It’s strange to sit here, completely naked, with him. Maybe that’s not so strange. Maybe feeling so comfortable about it is strange, given the very short amount of time we’ve actually been together. I’m not accustomed to gentleness, and would never have expected gentleness from him. Yet he’s gone out of his way to not hurt me.
Poured me coffee, helped me onto a stool by the counter. Looking me right in the eye when I winced sitting down, to make sure I wasn’t hurt. I’m not. Just that wonderful ache that leaves you light headed and silly. I believe the word I used earlier was “senseless”. A rummage through the cupboards. He’s found me cookies. As though I could get any more content than I am now. He has some sort of sandwich. Make more coffee.
Pull his own stool up right next to mine. I sit, my back nestled into his chest, nibbling cookies. His hand slowly stroking my belly. Nothing sexual about it. Rest my head back into his hard shoulder. Both of us fed and happy. Pull my knees up to my chest, lean back, trusting him not to let me fall. Both of his arms around me now, his hand still stroking my belly. His lips just against the side of my neck. If a man could be said to purr, he’d be purring.
I want to soak up the incredible comfort in this man, the safeness. I would have been happy to die yesterday. Now. Now, I want something else entirely. I’ve never spent an awful lot of time pissing and moaning about what’s fair and what isn’t. That might work well for people who have seen fair in the first place. I just have these cards. It’s the hand I was dealt. I don’t much like it, I mean, I’m not stupid. But there are times.
“Did you ever want something, want it so badly, you could feel it like an ache in your heart. Not want it the way some people want a new car or some little thing, but want it deep. Not even to have it, even. Just to touch it once. To put everything else in it’s light, for just that moment.”
I hate myself, as I start to cry. It’s not something I can stop. Try to pull away. He won’t let me, pulling me tighter to him, his arms holding me tighter.
“Sorry. It must be a last day sort of thing.”
He turns my face to his. I expected anger, disgust, impatience. Maybe I’ve just had the wrong sorts of experiences.
She cries without making a sound. Used to having no one hear her, and not wanting to be heard. I know exactly what’s she’s talking about. I’d never admit it out loud. But I know what it is to want something else, something more. I live every minute, waiting for just that moment, when I can have completely what I want. We both know we’re never going to see that. Kiss her tears, she’s already stopped crying, over almost as soon as it began. Last day sort of thing.
A deep, ragged sigh from her. She’s already calm again. She’s a person that will never resign, or accept defeat. But I believe she understands acceptance quite well. She’s accepted this. This one last day.
“Just the hands you’re dealt.”
“Hehehee…..I was just thinking that……I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry.”
A woman doesn’t need to apologize for crying. Can’t get my hands on the people that should have to apologize for it.
“Come back to bed.”
Help her up, we walk back. I set the alarm for three hours, pull her to me, her head on my chest. Stroke her hair until she falls asleep. She sleeps easier this time. Of course, she did have a fair bit of help with that. I could probably get up and do something on the ship. Truth is, I don’t really want to move. I’m thinking about what she said, about that one perfect moment, and putting everything else in it’s light, just once.
Run my fingers through her sex-tousled hair, her hand on my chest. Stroke her back with my other hand, avoiding the scars up top, where her implants are. Make her MY perfect moment. The weight of her against me, small and soft, nuzzled into my chest, perfectly satisfied and content. The scent of sex, and her, heavy in the room, on me.
Earlier, I was willing to take what was right in front of me. She wanted fucked. I’m not about to turn that down. Hell, I wanted it too. Now I want something more. Would have purposely not thought about it if she hadn’t said that one thing that’s lived quietly in my heart for a long damned time. Just came out and said it, like she had looked right inside my soul. She didn’t need to. It just happened to be the same thing she had in hers.
Earlier, just fucking her would have been enough. I would have taken what I could have gotten out of it and moved on when it was over. Now I want more. I want HER. I never really realized the pain of it being her LAST day, until right now. Because it means it might be MY last day with her too. I watch her sleep. Reaching out to shut off the alarm seconds before it goes off, so it doesn’t startle her. Kiss her awake.
© 27 Jan 2006, 16:33