Silence of My Love

It simply wasn't their nature.

But she now understood the story Donna had told her of Artemis and Narcissus; for the first time, she realized how Artemis felt when she first caught sight of Narcissus -- spellbound and helpless before such great beauty. Eternally damned for wanting the one man she could not have. She was desperate to claim him, and even knowing how forbidden Joseph was didn't stop her from wanting him, nor could she pull her eyes away. Knowing herself to be weak, she let her rebellious eyes have their way, ravenously consuming him as he lay sleeping.

He was lying on his side, facing her, so she had a wonderful view of his perfection. Loose blonde ringlets fell over his well-shaped head. Fine-boned, strong, patrician features; delicate, ageless, and beautiful -- features that would stand long after true youth had faded. Such a look would have been misplaced on any other man, especially one who was so much man, but when coupled with those eyes and their melting gaze, it came together perfectly. And Azar, what eyes they were! Right now, his eyes were closed in sleep, but had they been open, they would have revealed a matching set of startling sea-green irises, as clear as the waters of a quiet lake. Eyes with the ability to see into one's soul and find the secrets thought well hidden; the most compassionate and expressive eyes she had ever seen.

Continuing with her assessment, her eyes settled on his lips. Soft, even lips that, if she closed her eyes, she could almost taste them. The strong, stubborn chin, long neck, and powerful, well-defined shoulders, relaxed in sleep. A wide, muscular chest that narrowed to a slim waist with a tightly defined abdomen. Joseph was simply spectacular -- to quote Donna, "sexy as sin, and just as seductive."

He was breathtaking.

A sudden movement broke her from her erotic thoughts, bringing her attention once again to the man on the bed. He was quite restless and she wondered at the cause. Nightmare? Erotic fantasy? Or was it the same ghost haunting him, as she herself was haunted? Those deep, dark instances of time that were better forgotten but always managed to come, unbidden, during sleep. For his sake, she hoped it was something pleasant -- at least as pleasant as the impromptu strip tease he just provided her with. He had just turned onto his back. She watched as he brought one arm to his forehead while the other rested on his stomach, right above where the sheet covered the lower half of his body.

Or tried to; the sheet was tangled around him, showing her tantalizing bits of his flesh that the sheet missed.

One strong, muscular thigh.

The firm, naked curve of his buttock.

The long, thick imprint of the anatomy that made him a man.

Azar! The most peculiar feeling came over her as she stood staring at him, eyes glued to that imprint, praying he would move so that more of the sheet would fall away and give her a full view of what she was so obviously ogling.

Embarrassed at the turn her thoughts took, and feeling the blood start to heat her cheeks, she backed away from the door, trying to give herself a chance to calm down. Once she was outside the room, she paused. Why had she been brought here? Surely not to merely gawk at the man. And what of his effect on her senses? It only took that brief look to convince her that she wanted him, had always wanted him, so now what? Could she actually be entertaining thoughts of making love to Joseph?

It wouldn't be wise; there was too much at risk for her to approach him sexually without some sign he would welcome it. Their friendship was one; rejection was another. The list was endless, but she also knew that he cared about her. Indeed, it would have been hard to miss, but that was the love of a friend, not the kind of love related to a potential lover -- no interest whatsoever. No sexual advances, no teasing, no touching, not even one single kiss. Perhaps he truly wasn't interested in her, but after feasting her eyes on him tonight, platonic thoughts went right out the window. Her body refused to listen to it. Just staring at Joseph created the most intense sensations and feelings she had ever felt. Eric could never draw those feelings from her, and he had pushed for a physical relationship every time they met. Even after she agreed to his persistent demands, there was no sexual desire for him, just the need to please the man she thought she loved.

She found out two things that day last week. One was that if she had followed through with Eric, she would have been sacrificing something very precious; not just her soul and life, but the chance to make her first time something very special. After all, she would only have one first time. Another was that in her heart of hearts, she was trying to replace Joe with Eric, trying to find a substitute for the love she could not have -- or thought she could not have. Tonight had been tossed to the winds of fate, and she could no longer hide her secret yearnings. Why else would she have been led to him if not to be given another chance at love -- real love? Was she bold enough to reach out and grasp it? Could she?

