The knock startled him and he rose from his bed quickly, calling for
whomever it was to enter. The security system had not gone off, he knew
that, so what and who was knocking on his door, what had happened. He
turned to find Sara, standing in the dark hall, looking a little
uncertainly at him. She stepped forward slowly into the fire lit room, her
hair loose, dressed as she usually was for bed, looking at him quietly. He
flowed forward to her, meeting in the center of the floor.
"Sara, is something wrong?" he asked, concerned.
"Nothing really, I just couldn't sleep, and I." she trailed off, looking around his bedroom. It was a nice room, dark paneling, burgundy rug, fire in the fireplace burning low. What is it with this place and fires? she thought, Not like they don't have central heat. But they did give the place a nice feel. There were bookshelves and weapons on the wall. Over the fireplace was a black and white print or something that looked oriental. She took it all in, the two chairs drawn up by the fireplace, the four poster bed to the right and the door to the left that was just barely open and led to the bathroom. Great, I'm here now what?
"Please sit down, I'm sorry, I was just surprised to see you," he pointed to one of the chairs and she fell into it, trying to organize her thoughts. "I was just thinking about you," he told her softly, sitting in the other chair. He wanted nothing more than to put his arms around her, hold her right now, but she seemed a little lost. He waited, watching, knowing that she would talk when she was ready.
Sara sat and watched the fire, trying to find the words to explain to him why she was here, what she wanted. How could she show him what she had only just begun to see herself? Her feelings, suddenly clear in her heart like light through a frost covered window, glowing and prismatic, that one moment when everything was suddenly transformed. She looked over at him, watching her in the firelight. His face was slightly shadowed; dark eyes following silently her every move. She thought about the dreams, in dreams it was so easy, they had lifetimes between them, so why was this moment so hard? She couldn't let them be apart, tonight of all nights, when tomorrow was so uncertain. If something went wrong at least they would have this moment.together. Something concrete, to reassure them both that what was happening between them was not just another dream.
"Ian, I couldn't sleep." She started slowly, " I know that tomorrow is going to be the beginning of something very difficult, if it doesn't work, I don't know what to do. We could lose everything we have started together. I could lose my badge, hell, we could both end up in jail at the worst. I.I just did not want to be alone tonight. I wanted to be with you." She looked at him, trying, praying he understood. Ian rose and knelt by her chair, looking up into her eyes.
"Sara," he said, trying to get emotions under control. She leaned down and kissed him, slowly, trying to remember what he had said, to let him feel what she was feeling. Ian felt her brush his mind and opened up to her, reaching out to see what she was showing him. It was overwhelming, the warmth, the love in her heart that she could not bring out in words. He looked up at her, a wealth of unfettered emotions in his eyes, love, confusion, concern and desire all merging in the darkness.
"I don't."
"Shhh, its all right," she whispered, taking his hands in hers, guiding them to her. "Just touch me." He was cautious, hesitant, mind spinning, heart pounding in a haze of sensation. He ran his hands over her slowly, barely touching her. He was in awe, she was here, lying in his bed and letting him touch, feel her; more intense that the simple contact they had shared before for the promise of sensation long denied, finally released. He leaned forward, crossing the space between them to kiss her. She opened her mouth, letting the kiss deepen, showing him with her response that what he was doing was right. He could wait for the words, but this, this was really happening. He moved closer, lying on his side, facing her.
Sara was a little lightheaded, she wanted to reach out and touch him but knew she was doing the right thing, letting him explore, become relaxed with her. The room had gotten very warm and she knew it had nothing to do with the fire, at least not the one on the hearth. She could feel him in her head, it was odd, like being two places at once and she knew that he was feeling it too. She could see it, feel it, the wealth of confusion, fear of disappointing her, hurting her, embarrassment at his lack of experience, love and longing all mixed in a heart so new to allowing itself to feel. For a moment they both just lay there, looking at each other, trying to come to grips with what was happening. For a brief second she almost drew back on instinct, fear of the unknown, fear of the sharing, the emotional intimacy on top of the physical. The Witchblade warmed her wrist a little, swirling, reassuring her and Ian as well as he followed her feelings in his mind. This was right, it was what was meant to be. She hoped blindly that it was not too much for him, this sort of sharing was out of both of their experience. But he was holding on, she could feel it, her emotions feeding the flame of his assurance. Deciding to push a little more she took his hands and placed them at the bottom of her tee shirt, moving to make it easier, make it obvious what he was supposed to do. Ian closed his eyes for a moment and bit his lip. He knew that there was no turning back and since she had opened her heart to him, his final objection was dust on the floor.
