Author's Notes: This was inspired by the poem below. It doesn't fully represent what Keats meant, but it does incorporate the idea of being in a sweet unrest forever. It was also inspired by the song by Bjork called Generous Palmstroke. Beautiful song! Anyhow, it is Tumnus X Lucy pair, enjoy and please review!
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art--
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--
No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever--or else swoon to death.
-Keats
She has synchronized her self with me. I breathe, my chest rises and falls and she exhales slowly.
"It is quiet today," I say, and her doe eyes are half lidded in a mysterious ecstasy. I'm curious to find out what causes such a serene expression upon her porcelain face, but I am hushed.
"Shh, old friend, I am listening," she sighs, pressing her glowing cheek to my bare fleshed chest.
Too curious, am I, and with cautious movement I drown my fingers in her pool of mahogany curls, splayed across my arm. "Listening?"
She smiles now, but does not answer.
Bomp bomp bomp
I wonder if she can hear my core roaring, for it beats so fast under my bones that I tremble. She feels this, craves this, and calms this with a kiss here and a kiss there over my screaming heart.
"Do you hear that?" asks she, lowering her thick lashes completely to hide her soul from me. She wants to hear what I have to say, not hear what I can see.
So, I quiet myself, though it is hard to grow still with her fingertips dancing along my side carelessly. I listen, even slowing my breath to make sure I can hear.
Bomp Bomp Bomp
Bomp Bomp Bomp
I don't simply hear it, I feel it. My free hand comes to rest upon the curve of her neck, my thumb gently pressed against an unhurried pulse of life. She can see my eyes widen, my lips curl like a ribbon into a secret smile.
We rest this way, her core and mine alike in their rhythms. We rest this way, our bodies synchronized, our very souls laced together in harmony.
"Yes, Lucy, I hear that," I reply, finally allowing air to be expelled from my lungs.
"We are the same, Tumnus," says she, curling her slender fingers around my calloused hand.