Rough Edges
By Delenn
November 10, 2006. 298 words. PG-13. Complete. Don't own 'em.
It was the rough texture that drug her to the reality of the moment. His lips pressed against hers - neither as soft as they looked.
He always seemed so immaculate - untouchable - but the weather-bitten, salty taste of his kiss reminded her how real and flawed he was. Because she was too, worn and flawed.
It all made sense in the sharp edges of their kisses. The need and passion and rough violence of it all.
Harsh pants as they gasped for air and hands that dug into each other's hair to claw them back together for more rushed eternities of rough kisses.
"Xena," the tremor in his voice, the cracks of emotion showing through his eyes, and the feel of his lips were all too real.
The moment was all too real.
Xena gasped, one hand disentangling from his hair and involuntarily clutching at her chest. Tried to remember her old black and white view of him. It didn't work.
He brought up his hand, soft but worn fingertips brushing against her face.
She leaned into the touch. Closed her eyes and thought through the moment.
"Xena." This time it was softer and twice as powerful for it.
She came into his arms willingly, seizing him, leather grinding against studded leather as their lips rejoined.
These kisses were the perfect kind of rough - conveying the sharp emotions that fueled them.
She was caught up in the embrace of a timeless creature whose kiss was as rough as hers. And nothing had ever been this real and this surreal before.
He was solid and hard and more real than when they fought. Here, he slid past her armor instead of her sword sliding through him. For the first time, she let him through. In. "Ares..."