Nothing like a good review or two to get my fingers into turbo mode

I don't know about you, but love scenes are one of the hardest to write. You want it to be sexy and romantic. You want it to flow and be natural. You want it to set off a small sensation inside of you as you read it.

Here's to hoping I managed just that, Birgitta

Lucas:

My feet guide me across the sand to the command tower. They have taken over. They must for my mind is elsewhere. Mentally, I am still in that room, with Skye, with my lips on hers and my fingers entwined in her hair. Why did I leave? Why did I end the kiss? Why did I not take more?

I know why… because she didn't respond like I had hoped. Sure, her lips formed to mine and her tongue played along, yet her arms hung at her side. And when I walked away, she didn't stop me. Why didn't she stop me?

Heavily, tired of the pursuit and the constant rejections, I take each wooden step leading upwards. Walking in, I find that the command tower is empty except for one soldier. This is unusual but perfect. Shannon is most likely still wrestling and talking sense to his son. My father might have rushed off to offer his superior guidance and lecture young Shannon on proper social behavior. My lecture is coming up next, at one point or another. I'll take as late a point as I can. My father will not care about the details, similar to Skye, he will only care about the fact that I was involved in a bar brawl. It's below a Taylor… he could be right… not that I would give him the satisfaction and tell him that.

The table below one of the windows lures me to it. This is my father's refreshment table. Usually, I go for the water but right now water is not going to cut it. I pick up the bottle with my father's heavier stuff, the stuff reserved for special occasions. I can't image an occasion more special so I pour myself a cup. The liquor that I shared with Malcolm is wearing off and I feel the need for more. I feel the need to numb myself.

"Dr. Taylor…"

"Yeah."

It's the soldier disturbing me and I have to play nice. Frankly, I just want him to leave, to disappear, to allow me to get drunk and wallow in my wretched mood in solitude. The filled cup in my hand weighs down my arm. It pulls it to the floor, drawing my attention to its fullness and its wish to be emptied. I shouldn't disappoint.

"…you have a visitor."

I don't dare to hope yet when I look to the door, to this visitor, it is she; the only one who can alter my wish for solitude, the only one who can set me ablaze, and the only one who can make me lower the cup from my lips untouched.

The soldier, guessing correctly that his presence is unwanted, leaves and the room is empty except for the two of us.

A small nod his way accompanied by a reasonable question; she has asked it before. "Why did he call you Doctor?"

"Because that's what I am. I hold several Doctorate degrees. "

"Oh."

There is no sign of her being impressed. Not that I had meant to impress her. She asked so I answered. With all my secrets, it's nice to be able to tell the entire truth once in awhile.

She takes two unsure steps inside while her hands wrings nervously. Preparing, I position myself straight ahead of her wide-legged. My arms hang at my sides with the cup still just as filled in my right hand. I want to rush up to her, pick her up, and get back to kissing her. Lay her down on the floor and spend the next several hours pleasing her. And why not? She is here for a reason. What other reason could there be… other than her wanting more? I think 'more' and my body reacts, imagining and fantasizing what this more entails.

"I've thought about what happened between us and what you said…"

My confidence shatters. "Uhm."

I am not sure if I want to hear what is coming. Yet again, I don't know in which direction we are headed; are we going forward, back, or are we frozen in this position of agony?

"Did you mean it… when you said you love me?"

It had been barely a mumble, words spoken as my lips met hers, yet she had heard it. "Yes."

I'm glad she had heard it.

My love confession doesn't get the reception I had hoped for. "No," she argues and shakes her head. "I can't accept that. I mean… you hardly know me. We've just met. That's not how love works… is it?"

Is it a question? Is she expecting an answer? What am I supposed to say, do, to convince her? Kissing her won't do it. What will?

The cup in my hand seems to weigh a thousand lbs and I can hardly hold it. My hands are trembling, making the liquid splash around and drip down the outer edges. I wish I could just get rid of the cup, throw it away or set it down, so that my hand can be free. I feel trapped; a sensation I hate. Still, I do not move.

Skye is the one who moves; one small step closer to me, two, then three, and my heart begin to pound. "I don't know if you truly love me. Who am I to tell you what you feel but… I do know that love takes time… love has to be allowed to grow… it comes from sharing, trust, and sometimes sacrifice and… I haven't had that with you so… I do know that I don't love you."

There it is; the truth that I have feared ever since I left her and crossed over the blue. The 'other Skye', the one who did love me, had told me. She had warned me and predicted; "If you do this, I won't know you… I won't love you… I won't even like you."

Just as I am to turn my back to Skye, set my cup down on my father's desk, and bow my head in defeat, I can see that her features have begun to alter. A shyness is creeping in across her whole self with a hesitant smile. She takes a few more steps towards me and the way she moves has changed as well. Her advance on me has become more feminine and sultry. There is a sway in her hips similar to Kat's, yet the difference is that Skye's effort has an effect on me. Watching her approach, still wounded and beaten by her honest words, I do not dare to guess her intent. I do not dare to assume that her act of seduction has any meaning or will lead to anything other than my heart once again being broken.

