The Gentle Touches

It’s Valentine’s Day.

Perhaps in their secluded world of dreams it is too?

I won’t apologize for the length here. The tale is about romance, the sweetness that follows and precedes the dance of love.

Inspired by a certain pair of hands, the never ending snows and the beat of a lonely heart, don’t judge me too harshly. I love too deeply, too naively, too completely.

Besides, it is, as always, only fantasy. And no one will ever see this but me.

Suggested song: What else for Valentine’s Day?  The Power of Love by Jennifer Rush

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In the early morning hours, creeping as quietly as she can, she makes her way through the snowy gloom darkening the windows that surround the room.  Standing next to the bed where he lays, silently, she plucks his discarded shirt from the floor and slips it on to cover her bare form, rolling up the long sleeves and loosely doing up a few of the buttons along the front.  Smiling, she wraps her arms around herself, closing her eyes and inhaling the gentle, soapy smell of him that surrounds her in the soft material.

As the snows fall softly beyond the windows in a swirling, silent, musical dance, she watches him as he sleeps, so peacefully unaware that she stands nearby. Unaware. Abandoned to his dreams. Held in the arms of the sheets and pillows still warm with her memory.

She smiles to see him so easily laid out. He is stretched gloriously supine across the bed, his head resting comfortably  and unapologetically against her own pillow, one arm laying where her form rested only a short time ago.  The other arm is spread out, as though he is reaching for her where she stands, his hand gracefully hanging unsupported by the mattress.  She realizes suddenly just how long and elegant his arms are, reaching nearly from one end of the bed to the other.  She smiles remembering how perfectly those beautiful limbs always wrap her in his embrace, drawing her close, surrounding her with his love.  But she loves him, and to think he may know any discomfort, no matter how small the degree, wounds her heart, and so she draws near the bed and very carefully takes up that hand, leaving a very soft kiss against the palm and the inside of his wrist before laying it gently and comfortably on the mattress.

Ah, sweet torture!  To leave that pretty hand where it now rests, her eyes are drawn to the rest of his form, so innocently displayed to the cool room. His legs spread comfortably across the mattress, one slightly bent, peeking from beneath the sheet, displaying that beautiful, perfect thigh, sculpted calf and naked foot. The other tucked warmly underneath the sheet, hidden from her view.

She can choose to cover him properly… lifting the light sheet up over his heart, tucking away the one exposed leg with its sweet, powerful thigh, strong calf and the delicate, bare foot that extend from the tousled covers.  But he seems so at ease, comfortable and restful in his sleep.  And he is so very warm… so warm…

Instead, she shakes her head and smiles as she lets her gaze wander over each rib to the rise and fall of his bared chest, following the rhythm of every pretty breath he releases in silent sighs that float along the pillows and sheets cradling him.  She very much enjoys his bare shoulders, blushing in her weakness for them… and lets herself watch the flutter of his eyelashes as he lays, sweetly dreaming, the full pout of his slightly parted lips whispering every precious breath… his soft, soft, silver hair against the pillow, the smoothness of his cheek, flushed with sleep, slightly turned away from her.

Suddenly, wanting nothing more than to return to her place beside him, to rest her head against his shoulder and wrap her arms around him, she takes a hesitant step towards the bed, but stops once more, not wanting to pull him from his gentle slumber.

She contents herself with reaching a tentative hand to very lightly stroke his hair, his cheek, the shoulder that is closest to her.  Leaning close, she makes certain her hair does not brush him as she leaves a soft kiss against his cheek and another on his shoulder.  Drawing back, her eyes study him once more and she cannot resist the temptation of that one, seductive thigh that is exposed, ready to be touched. Letting the very tips of her fingers trace a soft line along the length she feels him shiver slightly.  Smiling, she bends and leaves a trio of kisses along the warm skin. My love. My heart. My joy.

