| Subject: Part 4 |
Author:
KGilbert
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Date Posted: 09:30:52 12/13/01 Thu
In reply to:
KGilbert
's message, "Twin Souls (NC-17)" on 09:13:25 12/13/01 Thu
It wasn't like it mattered. Not only did he not expect it, he was completely overwhelmed as it was--was groaning loudly enough from her present efforts to please her immensely.
She moved up and down in a rhythm, sucking him hard. His breathing was dangerously erratic, his hips trembling, as they met her pattern softly.
She wanted to continue, to coax his sweet warmth from him--which she was very close to achieving. There were two of him this time, after all; maybe she could fulfill one this way, while still saving the other for her hungry core.
"Noooo," she heard him groan. He pulled her away from his aching arousal, brought her up to face him.
His eyes were desperate. "I'm sorry, `Kita," he panted. "I have to have you." He barely had the breath to talk. "Please." He rolled her over until she was beneath him, kissing her deeply as he did. "Now."
Still panting, his hands stroked up her thighs. He held himself over her, his aching arousal pressed just against her depths. "Please," he begged desperately, waiting for her agreement.
She smiled at him and felt his length jump against her. "Oh, yes," she moaned, closing her eyes for a second.
He held her hips and skillfully adjusted his. His body was trembling slightly with his need for her. . . . God, that aroused her.
He leaned his head down to kiss her, his eyes focused on hers, as the head of his shaft began to press into her. She kissed him in return, watching him. Her hands ran down behind him, cupping him, and began to pull him into her.
They both groaned, as he started to enter her. The kiss continued lightly, his eyes still locked to hers, as they felt inch by throbbing inch slide slowly into her warm, velvet depths.
The kiss ended. They were transfixed by each other's eyes--able to view the missing part of their soul there.
They were each convinced that they were part of a miracle. Only something holy could create this. They were parts of some ancient mystery, their bodies made--molded perfectly for each other alone.
There had been others, of course; there would be again. But nothing-no one else would ever come close to this. It just wasn't possible. This was sacred--transcending all simple concerns of the flesh. This was a return to a natural, holy state--one most people travel through lifetimes without ever discovering.
They each saw--understood all this in each other's eyes. Every beautiful inch connected them--bound them together, allowed them to join all aspects of their love--mated bodies, mated souls.
He was so close to filling her completely now. No other man would ever feel like this, and she felt clearly through his eyes that he understood without question that no other woman would ever match her.
He had almost reached her limit. They both knew, without doubt, that this was what God had made them for.
He touched her core, reached into her as far as he could go. They both closed their eyes and rested their foreheads against each other. The sensations in this amazing, ethereal place were so intense; they shared all their emotions on top of a complete sensual understanding.
Their arms came up to hold each other, their hands stroking one another's backs. They ran their foreheads lightly against each other's, glorying in the feelings they shared.
"I love you, Michael." It was superfluous to voice it at this point, but she did anyway.
He groaned and held her closer, kissing her cheek. "My `Kita . . . I love you," her joined lovers moaned.
His hands massaged her shoulders, as he began to caress her depths in long strokes; her words had sparked his needs. One side of him flared in near-despair at the pain that still lay between them--and the pain yet to come; the other had an overwhelming desire to apologize, to try to make up for all the evil he had done her.
Her arms encircled him completely, as she felt him stroke her. She rested her head against his shoulder. She loved the way he felt in her-the incredible, controlled power he used to please her. She met his thrusts, glorying in being the recipient of his love.
His strokes were long and deep, almost exiting her every time before sliding back into her core. Her soft, yielding depths surrounded him, caressed him with each journey; she wrapped around his throbbing erotic ache, soothing it with her tenderness.
He needed to fill her, needed her to feel him give himself to her--to offer himself in the only way possible for him. "Mmmm," he heard her murmur, as he stroked her slightly deeper. He began breathing more heavily. . . . He couldn't take much more of this.
He pulled back and grabbed her head in his hands, moving her from his shoulder to allow him to taste the sweet depths of her mouth.