He did as she wanted, tossing the shirt away into the darkness. Her skin stood out, stark white in the dim light, his hands twitching as he tried to bring himself to make the next move. He moved closer, bringing his arms around her, pulling her toward him, the feel of her skin against his hands was beyond words. "Beautiful," he whispered softly, unaware that he had even spoken. He touched her, following the line of her shoulder down her arm. She shivered a little as the pure joy in him flooded her senses. He was trying to take his time, to capture every moment; every feeling in his memory, but it was getting harder to control. The feel of skin against skin was amazing, and addictive, he wanted to explore the myriad combinations of texture and sensation, but it was so hard. He was torn between that need and the desire that was building, making it hard to control his actions. The back of his mind knew exactly what was happening, but he did not want to rush this, to end it all too soon.
Sara sighed, shaken that such a simple thing as his touch could be so arousing. She wanted to touch him, to return the feelings but she held back, taking it all carefully, not overwhelming him or doing anything that might cause him to pull away. One of his sudden reactions would ruin the evening and could irreparably damage his emerging confidence. But she could feel him; he was not frightened, not really. The whirl and flow of his emotions almost to fast to follow, especially when caught up in her own. She was not longer sure which of them was feeling what, too close to separate. He was adapting to it better, years of experience and control making it easier to accept, and she drew on that, drew her confidence from it. It amazed her, hands which could kill, also knew instinctively where to touch, how to make the nerves respond so completely. Ian was a very quick study, responding to every move, sound, even the flow of feelings between them. He was fascinated by the sensations, wanted more. He kissed, touched, explored every inch of skin bared to his hands, his lips, the brush of his short beard against her skin, even the feel of his hair as it slid against her caused her breath to catch in her throat and she was almost completely lost, in his feelings and hers.
The need to touch him was too much, she pushed him back a little and he responded immediately to her touch. She reached over and started to unbutton the top of the black pajamas, soft cool fabric against her warm palms. He followed her motions, tried to help, but she pushed his hand away There was a brief moment of embarrassment, of shame, at the thought of Sara seeing him naked, the physical reality almost shaking him free of the moment. But her feelings of awe, of pleasure flowed thorough him, driving away the doubts with renewed pleasure. He laid stock still, waiting for his body to tense or flinch away unconsciously as it usually did, but nothing happened, only the feel of cool air against his warm chest as she opened the shirt. He shrugged out of it and moved, suddenly wanting to feel her soft skin against his. She let her hands flow over his back, pausing occasionally to run them again over some rough spot or scar she felt against her palm. He was beautiful, unbelievably beautiful, every muscle lean and sculpted from years of training. She had seen him without his shirt before but this was the first time she felt free to stare, to drink him in without making him uncomfortable because he had already done the same. She ran her hands down his chest and was rewarded with the sudden indrawn breath as her fingers brushed sensitive nipples. She felt him clamp down hard, reasserting years of control over his mind and body, not letting go.
He began exploring again, his hands slipping just beneath the waist of her cotton pants, wanting and needing more. Sara shifted her hips up, letting him pull them down her legs, leaving her wearing nothing but simple panties. She was getting increasingly restless under his hands, needing to feel him closer. His reaction amazed her, without prompting he stripped out of the last of his clothing, and moved to pull her completely against him. He was holding on to sanity by a thread, control more a matter of ingrained habit than conscious effort at this point. She kissed back running her hands over him anxiously, wanting to make up for the time that she had lost in making him comfortable. She kissed his throat, nipped his ear, heard his breath catch as she found a particularly sensitive spot at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Ian groaned, not sure how much more his overtaxed and underused nerves could stand of her. It was taking too much effort to keep from completely losing himself in Sara.
