[Summer 2014] Panjia

Xenon · 2014-07-31T03:52:36+00:00

Panjia Forewarning: This is explicit erotic literature. Every evening when I come home from working in my family’s shop, I stare out the window of my shed, fill my pen with ink, and I begin a letter. The letters are always addressed to him, and they usually begin in the same way, though the body is usually in regards to how I’ve been fairing day-by-day. They typically end in the same way as well, although sometimes I never finish them at all. The table in front of the window is always covered with them, and I would send them off to him if I knew where he was, or someone who could give them to him, but I never know. Occasionally I am left with a reminder of his existence, a piece of evidence, or a trinket. He leaves them for me when he comes by, when I am gone, when I am asleep, although rarely when I can finally see him. He comes to make sure I’m still here and safe, and leaves me these things to let me know he is as well, I’m sure of it. I leave them on my side of the sill to show him I know that he visited me, that I received his gift and await the next. I have been waiting a long time for him, and I know he waits until the next time he can give me something new, but I would like him to give me the best thing he can, the thing I wish for the most. And that is plain and simply him. Three months ago, there came a knock on my door, right as the suns were preparing to descend the horizon; I was finishing my letter before all the light had disappeared for the day. I didn’t know how to answer it. It was usually my mother, father, or one of my siblings, but my heart slows in that instant where I hope to open it to him, to whom I wish to see above anyone else. I sighed from my daydream—the gentle knock awaking me from my hazy thoughts—and I arose to answer, unable to gather the excitement that used to pour forth from me in hopes that it would finally be him. Surely it was my mother to bring me some leftover meal, or my neighbor to ask for some ingredient. I would almost lose out on hope, and that’s when he never failed to reappear. Just as I brushed my hair to the side of my face and opened the door, I caught a dark glimpse of his silhouette from the intense setting suns. The glorious orange rays poured around his body and nearly blinded me for being unable to look away. He took one step forward and the shadow of his head shielded the sun from my eyes. My knees grew weak. As I hoped everyday for him to come, I was never fully prepared when he did. I was reminded of the existence of gravity and stumbled, only for him to straighten me, placing both hands on my arms and holding me up. He opened his mouth slowly, staring straight into my eyes. “Roze…” was his only word. I hear people call me it every day, tens or hundreds of times, but when I hear him say it, I lose all ability to compose myself. I fell into his front and buried my head into his chest, unsure if one of my daydreams had become too severe, or if I had simply fallen asleep and this was some cruel illusion. My hands rose up and clutched his jacket, covered in silt and sand from the storms. I looked up to him with widened eyes, beginning to water, unable to hold back as my mouth opened and lagged as I tried to squeak out a word, any sound at all. I could not get anything out, not for lack of trying, as his eyes closed and covered my lips with his own. In that instant, my consciousness was left blank as he surrounded me in his protection. My lips grew incredibly hot and my body felt as if it would begin to melt. I grew lightheaded and staggered back, but he held onto me, clutched me, unable nor willing to let me go. He pushed the door closed and led us further back in my shed, towards the bed made of layers of sheets. He let me down on my back and began to crouch towards me. His long hair shielded his rough facial features and almost draped over me. He parted our kiss and we caught our breath, gasping inward. I opened my mouth only slightly more, just to utter in return, “Xan…” and he enclosed my lips a second fierce time. My body was pressed into the mattress of cloth under me, and he made me his in that instant, groping my bosom over my dress, kissing me, my jaw, my neck, sliding the thin fabric of my dress downward and leaving a trail of kisses as he did so. I tangled my fingers into his hair on the back of his head, pressing him to me, bringing him closer, wanting him to feel his body against mine. These were the moments I dreamed of, and if it really were a dream, I did not care, for the bliss it brought me made it a worthy one. My breaths were short, and an ache panged from my chest and heart, suffocating me. I was so nervous, and timid, and scared too; not from him, but knowing the inevitability that this wouldn’t last forever. Knowing that he wouldn’t and couldn’t stay here to continue and embrace me like this every day. So, I held him closely and cherished the here and now. If he would leave before tomorrow, I would deal with it when it did happen, but now he was mine and I was his. He made that absolutely clear to me in all his movements. I could barely control my emotions, as sobs sounded out from my chokes, my throat became blocked and tears streamed down the sides of my face. His oral assault on my chest halted and he brought his head up to mine, looking into my soul with his piercing scarlet irises. My gaze changed back and forth between those eyes and the slitted pools of black. My heart was overflowing; I barely