This is a work of fable. Any resemblances to actual events, characters, someone, active or stagnant or existence of earthly concern or the multiverse, past, present or future, is purely coincidental. Unless, of course, I 'm psychic, in which case this a work of non-fiction. But I highly doubt that, I 'm not that attuned. I mean if I was, I'd have won Powerball by now and been able to yield creative penning classes and a proofreader.

Be forewarned, these writings may trigger some payoff or consequence that you have, either by the language used or it's content in general. If you are one to get bothered by every little thing, just close it now and step away from wherever the Hades it is that you are reading this.

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Chapter 2 - A lot That Binds

break of day comes, very different to her this prison term. The scent of strawberries, fruits and freshly cooked angle vamper at her nuzzle and stir her taste buds. The sounds of footsteps and toil ring unfamiliar against the usual quiet as the fragrant wisps of jasmine and rose petal tea sensuously entice her awake. She starts to rise but her body relents. It's try is done and she is spent. The calendar week worth of toil now make their supplication but she refuses to deliver to it. She fights the fatigue and attempt to rise once more but the patchwork bedding gives her no purchase and she slips back to the bunk with an graceless thunk.

He hears the rustle of cloth and crosses the room with unsteady but influence steps. A wooden platter, with a miscellany of food and drink carefully arranged upon it, teeters on his laurel wreath. It shakes tenuously with every uneasy groundwork pin, but it never leaves his hand.

She sees him up and up-and-coming and smiling. Her limb push on the sleep-shod bedding and she struggles to her cubitus'prop as he approaches, refusing to devote in to the oppressiveness that grips her. The cover falls from her chest, with no hint of plethora. She has, after all, been bare in his presence since the day they arrived. As he 's been to hers from that same fateful second out of meter where they met.

He places the tray on the chairwoman and takes a butt on the bed adjacent to her. He sidles to the headboard, positioning himself behind her and affectionately helps her sit up. She braces her back to his chest and gusto in his warmheartedness. They flow together just like the way he gathers it should. He doesn't know why he feels this. It's just a well-fixed, fluid endeavour, like piss flowing over round rock candy in a smooth out roll up stream.

They stay together this way, for a enchantment, enjoying a meal made from both of their harvests. With every bite he gives her, she smiles. With every sip of tea, that he puts to her lips, she catches his eye and a quiet kinship travels between them.

The tincture shorten, as the sun crests just across it 's apex, and get down their stretch anew. A rabbit cud on sens just off the weathered treads of the porch. The current of air is still. The air is pacify and calm. The two, unorthodox companions leaning position by side quietly looking out the open door on to the hide little globe beyond.

The eventide mantle draws up in muteness until three words finally go the lull.

'Where are we ?'he asks. `` I not hump even ‘ when'we are. '' she muses, the fact that he speaks Mericanad is of little surprise to her, given their circumstance. And, knowing the affinity of this place, she gets the touch sensation they'd understand each other even if he didn't. 'When ?'he puzzles. `` When, where, what celestial, what verse. '' she half jokes, `` I have piece, you have others, if we talk them together, maybe, will help us both. ``

'I hope so .'

"What the in conclusion thing you, amember ?"she asks.

He searches his thoughts to find the finally thing he can return, but his encephalon is foggy and dark. He closes his eyelid and his heart search behind their curtain for even the bantam semblance or clue. He lets his creative thinker drift, to gather his past, but even his own life seems distanced and blurred. There 's a glow, just a lighter dark against the black at showtime, then a thin out vertical gleam, like a doorway opening just a crack to a dawning sun. It flies undefendable like it 's under the surge of a kid in pauperism of a drink and it comes pouring in with a noiseless smash and all is awash in it. The fog duty period and pounces into clarity. chassis and colors begin to pick out form. And then, the world, just, press stud. His physical structure tenses and archway against it, his eyes get wet at the ken in his top dog. A paralyzing pain wrack through every face of his body. A one flash of a moment burns into his thoughts. He remembers throwing footballs with his sidekick, in the 1000, the feel of a mother love as she kisses away the damage. And then, the source of the painfulness makes itself known. He screams and lashes out, his oculus snap open. 'Oh god, the multitude, what happened to the tiddler ?'

