Hello everyone! =D

I just posted this story the other day in the site where I stash all my Italian fanfics and I thought "well, this is pretty short, so why not translate it?" so here I am ^^ It's very rare for me to translate my stuff 'cause I prefer writing it directly in one language and leave it at that - I'm almost never satisfied of how it turns out - but once in a while I do it anyway :P

Oh, this was originally a drabble I wrote for the '50 Ways of Being Together' collection, but I expanded it adding a little more detail ^^;

Disclaimer: I own nothing but what wrote.

Ja ne,

Temari 88

Green-Eyed Wonder

He sighs, satisfied and content.

He raises his left hand to clean it, his tongue caressing slowly the tanned skin as it sweeps up the crimson red staining his fingers, his wrist and his forearm—such a sweet, warm and delicious taste... if he stops to think about it, he can almost convince himself he can still feel the flow of life coursing through the liquid sliding down his throat, he can almost hear the pulsing of that heart going fainter and fainter and the mere idea excites him - the twisted desire to bleed that male dry while he violates him fiercely and hearing that broken voice moan and beg him...

His ruby eyes haze over, his mind intoxicated by the adrenaline the murder has flooded him with and his basest instincts threatening to take over again.

Lowering his eyes again to stare at his victim, he thinks the guy would have enjoyed, even, that rough treatment considering the way he had looked at him - his lips stretched to form a little smile, as if his attacker resembled someone he cared a lot about - without ever shifting those green eyes... not even as he sliced him open and had his way with his body, those irises of a peculiar sea-green had continued to gaze at him.

And the way the blood had splattered over that pearly white skin... oh, it had been perfect, beautiful and he couldn't help but stroke that face tenderly, careful to leave it unscathed because it was so—he can't find a word to describe it.

He tilts his head upward, resting his scarlet eyes on the pitch black sky where no clouds were scattered over that never ending canvas that no one could paint, the moon was also hiding from view. In that peaceful moment, he sighs once more, trying to understand the reason why now - now that everything has ended - he feels that sensation of unrest in the pit of his stomach concerning what he just did, in disregard of his previous thoughts.

He doesn't regret having killed that teenager, of that he is certain.

Maybe though... he feels remorse at having done it so quickly...