"Ian," she whispered his name, her voice strained, hoarse. He looked at her, his eyes wild, unable to speak, only feel. He pulled back, removing the last of her clothes, pushing her gently back. Instinct took over as they both felt the last of his control shatter like glass. Passion, need, longing, emotions that had been suppressed in him since before he truly understood them, resurfaced suddenly. She pulled him closer, her need was just as great and all she could think about the two of them coming together. All the dreams, all the visions, coalesced in one thought between them. It was so easy to sink into one another, to just feel without thought. He moved so smoothly, felt so good, and she held him tighter, fingers digging into his shoulders, breath caught in her throat. She heard him cry out her name and they both let go together, spinning out of control, until they collapsed in a breathless heap. For a brief moment, it seemed that everything had gone black, but her vision cleared, Ian's head was next to hers, buried in the pillows, stray lock of hair trailing over her. She could feel the dampness of tears against her skin and for a moment she was unsure whether they were his or hers and realized it was both. She reached up gently and brushed his hair from the side of his face.
Ian groaned, he had never felt so weak in his life. He took a moment, the shock of being alone in his own head after that.he could not even. He gave up. He tried to raise himself, to move away from her, but Sara still had her arms wrapped around him and did not let go.
"Sara?" he asked, a little uncertainly, trying to reassure himself that she was all right. He had not even known that it was possible, for their emotions to join like that without control, and was unsure whether his practical Sara could handle it. His Sara, the possessive even in his own mind startled him a little. He felt her shift a little and realized that he was still on top of her, his weight pressing into her. He began to move immediately, but she would not let him, her arms still locked around him, keeping him close. "I should move, I could hurt you."
"Not yet, just lay still for a moment," she told him, still a little breathless. "Take your time." He looked at her with an awed expression. Never in his life had he pictured anything like what had just happened. Her acceptance, her love of him, something he had given up long ago as impossible was too much for him to grasp at the moment and as contented as he was, he would not pursue it. His eyes were glowing with adoration, and for the first time it didn't bother her because it was no longer the gaze of supplicant to Goddess, but a man for the woman he loved.
"Sara?" he asked sleepily as she released her hold on him, allowing him to move away. She snuggled up close to him, moving his arm around her neck so she could put her head on his shoulder, against his chest. She laid a hand across his waist and looked up into his eyes. "Have you ever.I mean, is that.?"
"Normal? I don't know. It wasn't like anything I ever...It was special, beautiful. Was it everything you dreamed?" she asked, her eyes glowing in the dying firelight.
"More, so much more. I.I cannot explain what this means to me."
"You don't have to, I think I understand," her voice was tired, and her eyes were half closed. "We should sleep," she told him.
"Sara, I love you," he whispered, as he slipped easily into the sleep of the exhausted. Sara started to answer, but was asleep herself before the words were out of her mouth.
Ian woke in the early hours of the morning to find that last night had not been a particularly vivid dream. Sara lay, warm and naked, curled in his arms, hair spread out over his chest, one leg across him, head buried in his shoulder. He looked at her lying there, wanting to touch her, afraid that if he did he would wake her and everything would change again. She was like no other woman in the world and she finally understood, wanted to be with him. The lack of experience had not even bothered him, so wrapped up in his father's vision, until Sara. It made him more determined than ever to make everything work out, to make this work. He wondered how his father would respond to this change. He was probably furious in whatever hell he had found himself. Now Ian would go on with his life, create a new vision for himself, for Sara. He reached out gently and brushed her hair back so he could study her face. She was deeply asleep, no dreams troubling her, no restless tossing as she spent so many nights doing. She had been so different when she came to his room last night. He had only once seen her so unsure before and that was just after she had gotten the Witchblade, in the church when she had first tried to enlist his help with it. He wanted her to sleep but at the same time he wished that she were awake so that he could be sure that everything was still all right. Last night had been.intense, and he knew that it was not what she had expected either. That the two of them had been so connected, so intimate on an emotional level, had left him with more than a few questions and possibilities. But he was still concerned about what was happening, what would happen between them now. He reached down and gently touched her face, feeling her soft skin against his palm. He wondered what to do, how to treat her now.
Sara awoke with the soft touch of Ian's hand on her face, his warm body beneath her, feeling cozy and safe in the small room that he called his own. She looked up and smiled at him, his eyes soft in the dark. He had such beautiful eyes. "Hey, Bright eyes, you going to spend all morning watching me?"
"I would spend forever watching you, if you would let me," he told her, running his hand through her hair, waiting to see how she would react this morning.