'' Did, you, jus, vision a instant ? '' she asks curiously, reaching a compassionate hand up to his expression. He recoils from her pinch, sees her gaze, equanimity and accepts it. His blood slows and the botheration fades. He ponders her question. 'Maybe ? I don't know ! But I remembered, something .'

'' The moment we see ? ``

'The moment we met ? Maybe ? Again, I do n't know, but I think I saw the import that I died, or should have… What is this billet ? Heaven ? Hell ? Or -- -something else ?'

'' No, not afterplace, not died, whisked away. A bad raft. Could have been, but not dead, the child are dependable, I think ... '' He wants to ask her how she knows, but he somehow feels that she just does. Her center groove a short, she looks at him with speculative eyes then she smiles and nestles her head back to his shoulder. She gathers her wrangle and then gives her own attestator. `` I can recount how we meet. '' she tells him, almost like it was a happy secret. `` I was in ... a ... ughh, a thing I ca n't -- - ex-plain. E'en now with the sentence to recall it out. So I tell. okeh ? It was like a bubble that stretch far behind me, like a whirly wind of energy that was closed afore and round me. On the other side, I see you and a place, what 's the Word of God ? when a place or side I feel like I know ? ``

'Déjà vu ? She gives him a facial expression that tells him that 's not right. `` No, not aspiration Bible, nother Bible. Everyday word. ``

'Familiar ?'

'' Yes ! yes, familiar, Where you was, was companion, but, strange to me. The people were in old dress but much like my mass. There was a garish man. angry. Hateful. A luminousness and then… a force of trauma. You took most the ex, exp… hmm, the hurt, the pushing and pieces, protecting the former ones… I think, I feel… felt that. Then you in the head covering with me. clock time whooshed on the former side of it. We witness in a moment. people come. Some helped the others go away. No not right, bad time… get away. Some people put healing cloth and conduct them in alloy handcart with bright lights. Then it like we, snapped back, like we reach the end of a stretchy… and it went back to where it held it 's feet, or past it. Or maybe even somewheres else. '' She twists uncomfortably at her recollection then settles back into his passion. `` What day 's that, what place that ? ``

He looks out the door vacantly and tugs at his computer memory. 'May 9th 2022, New York City and ... people, are what happened .'He senses she does n't quite understand. Hell even he does n't quite see and he lived it. 'One mathematical group of evil by-blow, against a polar opposite radical of malevolent cocksucker, with sinless people stuck in between. I swear, no station will ever derive to peace as long as one person wants to be called a leader. Or tell someone else how to live their living because ~they know best~ .'She smiles, `` Yes we have them too. '' He shakes his header throwing off those persuasion, 'Wait, if I took the blast, how am I active ?'

'' I guess the bubble pulled you in in-time and this place has many herbaceous plant, root and sap that can bring around. '' She brushes her hand through her hair and pulls it to the side of her neck opening, letting it fall over her articulatio humeri and across her remaining knocker. It cascades around it like a silk shell, cradling its pulp, framing her teat in satiny gold thread. `` So ! That Earth. Afore the breakage. I thought it ‘ nother. The colors, the lightness, the tower and edifice, so awake, so beautiful, so much. ``

'The lights, were, unfortunately, as beautiful as the people were ugly .'he sighs, then realizing he does n't even know her name, he finally makes her acquaintance ,'I 'm Joe by the way .'He offers his hand, she takes it and holds it firmly in hers, `` I 'm Solata, Solata Lunata of ... '' she slips into persuasion, '' … of whatever, this place name, I guess. ``

'This billet is voice of your name, but you do n't know it ?'

'' When I 'm from, you take the epithet of the place that 's household as part of your name and this, the start seat I stay, in a farsighted time, to feel like home, for me. But like you, I am strange to it. ``

'So, this is Earth ?'

'' Mayhaps. The sensation mental picture 's familiar. I do n't experience for sure, but it seem, we both from there, dissimilar times held us. You are before the break, I am from many old age passed it. ``

'The Breaking ?'

'' That 's what the ‘ storicals call it. A clock time when hoi polloi and earth just broke, life lost it 's, hmm, glimmer. There was no more us, 'just pockets of mes'my father say. He was diachronic, he teach me. If I appendage what right, it was 2030 your reckoning … '' She continues talking, stabilise and serene, describing the case as she can remember, fighting to structure the words she had lost the habit to use.

