The kiss you've all been waiting for, part two.
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Knives stared at the vermin. Her eyes were clear, hiding nothing, but giving nothing away. Tension stretched between them and he knew that she was feeling much the same as he was. The moment demanded a kiss. He didn't really want to kiss her, didn't want to sully his lips on the filth of hers, but he'd much rather suffer that than have her see him turn away. He was still more than a little upset at how she had reacted upon seeing him unclothed. The memory tried to bring a blush to his face again, but he fought the impulse down. She did not deserve the satisfaction she would derive from his embarrassment. He ignored the small voice that tried to tell him that it was his fault for answering the door naked. She should have waited for him to be done at his leisure, and not have forced a superior being to hurry his ablutions. Her eyes should not have lingered on any part of him, sullying his perfection with her vulgar nature. The thought of kissing her turned his stomach, but he was sure that the action would never be realized. She was a coward when it came to her heart, her tough words a mask for her inability to interact with others. Any minute now, she would back away, avert her eyes and blush, and he would merely smile at her, a superior little smile, the one he was so good at bestowing on the vermin.
Surely this moment had passed by now. He wondered what was taking so long, what could possibly be drawing this out through so many minutes. He was slightly aware of the world around them, but so much of his attention was taken up by the sheer effort of not flinching away from her horrid presence that he failed to realize that time had slowed beyond a crawl. All he felt was revulsion, and determination to face this fresh horror unflinching. Surely, surely she would break first. It was in the nature of the vermin to be weak. Dammit, why wasn't she being weak yet? He was not going to break first.
He waited for her to lose her nerve, to back off, to let the feeling pass without acting on it, but such was not to be. Suddenly, her lips were pressed against his, a soft presence that surprised and shocked. Instead of concentrating on avoiding her, he was surrounded by her. His senses were assailed by the very being of her and his mind shook under the assault. There was a scent to her, a rich smell like fresh-turned earth, rich loam and growing things. It was heady to a man raised in the cold environment of space, and stranded on a planet that was mostly covered with sand. He could hardly breathe enough of it, his being drowning in the very scent of life that surrounded her. A part of him craved this scent, a part he hadn't known was being denied until this very moment.
Amazingly, he found that he didn't want to move his mouth away from hers. The press of her mouth on his defied his every expectation. Instead of feeling defiled, he felt invigorated, enlightened, and energized. It was as if this connection opened a previously unknown ability to tap into the energies of the universe, and that these newfound energies poured through him, and through her, through them both, connecting them and merging pieces of them. When all reason would have thought such a thing horrible, experience taught that it was wonderful. Together they were greater then they were apart. He leaned in closer, as if physical closeness could enhance the experience.
Her tongue lapped at his lower lip, the soft caress melting his bones. He was glad to be sitting on the sand, or else he would have gone sprawling. As it was, his grip on her wrist relaxed. He felt her moving out of his grasp but could not find the fortitude to hold her tightly. He was surprised to feel her fingers slid through his, but he gripped them eagerly, as if their hands were a lifeline holding them to this world.
He opened his mouth as well, aching for a taste of her. Slowly he dragged his tongue on her lip, mimicking the action she had just taken, and was rewarded by feeling her shudder under his subtle caress. She was sweet, so sweet that he grew ever more intoxicated. Nothing in his life had ever tasted this good. Aching for more, he slipped inside her mouth, searching for the source of the delight. Yes, it was even better here. She yielded to his presence, accepting him and welcoming him. The energy he felt was matched to his pulse, growing with every beat. He felt it settling within him, filling his body, tingling through him, settling in his stomach and below. He craved her, craved the feel of her, the scent of her, the taste of her. His entire being was focused on absorbing more of her. She seemed to feel the same, if the pressure of her hand in his and the movements of her mouth against him were any indication.
Almost, almost he lost himself in her, but pain brought him back to reason. Her fingernails were driven into the back of his hand hard enough to draw blood, but the pain focused his mind and allowed him to pull back from the precipice of surrender that his search for sensation had led him to. With an almost physical feeling of separation he tore his lips from hers. His eyes sought out hers, and he wondered if the panic he felt was as obvious in his expression as what he saw on her face.
"Is it always like that?" he gasped.
Her eyes widened further. "It's never been like that," she responded, equally out of breath. "What the hell just happened?"