Do not hesitate. Enter and see.

Her every fantasy was through that door, and all she had to do was walk in and claim it. Seemed simple enough, she thought, staring at the doorway. The problem was once she stepped through that doorway, her life would never be the same. Was she ready for such a change, for all the implications entering that room entailed? Looking back over the unending nightmare her life had become, how could she pass up this chance? There really wasn't any choice at all. Whatever happened in that room had to be better then anything she left behind in her past, and that made the risk worth it for her. Who was she to deny fate?

Taking her faltering courage in hand, she strode through the doorway and directly into the room. In the short time she'd been gone, Joseph had drawn the sheet more securely around the lower half of his body, much to her disappointment; she had been looking forward to what else the scanty sheet might expose. Smiling, she decided that she liked this aspect of her personality -- Raven, the wanton. How unbecoming! Quickly covering her mouth before her faint chuckles betrayed her, she silently laughed into her hand, praying it would be enough to prevent Joseph from waking. When the laughter had passed, she was pleased to discover that it eased most of the apprehension she'd felt about being in his room. Instead of nervousness, she was feeling quite bold now -- bold enough to move closer to his bed.

She stopped at the foot of the bed and stared at him. From her angle, she had a clear view of him; he was even more devastating up close. She also noticed he was beginning to wake.

Watching as sleep slowly departed his consciousness; she waited with baited breath as he began to stir. She felt hypnotized as she watched him go through the motions of waking, slowly stretching, extending, and flexing his well-trained muscles with fluid grace while he shook off the last of his slumber. She wondered what he would think when he saw her there. Just then, his sea green eyes opened, pinning her with their beauty.

Startled, he quickly sat up in bed and rapidly signed, 'Is something wrong? Do you need me for anything?'

Oh yes my love, you are needed, but not in the way you think. Quickly reassuring him, she touched his hand, stopping his motion of leaving the bed. "No, Joseph; there is no danger. I am sorry if I startled you with my presence here."

Smiling at her, he waved away her apologies. 'Don't worry, I wasn't really sleeping all that soundly, and I was startled only because I was concerned for you.'

"I am fine, Joseph." Raven felt herself start to melt; who wouldn't, when faced with such obvious concern and piercing green eyes? It would take a stronger woman than she not to be affected by him. Any woman who walked away from this man was in dire need of psychiatric help. It made her wonder why some lucky woman hadn't snatched him up yet; she was sure it wasn't from lack of opportunity -- not with his money and looks -- and certainly not lack of trying from the single and eligible ladies of New York. Azar! He even had the not-so-single-or-eligible trying for him. Just one more reason she had never tried to capture his attention before. He had his pick of the most beautiful women in the world; what would he want with painfully shy and introverted Raven? She never had the courage to try… until now. Now was a different story.

Totally engrossed in her thoughts, she didn't see the look Joseph was giving her. If she had, she would have blushed a most becoming shade of pink. Raven was in his room! Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine she would seek him out. Countless times he had dreamed of her, hungered for her, yearned for her until it was a constant ache in his soul, until he was almost insane with his unrequited love for her. But he had long since given up on forming something deeper with her; she seemed totally happy with their friendship, and since he didn't want to risk upsetting her he never pressed, no matter how much his heart protested. So instead of a grand passion, he ended up with a deep and biding friendship, and kept his love silent; buried deep within, never to be spoken.

It had been three years since they first meet, but for him nothing had changed -- a fact that became glaringly obvious when Eric stepped into the picture and turned his world upside down. He never thought himself a jealous man, but he discovered that he was when it came to Raven. Realization came when she found him in Central Park to talk to him. Apparently she had been seeing Eric for quite some time and just then felt comfortable enough to share her joy -- not with just anyone, him, the man who had loved her for years. He was so hurt, he couldn't see straight.

Him -- jealous!

