The Wonderful World of Smexiness (BoyxBoy)

Red Satin Hoods and Wolf-like Paintings (PG)

//Un-Edited//

I was reading Little Red Riding Hood, nuff said...

[One-shot]

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For all he knew, it could've been hours since he'd been walking.

He had past the same tree four times, tripped over the same log three times, and had scolded himself many times for wondering so far into the woods at such an ungodly hour; the sun having already retired behind the dark blankness of the night's sky.

He was lost.

The cold air bit at his skin; coating his delicate alabaster paleness with the brutal frost that had came with the crisp wind of November.

In a desperate attempt to warm him, even just a little, the boy tugged on the red satin coat that had nestled itself around his lithe body, the hood particularly large and comforting. It had worked to some degree, but his teeth still clattered and his breath still cut short in small gasps.

It really was cold.

Earlier that day his mother had chided him about covering up in case he were to go wondering again, and yet he listened no more intently than he did most other days, his curiosity about the woods behind his house far more overwhelming than the need to be warm. But of course, he above all else new nothing about the time it would take for him to truly feel satisfied with his exploration.

In fact, even though he were so profoundly lost, cold and confused, he still had this unsettling feeling churning inside his very being that still, as he crept past the eerie trees that swayed and sang in the winds around him, he was not satisfied.

There was something, something more than the deep abyss of the woods, that his mind desperately needed to seek out.

And yet, he didn't know what exactly it was.

It was this very feeling of un-satisfaction that made him stumble onwards. His skin may of been blue from the cold, his body numb and lips purple, but he did not want to give up. Part of him didn't want to give in to the cold and wait for the death he knew behold him in hopes of finding shelter, and the other half the same but in desperate hope of finding what he so unknowingly sought.

The moon had long since graced the Earth with it presence, the heavenly light that ran from the white crystal like ball lighting the way only slightly for the boy to see where his plimsol clad feet stepped.

In some sense, the boy felt as if he were the moon. He felt as if he were the only person who understood himself, and that he were the only person like him; that he was far more different to the rest of society, and although he had been a lonely boy ever since birth, he liked to be alone, holding up the curiosity of world by himself. It suited him fine, just as it suited the moon to be alone for eternity.

It was a strange concept, one which the boy could not explain as much as he'd of liked, but he was never really the philosophical one, and so he did not try to elaborate his thoughts to those that wouldn't understand him. One could truly never know or understand the remnants of another human's thoughts and desires, so who was he to try and speak his thoughts with the small category of words that the English language provided him?

It was as he, yet again becoming so lost in his thoughts that he forgot about the cold, that an opening in the forest led him to a place he had never thought existed. For all his time living on the outskirts of these trees, not once had he been led to believe that a house had sat in the middle of them.

And again, the boy forgot about the numbing cold for awhile to just stand and stare in awe at the house.

It was huge. A soft blue colour sat atop the house in the form of rusted tiles, the dark brown shade of the wooden walls neatly sitting together. A porch stood at the front of the house, welcoming the boy into the picturesque feel of it all. It reminded him of a doll house, the windows all lined in soft blue curtains, open for curious eyes to look inside. But it was dark, something that prevented wondering eyes from looking inside it's mysterious contents.