"Yeah, well that could be a problem, but I think we can work something out." She raised her head and gave him a little kiss, trying to reassure him that things were still ok between them.
"Sara," a thought occurred to him, "why do you call me that?"
"What? I don't know, it seemed appropriate at the time, besides, you do have beautiful eyes," she told him. He smiled, ducking his head a little at the compliment, wondering how to express what he wanted to say. Sara stretched a little against him, the feel of her causing his pulse to race all the more. She smiled and rolled over more fully against him, enjoying the reaction she was getting. Her smile was an invitation that he was unable or unwilling to resist. He kissed her, letting himself enjoy the feel of her against him before sliding his arms around her and rolling them both over together. She giggled a little in pure enjoyment, before it became lost in his kiss.
They felt their minds joining again as before, the feeling if anything more intense for their instant awareness of it. He was trying to continue last night's exploration but she was too impatient for that, pulling him closer and running her hands over his skin. The feel of her touch was still astounding, sending ripples through his entire body. He could feel his desire taking over as he tried to hold on, make each moment last as long as possible.
Sara felt the rough edge of his passion in her mind and responded to it. She reached out for him, trying to pull him even closer, letting him know what she wanted, not giving him a chance to think, only to react to her. They merged easily, as if they had been lovers forever. The shock of it all made every nerve respond at once. It was almost unbearable, this need to be a part of each other. Too easy, too intense, beyond emotion or reason, they found themselves out of control together.
They collapsed in a heap, still tangled together, enjoying the feel of simply holding each other in the early morning light that seeped through the drapes. Sara had never been so content. No one else had ever been so much a part of her, able to respond to her feelings alone with out urging or explanation. It was frightening and disconcerting and comforting at the same time. She cast a look down at her wrist where the 'blade was calm again, its swirling colours returning to normal. It should have made her angry that it interfered even here, in her most intimate moments, but considering everything, she was just too tired, too happy to complain. They were meant to be together, that was what everything, every instinct was telling her. She wondered why she had not seen it from the beginning. But then perhaps that would have been a little too suspicious and too much for them both to deal with at the time. The situation was difficult now, with Irons alive it would have been impossible. Besides, she did not believe in love at first sight. She looked up at Ian as he pulled her closer.
"Sara, I." he started, but then just kissed her. What do you say to such an experience? He held her closer and began to drift off into a completely happy slumber. Sara followed him a moment later, both of them needing a little more sleep before facing a trying day.
"Nothing really, I just couldn't sleep, and I." she trailed off, looking around his bedroom. It was a nice room, dark paneling, burgundy rug, fire in the fireplace burning low. What is it with this place and fires? she thought, Not like they don't have central heat. But they did give the place a nice feel. There were bookshelves and weapons on the wall. Over the fireplace was a black and white print or something that looked oriental. She took it all in, the two chairs drawn up by the fireplace, the four poster bed to the right and the door to the left that was just barely open and led to the bathroom. Great, I'm here now what?
"Please sit down, I'm sorry, I was just surprised to see you," he pointed to one of the chairs and she fell into it, trying to organize her thoughts. "I was just thinking about you," he told her softly, sitting in the other chair. He wanted nothing more than to put his arms around her, hold her right now, but she seemed a little lost. He waited, watching, knowing that she would talk when she was ready.
Sara sat and watched the fire, trying to find the words to explain to him why she was here, what she wanted. How could she show him what she had only just begun to see herself? Her feelings, suddenly clear in her heart like light through a frost covered window, glowing and prismatic, that one moment when everything was suddenly transformed. She looked over at him, watching her in the firelight. His face was slightly shadowed; dark eyes following silently her every move. She thought about the dreams, in dreams it was so easy, they had lifetimes between them, so why was this moment so hard? She couldn't let them be apart, tonight of all nights, when tomorrow was so uncertain. If something went wrong at least they would have this moment.together. Something concrete, to reassure them both that what was happening between them was not just another dream.
"Ian, I couldn't sleep." She started slowly, " I know that tomorrow is going to be the beginning of something very difficult, if it doesn't work, I don't know what to do. We could lose everything we have started together. I could lose my badge, hell, we could both end up in jail at the worst. I.I just did not want to be alone tonight. I wanted to be with you." She looked at him, trying, praying he understood. Ian rose and knelt by her chair, looking up into her eyes.