He had more women vying for his attention than he had time in a day. The most beautiful women in the world wanted Joseph Wilson, and he couldn't become serious about any of them. He wasn't heartless about it; he respected and even cared for every woman he ever dated, but one thing always made sure the dates never progressed into anything more serious.

They were not Raven.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he gave his attention back to the woman standing at the foot of his bed. Realizing that she still hasn't answered his question, Joseph repeated, 'Do you need my help for anything?'

What a loaded question that is, Mr. Wilson! Meeting his questioning look, Raven couldn't help the soft smile that kissed the corners of her lips. She did need him, needed him in ways she was just now beginning to understand. Seeing the puzzled look on his face, she knew she had better answer before he really started questioning her. "I am not certain. I have had trouble sleeping this night."

'Eric?'Joe asked.

Seeing the shielded look that covered her face almost made Joe wish that Eric were still alive so he could punch the bastard. That would shock anyone who knew him; Joe detested violence. Ever since his father's misjudgment had cost him his voice, Joe vowed he would never follow Slade's destructive path. He always tried to settle things in non-violent ways, but that didn't mean he couldn't defend himself. His mother had trained him to be a deadly fighter; between that and his powers, he could easily have become the killer his father was, had he not been a man who strongly preferred to make peace rather then war. But Eric Forrester was one man he would have gladly beaten the hell out of -- and enjoyed every minute of it -- for the pain he caused this sweet, gentle woman.

The woman he always considered his.

Sighing, he acknowledged that there was nothing he could do about it now. What was left of Eric was buried in a small, weighted coffin and dropped somewhere out in the Pacific Ocean, forever out of the sight of the one woman to survive his dangerous brand of lovemaking. The same woman who was holding herself at the foot of his bed.

Seeing that whatever was bothering her would have to be coaxed out of her, he scooted over, clearing a place for her to sit on the edge of the bed. Watching her, he patted the bed, indicating that she should sit down.

Taking his offer, she left her position at the foot of the bed to join him on the mattress. When she was seated, he grasped her chin gently between his fingers and turned her so that she was facing him, staring up into his eyes. Once again he inquired, 'Did the dreams of Eric interrupt your sleep?'

Dreams? Not likely; nothing associated with Eric was ever as pleasant as mere dreams. "The things that disturb my rest have a closer relationship to nightmares than dreams, Joseph," she replied painfully.

Desperately wanting to be of assistance to her, he asked, 'What can I do? Please let me help you.'

She looked into his eyes and saw his genuine need to comfort her. She was too weak to deny the very thing she wanted; she wanted this man to comfort her. She wanted the privilege of lying in his arms and crying if she needed to, or just lying in his arms because she wished to feel his heartbeat under her ear, soothing her with its steady rhythm. Oh yes, comfort from Joseph would be a wondrous thing. Smiling softly at him, she leaned forward and softly whispered, "Will you hold me?"

It was said so softly that if he hadn't been listening for it, he might have missed it. Would he hold her? He couldn't get his arms around her fast enough! Some questions didn't require answers; this was one of them. How could he not hold her? He wanted her in his arms, too. There was no possibility of him denying her; he needed her too badly. There was pain in her soul, and he wanted -- no needed -- to be the one who would alleviate it. More then anything, he wanted to make her smile. He wanted to share his world with her, show her the endless beauty of life and free her from the bondage of her repressed spirit; such was his love for her.

Never spoken.

Always silent.

Ever present.

Sitting up, he opened his arms, calling to her to find what solace she could within his embrace.

Leaving her perch at side of the bed, Raven went directly into his outstretched arms, feeling them close tightly around her, bringing her cheek flush with his chest. She felt him lower his head until his chin touched the crown of her head, his breath gently stirring the inky strands. Being in Joseph's arms, wrapped up and cosseted, was the first sense of security she'd felt in over a week. Nestling close and breathing deeply of his scent, Raven relaxed her guard and gave in to the need to let someone else be the strong protector for once.

Feeling the tension leaving her body, Joe pulled her deeper into his embrace. Once he was sure she was comfortable, he settled back against the headboard, content to just hold her and listen to her breathe. To him, this was the most perfect of moments; after a three-year wait, he finally had the mysterious Raven of Azarath in his arms.

