He is looking pensively at the stars. His body is immobile, like a statue. His broad shoulders and thin waste remind me of a greek statue from the Louvre. Or the body of a professional athlete. Sculptured in muscle. He just stares, not moving, not saying a single word. He has been doing that for half an hour now. As if he hadn't noticed my presence. Somehow, I can't explain it, but I crave his attention. I feel alive when he looks at me. But his back is turned away and it's so cold in his shadow. I need him.
Before I know it, I do something I never dreamt of doing before. I get up the bed, and my feet move me, as if possessed, to stand behind him. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, when my arms wrap around him, hugging him from behind. He is warm, comforting. Even though he is pure muscle, it's the intoxicating smell that gives me solace. But he doesn't acknowledge me. His eyes are transfixed on the stars. Or maybe he is looking at his home planet? Is he waiting for them to send a ship to come get him? Does he miss his people? His home? I can't comprehend what it must feel like to leave earth behind me and be somewhere completely foreign. I have been homesick before, but not in that way. This is when I notice how his hands are shaking. It's very subtle. But the trembling is there. I can feel it. I grab his hand.
"Don't!" he jerks his hand out of mine.
"Sorry.." I take a step back. Coldness replaces the warmth that his body was giving mine. From that short lived moment of fulfillement, a cold wind creeps between us.
"Are you feeling homesick?" I ask, Trying to build a connection, anything.
"No." he turns back around, to the stars. Why is he so cold? He hides his shaking hands into the pockets of his trousers.
I feel hurt. And it's a disgusting feeling, that spreads in my chest. If he doesn't want to talk then so be it. I don't need to be nice to him. He hasn't been nice to me, so I don't owe him anything. I walk to the bed, undressing into my sleeveless blue nightgown, and to show him how little I care, I turn my back to him. But I can't sleep. Even worse, I crave him. My body does. It speaks volumes. It's almost painful. My heart is hurt, it's bleeding from his coldness. But my body desires him. I want him to climb into bed and hold me. Warm me. Hug me in his strong arms. But at the same time, I want him to go away as far as possible. To never come back and erase the memory of him all together.
Hours go by. It's the middle of the night. He hasn't moved an inch and I have been unable to sleep. Not when I know he is right behind me. I want to call his name.
"Ryo come to bed" I want to shout at him. But I don't. When finally, I hear him move. I hear clothes falling to the floor. I feel the bed moving, pressure shifting behind heat emanating from his body is instantly making the big cold bed become a warm place. I don't care for his attention, but I need him close by. It's the curse, his infection, I tell myself. That's why I feel the way I feel. But I am a woman and women need to be loved and cared for. "Not him." I tell myself. You don't need him.
I can feel his fingers reaching for my back. They are shaking until he finds my body. When his skin touches mine, the shaking stops. A warm current curses through me. A power so strong, I can't resist it, takes me. Overhwelms me. I am powerless. I turn around in the bed, facing him. His beautiful place face is bathed in a blue moonlight. Never have I ever seen anything more mesmerizing than those divine and sculptured traits. His face is like a mask. A beautiful mask. His lips feel soft against mine. I press myself against his body and he doesn't resist. But he is passive. But I don't care. I kiss him, exploring his lips with mine. Tasting his lower lip with my tongue. I push his mouth open when finally he responds to my kiss. Letting my tongue inside his mouth. The kiss is wet, gentle first, but increasingly needy and passionate.
"Wait." he says breathless. But I don't want to stop. I can feel he wants me. His erection is pressing hard against me.
"No." I force out, before crashing my lips against his again. My body pressing against him.