Chapter Four
He hardly realized that he was leaning against her shoulder for his balance as they crossed to the high bed that dominated the room. Everything had seemed possible once more when he had touched her and felt the embrace returned. The months since Mount Gagazet had become no more than a nightmare while this moment was the dream.
LeBlanc turned to face him and, lifting his left hand, her eyes half- closed, kissed the black glove. The cold flexibility of the hand excited her as she placed it on her breast. Nooj could not feel her nipple harden against the machina palm but he could feel her hair feathery against his cheek and her lips warm against his chest. He gently closed his hand and heard the sudden intake of her breath as she twined her arms around his back and pulled him toward her.
"Wait," he said, pushing her away a little. With the powerful grip the Al Bhed had given him, he grasped her dress and, with a single movement, ripped it from her and tossed it across the room. She wore nothing beneath.
"Yes," she panted moving back into his arms, feeling his heat and coldness together against her flesh through the thin fabric of his garment. The entire surface of her skin had become acutely sensitive; she felt every fiber of his cassock against her tingling flesh. Her head reeled as she staggered, clutching at his wide shoulders. Currents of desire swept across her and she felt faint with her need for this man. Pressing ever closer, she tried to become part of him, to merge with him.
He moved his hands to her upper arms and took a half step back so that he could look at her. The whiteness of her skin dazzled him like the sun striking off snow. He seemed to have never seen anything so white, so brilliantly white. The triangle at the base of her belly glittered like a gilded cup and he was blinded by the incandescence of her body. Inwardly, he struggled with the reins of the discipline that his training had made instinctive. It had been so long...
LeBlanc never shifted her eyes from his as she found the lacings at the neck of the cassock and, untying them, slipped the garment from his shoulders. He hesitated, a sudden fear of how she would respond when she saw him naked before her sending coldness through his veins. Then she moved against him, running her hands down his body, trembling with her need, arching her back so that her erect nipples just touched his chest. She raised her arms and pulled his head down to her parted lips. And it was all right again; everything became a dream, time fluctuating like a strobe.
Nooj took possession of her mouth with authority, tasting her sharp sweetness. She moaned as she drew his tongue deeper with her own and fell back onto the bed, pulling him with her. Intoxicated with her taste, he abandoned her lips for her body, marking a path from her throat to her breasts with his lips, his hands spanning her waist and bending her toward him.
She felt with increasing excitement the touch of the cold black-gloved hand on her skin. Her fingers slid caressingly down his broad chest, tracing the line between flesh and machina as she reached for him. His penis was flaccid in her hand and she whimpered with surprise, looking questioningly into his face.
"Are you sure?" he asked hoarsely, his hand quiet on her breast. His entire body was ablaze from her touch and it required all his control to wait the moment for her answer.
"More than ever in my life." Her voice was clotted with passion but absolutely certain.
Nooj let his mind relax the bonds that had constrained him. He heard her gasp as his organ swelled in her grasp and then it was half dream. He parted her legs and penetrated her. She cried out as she felt him in her body. He was far larger than she had thought; it was too much. Then she seemed to open and, instead of pain, pleasure suffused her, heating and consuming her like a sun radiating from within. She abandoned all attempts at rational thought and let her passions command her. Winding her white leg around the hard smooth hip of her lover, she strained against him with all her strength.
LeBlanc's little mewling cries sang in his ears as he moved urgently within her. It had been so long since he had been with a woman and this one was so adroit and passionate he knew that he would not be able to prolong the act as he usually could. He had not even tried to re-establish the controls he knew he should be using. This was his moment of fulfillment, his reward for the past weeks, his gift from a grateful Spira. At that instant, he sensed her climax approaching and permitted his own. And then it was all dream again.
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"Why did you make me wait so long?" LeBlanc murmured into his chest as she lay sprawled across his body.
He didn't answer, only tightening his arm around her with a wordless shushing sound. He was content to feel the buzz of her lips against him as she spoke, to breath in the fragrance of her skin. Her response had been surprising. He knew that she had said she wanted his body but that had seemed a joke, a mocking way to prod him into a reaction in those darkest of his days. Perhaps she had spoken only the truth, that there was something about him, broken as he was, that touched her desires, stoked her passions. The fleeting impulse to father his son upon her crossed his mind, only to be instantly suppressed. He would not, could not, do that without her consent and understanding. She would have to be told all that bearing his child, particularly a boy, entailed and he had to be sure that this night was not just a momentary aberration on her part.
