The Kiss - Alexith

The smoke of his cigarette curled about his defined features, making his skin seem even more pale in the weak late afternoon sun that slanted through her window. She suddenly saw how gaunt he was; how much weight had fallen from his bones since last she had seen him, less than six months earlier.

“You’re too thin” she murmered

He nodded imperceptibly, exhaling another undulating white cloud of smoke into the wan sunbeam illuminating his face.

He was so still. Like porcelain the light seemed to almost shine through his waxen skin. She cast her mind back to the beaming handsome faces of the young men in their impeccable uniforms. Had it only been six months ago? They had stood shoulder to shoulder posing for a photograph, camaraderie and boldness written across their youthful features. She had found each of these boys suddenly transformed into soldiers impossibly handsome back then. Gleaming and immortal as their eyes sought out, and soaked in, the admiration of the young women gathered around.

She knew that three of those same boys, whom she had gone to school with, were now gone. The waste was too much to contemplate.

They sat together in the near silence of that slow Sunday afternoon, the smoke of their combined cigarettes mingling in the air between them. She knew this afternoon was a precious solace for this strangely still man, home on leave from a protracted, horrific war. A short while ago he had been surrounded with death and chaos, and yet here he was, thin and haunted, but clean and safe, at least for now.

He would only have these quiet safe moments for a few more precious hours, and then... then he would return to the horror from which he came, perhaps never to return. The weight; the sheer significance of each quiet second suddenly pressed in on her and she turned to him, determined to finally break their silence, if only to still her own sense of urgency.

“Why are you here?” her abrupt question hung in the air.

She smiled trying to bring lightness to her question; to speak the line flippantly and humorously as they used to speak before the world turned upside down, but this question was all, and they both knew it. The moment had come for declarations.

He turned to face her, and in his eyes she saw that same tenderness and hesitation that had always been there, for her.

“I wanted to see.... You”. He spoke it softly, but with a certainty that quickened her breath.

She had always seen him. Back then, before the horrors, he had been much quicker to smile, and the girls had flocked to him as his face and frame found the solidity and hardness of manhood. But this boy had always held himself apart. She had watched him from afar and observed the way in which he politely but firmly refused all advances. It had puzzled her at the time, true, but... somehow she had always known that he had set himself apart.... for Her.

She had read that in the ardour of his eyes, and in the flicker of a flame of jealousy that flashed across them when she had accepted the boisterous advances of other boys. It seemed like aeons ago to her. Somehow it had never seemed right, to ... cross that line and transform that pure flame in his eyes to physical touches; to shared ragged breathing in the night. Somehow that pure flame in his eyes had been all that she had desired of him.... at the time. The truth be known she had loved the heat she knew that only she could bring to his usually reserved and controlled demeanour. That flame had been hers, and hers alone. Such sweet intoxicating power she had over him.

Their eyes locked, the cigarette smoke swirling between them in the small room, and again silence fell, as the true meaning of his words, so quiet and yet so full of forlorn burning desire swept over her. After all the hell that had happened, he still wanted her. He still worshipped her.

His hands trembled as he extinguished his cigarette, and suddenly he leant forward in his chair, facing her. Desperation shone in his beautiful eyes. She felt her own heart quicken, and a deep throbbing energy begin in her sex as this handsome soldier slowly slipped off the chair to his knees, straightened his back and leaned in close to her. Their faces were now inches apart.

“It’s always been You” he whispered raggedly. She felt the words caress across her face, and in that whispered moment of painful longing revelation she knew all that she needed to know of the hell he had faced in this horrid war. She knew that his comfort and dream had been of her as day by day he stared death in the face. She knew that he had dreamed of her, desired her, and that he had stayed alive ... in the hope of seeing her.

She saw his pain and tormented desire, and somehow suddenly all became clear. She owned this boy, turned man, turned soldier.

Slowly she rose from her chair, and took a small step forward. She now towered over him as he knelt, transfixed. She watched, a small powerful knowing smile curling at the corner of her lips. Her heart raced as she felt his gaze, so full of fire, roam from her ankles, up to her thighs, to her sex. She watched as his eyes lingered over her skirt, his breathing quickening. She reached down, cupped his chin and inclined his head so that their eyes once again met.

With just a trace of a smile, She appraised his face and the line of solid musculature beneath his uniform. Such strength and force this man possessed and it was Hers. She owned this man. Slowly she moved her hands down to the hem of her skirt, her eyes still locked on his. Slowly she lifted the skirt inch by inch over her legs. The fabric whispered over her stockings, and her skin tingled.

