FYI: Chapter includes sex.
Author's Note: This chapter may be one of my favourite things I've ever written. Hope you enjoy.
It is extremely dark. Even the rose gold twinkle lights that she left on before bed are extinguished. The apartment is devoid of the usual whirrings and hums of modern life. Penelope doesn't know if it is the silence or the dark or something else that woke her, but a weak band moonshine reveals Luke in sillouette - stone still - gazing out at the city through the slit between her curtains.
The floor is ice cold on Penelope's bare toes as she silently pads over to the window. The cool air kisses her skin - raising goosebumps and a shiver until she slips her arms around her lover's middle and his arms come around her.
"More than a foot of snow has fallen. It looks like the power is out across the neighbourhood."
His voice is low and flat. Penelope looks up into his shadowed tight mask of an expression. The surreal dark brightness of the winter night glints at the corner of his eys - caught by a the prism of the single tear which brims then rolls its way down over the tense plains of his bearded cheek.
Penelope is viscerally aware of the excruciating sensation that tears can cause if left to follow their own paths. Letting her tears fall unstemmed - especially when they are large hot slow agonizing drops of sadness or shame - was one of her personal acts of martyrdom. An accessible form of self-flagellation or sometimes it was the only weapon she at her disposal against someone who had brought her pain.
Penelope reaches up and wipes away the tear track with her thumb. Cupping his dear face her hand. He turns into her - pressing a kiss against her palm. His gaze is shuttered by lids heavy with exhausted emotion.
"Come back to bed. We may not be together forever but we are together now - and I am so thankful. Luke, let me hold you until you've fallen back to sleep - you need sleep."
Mutely, Luke nods and lets her lead him across the room overtop his side of the bed - she scoots in first - scouching over to prop herself up on her pillows - then she draws him into the bed so that his head rests against her chest and her arms are wrapped around him. As she pulls up the covers over them - she is poignantly aware of his warmth and beauty - his skin smooth and his body heavy and his goodness palpable. Penelope nuzzles his curls - inhaling the spiciness of the shampoo and his own musky nighttime scent - as she tries to imprint every aspect of this moment indelibly in her memory.
Almost without thought she starts to croon slow and tunelessly - the lullaby that falls from her lips is a beloved favourite that her mother used to sing. Her mother had loved The Muppets' Movie and in particular opening song. As one does - Penelope hums some bits and bobbles a few words half singing half speaking her way through the lyrics - holding this man as she wills him to surrender again to sleep.
Why are there so many songs about rainbows and what's on the other side?
Luke nuzzles her gently - encouraging his rainbow woman to continue. She can feel him slowly unknitting again as her palm slowly rub circles across his broad back.
Like her mother, Penelope sings the next bit in another voice - a slightly antagonistic stubborn character...hitting the only and the nothing hard..making it clear this is a belittling narrow minded perspective...
Rainbows are visions but only illusions and rainbows have nothing to hide.
Then she answers - gently now - in her own voice...
so we've been told and some choose to believe it...But I know they're wrong, wait and seeeee
Penelope stills as she comes to the chorus - infusing the words with unspoken wishes and hopes.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection - for lovers - and dreamers and meee...
Luke is drowsily aware of Penelope's song - aware that she is giving him another gift - then as she starts the next verse like many before him he is dragged forward into hope by the hypnotic pull of melody.
Who said that every wish - would be heard and be answered - when wished on the morning star?
Somebody thought of that - and someone believed it - look what it's done so far...
What's so amazing that keeps us stargazing?
And what do we think we might see?
Luke's soul chuckles as he marvels at the pathos inherent in a song written to be sung by a frog playing a banjo.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection - the lovers, the dreamers and we.
All of us under its spell.
We know that it's probably maaaagic.
Magic. Luke is more of a believer than he'll usually admit...especially recently. He has a suspicion that Penelope has that affect on people.
Have you been half asleep? And have you heard voices? I've heard them calling my name...Is this the sweet sound.that calls the young soldiers?
Penelope falters as she realises she's changed sailor to soldier because of who Luke is... his breathing has steadied and she thinks he may now be asleep...she could stop...but the song wills her to finish what she started.
I've heard it too many times to ignore it..it's something that I'm supposed to be...
