Random urge to write some hopefully non-fluffy romance. Enjoy!

“Why have you come?”

Kartik stands in front of my desk, illuminated from behind by the golden light of my lamp. The effect is that of a shadow, with dark eyes and darker intentions. “I wanted to discuss something with you.” His eyes flicker to the door, anxious someone might come in and catch us. I’d tell him not to worry, that Ann is off visiting her cousins in Kent, but something about his fluttery nervousness is endearing to me. For once, I can play the calm, collected one.

“That much is obvious, else you wouldn’t be here, Kartik,” I say. His name rolls off my tongue with a soft sweetness that even takes me by surprise. I’m spurred by the honey of my words. I boldly step forward, cup his face in my hands, and kiss him full on the lips.

He entertains me a few seconds of feathery soft kisses, no more harmful than a butterfly’s wings, before he pulls away. Even in the shadow I can see the crease of worry form between his eyebrows.

“What is it?” I ask, stepping forward to fill the cold emptiness between us. “No one will catch us.”

“You cannot be sure of that,” he responds, turning away from me. I consider reaching for him again, but another idea forms in my head. It is a wicked one, one that I’d never have thought of months ago, or even last week. But things are different now, and something must be done for the need between us.

“Hold that thought,” I whisper, reaching for my nightgown and slipping behind the dressing screen.

The bedsprings creak gently as Kartik sits upon my bed. Other than that, all that can be heard is the chorus of crickets in the distance, and the rustling of my clothes as I struggle to undress.

“You shouldn’t be doing this, Gemma.”

“I shouldn’t dress for bed at ten o’clock at night? Why not?” I tease, throwing my school uniform over the screen’s top.

“I mean you should not be doing this in my presence.” Kartik’s voice is controlled and monotonous. I can picture him biting his lip in worry, and resist the urge to see for myself if he is.

The laces of my corset make swift whisking sounds as I tug them loose. I carefully set my corset over my skirts once I relieve myself of it. I do not argue what Kartik has said. It is incredibly unladylike for me to be doing this. But my cheeks do not burn from embarrassment, but rather from something else, a feeling I cannot quite begin to understand.

I remove my boots and stockings, taking care not fall over as I stand on one foot to do so. It proves quite a feat, and I must used the wall to steady myself. Through my struggle, Kartik says nothing. I almost fear he has left, slipped out under the ruckus I have caused.

“You’re awfully quiet,” I whisper. My scalp tingles from relief as I rid my hair of pins.

His voice startles me, for I’ve begun to believe he had left. “This cannot go on, Gemma,” he says softly. “I am a danger to you, to your reputation.”

Silence follows in the wake of his voice. Even the crickets seem to have stopped their nocturnal symphony. It appears they too wish to see how I respond. Very quietly, in only a thin chemise, I step out from the dressing screen. Kartik’s eyes grow wide at the sight of me, then look away for modesty’s sake.

“Do you wish to be the perfect gentleman, Kartik?” My voice sounds strange to me, masked by the sound of blood pumping in my ears. He stares at his hands, fidgety things, pretending he hasn’t heard me. “Look at me,” I instruct, mustering as much authority as I can.

With a pained expression, he fixes his eyes a few inches above my head, then lowers them accordingly to meet my gaze. “Why are you so afraid?” I ask, smoothing my chemise over my stomach.

“Why are you not?” he croaks.

“You’re not very intimidating, I’m afraid,” I lie. It’s not him who is intimidating, but rather what he can do that is. But that is what thrills me more than anything else.

“I am a danger to you,” he repeats, settling his eyes once more on his hands.

“I am tired of safety, Kartik. I want to live.”

I walk to him and place my hands on his shoulders. “Look at me, Kartik,” I whisper, knowing full well that the lamp’s light has cast my chemise into near transparency. When he does not move, I gently guide his face, and watch as his eyes darken with that unfamiliar emotion as he takes in the sight of me.

“Gemma,” he murmurs. “I could ruin you.”

“You can do no more harm than what they have already done to me. I might die, suffocated in a corset and lace, bending under the pressure of small talk and tea dances.” Still cupping his face, I cradle his head to my chest, placing kisses in his silky hair. “You make me feel alive.”