He raised himself on his right elbow and looked at her, all of her, as she lay loose-limbed in her fulfillment, her eyes half-closed, her breath slow and even. With his insensate hand, he began to stroke her rhythmically from breast to hip. She turned toward him lazily, seeking his body, running her tongue along the path on his smooth chest, the border between feeling and numbness. Once again, he felt that strange sensation of almost feeling from a place where there was no possibility of feeling, that almost sensed touch which excited him more than any other.
LeBlanc's eyes fluttered open and her hands continued the caress her mouth had begun. With intense care, she explored him, touching every part of his body with increasing excitement. He thought he could feel her fingers on his arm, his leg, his groin and beyond. In a welter of sensation, he could no longer distinguish what he actually felt and what he wanted so desperately to feel. With a groan, he moved inside her again and felt her encompass his length in her warmth.
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Again they lay closely entwined, their desires sated. This time had lasted longer, much longer and ended in an explosion of such intensity as to leave the both of them drained. His arm and leg imprisoned her and she wriggled happily, snuggling ever closer and surveying him from under her eyelashes. He seemed asleep with closed eyes and regular breathing.
"I love you," she whispered. It was barely a sound, more of an exhalation.
Nooj heard her. He was not asleep but it served his purposes to let her think so. He did not want to talk at this time, particularly not about love, which played no part in his philosophy. In other relationships, he had learned that love did not always mean what it seemed – that lovers needed to learn a common language before communication could truly begin. In spite of her protestations, he still entertained the possibility that he was merely her latest novelty. No, this night was his; he had earned it.
In his mind and body he was relishing the sensation of completeness, of normalcy that had eluded him since he woke into his new and unwelcome life. He was seized with a flood of gratitude toward the woman who had made this possible, who had given him this gift. For the first time in years, he actually contemplated a future – even one as close as the coming morning – and the next night. Tightening his arm about her, he let himself drift into the sleep that lurked just on the edge of his mind.
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She loved the look of the black glove against her white skin. Shivering deliciously, she surreptitiously watched it move across her breasts, pausing to gently tweak a nipple then continuing its journey in the dim light of the early morning. She tried to remain perfectly still so that he wouldn't stop but found it impossible.
"Open your eyes, LeBlanc. I know you're awake." There was an unfamiliar laugh in his voice.
She squeezed her lids more tightly shut. "If I wake up, you'll stop."
"I won't stop. Promise."
"You can stop if you promise..."
"Promise what?"
"You know..."
Nooj laughed aloud. "I promise." His hand brushed against the golden fleece and did not stop.
"Not that" she slid her own hand between them and reached, "This."
"Ah" He sighed deeply as he moved decisively toward her. "I don't want to hurt you."
"It's all right. I want..." her voice tapered off into a long cooing moan.
The two figures merged into one and there were no more words nor need for them.
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When she woke again, she was alone in the bed. She stretched luxuriously like a cat and burrowed more deeply into the gloriously rumpled nest of the sheets. She felt wonderful and triumphant, content to the limits of her ability to feel happiness.
"Here I am where I wanted to be – in Nooj's bed," she chortled as she hugged herself. "He finally stopped resisting me and I think he's glad of it. I certainly tried to make him happy."
Smiling privately as the memory of the night and the morning danced in her mind, she recalled his touch; he was so much more than she had fantasized: strong, tender, fierce, gentle. It had been worth the wait – more than worth it. She had him, now if only she could keep him. LeBlanc breathed deeply, inhaling his scent from the bedding. She was immediately aroused again.
"I'm afraid I'm addicted to him," she giggled behind her hand. "How can I possibly wait for tonight? Don't suppose he'll come back to bed again this morning. It would be fun if he did. No, rethink that – I don't think I could survive another round with him right now. ... There's always tonight. I wonder if he impregnated me – it's my fertile time and I didn't try to avoid it. I wouldn't mind having his child; he'd have to stay with me then..."
She had felt so small in his embrace – like a pet or a toy that he cuddled for comforting companionship. No, more than companionship, she reminded herself; he was no querulous child in his passions but a lion of a man, possessing her completely in every sense. Not just her body but also her very soul had responded to him, belonged to him. The memory of his caresses continued to enflame her and she clutched them as she had held the man himself only a few hours before. Her eyes lost their focus as she re- created the events that she had dreamed about for so long.
All at once, a powerful sense of misgiving seized her. Had she told him about the Crimson Squad, that group formed to reconstitute the Crusaders? She had meant to keep that tidbit for another time but, in the night, his blandishments might have gotten the news from her. She couldn't remember. There were too many other memories in the way and she had been drunk on desire the entire night. Dismissing her doubts, she snuggled into the nest he had made and returned to her delicious recollections
He hardly realized that he was leaning against her shoulder for his balance as they crossed to the high bed that dominated the room. Everything had seemed possible once more when he had touched her and felt the embrace returned. The months since Mount Gagazet had become no more than a nightmare while this moment was the dream.