knew what to do, as if I would cough out my essence before him. Then, he laid his head to the side of mine and wrapped his arms around me, doing nothing else. He held me so close I heard his every breath slow to a steady pace, and it calmed me in return. I caressed the back of his head, his long black hair matted in places, straight in others. We became tranquil, and he raised his head up to peer towards me again. My face had relaxed in his hold and I breathed in slowly, though my hands sunk down and tugged his large dark coat open. He laid a hand on mine and placed a gentle kiss upon my forehead, slipping his arms out and letting the large garment collapse on the floor, followed by his belt and the weapons attached. One pair of matching black tunic and trousers were all that remained before he slipped his feet out of the buffeted boots he wore. He looked towards me and gave me a genuine smile wanting me to join him in undressing. After realizing this, my cheeks flushed red, but I complied willingly, pulling my entire white dress over my head after leaning up with him and laying it with his coat. My white undergarments were still attached to my body, he eyed them, his mind set on their removal, and I read that in his mind. I, too, wanted him to remove his as well. I wanted us to bond naked together as one, desperately. I began to fidget with the strings to my corset, but he brought his hands to my arms, bringing them back between us, entwining our fingers and leaned in to kiss me yet again. He was much more gentle and affectionate this time, at peace with the lust that had built up after our most recent separation. He led his hands to my back and undid the knot, pulling me free and letting it drop aside the rest of our articles of clothing. My celeste skin and breasts were free for him to see, and it was embarrassing, but he took my hand and led it to the hem of his shirt, which I grabbed with his guidance and lifted it off him. His hair caught and then poured over his celadon skin when liberated. We were on our knees on the bed, facing towards each other, our expressions warm and inviting. I felt myself overcome with desire to join together and leaned towards him, wrapping my arms around him, my head against his bare chest. He brought his arms around my body in turn, as I began to hear his heartbeat and yearned more for him. I sat lower between my feet and pulled his trousers down, revealing his aching length. I felt such a want for it and my libido rose as he kicked them off. I wrapped my fingers around it and slowly brought them back and forth, leaning my face in and kissing his stomach lightly. My kisses trailed downwards and I held him up, giving a kiss and then a tiny lick directly on his lower head. I looked up to him to meet his gaze. A warm smile crept to his lips as I felt his hand place itself on the back of my head and caress my hair with his thumb. My cheeks began to blush pink and I glanced downward again, returning my attention to pleasing him. I lowered my head and flicked out my tongue, then daintily licked a trail up the underside of his shaft. I gave it one more kiss at the top before taking him into my mouth slowly, trying desperately not to hurt him with my teeth, and hoping he would be pleased because of it. This was my opportunity to show him my devotion, how long I was waiting for him, how much I wanted him. I brought more of him in before I began to suck on him, curling my tongue on the underside and inching back and forth. My fingers still around the rest of him swayed as I did, while my other hand slid up the side of his legs to his hip. I lathered him up in my saliva and leaned my head forwards, taking in as much of him as I could while sucking tightly. I heard him groan out, and that affirmation made my efforts worthwhile. I swirled my tongue around the head and let it slide up and down. The hand I had on his hips slipped down the front of his upper thigh until I brought it to his groin and cupped his scrotum delicately. My hand caressed and massaged it while I still had him in my mouth. I moaned out, having felt so aroused at being with him, giving him as much pleasure as I was able. His breaths were deep and rough, moaning my name a few times. It was a delight, until he pulled himself out of my mouth. A thin string of dribble connected my lips to where they had just been until it broke when he lowered himself. I looked towards him with bated breath as he sat with me, my eyes half open and my mind spinning, whether for lack of oxygen or overflowing arousal. He leaned in close to me and pressed his mouth against my already parted lips, sliding his tongue along my lip and then passed my teeth. I felt it touch mine so softly, prodding for a reaction, and I gave in completely. I lifted my wet tongue against his, colliding against each other in a slick dance. It made me feel so weak, even in this sitting position. I felt helpless, and yet so safe in his care. He laid me back onto the mattress and left my head against the pillow, breaking our kiss for both of us to breathe heavily yet again. His lips returned to my neck and left small, loving kisses. I crumbled to pieces from his focused attention, yet he did not slow. I felt his hands grab each of my breasts and knead them, tenderly then stronger. My legs shivered and fidgeted as I felt him kiss my bosom, then his hot breath over my nipple before the warm sensation that followed as he took the perked nub into his mouth. His tongue waved over it side-to-side and in