Stains of Blue

Hey there :)
Thanks for the replies, I will post this story relatively quickly because it is already finished - except for the epilogue but I hope I can type that up today or tomorrow! It will have 8 Chapters in total.
This chapter needs a special Disclaimer cause I use a poem by Pablo Neruda here, whose brilliance is absolutely not my own - most unfortunately.


***

I can't recall how long we lay on the bed, beneath and above us white silk sheets, sweat, sweet silence. His hands idly roamed over my form, and once in a while his lips met my forehead, chin, eyelids or lips, but I barely felt the distinct moves he made, they were too slow, too hazy, but I knew I was save. I felt divine in his arms, as if nothing could reach me here, that he would protect me from everything that scared me, and at the same time made my own heart strong enough to face them alone one day. One day - tomorrow. I knew that, but I had banned it away, into the last chamber of the darkest part of my mind, locked with seven seals and seven guards who hid it, not to let the knowledge escape to spoil this moment I will remember all my life.

He chuckled lowly when my stomach suddenly grumbled comically, and took my chin between his index finger and thumb, his eyes glinted with amusement and sweet tenderness.
"You must be hungry..." he stated softly, but when I blushed and tried to brush it off, he pulled me closer and silenced me with a kiss onto my pouting lips.
"Hey!" I protested when he finished his attack of my lips and tongue smirking, but he didn't notice or at least didn't pay attention and got up, pulling me with him.
"Come on we\get get ourselves something to restore our energies!" he slapped my naked butt gently, bit my shoulder and then got off the bed to slip into his boxers. I couldn't make myself move, just looked up him, how his muscles flexed when he moves, how the tiny hair on his skin curled and his skin perfectly danced the dance of his muscles and sinew.

He was right of course, I was hungry, very hungry even, since I hadn't eaten anything since I had checked into the plane the previous day, nervousness had taken over me and clenched my stomach into a useless knot of innards. He frowned at me to stand up and flushing again I looked around for my clothes, of which I miraculously only could find my skirt.
Having followed my eyes he smirked once more, "I like you best the way you are, baby!" he grinned and took my hand to pull me up. I stood in front of him only moments later, close, feeling the hair on his chest tickly my breast and the insides of his feet touched the outsides of mine. His lips brushed mine ever so softly, his nose caressed mine and I felt his eye lashes tickle my cheek and when I opened my eyes again he was about to help me into a shirt of his and closed only one button across my chest.
I smiled up to him, inhaling his scent, which the shirt contained. It hung over my buttocks but did not really cover my most private parts, and I got the impression that this had been his intention. He took my hand then and led me downstairs, I realized that all the surroundings were amazingly uncommon to me, considering the way I knew his bedroom and I remembered the delirious state my consciousness had reached by the time he brought me there.

"I have prepared something, you know?" he asked suddenly while my eyes still lingered on his walls, his art and unusual furniture, but then my head spun around.
"You... you shouldn't have bothered..." I mumbled but again that only earned me one of his silencing, breathtaking kisses.
"Of course I did," he answered finally "I invited you as my guest - and I expected you to stay for dinner, and now come on..."

In the kitchen he lifted me up to sit on the table, then put the prepared vegetable gratin into the stove and started to wash the salad. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help, but he wouldn't let me, just threw me loving glances once in a while or came over to kiss me, and I had to admit I loved watching him, how he paid attention to each onion and carrot. I never realized how cooking could take my breath away, when he did it.

"I think I could watch you forever..." I breathed finally, for some reason feeling the urge to share something of my inner turmoil, but regretting it immediately even before I saw the smirk that wreathed his wonderful lips. "I... I... I... meant, I just meant..." my mumbling annoyed me horribly and I wished for nothing but one of his kisses - it even almost seemed as if my wish would be granted, he approached me, smiling tenderly, took my chin between his index finder and thumb again and looked deep into my eyes.
"I know..." he breathed, grumbling in his vocal chords, "I know exactly what you mean..." his fingers caressed my cheeks lovingly and all I did was looking into his eyes.

