Author's Note: Dedicated to
Djorlcc,Gertyfull Angel, RedVeinRoses, and especially Eris Hanaka (I can't thank you enough for those generous comments! HUGGLE I set to work to put the finishing touches to this chapter right after I saw your reviews)! Thank you for reviewing so kindly.Well, thank you very much for reading, and please do let me know what you think!
Four
I'm squinting quizzically at the gold-plated sandals that have magically appeared out of, well, nowhere, it seems. Along with a very elaborate and elegant set of bow and arrows.
I really do not like where this is going.
Slowly, I slip a little bit deeper into the water, thankful for the numerous petals with thick foamy bubbles, careful to keep only my shoulders above the waterline.
I don't hear anything, but I realize that it does not necessarily mean that someone is not in the same chamber with me.
I'm slightly chagrined to find that, most probably, a male has walked in. I feel certain that it's not my husband. Serpents don't have limbs that could hold sandals and a bow. Or perhaps my husband is a special case of a serpent. Really, who knows?
It's actually a very nice bow; perfectly arched, gracefully long, and adorned with simplistic flair. I may not have seen very many bows and arrows in my lifetime, but I could tell that these looked quite expensive.
I think I'm rambling. Where are my wits now that I needed them the most?
"Hello, love."
I jumped. What was with the surprises today? I still can't see anyone around me. I could tell that the speaker was a man: his voice was deep, strangely charming, and tinged with royalty.
"…Y-yes? Who is this?"
"Your lord."
Oh, so it is my husband.
I'm greatly relieved that he doesn't seem to be a serpent.
I hear gentle steps making their way near me. I still can't see anybody around me, which is really quite unnerving. Was my husband also like the servants? Only breezy, bodiless existences?
The water in the spot next to me ripples, and I realize in fascinated horror that the man—my husband, was entering my bath.
I really, really do not like where this is going.
She's staring with a very humorous expression at where my legs enter the bath.
Her eyes are wide and the full, sculpted contours of her lips are dropped in this surprised little circle. She can't stop blinking and her brows are furrowed.
She has ridiculously long eyelashes.
I don't bother to shrug off my robe and I sink completely in the water. My clothes are wet and seem to cling to me in quite the unsightly way, but I don't give a care. The water feels very nice, and I sit a little nearer to my lady.
My lady.
It does have a certain ring to it, does it not?
She doesn't know it, but she's staring at the space approximately between my nose and my eyes. Oh, now she's searching for the body that's occupying her bath. It's my bath, actually. The chamber smells utterly, innocently feminine, but I figure it would be fine if I smell like a rose for the afternoon.
She blinks those resplendent blue eyes of hers, and then:
"M-may I have your name?"
How adorable! She's a shy little thing. And she's stuttering!
It's really such a pity she can't know my real name, though.
"You may call me Lysander."
(I say it with a flourish and hope it doesn't sound as awful as I think it sounds.)
"It's a p-pleasure to meet you, my lord; I am Psyche of t—"
"I know, love."
She blinks again, and her face splits into this small smile. It doesn't quite reach her eyes and the clouds are marring the vast sky under her thick trim of eyelashes. She's still smiling, though.
"Lysander, then."
It sounds like a mask when I think it.
I'd give anything to hear my real name coming from those rosy lips of hers.
I still can't see anyone, and I can practically feel paranoia and doubt crawling up my sides. What if this—person (?) wasn't a person at all?
He places his arm around my shoulders and the middle of my back and pulls me gently into him—at the least, I can rest assured that my husband feels like a physical man. It takes a bit of time for me to realize that I'm spread across the front of his chest like spilled ink on a scroll. I don't know how that happened.
The good thing is that only my shoulders and collarbone are visible.
I quickly retract my hands from his chest and shoulders (he feels quite pleasant under my fingers; warm, sturdy and safe) and clutch them to the front of my chest. It's quite embarrassing that I've never been in such close contact with a man before (except my father).
His arms surround me completely and his fingers curl around my shoulder. (His arms also feel warm, sturdy, and safe; he feels…reliable, and, well, strong...) I'm quite sure that my face is positively pink all over.
I practically feel his laughter—the amusement is bubbling deep in his chest.
He has a very pleasant laugh.
Until I realize that he's laughing at me.
I've never felt this—this embarrassed before, and I open my mouth and t—
"Oh, no worries, love. You can touch." This time, I practically feel him smirking.
So, at this point, I'm completely positive that my face is red all over. But, well, what can a lady do when her lord speaks to her in that manner?
I take great joy (and pride) in the fact that her face is completely red (including the tips of her ears, actually) all because of me.
I'd never make anyone blush like that before.
