Title: Watercolor
Author: Glimmer Girl
Rating: R
Category: POV, romance
Disclaimer: All of SW belongs to GL.
Summary: The narrator muses on life, art and Obi-Wan. Although I had someone in mind for the narrator, I'm leaving it open-ended. You decide! Tell me what you think, if you like. :)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Watercolor
I love the rain. Not the cold, harsh rains that fall on Coruscant and slant down from a slate grey sky. Even with the lightening that crackles in the sky and creates a webwork of light across the planetary shield, those rains are too dark and cold. No, I love the spring rain, the soft, warm mist that comes with the spring months on planets like Alderaan. Grey-white clouds cover the skies, yet sunlight manages to skirt its way over the horizon. Myriads of miniature rainbows dance among the raindrops as rays of light cut through the cloud cover. The light is beautiful, delicate, as if gold were etched around the clouds.
I would love to see you standing in the rain, my Obi-Wan.
Your hair, already damp and dark from the rain, clings to your forehead. A few drops of water trickle down, making you blink rapidly as they trek over eyelids and lashes. You shake your head and send a sprinkling of water into the mist, laughter ringing out. Your eyes and voice are brighter than the sunlight, warmer than the rays that sneak through the clouds to heat the grass and dirt.
I would love to trace the path of that one raindrop. It snakes down from your temple, past the corner of your eye, and over the smooth skin of your cheek. For a moment it lingers at the edge of your jaw, tickling and tingling, until it grows fat and slides down your neck and pools in the hollow of your collarbone. Lucky droplet, to be able to taste and mingle with your sweat. Could I trade places with it, Obi-Wan? Would you let me trace that same path with the tip of my tongue? I admit, I would meander, wandering away to nibble on your jaw or press a lingering kiss on your neck.
You taste fresher than the rain, and I no longer envy that raindrop. Darting my tongue into the hollow of your collarbone, I lick the liquid from your skin. It has absorbed both your heat and essence.
I would never drink water again if it meant this taste would remain on my tongue. Your taste. Maddeningly wonderful, it drives all desire for drink from my mind, yet at the same time, my throat parches and all I want - need - desire is but another sip of you.
You are tantalizing, Obi-Wan. Just when I think I am close to quenching my thirst, I find that I am desperate and scrabbling for more.
So I touch you. I press my hands to your chest, the skin moist and smooth against my hands still dry. When I look into your eyes, they are blue and green and gold, all the colors of water and light. I could drown, I swear I could, but I don't want to.
I want to kiss you. I want to slide my tongue over yours, feel you catch my lip in your mouth. Before I can take another breath, you lick your lips and press them to mine. The sensation is inexplicable - I cannot tell if it's more taste, touch, sound, smell or sight. My senses collide and rush together and all I know is you.
All I ever wanted to know was you, Obi-Wan. I've known the rain and I've known the light and that is nothing compared to the knowledge of you.
I want to feel you, all of you. Your body pressed against mine, as we lay, hip to hip, on the rain-drenched grass. I want to feel your skin slide over mine, the gentle brush of your fingertips over my arms, legs. The heady rush of desire goes to my head and I plunge my tongue deeper into your mouth. In my mind's eye, I see the two of us, limbs entangled and our bodies joined in the act of loving. This joining, this exchange of soul and breath is but a shadow of what lovemaking could be. I want to feel you shudder and shake in my arms, your climax indistinguishable from my own. But you just pull away, end the kiss, and touch my face.
"I love the rain." You whisper.
And I love the way you look in the rain, a nimbus of light and mist surrounding you. Muted colors, the blue-green-gold of your eyes, your pale skin and auburn hair, the clouds and light and grass.
Such a beautiful picture I've painted in my mind.
If only life would imitate art.
~ finis ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Author: Glimmer Girl
Rating: R
Category: POV, romance
Disclaimer: All of SW belongs to GL.
Summary: The narrator muses on life, art and Obi-Wan. Although I had someone in mind for the narrator, I'm leaving it open-ended. You decide! Tell me what you think, if you like. :)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Watercolor
I love the rain. Not the cold, harsh rains that fall on Coruscant and slant down from a slate grey sky. Even with the lightening that crackles in the sky and creates a webwork of light across the planetary shield, those rains are too dark and cold. No, I love the spring rain, the soft, warm mist that comes with the spring months on planets like Alderaan. Grey-white clouds cover the skies, yet sunlight manages to skirt its way over the horizon. Myriads of miniature rainbows dance among the raindrops as rays of light cut through the cloud cover. The light is beautiful, delicate, as if gold were etched around the clouds.
I would love to see you standing in the rain, my Obi-Wan.
Your hair, already damp and dark from the rain, clings to your forehead. A few drops of water trickle down, making you blink rapidly as they trek over eyelids and lashes. You shake your head and send a sprinkling of water into the mist, laughter ringing out. Your eyes and voice are brighter than the sunlight, warmer than the rays that sneak through the clouds to heat the grass and dirt.
I would love to trace the path of that one raindrop. It snakes down from your temple, past the corner of your eye, and over the smooth skin of your cheek. For a moment it lingers at the edge of your jaw, tickling and tingling, until it grows fat and slides down your neck and pools in the hollow of your collarbone. Lucky droplet, to be able to taste and mingle with your sweat. Could I trade places with it, Obi-Wan? Would you let me trace that same path with the tip of my tongue? I admit, I would meander, wandering away to nibble on your jaw or press a lingering kiss on your neck.
You taste fresher than the rain, and I no longer envy that raindrop. Darting my tongue into the hollow of your collarbone, I lick the liquid from your skin. It has absorbed both your heat and essence.
I would never drink water again if it meant this taste would remain on my tongue. Your taste. Maddeningly wonderful, it drives all desire for drink from my mind, yet at the same time, my throat parches and all I want - need - desire is but another sip of you.
You are tantalizing, Obi-Wan. Just when I think I am close to quenching my thirst, I find that I am desperate and scrabbling for more.
So I touch you. I press my hands to your chest, the skin moist and smooth against my hands still dry. When I look into your eyes, they are blue and green and gold, all the colors of water and light. I could drown, I swear I could, but I don't want to.
I want to kiss you. I want to slide my tongue over yours, feel you catch my lip in your mouth. Before I can take another breath, you lick your lips and press them to mine. The sensation is inexplicable - I cannot tell if it's more taste, touch, sound, smell or sight. My senses collide and rush together and all I know is you.
All I ever wanted to know was you, Obi-Wan. I've known the rain and I've known the light and that is nothing compared to the knowledge of you.
I want to feel you, all of you. Your body pressed against mine, as we lay, hip to hip, on the rain-drenched grass. I want to feel your skin slide over mine, the gentle brush of your fingertips over my arms, legs. The heady rush of desire goes to my head and I plunge my tongue deeper into your mouth. In my mind's eye, I see the two of us, limbs entangled and our bodies joined in the act of loving. This joining, this exchange of soul and breath is but a shadow of what lovemaking could be. I want to feel you shudder and shake in my arms, your climax indistinguishable from my own. But you just pull away, end the kiss, and touch my face.
"I love the rain." You whisper.
And I love the way you look in the rain, a nimbus of light and mist surrounding you. Muted colors, the blue-green-gold of your eyes, your pale skin and auburn hair, the clouds and light and grass.
Such a beautiful picture I've painted in my mind.
If only life would imitate art.
~ finis ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~