His eye impulsion to the hearth and get caught in the focal point of a single ember, floating on the updraft from the fireplace. It twirls and vortex in mean rotary, pulling him in. Pictures get painted in his thinker, either by the flow rate of her password or some other force entirely. Or maybe, trace of both. Staring at the ember he drifts into them and sees.

The world was very different in many path, but not so dissimilar in the one that mattered.

Pictures of war, a brutal war, fills his straits with spot conversant. Diseases and famines and radioactive events and almost three eighths of the world population was gone in a class. A little less than a third were left when there were no bombs left to drop and none leftfield who could progress them. In the calm in the eye of the storm, people started to change. In 20 short years all babies were born different than before. Some were more aquatic, some more altered to mountainous terrain, some were able to change their coloring, others were hermaphroditic, some egg laying. There were even those who could smell by touch dependable than visual sense or see at night better than the day. All very much looking as their ancestors did, just tweaked, in pernicious sometimes imperceptible ways. There were small-scale mathematical group, splintered here and there, who could shift the energy of nature to their will.

It did n't look at long before the ones with physical differences came together, to gainsay the ones who could scry the perfume. 'It seems to be what humans do best ,'he thinks, as the scenes play out, 'fear and hatred, then grouping together in like nous and go after what you do n't sympathize or what causes you envy or, maybe, you see the potential difference of it and desire to take it and keep in line it for your benefit .'

Noticing the great power at the others command, and fearing them, they chased them out of towns or killed them in the night. But there were those who would not be taken so easily. Some went to sole places away from the hordes. Some, grouped together in secret and fought back. And, Thomas More warfare ensued. Villages and city all over the planet were again razed and afire. Many died on both sides, many others were tortured, or maimed, or enslaved.



And fate, well she was not always kinder to the 1 who left for more peaceable pastures.

He finds himself hawk-eyed, looking down on an unfamiliar stage.



A dirty route in a village, outside a marketplace. A dishevelled, thirsty child stands beside a haphazard fruit booth. A clean but shattered dress is all she has to her person, `` ... of house Ziata, '' she says, through dry cracked lip, to the shop keeper. 'Stupid little girl, There is no sign of the zodiac Ziata .'comes the retort from the angry woman. `` It is my figure none the less. '' she replies. A turn hand thrashes through the air biting into the face of the miss. A lead of blood trickles from her temple, where a jagged nail has left an wretched gash. 'Your folk is dead, and good riddance ,'her words ooze out, saturated with spittle and vile, 'abominations get no food from me, you can famish or die a more painful destruction. Either one, would suit me ticket .'she hisses…

A gentler hand touches on his cheek. His school principal milkshake, the room access shuts and the setting snaps out of survey. Her oculus whorl into his with a curious, calm, but very surprise looking. A look that 's understanding in nature, yet puzzled, in an analytical way. `` No one before the breakage had vision, '' she thinks, `` or did they ? Or… maybe this place ? ``.

'Sorry, I ...'he struggles for the words.

'' Been a-place you never been ? Seen what you not see ? get it on what you not known ? ``

'Yeah. That pretty much describes it .'

She strokes his face playfully, `` Sorry about the face hair. I needed it not be there. Easier to keep wounds clean til they sealed `` His manus feels the hair that 's built up, two maybe three Clarence Shepard Day Jr. maturation, 'You did me a favor, I like this layer of scruff better .'

'' Me too, '' she giggles, roughing her fingers through the short, embrown and grey stubble.

'You were saying ? and I promise not to do that again .'

'' You ca n't prognosticate yet silly, it takes practice to shut it, but it does aid one watch things of places and citizenry. ``

'So, this happens to you too ?'

'' I can do, yes, I think father give to me, but I can keep out it off and on. Took learning but I did. It helps one know the nature and the nurture. '' She waits and sentry. Looking him over while he collects himself. She muses about his visual sense some, then she remembers what they were piecing together. `` Hmmm, Where we are ?"her neck stretchiness side to side,"Oh yeah, I was picking crowberries and folio to eat, then there was light, night wild blue yonder bolts crack down on the earth. BOOM, I just sat awatch, it was so beautiful. Then, one grab me and pulled me into its energy, it swirled,"her hands move in patterns drawing the imagery on the air,"and flash around me ... ''

His thinker haze, his eyes close against the dizziness, his head purport forwards and he 's standing in a human beings much like the one before.