"Yes," she murmured between kisses. Her legs wrapped around him, allowing him further into her.
"Ohhhh," he groaned, leaning back from the kiss, his eyes closed. She felt so good, and he needed her so badly. He couldn't be controlled much longer.
The two sides of him merged completely; they both needed her, both had to love her with everything they were. Their reasons varied slightly, but their love was absolute. Without her now, they would die.
He groaned again. His tormented eyes caught hers. "I'm sorry, Nikita," he groaned. "I just can't be gentle tonight."
His mouth closed on hers without giving her time to react. He didn't need to; he felt all her emotions, knew she was in agreement with him. She needed him for all the same reasons.
His lips pressed against hers, pushing her head back into the bed, as he kissed her deeply--demandingly. His hands ran down her sides to hold her hips still, as he took control, needing--more desperately than he could possibly have expressed--to please her.
Her silken walls grabbed him, held tight around him, as he began to give her long, forceful strokes--helping him love her in the way they both so desperately needed. The head of his shaft sent warm shudders through her depths, as it helped thunder a path through her.
He stopped kissing her and leaned his head back. She felt so achingly good around him.
Her hands were over his on her hips, helping him to hold her down. She needed him like this--needed his love and desire to be dedicated to her alone, needed to know without doubt that it was real.
Her eyes were closed, as she felt his constant advances. She leaned up blindly to nip at his exposed neck, knowing by instinct where it was. "Michael," she moaned, as she kissed his exposed throat. "No-ohhh," she was interrupted in her thought when he began to stroke dedicatedly up and down one sensitive wall, leaving sweet fire in his wake. She panted, trying to catch her breath enough to speak. "No one else could ever . . ." She was about to say, "No one else could ever love me like this," but realized what a ridiculous understatement that was. "No one else exists," she murmured finally. She suckled at his Adam's apple.
"Uhhhh . . . `Kita," his harsh voice groaned. "`Kita . . . yes, please." His strokes were still long but were growing much harder. "I," he panted, "need you."
"Yes, Michael, yes," she groaned.
He looked down at her, as she refocused on his beautiful, impassioned face. His entire body was straining above her, was racked with tension. Every muscle was defined in his effort. His thrusts grew deeper.
He was groaning, trying to speak. She put her hands on his neck, holding on--stroking the back of it tenderly. "I want . . . to love you softly, `Kita." He groaned, closing his eyes briefly, holding her hips even closer, as he rode her further in--to her whimpering sigh. He looked at her again, his eyes begging for forgiveness, for understanding. "I can't." He panted. "I have to have you." His eyes were wet. "Forgive me."
He unwrapped her legs from around him and took hold of her silky, tension-filled thighs. He pushed them up her body and then ran his hands further up, placing her legs over his shoulders; the backs of her thighs ran along his chest. He was watching her eyes for a reaction.
He got one. She closed her eyes and moaned. "Oh Michael, yes." She groaned, pushing her hips toward him. "Harder . . . please," she begged. Fortunately, she was limber enough to get away with this position.
He could barely withstand how deep her desire for him ran. His need for her was a fire singing in his blood.
He drove into her with hard, sharp thrusts. She let out little gasping "Oh . . . Oh, yes"es with each stroke. In this position, there was an incredible friction for them both.
He rode her even further up her body. His hands held her hips where he needed them, bending her to their shared will--to the thrum of their overpowering desire for each other.
"Please, Michael . . . Ahhhhh," she cried, panting. "Please, yes. . . .More."
He leaned further over her, riding her hard, his eyes taking in the incredible, impassioned look on her face. "My God, Nikita," he moaned. The head of his shaft was beating into her core with an incessant, mounting rhythm. "There will *never* be anyone but you."
Her eyes were still closed, as she focused on the vibrating tension they were creating between them. He felt absolutely huge inside her, stretching her--filling her in a way so perfect it could never be described. The aching, singing warmth he was giving her was almost unbearable. She wasn't sure it was possible to take any more of him, but she was desperate to try.
