Hopefully this is that happy that CSINut214 was talking about.
Oblivion stole her away in her sleep.
The whirr of the fan would lull her off, cool air skating over her skin like an absent lover's kiss.
Absent, one couldn't be absent if you were never, ever there. But he was now; he was there with her, with her all the way.
In the delicate light of the dawning day she would succumb to him so very easily. There was no pretense there, no time for distractions or second thoughts. Her body, open and warm was his to take for as long as he needed. She'd float along on a delicate cloud and end up somewhere that she wanted to call heaven.
He'd always be waiting for her there beyond the border of the realistic. It was a space where she could let her hair down and kiss him just because she felt like it. Justification had no real place in that delicate figment where she could kiss him and laugh about it, revel in it.
With him, in her head, there was no warm breeze, no passion-filled sunset; there was nothing so cliché as to take away from the beauty of him within her. There was a bed, an endless bed and then nothing; everything else, the background noise, the setting, the light... it was all gray. Everything but the two of them was so awash with gray that she thought she was out at sea.
Magnificence in his eyes, so bright and blue, taking her gaze and locking it away, deep within him. Damn, that hue was constantly her undoing. If he were a crayon, he'd constantly be used to paint the sky, to color the ocean. Grissom would have had to be sharpened repeatedly because he was so spectacular and rich and Sara envisioned herself sneakily stealing all the sticks of him from all the crayon boxes just so she wouldn't run out.
It was her time now; she could hoard him, gather him to herself and keep him. She'd claim that he was her life raft, if she let him go, she would drown.
Cast away, no lifeboats to come around, they were out to sea on such a wave that there was no crashing, no crest, no tumult. It was all long and fluid and lovely, all passion and fire. The love that flared between them, holding them up was this incomprehensible thing, something that filled them both with hope.
It was both a dream and a nightmare, something sweet like a candied confection but as bitter as stale ale and made her toggle between life and death. The pleasure was overwhelming, making her heart beat once again and then stopping it before skipping it to life once more. She'd die a thousand times to feel that wonderful crashing once more.
Obfuscation, her mind one dark tunnel, pulling her through a million different scenarios, all ending with him loving her over and over until she wept for forever to finally arrive. God if forever could just happen, if she could taste it, feel it, she would know that this feeling was for real, that the feeling as endless. Endless could be forever, that was a heady thought even as he laughed and laughed and kissed her endlessly.
But nothing was as endless as his eyes, nothing so deep and blue. They were nothing like the ocean. No, they were forgiving and loving and if she weren't drowning in the everlasting plane of her dreamscape she would surely find herself lost in him.
Infinity went as far into the past as it reached into the future and she could not remember a time she did not love him; she could not remember a time when she didn't know what he didn't feel like inside of her. He was so full and purposeful; his strokes-much like his eyes-were sure and loving.
Happiness was a dictionary entry that defied defining for her. So many moments accumulated in her head brought her endless enjoyment, fulfillment. She was happy to sit on the floor of the parlor in her mind and thumb through pages in the thesaurus, finding big, complex words for happiness and love. The words filled her up when he was away.
If she was happy then she was so very many, many adjectives and nouns and verbs.
And he, he was more than she had bargained for; no matter how many times she'd envisioned them rising and falling, breathing together, it could never stand up to the real, overcoming intensity of him touching her. It could never stand up to the image of him swimming between her thighs, diving into her mouth, a tsunami of everything she ever needed.
Deluge, a sweet rush that overcame her but dried up every time; every time, he left her needing more and she loved it.
Sara was parched for him, dried up, wanting until he came to her again and left her lush and green for seconds before retreating again.
But she still had him, she had him.
A million different times and places then, candles and wine, rain and snow, ice and fire and love, love came full force in so many forms that her breath was truly taken from her body. He took it all from her and she watched it go willingly, gave it off as a gift. She'd gone so many places in her head, made love to him far away and close at home. She'd had him on her table, on her floor, in her shower. God, she'd had him so many places that she began to lose count, time and place crumbling away to simple sensations.
Most times, it ended the same... with him tucking her beneath his chin, hiding her from everything and everyone, making her his own. That was where she wanted to live out the end of her days, in that warm, soft embrace that smelled, tasted, felt of home.
She came to, something warm and moist and so very enticing on her skin, pulling her out of her dream world. The room was bright buttercup yellow although the walls were a rich scarlet. No, all she wanted to do was fall back to her pillow and have him hold her again.
She awoke to his lips tracing up her arm, pausing at the hollow of her neck and shoulder to linger. "I missed you," he breathed. God, his eyes, his face, his hair, scent, skin, smile. It was all there in front of her for the taking, so she took it... with her lips, teeth and tongue.
"Oh god, I missed you too."