*shuffles into room uncomfortably*
Ummm... hey guys. Yeah, that story I was writing, well I am still writing it,
even though it's been a little while. A big while. A huge while. Anyway I'm
really sorry again about the long delay, but here is chapter 16. I hope you
enjoy it. And to keep you happy, it has fluff :)
Chapter 16: Flesh and Blood
Ozan's house was in complete darkness when we returned, and only now did we realise that it had no electric lights. Fortunately I had my flashlight, and with its aid we were able to locate matches and enough oil lamps to find our way around. It was surprisingly cool after sunset, and Kurtis decided to light the stove in the living room.
There had been a slightly awkward atmosphere between us since we left the restaurant. The laid-back, flirtatious manner Kurtis had used earlier was gone, replaced with thoughtful silence. Lighting a fire gave him something to focus on other than our conversation over dinner. I sat down in a faded leather chair and started to clean my pistols. Like the fire, it wasn't really necessary, but I wanted to distract myself from the thought of another long night all alone with him. It didn't work, of course. I couldn't help wondering what Kurtis had been about to say when Ozan had called and interrupted him. For a psychic, our new friend had a bloody awful sense of timing.
I looked up from my guns to watch Kurtis, who was crouched down beside the old iron stove as he bundled firewood into it from a basket nearby. His back was to me, and I watched the muscles moving under the fabric of his shirt as he worked. I thought again of the black tattoo. Clearly Ozan was interested in it too, although for slightly different reasons than my own.
"Kurtis?" I asked, hesitantly.
"Yeah?" He turned to face me.
I took a deep breath. "Can I see it? Your tattoo?" I felt my cheeks burning as I spoke, and hoped he wouldn't notice in the poor light from the lamps.
There was a pause, and then: "Of course."
"Thankyou," I replied. "I just - I'm interested to see it. Ancient languages fascinate me." My voice sounded calm enough, but I doubted I was fooling anyone.
Kurtis finished lighting the fire in silence, then closed the stove door and stood up, glancing over his shoulder at me.
"Don't be trying to take advantage of me, okay?" he teased. He reached up and pulled his t-shirt over his head. I set my guns down on the table beside the chair, and got up. Now that I had an excuse to look at Kurtis' body this closely I wasn't going to waste it, so I stepped closer to him to see the design more clearly in the lamplight.
"What does it mean?"
"I don't know exactly. They're symbols of the Lux Veritatis. They mean – well, it's sort of an oath. In flesh and blood as well as word and mind. It's supposed to bind them all together and make the warrior stronger."
The stove was doing its job; the room suddenly felt a great deal warmer. I lifted a tentative hand and put my fingertips to Kurtis' back. Slowly I moved them along the winding patterns that marked the skin between his shoulder blades and trailed down his left side. "When did you have it done?" I asked.
"When I was sixteen. It was a part of my initiation. It was all done in one session, with old-fashioned needles, and nothing to stop the pain."
"My God. How long did it take?"
"I don't remember. I lost track of time. A day and a night I think. Maybe longer. When one guy was too tired to carry on, another took over. I was hallucinating by the time they finished."
"It must have been a terrible ordeal for someone so young," I said in awe.
"It was agony," he replied. "But that was the point, I guess. Test my mental resilience. The mind is the most important weapon to the Lux Veritatis."
I was still tracing the coiled patterns with my fingers, hypnotised by the intricate markings and the warm flesh beneath them. "For what it's worth, it's very beautiful."
He looked over his shoulder at me. His eyes were soft. "Well then, it was worth it."
I smiled, and moved my hand down his back. I lightly touched the scar to the right of his spine, the souvenir of his fight with that Boaz creature in the Strahov. Just an inch to the left and he would have been paralysed. Other smaller scars were visible here and there, and made slight dips or ridges beneath my fingers. And then there were the bruises, inflicted by Karel, changing slowly from purple to black and mingling with the tattoo that he had been tortured with as a very young man. I felt a sudden wave of sadness for him. So much pain, etched onto one body. Years of it. He had suffered in so many ways. I wished I could soak it up through my hands and take some of it away. I had my own share of scars, but I had at least chosen the dangerous life I led. Kurtis hadn't been so lucky. I leaned closer and kissed his back softly, between his shoulder blades. I felt him shiver slightly as my lips met his skin, and I kept kissing him, across his shoulders and the back of his neck. An unexpected tear escaped and slid down my face, but I ignored it. I moved my hands down his sides, onto his hips, and round to his stomach. I felt for the scar there, and brushed my fingers over it gently. He turned in my loose embrace until I could feel his breath warm on my face, mere inches between us. I waited for his kiss, but instead he spoke.