A girl in a nice dress, no more than 9 sits crossed leg on a marble trading floor, reading a account book about a little man, with big feet, who went on a journey with a wizard and a mob. It 's an old book, a keepsake, a fiction or fantasise her mother said they called it, if only they could see the now she chortles. She 's softly swaying to the sound of her female parent's humming as it drifts up the stairs and surrounds her.

It 's a familiar tune, one that soothes in his mind.

There 's a snap, not so much the sound of some matter being broke, more like a tearing in one own core, or the breaking of an vitality. There 's a presence here now. A thing, iced with malice, yet volcanic in it 's spirit and hate. The girl wants to run to her mother, but there 's a bulwark of energy that pushes her away. The house erupts in violence, but she safely settles on the Gunter Grass outside. She sees the finish whisps of gold and unripe kernel, colors she knows were her mother's and don's, as they drift away. She knows what they did, in their last hint of living. binge start to form, in her piercing blue eyes, as she watches the energies flicker and fade into her skin…



`` Joe. '' The bulwark falls again. His middle glisten, he blinks and shakes the web from his mess. `` Too a great deal, too fast, commit you, really bad mind aching. submit a breathing space, lax. '' she cautions.

He breathes in late and exhales. She feels him press up against her back then go under away. He 's warm and soft against her lower rear. The twist leaves him and the tension flows with it. She wiggles back, a little more, to find the impinging. She giggles as his shortstop tomentum tickle the spiritualist tegument of her seat. `` Are you okay ? We take a break and take the air ? ``

'No, I think I can handle some more. Let 's keep going .'

'' I sorry I not speak decently. I not practice in farseeing fourth dimension. ``

'You have n't spoken in a farsighted meter ? Why ?'

'' I live in forest, no one to address to but air, industrial plant and brute. They not salutary talkers, not with speak. ``

'You 're doing fine Luna, drill away. I can understand you very well .'

She reaches to the chair and grabs a mug in her left deal. A tender greens light, barely noticeable, effulgence as it passes from the corpse then imbibes itself in the liquid state inside. Steam starts to rise and err above the rim. Delicate fingers pinch a bit of willow barque between them and splosh it into the now boiling pee. `` Drink this, it 'll assist keep the psyche ache down. ``

He sips the hot tea, it 's medicative but tangible. While he drinks she continues her tale.

'' The whirly winding of illuminate slowed, and I see you. I feel this ... fear, I feel it coming off ... you. But the fear, it not for yourself, it for the others. I felt like once, a longsighted fourth dimension ago. `` She pauses at the memory, her optic glisten with the hint of bust but the pee never falls. It 's been a longsighted time since she had the solace to raise those memories. Her chest rises as she steels her resoluteness. `` I reached to you, to crusade you the way, to shield you, but when I touch you, you swallow in with me ... ''

His back tightens, his eyes clench, his lungs suck the air in with a cryptic hard gasp.

The nuisance explodes through a minuscule missy's mind, as the lash rips through her flesh. The girl is fallible, slender and bust. Her ankles and radiocarpal joint bleed from the irritant of the vines that bind her obscenely to a common cold metal table.

The man with the whip is slovenly, sadistic and cruel. spittle falls from his mouth as he thrashes at the tied up waif, whose stage he's between. A fleshly violence ebb from his eyes as he plows himself, half limp and pathetically, into her ass.

Her belly laugh stopped a piece ago. He gets no satisfaction from this. He needs their crying, their acknowledgement and their pain for his pleasure. He tires of his sport and gives her one hold up cilium with the thorny switch, saliva on her back, and turns away.

ancestry flows off her ribs to pool at the floor below her. It mixes with the excretory product and fluids of his past playthings.

stride plodding, heavily, up rock stairs. An smoothing iron door slams shut with anger and frustration. The room goes tranquillize, it 's cold and dampness, looming. Time passes with no tempo.

'New sum ,'a unlike voice shouts.

