SILVER
Notes: This is my entry for the Geekfiction Smut-a-thon 07. Huge thanks go to Mingsmommy for beta-ing me.
Moonlight catches on a crescent of accidental skin visible from beneath her top. That is all, and the luminescence, slow and hypnotic, hums and throbs in his mind all night. Over and over until he can barely recall that her skin can look any other way. Just a tiny peek of hidden skin made silver in the moonlight. He is dizzy and distracted by the teasing thought all the rest of the night; and as Sara goes on ahead of him, stopping by his office, she leans in his doorway asking if everything is alright.
No, everything is wonderful.
He hasn't told her, but he's building memories. Little snatches of time, here and there; a laugh, the way her throat moves as she swallows coffee, mad little fantasies that she is always remarkably open to exploring.
The mental equivalent of a shoe-box full of Polaroid's for those inevitable, his mind says, nights in a lonelier future when he will be able to take them out and remember a time when he was happy.
He waits until they have a mutual night off to share his daydream with her. She puts her coffee mug down and runs a finger over her lips to catch any stray drops, all so slowly that he starts to worry. I thought I was the hippy in this relationship, is all she offers before going out onto the back porch. He stands there for a moment, confused until she shouts back inside that it's a full moon. He finds his feet and goes to stand with her.
The back garden of their home is large, secluded and silvery in the moonlight and Sara is surprisingly willing to indulge his odd little proclivities.
Standing tall and comfortable on the lawn she laughs and stretches her arms up towards the dark sky, watching inky shadows slip over her pale skin and almost feeling its movement, a cold ghost upon her.
The night breeze is cooling and gentle, wrapping itself around her skin; freeing and glorious and for a long moment she cannot believe that she ever existed anywhere else except in this sliver of now.
The moonshine, the starshine highlight the toned strong muscles in her legs, the softness at her belly, the shadowed slope at the apex of her thighs and the amazing sweet slow curves of her breasts. Regardless of the inspiration Gil does not, cannot find it sexual. It is a thousand intense times beyond that. She is his Goddess and he knows it.
She calls him to her then with nothing more than a quirked eyebrow; her pupils glitter out of the shadow and he goes to her, not knowing that he could think of refusing. Her hands are cold in his as she walks into his embrace but her mouth is hot on his neck and he is lost.
Her fit against him is perfect, her mouth slides and sucks in soothing counterpoint to the little nips from her sharp teeth making him hard and the arousal making him shake. His fingertips along the trail of her spine, making her shiver into him. He can feel her hands working the buttons on his shirt but he cannot rouse himself from the liquid deliciousness of her kiss to complain. The twin peaks of her nipples brush his chest and he lowers his arms to help her remove the item completely.
Some tiny lucid part of him knows the difference between this state and naked, that the moon has a power to transform, to create a silent alchemy in flesh. This is more than he asked for and he pulls her closer and kisses her deeper and follows her down as she fusses with the fastener on his dress pants and pushes him down onto the grass.
She has him naked now and reclining, glad about his stubbornness over the sprinklers that keep his lawn green. The tiny blades are lush beneath his skin and Gil is certain he can feel every individual one.
Sara straddles his hips and rolls her heat along the hard length of him.
And he is in her, and she is in him and goes down so very, very deep that for a moment he feels like he is being swallowed whole. Each time he opens his eyes she is rising up over him, looming against the immense dark sky.
Sara reaches down, biting his bottom lip and he is gone, fracturing inside of her, spiralling into black and transcending the illusion of time.
And he knows that there will always be a piece of him right here in this moment, worshipping her.