LeBlanc turned to face him and, lifting his left hand, her eyes half- closed, kissed the black glove. The cold flexibility of the hand excited her as she placed it on her breast. Nooj could not feel her nipple harden against the machina palm but he could feel her hair feathery against his cheek and her lips warm against his chest. He gently closed his hand and heard the sudden intake of her breath as she twined her arms around his back and pulled him toward her.
"Wait," he said, pushing her away a little. With the powerful grip the Al Bhed had given him, he grasped her dress and, with a single movement, ripped it from her and tossed it across the room. She wore nothing beneath.
"Yes," she panted moving back into his arms, feeling his heat and coldness together against her flesh through the thin fabric of his garment. The entire surface of her skin had become acutely sensitive; she felt every fiber of his cassock against her tingling flesh. Her head reeled as she staggered, clutching at his wide shoulders. Currents of desire swept across her and she felt faint with her need for this man. Pressing ever closer, she tried to become part of him, to merge with him.
He moved his hands to her upper arms and took a half step back so that he could look at her. The whiteness of her skin dazzled him like the sun striking off snow. He seemed to have never seen anything so white, so brilliantly white. The triangle at the base of her belly glittered like a gilded cup and he was blinded by the incandescence of her body. Inwardly, he struggled with the reins of the discipline that his training had made instinctive. It had been so long...
LeBlanc never shifted her eyes from his as she found the lacings at the neck of the cassock and, untying them, slipped the garment from his shoulders. He hesitated, a sudden fear of how she would respond when she saw him naked before her sending coldness through his veins. Then she moved against him, running her hands down his body, trembling with her need, arching her back so that her erect nipples just touched his chest. She raised her arms and pulled his head down to her parted lips. And it was all right again; everything became a dream, time fluctuating like a strobe.
Nooj took possession of her mouth with authority, tasting her sharp sweetness. She moaned as she drew his tongue deeper with her own and fell back onto the bed, pulling him with her. Intoxicated with her taste, he abandoned her lips for her body, marking a path from her throat to her breasts with his lips, his hands spanning her waist and bending her toward him.
She felt with increasing excitement the touch of the cold black-gloved hand on her skin. Her fingers slid caressingly down his broad chest, tracing the line between flesh and machina as she reached for him. His penis was flaccid in her hand and she whimpered with surprise, looking questioningly into his face.
"Are you sure?" he asked hoarsely, his hand quiet on her breast. His entire body was ablaze from her touch and it required all his control to wait the moment for her answer.
"More than ever in my life." Her voice was clotted with passion but absolutely certain.
Nooj let his mind relax the bonds that had constrained him. He heard her gasp as his organ swelled in her grasp and then it was half dream. He parted her legs and penetrated her. She cried out as she felt him in her body. He was far larger than she had thought; it was too much. Then she seemed to open and, instead of pain, pleasure suffused her, heating and consuming her like a sun radiating from within. She abandoned all attempts at rational thought and let her passions command her. Winding her white leg around the hard smooth hip of her lover, she strained against him with all her strength.
LeBlanc's little mewling cries sang in his ears as he moved urgently within her. It had been so long since he had been with a woman and this one was so adroit and passionate he knew that he would not be able to prolong the act as he usually could. He had not even tried to re-establish the controls he knew he should be using. This was his moment of fulfillment, his reward for the past weeks, his gift from a grateful Spira. At that instant, he sensed her climax approaching and permitted his own. And then it was all dream again.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Why did you make me wait so long?" LeBlanc murmured into his chest as she lay sprawled across his body.
He didn't answer, only tightening his arm around her with a wordless shushing sound. He was content to feel the buzz of her lips against him as she spoke, to breath in the fragrance of her skin. Her response had been surprising. He knew that she had said she wanted his body but that had seemed a joke, a mocking way to prod him into a reaction in those darkest of his days. Perhaps she had spoken only the truth, that there was something about him, broken as he was, that touched her desires, stoked her passions. The fleeting impulse to father his son upon her crossed his mind, only to be instantly suppressed. He would not, could not, do that without her consent and understanding. She would have to be told all that bearing his child, particularly a boy, entailed and he had to be sure that this night was not just a momentary aberration on her part.
