|
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
|||||||
Pull
I can still feel the coldness of the floor along my skin, and the thrill and fear and awkwardness of it all. I remember the rush I felt and the way my flesh seemed too hot. She said my name and I felt the word slide over my skin like silk. I loved the way she spoke, she had a rich deep voice, like chocolate, it whispered eroticism, and hinted at darker things that only the night ever saw. There was fear there, and maybe a touch of obsession. And there was danger. Always that sense of danger. I could not help but be drawn to it.
She was the one I was always afraid of. They say a person will look through you. She looked in. She had a way of never letting me forget the things she saw in me without saying a word. I think she took pleasure in that, silence meaning more then words because we were a shameful secret she couldn't bare to voice. I can't ever be sure, she had this way of telling me everything at once and nothing at all.
The first time it happened was in an array of urgency. We were both afraid of slowing down, having time to think of reasons it shouldn't happen. We were both on an adrenaline rush, and full of pent up emotion that needed out. The tension that had been growing between us for years snapped the moment we were alone.
They had taken that girl and Heero away. I was left alone and cold on the ground; still alive and still hungry for that feeling that would make me want to live. There was an icy feeling in my chest, like there was a frozen field where my heart should have been. I was aware of her eyes on me, intense and looking for any sign of what to do. I remember meeting her stare across the battered bunker, illuminated by that one glowing screen. Her heavy brown eyes took me up and held me there. She said one word: "Relena."
It was the question, offer and answer all in one. It screamed everything that had been ignored from the moment I saw her when I was a girl and still left me a way out. The need to accept and take what she promised to give was greater then any pain I had ever felt before. Countless emotions I had not let myself feel in an age sprung to the surface; anger, relief, lust, passion, guilt, it all erupted and threaten to drown me in it's rawness. I needed her. There was no room for doubting or lying to myself.
From the floor I raised my soiled hand and reached out into the darkness. I had one thing to say to her; "Une." It left my mouth like a forbidden curse, or prayer. It felt soft on my lips, and sweetly foreign. The sound and feel of that simple name made my tongue tingle and breath quicken. I watched her eyes widen a bit then focus on my out stretched palm. I remember thinking that I didn't recognize my own white and slender fingers. They were so unlike the hands of my blind youth. Those has been small and, awkward, yet flawless. The hand held out like an offering to the beautiful blackness was stained with soot and the blood a few small cuts. She took it anyway, the darker tones of her calloused hand weaving into mine. The feel her gentle grip made me want to faint and burst with energy at the same time. There was no time to think of why not, why it was undoubtedly wrong, and how ironic it all was. The past was lost to me and the future meant nothing at all.
We tugged at eathother's clothes, and held and touched. Clumsy and unsure, but fueled by the hunger to get closer. It wasn't as fluid and glamorous as the romance books would have you think. This was simple wanton and passion. We were hurried and lost in eachothers flesh, more then a little dazed, but by then sense had abandoned us. In that stolen moment of taboo lust, I tried to have every bit of her I could. I kissed and traced every bit of tan skin I could reach. Her skin was much smoother then I had imagined. Feeling her out was like pushing my hands over a silk covered statue. War had made her body hard, but she was warm, and the feel of her was smooth, like heated honey. Compared to my own soft body, I was in awe of her.
Sprawled on our clothes and alone in the nearly destroyed bunker, her hands moved everywhere, and I could only clutch her shoulders as pleasure claimed me. In between breathless kisses and moans, I had at one point managed to change our roles. I had always known she was a stunning woman when she abandoned her formalities and let the stone walls drop. I had never known just how utterly beautiful Une was. Flawless dark coloring and curves, shadowed with mahogany hair met me. I bent down to kiss a copper goddess brought to life. She tasted like nothing I had tried before. Sweet and salty at once. I wasn't aware of how it was supposed to work between women, but we must have been doing something right. My body moved instinctively, and she moved with me. Maybe it was the combination of our kissing, the way hands met flesh, and the heat that grew with each touch that brought her to passion's high. I watched her back arch up and her head fall back in the most fascinating way, the flesh of her throat open to me. I remember pressing my lips to that sensitive flesh and feeling the vibrations of her moans pass through them. The sultry sound of her voice dazzled me.
She shook and I held her as tightly as I could. I can still feel the way her arms moved about me, pushing the cold of the ground away. I lay my face in her shoulder, very much afraid of what I felt and what I would feel afterwards. I couldn't be ashamed, but I would never be able to share it with anyone. The guilt was a horrible contrast to the comfort I found while her hands combed out my hair. What would my sweet foster father think if he knew I had loved with the woman that killed him? My mind told me that this was not the same woman. There was but an echo that that unfeeling Lady in the person that was holding on to me just as tightly.