circles, pleasuring me as I did him. His hands crept to my white-colored tights and pulled them down my waist from both sides. They were removed slowly, bunching down my legs before finally slipping off my feet. In the end, they joined the rest of our clothes on the floor. The world had descended into night and I had felt the culmination of both our emotions evaporate from our bodies like a mist and meld together in the hot air. He thereafter closed the distance between us and the auras of heat, passion, and sentiment emitting from our bodies empowered each other, forming a sheath we hid within. Leading with an impassioned kiss, he positioned his manhood and I felt the tip prod against me. His eyes remained with mine, and he hesitated only long enough for me to nod affirmatively and longingly as I placed my hands upon his shoulder and back, bringing him as close to me as I possibly could. Then, I felt him plunge into me as he tucked his head next to mine, nibbling my lobe and rolling his hips forward. The initial tightness at my center relaxed to accommodate him and I finally felt a wholesome sensation that I was cursed to be without for what seemed an eternity. The air within me rushed out of my chest as he pierced me wholesomely, causing me to gasp from the intensity. Feeling him enter and fill me, I truly felt connected to him in the most primal, yet compassionate way. The sensations were prolonged as he began to rock his hips out and inward, in a piston-like movement. My hips raised and my back arched into his presses from the pleasure, easing his motion. I could not help but let my moans out, quiet at first, then elongating and becoming more lewd. He whispered my name into my ear and kissed my neck and jaw, showering me with affection. I barely had the breath within me to reply his name, though I tried, and with each time I became more emotional than before. His hips picked up their pace and he began to thump into me with more vigor. I could hear his breath grow gruff beside me and his heightened sense of pleasure became erotic to me as I brought a hand to the back of his head, keeping him close and pressed to me. He leaned his head up and looked towards me as if possessed, allowing his love for me to carry him onward. And I accepted him wholly, as if nothing in this world would tear us from this spot in time. We went on and on in that euphoric haven, the constraints of our lives bearing no importance to us. There was simply him and I, the two of us in a sanctuary of bliss, with nothing else but each other to cherish. I was losing myself in the moment, him above me, and also inside me. I bit my bottom lip gently, just to anchor my bite while he thrust inside me continuously. He became relentless in giving me his entire being, and I began to feel something deep within me start to simmer. The forceful pounding he had progressed to was luring it out from within me, in addition to the toxic stupor I had fallen into. His breaths became more brisk as his rhythm picked up, his mouth agape in front of my own; our faces mirrored each other in ecstasy as if inebriated by some potion. His lips brushed against mine after one thrust, and after the next he connected them together, our dimly open eyes closed in synchronization with each others. My legs that lined his sides elongated and wrapped around his hips and tail until my feet twisted together, locking him with me. Our lips divided and I yowled out in a broken manner, the feelings of pleasure washing over me. Together, our eyes opened and met. He laid his fingers against my cheek and whispered that he was nearing his limit. I replied with a smile, a nod, and tightened my legs around him. He smiled back truly and grasped my cheek as he connected our lips once more, bearing his hips down to me stronger. I felt the simmering within my body begin to boil and wailed as our kiss broke. My euphoria was at a plateau and I felt my muscles clench around him in every way. He tucked his head to the side of mine and I felt him push once more into me with such force driving the impact. He pulsed and spasmed within me, his hips shaking as he buried himself as deep into my core as possible, then groaned and filled me with his love. Our orgasms lasted and we floated through existence as one, as if together we ascended to purity, until our inevitable return to the world. We panted and gasped until our breaths regained balance. Then, he slid off me to the side and faced towards me, his eyes opening slowly. My legs were numb and settled, though I tilted my head towards him, meeting his gaze. Our bodies began to calm and settle until the point where I felt comfortable enough to turn towards him on my side. I etched his features into my memory as I felt his hand tenderly being placed on my hip, gliding up and down the curves of my waist and arm. I heard him confess to me in barely above a whisper. “Roze…Roze…I love you…I love you eternally.” I could barely manage a response as a feeling of fatigue swept over me as I felt reality fade and drifted away from consciousness. The sounds of morning and the warmth of sunlight woke me. At first I was calm and at peace, but I felt the gravity of the situation increase as I turned my head to where he had been before I fell asleep and saw an absence that ached my heart. I leaned up and glimpsed around the room, looking for any indication as to his presence, but found none, his clothes that I removed myself had vanished as if everything I experienced had been a mirage, although