"Sara," he said, trying to get emotions under control. She leaned down and kissed him, slowly, trying to remember what he had said, to let him feel what she was feeling. Ian felt her brush his mind and opened up to her, reaching out to see what she was showing him. It was overwhelming, the warmth, the love in her heart that she could not bring out in words. He looked up at her, a wealth of unfettered emotions in his eyes, love, confusion, concern and desire all merging in the darkness.
"I don't."
"Shhh, its all right," she whispered, taking his hands in hers, guiding them to her. "Just touch me." He was cautious, hesitant, mind spinning, heart pounding in a haze of sensation. He ran his hands over her slowly, barely touching her. He was in awe, she was here, lying in his bed and letting him touch, feel her; more intense that the simple contact they had shared before for the promise of sensation long denied, finally released. He leaned forward, crossing the space between them to kiss her. She opened her mouth, letting the kiss deepen, showing him with her response that what he was doing was right. He could wait for the words, but this, this was really happening. He moved closer, lying on his side, facing her.
Sara was a little lightheaded, she wanted to reach out and touch him but knew she was doing the right thing, letting him explore, become relaxed with her. The room had gotten very warm and she knew it had nothing to do with the fire, at least not the one on the hearth. She could feel him in her head, it was odd, like being two places at once and she knew that he was feeling it too. She could see it, feel it, the wealth of confusion, fear of disappointing her, hurting her, embarrassment at his lack of experience, love and longing all mixed in a heart so new to allowing itself to feel. For a moment they both just lay there, looking at each other, trying to come to grips with what was happening. For a brief second she almost drew back on instinct, fear of the unknown, fear of the sharing, the emotional intimacy on top of the physical. The Witchblade warmed her wrist a little, swirling, reassuring her and Ian as well as he followed her feelings in his mind. This was right, it was what was meant to be. She hoped blindly that it was not too much for him, this sort of sharing was out of both of their experience. But he was holding on, she could feel it, her emotions feeding the flame of his assurance. Deciding to push a little more she took his hands and placed them at the bottom of her tee shirt, moving to make it easier, make it obvious what he was supposed to do. Ian closed his eyes for a moment and bit his lip. He knew that there was no turning back and since she had opened her heart to him, his final objection was dust on the floor.
He did as she wanted, tossing the shirt away into the darkness. Her skin stood out, stark white in the dim light, his hands twitching as he tried to bring himself to make the next move. He moved closer, bringing his arms around her, pulling her toward him, the feel of her skin against his hands was beyond words. "Beautiful," he whispered softly, unaware that he had even spoken. He touched her, following the line of her shoulder down her arm. She shivered a little as the pure joy in him flooded her senses. He was trying to take his time, to capture every moment; every feeling in his memory, but it was getting harder to control. The feel of skin against skin was amazing, and addictive, he wanted to explore the myriad combinations of texture and sensation, but it was so hard. He was torn between that need and the desire that was building, making it hard to control his actions. The back of his mind knew exactly what was happening, but he did not want to rush this, to end it all too soon.
Sara sighed, shaken that such a simple thing as his touch could be so arousing. She wanted to touch him, to return the feelings but she held back, taking it all carefully, not overwhelming him or doing anything that might cause him to pull away. One of his sudden reactions would ruin the evening and could irreparably damage his emerging confidence. But she could feel him; he was not frightened, not really. The whirl and flow of his emotions almost to fast to follow, especially when caught up in her own. She was not longer sure which of them was feeling what, too close to separate. He was adapting to it better, years of experience and control making it easier to accept, and she drew on that, drew her confidence from it. It amazed her, hands which could kill, also knew instinctively where to touch, how to make the nerves respond so completely. Ian was a very quick study, responding to every move, sound, even the flow of feelings between them. He was fascinated by the sensations, wanted more. He kissed, touched, explored every inch of skin bared to his hands, his lips, the brush of his short beard against her skin, even the feel of his hair as it slid against her caused her breath to catch in her throat and she was almost completely lost, in his feelings and hers.
