Forgiven By: Robin Alexander
Disclaimer: This story contains adult content.
Special thanks goes to Tara S. Young for her wonderful editing. She allows me the joy of simply letting my imagination run free.
Comments good or bad can be sent to: email@example.com Please feel free to visit my website @ http://www.robinfic.com/
Her skin is like silk pressed against me. Her hair is so soft and fragrant, and it covers my face as I nuzzle into the back of her neck. Her fingers lace with mine, and she pulls them close to her breast. I can feel her breathing catch in her chest as my fingers graze her tender skin.
The dark and stormy night is a mirror image of my mood. Cold and dangerous. I listen as the rain pelts the windows, driven by the howling wind.
So much has happened between us, and though I crave her touch, I'm afraid to give myself to her again. She allowed a stranger to touch her the way I have for years now. The betrayal and hurt kept me away for so long. Even though I wanted to hate her ... forget her, I couldn't.
I sneaked into her house, our home, stripped off my wet clothes and crawled into bed. She hardly stirred. She was awake, and I know she recognized my perfume. She lay on her side facing away from me, afraid to turn over and meet my eyes. She knows if she faces me, it could break the spell and I'll run away. This silent communication passes between us. She knows me.
I wished it had never happened, and I know she does, too. I've missed her, missed her touch. Now, as I hold her, the familiar warmth fills me with sadness and want.
I listen to her slow steady breathing, just like I always have. And even though it's so familiar and comforting, I wonder if things will ever be the same. Can the damage be undone?
We've talked over the last few weeks. I know she's full of regret. I've questioned myself so many times. If I had done things differently. If I would have held her more. If I would have been there on the emotional level she needed, would this have happened? If I wouldn't have constructed the emotional barriers between us, would this have happened? Does she still desire me the way she used to, or has the stranger made an indelible mark on her memory ... her body?
I love her for all the ways she's not perfect. Did the stranger she invited into our lives feel the same? Does she love the way she laughs? Does she love the way she snores softly in deep sleep? Does she love the way she fidgets when she's nervous?
Did she ever think of me when the stranger touched her in ways only I had for so long?
I want to lie here with her and pretend that it never happened, but it did, and I'm trying hard to let it go and forgive. If she had held a part of herself away from me as I had, would I have sought the arms of another?
She lies perfectly still, allowing me to hold her. She knows the questions that plague my weary mind. She makes no attempt to speak, knowing the answers that pass her lips will not sate my desire for answers. What I need to know will be displayed in her caress.
I move her hair and kiss the back of her neck softly, enjoying her scent. She sighs but doesn't move. I run my fingertips lightly across the skin of her arm, watching as the goose bumps rise from my touch, illuminated by the soft light coming from a lamp she leaves on every night for me in hopes that I'll return to her.
My fingertips tentatively touch her lips, and she softly kisses each one. My heart feels like it has stopped with the tender gesture and the warmth of her breath. I run my tingling fingertips down her neck; her chest rises and falls quicker. I know what I want, what I need from her, but I'm afraid to ask for it. She knows it.
I close my eyes and roll her onto her back. I can feel her eyes on my face, but I can't summon the courage to open my own. I tuck my head into the crook of her neck and lie against her as she timidly pulls me closer. I allow my fingers to lightly drift over her stomach watching the muscles under soft skin twitch from my touch.
For a split second in my mind's eye, I see foreign hands touching her this way, and sadness and anger flood my thoughts. She feels my body tense next to hers, and I watch as her breathing stills. I lift my body up to finally look into her eyes, and her hand falls away, fearing rejection. My eyes slowly lift to hers, and I watch as one of many tears slips from her eyes.
Intermingled with the tears, I see regret in her brown eyes. Leaning down, I delight in her familiar kiss that I have denied myself for months. She's nervous like the first time we kissed. Her sweetness fills my mouth as I explore hers; her fingers slowly entwine in my hair as she pulls me closer.
My hands roam her body as I kiss her until she takes control and flips me over onto my back, forcing me to look again into her eyes. She seeks my permission with her look alone. Silent communication passes between us again, and she showers me with kisses that I return. No words pass between us, only soft moans and whimpers. Words at this point would be meaningless and not what I desire from her.
Her kisses burn my skin. I feel that I'm doing something dangerous ... forbidden, allowing her to touch me like this. And it is dangerous. I trusted her, and my heart was broken, but the pain is worse being without her.
I watch her in the dim light; the tension on her face is apparent. She's trying hard to do everything right. I wonder if I can lose myself in her attentions when she drifts lower. Her mouth caresses me, and I feel my control drifting away on the sensation. I close my eyes as her tongue enters me, and I let her take control. She doesn't tease or prolong the inevitable, bringing me to ecstasy. With one hand wrapped in her hair and the other clutching the sheets, I give into the passion she stirs within.
At this moment, it's just us. No one between us, I know that I am the only one on her mind. I can see it in her eyes and feel it in her touch. She curls up next to me and cradles me in her arms. We drift off into a peaceful sleep for the first time in months. I'm home, and this is where I will stay with her.
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