by: de Bonheur
DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to MCA/Universal. The author is only borrowing them for non-for-profit entertainment, and she retains all rights to the rest of the story - an independently created work. WARNINGS: This is alt.fanfic and not suitable for minors. Various people may be offended for different reasons... so, caveat emptor. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Plot? This has even less of a plot than WINTERREISE. Besides it being a ... ahem... personal fantasy/interpretation of X:WP characters, I just wanna make sure I can still write like a normal person (MY definition of "normal" of course! ;)) after the seminar paper babbles... :P
Children should be born of love, I've always thought. You, my beautiful boy, with your flowing blonde locks so like mine, remind me so much of your brave father. Ah, don't ever doubt it, my son, you were definitely born of two people very much in love.
Still, I sometimes wonder how things might have been had I not met your father. Running the Amazons would have been very different then, I'd imagine...
I can still remember the very first day I met her. I can remember the battle like it was yesterday. It was a fierce combat. And I was merely an inexperienced teenager; she could not have been too much older... Still, she was incredibly skilful with her sword, and I was certain she had to be one of the best warriors in all of Greece.
Her long dark, dark hair flew in the wind wildly. Her slim perfect form was lithe and keen like a jungle cat's. And wild was also the feral smile which danced on her full expressive lips, complimenting her high cheekbones, subduing even the golden sunlight. What colour were her eyes? I was desperate to know; but I stood too far away.
When the fighting was finally over, I went up to her. Eyes, dark with victorious excitement, met mine. And I soon found myself drowning in their depth. I think I fell in love with her then. As I was forgetting to breathe.
My first love. When I close my eyes, I can still remember the touch of your fingers which sent shivers through me. I remember the dizzying sensations which I would always try so hard to fight, albeit unsuccessfully.
When I close my eyes, I can still feel your amorous kisses, your passionate embraces. They were like sweet, heady Amazon wine. And I wanted to drink and drink until I was blind drunk.
I remember the afternoon in the village, when for the first time, your hand hesitantly and almost shyly touched my cheek. I felt rooted to the floor as your fingers gently caressed my blonde locks, as your palm grazed my sensitive throat.
For the longest moment, I felt as if all the blood had drained from my body. I couldn't move. Then, thick, molten, sweet honey coursed through my veins. And I felt an inexplicable urge to throw myself at you and tear the armour off your body, and clothes from my own.
I wanted to touch you, and have you touch me.
"I think... I think you're beautiful." When you so softly whispered those words against my ear, I almost fainted. I heard my own heart thud like thunder in my chest. And when without warning, without even waiting for my response, you cupped my cheeks and tilted my head... gods on Mt. Olympus, I thought for sure I'd die when your full lips found mine.
And when I close my eyes, I can still taste the faint perfume of cinnamon on your skin. Wild. With my face buried in your softness.
I remember how your breath caught in your throat the first time my inexperienced lips grazed your skin. I remember your fingers slipping into and tangling themselves in my hair to bring my head closer to you. I remember how you kissed and nibbled on my ear. I can still hear the gentle murmur of your voice.
I could feel my own senses reeling after my hands grew bold enough to slide upwards to cup your round full breasts. I loved how your already erect nipples react to my fingers' gentle teasing, and how your pliant flesh mould itself to my palms brazenly kneading.
Then when my mouth closed upon a tempting nipple and began to draw upon it... gods, the low moan that escaped from your lips almost robbed me of my senses. And the way you sighed and squirmed with pleasure, how you purred as my hair spilled over and brushed across your body...
I can still hear you cry out my name. The sound of your voice burning itself into my heart and mind.
I will forever remember the look of vulnerability on your face, fair against the firelight, framed by your dark, dark hair.
Was it anger when you jammed your knee between my thighs? Was it passion when you drove your fingers almost brutally deep inside me, ramming into me over and over again? Or was it to show me how acutely I've hurt you?
But I didn't feel it then, did I? All I felt was the fierce staccato of overflowing passion burning in my own body.
"Now! Oh please! Love me! NOW!" I pleaded.
I remember the first time I asked that of you, my first love, my body squirming restlessly underneath yours.
I think I lost myself when your strong slim arm slipped about my waist that first afternoon I stood close enough to drown in the deep dark ocean of your eyes.
I remember falling back against that arm while your hot lips trailed a fiery path down my arched throat, leaving a path of breathless kisses. I felt your sword-roughened palm move to cup my innocent breast, and heard your voice, hoarse with desire, moan my name...
Oh, how very differently the same syllables sounded then...
It IS a fine line between love and hate, isn't it? Just like you told me so long ago...
But still, I cannot forget the first time you loved me... How very slowly you bent your head to mine. I cannot forget the deep, fervent kisses we shared, our tongues dancing sweetly, hungrily, fiercely.
I remember how I felt when I stroke your dark head as you nuzzled and caressed my breasts. I loved how your silken strands slipped through my fingers. And I shuddered with fear and delight when your mouth moved down my body to my stomach, then pressed delicate kisses inside my thighs.
I knew you wanted and tried to be gentle, but I could stand none of that. I needed desperately to be loved by you, "Now, please, now!" And, so, instinctively, you pressed forward, absorbing and swallowing my cry of pain and passion with your mouth.
As I lost control of my mind, my body, my soul, I felt tears upon my cheeks. Our tears.
And I will never forget how tenderly you kissed them away as we lay locked in each other's embrace, your gentle hand stroked my face and hair soothingly.
"Hurt her, and you'll have me to answer to." You had so gallantly warned him, before we were married. I remember the candour and pathos in your voice.
Yet, I also cannot forget the glee in your strange gaze when our sisters offered me to you as a sacrifice.
Nor can I forget the tone of your voice when you declared Gabrielle's betrayal. The traitor whose death you threatened the Amazons to join wasn't the young queen, was it?
"You look beautiful." You had told me, before Melosa gave me away to my husband. "All brides are beautiful." And I had responded.
I must have forgotten then what I now so clearly remember... that conversation we had while comfortably entwined in each other's arms, so very, very long ago...
"Will it always be like this, Velasca?"
"Oh, I hope so, Ephiny."
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