mine were still scattered. My stomach churned as reality washed over me and my sadness began to flow. My eyes watered as I brought my legs into my chest and wrapped my arms around them, sobbing into my knees as I tucked in my face. The tears streamed down my cheeks and I made no effort to wipe them, feeling no motivation to go on at all. I sniffled and glanced upward, feeling empty and lonely, struggling to find the strength to lift my head and clothe myself. I felt drained and sore; the toll of last night was taken from my body, serving as a bittersweet reminder. I sighed quietly, my breath leaving me, and then halted entirely as I peered towards the table in front of the window. Every letter that I had wrote, every page both finished and not, crumpled and folded, each sheet was gone and taken away. I felt the tears return and my shins buckle. There was something placed at the center of the table and I barely managed to stumble my way towards the chair, sitting upon it in an awkward manner until I could slide my legs under. I lifted it into my hands. It fit in my palm and was in the shape of a heart. It glimmered even though it looked to be made of sediment, but I knew what it was. It was petri-sand, a material both rare and coveted, and an elegant “R” had been chiseled onto the center. This was his latest of treasures he left for me. My emotions were collecting as I felt the smooth stone thoroughly. It managed to calm me in time, and after, I placed it upon the sill alongside the others, where it would remind me to have hope and grant me the strength to continue. I’d look upon it and the rest of them every day as I’d begin another letter. It wasn’t too long before the table became scattered with them again as life went on. That was three months ago. I spend these days just the same, though the seasons are starting to turn yet again. I return from the shop and glance on the windowsill as a force of habit, though the feelings of happiness that erupt within me when I see each item fills me with perseverance. Today I begin another letter to him, I write about the people our shop helps, and how my family is doing. I tell him that I am well, even though I miss him very much. I tell him that I love him, to be careful, and that he means the world to me. I write softly and elegantly as I pen out my appreciation for him and everything he brings me, though I assure him that I want him the most. My tail whips gracefully with excitement as I think of how to word the next sentence. Lastly, I write how I hope the day he returns again will not be far away, and that I hope it will be in time to see my gift for him develop healthily. I sign it lovingly and set the pen aside. Although I still cannot address these letters, I am content with the comfort they provide me now, and that I know he would love to read them all thoroughly, taking them with him and giving him the same hope that his gifts bring me. My hand slips down the table and lies against my stomach that has begun to swell, stroking it smoothly. The corners of my lips tilt into an intense smile and I sigh deeply. I look out the window as I rest my cheek on my hand, my arm supported by the table. The memories of our last night together race through my mind and especially the words I left him with: “I love you too…and I will always be here for you.” I always will, until the time he comes back to stay or takes me away with him. One day soon, I hope. My daydream is cut short as a knock happens upon my door. The knock is a familiar one. My mind settles as I begin to realize who it is, and my unavoidable smile grows bright. This is the life I have chosen, and although our world isn’t perfect, I question how it couldn’t be as I rise to my legs to answer him. I open the door slowly and see him come into view. His warm features reflect my own, our gentle complexions meet each others with love and he steps forward in due time, bending to give me a romantic kiss. With an ever-growing fondness in my heart, “welcome home,” I tell him genuinely. A/N: It's very interesting considering we almost never get lemons anymore since our one-shot hero Joe-kun packed up and left. I think the only actual full-blown lemon submission to an event we've had was one by GroverCleaveland for our 2010 winter competition and the winner of the summer competition in 2012. Needless to say, those were quite a while ago. I've self-proclaimed myself as a lover of erotic fiction, but it occurred to me that I hadn't written or submitted one before. So, I set out to do just that in a scene with tastes I prefer, though it may grow into something deeper that I may add onto in the future to give a proper story. Who knows? I made it subtle at first, but for those confused, I made it increasingly evident that this takes place on a world that is certainly not Earth. I would say think of a speculative-fiction story in the style of James Cameron's Avatar, but even that is a little too exotic from what I intended. It is not Earth, but similar in many ways. Don't imagine the people as fully deformed aliens, but as very similar humanoids despite small exotic changes that a different solar system would yield a human-like species. What I'm saying is that I don't intend this to be some furry-mania Sonic fanfiction, though I honestly couldn't care less if people write that. To each their own. Everything has been thoroughly proofread, so if you catch something I didn't, I will give you an e-cookie. 3,999 words including title. Thank you for reading.