He stirs slightly as she takes another step away from where he lays and she stops, not wanting to wake him, wondering if he is aware of her presence.  But he only breathes a deep sigh and continues his pretty slumber.  Satisfied, she withdraws once more, making her way across the warm, wooden floor to the windows to watch the swirling snowstorm in silence.

She does not see his confusion when he awakens some moments later and finds her missing from his side.  His arms reach languidly across the bed for her, his heart skipping quickly for a beat or two until, opening his eyes, he finds her standing stoically silent at the windows, not far from the bed, watching the swirl of falling snows that floats down to cover the world beyond them.  Drawing a deep sigh of relief, he studies her for long moments where she stands clad only in his own shirt, cast off in the play of their passion the night before. He follows the line from her daintily bare feet, along her calves and up over the curve of her hips, just hidden by the light material of the shirt.

The hair he had so carelessly loosed the night before, his greedy fingers anxious to comb through the silken threads, she had once more expertly woven into a neat plait.  Smiling, he imagines undoing it once again as he holds her breathlessly against him.

As he watches, she stands up on those deliciously bare toes, one hand balancing against the frozen glass as she peers down at something along the shore.  Unable to resist her any longer, he casts away the rumpled sheets and comes to join her at the window, barefoot, wearing only the loose boxers he prefers.  Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around her waist and draws her close against him, quietly whispering her name at her ear, stealing a kiss against her cheek before pressing his own against her temple.

She shivers, whether with his kiss or the cold emanating from the window and he holds her closer against him, seeking to share his warmth with her.  Certain she can feel the beat of his heart against her back now and how it beats wildly as her arms cover his own, he catches the reflection of her smile in the window and returns it with a light kiss at her temple.  As they watch the snowstorm in silence, he is keenly aware of each breath she draws and the warmth of her form pressed against his own.  With him.  In his arms.

She moves her hands to cover his and draws one slowly away from where it rests comfortably against her hip. She holds it lovingly in both her own, caressing the smooth back and tracing a lost pattern in the palm with her fingertip before lifting it to her lips. Closing her eyes, she presses a soft kiss to the palm and a flutter of kisses along the tip of each finger and at the inside of his wrist before turning it to leave another trio of kisses on the back. My love. My heart. My joy.

For long moments, they stand together in silence, needing no words as they watch the dancing snows pile up on the balcony rail outside. At last, he can wait no longer and turns her away from the brilliance of the sun rising through the flurry of snowflakes to face him.  How soft her hair is as he gently smooths it before drawing her lips to his own in an endless kiss.  Distracting her with his kisses, his hands move effortlessly down the tiny buttons of the shirt, carefully undoing each one until his hands rest at her waist once more.  Easily slipping his fingers along her skin, he slides them beneath the light fabric, drawing it aside, finding her back, pulling her close against him until he feels the fluttering beat of her heart beneath her breast pressed against his chest. Smiling, he takes back his shirt, running warm hands up and over her skin, slipping the soft fabric over her arms, letting it flutter to the floor as he bends his head to leave heated kisses along her throat and shoulders. His arms close around her and he draws her to him again, warming her with his kisses and the press of his heat to her cool skin, delighting in the softness of her. Practiced fingertips lace through her hair, once more undoing the neat plait, freeing the strands for his hands to gently comb through.

He feels no guilt now in taking her hands in his and leading her back to their bed with a smile. He begins to lift her, but she stays his action with a soft press of her hand to his chest. Smiling, she guides him back to the rumpled sheets, laying him against the pillows instead, covering him with her soft form. He laughs softly and loses his fingers in her hair before caressing her cheek, a questioning smile on his lips as he wonders quietly at her choice. But she only smiles and finds his lips in a deep kiss, her hands resting on his shoulders, her hair falling around them like a curtain. His arms close around her, lost in their kisses as her hands move silently along his skin, slipping down over his chest.