"Turn around." I looked at him questioningly, but did as he said.
Facing away from him, I felt his hands brush against my back, warm waves spreading through me at this slightest contact. Slowly he started to unravel the long braid that hung almost to my waist. After an initial moment of surprise, I realised that he had never seen me with my hair loose. I had even kept it braided when I went to bed the night before. I loved my hair, which was why I chose to tie it back rather than have it cut off, but it was another part of me that I kept hidden away, unseen and untouched by others. Kurtis didn't just want to be close to me now, he wanted to see me. See all of me. As he teased it loose, I felt as though I had never been touched so intimately before. He swept his fingers close to my scalp, spreading the hair loosely about my shoulders.
I turned back slowly. He kept his hands on my hair, enjoying the feel of it. He looked me over intently with his dark blue eyes.
"My God," he said softly. "Lady Lara Croft."
My pulse was fluttering along with the butterflies in my stomach. I had never felt so nervous in my life, or so desperate for someone. Keeping his eyes locked on mine he ran his hands over my shoulders and down my bare arms, reminding me of our first contact in the Louvre, when he had disarmed me in more ways than one. His touch was warm but my skin tingled against it, raising in goosebumps. All the while his eyes were locked hungrily on mine. There had been a time when I was afraid to be caught in that gaze, scared of what it could mean, but now I found myself unfolding gently within it like an exotic flower bathed in sunlight. His hand reached my waist, and I felt his thumbs brush teasingly under the hem of my vest top. He tugged at the fabric, and I raised my arms for him to pull the garment over my head. As he dropped it to the floor, I hooked a hand around his belt and dragged him even closer to me so our warm bodies were touching. He took my head between his hands, and at long last his mouth was on mine.
We finished undressing each other eagerly but slowly, exploring with hungry hands and eyes, wanting to savour every delicious moment of contact. We couldn't know what the coming days held; nothing was certain. I wanted to treat each kiss, each caress as if it were the last, etch every burning second into my memory. I pulled him down onto the floor with me, and there, on a sheepskin rug in the fading lamplight, we let the desire that had been building in us for so long carry us on into the warm Turkish night.
* * *
:o So, there you go. Please review if you're not still too mad at me! I'm on my Easter holidays so I have more time to write, I'll see what I can do about a new chapter soon. Thank you so much for all the reviews for the last chapter. HUGS ALL ROUND! x
Chapter 16: Flesh and Blood
Ozan's house was in complete darkness when we returned, and only now did we realise that it had no electric lights. Fortunately I had my flashlight, and with its aid we were able to locate matches and enough oil lamps to find our way around. It was surprisingly cool after sunset, and Kurtis decided to light the stove in the living room.
There had been a slightly awkward atmosphere between us since we left the restaurant. The laid-back, flirtatious manner Kurtis had used earlier was gone, replaced with thoughtful silence. Lighting a fire gave him something to focus on other than our conversation over dinner. I sat down in a faded leather chair and started to clean my pistols. Like the fire, it wasn't really necessary, but I wanted to distract myself from the thought of another long night all alone with him. It didn't work, of course. I couldn't help wondering what Kurtis had been about to say when Ozan had called and interrupted him. For a psychic, our new friend had a bloody awful sense of timing.
I looked up from my guns to watch Kurtis, who was crouched down beside the old iron stove as he bundled firewood into it from a basket nearby. His back was to me, and I watched the muscles moving under the fabric of his shirt as he worked. I thought again of the black tattoo. Clearly Ozan was interested in it too, although for slightly different reasons than my own.
"Kurtis?" I asked, hesitantly.
"Yeah?" He turned to face me.
I took a deep breath. "Can I see it? Your tattoo?" I felt my cheeks burning as I spoke, and hoped he wouldn't notice in the poor light from the lamps.
There was a pause, and then: "Of course."
"Thankyou," I replied. "I just - I'm interested to see it. Ancient languages fascinate me." My voice sounded calm enough, but I doubted I was fooling anyone.
Kurtis finished lighting the fire in silence, then closed the stove door and stood up, glancing over his shoulder at me.
"Don't be trying to take advantage of me, okay?" he teased. He reached up and pulled his t-shirt over his head. I set my guns down on the table beside the chair, and got up. Now that I had an excuse to look at Kurtis' body this closely I wasn't going to waste it, so I stepped closer to him to see the design more clearly in the lamplight.
"What does it mean?"
"I don't know exactly. They're symbols of the Lux Veritatis. They mean – well, it's sort of an oath. In flesh and blood as well as word and mind. It's supposed to bind them all together and make the warrior stronger."