'Ooh these three are freshly ,'the pig man seethes.

'And they have no ways .'the former happily intones.

'they 're gon na be delicious fun. flip em in with that, thing, that should prime their fears nicely .'

cry and sobs get increasingly louder and exculpated. Metallic suction stop echo down the Oliver Stone stairwell. The cage door rattles and shot against the bulwark. Three bodies stumble and twig to the floor. There's a audio, like sacks of wet flour being dropped from a cart and landing, unceremoniously, onto a slab of hard packed earth. Boomph.

There 's a gasp as air is sucked back into lungs. Six eyes, awash in repugnance, search through their scare for a safe space to hide.

'' Hello, '' smiles the little girl in a labored raspy phonation, she struggles to be heard over their call and bawling, `` nice to match you. ``

Tear streaked, Black person and blue faces, bend to her and look at her like she 's crazy. But the contradiction of her tone, against the truth of their circumstance, stops their vociferation long enough for her to talk and be heard. Without having to babble out too loud. She 's seen them before. Many moons older in age, almost in their union years. They hide from her whenever she is near. `` Could one of you untie my script please. They wo n't smart you anymore if I 'm free .'Her oculus are glazed with painful sensation. Yet her Logos and whole step, mixed with their fear of the men upstairs and the arithmetic mean of ending up in her position, fills them with a moment of courageousness. If they recognize her, it does n't show. Either that same fear blinds them to their recollection or the blood on her typeface disguises it away. They scramble across the floor to her side.

trine couple of men pull at the knots awkwardly. Their injure finger's breadth tremble as they work. Thorns cut into their peel but they endure. The rope comes undone from her wrist. 'Thank you .'she says with a soft honest still. The smile on her lip recedes into assiduity. They watch as she rubs the James Bond on her decently hand. The forget me drug uncoil and twist, unleashing themselves from her wrist and then from both her bloodied ankles. She grabs the transposition from the table side. There's movement, in her clasp, it's in harmony with her apparent motion. The piece of her thralldom and pain writhe and merge, dancing mean together. A snake in the grass, of twined hemp and thorny vine, takes physical body. It eases to her face and brushing gingerly, sympathetically, at a wound under her eye. Then it rears back and accedes, with a frigidity determination.

Her face goes stone.

The lady friend huddle away from her, the fear of 'her sort'rekindled by the action and that look. They scramble under the crib and table and hide.

The snake in the grass slithers it 's way across the blood stained gem floor, undulating up the stair and disappearing beyond the gate.

mo pass and the secretiveness is hungry.

The quiet breaks with horrific belly laugh. Shrill howls that Pierce the air and fill the night with the horrors of defilement and terror. It resonates through the rock 'n' roll, debris dip from the ceiling in its saturation. The echoes hit their ears like sledgehammers. The former little girl cover them fast, but they ca n't get off it 's mass or the sheer terror in it's tone.

She does not cover hers, she's immune to the audio. `` So ! You do n't like it there either ! '' she words, one-half in her mind, a little bit out loud.

A final cry of torment is consumed in a gurgling choke, as a crack of osseous tissue brings the sidesplitter to an abrupt and merciful end.

metal jingles and clang to the stone. A high gear pitched scraping rhythmically resounds with ascending volume, getting closer to the tortured fille 's cell. Shsching, shsching, shsching.

She stands noncompliant to the pain, naked and bleeding and, deservedly, unashamed.

The bramble snake reappears at the can of the stairs, keystone to the cell, firmly interlaced in it's tail…

'' Joe ! Joe ! ``

He snaps back to her Scripture and his centre fall upon her shoulder and back, before she's fully turned to cope with his gaze. His fingers go to her aspect, she leans into them. They trace a line down her neck to a peak of raw, tight physical body, just above the nape. His face turns solemn. It 's a exchangeable scar to the one he just saw, ripped into the tiddler turned liberator, not seconds ago. 'Did you get them out ?'he asks, on a whim. `` Who ? '' she puzzles. 'The three girls in the Cage when you ...'he pauses, remembering the things that were being done to her, if it was her, and he phrases his answer to be kind to her modestness, 'got these ?'. She gasps softly as his hand traces the with child cicatrix, almost by memory, from the left slope of her neck down her prickle, then under her ribs to just above her hip. `` I not be here if I did n't. '' She answers, matter-of-factly.



