#27: Love, hate and the like
Silver Millennium Period
In the dim recesses of her sensibility, she realized that she was drunk. Yet those same abysses of common sense told her she had not touched Zoisite's ruby liquor-the "poison" tranquil in its crystal decanter-all night. It was a different kind of intoxication, a type that flung her into dark, shadowed corners where inhibition and self-control could not breathe. It roared through her blood vessels, seeped into her mind. She had been freed from a prison and with that freedom came the frightened rush a caged bird feels when it is released into an eternal forest.
A hand pressed at the nape of her neck, burning and hard, forcing her to tilt her head back. Another hand roamed underneath the folds of her gown, feeling for the warm skin of her upper thigh. Her body was flaming, alight with desire and she unhesitantly hooked a knee around one of his slim hips.
Somehow, one of them, both of them, lost their balance and they were sent tumbling onto the bed.
Briefly, she cut off the kisses of his ministering lips to gasp out a small laugh. Her eyes opened to meet his, and she was startled by a lost look in his green eyes.
"What is it?" she asked in a soft voice.
His eyes widened at the realization that she could vaguely read his thoughts. "I...don't know."
Those looks came like swift pulses when he thought she wasn't looking and usually vanished in an instant. But they seemed to cross his face more and more ever since he and the Shitennou had begun going on mysterious delegations around the Moon...
She gently smoothed his rumpled hair, bringing her hand to his cheek. His eyes grew hard as he gazed at her flushed cheeks and pouting lips and in an instant, he had buried his face in her neck and blanketed it with kisses.
"I'm drowning, Amy," he murmured into her skin.
She was frightened by his expression when he pantingly lifted his head to look back at her, the clouded green meeting hers. "Then I'll save you," she told him.
Hours later, he rose from the bed and her eyes fluttered open at the movement. He remained seated beside her slender form, staring at the wall opposite. His dark profile cut through the dim Parisian lamplight that filtered through the curtains; he didn't appear to realize she'd woken up. She could just make out a grim smile on his face as he whispered, "Or maybe I need to be saved from you."