Two people in the moonlight...

Technically G-rated, but definitely open to personal interpretation on that one.


Her skin was pale in the moonlight, as smooth and perfect as if it were fine marble, shaped by the hand of a master. His gaze was drawn to her, standing as she was, frozen in time and yet still alive with some ethereal beauty. His breath hitching in his throat, he stepped forward to close the distance between them, half-fearing that she would vanish away beneath his touch, nothing more than a dream. But he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. The attraction was magnetic, stronger than thought and deeper, somehow, than feeling.

She felt his breath, warm against her skin, as he approached her. The brief heat lingered, even as he drew himself further away again, leaving her standing there, not quite alone in the moonlight. He was behind her, looking down over the ridge of her shoulder and the curve of her spine. His gaze fell on her like a physical force. She could almost feel the sweep of his eyes as they moved silently over her.

He forced himself to step back again, although his gaze never falthered. His hand, extended toward her, began to drop back to his side, unconsciously mirroring the slope of her shoulder as it fell away, only the tiniest of spaces separating one from the other. A flinch would have been enough to do it, to betray his trembling hand into bridging the gap. But he did not flinch, refusing by some almost superhuman feat of will to bow down before whatever instinct had brought him here. He yearned to reach out and touch her, to bring life to the statue before him, but he would not do it yet. Not like this.

She closed her eyes against the pale light of the moon, retreating away into the darkness. Closed off from the mundane details, she felt the world begin to fall away piece by piece, leaving her alone with him in the moonlight she could no longer see. The room was so silent she could hear the racing of her own heart and the rise and fall of his breath in tantalizing counterpoint to her own. Catching the rhythm, she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, setting them in synchrony.

When he reached out toward her again, not even a heartbeat later, it was agonizingly deliberate. He hesitated only once more before fnially making contact. He felt the touch, soft though it was, resonate deep through him, spreading like an electric shock. Beneath his fingertips, some ancient magic had turned cold marble into warm flesh. Somehow, through a power he didn't know he had, he had managed to give her life.

The first touch roused her, bringing back sensation and restoring her link to the world. Her eyes opened to the silver moonlight as his fingers trailed over the surface of her skin, leaving records of their paths, warm against the untouched places. Despite herself, she shivered, trembling as much from the feeling of his hand on her shoulder as from the cold. It was exquisite torture, that lightest of touches.

Beneath his wandering fingers, her muscles fell away one by one, the details too fine for any but the greatest of carvers. But she was no mere statue. He could feel her tremble, hear the rise and fall of her breath in tandem with his own. Reaching out his other hand, he grasped her other shoulder gently, turning her to face him. He pulled her toward him, merging their two forms into one, pressing flesh to flesh.

His grip was firm, anchoring her to the reality of the moment, assuring her that this was no mere illusion, that it was more than just a passing fantasy. She felt each strong finger press into her, pulling her to him with a force she had no desire to resist. She turned, facing him, as they came together. His hands wandered down from her shoulders, moving over her back and chasing away any thoughts of escape. With a small motion, a tilt of her chin, she peered up at him from within the confines of his embrace.

He felt her heart racing beneath her skin. He could feel each pulse reverberate through him, hear each heartbeat cut through the silence. Pressed against him as she was, he wondered if she could hear how his own heart beat only for her. His hands, splayed against the curves of her back, relayed her every breath to him. His fingers sought out the firmness of her ribs, settling themselves in the soft spaces between the hard bones, holding her to him. He would keep her there forever if he could, a living masterpiece held in his arms.

Words by Melissa
Read 639 times
Written on 2006-04-16 at 16:29

Tags Moonlight  Romance 

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Christian Ward
Sensual and beautiful are the only words I can use to describe this