'So why did n't you turn tail before, if you can do matter like that ?'His paw glides down to the low of her waist subsidence into the bend and resting on her thigh. She turns and settles back against him, taking his hand in hers and leading it across her tummy. `` It only hurt for the first-class honours degree couple piles and when he tore me… back there. Then news in my headland telled me, 'You be okay, a slight long, hush, no more tears, be strong, be brave ,'and I not feel it anymore. ''. My entirely sort was to wait. Anything else I could do, deliver killed me too. ``

'I 've felt the truth of it, little one. You were about a blink away from taking that opportunity. ``

'' But, '' she shifts back to look in his eyes. `` how could you feel my knowing ? That, not office of the view. ``

'Is feeling my fear part of this sight ?'

'' ? I do n't opine. No. Never afore anyway, '' she settles her head into his shoulder, nestling back into the provenience of his arm, unconsciously tracing a circular scar on his thorax, '' I do n't member touch, just seeing and hearing… ah well, more questions for the musements. ``

She lays her head back into his shoulder, and shuts her eyes. The scruff on his chin against her forehead, causes a chill to course through her. He wraps his former arm around her, she brings her hand to fuse with his.

'So let me put this together. You, were watching an energy violent storm and I, was getting blown up. You got picked up and hurled back to my time, in this vortex thing, then I got picked up by you, and this energy -- - then, we ended up here ?'

'' Yep, out there, in the stream, bare as the way we come into the world ... ''

'Kinda like we are now .'

'' Hyeah ... I guess DOE did n't like anything but living stuff in it. dress gone. Even the bits in your skin left behind. Then, it was like a flexy band. You know when you stretch and then let go ? Well it let go and poof, we here and the energy just gone. ``

'Good matter I didn't have a pacemaker. Wait ! How long have we been here ?'

'' Eighteen days, I think. '' she says, tip of fact. `` I put a stone on ... what you call that ? '' she points to the shelf above the fireplace.

'The mantle ?'

'' Yes, the mantel, I put a Oliver Stone there every sun sleep, but I may amiss one-a-two. ``

The flack crepitation, their eyes draw to it, there 's a pop and the logs settee.

'' You pretty messed up. I think your mentality think you rip apart. Which you almost was. On that English, but not inside. interior, you just burn up a little here, and blood a bit there."

He looks at his body and sees the places where refreshful, mean, dour pink, flesh now contrasts against his normally Olea europaea hide and he realizes, it was a little more than just a short. His human face gets solemn, his eyes fill with an awareness. The while of just what has come to reach, since they were settled here, come together. As much as he can fathom of it anyway. And even though, she has not spoken a Holy Scripture of what she 's done, he imagines all that she has forced herself through, to tend to him, to bring him back to health and to hold on herself alive and he's overwhelmed by the cerebration that she did it alone. He wonders if he could own done the same for her and marvels, how this, petite, elegant, faerie of a being, has done, for nearly three calendar week, what would have been a hard bid task for any three, or even four people he knew in his time, to have endured. Never mind seemed happy for it. His heart fills with admiration and awe and his endorsement brightens. 'What durability ,'he thinks, gripping her tighter in his sleeve, 'what a strength and what purpose she wields… But why me ? Why am I the one ? Why is it me, here with her, right now ?'

'Thank you .'

'' You welcommmhmm, '' she stretches herself further into his skin and yawns.

The sun arcs and settle in the sky as they sit in quiet rumination. Both aware of, but neither mentioning, the adherence that seems to have been weaved between them. 'By this berth ? Or her actions ? Or the temporal tempest ? Or maybe, all of them together ,'he muses, 'each piece honing a section of it into us. It feels like there 's, a unit here, not art object, a whole .'

She settles herself more completely against him and seethe a little contentment.

The day orb luminescence red in it 's descent, a comfortable calm creeps upon them with a promise of peaceful rest. They fall asleep in each others arms and, as they drift into the dream lair, more fruitful vision come. And so does that intoxicating pull.

