Apocrypha: Lightning

By katryne

…They say lightning are God's arrows striking demons down…

I am sinning.

I sin every time we are together.

I sin every time you take a breath. I sin every time you look at me. I sin every time your fingers move. Before me, above me, below me, around me.

I sin right now.

Your grey-blue eyes are on me now and the storm within does nothing to quench this heat rising in me.

You speak and the sound pulls me deeper into darkness.

I am lost.

Your fingers are touching my lips. Teasing contact of skin on skin. That finger burns me. My lips burn you. You gasp and blink. I am concentrating on the inner pink of your mouth.

You tempt me.

This shouldn't be happening.

But it happens every fucking time.

You hold me as surely as I hold you. We're both in each other's thrall, too swept up to care or notice. Your breathing quickens now, your lips parting further and the descend is as inevitable as life itself.

You taste of mint and smoke. You taste of gunmetal; I suckle the cut on your lip and swallow the moan from your throat. You squirm. It's too much, you want more.

My scalp feels too tight. Your fingers are caught in my hair. There's a roving hand behind my back, as impatient as mine under your shirt. You lift your legs, you press closer. The friction is unbearable, the sensation overwhelms and we both gasp and break the communion of our kiss.

The flash of light outside illuminates you, throwing your planes and angles into stark relief. The white column of your throat beckons me. I hold you tightly with my arms and my mouth. You are my sin. You are my reward.

Is it any wonder why our joining is always in the dark?

Your every movement intoxicates me. Your leg slides up, a trail of lust heading straight to my groin… what a naughty thing you are. I groan in surprise and pleasure. In a daze I hold your hips, keeping you still. You whimper in protest, soft broken words only half-coherent spilling out unconsciously from your writhing glory.

You want this so badly, my sable-haired seducer. You want it so badly you tremble and shake even though the tempest beating the windows are safely kept outside and this room is over-warm.

This magic is too much to be wrong. I arch helplessly, as the current passes from me to you and back again. My fingertips and toes tingle with feeling of you. I cannot get any closer to you. I need to. I want to.

This much magic cannot be wrong.

You jerk as if something white hot and sharp had just struck you. It's just my hand, caressing the most secret part of yourself. You press yourself to me, forwards and backwards, and you cannot make up your mind. Even in that teasing, you still love me.

You shouldn't love me. We shouldn't be doing this.

I probed deeper. A whimper escapes you. I know your weakness now.

A helpless breath on your lips. It is my name you are sighing. You seduce me with every undulation, and now you unleashed your soft gasping voice on me.

We are in the dark, a ballet of skin and sweat hidden in the dark, in the corner, out of the light.

I should hate you, the brightest star of my life.

I fumble, impatient. My fingers are too dry; our juices aren't enough. My fingers are now slick and cool, slowly warming itself as I press gently inside, past the coy ring of flesh the colour a darker pink than your erect nipples.

Suddenly I am in your grasp, and I can do nothing. Your touch is too frantic to be skilful, your every cell demands completion. I push your hands away and place them high above your head. You are needy, keening softly. Your body is humming in anticipation.

This is enough, you are prepared.

I hiss at my own touch; we're both beyond the edge and there is no turning back. I kiss the backs of your knees on my shoulders and there was a word, breathless but yours.

"Please…"

A gentle shush. Was it me? It can't be you, with your eyes tightly shut and your hips arching towards me.

So much tightness. Too much pleasure. This must be heaven, if paradise can be found in the too-hot contact between two illicit lovers. I push deeper. Your wail becomes louder. I can only grunt. I can only push.

This much magic cannot be wrong.

The blood is roaring in my ears. I cannot see anything but you. I feel the burn of the carpets vaguely, at the back of my mind. You're moving with me now, and my treacherous control is slowly being pulled at opposite directions, between here and eternity, pleasure frozen in time.

…The devil's whispers becomes louder, and God cries as he smites the guilty…

I cannot hear your scream as much as I can feel it vibrating in my head, in my chest, in my heart. My body snaps back, every seizure pulling a little bit of my soul into you. The blinding flare drowns everything in white, just as the crashing sound afterwards drowns everything but us.

I am spent. You link your languid arms around me and you bring me deeper into another kind of darkness.

…They say lightning are God's arrows striking demons down…

END

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