Moonlit Passion

The knock on the door startled me. As much as it would startled anyone else I would expect. Anyone who sits up till 1am in the morning, at least, listening to the rain silently in the dark. I had been sitting on the couch in my living room doing just that, listening to the rain silently in the dark, it calmed my thoughts and put me in almost a trance. But the knock was loud enough to drive me from that lovely trance, pulling me to my feet and towards the door. As I passed the window, however, I was put back into that trance, watching the rain beat off the clear glass for only a few seconds. It seemed to want in, each drop banging with its own fury. I slipped past the window quickly, just another shadow moving past forbidden light, and stepped up to the door. Standing up on my toes I managed to peer out the small window on the door, but like some movie all I saw was a dark figure standing there, rain splashing off his (assuming it was a male) body. But his stance looked familiar, not many people I kno w stand straight and tall while soaked with chilled water of the night air, drawing my hand to the doorknob while my other hand found the locked and turned. I continued to stand on my toes for a few more minutes, peering at the 'stranger', feeling pulled towards him as I stepped back, pulling the door back and peeking over the edge.

I could hear the rain clearly now, more clearly than before, echoing soothingly through my mind as I swung the door back a little more, enough for me to step forward and push the screen door open with little effort. In that same second the beating water became louder in my mind, as if it had just gained entrance into a locked vault without the key. He looked down to me, smiling beneath the rain as the water soaked my arm which held the screen door open. His smile only grew wider as the sky lighted up behind him with a crack of lightning as if on cue by his gleaming blue eyes. Oh, how my knees grew weak being held by his gaze, so tenderly yet fierce enough to let me know I was his...or was it just wishful thinking? He stepped forward, approaching me, until I was forced to back up, letting the screen door close behind him, backing myself up against the wall behind me. Water dripped off his black hair, his trench coat, his skin, off his nose...rea ching up, I let the drop drip onto my fingertip, looking up at him. He seemed to ignore the tender action as he leaned closer still, soaking the front of my pajama's, his chilled lips brushing against my ear.

"Can you hear it, Cassandra?" His voice was warm and his breath was hot, a complete opposite to the freezing, wet hands now running up the sides of my body, his fingertips sending shivers up my spine. "It called me to you."

Peering over his shoulder I could see the skylight up again, followed by a sharp rumbling thunder. The storm.

I closed my eyes as his lips slid down my neck smoothly, warming against my flesh as his hands held my sides firmly in place. Even if I wanted to I wouldn't be able to pull away from him, his grasp was so firm but gentle, I briefly wondered if I was dreaming. Only half aware of my surroundings now, like a drugged dream, I allowed my head to roll to the side as his lips slid down further over my goosebumps skin, along the curves of my shoulder.

Expert hands brushed against my body, each button coming undone almost on their own. The storm outside, which seems to be right over my house, forced me to open my eyes to slits, gazing out the still open door. In one soft, smooth motion, his hands found their between to behind my thighs, pulling my legs up around his waist, forcing me to wrap my arms around his neck so as not to slide down the wall; clinging to him. The tangles of his wet hair fell back and away from his face, our lips pressing against each other for the first time. And like a dream, my peripheral vision faded out, leaving him as my main focus, also leaving certain, unimportant details out of my memory.

That lapse of memory left both of us naked, our clothes leading a trail from my front door to the bedroom. The storm filled my mind, while he filled my body, his skin gently sliding against mine, sensations rising beyond any human comprehension. Flashes of lightning illuminated him and his bare skin for only seconds at a time, but I knew his eyes were locked on mine, held prisoner in various degrees. How could I possibly voice how I feel? Need I voice my feelings? I wasn't able to get soft whimpers and moans past my throat, though my hot lips parted slightly, barely whispering his name, "Morgon..." Again, as if on cue, that eerie blue flash, known as lightning, filled the room, his eyes holding me steady, "Louder..."

Clearly struggling, I vainly wanted to turn away and just let him 'finish', but I couldn't...as much as I wanted to, perhaps needed to, I also needed to keep my gaze steady on his, my voice gaining a little more strength, just as his rhythm did. Flashes continued to streak across the room, energizing my skin, my feelings...my body melting into his as my fingers dug into the muscles of his back. "I'm yours, Morgon, I'm yours." I wanted to scream with the climax, but after speaking those words my voice stuck in my throat, as if exhausted from struggling.

I could care less what happened after that, the same way a person doesn't care when they're in the state between being awake and having a dream, it's such a pleasant dull there's nothing to equal it. And that's exactly where I was in, in a sort of limbo, between being asleep and dreaming, letting my tingling body cool down. Though at one point, I do remember pulling myself from such a limbo, rolling over onto my side to face him. He had fallen asleep on his stomach, his arms hugging the pillow above his head, his face half buried. The storm had calmed to nothing, letting the moon take over her domain in the night sky, hanging low over the dark horizon. Streams of eerie, pale blue light crept in through the window, slipping onto the floor, up the bed and over his bare back. So calm, so smooth. Reaching over, I let my fingertips trail over his spin, causing the fine hairs to rise against my touch; how could his skin be so soft? I ran my fingers down the curve of his lower back and up again, smiling to myself as he shivered involuntarily. Keeping the smile, I laid my head back down on my own pillow, studying the features of his face. His eyelashes curled so perfectly, dark and soft, almost feminine like, though his whole face was beautifully feminine. His breathing was steady and low, going through softly parted lips. Such a steady rhythm, I let my eyes fall shut, quickly falling asleep and slipping off into an unrememberable dream.