Author's Notes: Here is the sequel to 'Reckless Freedom'. I am forever indebted to those who reviewed! Hope you'd enjoy this one as well. Rated PG-13 for implied, but not necessarily stated, actions. Really short, I tell ya ;)
The silence was almost unbearable to bear. The stillness seemed to breathe all around them, its feet making thunderous steps as it stirred silent echoes. They both lay in the bed, sated, satisfied, sullen. Each seemed lost in his or her thoughts, each too tired or wise enough to dare not break the mood that settled between them. Hadn't they, mere moments ago, cried and moaned and screamed their pleasure, their release? Hadn't the sound of their ragged breathing, their tortured groans, their whispered desires filled the room in its entirety? Hadn't they basked in the love that they had formed, as they laid there, lost in the entanglement of limbs, lost in the declaration of their fervent and arduous love? Why the sudden unbreakable silence, then?
And now, before fate can murmur her answer, there finally came the whisper of movements as he pulled her closer to him, his body's heat mingling with hers, creating warmth that could only be produced after the moment's union. She was limp against his body, spent; she had used most of her energy trying to keep up with him as he threw them both in the throes of passion so high and so deep. She was spent, but never unresponsive; immediately, shivers danced on her skin as his hand gently retraced the path he had created before, as his hand touched her once more, from the strand of one, lone hair down to the area just above her hip. It was a touch so gentle and so sweet, and at the same time so… possessive, so… consuming. It was a touch that made her tingle, that made her feel cherished, wanted… desired. Suddenly it was all too much, and still not enough.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, savoring the scent in the air, scents that seemed to tell of the games they'd played on this bed. She enjoyed the feeling of his hand as it ascended over her body once more, and she sighed; the sound so small and soft yet never insubstantial. He heard it, that sound of contentment… and he smiled, the expression on his face unseen, as he stared over something at the wall, his own thoughts consumed with remembering and imbedding in his memory the moment this happened, the moment they fell… the moment they succumbed into the temptation of falling into bed together, and never falling out of it again. It was a frightening, yet delicious feeling, of caring not about the consequences, of damning everything and everyone. The feeling of freedom, the feeling of power derived from making this decision, was perilously intoxicating, so dangerously addicting. It was reckless, it was impulsive, it was irresponsible, but weren't those words an apt description of his personality, his being? He tightened his hold around her waist, one hand coming to rest almost on her navel, over her smooth, slick waist. Yes, this might as well be a dreadful mistake, but since when did mistakes come with such delicious sensations? She snuggled closer, and it if was possible she would have melded into him as she sought to move closer to him still. Yet he didn't mind, in fact he reveled at the feeling of skin to skin, body to body. The feeling of it was seduction in its own, an enticement in its entirety, a temptation far too tempting to ignore. Hadn't he wondered what this would feel like? Holding her this close to him after he spent an eternity showing her how much he adored her? Hadn't he often wondered how it would feel to worship her body, shower it with caresses, make it tingle with whispered kisses and muted breaths?
She kept her eyes closed, fully intending to fall into arms as blissful as those holding her now. Yet she remained awake, her body uncooperative, unheeding of her plans to fall into slumber. Sleep was a millennia away, and though tired, it wasn't enough a condition for her mind to completely shut itself off. It was busy, far too busy, trying to relive the past hours, trying to sear the memories in her brain. As if she was bound to forget this incident, she thought wickedly. A smile also played over her own lips, an act that made her face softer, quieter. At peace. There she was, basking in the afterglow of the event… the one pivotal event that could change their lives forever. Wasn't this what they both avoided, yet yearned for? She opened her eyes and gasped audibly, as his wandering hand stopped at the spot over her heart… she wondered faintly, can he feel how fast it beats, it flutters? How it dances at his touch? Moving her body, twisting it, she reached out her hand and placed it on his cheek. His own eyes were closed, as he savored the feeling of life stirring underneath his palm, as he savored the intimate contact. He released his own sigh, and then opened his eyes. He reveled in the sight of beautiful brown orbs quietly studying him, looking at him as though he was the only man to ever grace the earth with his presence. She held his gaze, trapping the intensity of his moonlit eyes. He had no intention of releasing hers either.
Despite everything, despite the confidence, the daring, despite the assurance that this was right, that this was true… questions still lingered in both their eyes, questions about this, about what happened, about what will happen after it all… Should they allow this to ever occur again? It was beautiful, the perfect moment of union, and yet –
Then he lowered his face, and caught her lips, which yielded immediately, for once asserting that they acknowledge his dominance over her. It was quite a feeling of triumph that surged over him, that she was acquiescent, and his body gloried in it. His only quest, when he kissed her, was to erase the doubts that darkened her lovely eyes, but soon this quest was forgotten, immediately diminished as he indulged himself in reacquainting, in reintroducing his body with her own. Soon his hands, his lips, his tongue, was everywhere at once, making her squirm, making her feel as wild and as fiery as she was making him feel.
She received the kiss with equal, raw passion, with equal, raw hunger. It was her own way of telling him that in this, they were equals, that in this, it was of no importance that her blood was tainted, or that his blood was pure. As she returned his intense touches with inquisitive ones of her own, as she gave him back all his kisses, his tastes, it was to declare that he needs her as much as she needs him, that she owns him as much as he owns her. Then soon after, these thoughts of hers, these intentions suddenly became unimportant. He was loving her, driving her over the edge, making it difficult for her to form coherent sentences, to form words that actually made sense. At those moments, he was the only thing that made sense, the only man that was ever important.
And soon sounds once again erupted into the night, sounds of pleasure and desire driving away the cloak of stillness that briefly hovered over them. The questions remained unasked, the questions remained unanswered, but no matter. Tonight was a time to dance the wicked dance of passion, and they'll both be damned to be the one to ruin it all.