Hmm? What about the women I frolic around with?
I don't have time for them. It's no fun playing around with nymphs (mortals aren't beautiful enough to catch my interest…except for Psyche). The nymphs are all used to the art of wooing a woman (coughApollocough) and practically ignore casual charms.
And they aren't worth the trouble of shooting an arrow through them.
Now, of course, if I unleashed all my charms upon them, the nymphs wouldn't stand a chance.
Oh, I'm straying from the matter at hand. She looks adorable even though her face is as red as an apple.
I slide my arm from her shoulder (while keeping another hand there) down slowly, trying extremely hard to make sure that I'm still an, a, gentleman, was it?
Her skin feels like the finest, smoothest chiffon. Hot to the touch.
Yes, I do know what chiffon is. Yes, I know it's odd for a male to know what chiffon is. It is a side effect of having an extremely vain and bossy mother.
Her ears are actually completely red now, but the blush on her face is receding a bit…
Maybe it's best that she doesn't look directly at me like that. I know what would happen to me if she did. And what would happen to her.
My hand arrives at the slender curve of her hip and I rest my fingers there. I push her closer to me until I feel her stomach against mine, and she finally gives in.
Her hand rests above my pounding heart and it literally skips a beat.
She's really, really smiling now (a very shy curving of her lips) and her eyes are filled with the utmost wonder.
She smoothes the folds of my wet robe and the heat of her hands are burning pleasantly into my chest. Her fingers are quite long.
When she lifts her head to find my face with a smile (she's looking at my chin), I'm completely unprepared for the tremor that rakes my body.
She's willing to let me hold her even though she can't see me and hasn't the foggiest clue who I really am.
I want to reward her.
I smile at him.
It's been such a long time since I've felt this excited, but it's a…new kind of excitement and anticipation I'm feeling; oddly, it's one that I've never felt before…one that sends trembles of anticipation all over my body.
I wonder if he's really my husband. My lord was supposed to be a serpent…
But even though I can't see this man, I know that he's a kindred spirit from the gentle way he's holding me…
Oh no, I'm beginning to blush again. I've probably humiliated myself and he's probably regr—
What is he doing?
Is he…
Is he really…?
Is he…
Kissing me?
I don't know for sure, but there's something warm and smooth on my mouth, and I think that's his nose touching mine…
And it's as if a small tremor crackles into life right at my lips and spreads all throughout my body, and…
I think…
Oh…
He is kissing me!
I'm deliriously happy; I'm finally being kissed! Someone finally wants to kiss me!
But…but, how should I respond?
Oh—
He smells divine. Like meadows and sweets and…
I should c-close my eyes, right?
Do I—
I move my arms up higher to his shoulders…
I r-r-really want to k-kiss him back, but I've, I've, I've n—
I feel s-so infantile; n-n-not knowing what to do…
Oh…
…S-s-should I o-open my m-m-mouth?
This feels…wonderful. And—
A p-part of me is…a little a-a-afraid of the…emotions I'm feeling…
M-maybe I should…relax and t-take his lead…
Is he really…a…a…s-s-serpent…? T-t-the oracle—d-d-don't serpents…usually have f-f-forked t-t—?
W-What if he's not my husband? I s-should make sure—before I r-r-respond! I d-don't want to b-be…unfaithful…to my true husband…e-e-even if he's r-r-really a s-serpent…
I…try to…lean…back and—
Oh, no…
I feel the smooth curves of her lips melt under mine, and…it's like nothing I've felt before…
Oh, I've kissed more than my fair share of beautiful women. But, nothing, absolutely nothing compares to this…
So I kiss her…softly, just a touch, a mere meeting of the lips, (even though I really would like nothing better than to unleash my bottled passions), but, apparently…
Has she never been kissed before? With those lips of hers? And those charming eyes of hers?
I can practically feel the heat of her blush emanating from her cheeks to mine.
I'm glad that I have the honor of giving her first kiss. I want to reward this, too, somehow, so I kiss her with a bit more passion…
Extremely gently, very, very delicately though, I don't want her—
…She's pushing against my chest and…leaning back.
I lift my lips a little off hers and open my eyes.
Her eyes are the shade of a ripe, barely-violet blueberry...and, still, I take pride in the fact that the fruits of her eyes are hazy and unfocused, like the small, faint fogs of white on a real blueberry…
She's looking at me with…fear? Sadness? Her breathing seems shallow and rough, but I can't hear much over the sound of my pounding pulse.
…When was I so dramatic?
I feel my insides twist into a knot, but I still hold her close. She doesn't resist; she just peers somewhat quizzically at me.
Her gaze is drifting across my brow…close.
"A-a-are you…t-truly my h-husband?"
