Lestat (flambeauvivant) wrote,

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For Samantha...

I want to clothe you in love, my Love. I'm going to peel away your layers like a soft cloth inched from a tawny shoulder. I want you to swell carmine with tension, ripe and unyielding. Lift your jaw. Flash those dark eyes, curtained by the downward sweep of coquettish lashes. I want to hear a involuntary gasp as you cushion yourself from my steady advance. I want to feel your sinews tighten; your brows draw together in joyous suspicion. I can sense the brush of that playful smile. Feed my hunger. Tease me. Make war on me.

I see you dowsed in pooled candle light; your skin lent a shimmering aureate glow, a Claude-glass tincture of a lost Eden. Rainbows fracture from the crystal glass you hold in distracted fingers, little prismatic ghosts kissing the sly little curve of your lips.

Passions and scents converge, smoke on smoke, a double helix of unspoken craving, and I know you taste it too. Your mouth parts with infinitesimal slowness. I see a teasing glimpse of pink as you raise your glass; wine as red as blood. A single drop balances on the pout of your lip. It's a living thing in the glitter of candle light. Uncaring, you tilt your head to toss that playful feline glance my way.

Your naked toes wriggle amidst a sea of satin pillows. You stare through my swanky stalk. One slender finger touches your lips. A smile blooms on your mouth and my veins burn for you. There are still several paces between us and I am already dizzy with your closeness. One knowing look can sear us together. You know me too well, my Heart, yet you are everything that is mystery to me.

I press the pad of my thumb to your lip, entranced by the subtle yielding of your flesh. A flicker of doubt flares in your eyes, but your strength coils about me. Just feel this little shock of contact with me, darling; such a simple thing is this sensuous friction. I can feel the warmth of your trust. I sink past the sheer wonder of you and clutch you to my chest.

Your roots are deep, tapped into the earth and the arcane. You are Woman and all that means to me. Your legs are naked, silky against mine, bare toes beguiling on my own feet, your fingers curl into my skin and your eager face lifts to mine. I could fall whole and venerate into your kiss, drown my heart in your tenderness, grind my soul into yours.

Our chamber is sultry with our love, piquant as a lazy breeze full of warm rain. You move against me, with me, and your body is so exquisitely in tune with mine that I am delirious at the very miracle of it. I feel your heightened respiration with the senses of a drunken Satyr, the tiny hitch in you, your breath in my lungs, and your damp mouth about my tongue, yours a hot little fish.

The bed is a boat drifting to exotic shores, and I ink my kisses upon vellum skin and paint pure heat from hard and probing hands. Love your slicked red mouth. Your neck is a slender stem. There’s a coy defiance in your kneading hands that pull and push at my flesh, a shiver of fire as your nails prick at my back. You know my greed and how to provoke and sate it, you know my heart in an osmosis of souls, you and I and a frisson of tangled legs, the blunt zing of your teeth, the torrid heat of your body.

I want to pierce your impish resistance. I want the rich tang of your warm quintessence, smooth tawny arms under my reverential grasp, the slip of your thigh on my hip. You drown me with your sudden melting, lithe and loving, bathing me in light. There’s a surrender in conquest. My body rhymes with yours.

My Valentine, I love you.
Tags: love, writing
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