Right where she belonged, and if everything went as he prayed, where she would stay. For years, his feelings for the petite Raven had grown every day, rapidly increasing, deepening, until there was no denying it; it was blindingly clear. He loved Raven. He'd been feeling that way for a long time now -- a really long time.

For a long time, he thought he had his feelings for her under control, hidden; but his assumption that no one else had discovered his secret turned out to be false. Apparently, Kory had known from the start, maybe even before he had. He'd never forget how she confronted him; he was on monitor duty with Raven. Normally, it didn't bother him to work with her, but that day was exceptionally hard for some reason. The very smell of her was driving him crazy, so he excused himself on the pretense being hungry and headed to the kitchen. It was there that Koriand'r cornered him. Nodding her head in the direction where Raven was still at the monitors, she said in her warm husky tones, "In love with her and it's driving you crazy, huh?"

He could only stare at her in shock. She knew! He wondered who else had figured out his secret. Was he so transparent? 'Does anyone else suspect?'

In her usual straightforward manor, she said, "No -- though there's been plenty of speculation about the two of you." When asked how she'd known, she winked at him. "I'm the emotion expert, remember? Even if you weren't betraying yourself in a hundred different ways, I'd still know." Seeing his confusion, she added, "You look at Raven the same way I look at Dick." Smiling at his stricken expression, she patted his cheek and turned to leave. Before exiting into the hallway, she turned back to him and promised, "Don't worry Joe. Your secret is safe with me."

Talk about a wake up call! Until he'd been confronted with it, he was almost scared to acknowledge it to himself, but there really had been no denying his love after the battle with Eric, as he stood in the middle of Raven's bedroom, holding her trembling body, watching her cry for a man he silently cursed until he ran out of breath.

To feel this intensely about someone and know it wasn't reciprocated was maddening. Every night he went to sleep with that thought on his mind, but even knowing didn't change how he felt. He still loved her.

Still needed her.

If only she needed him the same way. His touch seemed to have a calming effect on her; her breathing had slowed and deepened to the point where he suspected that she was more than half asleep. She snuggled more tightly against him, curling her legs up and in the process, shifting her hips so that the sheet covering him suddenly drew tight across his thighs.

Just having Raven in his arms was erotic enough for him, but having the unexpected sensation of the sheet sliding over sensitive anatomy triggered an instant response in his groin. Gasping, Joe tried to be as still as possible, waiting for the feeling to pass. It didn't; he felt like a live wire had touched him. Gritting his teeth, he prayed that Raven didn't choose that moment to glance up at him -- he wasn't sure he could explain his expression, let alone the deep, intense yearning that came over him with her innocent touch. All he knew was that he needed to get his unruly desire under control. It wouldn't do for him to betray her trust like this. Taking slow, deep, even breaths, he thought, Cool off, Wilson, she didn't come to you for this -- no matter how much you want her. Just ignore your body's demands and stop thinking about it. That should do the trick… I hope.

Over and over, he repeated those thoughts, praying that his body would indeed listen, but no matter how hard he tried, his arousal continued to burn unabated. It didn't help that he could feel the gentle pressure of her breast against his ribs, pulling his thoughts away from his efforts at self-control. Thank heaven she was facing the other direction, and wouldn't see his very obvious condition should her eyes open without warning.

Think of something else! Anything else! He silently cursed his rebellious brain. For once, his willpower was deserting him; so intense were his emotions that he could feel his whole body heating with desire. Think of something else? How could he? His senses were alive, taunting him with the very thing he wanted most.

Hearing -- Her soft, gentle laugh.

Sight -- Seeing her in his arms, their bodies intertwined.

Touch -- Feeling her delicate form under his hands.

Smell -- Her mysterious, feminine scent, teasing him. Flowers kissed with the rains of thunderstorms; delicate and dangerous.

Taste -- The desire that that was traveling through his body, making him hungry in ways he'd never experienced before. Not just for sex, but for making love. Making love to this woman. No one else had this kind of effect on him.