Archiving: QJEB, templevoices.com (when I get the damn thing up - I'm working, Libby, I'm working...), Daphne and Velma's place.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: All characters in the SW universe are the intellectual property of George Lucas, and no copyright infringement is intended. No profits are being made from this.
Feedback: If you care to. celtae@email.com
Comments: Sequel, of sorts, to "Possession". Very vocal thanks are due to Hypatia, Libby, Lynx,Erryn, Deb, Clay, Daibh, Elizabeth Durack, Verthandi, Miriam...all the people who gave me the courage to write again, and to re-visit the works of my past.
Reality returns slowly, the sated sleep I've been under not willing, quite yet, to relinquish its hold on me. The fire has burned down to a steady glow, casting a red light over me - and the man who lies next to me.
Slowly, brushing one tangled lock of hair out of my eyes, I raise myself on one elbow and just - look at him, sprawled in blissful contentment on the floor. One arm was stretched out, pillowing my head, the other curled negligently across his abdomen. His face is turned to mine, and I can see the light play across each feature...features that have become more beloved to me, more KNOWN to me than my own.
Allowing myself the unbelievable luxury, I stretch out a fingertip and begin to trace those features - the arch of an eyebrow, the bridge of the nose, the curve of the lips that are curved upwards, ever so slightly, in sleep. His expression holds none of the carefully schooled dignity it wears when awake. Here, asleep skin to skin with me, he is simply - a man.
A log collapses into the fireplace with a small shower of sparks, and in the brief flare I catch the silver glints in the brown of his hair. He is not young, this man, but age sits well on him, drawing him tighter to the bone, experience and calm radiating from the lines of his body. He must have been an impressive youth, I think...but oh, the man he has matured into, and it is not the physical aspects that make him so.
As if my thoughts have wormed their way into his - and perhaps they have - surprisingly long lashes lift from blue eyes, and a full smile curves the lips I traced just minutes ago.
"Awake so soon, love?" he asks, voice rough with sleep.
I smile back at him, moving willingly into his arms as he pulls me atop him. "Not so soon. We've slept for hours," I remark quietly, nuzzling his nose with mine.
"Mmm. Still dark. Are you uncomfortable here? Should we move?" I love the rumble of his voice in his chest, the way it vibrates through his body and into my own.
"No. I'm not uncomfortable," I reply honestly, and in truth I am not. But - neither am I sleepy. Another thought has come to me...a thought I wish to explore.
With him.
And what might that thought be? he asks, mental voice heartbreakingly tender.
In answer, I move more fully atop him, one hand on each side of his head, looking down into those blue, blue eyes.
"I was wondering what it was like to be the one - possessing...."
"Ah." A soft sigh of a word, eyes still lazy and somnolent. One hand, impossibly gentle considering its size, brushes my hair from my face before he leans up to kiss me sweetly.
Then take me.
He smiles against my lips at the sharp intake of breath his words cause, and the kiss - changes. No longer the aggressor, he eases back, allows me to lead in this dance, and I find the sudden rush of power heady.
Long fingers are twisted in my hair, draped across my cheek, and with a sudden, sharp movement I turn and catch his finger in my mouth, biting down hard enough to display my momentary aggression without actually causing pain. Immediately, he relaxes into me, big body pliant, and because he is confident enough to surrender to me without losing himself - I am the one who is lost.
It occurs to me later that he knows much, much more about this intricate game of possession and possessing than I do, but right now - right now all I can think of is the amount of skin laid bare to my explorations, the sighs and groans that rumble out of his chest, the arousal that is at my command.
I set about the task of making him mine...learning the taste of the skin in the hollow of his throat, the texture of the hair across his chest, the scent of the him when I pressed my tongue into his navel. He started up then, but I pushed him back to the floor, watching as his hands fisted in the cloak that was tangled about us both, punishing him with a bite to his flank that I immediately soothed with my tongue.
You are playing with fire, little cat, and sooner or later you are going to get burned. His voice was strained, even in my mind, and I smiled.
"Gods, I hope so."
The rumble that came from his chest was closer to a growl than a groan, but I kept on with my task...laving the crease where thigh met groin, placing light, teasing nips up the inside of each thigh...
Please...
More to ease my own ache than to give him reprieve, I lean up and sheathe him in my mouth.
This time the groan seems torn from him, but I am intent on my task. I intend to learn every inch of him, here; taste, scent, feel...all of it. Silk over steel, velvety and strong, and it was all mine.
The taste of salt at the tip, the slip of skin over my tongue and teeth as I pressed him deep and swallowed to take him into my throat, the quiver of thigh and leg as he fought not to thrust upwards hard enough to gag me...all were fuel to the fire that burned in my spirit, and I allowed it to consume me, devouring him with a single-minded intensity that left him shaking beneath me.
ENOUGH! The mental shout catches me by surprise, and I look up in time to see him jackknife off the floor and reach for me. I have only enough time for the faintest squeak of protest before I am hauled above him, hands nearly spanning my waist as he pushes into me with one hard, insistent thrust.
"I...told you...," he grits out, punctuating each word with a fierce thrust, feet braced on the floor to give him greater leverage, "that if...you...played...with fire....you'd...get...burned..."
I cannot answer, my breath stolen as he pounds into me, one hand snaking between our bodies to stroke me in time with his movements. My head falls back, and once again I am lifted into the spiral, flying higher and higher as he commands me to ride the crest of the wave, not tumble through it.
I barely notice that he has risen to a sitting position, pulling my legs around his waist, fingers still working magic.
"Now," he commands, and with one more thrust I am lost, multi-colored fragments exploding behind my eyelids. Vaguely, in the distance, I hear a voice, realize it is my own, hear his deeper one join me....
And all is still once more, the silence broken only by panting breaths. Muscles quivering slightly from the strain, he lowers himself backwards, arranging me atop him once more.
Possession and Possessing. Two sides of the same coin - and now I understand the need for both.
I never doubted you would, my love.
End
