No Promises

True he had much to learn, but his heart was in it, and he had the courage to never once retreat from any trial set before him. For three days she kept him bound with silence telling him she preferred the eloquence of his eyes, his moans, his screams and then on the fourth, she had freed him, told him he was free to speak his mind, to ask his questions. But he just blushed and murmured that she was right, that there were no words to express his feelings.

But then she had demanded he speak, to give voice to his hopes, his dreams, his deepest fears and secrets, telling him that she had to hold his soul in her hand, as naked as his body. He had wept and choked on the words, words of loneliness and isolation, fear that he would always exist in this limbo between his dreams and reality, fears that if he spoke the truth he would be lost. Yet she would not relent, she kept at him, refusing to let him elude her, and in the end he had given her even this. And she was well aware this was the hardest of all, to give her this with no promise of a life line. For she had not once promised anything beyond this moment in time, this brief rendezvous, this small sanctuary from his endless life. To tear down his fragile inner walls with no guarantee of safety once he was defenseless was perhaps the cruelest thing she had ever done. And he had given her even this.

He had been left shattered, limp, drained and she had held him cradled in her arms, his spirit raw as if she had slowly torn his skin from his flesh. Only then had she had kissed his lips for the first time, feeding on his mouth like one starved. Her kiss held both a price and blessing. She had inhaled his spirit as she had breathed back of her own life energy into his spent and empty heart. She had held him and rocked him and kissed him until he had finally came to life under her lips, trembling, straining toward her, whimpering as he convulsed in the agony of his rebirth.

Then, only then had she taken him, pulling him into her embrace, enveloping him, his shuddering body within hers. His first entry had been transcendent, filling her with power and joy. They had spent nearly all that day together, trapped in one another's arms, each powerless to make even the smallest move away from the other. They had made love endlessly, made love until it had hurt and yet still strained against each other. They had fallen asleep in each other's arms, his cock still lodged deep within her.

On the last day she had spoken little but touched him often. He was silent, and seemed to flinch from her touch, like the sensation of her fingertips was unbearable. Over and over he would pause and inhale as if to speak, but then would softly let the air back out of his lungs, and this time she did not press him to reveal his heart. She knew.

Her flight would leave before his and as she was called to board, she pressed a small square of paper into his palm and turned and walked away without speaking.

On it was written an address and two words, "No promises." He had arrived on her doorstep twenty two days later.

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xantu