He exhales, raising gooseflesh with his warm breath. I knead my fingers into his tense shoulders. He is a statue, frozen by the fear of ruin. His lips hover the swell of my breast, so that every inhale brings another ghost of a kiss. I press harder with my hands, willing him to relax. Gradually, he melts under my touch, like chocolate over a stove.

“Touch me,” I murmur, filled with a longing I can only compare to that which I felt in my dreams. Very slowly, he reaches and places his hands on my hips, softly stirring the fabric of my chemise. His lips press to my breast with more certainty, parting slightly to allow for a better taste. A surprised moan escapes me, and his hands grip me hard, forming valleys in the soft skin of my hips.

“This is bad, this is very bad,” he groans, moving his lips up my neck.

“For whom?” I ask, trying to unbutton his shirt clumsily. I duck around his head to kiss his throat.

“For whomever catches us.” Kartik releases my hips and pulls me onto the bed, kicking his boots off. I wince as each one hits the floor with a determined thud, but I do not have time to mourn the silence before his lips are upon me again. My lips are parted by his tongue, uncertain and sure at the same time; he is not as practiced as Simon was, but he is earnest, and that is what matters.

I jerk my head to the side, bringing his with me greedily, so that I have better access to the stubborn buttons of his shirt. They come undone obediently, and my fingers waste no time in stroking the warm skin of his chest. Even with eyes closed I make a map of him, touching him intently as if I am blind and he is Braille. I can feel every slope of muscle, the jagged scar that streaks across his chest, and the dark line of hair that, like an inverted compass, points me in the direction of south.

“Gemma,” he moans. “Please…we shouldn’t…”

I have no ears for his pleading, for his body language is the only communication I need. It tells me to continue, to travel further. He presses into me with an incredible need; it is stronger than I’ve ever felt, stronger than I ever could have imagined. I gasp as his lips rake my neck and draw him closer, wrapping my legs around him so that nothing could ever hope to pass between us.

“Is this what you want, Gemma?” he whispers into my ear, biting the earlobe softly as he waits for an answer.

I wish I could describe to him every feeling he brings upon my body, every time I’ve dreamed of him, fantasized about him. I want him to know it, to understand it as I do, but there are no words that can explain what I feel for him, only actions.

“I want you, Kartik,” I say softly. His hand strokes the side of my breast through my chemise.

“Is it worth the strap to steal the sugar?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, bringing his fingertips to my lips. He watches, dazed, as I place his index finger in my mouth and bite it softly.

“Do you want the consequences that come with me?”

I suck on his finger while I contemplate my answer. I know I am driving him absolutely mad in two completely different ways and I don’t really feel bad about it. He shifts his hips against mine, pressing against the part of me that remains a mystery, the part of me I’d like to discover…

With Kartik.

“I think the question is, ‘Can I imagine a life without you and your various complications?’”

He laughs throatily. “So I am the complicated one?”

“Well you’re certainly not simple.”

“And neither are you. Under different circumstances I might call you difficult, but I don’t really want to ruin my chances.”

“So you think there’s a chance,” I whisper.

His eyes seem to glow like Tiger’s eye, lustrous in shades of brown and gold. “I’m holding on to it,” he murmurs. I draw his face to mine and kiss him deeply, with all of the passion and coordination I can muster. The bedsprings creak more insistently as we grapple for each other, trying to be as close as humanly possible, with all the friction in the right places.

His mouth leaves mine to venture somewhere uncharted by a man’s lips, and I am left tilting my head back in ecstasy as he explores. I shiver when he pulls away to get a good look at me and plan his next course of action. This sole moment of chill clears my head enough to think. The whirlwind of passion within me has died to a mere scuttling of leaves and I am left with only uncertainty.

Kartik gazes at me as if he is a child on Christmas morn, and I am the big present wrapped in a shiny bow. The undeniable hunger on his face is beautiful, especially to know that I am the source. I started this. I brought it on him. So why am I suddenly so…unsure of it?

His eyes scan lovingly over my form, eventually landing on my face. His brow once more creases in worry.

“What is it?”

