For #30 - kiss
There was something so inherently simple in a kiss: some strange intrinsic value that couldn't be found in any other act. There was some sort of strange gratification in it that could hold it's own against even the most intimate of moments. It was as if a part of the soul reached out, through breath and life, to search for the soul to which it was coupled.
It was one of the better ways to pass a lazy afternoon, a rainy morning in doors, or a late night under the sky. It was the best wake-up call, and the most preferable bedtime send-off. It made for a good appetizer before dinner, and an even better dessert afterwards. It was able to sate thirst and it filled the gnawing emptiness of hunger better than any meal ever could.
Kissing warped time – minutes into hours - and space – one body where there had been two - and played with the senses. Passing glances found glazed eyes and swollen lips that mirrored their own before lids closed and mouths melded together again. Hands and fingers danced across shoulders and backs, over spinal cords and hipbones and kneecaps, eliciting groans and sighs – small, content noises that moved from mouth to mouth, felt rather than heard. The space between them vanished until one body was all the other could touch and taste and hear until it was no longer kissing: it was love.
Fear, doubt, aggression, and anger: these things fled in love's path; and courage, faith, hope, and honor traveled in its wake. He knew these things as he knew the sunrise: it simply was, and it went on whether he willed it or not.
There was so much of it that sometimes it overwhelmed him, but that feeling of drowning – being in too deep – was nothing against the deep, throbbing ache that being apart created. It was like hitting the ground - air left the lungs, the heart jolted and stopped – and nothing was right again until they were together: until he could kiss her.
A quiet voice interrupts his reverie, asks what he's thinking about.
He tells her the truth, because even though he knows his devotion overwhelms her – like her trust overwhelms him – he loves her too much to say it's nothing. It's everything: everything he has, everything he wants, and everything he needs.
She gives him a look that is half happiness; half adoration – though he can see the child in her shrinking from the power of his emotions – then lays herself across his chest.
When she kisses him, the world begins to fade.
AN: Well, that's that. It's done. No more 30kisses. I can't say I'm sad, because I'm really glad to haev this monkey off my back, but I suppose a part of me weeps to see it go. I want to extend my gratitude to the many people who reviewed. It's because of y'all that I churned 'em out this fast. Really, I couldn't have done it without you!