You smiled, and then the spell was cast
And here we are in heaven
And you are mine at last
-At Last by Etta James
Chapter 5 - At Last
You stare at your joined hands for another few seconds, just swimming in the heat that is radiating between you, heat you didn't even think you'd been missing until now. As your gaze travels up her arm, across her collarbone and neck, you can feel the heat spreading through those same parts of your body until your eyes reach her face.
You follow the progress of his gaze with your own eyes, desperate for the moment when your eyes meet his. From your hand clasped over his, the connection that is generating enough heat to warm all of Princeton for the next ten winters, up your arm, slowly across your collarbone and neck until he reaches your face.
You knew this, if it ever happened, this would be something unlike anything with anyone that you'd ever … but you hadn't even begun to imagine. Your pulse hasn't thundered in your ears nor your heart pounded in your chest like this since the last time you took an amphetamine. From the fact that only your hands are touching, you deduce this is going to be bigger than everything else before it, and probably everything after.
You knew this, when it finally happened, this would be the most intense, the most everything you'd ever … but you hadn't even begun to imagine. Your skin is crawling, physically twitching with desire to be near him in reaction to just his look. From the way the flesh of your palm and fingers feel about as normal to you as would a glove of molten lava, you begin to realize the sheer magnitude of what is about to come.
You've been so afraid that you wouldn't measure up. And that nothing afterwards would ever measure up again. You've denied yourself hope because you've feared that this, that she, would pale everything else.
You are going to measure any other experience, not any other man, because after this there may never be another man, but any other anything against these moments. Everything from now may pale in comparison.
You don't care.
You're willing to admit you were wrong.
Any future lackluster event is worth it.
This is worth it.
He's worth it.
Your lips are smoldering, not enough space existing to allow in the oxygen to ignite a flame. You can feel hands tangling in your hair. It's slightly rough and a little frantic. Or maybe not, considering you think you might have just popped off a few buttons. All you really know, or care about, is this time it isn't a dream. This time it's real.
You manage to pry your lips apart long enough for the flurry of wrinkled cotton to fly. Your chests are pressing together and ohmygod. Your nipples are hard as rocks, and every little movement is targeting the pleasure center of your brain with a jolt of sensory input that is sure to overload any rational sense you might have left.
You start moving; walking, you realize. You stumble and collide with walls and the odd piece of furniture. You have just enough thought left to wonder if you look as bad as those scenes in movies where the two lovers trip over each other in their haste to get to the bedroom. Then you think maybe you only thought they looked bad because it had been so long since you'd really wanted to hasten your approach to the bedroom with anyone.
You collapse onto the bed and you're not thinking anymore. All you can do is feel.
Hands everywhere. Hot breath in your ear, on your neck. Scratching nails and clutching fingers. Slick skin, sliding and rubbing with beautiful friction. Hungry mouths, slippery tongues and tentative teeth.
Sometimes rough, sometimes soft. Instants where time seems to stop completely and then instants where you have no sense of time at all. Heat, sweat, moans, sighs, even tears.
Ignorance isn't bliss.
You don't want this to end, ever, but every fiber in you is begging for that sweet release. You need it, but you hold it off as long as you can. Its torture, but you'd gladly do it all over again. And again.
You can. This is real now. It's not a dream you will wake up from in a hot and frustrated sweat. You can do it again tomorrow, next week, in twenty minutes if things go well.
You give in. The earth doesn't move, the ground doesn't shake, the angels don't weep. But if they did, you wouldn't know. Your climax is so complete, it isn't even purely physical. It's an end not just to this act, but to your inertia, your paralysis. You have collided, and the momentum has carried you here. To this time and this place where you have fused with another person, someone you love.
You lie there afterwards, the sweat drying from your skin making you cold. You're too deliciously tired to care. You only register the cool in the room as an automatic response, the same way you're aware your breathing slows and your heart beats instead of pounds.
You turn your head on the pillow and smile at the most beautiful face you've ever seen.
"It's about damn time."
I love you too.
A/N: Okay folks, so that's it. Thank you all for your very kind comments throughout this series.