"More, Michael," she moaned. She looked at him. "Please . . . give me a little more." She sounded--accurately--like an addict.
He groaned. "You want more of me?"
There were tears in her eyes. "Yes, yes . . . please." Her hands stroked in his hair.
He held her lower back. His eyes were wide and bright. He trapped her firmly beneath him, as his long strokes sang through her--hitting her incredibly deep. "More," he panted, "than that?"
"Ohhhh," she groaned. She dug her heels into his back, trying to hold herself up to him further. "Michael, yes . . . yes, please . . . more."
His hands moved to mid-back. He pumped himself further and further into her depths, his head hitting her hard. "Like that?"
"OHHHH!" She panted, eyes closing. "Ahhh, ohhh . . . more." She looked at him, eyes pleading and willing.
He looked a little frightened, the two sides of him battling slightly.
Her hands caught at his hair, pulling it a bit. "Michael, . . . ohhh." She panted once again. "Listen to me. . . . I'm not afraid of you. . . .Please," she was begging, "don't hold back. I need all of you." Her eyes were desperate.
A tormented groan escaped from him, as his tender side gave up on its fears and allowed his ruthless self free range.
He leaned closer to her, riding her further in, stretching her body even more. "You need me?" he asked ferally.
"Yes!" she begged. She closed her eyes, lost in the feel of him. "Ohhh, yes."
"Look at me," he ordered. She did. His hands moved to her shoulders. "You're mine . . . only mine." He burned deep within her. "Forget it ever again," his Section side warned her, gripping her shoulders, while he stroked brutally into her, "And I can't be responsible for my actions."
His rough rhythm trebled then. He was savaging her depths, as she pulled him further in, groaning roughly.
His hands caught her face; his eyes burned into hers. He was impacting against her core with brutalizing force, his head pummeling her. "Now," his voice was rough, "come, my love," he demanded, as he slammed into her once more and ground himself into her perilously-oversensitized, slick core. "Mine!" he demanded and repeated the action once more, his mouth closing over hers.
Her groaning scream was caught in the kiss. Her nails raked at his neck. She was weeping uncontrollably, biting at--suckling his lips.
The vibrations sang through her, convulsing her entire body, spasming her helplessly. He leaned back from the kiss, because she was weeping too hard to take part in it. Her eyes were closed.
"Mi . . . chael," she sobbed. She looked up at him, her eyes divesting everything she was to his care. She was overwhelmed by the trembling warmth which ran through her entire body, shaking her to her soul. She was still crying.
He looked at her and groaned. "`Kita." He took her legs off his shoulders and leaned over to hold her, picking her up--holding her to him like an infant.
He cradled her in his arms, as he sat them both up. He buried his face in her neck. "I love you." He moaned. "Oh God, I love you."
She hadn't much strength left to respond, but her love reached out to his soul, as her crying finally ceased. She held him, kissing his cheek. "Michael. I love you. . . . I love you."
His hands stroked down her back in long sweeps, as he held her--his love flowing through her, and she somehow managed to feel desire again. . . .How he could do this to her, could create this phoenix-like resurrection in her so easily, she would never know.
He leaned back, examining her, stroking her face, feeling her desire and love course through him. "My beautiful Nikita," he whispered. He groaned, kissing her deeply. He began stroking into her, as she sat on his lap.
"Oh Michael," she whispered, holding him in the kiss again. He had completely--magically reawakened her desire with just a few soft touches.
He continued searching her sweet mouth. His rhythm was steady and deep. He was swollen almost painfully in her, but he couldn't let go yet. . . .She just felt so good.
He pulled back for a second to look at her. Then, he gave her another sweet, deep kiss, while his hands went to her back and lifted her.
Her depths were so overwhelmingly sensitized that being carried on him like this came as close as she had even gotten to the oxymoron of "sweet pain." She clung to him, as he moved her to rest against the wall at the head of her bed, his knees still on her mattress, as he held her up.