"Really, I am, love. I want nothing more than to be with you…"
I truly do want to be by her side until the end of time. Even if I couldn't.
She's blushing so prettily, and I can't help but wonder...
"T-t-the oracle s-said that, m-my lord w-was supposed to b-b-be a s-s-serpent…"
She's smiling!
My grin is so wide, I just hope it doesn't split my face in two.
"Hmph! You believed the oracle? It's just a poor drunken dear muttering whimsical nonsense."
It really is just that, the oracle. It does deliver a true gist of things, but…
Her eyes are huge! Almost doe-like, even.
"You shouldn't insult the oracle…!"
"Oh, pish posh. Why, would you rather your husband to be a serpent than a charming figure such as me? I'm really wounded, love."
Again, I take great pride in knowing that her smile grows because of me. The blush on her face is darker now, and even though it clashes slightly with her reddened lips, I still think she looks quite becoming.
"W-w-w-well, I d-d-do p-prefer you, b-but I—"
"Don't worry, sweet. I'm your rightful husband."
I smile easily and clasp my hands around his neck. My hands lightly brush against his hair…
There's a strained and uneasy tone to his voice, though. I squirm guiltily, sliding my hands down to his chest back to where they were before, and wish that Mother should have told me about this in her hurried "Wedding Night" lesson…
"I'm so sorry for r-resisting you…It was the l-l-last thing I wanted to d-do, b-but I just didn't w-w-want…"
"Unnecessary complications?"
"Yes, that, and, well, also because…I was v-v-very…u-unprepared…"
I wince at my words. I must have ruined the kiss for the both of us…! Oh, this is bad…I never wanted to refuse him!
I can feel the blush creeping up my neck again, and I do hope he forgives me…
He's…not responding. I panic and lift my head up (I definitely need to try to be bolder) to search for his face. I want him to be my husband!
I don't want anyone else!
I'm determined not let him ignore me, so I slide my hand from his chest slowly up…
His skin feels extremely smooth and cherubic—like silk stretched over some kind of heated, sculpted marble…
My hand reaches his shoulder, and I feel that he's very tense, as if he's an animal about to be slaughtered. My heart drops a little, but I do want him to approve of me as his wife…
My hand skims over the sturdy, rounded rim of his shoulders and gently up the side of his neck. A finger reaches his jaw and I cup my hand around his cheek.
I'm so relieved that he leans into my touch and I smile brightly at him. He seems to be much, much taller than I am, so I stand on my toes and tip my head back a slight bit.
I still don't think I can reach him.
My other hand slides up to meet the other side of his face, and I realize he's smiling by the way his cheeks are pinched at the sides under my thumbs.
He holds me a bit closer to him and leans down just enough. I stand on my toes and gently, slowly, try to find his lips with mine.
I try to suppress my shudders as her hand slides so slowly up my chest. Does she not know what she's doing to me?
Evidently not.
My heart jumps a beat when she reaches my jaw—I can't let her touch my face!
Relief washes over me as her soft, warm hand stays and holds my cheek with a tenderness I've never had the grace of feeling before.
Smiling, I lean into her touch in an effort to let her know what she makes me feel.
I'm mesmerized by her smile and the clear starry gaze of her eyes.
She stands on her toes and I can't help but notice that a little of her comely bosom has risen from the bubbles.
I try to bottle a groan. Her slender neck and collarbone are n—
She's trying to kiss me!
My smile grows and I finally give in a little to my itching hands. I tighten my hold around her and tip my head down slightly for her.
Her eyes are sliding shut and her lips are actually heading to the left edge of my lips. I adjust to a better angle and meet her mouth with mine.
Fireworks, explosions…
I still try to be extremely gentle with her, but I don't think I can resist my own passion for long.
However, she's the one that tastes my lips first.
I return her actions and prod apart the seam of her lips—she tastes a bit like the sweetness and purity of a natural, undiscovered spring in the mountains…
He's responding!
I couldn't be happier.
My hands slide down from his cheeks and circle his neck—he pulls me even closer to him.
Mmm...
I can't linger in the position for long, though—I'm still holding my breath, and I'm positive that my face is completely red again…
Fortunately, my fabulous husband understands and we both part our lips from each other—he lands a soft kiss on my nose and I think a blush has started there, too.
He tasted like a mix of the playful, boyish wonder of exploring a room filled with spices, with the mischievous scent of cinnamon and cloves wafting up my senses.
I'm smiling like the lovesick fool that I am.
"…Lysander?"
"...Psyche?"
I'm relieved that his voice carries traces of jest at mocking my own demure tone.
"You aren't…mad at me?"
"No man in their right mind would be mad at you after your kiss, love."