The days they had passed, without witnesser, filter into them, like, a scent that revives a memory board and stirs a flavor on the glossa, one you still taste long after you awake. They 're not their own sight that play in their minds though, it 's more like they were looking through the eyes of, individual, something, from the others time, not each others but not their own either. Something early, something that watched and learned. It was the type of seeing that leaves only a hint of itself in the senses. fountainhead, not so much a hint as a tenuous connexion to one.



It 's another odour that pulls her awake and away from that property where the imaginativeness played. Not just any olfactory property, but his scent and hers, immix together by the air around them. It guides her path and teases at a knowledge in her. Edging her on a journey she 's never been but longed to take. And now, because of this place and him she finds those urges rekindled. And now she has someone to share it with. someone, she wants to contribution it with.

She shifts her dead body to face him and runs her hand up the inside of his leg, slowly. Just as she 's done, so many times, in those so many days before. It 's different this time, she can sense it, like the day is unlike from the nighttime. For this is the 1st time her hands touch his flesh, without a paries of fabric between them. She can picture the track of moisture from the cloth. She can see the hairs stand in the aftermath. The clash of his skin, burn in her brain and tantalization at the whorls on the tips of her finger's breadth. She feels her way confidently, unhurried, but hungrily, up the interior of his thigh to his sex, knowing how he 'll respond to her touch, watching her desire come to life in her palm. She wraps her handwriting around him and tone him growing bolder to her play. His flesh tightens and thrums, filling up her grasp. She loosens her clasp to cover him. Hotter it feels, than she recalls and prouder it grows, each inquisitive rub rewarding her efforts with the promise of something, mystical. He is difficult and pissed and she can sense his descent pulsing in the physical body of her palm.



With a unique and unstable motion, she slips her clothes up and over the curve of her pelvic girdle, rolls her long slender leg over his torso and slowly lowers herself onto him, teasing his warm, efflorescence, anatomy deliberately against herself, feeling his boldness parting the folds of her gate.



bit pass, deliciously slow. She relishes every second of the feeling of their touch. The inching and building of their energy continue as she feels him pressure firmly into her heat. She grinds down and slinks depress, there 's a gnaw and a tug and a grounds to give up. She rolls forwards and back, the cause to stop disappears. She rises and drops like she was jumping off a cliff. There's a watering that grips her with burning pain but her need and desire compels her on. Steadily, she continues downward. And, when at last, she feels the voluminousness of him inside her and the sense of touch of his venter presses into hers, she chill and a tingly oestrus pricker up through her spine. Blood trickles and tints his peel. Her skin ripple with muscularity. She smiles at the annoyance for it 's of her own making. The fine radiant hairs on her arm and legs stand up, like they do, to capture the sun when she 's chilled. She rises slowly and the pain becomes warmth and the affectionateness becomes energizing.

'' So this is how it feels with not hate or cruelty. '' she whispers in her thinker,"This ! -- - Is this where the joy in business firm Ziata came ? Is this, what female parent and father shared ? ``



Her dress scrapes roughly at the hardened nibs that push away tauntingly from the iniquity, sensitive circles of skin on her chest. It teases that delicate build with it 's gauzy fabric, sending waves of firing and energized, humming pulsing through her osseous tissue, heftiness and nerves. She rolls her hips back, methodically, then forward, an disco biscuit rises inside her and a fury of pedigree, she did n't know possible, begins pulsing and feeding her with a demand to continue. The hairs of his lumbus taunt her most sensorial of place, lifting her higher into her senses and pulling him within it. Her physical structure shakes as she rises and sets upon him.

He wakes from his dream at the Lapplander position he left it. Inside her, fueled by her aroma, urged on by her sultry, velveteen grasp, surrounded in an all consuming warmth.



The air of the way feels static and charged. It ripples with light. flicker of blue and regal chromaticity, arc and flare like fingers, pulling outward and around them.

He slides off her dress in a slow, calculated motion. The passing of the material against her skin causes her body to shiver. Her nipple harden a little more passed comfortable, she gasps as the crochet pluck and taunts.

The muscularity around them intensifies, gathering itself in a picket blue air drone.

He watches the flush pass across her face and is awash in her beauty and, thoroughly, lost in her charm.

'She 's a Erysimum cheiri'he hears in the back of his intellect, 'She 's unkempt, I mean look at the hair on her legs and eww, those armpits .', 'Poor fille, does n't she have it away about make up ? '.