She watched, bewitched by her own power. He was shaking, and she gasped a little as she heard him groan. He inched forward on his knees, looked up at Her and whispered the word “please”. The desperation in the word made her weak at the knees. So very slowly now she slid her skirt up over her thighs, inch by inch, to finally reveal her cotton panties. Slowly she slid them down, sighing a little as she felt the fabric pull away, and again she stood over him, her sex owning him. Conquering him.

“Oh god”, he gasped, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he leant forward, his lips only inches away from that part of Her he coveted, that he had dreamt of through so many nights. “oh god please” he repeated, his voice trembling.

The moment possessed her. Her power intoxicating, she felt a low throbbing ache inside her. She snaked her hands in his hair, and drew his raggedly breathing mouth just inches away from her swollen lips.

“Beg to taste me” She whispered in the still room, no other sound to be heard but the slow ticking of the wall clock. “Beg me”.

She watched his jaw clench as he struggled. She watched him hesitate on the brink of what she suddenly knew was a vast cavern of unrequited longing, and desperation to serve. She watched and saw the precise moment where the pride and reserve of this soldier at her feet suddenly crumbled away, and all that remained was the desperate boy who had watched Her and craved Her from afar, all those years ago. He groaned a deep guttural growl and leaned in so that his lips grazed against the soft downy hair of her sex. His voice deep, and hoarse, his breath tickling over her lips.

“Please... i beg You... this is all i have lived for.”, he rasped and she felt a great trembling sob seize him as he begged and begged, his lips mere inches from his destiny, his dream.

Tears now flowed freely from him and shone on his face as he looked up at her, a conquered soldier on his knees begging her for the chance to finally touch his lips to her sex and commit his soul to the most worshipping kiss a man can give to a woman. A kiss that cheated death. A kiss that would sustain him when he returned to a place of horror. This is all i have lived for. The sheer force of that statement reverberated through the room, as the cold winter sunlight danced in the air between them.

Slowly she stepped forward, her thighs parting a little. She was his goddess. She was his past, present and future. She was this desperate tortured soldier’s dream. She took a deep breath. “You may”.

He groaned, and cried out and She felt his enraptured embrace about her waist as finally his mouth, his tongue, his lips pressed in desperate ardour to her sex. Shaking and sobbing against Her soft flesh she felt his tongue for the first time part her lips and moved gratefully and worshipfully inside her. All his long years of longing and desire were suffused into that act of desperate love and submission.

He groannnned a deep male sound that was the most exquisitely desperate and desiring sound she had heard in her life. This was the first kiss of this kind she had ever been given, and its passion obliterated anything that had ever been before and any kiss that she would ever receive again.

She arched her back as all went dark, and she pressed forward into the exquisite pleasure of the tongue moving inside Her. Her fingers clawed in his hair desperately as he groaned again and she felt it, as a deep low vibration inside Her.

She felt his soul in that most passionate and worshipping of kisses, and she knew that for this boy-turned-soldier, who had once grinned for the camera so dashingly and naively before all the horrors of this war began, this kiss and moment of bliss was a magic that could cheat death.

She felt the deepest, truest pleasure she had ever known as she ground down on his tongue and rode his face, her hips with a life of their own as she took her pleasure. She rode the storm of his desperation, taking his sobs, and trembling ardour deep into her sex. Riding it. Transforming it. She fucked the storm of his need, and it became her own storm. She gasped and clawed into his hair one last time and viciously demanded every ounce of him.

She screamed as the world collapsed around her, her body shaking with uncontrollable pleasure as she collapsed forward over him. She smothered his last wracking sobs with her sex as she fucked his tongue to completion, her juices and his tears running down her thighs. The storm had passed. The world had changed forever, for both of them.

Slowly the room returned into focus. A pale soldier on his knees, his face glistening, gazed up at a woman. They stayed this way a long time. They lay together right there on the floor, locked in an embrace.

Time passed, and the winter sun turned ashen, and then the room was in darkness.

“When do you leave?” she whispered into her boy’s ear.

“Tomorrow morning” he whispered back, a sudden leadenness returning to his voice.

Silence fell between them and in the distance she heard sirens. She cradled his head to her and pressed the warmth of her body to his.

Finally she spoke again. “I have one command for You as you go back to that horrible war”.

Imperceptibly he nodded. He was listening.

“Don’t die. Come back to me”.

A long silence followed as she held him close and again he nodded.

“Yes, my Goddess”, he whispered.

They fell asleep in each others arms.

The next morning, the dashing soldier embraced his Mistress and left again to fight in a horrible senseless war. He smiled as he left, that familiar fire burning deep in his handsome eyes.

“I’ll return, Goddess” he had whispered in her ear as the transport waited on the road behind him.

But he didn’t.