His fingertips slowly caressed the length of her throat, pausing briefly where it joined her shoulder. He found the place first with touch, and then with taste, as his lips followed the trail of his hand. Firmly, his other arm held her about the waist, pressing the smooth curve of her back against his belly. She smelled like cherry blossoms.
“Lover...” It was a soft breath, a plea to let her sleep, and not yet have to face the cruelty of the waking world. He took the lobe of her ear gently between his lips, licking the supple skin, and she gave a squeal of surprise, ending in a moan of pleasure as she turned into his embrace.
The top of her head tucked perfectly under his chin, bathing him in her scent. He loved the smell of her. He couldn’t resist the temptation of running his light touch across her bare stomach, soft and warm. She giggled, squirming with a lingering ticklishness of girlhood, which he prayed she’d never outgrow. Across the hidden flesh, he felt the faint scars left by a forgotten time, and found pride in them. She was so strong, his lover. The proof of it right there, etched permanently into her skin. His warrior who smelled of cherry blossoms.
He offered no protest as her laughter became soft kisses instead, across his shoulders and his neck. Less, when she wrapped a supple thigh across his hip, teasing him unmercifully at the nearness of her tempting warmth. There was no time for play, but his body listened to no such reason, and as she sought his mouth with the hungry longing of her own, he allowed his mind to play across the fantasy, just for a moment. How soft and inviting she was... A sin, not to welcome such a chance while he could.
“Beloved...” A hiss of desire in her ear, she was maddening to him, as acquiescing and lustful as any man could desire of his lover, as sweet to the taste as the headiest of wines. Her touch scalded him, burning with need, and he pressed her away only with some effort, until she would be forced to meet his eyes. “Though I would face the sun itself for the chance to remain at your side a little longer, I would not ask you to take such risks for me. The dawning comes my angel, and with it...”
“My husband’s return.” She said the words with a heaviness, and then she sighed, and laid her hand over his unbeating heart, as if to stir some semblance of life back into it. “And well I know the dangers of lingering also, not only at his hands, but those of your clan-mates as well. It can be no other way, I know this, and yet...”
Her voice dropped, becoming a whisper. “And yet how near salvation could lay for both of us, if either of us dared.” Her touch so fleetingly brushed his lips, and then she drew away, resigned, as he was.
How near salvation lay indeed, he thought in frustration, if he could ever bring himself to face this harsh unlife of his! Yet any gentler, her own? Any moment that she left his side, she became fair game for his fellow hunters, and any of these nights he waited for her, might be the night she no longer came.
Slowly, regretfully, she drew from his arms. He knew as she moved about the falling tomb, seeking her clothes. In the darkness, he even knew when she found them. His own lay at his side, and at last he too began to dress. Fingers, finding buttons without sight, straps tied, buckles fastened. “It will be a long day,” He mused wistfully, “Before your beautiful blue eyes rest upon me again.”
“Blue?” She found his hand, drawing it back to her lips, that he might feel as they curved in a smile. She didn’t need to do that, he could always tell when she was smiling. “My eyes are brown, beloved. Have you forgotten so soon?”
“The foolishness of men,” He agreed, drawing back only that he needed to find his sword, but giving an answering smile, “Forgetting such things of our women. Brown eyes then... Sweet, either way, when my lips are pressed against them. Sweet, and salty as well, when we part.”
He touched her shoulder, then guided his hand up her throat, and to her chin. From there, he found her eyes from memory. Delicately salty, yes, shedding silent tears she’d hoped would be lost on him.
“Brave beloved,” He whispered fondly, “Seek not to be so strong for me.” A soft sound, like a muffled sob, made her whole body tremble... But then matter-of-factly she became strong as steel, wiping her tears on his sleeve.
“Silly fool,” She muttered, the softness of her tone betraying her lack of rebuke, “I’m only strong for you, because it’s the best way I can be strong for myself.” Again he smiled, trying not to look sad with it, but brave. Being strong for her, too, was the best way he could be strong for himself.
He caught her hand as she would have turned to leave, and lifted it to her cheek, brushing her fingertips against his mouth. “Be strong then,” He agreed, “But not reckless. Two nights, one after another? I welcome your company... But my love, take care. Your husband is not a fool.”
A moment’s pause, an instant’s hesitation, where there had not been before. “No,” She agreed at length, a whisper, “He is not the fool here.” She offered no more, and he bit away the question on his tongue. If she could not come again, if she knew it, then spare them both the unfairness of a final goodbye.
She left him standing there in the dark, in a world that would always be dark. He could still feel the touch of her fingers on his lips. Still he stayed, longer than he should have, longer than was safe. He breathed in deeply.
The air in the tomb smelled of cherry blossoms.
(((((((())))))))
