[Rimbaud: "Bad Blood", from "A Season In Hell"]
Beauty incarnate beside me in an elegant sprawl of golden silky skin and tumbled white sheets. One leg across my thighs, one arm flung loosely, possessively, across my chest; your cheek pillowed against my shoulder. Just looking at your unconscious face, even more beautiful in unguarded sleep, filled me with an incredible contentment.
I finally belonged.
Somewhere in the distance the night bell sounded; a single tone that echoed softly down corridors and halls. The note was like a meditation; pure in form and on many an occasion I had sat quietly, waiting for it. I had even, in a moment of great introspection after... after Xanatos... had even composed a kata around it: the final movement needing precise timing to fall exactly upon the sounding of the bell.
You stirred in your slumber, your fingers twining in my hair, gently and unconsciously twisting and twirling it. I smiled to myself as this simple action shot me back several years to the young boy you once were, twirling your stubby Padawan braid in your sleep. How the sight of that had made me ache...
You sighed; your warm breath coursing over my throat and sending a shudder winging through me. A faint mutter left your lips as you wriggled for a moment and then settled. Reaching out a hand, I gently stroked your hair, smoothing down the tousles and spikes that you always seemed to acquire during sleep.
Skin so warm as it nuzzled mine, you radiated heat and light into me: heat through your flesh and light through the new bond. I saw the dreams that flitted across your mind; butterfly thoughts that never settled. Images of sound, of sky, of sea, of blue eyes, of me.
I never knew that you dreamt of me, love; although I should have guessed it. After all, you filled my own sleeping thoughts, and many of my waking ones.
It was so quiet, so peaceful...
I closed my eyes and listened to you breathe. Soft sounds, regular and reassuring. Lungs would never stop breathing, heart would never cease beating: you would never stop existing. Even if one of us were to die___
You stirred restlessly and, belatedly, I remembered that not only were your thoughts mine; mine were also yours. A frown had creased the skin between your eyebrows and I smoothed it with a kiss.
Always one, love. Never apart, no matter what happens in the future
You settled, then, and I rested my head back against the pillows, listening once more. I always listen, my love. Scent and sound are the strongest of memories; did you know that? I adore your sounds: your soft sleeping breath; your voice in the 'fresher as you sing in the morning; your cries when we make love; your laughter; even the sound of your tears. You have only wept twice in my presence, yet the sound of your grief is imprinted on my heart.
"Master?"
The word I loved to hear you say. You managed to imbue it with so much more than the simple reference to a teacher that it implies.
"Yes, Obi-Wan?" I was surprised to hear my voice sound so hoarse with emotion.
"Master, is everything alright? I can sense your restlessness."
Your concern touched me more deeply than you could ever have known, and I kissed your lips.
"I'm fine, love. Go back to sleep."
"If you're sure..." Your voice was drowsy, yet still doubtful. I hesitated.
"Master, kiss me and everything will be fine," you said suddenly.
As if I could refuse an offer like that...
Soft, moist lips upon mine, the double shock of a shared soul, and a gentle mind-touch so subtle that I scarcely noticed it. You gave me inexpressible comfort, unconditional love and... I chuckled... a little Force-nudge in the direction of soothing sleep.
"You care for me in every little way, don't you?" I whispered as you finally drew away. I kissed your forehead as you settled against me once more. "Beloved boy..."
"Of course I do," you mumbled, already sliding into sleep. "You're my Master and I love you..."
The room fell silent once more, echoing faintly to the sound of those last three words and your soft, sleeping breath.
Yes, love; I've heard your tears but twice: the first time one week ago, the second only last night. Your dreams fill me: sudden nightmares of pain and fear that I quickly move to stifle. A gentle touch of my mind calms you, like placing a damp blanket over licking flames.
Sleep, love. I am here
You quieten immediately, murmuring softly. It hurts me so much to have to share these dreams with you. Living these tortured twists of your mind, trying to prevent dark shadows from scarring your sleep; this is torment beyond belief. Sometimes I feel so helpless...
Oh, love... Who would have guessed that your poised beauty and whipcord strength hides such terrors in the night?
And I, with my stupid bull-headedness, have only gone and made it worse for you; exactly one week ago...