The stove was doing its job; the room suddenly felt a great deal warmer. I lifted a tentative hand and put my fingertips to Kurtis' back. Slowly I moved them along the winding patterns that marked the skin between his shoulder blades and trailed down his left side. "When did you have it done?" I asked.
"When I was sixteen. It was a part of my initiation. It was all done in one session, with old-fashioned needles, and nothing to stop the pain."
"My God. How long did it take?"
"I don't remember. I lost track of time. A day and a night I think. Maybe longer. When one guy was too tired to carry on, another took over. I was hallucinating by the time they finished."
"It must have been a terrible ordeal for someone so young," I said in awe.
"It was agony," he replied. "But that was the point, I guess. Test my mental resilience. The mind is the most important weapon to the Lux Veritatis."
I was still tracing the coiled patterns with my fingers, hypnotised by the intricate markings and the warm flesh beneath them. "For what it's worth, it's very beautiful."
He looked over his shoulder at me. His eyes were soft. "Well then, it was worth it."
I smiled, and moved my hand down his back. I lightly touched the scar to the right of his spine, the souvenir of his fight with that Boaz creature in the Strahov. Just an inch to the left and he would have been paralysed. Other smaller scars were visible here and there, and made slight dips or ridges beneath my fingers. And then there were the bruises, inflicted by Karel, changing slowly from purple to black and mingling with the tattoo that he had been tortured with as a very young man. I felt a sudden wave of sadness for him. So much pain, etched onto one body. Years of it. He had suffered in so many ways. I wished I could soak it up through my hands and take some of it away. I had my own share of scars, but I had at least chosen the dangerous life I led. Kurtis hadn't been so lucky. I leaned closer and kissed his back softly, between his shoulder blades. I felt him shiver slightly as my lips met his skin, and I kept kissing him, across his shoulders and the back of his neck. An unexpected tear escaped and slid down my face, but I ignored it. I moved my hands down his sides, onto his hips, and round to his stomach. I felt for the scar there, and brushed my fingers over it gently. He turned in my loose embrace until I could feel his breath warm on my face, mere inches between us. I waited for his kiss, but instead he spoke.
"Turn around." I looked at him questioningly, but did as he said.
Facing away from him, I felt his hands brush against my back, warm waves spreading through me at this slightest contact. Slowly he started to unravel the long braid that hung almost to my waist. After an initial moment of surprise, I realised that he had never seen me with my hair loose. I had even kept it braided when I went to bed the night before. I loved my hair, which was why I chose to tie it back rather than have it cut off, but it was another part of me that I kept hidden away, unseen and untouched by others. Kurtis didn't just want to be close to me now, he wanted to see me. See all of me. As he teased it loose, I felt as though I had never been touched so intimately before. He swept his fingers close to my scalp, spreading the hair loosely about my shoulders.
I turned back slowly. He kept his hands on my hair, enjoying the feel of it. He looked me over intently with his dark blue eyes.
"My God," he said softly. "Lady Lara Croft."
My pulse was fluttering along with the butterflies in my stomach. I had never felt so nervous in my life, or so desperate for someone. Keeping his eyes locked on mine he ran his hands over my shoulders and down my bare arms, reminding me of our first contact in the Louvre, when he had disarmed me in more ways than one. His touch was warm but my skin tingled against it, raising in goosebumps. All the while his eyes were locked hungrily on mine. There had been a time when I was afraid to be caught in that gaze, scared of what it could mean, but now I found myself unfolding gently within it like an exotic flower bathed in sunlight. His hand reached my waist, and I felt his thumbs brush teasingly under the hem of my vest top. He tugged at the fabric, and I raised my arms for him to pull the garment over my head. As he dropped it to the floor, I hooked a hand around his belt and dragged him even closer to me so our warm bodies were touching. He took my head between his hands, and at long last his mouth was on mine.
We finished undressing each other eagerly but slowly, exploring with hungry hands and eyes, wanting to savour every delicious moment of contact. We couldn't know what the coming days held; nothing was certain. I wanted to treat each kiss, each caress as if it were the last, etch every burning second into my memory. I pulled him down onto the floor with me, and there, on a sheepskin rug in the fading lamplight, we let the desire that had been building in us for so long carry us on into the warm Turkish night.
* * *
:o So, there you go. Please review if you're not still too mad at me! I'm on my Easter holidays so I have more time to write, I'll see what I can do about a new chapter soon. Thank you so much for all the reviews for the last chapter. HUGS ALL ROUND! x