He raised himself on his right elbow and looked at her, all of her, as she lay loose-limbed in her fulfillment, her eyes half-closed, her breath slow and even. With his insensate hand, he began to stroke her rhythmically from breast to hip. She turned toward him lazily, seeking his body, running her tongue along the path on his smooth chest, the border between feeling and numbness. Once again, he felt that strange sensation of almost feeling from a place where there was no possibility of feeling, that almost sensed touch which excited him more than any other.
LeBlanc's eyes fluttered open and her hands continued the caress her mouth had begun. With intense care, she explored him, touching every part of his body with increasing excitement. He thought he could feel her fingers on his arm, his leg, his groin and beyond. In a welter of sensation, he could no longer distinguish what he actually felt and what he wanted so desperately to feel. With a groan, he moved inside her again and felt her encompass his length in her warmth.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Again they lay closely entwined, their desires sated. This time had lasted longer, much longer and ended in an explosion of such intensity as to leave the both of them drained. His arm and leg imprisoned her and she wriggled happily, snuggling ever closer and surveying him from under her eyelashes. He seemed asleep with closed eyes and regular breathing.
"I love you," she whispered. It was barely a sound, more of an exhalation.
Nooj heard her. He was not asleep but it served his purposes to let her think so. He did not want to talk at this time, particularly not about love, which played no part in his philosophy. In other relationships, he had learned that love did not always mean what it seemed – that lovers needed to learn a common language before communication could truly begin. In spite of her protestations, he still entertained the possibility that he was merely her latest novelty. No, this night was his; he had earned it.
In his mind and body he was relishing the sensation of completeness, of normalcy that had eluded him since he woke into his new and unwelcome life. He was seized with a flood of gratitude toward the woman who had made this possible, who had given him this gift. For the first time in years, he actually contemplated a future – even one as close as the coming morning – and the next night. Tightening his arm about her, he let himself drift into the sleep that lurked just on the edge of his mind.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
She loved the look of the black glove against her white skin. Shivering deliciously, she surreptitiously watched it move across her breasts, pausing to gently tweak a nipple then continuing its journey in the dim light of the early morning. She tried to remain perfectly still so that he wouldn't stop but found it impossible.
"Open your eyes, LeBlanc. I know you're awake." There was an unfamiliar laugh in his voice.
She squeezed her lids more tightly shut. "If I wake up, you'll stop."
"I won't stop. Promise."
"You can stop if you promise..."
"Promise what?"
"You know..."
Nooj laughed aloud. "I promise." His hand brushed against the golden fleece and did not stop.
"Not that" she slid her own hand between them and reached, "This."
"Ah" He sighed deeply as he moved decisively toward her. "I don't want to hurt you."
"It's all right. I want..." her voice tapered off into a long cooing moan.
The two figures merged into one and there were no more words nor need for them.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
When she woke again, she was alone in the bed. She stretched luxuriously like a cat and burrowed more deeply into the gloriously rumpled nest of the sheets. She felt wonderful and triumphant, content to the limits of her ability to feel happiness.
"Here I am where I wanted to be – in Nooj's bed," she chortled as she hugged herself. "He finally stopped resisting me and I think he's glad of it. I certainly tried to make him happy."
Smiling privately as the memory of the night and the morning danced in her mind, she recalled his touch; he was so much more than she had fantasized: strong, tender, fierce, gentle. It had been worth the wait – more than worth it. She had him, now if only she could keep him. LeBlanc breathed deeply, inhaling his scent from the bedding. She was immediately aroused again.
"I'm afraid I'm addicted to him," she giggled behind her hand. "How can I possibly wait for tonight? Don't suppose he'll come back to bed again this morning. It would be fun if he did. No, rethink that – I don't think I could survive another round with him right now. ... There's always tonight. I wonder if he impregnated me – it's my fertile time and I didn't try to avoid it. I wouldn't mind having his child; he'd have to stay with me then..."
She had felt so small in his embrace – like a pet or a toy that he cuddled for comforting companionship. No, more than companionship, she reminded herself; he was no querulous child in his passions but a lion of a man, possessing her completely in every sense. Not just her body but also her very soul had responded to him, belonged to him. The memory of his caresses continued to enflame her and she clutched them as she had held the man himself only a few hours before. Her eyes lost their focus as she re- created the events that she had dreamed about for so long.
All at once, a powerful sense of misgiving seized her. Had she told him about the Crimson Squad, that group formed to reconstitute the Crusaders? She had meant to keep that tidbit for another time but, in the night, his blandishments might have gotten the news from her. She couldn't remember. There were too many other memories in the way and she had been drunk on desire the entire night. Dismissing her doubts, she snuggled into the nest he had made and returned to her delicious recollections