There is only one chorus left...but Penelope has nothing left. He is asleep anyways. It is her turn to sit awake and keep a vigil.
But Luke is not asleep.
As the silence wraps around them - he tightens his grip around her and then tilts his face to hers - stretching up to capture her lips with his. He lifts himself up then onto his knees so that he can tangle a hand in her hair and meet her eyes in the darkness and then whispers the last chorus to her:
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection - for lovers, for dreamers, and...
He cuts himself off by kissing her again - pulling his Penelope over him as he rolls back onto the pillows - fingers looped in her curls. She tastes of peppermint toothpaste and song.
As the kiss deepens and he sinks into the softness of the bed - Luke circles her with his arms - trailing his finger tips from the nape of her neck down her spine and back up to mindlessly sketch outlines of wings across her back.
Penelope holds herself up - most of her weight held by one hand planted on the pillow beside his head while her other hand curls against his chest. The taught nubs of her nipples graze against him as her breasts pendulum - their wake a fiery scoring of sensation.
Penelope's insides ignite in answer- a bonfire kindling at her core - fed by their mouths ranging and seeking. The darkness heightens the furor of their touches. She strokes his tongue with her own and he returns caress for caress - a languorous intimate attenuated tangle.
Kissing Luke is nourishingly addictive - indulgently wholesome. It is heady and essential. The sweet softness of his mouth and the tickle of his beard intoxicate her. Penelope has the urge to never ever stop. She adores how he is both straining up to meet her and pulling her closer - his hands on her back feel divine and - oh - when he cups her bottom before dragging his touch back up to her shoulders - she takes her turn to push back into him.
Penelope tingles with want and love.
Suddenly - Luke pulls back for a breath and asks in a deep rasping voice something he's been wondering for weeks.
"Penelope - what do you - what should I call this in my head? Out loud? The words I have in English and Spanish never seem quite right - too clinical or ugly or flimsy or ridiculous. What do you like?"
He pairs his question with a fondling touch to the slick flesh between her thighs - clarifying any vagueness in his words.
It is so dark that Penelope feels brave enough to answer - first wordlessly thanking him for the question with another deep kiss made wide by his his fingers gently playing around her clit - then quietly but with her usual rush of words...
"We should maybe review the Spanish options sometime...because well you speaking Spanish is...um..very sexy."
Penelope blushes - thankful for the shadows as he whispers.
"Eres increíble y hermosa y estoy muy contenta de estar aquí contigo."
They fall back into kisses then until Penelope gasps out...his fingers occasionally interrupting the flow of her words with a caress...
"You'll have to tell me what that means later...but back to your...um...question...no one has ever asked me that and...oh...and I totally...ah..ah...agree with you about the words we have...they are good for...ahh.. jokes... or maybe for...oh...you know more...more... choreographed...um... athletic...ah... rec...aah...reational sex...which totally is ...aw...awesome...but is...ah...not always...ah...the...thing-oh-oh -oh ...but for ...mmm...love mm...loving ah sex...they just don't sound right. "
Luke stills.
"That. That is exactly the problem I have been having. So what is the solution? Mi Preciosa? I know you've thought of one."
They laugh in the darkness - tumbling back into more kisses until Penelope pulls away to finish her answer - Luke stills because he really is curious.
"I have three. One is just silly but I like it...it's from a one-man-show I saw where one of the characters called it a hoonannykoochoo. Which is strangely wonderful and I often use that in my head - so you are welcome to use it too and - since it's from the theatre - it's art. But probably not good for um this type of situation..."
"Hoonannykoochoo? That is ridiculous but I like it..." his voice darkens "... especially if you do."
Penelope feels his smile as she kisses him again and then tops the kiss with a smile and a laughed whispered catch phrase that came along with the word in the show...:
"You think lady don't like that...but she do."
Penelope promises herself to explain more about the show and context later - just for the pure joy of it - but not now because they are kissing again.
This time it is Luke who pulls back before he loses completely the train of their conversation...although he can't help but punctuate each word of his question with a kiss.
