Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Desire ❯ Prefazione ( Prologue )

Desire

The torchlight outside the dojo was tapering to an end. The moon, reluctant to give itself to the sun, was glowing feebly and gave itself an ethereal glow. The light, the only light that truly emanated was from the pinpoints of gold in the man's eyes. He was staring at the sleeping woman beside him. She was exquisite to him, most delicate, especially in her slumbering form. All her secrets have been revealed to him, arousing his protective streak and possessive nature. It was just as well that she brushes it off as his husbandly affections because if she truly knew the primal instinct he harbors for her, she would be entirely apprehensive.

He continued to look at her, smiling occasionally at her soft snoring. Propped on an elbow, he leaned his face close to hers, never touching, only there to feel her warm breath on his face. He inhaled her scent and held it there, so reluctant to give up anything that belonged to her. His hands loomed above her frame; again, never touching, only there to guarantee that her presence is real; that this wasn't destiny's game. Everything about her is warm, he noted, warm sweet breath, warm flesh and liquid heat. And she complains of ever being cold, he chuckles to himself.

He settled back into his pillows and let his gaze drift to their surroundings. Hastily thrown clothing, linen and silks gathered around them and formed a protective nest. Recollections of their earlier activities flooded his mind and his body tightened in reaction. Images of midnight, silk and grace coursed through his mind. His contemplation in a haze, he thought he couldn't breathe, or he was drowning.

The sun defeated the moon. Early birds twittered shallowly and the air smelled of morning dew. He wondered what the next hour would be like after she had awoken. Would he entice her out of sleep himself, or would she wake with thoughts of him and their bed?

Shaking off such thoughts for a while, he allowed himself to inhale. He had been lying awake, watching her, thinking of her but he couldn't bring himself to touch her. His palms itched to skim her skin, his lips burned for hers, and yet why? A part of him wants to take her and devour her, taking her as he is allowed to but a part of him fears that once he tasted that freedom, he wouldn't be able to stop.

Once he came close to such freedom and it joyed him to no end. Guiltily, he admitted that to himself. One night when the air was wonderfully light and heady, the sight of her brushing her hair awed and comforted him. She wore his gi that night and one sleeve plopped over her shoulder, giving away gossamer skin. How he reacted after he saw that, he didn't want to remember. I bet Battousai had a great time… not like the rurouni didn't but…

He squeezed his eyes shut and pretended to sleep when the beloved bundle moved about in her sleep. Raven waterfall caused a silken glide to caress his arms and made him shiver in heat. The number of times he had heard her speak so gloriously about his abundant hair when all the while it was hers that entices him to sink in them. He could never understand how they could be nearly obsessed with each other and not combust. It must be the mystery of the century.

It must be the law of gravity. The emotions spiral into each other, but instead of neutralizing, it fuels the passion. There were days when he feels the flame burning, greater than the embers of Kyoto or the venom of the wolf. Could he take her, make her forget about everything except him? His darkest wish was to see her see only him, the world burning in its wake. Her kisses and grace hinted that she is giving him permission to do so, but he is afraid that once the floodgates have been opened, the only thing left for him is to give and for her is to take.

They were in a dance, in a dazed tango where the only language is their body, the music their blood and the dance floor the sheet. Separation is sweet torture and connection even more so. He had worked himself to such mad desperation over something he already has but couldn't possess so completely.

And that drove him mad with desire.

Oh, the agony of being a messenger. I am only a scribe. And scribe I shall.