First Night Alone Ch. 02

In less than three hours, I had broken a dozen rules. So hey if I'm going to burn why not throw caution to the wind. And on top of that, I don't know if I would have had the courage to be on my own. I took his hand to rise only because it felt like the right thing to do, not because I was so frail. And he sat beside his body on the bench and I laid down facing the room on the pillows next to him and place my head on his thighs. It felt natural and intimate, one of the most intimate or power filled acts in the universe. His body tensed like cording on a bow. I took a deep breath and our body's relaxed as one. It was as thought someone cut the cording in my brain and the fear and tension just wasn't there anymore. Before he touched me, I could feel his fingertips. Each one warm silk touching the fine hairs invisible on my cheek, my skin straining for contact, in complete rebellion against the single driving thought, do not ruin this. Dread in anticipation of Father's return danced with unspoiled delight in this moment around the inside of my skull. One thought, a pair of feet soft as falling mist and graceful as a leopard while the other thundering hoofs scraping against bone and gouging nerves.

A hand coming to rest on my forehead parted and confusion inside me stopped completely. My need for that touch swallowed and used my determination against me, turning it into a monstrous drive. Every cell reached out to him and I could feel the air around me move like a second skin up and over the whorls and swirls and tightly trimmed nails. I clung to each knuckle with their ripples of flesh. The lines worked into the almond brown skin down to where they met sharp tendons and lushes veins and arteries. Together we reached out, his touch warm mature, liquid comforting eternal and mine hot timorous starved. There we resided maybe for days.

I woke, I suppose, almost but not quite alone. I lay on my back aware of another presence much to near, and held with whatever sole I had been born with frozen; not with panic or fear but out of respect. The assistant priest was only here to check the Drapa's body and leave. I could only spy upon him on the peripheral the way the way I once watched an old woman gathering mushrooms was resting against a rock when a snow leopard walked by without a glance. She stood there as I lay, knowing we are out of our element though our kind are higher on the evolutionary ladder. Because we ourselves were not the most impresses of our pool, and would cause more pain than anything if we were to make our presents know. So I disappeared into myself to wait, to be alone again, and not be alone again.

The priest's robes stirred the air near my bare legs, I wanted to withdraw or kick at the fabric. He hovered between the Drapa's body and me until I was just about to do something to rid ourselves of him. Though I had no idea what that would be, maybe my new found ability for irritation rippled out into the room, because his spine stiffed ever so and he quickly gathered the cooling wash rags and lighted more resin.

I realized even with my eyes closed that I was propped up against a warm body, that we were both stretched out, slightly reclining. My body cradled by his robed his legs on either side. His arms resting on my shoulders hands on my arms and all I wanted was for him to move them up to rest on my painfully youthful looking chest. The thought caught me like lighting flashing in the darkest night's sky. He gently removed his hands from me and placed them on his thighs.

I shifted my body to the left, craning my torso around like a coral snake and turned myself to place one small hand on either side of his hips. Pushing and arching my chest out and up I looked up into his black eyes my attention drawn to his sooth dry lips the color reminding me of dragon fruit. If I had to choose between one or the either, never having tasted either, I could not help but prefer to taste his mouth and starve rather than eat the fruit, knowing his flesh was my meal.

He gazed down upon me with the compassion that marked his trade and was just as sincere, but it scared me to the core trapped in what was this horrible child no matter what would be. My body folded over into itself so that head pressed against his torso. The pity wrapped with want, the want that he needed, once. The women he saw, loved touched. Under elaborate gowns embroidered with jeweled colored forest; lived their soft toffee skin that sat over delicate hips cupping dark thick hair, under tear drop shaped bellies. The diminutive breast sloping out and upwards, nipples the color of their beautiful smiling bowed lips when clouds passed shadows upon their heart shaped faces. A half dozen pair of wide set eyes looked up to him, each set held a different shade earths brown from sun bleach sand to rich moist loam. Distracted by hair spilling across his body long, thick, weighty, better belonging to minks.

And a jealously was conceived deep in my belly, a small hard round piece of stone quickly growing to fill my chest, catching in my throat, blinding them from me. What right do they have to him, over me? I thought. They are not less, but does that make me less by default? My mind is not weak or my emotions inadequate to grasp what was happening to me. Only my form less fitted for this scene, turning ardor into something sick.

I wanted what they had been given, to give what they gave believing that is could not be less. And receiving gifts from him as well, these things I deserved. The crown of my head burned against his belly and flashed down igniting my spine deep into my abdomen enwrapping the envy. The two sensations created a catalyst there spreading outward.

My body stiffened, I thrust my ass out and up trying to keep it away from me. I had seen lumps of wax melted down in a cauldron, hot thick spreading. And it did, down my thighs wrapping around my kneecaps encasing the muscles of my thighs. Swallowing and pushing down to the tips of my toes. The hot wax in my belly turned upward, I was not beneath panicking, my hands slipped to the pillows on either side of his hips and my head was deep into the folds of his lap, and the hot molten substance inside encompassed my face and chest in one large wave pressing out to spill down my shoulders and trickle through arms, elbows and dying out filling me to my fingerprints.

I was vibrating like pot of boiling water; claustrophobia bore down as I pushed his legs outward and to raise my head. The dress I wore, now rested light on the top of two slightly larger rounds of rump and the once loosely hanging sleeves over bony shoulders; presently squeezed the curves and strained against shoulder blades. As I looked up and shoulders met, in front the soft cotton strained painfully, constricting small meaty breast. Our eyes were level now and his face held calm on the surface but shock rippled right below as dark irises intense gazed past my face and with the touch of a strong hand traveled along my back to rest at the edge of fabric. The exposed flesh molted red under the look, and traveled down the tight valley between and exploded painfully into my gut. He met my eyes and arrogance washed way fear, this would be my death. So be it.

Warmth from his body pressed against me, I had seen the pulse in his neck peak and drop. His chest rose quickly making my throat catch tight, but there was no sweet musky breath along my skin. And quite predatory, I leaned into his face and glided to the right so that our noses hovered above the others cheek.

"Where is the breath that drives your chest to pound?" I whispered.

"It is a missing as yours." He murmured, we closed our eyes collectively for I felt his eye lashes stir the air across my cheeks and took a deep silent breath in bringing flesh almost to flesh. We exhaled and the air move from my lungs drying my throat, quietly humming past nostrils expelling across cheeks and rustling the hair around my face and could not help but smile and laugh. But the cotton, no matter how soft strained tits so tightly the movement bound the ignorant nipples sitting on top and they swelled caught between the rigid folds so that I was almost stuck blind. Musk now clung to us and I locked on to the small dark division of his lips. And the need was too much, the rapid breaths rolling down my throat, the rippling of fabric against breast, the cool air taunting my exposed thigh, lips, and ass. Then he was there, silken lips against silken lips.

A cold thunderous wall rose up behind me a huge horrible wall, and it was all wrong to soon.