Breaking away from his lips, she leaves meandering lines of kisses along his throat, his collar bones and over his shoulders. Sighing, he smooths her cheek as she blesses the expanse of his chest with those same kisses, wandering lower and lower, her cool hands tracing the intimate trails her burning lips follow. When she arrives at his navel, she pauses, raises her eyes to his and watches his eyes as she teases the precious indentation first with the tip of her tongue, then a bevy of light kisses. His eyes grow wide with the soft pleasure, then he laughs quietly at her mischievous gesture.

Smiling, she continues her line of kisses, her hands easily drawing away the last bit of material that covers him. He sighs softly, giving in to the sweet torture of her cool, wandering touch quickly heated by her lips raining soft kisses over his hips, along each thigh and over his knees, even teasing each delicate toe and the soles of his feet before she makes her way slowly back along his form, stopping to leave light kisses on the way, finally covering the most intimate part of him with a delicate rain of light touches and soft kisses. Gasping softly, he whispers her name in a quiet plea and reaches to comb trembling fingers through her hair and cup her cheek, drawing her gaze to his.

Drawing even with him at last, she smiles and stares into his eyes as he reaches to tuck her hair lovingly behind each ear before pulling her lips to his in a soft, desperate kiss. Once more she covers his form with her own, settling each leg comfortably around his hips and thighs, balancing elegantly on her knees. Again, he raises a questioning eyebrow at her desire and smiles when she nods and lightly kisses his lips. Her eyes meet his once more as his hands slip smoothly to her hips, gently guiding her, marrying their forms with a lost moan. Smiling, she reaches for his hands, linking her fingers with his, bringing his arms back to rest against the sheets and pillows beneath them, dancing slowly with him this familiar, intimate dance.

As the snowflakes swirl around them beyond the windows that blanket the room, they move together, her hands clasped firmly in his, their lips teasing kisses from each other, his voice whispering her name, woven in quiet threads of song, her whisper sighing his name until they fall together beneath the music of love’s ultimate bliss. His voice calls out her name in pleasure as she breathes her own in the gasp of his name against his lips.

At last, she releases his hands, allowing him to wrap his arms around her, pulling her fully against him, delighting in the skipping beat of her heart against his, his hands cradling her shoulders, holding her as close against him as he can, their limbs still gracefully entwined. She clings tightly to him, her arms wrapped around him, her head tucked snuggly against his shoulder, shivering in the sweet pleasure of their love. He whispers pretty words at her ear and covers her flushed and burning cheeks in kisses that find their way languidly to her throat and back again to her lips. 

Her eyes look deeply into the twin pools of his and she very lightly runs her hand along his cheek, and up to play gently in his hair, smiling dreamily in his arms. Very softly, she kisses his brow, his lips and finally bends her head to leave a long, tender kiss above his heart. My love. My heart. My joy.  Satisfied at last, she snuggles down against him, her head resting against his shoulder, her body alongside his, her leg tucked neatly between his two, her hand resting on his heartbeat.

Knowing the room is cool around them, he pulls the light sheet over his lady where she serves as his own blanket, his one leg still free from the covers.  He sings quietly to her as she lays, beautifully blushing and breathless in his arms again, the sigh of his name on her lips. Slowly, she falls into the arms of her dreams and he follows the even breaths of her sleep, feeling the slowing of her heart against him. With him. In his arms.

As she sleeps, unaware of his curious love, he touches her cheek, lightly and very gently stroking the cool, silken skin along her arm, or carefully smoothing her hair… as if in a vain effort to convince himself with these quiet touches that she is really there.  With him.  In his arms.

But her soft warmth affirms his wish.  And the quiet sound of each breath she takes, drawn in relative silence and released again to float lightly across his chest, reminds him that she is alive, not a mere figment of his imagination.  The light press of her hand above his heart and the heat of her tender cheek pressed against his skin gives him every confidence that she is indeed real.

With him.  In his arms.

My love. My heart. My joy.

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