IX Let Beauty Awake
Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams,
Beauty awake from rest!
Let Beauty awake
For Beauty's sake
In the hour when the birds awake in the brake
And the stars are bright in the west!
Let Beauty awake in the eve from the slumber of day,
Awake in the crimson eve!
In the day's dusk end
When the shades ascend,
Let her wake to the kiss of a tender friend
To render again and receive!
xXx
Crane slowly blinks his eyes open. They flutter closed immediately, not willing to accept that he is awake. He is still tired and a little disoriented, and for a moment, experiences the same feeling he had on his first morning in this century. The hazy, slightly disconnected, I-don't-know-where-I-am feeling.
Except, this time, he feels… good. Tired, yes, but a good tired. And warm. Content.
Satisfied.
He adjusts, cuddling deeper into the bed, pulling the pillow clutched in his arms closer to his chest.
The pillow feels different this morning. It also softly sighs.
Miss Mills. Abbie.
A slow smile creeps across Crane's face as he remembers.
He remembers her lush lips moving against his. Her sweet, sly tongue tangling with his. Her soft skin under his hands. Her breasts, perfect, malleable, and responsive to his every touch. How her brown skin shone gold in the candlelight, like that of an Ancient Egyptian goddess. Her beautiful, dark brown eyes gazing into his, mining the depths of his soul until his every emotion was laid bare before her.
Crane never imagined that firm, toned muscles would feel so good under his hands. Women were supposed to be soft, pliant. Yielding. But, the sensation of Abbie's strong body, conditioned by police work, was a thing of wonder. Strong and alluring at once.
Her flat stomach with its barely-defined muscles jumping as his lips traced them. Her strong back and shoulders, flexing beneath his splayed palms as she rode him like she had spent years in the saddle. The long, firm muscles of her thighs, clad in skin that feels like the softest silk, as they wrapped themselves around his waist, holding him tightly, almost threatening to snap him in half as she reached the pinnacle of ecstasy.
So different. So amazingly wonderful. So unbelievable that Crane is afraid to open his eyes lest the previous night was just a fevered dream and his beautiful treasure is not truly here in his arms.
So completely different.
His heart broke when Katrina died, willingly returning to Purgatory to await her Judgment.
Miss Mills mended his heart, rendering it whole again. No. Rendering it better than it was. Stronger, for being joined with hers.
He angles his head downward, tucking his nose into her neck to inhale her scent. He presses his lips to her shoulder to taste her skin. His arm tightens around her waist, pulling her closer, to feel her body pressed against his.
His manhood twitches against her firm, rounded backside, and she sighs again in her sleep.
Awake, my beauty. Awake so that I might know you again. Awake so that I might gaze into your dark eyes until I lose all that I am in you. Awake, my love.
He wants to let her sleep, because she deserves all the rest she can get.
He wants to wake her up, because he is selfish and each moment she slumbers is a moment without her words, her laughter, her smile.
He lets his beloved sleep. Eventually, he drifts back to slumber as well.
xXx
Crane is woken some time later by a pair of now-familiar lips feathering across his closed eyelids. First the right, then the left. He stirs slightly, and she kisses his mouth, her small fingertips stroking his beard.
He is returning her kiss in seconds, his arm tightening around her as the hand pinned beneath her worms its way free until it lands on her backside.
"Good morning, my love," he purrs, opening his eyes at last. "You are truly a wondrous sight to behold when I awake."
"It's nearly afternoon," Abbie answers, smiling and kissing him again. "And, thank you. I liked waking up wrapped in your arms."
"I pray it shall always be so," he says, turning onto his back and pulling her with so she is lying atop his chest.
"That I always wake up in your arms or that I always like waking up in your arms?" she asks, looking down at him with a sweet, teasing smile on her face.
Reaching up to caress her cheeks with his thumbs, Crane softly requests, "Can we not have both?" His voice rumbles as he continues. "I should very much like both."
Abbie nods, then pushes herself up and kisses him, framing his face with her small hands. "I love you, Ichabod," she whispers, moving to press her cheek against his.
I will never grow tired of hearing her speak those words. "I love you, Abbie," he answers, murmuring in her ear, which he turns to kiss.
He slides his hands down her back to her buttocks, and she lifts her head again, closing her lips over his.
In moments, they are lost again.