Work Text:
"You're going to be bad for business, I see," I whispered as his lips met mine. Just after that, everything narrowed to the feel of his lips against my skin. I felt like I was spinning across the clouds again, dancing with him in the sky to the music of the rain.
Christian. My Christian. Sweet untouched boy, mine to hold and touch and teach. Mine to love.
Someone I could be free to love, who would not leave the next morning in a shower of golden coins or jewels. Suddenly the simplest gift of even flowers would have been precious at his hands, because they came from him; suddenly my eyes were opened to see this silly love thing as more than just a game.
I felt like my head was spinning. Oh, this feeling inside. I knew now what it was that Christian had felt that first disastrous evening in the elephant. It had been love.
He loves me! Christian LOVES me. As the kiss finally broke, I caught myself staring deep into his eyes, seeing something I'd never even thought about with any of my previous...lovers wasn’t the right word for those sordid transactions.
And suddenly I felt tears spring to my eyes, wishing that I could have been the simple innocent girl that I never was, for him. Someone who would be worthy of him, not a girl who had been dragged through the sludge of high-class prostitution, who already felt so jaded.
Christian cupped my cheek in his hand; he looked back at me with a tender expression on his face.
"Never knew I could feel like this," he whispered.
"Neither did I," I said, and leaned forward to kiss him.
Our kisses were shared. I had never kissed anyone like a lover. I had never been kissed as though I were a lover instead of a temporary possession. I had never been kissed like this.
Oh, Christian was not an expert at the art by any means. I spared a jealous moment to wonder if he had kissed anyone else, any girl in his hometown, any of the women out there on the street, anyone, ever. And then I decided I did not care. He was with me now and that was all that mattered.
"My heart is singing," I told him, quietly, not quite knowing the meaning of the words, but certain of the passion behind them.
"So is mine," he said, taking my hands. We danced across the room to the music of an unheard tune, swaying together. All that I could feel was him and me and the fragile ground beneath our feet.
He started laughing then, gently, and spun me into his arms. I turned slightly and realized why he had laughed -- we had danced our way over to the pile of cushions. I smiled up at him, perfectly willing for the first time in my life.
"We don't have to -- " he looked a little nervous as he said the words, "right now."
"What are you going to do, practice?" I asked, laughing. "Come here, darling."
We found ourselves on the cushions in the next few moments, our bodies and hands and legs tangled up together, all our clothes still on.
More kisses. The taste of him, like alcohol and faint smoke and subtle sea salt and a deeper, richer taste that was his own and perfect. The way he laughed when I licked at the juncture between throat and collarbone. The way he groaned when I traced a hand down his spine. The way his erection leaped against me when I moved under him.
"H-how do you get out of this dress?" he asked me, finally, looking helpless.
I smiled, wrinkling my nose at him. "Like this," I said, and proceeded to turn over. "Unbutton it," I told him, and he did, kneeling over me with a look of awe and more than a little trepidation.
The dress came off easily, but then there were the corsets to unlace. I was almost panting when they finally came off -- getting them to cooperate was always a struggle. But I finally slipped out of them and knelt on the cushions beside a certain awestruck lover, who was gazing at my body with more than a little wonder.
"Need a little -- help with that?" I said, beginning to unbutton his shirt.
"Ye-es," he gasped, and then looked into my eyes again with a shy smile. "You're so beautiful."
I had heard those words before, uttered in the same tone before, a thousand times, but this was the first time my heart leaped up in response.
"You're not so bad -- yourself," was all I said though, and pulled off his shirt, revealing a chest that was very well muscled indeed for a writer. Briefly I wondered if he had worked on a farm when he was younger, but laid the thought aside for another time -- I had more pressing business.
It was not business, though. It was love. Love. For the first time ever, I was in love. Hopelessly, totally.
Why, I didn't know. I don't think I'll ever know. I can only say that I would rather be with him and be on the street than live in a castle on the Rhine.
Simple as that. I bent down to kiss him and my breasts brushed against the light fur of his chest.
It was that first touch, first feel of my body against his, that sparked my desire. Suddenly I wanted him and I wasn't burning on low heat anymore. I fell into his embrace, and we started kissing again as we both struggled to get his trousers off.
I threw the offending clothing across the room, where it landed with a solid thwack against the door. But we didn't care; we were gone, lost to our passion.
He kissed his way down my throat and across my breast to my nipple. I pushed against him, liking the feel of his tongue on my body. He was home to me, and my body responded to his touch in a way no one else had ever brought out.
He was shy, a little hesitant, a little nervous, but that only added to his beauty. Everyone else had been so jaded, touching me like I was just another in a list of thousands. Christian touched me like I was a china cup and would break.
My fingers went up to tangle in his dark hair, and he raised his head to kiss me again.
"Christian," I whispered. "I love you." My hands went wandering, down the curve of his flank, tracing the backs of his legs. I was not following the prescribed ritual of arousal that all courtesans learn, but was exploring the body of my lover.
He seemed to like it. Our kisses grew more forceful with the moments. When my hands finally brushed against his cock, I felt him jerk against me and moan into my hair.
"Are you ready?" he whispered.
I smiled. "Are you?" And I took hold of him, gently putting him inside my body.
Inside me. And the wonder of it exploded over my senses, startling me with the ferocity of it. I gasped out loud as he began to move, slowly, so slow I could feel every ridge and contour of his erection. He looked down at me, and our eyes met.
"Until the end of time," he gasped out.
"Yes," I whispered, and it was part gasp, part answer.
We moved together, back and forth in a gentle rhythm that time before time had perfected. His body fit against mine like it had been made for that very purpose, and I gasped as I wondered if perhaps it had.
We would have loved to keep up that slow pace forever, to make love until the sun rose, but both of us were tired and both of us were passionate. Little by little the tempo sped up.
At last he touched something inside me that made me arch up off the bed. "Again," I groaned out. "Oh yes."
He did. Again and again and again, harder and faster each time. He was breathing hard now and his eyes were closed tight, thrusting into me with a single-minded intensity.
Suddenly he opened his eyes and looked into mine, passion-glazed. "Satine, my love," he gasped out, and almost immediately I felt the white-hot rush of him spilling out inside of me.
I followed him at that, stars exploding in front of my eyes, sun and moon and tree and flower dancing before me, the world fading to the feel of his body over mine and his hands against my skin.
It was a long time before I could move. Tiny aftershocks went through my body whenever he shifted. I felt languid and ever-so-happy.
When I finally did move, it was only to cuddle into his body and whisper a final few words.
"I will love you until my dying day," was all that I said. I do not even know if he heard the words, for he was already asleep.
I laughed under my breath, and pulled a blanket over us, curling in with him. "Suddenly the world is such a perfect place," was my last thought before I, too, fell into dreams.