She places herself in front of me, her eyes scanning my features as if trying to decide where to start, where to place her hands first. "I may not love you but…" she mumbles, stretching up on her toes, and brings her lips to mine.

This time, I am the one who stands frozen. Her fingers scrape at my neck, up my scars and into my hairline, sending shivers down my back. I can feel her breasts press up against, trying to get closer, trying to entice me with her flesh. My body wants to react, violently, to her aggressive kisses and fondling but my brain remains in shutdown mode, still reeling from her revelation that she does not love me. Who cares, my body yells at my mind, she wants us. It's a start. It's a very good start. Do something before she pulls away again!

Finally catching on, finally agreeing, my brain sends out the necessary electrical signals to my neurons. In response, my fingers release its grip on the mug and it drops, splattering the untouched liquor across the floor. My hands now have the freedom they have so desperately longed for. Not caring about where we are and who might walk in on us, my hands grip and cup the bottom of her backside roundness. While never taking my lips off of hers, I lift her up and her slender legs wrap around me. Feeling her so close, sensing her willingness… I nearly lose it. I want to strip off her clothes, unzip my pants, and release my bottle-upped angst inside of her. It's been too long but the memory of her has never faded. My body remembers precisely how perfect she feels and how well we move together. It yearns for a repeat and it seems as if the waiting is coming to an end.

With her legs still around me, her muscular inner thighs squeezing and pressing me to her heated moist center, I set her down on my father's desk. Something falls off and smashes into pieces. Not bothering, not caring, the kiss continues. Her hands have moved from my hair and are now pulling at my lower back, just above my ass, to get me closer. If I got any close I would be entering her which is not a bad idea at all.

Behind us, someone clears their throat. I think. I'm not sure. My head is buzzing from the sound of my own groaning, Skye's moans, and the inside echo of my excitement. Skye's fingers have now found the lip of my shirt and they are wandering up, her tips playing with my skin as if I am an instrument. As if I wasn't already on fire, as if I wasn't already aching with desire, as if I wasn't already contemplating inappropriate public display of my affection, Skye's touch is bringing me to a dangerous brink. Unable to resist, I unsnap her bra from underneath her shirt. Her breasts are released, as they should be, and they are now available toys for my hands. My thumbs begin to play with her erected nipples and my talent is rewarded with moans and rocking movements.

Another item falls off my father's desk, crashing and breaking, and then my suspicion of us not being alone anymore is confirmed. "Do you two mind? That's my desk."

My father, of course, he has a tendency of ruining my fun.

Embarrassed and horrified by being caught by my father, the great commander of Terra Nova, Skye hides her face against my neck but she doesn't let go of me. I'm of the same sentiment and my fingers continue to arouse and tease their new playthings as if we are still alone.

Grinning, anticipating a shocked response from both my father and Skye, I let my father know what I think of him interrupting us. "Actually, we do mind. Be so kind and come back in say 10 minutes."

Skye, gasping, stiffs in my arms and my father's mumbles something before leaving, something about improper conduct and unpleasant sight.

"I can't believe you said that… to the commander."

I pull back my hands from underneath her shirt and push a string of hair away from her eyes, tucking it securely behind an ear. "He's my father and he was young once… or so I've been told; young and in love." She shakes her head at me, still horrified by the turn of events. Me, I simply look to the near future, already dreading our separation and planning our next encounter. "Besides, imagine how embarrassed you'll be in the morning when you are caught by my father sneaking out of my bedroom."

I try to stay serious but I fail as a wide grin proves impossible to hold back.

"Is that so?" She smiles and I nod enthusiastically.

I begin to kiss her again, my passion radiation from my lips into hers. "Please," I beg and plead, not the least concerned over loss of pride or power. For her, I'd give up my very last shred of dignity and hand over all control. "Please, I can't… I wouldn't be able to… I need you."

She looks into my eyes, as if seeing me for the first time, completely overcome by my exposure. "What are you doing to me?" She breathes, like a hush.

"Hopefully the same thing that you do to me," I whisper back; hushed, intimate, naked.

Smiling secretively, not telling me yes or no, she slides off the table and leaves. Not trusting myself, not trusting my willpower to not run after her, I don't turn around until I know for certainty that she is gone. Ignoring the mess we have made on my father's desk and across the floor, I find my own desk and sit down in my chair. Deep in thought, I spin from side to side while I let my mind replay every intimate detail. Her touch had been the same yet completely different. There had been more heat, more desire, and more urgency. This Skye is not held back by anything because this Skye has everything: Terra Nova, her mother, her friends… still, she has chosen me, not because she owes me or because it is us against the world but because she wants me. Most importantly, there is no guilt or no repercussions of being with me. Here, now, I am the good guy and being with me will not mean losing her loved ones. Going back in time, killing my other self, and rejoining my father's side; it was all worth it because by tonight, Skye will once again by mine, body and soul, and nothing and no one will ever change that.