He put his hand behind her head and then propped her there, his other arm around her. She had her legs wrapped around him but was mostly riding on his swollen length, which was buried deep within her.
They kissed, clinging to each other, as he rode her in very deep, short strokes. His head was at home deep in her core.
He pulled back from the kiss to look at her. "`Kita, I love you." He moved her a bit further down him, so that he rode her further up her body. His eyes pleaded with her to believe him. She panted, listening to his words.
He kissed her once more, as he stroked more deeply, a bit harder. She groaned loudly in it. He looked back at her. "There will never be anyone else in my heart."
Her eyes were closed, as the tension of their passion sang through her. She was making a constant, high-pitched whimpering noise.
He gave her a nipping kiss once more and then adjusted her so that he rode her as deeply as was possible, his strokes a smooth, deep, radiating warmth. He trailed his kisses down her neck until he placed his mouth over her heart. "I love you, my soul," he whispered. Then, his tongue seemed to stroke deep into her; he kissed the depths of her heart, as he gave three, increasingly deep, hard strokes into the silk of her absolute core.
"Mi-chael," she whimpered, as every wall she had melted. Her body trembled and bucked in throbbing, overwhelming release. There was no cell in her . . .no part of her being which didn't experience it.
"Ohhhhh," she was crying. Her body had been re-formed by him, recreated into a new whole which only understood pleasure; she was only silk, fire, love, and passion.
She was his; he was hers--this essential truth sang through her, as she clung to him, finally able to move enough now to kiss down his cheek. His overwhelming love ran through her, warming her--completing her even more fully than his sweet body had.
There was only one more thing she could ever possibly need. . . . She needed him to join her.
He was holding her, eyes closed, breathing labored. Her fulfillment washed through him, hovering him on the edge.
She leaned her head down and poised it over his heart. "I'm yours, my dear love," she whispered. Then, she stroked her tongue into it, placing a sweet, giving, ethereal kiss on his innermost heart.
"`Ki-ta," he whispered in a breath so soft she barely heard it.
She raised herself back up and held him to her, mouth at his ear. "Yes," she breathed into it. She kissed his cheek and held him close, fusing her soul to his.
Michael trembled. His hips gave one more rotating stroke into her, and then his release swept completely through him, erasing all that had come before.
He felt her in a hundred different ways. She was in his heart--was swimming through his soul; she was the comforting spot of sanity in his mind. As she inhaled a breath, he exhaled the same one, their bodies understanding no boundaries.
The sensual release of it was almost the least important. He came into her deeply, feeling it in every fiber of his body and hers. It melted every cell in him into her, allowing them a complete fusion. . . . Whole . . .he was finally, finally whole.
She understood and shared every second of it, agreeing completely. They held each other as one joined, complete entity--one which existed every second in a state of total ecstasy.
They understood, knew the truth of it. This was what every living creature wanted. . . . This was Heaven.
*************************************
Nikita opened her eyes from her dream finally, sorry she had had to wake.
She supposed it didn't matter, though. She smiled. Where she had been frustrated and tense when she went to bed, she was now utterly content.
She knew it probably wouldn't last long, of course. Michael would no doubt have her hating him again within a week. But, for now, it was an amazing, short space of bliss.
She looked down at her bed and realized that she must have kicked the covers off in her dream. Huh. Then she noticed something even stranger.. . . She was nude.
"I must have really been hot and bothered," she thought. She moved to pull back up her covers and saw her discarded nightgown and underwear on the floor, just where the dream Michael had discarded them. . . . Weird.
Oh well, sleep was like that sometimes, she supposed. She snuggled into her sheets and smiled, remembering her linked dreams. If they wanted to be like that more often in the future, she wouldn't object at all.
Maybe being twin souled wasn't so bad, after all, she thought. As far as she was concerned, in fact, her subconscious could work out her problems this way any time it wanted to.
She drifted back off to sleep again finally, smiling, imagining Michael's scent surrounding her. She had no need to complain. . . . Memories of Heaven were close enough.
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