"What *lips* are *cheek* the *cheek* other *lips* two?*tip of the nose*"
A deep kiss and then Penelope's answers:
"Well...when I embraced all things British when we went to visit Emily across the pond - I kinda fell in love with two words - fanny since it's a bit of a secret over here...since most people think it's a polite way to say ass...oh stop that...but in England...it... fanny I mean...is quite rude and means...well...but I...I think quim is my very favourite - it is also considered quite vulgar and originally Victorian but it really isn't used much over here and it goes so nicely with cock and is somehow both strong and feminine and sexy. What do you think?"
"Quim."
His rough voice tastes the word as he brushes his fingers firmly across her clit - then dipping up and into her...her...quim.
She's right - of course - the word feels strong but soft...short and sweet and...perhaps more than anything...for him at least it is in no way associated with vulgarity or any of violence either of them have seen.
Quim - while it has a touch of mystery - is not some new-agey spiritualism that makes him uncomfortable.
The word also moves - tied somehow in his brain to quiver and shimmer and whim.
It is a magnificent choice. At least for between them.
Just what he has been searching for.
"Perfect."
And their mouths meet again. Hands and tongues seek and caress - on and on in the darkness. Penelope's body dips and his rises - cock and quim meet and dance - greet - slide against each other...circle...
Neither lover is purposeful in their movements. Neither wielding any part of their body deliberately as a tool for giving pleasure. Neither is trying to play their lover's body like a well tuned instrument chasing a crescendo.
Instead, both are just acting and reacting...drowning in instinct...
There is no detachment...no thinking or analysing or second guessing...just movement and touch and emotion and sensation...so each place they join flows with give and take...
They keep kissing...and kissing...and kissing...and kissing...and kissing...and kissing...kissing...kissing...kiss...
Eventually, Penelope's hips tilt just so and the tip of Luke's cock slips into her quim - the word still feels so right it makes him smile to think it... then just as simply his cocks slips free and they circle and then - again - just the tip slips inside...sweet and simple...
While each is aware of this new and intimate joining - their focus stays somehow on the kissing - their roving hands - but then their hips move again in concert and he is within her.
Fully.
Deeply.
It is the first time he has truly been inside her with no condom and fuzzily she thinks of the last time they were together - just before the last case - when he insisted they make this choice mindfully and this moment is as far from mindful as one might be...eyes wide she breaks the kiss...
"Luke!"
"S'ok. If you? We...talked...enough...waited...I thought this week..."
"OK. As long as..."
"S'ok"
And so he stays buried in her as he pulls her down for another unending kiss.
The feeling of this joining is new for them - so often kisses complement the thrust and jive of intercourse - but this time the kisses are everything while cock inside quim is the extension - a side show of the dance and play of lips and teeth and tongues - of hands in hair - on cheeks - on skin...
It is the kisses that increase in intensity - bringing the uproars inside of them to the point of clamour.
They barely move their hips - and when they do they follow each other so that there is never more than a hum between them. Instead of the counterpoint of joyous jousting thrusts - she holds him deep inside her - he presses up against her - they pulse and quiver and tighten but it is the kisses - the kisses - that bring them closer and closer...until...until...
The explosion detonates at their lips - rolling and coursing down their bodies - chasing itself where flesh presses flesh - tangling with their limbs.
With a hue and a cry swallowed by the other - they stiffen - mouths gaping and mashing against each other in an open mawed orgasm - their arms around each other - holding tight - impossibly close as they roll onto their sides - it is then that the tension contracts to almost nothing and then they combust in a final clap of internal thunder and strike of winter lightning - pushed over the edge. Luke surges into her - Penelope floods around him - and once again they are one - cleaved into a single soul - a unique being born of light and love.
As though in celebration their union - at the summit - at the tip top of all they feel and are...
The power hums.
The rose gold lights twinkle back on.
...and so they are wreathed in a halo of light as the feelings ebb and their bodies relax.
Spent and solaced Penelope and Luke find their way back to sleep - wrapped around each other - safe and sound.
Author's Notes:
Rainbow Connection was written by Paul Williams and Kenneth Ascher - originally sung by Jim Henson as Kermit the Frog in The Muppet Movie, 1978.
Hoonanykoochoo was coined by the amazing playwright and performer Kurt Fitzpatrick for his touring production of the quirky underground cult hit "The Last Straight Man in Theatre" - which I had the pleasure to attend once upon a Fringe Festival...for more info please see:
https//