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high_time

10 years ago

i think my main problem lies in my mindset of reading, that when I read, I'm actually reading something alien, something outside my own experience that I am unable to relate to. that's why I mostly skipped them because I thought of them as some story about a complete stranger that I do not know in the slightest.

i may get that from the bitter experiences I had in the past, that has to do with reading and writing. it's not something i find all that comfortable to discuss in detail though.

I realized I can just imagine the story as I want to be, that the characters and the universe was something i am familiar with. that way, I can just ignore the introduction thing about the universes and continue reading.

i guess i do not mind detailed descriptions at all, when I'm actually in the right mind to read. what kinda breaks the flow is unknown vocabularies, but that's okay if it's mostly just one or two or a bunch. I can extend my word cap along the way too. for the most part, I do not really imagine the details, picturing them in my mind, I just read it and just go along with the brief imagery it generates.

reading it once again, I take this as a melancholy of a certain character who awaits for long for someone who was her everything. the scenes were passionate, though the depths of her sadness portrayed may suggest some way that she thought her lover was already dead and won't come back again.

I can't help but think that the dude was somehow a douche though. why did he left for months (somehow without proper explanation) and left the girl crying in sadness? I couldn't really get the way the guy just disappeared after sex without saying anything. it seems awfully suspicious that he might up to no good in the midway. maybe even doing an affair that would hurt the heroine to bits if it were found out.

yet, written by the point of view of the heroine's innocence and naivety, the readers will know that everything is alright. everything is beautiful like written straight from a fairy tale. to let your prejudices aside and just appreciate the beauty as it is.

I guess that what's make it well done, able to give some hints of bitter reality while mostly focusing on the passionate details. the scenes kinda reminisce me of some kind of eroge I played way back, it has the thing of love making that's more of pure love thingy through sex rather than something lewd. in the end, I can honestly say that this is well done, from the efforts and such.

i guess it's been a while since I've written a review this long, eh?

===

well I'm somehow flattered by your opinion of The Scenery of Tranquil places, though the most of joy I had comes when you said it had helped you with your writing and such. I guess I am happy when the things I put on my efforts could help people, much more than if it gets a lot of appreciation and praise.

Xenon FAKKU Writer

10 years ago

high_time wrote...

I can understand this, which is why I left all the background out, asides from the fact that I had none at the moments of writing. If it's something alien to you, then that might be good because these two and the world they live in is certainly alien. Haha, no worries though. There's no explanation from you needed about your experiences. These two are in fact complete strangers that we don't know at all beyond this one scene and situation described from her perspective. They are strangers, but at least there's much less to focus on and think about in that regard. I think the beauty in creative fiction is the discovery of worlds and characters who we don't know, but get to meet along the way and grow close to.

high_time wrote...

reading it once again, I take this as a melancholy of a certain character who awaits for long for someone who was her everything. the scenes were passionate, though the depths of her sadness portrayed may suggest some way that she thought her lover was already dead and won't come back again.

I can't help but think that the dude was somehow a douche though. why did he left for months (somehow without proper explanation) and left the girl crying in sadness? I couldn't really get the way the guy just disappeared after sex without saying anything. it seems awfully suspicious that he might up to no good in the midway. maybe even doing an affair that would hurt the heroine to bits if it were found out.

yet, written by the point of view of the heroine's innocence and naivety, the readers will know that everything is alright. everything is beautiful like written straight from a fairy tale. to let your prejudices aside and just appreciate the beauty as it is.

I think those sorts of feelings and suspicions are and should be valid. I've given no reason in the text and she doesn't wonder either, because she knows and has made peace with the reasons why he leaves, but doesn't know where he is, how to reach him, or if, as you said, he even is alive. This makes her that more cognizant of the time when he is with her and appreciate it exponentially more.

