You're sitting down in the living room blocking out the world around you with a simple close of your eyes. But I know you're lying.

You can hear everything going on around you, enjoy the silence that came from your deception when those two turned off the movie and decided to go out for the afternoon. Our little girl climbed off your lap as gently as she could and your face-your lips-shifted just enough to reveal your sharp awareness. I've allowed it for this long and even kept my mind busy by clearing the sink of dishes that had began to form. I've grown tired of it now. I finally understand your need to bring me out of my occasional detachment of the world and beg you to open your eyes and focus on me, solely on mine, and have you remember that reality is filled with the emotions we created with our own wills and desires.

But you yourself make me wonder about how true my reality is.

The increased weight on your lap does not make you squirm like before. In fact, you seem to relax more with that gentle face of yours. I concern myself with your features that I have memorized long ago. A strong jawline, lightly tanned skin wrapped over it, the usual tautness of your face is more gentle now while inside whatever place I cannot yet reach. Your hair dances closes to the edge of your eyes and I resist the urge to brush it back. Your lips seem rosier than normal, that thought making me feel some kind of way.

You currently face in the Wind, covered in sunlight, warm to the touch and free of all boundaries. I decide to kiss that warm skin just under your chin and begin your decent. I still can't see your eyes back at mine so I go for the second best. That cream colored shirt is mostly unbuttoned by your earlier hand and I take advantage to taste your skin there too, carefully soaking up your light. You fidget, and I'm almost positive I saw a speck of green, and I continue innocent kisses down your chest. I feel your Wind better here, even the hitch when you realize how low I've gone. I'm normally patient but its growing too hot here and your eyes are still frustratingly closed and I've had enough.

There's a swell of flesh mostly hidden by your shirt. I start to tease it and you finally return to me at the feeling of a cool wetness.

Purposely I don't look at you. I want you to stare at what I'm doing, how I'm doing it, and realize what I'm doing to you. I want you to feel the waves lapping at your feet and hands. I want you to know the feeling before those waters overtake you. And honestly, I want your current reactions. The way your hands come up to my head, brushing my hair away in attempt to see. How you're trying so hard not to respond and failing by pushing the collar of your shirt over your shoulder to coax me onward. Your muscles tighten, your chest swells and deflates more erratically too. You're letting the water rise, aren't you? There's no sense of fear either. No emotion to the negative to warn me you aren't meant for the deeps of the Sea or that your heart belongs in the warm skies. I test it by sliding my hand lower. You reply with your first sound before your head slips underwater.

I can still taste the warmth of your skin and it feels warmer, like a prelude to something. I finally look at your face and feel my chest flutter at the notable darkness in your eyes. And I stumble for a moment when I realize you look so much better when bright and warm and free. My hand threatens to stop. My hand considers releasing you back. I can't hold you here.

But somehow you know my inner conflict. You light up that smile and pull me towards you, so close that my reality is colored with heavy blues and vibrant yellows and a mix somewhere in between. How funny that sight, an unstoppable sun trying to break into unyielding seas and creating a golden water that is only of mild temperature...

You try to kiss me and I won't allow it. Not yet. As close as we are, as comfortable as we are, we both know that I'm still mad at you. So I move and bring you along for the ride.

The unevenness of your breath returns quickly and little sounds of nonsense escape your mouth while you try to do anything to gain composure. Your hands are at my waist for a time, squeezing and searching, until it occurs to you to exploit the gap and begin touching me. I allow this but don't let you too far. Your eyes are darker, you hate it so much, but any sympathy I had for you is already back up at the surface. Your hand is slapped away in favor of my own removing my top and yours. I'm even claiming your skin again while you can do nothing but gasp at my backside and mewl for something you still can't voice properly.

It's so difficult ignoring the temperature change and I'm becoming sloppy. You kiss my neck and I return my hand where you want it most while your hot breath makes even me lose my composure. Your name falls onto you and I curse at myself for letting myself to lose the race first. My lips crash onto yours and you meet me just as strongly as you perhaps try to find your precious air to keep you going. The world flips around me and I become dizzy at the feeling of you on top of me and realizing nothing between the two of us. You're moving against me (or maybe we're moving together-I just can't tell anymore) and I see sparks of color against the darkness of this place. Gold flickers in front of my eyes and I'm breathless as we surface. It's unbearingly hot now and not even your Wind cools me. It's doing nothing but pushing me along, fanning my sails, and I just can't stop even at the thought of you loosing control of yourself.

But maybe it was that thought that made my vision fail, and caused me to only feel nothing but you, as you launch me fully into the world we created.

When the world reorients I am the one opening my eyes to you. I'm perfectly content with you filling up my vision. You have this tiny grin on your face that makes me relax and dissolve into you, right there on the floor of all godly places, and imagine a cozy sea breeze meeting at the shore. Two elements of two different paths in life coming together seamlessly and easily and choosing to mold the world into their liking and create something that could only be described as their own.

Such a thought, ne?