I had never seen a woman shined before. A female convict wouldn’t have lived long enough to have it done. Her eyes lowered, trying to hide her fear from me. Clear silver pools, shining with their own inner light. Hidden. A slow blink. Soft lips parted slightly, in the shock of seeing in a completely different way. Considering that she was nearly blind before this, this moment must seem strange, just to see anything at all.
Breathe. My gods, I have to breathe, but it’s so hard. I never imagined. I had been blind for so long, “seeing” through scent or sound, and my own heightened awareness, for so long, that actually seeing…..I don’t know where to begin. Clamp my eyes shut, my hands over my eyes. His hands on my face. Pulling me close to him.
“Baby? What’s wrong……..”
“It’s too much, it’s just too much.”
Choke on a sob. Try to breathe. His hands pulling me even closer to him, stroking my hair, my back. Not pulling my hands away. Telling me to breathe, that it will be all right. Endearments and comforts. So foreign to him, instinct taking over. Feel myself grow still again. Not used to being so afraid.
Close my eyes tight. Still. Sit back a little, and let my hands run up over his chest, skate over his collarbones, his throat, his jaw. See him how I saw him before, the silk of his skin, the steel underneath. See him with my hands, to lessen the shock of seeing him with my eyes. Fully seeing him. Not the blur he was before. The collection of lines felt and barely glimpsed. The both of us breathless now. Waiting. Breathe. Open my eyes. Slowly this time. “Seeing” as a strange combination of heat and light vision. Everything in pinks and purples.
“You’re beautiful. I hadn’t realized how beautiful you were.”
He chuckles at that. I guess I can’t blame him. That endearment isn’t likely to do him any favours from anyone. I apologize, laughing. It’s hard to shut off the instinct to live by feel, and now that I can see what I’m doing, I just want to touch him even more.
“You couldn’t see me at all before?..”
“No. Not really. More sensed than seen. This is a little overwhelming.”
I can feel the wave of another panic attack. He feels my trembling and holds my hands before I can let go of him.
“Lay back, baby.”
My mirrored eyes lock with his, I grow calm, in their depths. Fear vanishes, only it’s scent left to fade in the air. My small hands dwarfed in his. Leaning back into the pillow he’s put down for me. The awkward adjustment of legs, eased by the fact that neither of us seems to notice much.
He lets go of my hands, and, now free, I’m free to “see” him in the way I like best, running them down over his shoulders, the bulge in the sides of his arms. Fingertips tickling the back of the tricep, making every muscle stand out even more. Braced on his elbow over me, the weight of his chest gliding gracefully over mine. Weight settled comfortably between my thighs. Lay back for a moment, delight in the weight of him, the presence. His eyes haven’t left mine the entire time. As lost in mine, as I am in his.
“You’re beautiful, Anise.”
His knuckles stroke the skin of my temples, fingernails over an ear, before his hands are lost in my hair. Neither of us fully closes our eyes for the kiss. Lazy half lidded, even now not able to stop looking. The fascination is mutual. Never realized just how well he hid his vulnerability, until I could see the heat rise in him. His face calm, but nowhere near cool. A line of heat behind his ears, under his jaw. Lean under and kiss him there, a line of nips and kisses down his throat.
A strange rediscovery. Necking on the couch, like teenagers. Something telling me that that’s a pastime neither one of us had the pleasure of indulging in. Make more room for him between my thighs, the pressure deeper, full of heat, and need. Slide my hands back over arms, shoulders. Stroke over powerful neck muscles, the grit of stubble against my fingertips, caress the back of his head, as his kiss deepens. His hips pressing deeper into mine. Our movements small, but a clear display of what we both want.
I could look at her forever. I’ve always known the effect my eyes had on others. It’s another thing to look at Anise, and see her that way. Any regret that I had about it is gone. Her eyes closed, a slow blink. I could watch her over and over, the fan of dark lashes, that pool of cold fire underneath.
Help her take her shirt off, brushing the hair back off her face. Her hair seeming darker against the moonlight of her eyes. She’s pushing her own pants down over her hips, then helping me with mine. Still, all I can do is kiss her, never closing my eyes. She hasn’t closed hers either.
Our naked bodies press together. It doesn’t come close to the heat in our eyes. This is a different kind of want. Not that we don’t press into each other, it’s just not what’s driving us. She catches my hand, as it’s sliding over her breast. A grin curls at the corner of her lip, exposing a sharpened canine. Her hands tangle in mine. Normally, I’d figure the woman was just being a tease. Probably get pissed off about it. I don’t get the chance. She’s not teasing me, just doesn’t want to distract. Our bodies don’t need our help in finding each other.
Her hips arch, slightly. She’s soaking wet already. A slow glide, a moan, we slip together. Our eyes don’t leave each other. She wasn’t teasing, just wanted this more. Harder not to close my eyes, sinking into the delicious heat of her. Her hands stroke under my jaw, and I’m lost again, falling into her.
Our bodies take over, my hips rising in time with his. Our pace slow, and sensual. Deep and passionate. Like our kisses. There is no rush, not even at the end. Our breath quickens. My hands rest over his heart, and along the line of his jaw. He nuzzles me, when my eyes start to close, lost in ecstasy. Watch the flush deepen, along the underside of his throat, behind his ear. With my new sight, a line of fire, as though I needed any proof that what he felt was real.
Presses down on my chest, when my back starts to arch. Maybe because he doesn’t want me to be hurt. Maybe he just likes the stillness. This is more about being than about doing. Deep inside me, barely moving, our bodies thrusting together, but barely withdrawing. Slow, so slow. His hand in my hair, his heart racing. Both soaring on the rising wave of our orgasm. Everything in me wants to throw my head back, letting it wash over me. But this is something more.
His voice, raw, and deep, almost inaudible, despite his closeness. His eyes locked with mine. As both of us let go.
The rest is lost, as he buries his face in my neck.
© 27 Jan 2006, 17:01