The need to touch him was too much, she pushed him back a little and he responded immediately to her touch. She reached over and started to unbutton the top of the black pajamas, soft cool fabric against her warm palms. He followed her motions, tried to help, but she pushed his hand away There was a brief moment of embarrassment, of shame, at the thought of Sara seeing him naked, the physical reality almost shaking him free of the moment. But her feelings of awe, of pleasure flowed thorough him, driving away the doubts with renewed pleasure. He laid stock still, waiting for his body to tense or flinch away unconsciously as it usually did, but nothing happened, only the feel of cool air against his warm chest as she opened the shirt. He shrugged out of it and moved, suddenly wanting to feel her soft skin against his. She let her hands flow over his back, pausing occasionally to run them again over some rough spot or scar she felt against her palm. He was beautiful, unbelievably beautiful, every muscle lean and sculpted from years of training. She had seen him without his shirt before but this was the first time she felt free to stare, to drink him in without making him uncomfortable because he had already done the same. She ran her hands down his chest and was rewarded with the sudden indrawn breath as her fingers brushed sensitive nipples. She felt him clamp down hard, reasserting years of control over his mind and body, not letting go.
He began exploring again, his hands slipping just beneath the waist of her cotton pants, wanting and needing more. Sara shifted her hips up, letting him pull them down her legs, leaving her wearing nothing but simple panties. She was getting increasingly restless under his hands, needing to feel him closer. His reaction amazed her, without prompting he stripped out of the last of his clothing, and moved to pull her completely against him. He was holding on to sanity by a thread, control more a matter of ingrained habit than conscious effort at this point. She kissed back running her hands over him anxiously, wanting to make up for the time that she had lost in making him comfortable. She kissed his throat, nipped his ear, heard his breath catch as she found a particularly sensitive spot at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Ian groaned, not sure how much more his overtaxed and underused nerves could stand of her. It was taking too much effort to keep from completely losing himself in Sara.
"Ian," she whispered his name, her voice strained, hoarse. He looked at her, his eyes wild, unable to speak, only feel. He pulled back, removing the last of her clothes, pushing her gently back. Instinct took over as they both felt the last of his control shatter like glass. Passion, need, longing, emotions that had been suppressed in him since before he truly understood them, resurfaced suddenly. She pulled him closer, her need was just as great and all she could think about the two of them coming together. All the dreams, all the visions, coalesced in one thought between them. It was so easy to sink into one another, to just feel without thought. He moved so smoothly, felt so good, and she held him tighter, fingers digging into his shoulders, breath caught in her throat. She heard him cry out her name and they both let go together, spinning out of control, until they collapsed in a breathless heap. For a brief moment, it seemed that everything had gone black, but her vision cleared, Ian's head was next to hers, buried in the pillows, stray lock of hair trailing over her. She could feel the dampness of tears against her skin and for a moment she was unsure whether they were his or hers and realized it was both. She reached up gently and brushed his hair from the side of his face.
Ian groaned, he had never felt so weak in his life. He took a moment, the shock of being alone in his own head after that.he could not even. He gave up. He tried to raise himself, to move away from her, but Sara still had her arms wrapped around him and did not let go.
"Sara?" he asked, a little uncertainly, trying to reassure himself that she was all right. He had not even known that it was possible, for their emotions to join like that without control, and was unsure whether his practical Sara could handle it. His Sara, the possessive even in his own mind startled him a little. He felt her shift a little and realized that he was still on top of her, his weight pressing into her. He began to move immediately, but she would not let him, her arms still locked around him, keeping him close. "I should move, I could hurt you."
"Not yet, just lay still for a moment," she told him, still a little breathless. "Take your time." He looked at her with an awed expression. Never in his life had he pictured anything like what had just happened. Her acceptance, her love of him, something he had given up long ago as impossible was too much for him to grasp at the moment and as contented as he was, he would not pursue it. His eyes were glowing with adoration, and for the first time it didn't bother her because it was no longer the gaze of supplicant to Goddess, but a man for the woman he loved.
"Sara?" he asked sleepily as she released her hold on him, allowing him to move away. She snuggled up close to him, moving his arm around her neck so she could put her head on his shoulder, against his chest. She laid a hand across his waist and looked up into his eyes. "Have you ever.I mean, is that.?"
"Normal? I don't know. It wasn't like anything I ever...It was special, beautiful. Was it everything you dreamed?" she asked, her eyes glowing in the dying firelight.
"More, so much more. I.I cannot explain what this means to me."
"You don't have to, I think I understand," her voice was tired, and her eyes were half closed. "We should sleep," she told him.
