Seven Drops of Rain

Wishing a super-duper best happy birthday to OntheTurningAway! This is YOUR day.
A few drabbles in your honor. We hope you enjoy.
–Love ICMezzo, Jasper, and Edward

Rated M. Contains slash. If that's not your thing, please don't read.

Thanks to TwilightMundi for her beta work on this and ArcadianMaggie for holding my hand.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns everything you recognize.

We stood it in the thick, dark, damp, green forest of Mt. Rainier. Mist threatened at the periphery of our vision, the smell of deep earth weighed heavily in our noses.

But it was just 'we.' There was no high school, no family, certainly no pretending, no disguises.

This day was ours.

Warm rain poured down, collecting on the limbs and leaves above and dripping heavily on us.

It did not matter. This day was ours.

I pushed his hair, dark from the water, off his face. It more or less obeyed.

I looked at him; he at me. Ours.


He peeled my soaked shirt away from my frozen skin and over my head; a move we'd rehearsed for decades.

He did not need to tell me how he felt; I didn't need to speak a word for him to hear.

We stood, wrapped in each other's arms, pressed against each other with a hunger that came with forever 20 and forever 17.

The rhythm of the rain urged us on, understanding the bigger picture, its role in our play.

His strong hands found my curls; mine, his waist, toward the jeans that sat drenched and low on his hips.


He did not need to tell me how he felt; I didn't need to speak a word for him to hear.

Droplets of water ran down his face, lucky to be so close.

I lightly kissed them away, envious of their path.

He pressed his mouth against mine. Hungry instead of thirsty.

I kissed him back, eager as always to feel his lips.

Passion: I felt it blooming between us, freshly watered and inviting growth.

He nodded at the words I could not say, rational thought beyond my grasp: love.

Slowly, luxuriously; time on our side.

This day was ours.


I undressed him.
I knelt before him.
I took him in my mouth.
I took his need in my hands.
I gave him everything I knew he desired.

I listened as his moans punctuated the song of the rain.
I listened while I worshiped him.
I listened to his sounds.
I listened.

I heard the crescendo of his cries and released him before it became too much. I rose to my feet, leaving my own clothes on the ground behind me.

Watery lips finding their glistening match. Again and always and forever.

Never needing to say a word.

Not anymore.


Warm, summer rain fell around us and on us.

It did not matter.

Liquid need.

We sank to the ground, the moss a willing pillow, its green bright against his bronze and ivory and gold-turned-black.

Tangled, twisting limbs. Tangled, twisting tongues.

He pressed against me, crying out at the contact when we touched.

I turned him so he lay face down. He arched to kiss me as I lay on top of him.

And kissed him back.

And then I moved, gently turning his hip, so I could begin to prepare him for what I knew he really wanted.



He did not need to tell me how he felt; I didn't need to speak a word for him to hear.

And so, I knew. And I pressed. And he opened to me. One we. For all time.

Rain ran down his back and mine, finding its path down to the floor, while I sought to take us up, up, and away.

And when I felt his need for more, I turned him, gently laying him on his back,

Carefully caring for we.

Again together, again one, again home.

Urgent kisses, desperate hands.

Panting. Moving. Stroking. Flying.

This was ours.


Hitched breaths of dark, damp air tinged with the scent of each other.

And then, the precipice.

Somehow we fall

Over the edge

While planted firmly on the ground.

And we cry out to the clouds, the sun and the universe, telling our story.

And when he came back to me, he did not need to tell me how he felt, yet he pulled me into his arms and whispered his words of love.

And I didn't need to speak a word for him to hear, but I said it anyway. "Happy birthday, my love. This is your day."