“I…” The preceding events suddenly flash before my eyes. I am nothing but a wicked temptress, not even worthy to be with someone like Kartik, so honest and good. I am ashamed, of my behavior and my failure to control it.

“Gemma?”

Tears slip back into my hair, onto the pillows. I cross my arms over my chest and try to hide my face from him. “I’m sorry,” I choke. “I’m just…”

“It’s alright, Gemma,” he says quietly.

“No it isn’t. All I wanted was to show you how I feel. I just wanted you to know how much I…”

“How much you what?” His tone is soothing and even, nonjudgmental. I hate myself for always being the one that needs to be pacified. It only shows how childish and undesirable I am.

“I can’t explain it. The way you make me feel…it frightens me. But I want you to feel the same.”

“I do feel the same way.”

“How can you be sure?”

He pauses. “Everyone feels that way. It’s perfectly human. You don’t need to fear it.” He pulls my chemise further down my thighs, covering me up. “But I understand why you do.”

I uncover my face. “Good, then can you tell me? I’m so confused.”

Kartik sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. “It’s a difficult predicament we’re in, love.” He slowly buttons his shirt. “I’m not the sort of fellow you could bring home to your family, or be seen with in public. They’d see me only as an Indian.” He reaches and cups my cheek tenderly. “But you don’t see me that way.”

“I don’t. You’re so much more,” I agree.

A sigh escapes his lips as he gazes towards the ceiling. “But everyone else does. You’re afraid to be the only one who sees the truth.”

“I wish I wasn’t the only one who sees the truth,” I correct.

He gives me a sweet smile. “And therein lies my hope.” He reaches for one of his boots. “But if there is anyone who can open their eyes, it’s you.”

I sit up and place a hand on his knee. “Someday…” I trail off, my vocabulary failing me once more.

His eyes search my face and soften, giving me that tender look he reserves only for me. “Someday, you will have all the answers.” His voice drops to the faintest of whispers. “But I cannot find them for you.”

Kartik stands and straightens out his rumpled clothing. “I suppose I should be heading off then.” He casts me a sympathetic smile.

“I’m sorry, Kartik,” I say, still humiliated.

“For what?”

“For being so immature, so cowardly.”

He smiles beautifully. “I think it was very brave of you to realize you weren’t ready. Many would not have that strength.”

I smile to myself as he secures his cloak around his neck.

“Kartik, wait!” I say before he can disappear through the window.

“Yes?”

“What is it called? That feeling…”

He looks off across the rolling lawns of Spence, a knowing smile forming on his lips. “Well…some may call it passion, or lust, but those are empty sorts of emotions. I suppose the closest word…may be love.”

“Love,” I repeat. My body fills with the meaning of the word. His dark eyes find mine again, and a spark seems to flow between us.

Kartik grins. “Goodnight, Gemma.” He reaches for the rope nestled in the ivy and drops from sight.

“Wait!” I cry again, hurrying towards the window. I am like a shaken bottle of champagne, bubbling and fizzing and threatening to explode. I lean over the sill and peer into the darkness. Kartik pauses, still bracing his weight against the stone wall. I bend further and give him one final kiss for the night.

“So dear I love him that with him, all deaths I could endure. Without him, live no life,” I recite softly.

His eyes mist over slightly. I am increasingly aware of the crickets, striking up their band once more. “Then we shall live together,” he whispers. One more kiss passes our lips.

“Good night,” I sing as he quietly climbs down to meet the night.

Blah. I think there's some meaning in there somewhere. Gemma recites from (EDIT!! Thank ThreeOranges!) John Milton's Paradise Lost. Not Romeo and Juliet. The internet lied to me, but you can still imagine Gem and Kartik's positions to be similar to R and J's Anyway, the quote. Appropriate, as she says that Kartik makes her feel alive. Hmmm. By the way, when Kartik says, "Then we shall live together." he doesn't mean living in a house or something, he means like, to live life to the fullest. Not sure if that's a hazy part, but just to clear things up...

Still resisting the urge to dye her hair red,
LunaEquus

Please review, not that I need to ask, really, because Karma romance is the most successful thing on here! Let's see some bloodbaths, man!