Narya Celebrian
Member
Registered: Sep
2002
Location: Lost and all alone
Posts:
33 |
Ah....leather.....
Narya shakes her head to
clear the images forming..... 
I
started working on the following after a long storm we had
earlier in the week. It woke me at midnight, and again at 2:00
a.m., and again at 4:30 a.m., and as I had left the window
blind up to watch the lightening as I went to sleep, I lay
awake each time pondering and dreaming and Frotocizing while
the lightening flashed and the thunder rumbled. Blame the
intensity of this one on the fact that it originated in my
mind in the depths of night when my defences were
lowered...
THUNDER
It was the thunder
that woke you. Storms were not frequent on Tol Eressea, but
they were not completely unknown. Being a light sleeper, night
sounds often woke you when everyone else slept peacefully
through them. At first you were unsure of what had brought you
out of sleep, but then the low growling in the distance began
again.
Knowing the sounds were too slight to awaken
any of the others, and warm already from the stifling heat
that had built up during the day, you didn’t bother putting a
robe on over your nightgown, but quietly walked down the
hallway past the closed doors of the other bedrooms to reach
the parlor. As you often did when up at night, you paused
outside his door and laid your hand gently on it, reaching
through the wood with your love, his face clear before your
mind’s eye. There was never a minute when you did not love
him, but always you shielded him from the burning intensity
that coursed through you when you were near him, and daily
offered him a gentler self than was your wont to be. Here at
night outside his door, you were free to close your eyes and
let the fire burn bright.
Thunder rolled again, and
opening your eyes you shook off the feeling and walked towards
the parlor window. Looking out into the night, you saw a few
faint flashes of light in the distance, and then suddenly a
sheet of lightning lit up the sky immediately above and around
you, so bright you could see the garden clearly. The crash of
thunder that immediately followed seemed to shake the walls,
and you were sure within minutes everyone would be awake and
come out to the parlor. Suddenly aware of your lack of robe,
you grabbed the half-finished quilt from the chair and wrapped
it around you.
But no one did get up, and there was no
more loud thunder, although it continued to rumble in the
distance. Curled up in the quilt, you fell asleep momentarily,
and were woken again by a flash of light on your closed eyes.
The lightning continued. You heard footsteps in the hall, and
turned expectantly towards the parlor door, but they stopped
as whoever it was turned into a bedroom in the hallway. You
put the quilt aside and walked back towards your own room. As
you always did, you stopped and put your hand on his door,
closing your eyes, and in quiet desperation at the depth of
your feeling for him laid your head against the cool wood. It
must have been him in the hallway, for the door was now not
quite closed, and swung open soundlessly at the slight touch.
Still half asleep, on the borders of a dream, you walked in,
and closing the door softly behind you, you crept
forward.
He was sitting by the window, his arms wrapped
around his knees, his head resting forward. You could not tell
if he was asleep. His darks curls had been disarrayed by
sleep, and you could not see his face, though when the
lightning flickered through the window the curve of skin at
the back of his neck gleamed like marble. The thunder grew
louder, more frequent. Lightening flickered off and on like
mad candles dancing in and out of darkness, sometimes bright
and sometimes faint, and after each bright flash you would be
temporarily unable to see. After one particularly bright
flash, when you regained your sight he had lifted his head,
but his eyes remained closed, and his lips curled slightly
upwards in a sensuous smile, as if he drinking in the light
and sound of the storm through all his other senses. You
forgot everything, everything there ever was to know except
him. How like a dream it was, how he repeatedly came so
clearly into view and then was hidden in the
darkness.
The sleeves of his nightshirt were pushed
above his elbows, as if he also had been too warm and had
found them too constricting. He had undone many of the buttons
in the heat, and the folds of the cloth lay loosely on his
chest. The fainter lightning illuminated shadows across his
face, neck and chest. Brighter lightning lit his whole being,
and the light seemed to originate from inside him rather than
from outside, to leap out into the night from his still form
and glow in the sky. And with each flash the thunder growled
louder, more insistently, pressing closer.
A
particularly bright flash of lightning lit the sky and room,
and as your eyes recovered you saw he had turned and was
looking at you, his eyes calm and his smile soft and tender.
“The storm woke you, too, I see. I am glad of the company.
Come sit with me.” And patting the seat beside him, he moved
over to make room. You moved towards him, and as you
approached the window you could see the lightning was
intensifying, and could hear the thunder rumbling ominously,
an almost constant growl now. Then suddenly the rain came,
bursting down in an enormous torrent. Closer to him, you could
see the slight sheen of sweat on his upper lip and brow, the
glow in his cheeks. “You are too warm,” you said. “Would you
like the window open? The rain will have washed away some of
the heat.”
“That would be nice,” he replied, so you
leaned over the sill and opened it. A gust of wild freshness
blew in to meet you, but the hard rain was slanting away, so
it was safe to leave the window open, despite the few errant
drops that found their way inside. You held your hand out into
the rain, delighting in the cool water as it beat down. Behind
you he laughed softly as the wind reached him.
Turning
to him, you could see that despite the breeze, the fire in his
cheeks had not died. ‘Is this new?” he asked, standing with
you now, his finger lightly tracing the lace on your nightgown
from your shoulder down across your chest and up to the other
shoulder. You could not answer, but found yourself repeating
the tracing on his body, from one shoulder down across his
chest and back up to his shoulder. Only when the goosebumps
arose on his flesh did you realize your hand was still wet
with rain. “The water feels good,” he said, “cooling after
this heat.” And he reached his hand out into the rain, and
gently traced the water across the line of your jaw. Wetting
your hand again, you lightly caressed his closed eyelids, then
the hollow in his neck, then the curve of his upper lip. And
whatever part of him you caressed with the cooling rain he
reciprocated by kissing – first your closed eyelids, then the
hollow in your neck, then the curve of your upper lip. And
finally, at the height of the storm, in bright light and
shadow and darkness, accompanied by the roar and crash of
constant thunder, there was no longer a door separating him
from the brightly burning fire.
__________________
Things fall apart; the center
cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world
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09-01-2002
07:41 PM
Then I spot the
geek behind the counter who's hanging on every word. 
about the
French boxers. Six buttons? Luckily they have a side
view:
the
underwear poll
