Through the Darkness

Stefan lies on his back upon the ground, surrounded in darkness. Cool, soft blades of grass hold him aloft; they make for the most soothing blanket for his bare skin. Above him, high up in the summer night sky, he thinks of the millions of distant stars that are keeping silent watch upon him.

How many countless hours had he spent in his youth looking up at those stars, mapping out their patterns in his mind as if they possessed a silent message only for him? It still strikes him with awe: the stars above him now are the same ones that were above him then, and will be above him forever and after. They are true and constant. He can place his faith in the stars.

Yet, now he doesn't see them, their shimmering glow failing to attract his attention. No, he only sees one beauty above him, upon him, as she takes him within her tender body. Her name is Sarah, the only woman who has ever embodied the word "love" for him, the only one that ever will. It's not a determination. He knows it. With every embrace, with every touch upon her nude flesh, with every kiss of his lips and thrust of hips, he tells her how convinced he is that he will love her forever.

He feels her hair cascade around his face as her supple lips swirl upon his cheeks and mouth and neck. In the darkness, he still sees the colour of each strand, like pulled molasses taffy. Just the thought of it elicits a sweetness on his tongue. There were days that the sun seemed to set the highlights in her hair on fire, like veins in a goldmine. There were nights when it seemed to just melt into the swelling darkness. Her hair, like the rest of Sarah, was always enchanting.

He eases her higher and inhales her scent. A whisper of intoxicating rosewater wafts along her neck as he nibbles on the smooth flesh he finds there. He nuzzles up against her soft breasts, then takes each one into his mouth and swirls his tongue around her taut nipples. He wraps his lips around one and sucks hard, drawing a sudden gasp from Sarah's velvet throat. She chases it with a deeply satisfied giggle.

Everything she does and is at this moment serves only to stir the desire brewing in his gut. Once more he feels her swaying upon him, senses the poetic balance of her sultry, writhing gesticulations. He pulses within her, probing her with rhythmic strokes of his pelvis.

So many times they have been like this on the ground by their little cottage by the lake. Stefan still recalls the first time they succumbed to the cajoling imps upon their shoulders as they stood at the water's edge that early summer's night. Witnessing Sarah strip off her clothes and stand there as the moonlight licked glistening white lines through her hair, along her breasts, around the curve of her waist and over her smooth bottom was a heady elixir for Stefan to absorb.

She had never looked more beautiful. As the vision of her was inscribed in his thoughts, as vivid as any masterwork painting, part of him had worried he would never see her as beautiful again.

He was so wrong.

Each time she stood raw and revealed by the lake, she was as desirable as the last. Each time she emerged from the lake, the shimmering water sliding down her nude body, he wanted her more. And each time he lay with her on this same grass, he claimed her spirit and body as if it were the first and last time he would ever do so.

With impassioned gyrations she rides upon him now. As they lock their lips and entwine their tongues, he feels her buck her hips against his crotch and clench her strong thighs against him. He angles his arms around her back and cinches her in. His fingers comb through her hair then twist handfuls in tight grips.

Like a hand in the pocket, they move as one. Stefan fills her with steady, quickening thrusts. The soft drag of her inner flesh against his hard length draws all of his blood to a decisive point.

Sarah gasps into his mouth - hot, wet breath spiced with an aching groan from her throat. She trembles in his embrace, her soft belly quivering against his, her breasts pressing against his chest. She lifts her head slightly, drowning out the crickets and the water with her languid moans before collapsing her mouth upon his once more.

Stefan throws his hips up once, twice. His stomach tightens and he freezes as he experiences a tantalizing rush through his entire being. It surges through him and out, streaming hard, thick, rich strands of his desire deep into Sarah. He grips at her hair painfully and looses a furious groan into her waiting mouth.

With the moon spying overhead, they lay still like this, frozen in a moment of precious, exquisite fulfillment.

Through the darkness he sees her. Once again, Stefan thinks that Sarah has never been more beautiful.

For uncounted minutes after, they lie there upon their bed of grass and earth. Stefan holds her close, tracing his fingertips along her arm and the curve of her hip for the thousandth time. Eyes closed, he pictures the stars above, their patterns, their messages to him. He smiles, comforted by the faithfulness of these ancient and silent sentries, and by the warmth of the woman beside him.

Finally, Sarah pulls herself up and helps him to his feet. Dutifully, she gathers up their clothes discarded on the ground. Stefan listens to her chuckle as she does. How often had she done this?

As they walk back to the cottage, Stefan holds her arm closely, and freely places his trust in her gentle guidance as she leads him past the rocks and sticks that he can no longer see since that day at the hospital when Sarah faded from his eyes one last time.

Like the stars, he had committed her to the memory of his mind's eye. He is the luckiest bastard who walks upon this earth. Her smell, her touch, the sound of her voice and breath, her light will always shine for him.

The stars and Sarah.

True and constant.

His vision of them never to be taken away.