Lestat (flambeauvivant) wrote,

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Your Mirrored Independence

Step again to the mirror, my love.

And as your eyes linger on that reflected Beauty, do they pick out my silhouette behind her? Ah, lower the lights. Paint the room with candlelight; a Chiaroscuro flame to splinter light and dark, blur my outline to shadow. Make my eyes burn. Your body is a perfumed garden in fullest bloom, a delicate frisson to my desire. You weave that wild halo of hair with deft little fingers. The naked pearl at your throat gleams like a glimpse of paradise. Let the moment ripen. I want you to see this fire in my eyes, I want you to see the love sharpen. A love that alternates between slow and brutal force, interrupting the gentler flow of devotion... yeah, spike my lust.

The mirror is a cool canvas, your flesh stretched taut across the glass beneath my searching gaze. Can you feel my gaze move over your abstracted flesh with slow progression..? The year dangles on a thread, beloved, snip it, let it all fall away, and leave you and I, a mirror… a golden layer of skin on a silver glass, cold and hot, tangible and elusive, my hot-skinned Floozy and her icy echo. Timeless.

My lips brush your face, the sleek bone of your cheek beside the secretive curl of your ear. I mold about the soft flesh of your upper arm, my fingers firm and adoring...

On mirrored skin, a blueish shadow ripens beneath a cool possessive hand...

Eyes steady on yours glitter with incandescent light. Quite tangible fingers draw the strong braid of hair to my lips. Mnn... ease the length of that silken rope through my fingers, myriad pin pricks of sweet sensation piquant on your scalp. I dip my fingertips into the waves of gathered hair… no, keep your eyes on that mirror.

As rough with passion I grasp your hair, tug a gasp from your lips as your head tilts back (keep your eyes on mine…) an open mouth crushing to yours, breathing hard with swift capture. There’s nothing but wanting you, at any cost… just having you, being you, needing you, taking you.

Now I’m lifting the sensuous weight of your hair, how it trickles through my fingers, little flicks of dark ribbon curling about your neck. My hand smooths reverently about the curve of your throat, how I adore your throat! The skin is soft beneath my lips, velvet over a tracery of delicate hidden bones, your pulse beating like the wings of desire…

Tongue hot against your throat, my lips pool your blood into a little arc beneath my hungry mouth, an exacting slice to lay open your soul and ravage your very essence. My Samantha, my woman, the fiery heat of my lust…

Your eyes smile back mirroring mine, sweet wraith of a Floozy in a beckoning glass. The material of your dress loosens to reveal the sensuous globe of your shoulder. I kiss it like a holy sacrament, melting desire on my tongue. You watch my mirrored self…

Tearing your clothes like paper, blunt as I press myself upon you, push myself through you, in you, time inconvenient, breathing fevered, a low rumbling in my chest grating on your naked skin, grinding my lust deep…

As each tiny touch shivers my need for the next, I sink into the quiet that is a merging of souls. My hands caress you like the first touch, slow and lingering… my mouth bathes you in love. So many words murmuring on my lips, a litany for the warm body that has become the apogee of all that I hold infinitely dear, the one who has touched me where few have reached, and slipped deeper than any who have ventured there.. my real and honest true love. You…


There’s no mirror, no cool reflected icon, no end to love or beginning of desire.

Just you and I, darling, just flesh and blood and love.

Happy New Year.

... I want to speak in italics tonight.
Tags: letters, love
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