"Sara, I love you," he whispered, as he slipped easily into the sleep of the exhausted. Sara started to answer, but was asleep herself before the words were out of her mouth.
Ian woke in the early hours of the morning to find that last night had not been a particularly vivid dream. Sara lay, warm and naked, curled in his arms, hair spread out over his chest, one leg across him, head buried in his shoulder. He looked at her lying there, wanting to touch her, afraid that if he did he would wake her and everything would change again. She was like no other woman in the world and she finally understood, wanted to be with him. The lack of experience had not even bothered him, so wrapped up in his father's vision, until Sara. It made him more determined than ever to make everything work out, to make this work. He wondered how his father would respond to this change. He was probably furious in whatever hell he had found himself. Now Ian would go on with his life, create a new vision for himself, for Sara. He reached out gently and brushed her hair back so he could study her face. She was deeply asleep, no dreams troubling her, no restless tossing as she spent so many nights doing. She had been so different when she came to his room last night. He had only once seen her so unsure before and that was just after she had gotten the Witchblade, in the church when she had first tried to enlist his help with it. He wanted her to sleep but at the same time he wished that she were awake so that he could be sure that everything was still all right. Last night had been.intense, and he knew that it was not what she had expected either. That the two of them had been so connected, so intimate on an emotional level, had left him with more than a few questions and possibilities. But he was still concerned about what was happening, what would happen between them now. He reached down and gently touched her face, feeling her soft skin against his palm. He wondered what to do, how to treat her now.
Sara awoke with the soft touch of Ian's hand on her face, his warm body beneath her, feeling cozy and safe in the small room that he called his own. She looked up and smiled at him, his eyes soft in the dark. He had such beautiful eyes. "Hey, Bright eyes, you going to spend all morning watching me?"
"I would spend forever watching you, if you would let me," he told her, running his hand through her hair, waiting to see how she would react this morning.
"Yeah, well that could be a problem, but I think we can work something out." She raised her head and gave him a little kiss, trying to reassure him that things were still ok between them.
"Sara," a thought occurred to him, "why do you call me that?"
"What? I don't know, it seemed appropriate at the time, besides, you do have beautiful eyes," she told him. He smiled, ducking his head a little at the compliment, wondering how to express what he wanted to say. Sara stretched a little against him, the feel of her causing his pulse to race all the more. She smiled and rolled over more fully against him, enjoying the reaction she was getting. Her smile was an invitation that he was unable or unwilling to resist. He kissed her, letting himself enjoy the feel of her against him before sliding his arms around her and rolling them both over together. She giggled a little in pure enjoyment, before it became lost in his kiss.
They felt their minds joining again as before, the feeling if anything more intense for their instant awareness of it. He was trying to continue last night's exploration but she was too impatient for that, pulling him closer and running her hands over his skin. The feel of her touch was still astounding, sending ripples through his entire body. He could feel his desire taking over as he tried to hold on, make each moment last as long as possible.
Sara felt the rough edge of his passion in her mind and responded to it. She reached out for him, trying to pull him even closer, letting him know what she wanted, not giving him a chance to think, only to react to her. They merged easily, as if they had been lovers forever. The shock of it all made every nerve respond at once. It was almost unbearable, this need to be a part of each other. Too easy, too intense, beyond emotion or reason, they found themselves out of control together.
They collapsed in a heap, still tangled together, enjoying the feel of simply holding each other in the early morning light that seeped through the drapes. Sara had never been so content. No one else had ever been so much a part of her, able to respond to her feelings alone with out urging or explanation. It was frightening and disconcerting and comforting at the same time. She cast a look down at her wrist where the 'blade was calm again, its swirling colours returning to normal. It should have made her angry that it interfered even here, in her most intimate moments, but considering everything, she was just too tired, too happy to complain. They were meant to be together, that was what everything, every instinct was telling her. She wondered why she had not seen it from the beginning. But then perhaps that would have been a little too suspicious and too much for them both to deal with at the time. The situation was difficult now, with Irons alive it would have been impossible. Besides, she did not believe in love at first sight. She looked up at Ian as he pulled her closer.
"Sara, I." he started, but then just kissed her. What do you say to such an experience? He held her closer and began to drift off into a completely happy slumber. Sara followed him a moment later, both of them needing a little more sleep before facing a trying day.