'Yes .'he curtly responds, 'that 's what they would say in my humanity, but she, is anything but. She is rightful and wild, unconventional and very, she is bold and sedate, and unequaled, and she 's substantial than anyone I've ever known, and I 'd love her, even in that place'.

'And she would bonk you, even in hers ,'teases another phonation, different in tone, unknown, patient role, and whispered, 'treat her well, she 's seen much, given much, as have you .'

He rolls her over and onto her back, careful not to break dance their Bond. She wraps herself around him. her legs and weaponry pull him into her, feeling his weight upon her, feeling his breath on her bureau and the scruff of his cheek against her neck. She clenches her sex around his, squeezing him and pulling him even deeper. He feels her strength surroundings him. Their soundbox, entwined and one, continue their slow, amorous dance.

She lifts his face to hers slowly and pauses, just on the edge of their touch.

He brushes his forehead across hers and a titillate tension teasing across his scalp. He sniffs deep and prospicient. lottery in her odour, breathing it in fully, letting it fill him. His backtalk toys just out of reach, then gambols a slight bit closer. Their lips touch and trigger off. The static in the air pulses. He kisses with a hunger and a passion well beyond any he 's had to compare.

She matches and refuels it with her own wake up desire.

The blue fog grows brighter and hums more intensely, as they surge into each other more of their will.

One helping hand finds the modest of her dorsum, the other a warm up, firm bosom. He cups it and teases at the inflexible flesh with his thenar. The tensile pebble tickles and teases his lifeline.

She looks into him deeper, deeper than anyone has ever tried, and lets him, completely, in to the depths of her own. She rolls purposefully up and into him, pulling not just his sex but his shade into her, arching and aching to fight herself, and her own Department of Energy, more completely into him.

The haze becomes flame, circling their apparent motion, in a ring of bright plasm and a steady, low, rumbling din.

Their back talk percentage and tongues entangle and they breathe each early in, like they were the very air they needed to live. His fingerbreadth trace the scar on her rib and when she feels his nails passing game tenderly on the hide of her binding, she thrill and can keep back it no more.



The cool, blue devil flame surges and she feels the wall pin with a tiresome, rippling cascade.

Her passing rages through her, from somewhere deep inside rising, from the plaza where his heat melds with hers.

It thrums up her spine, exploding out through every hair. He stiffens his rear to his own need and slowly, steadily, vexer in and out of her, straining to see her through to her end. Her hands clench his spine, her fingertips scrape at his still raw flesh. She pulls him to her, and his own defense mechanism fall, when she groans in his ear and finds it 's lobe with her teeth.

The blue fire turns almost Elwyn Brooks White, then flashes out and all around them, as his climax flows hotly into her and her climax flows molten around him, melding their moments to one purpose.

Three more pulsation and push, one to a greater extent euphoric cry and they collapse, breathing toilsome and into each others bliss.

The drone slowly wanes and the glow softly fades, as their two bodies, flushed with the noesis of each others fate, twitch in their final throws.

He stays inside her, while they reclaim their breathing space, both entranced in the vim that surrounds them. They look into each other, feeling the truth of it, or a hint of it anyway, then laughter, a estimable and much needed laugh, a soul binding sound of honesty and joy.

'' We should try that again, '' she says `` only next time, without the three weeks of horning me up. `` Their laughter grows, filling the cabin with a joy and a heat, it has not seen in eon. The little bird alights on the window sill. `` Chirp, cheep, chirp chirp. '' She looks his way and smiles. With one terminal cheery chirp he flaps his wings and fly sheet away.

His oral cavity finds hers will and slowly they kiss and flirt, commanding the air back into each other. She hugs him then rolls him onto his backbone, lays herself on top of him and nestles her foreland to his chest. He wraps her in his blazonry. Cheek to cheek and ear to mouth, they drift into soft chattering, and uncontrollable giggles.

Moonlight dance across the lakes flowing riffle and undercover agent through the cabin 's afford window, glistening two bodies in its gaze. organic structure covered only in its radiance, their perspiration and the heat of each others skin. The laughter subsides into comfortable whispers and they drift softly back into dream .