Thank you for speaking for mind about your perspective on the situation, though. It's good to hear to help me gain understanding of the thoughts I am leaving with my writing.

high_time wrote...

I guess that what's make it well done, able to give some hints of bitter reality while mostly focusing on the passionate details. the scenes kinda reminisce me of some kind of eroge I played way back, it has the thing of love making that's more of pure love thingy through sex rather than something lewd. in the end, I can honestly say that this is well done, from the efforts and such.

For me, that was Katawa Shoujo.

high_time wrote...

i guess it's been a while since I've written a review this long, eh?

I don't mind at all. I appreciate every sentence. Thank you.

high_time wrote...

well I'm somehow flattered by your opinion of The Scenery of Tranquil places, though the most of joy I had comes when you said it had helped you with your writing and such. I guess I am happy when the things I put on my efforts could help people, much more than if it gets a lot of appreciation and praise.

I think that's the greatest benefit as a writer is aiding and inspiring others with our products. Most assuringly, that was the case and why I speak so highly of it.

Thank you for taking the time to read it more thoroughly. Your time and words are appreciated.

Shikinokami

10 years ago

Read it but skimmed through the sex scenes. Felt too soft to be a lemon, like crazr wrote.

ZubaruMidori wrote...

I enjoyed it, since it was pretty good IMO(though I don't have much to compare it to).

Gender-swapped Saya no Uta, and even that is barely comparable except that one doesn't know at first who's not human.

Whilst my kokoro did not go doki doki (it hasn't for long time), oddly enough, I wished to know more of the place they lived in, the reasons they were separate, the town and the people, rather than just the sex. If you could maybe make a sequel or write another story of the same world,-. Regardless, it was very well done.

Xenon FAKKU Writer

10 years ago

Shikinokami wrote...

Read it but skimmed through the sex scenes. Felt too soft to be a lemon, like crazr wrote.

ZubaruMidori wrote...

I enjoyed it, since it was pretty good IMO(though I don't have much to compare it to).

Thank you, though sad to hear you didn't go doki doki. You must have nerves of steel. I would like to know what in a story would emotionally break even you down.

Saya no Uta, huh? I think my Halloween entry resembled that a bit more.

Shikinokami

10 years ago

Xenon wrote...

Thank you, though sad to hear you didn't go doki doki. You must have nerves of steel. I would like to know what in a story would emotionally break even you down.

Spoiler:

A man who is being identified only as Marcel H. died last year at home in Brussels, Belgium. He was 79 and thought to have died of an asthma attack.
His wife, ten years younger, was so distraught at her loss that she couldn’t bear to part with him. Upon finding him dead in bed, she didn’t call a doctor, the police or anyone for that matter—she just let him be.
That night, she climbed in bed and slept beside him, unable to let him go. One night turned into a few, and next thing you know we’ve got an entire Year at Bernie’s situation going on, here.
The couple’s neighbors never suspected a thing as the man mummified—they must have led very quiet social lives—but eventually the woman was found out when their landlord notified authorities that he hadn’t received rent in a year.
Daily Mail quotes Philippe Boxho, pathologist at the Forensic Center of Liege as saying, “This is not the first time I have made a discovery of this kind, I’ve been faced with two or three other occasions where people have continued to sleep with the corpse of their partner.”
Still, a year seems like a mighty long time. Things go really, really wrong after a year.

http://www.deathandtaxesmag.com/210003/woman-sleeps-next-to-her-husbands-corpse-for-a-year-nsfw/

Maybe that. It might make a heartwarming story.

that or abuse to tramps, I can't stand the lil shits who hurt the homeless.

Xenon FAKKU Writer

10 years ago

Shikinokami wrote...

Maybe that. It might make a heartwarming story.

that or abuse to tramps, I can't stand the lil shits who hurt the homeless.

Cute...

I wish I had a girlfriend who wanted me so badly that she'd sleep with my corpse for a year.

Actually, I would like if she were a bit more realistic and practical about my passing. I think that'd be better for everyone and society.

I have a soft spot for homeless empathy. This video about a man and how he goes day-by-day homeless is pretty moving:

Spoiler:

Also, if you like social psychology, this episode of What Would You Do? is pretty interesting:

Spoiler:

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