Soft Rain by patricia51
(The characters are not mine. They are the creation of Amy Sherman-Palladino and belong to the WB and the CW.)
It's raining.
I can feel the fine droplets on my skin. They're cool but not cold. The wind that whips her hair around is warm. All this and her in front of me makes me feel wonderful.
The drops are a bit heavier now. I can see them in her hair like shinning little diamonds. The dim light that comes from the corner of the building is supposed to light the entrance. It doesn't do that very well but it makes her hair glow like a golden halo.
Of course maybe there should be horns poking through that halo. I've never heard of an angel with such sparkling eyes, full of invitation and desire. Angels don't have such perfect lips; full, slightly parted and curved in an impish grin. But they should. My angel does.
Now the rain is steady, but its still soft and splashes on to us like gentle caresses. She takes my hands and dances around in sheer joy, her head back and eyes open to the sky. Then her fingers slip from mine and she lifts her arms to the night clouds, welcoming the sweet rain falling on her.
I watch her. My eyes can never get enough of her. Who would have thought we would one day be in this place, in this position? Who would have known we would fall in love?
The rain has plastered her clothes to her, clinging to the generous curves of her full body. Her skirt is plastered to her legs, her blouse nearly transparent now. She reached down and plucks her shoes from her feet. Holding them in one hand she dances on her tiptoes through the wet grass.
Far away there is a distant rumble. She spins on her toes, grabs my hand and we run to the shelter of the entrance portico. Breathless, we squeeze together under the meager shelter the entrance offers. There's barely room for one but we fit together so well that the steadily falling rain only brushes against our legs.
She looks at me with those dark beautiful eyes. I can see her nipples sticking through the soaked material of her blouse and bra. Her eyes follow my gaze and I hear her deep, rich chuckle.
"Don't you think of anything else?"
I catch her with one arm and pull her against me, kissing her. The kiss is deep and satisfying; her mouth as sweet as the very first time I ever kissed her. Her body molds to mine and I can feel the warmth of her through the wet clothes sticking to us both. She stiffens as my other hand finds her breast and my thumb tip brushes back and forth over the little hard nubbin that so caught my attention.
"I think of a lot of things," I whisper to her when we come up for air. "But some things catch my attention regardless of what I'm thinking. Or if I'm even thinking at all."
"What are you thinking right now," she asks, her face serious for a moment."
"I'm thinking how much I love you, Paris Gellar."
"I love you too."
The rain drums on the roof but who cares? We're together.
(The End)
(OHHHHHHHHHHH what a stinker I am! Who IS the other person? Is it Doyle? Asher Fleming? Tristan? Nope. of course it's none of these.)
(Epilogue)
"I love you too Rory Gilmore."
(The Real End)
(Happy now? I am)