The stove suddenly rang to announce that the gratin was done, and broke this moment of intimacy, I cursed it inwardly when he smiled apologetic and started to set the table, but then seemed to change his mind and returned to me with a plate of salad and gratin. His fingers trailed my chin while his other hand approached my lips with a fork of salad. I smiled and opened my lips on his command, a tiny shrug of his brows. And so he fed me, caressing my face and looking into my eyes lovingly, sharing, a bit for him a bit for me, a kiss, a sip of wine, in my mouth, in his - tasting, playing, experimenting.

"Tastes good..." I whispered finally and he grinned.
"The food - or I?" We chuckled both and I leaned forward into another kiss.
"You..."


.:*:.


I knew I was torturing myself, I knew that this dream, this surreal reality was what I had always longed for, waited for, not content with anything beneath this and never taking the steps I took with him. But I always knew it was a fairytale my dreams consisted of, something never to come true for anyone, at least not for more then a few days idly seen through the love-stained glasses of immaturity. What was flippantly called love across the world had always been grimed by selfish intentions, compromises I wasn't willing to take and individuality down the drain - hopes and expectations unfulfilled.
I had generally been confident about being alone, unlike many others I knew, who bound themselves to unworthy partners for nothing but the vain sake of there fear of solitude. It disgusted me, always had had and so I had stayed alone, fearing to have lost the ability to fall in love at all, or to feel these butterflies that make you feel like you are one in the world - a woman deeply loved.
Fiction, fantasy and dreams were my only love-life and though I kept longing for more I was considerably content when I thought of the consequences of a relationship the way I knew it, the way I saw it wherever my eyes lingered.
That was maybe the main reason why I had kept my own bet and had been willing to leave my yearning for creative expression behind. It had no value to the world contrary to what I had always dreamed of. The dream for myself to be bestowed with the illusion of a fairytale, that I couldn't hope for coming true.
I had resigned myself to becoming like the people that I have always despised, by marrying someone that I maybe did not love but would feel considerably comfortable with, follow a good career, buy a neat house, with garden fence, a sports-car, a dog, a horse, two children - breakfast at seven, dinner at eight, bleaching on Wednesday, ironing on Monday and Thursday afternoons - living the perfect cliché.
I can't believe now how much I allowed me to delude myself, how much I was ready to deny my true self for the sake of conformity and what I made myself believe to matter.
In that way, I knew it, he saved me back then - Saved me from a life not worth living, leaving to pursue the other path that lay there right open for me.

I shall be telling this with a sigh, somewhere ages and ages hence; Two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference. [from: "The road not taken" - Jack Frost]

It would be painful, it would break me from time to time... maybe even forever. Irreversible stains would be left on my heart and always apparent as a dim flame in the back of my mind. But stains of him I would always be grateful to receive - from him I would take everything, everything he'd bother to throw at me, love, kisses, pain even and torture, life-long linger where I never thought I would have been able to go to.

We had finally ended up in his living-room, on the beige suede couch in front of the small fireplace. Exotic native south-American artwork and furniture adorned the delicate chamber, hung on the walls, stood on the ground, covered with carpets and flokatis surrounded us and provided a magical atmosphere, which fitted the dreamlike, hazy quality of our time together.
A big mug a maté-tea stood on the small table in front of us, my head lay on his lap again and while we lingered each in his own reverie his fingers idly played with the strands of my hair.
My eyes were closed and only the regular secure sounds of his breath and the softly lingling fire filled my ears, his scent and the one of burning wood my nostrils and smug, content peace my consciousness. It felt incredibly remarkable how I could I feel so perfectly at ease with someone I knew as short as him, but in that moment it was nothing but natural, seemed to be part of this special magic that seemed to have entranced us both, part of this temporary fairytale, this finite fading bliss on the run, that we clung to as if we were drowning and it was air, as if it was a lifeline that we just had to grasp with all our strength to prevent us to fall into the rough sea, to be parted forever.

"Viggo?" I breathed softly and opened my eyes slowly. He smiled down at me tenderly, once again I was enchanted by the warm glow and the traces of tender fire in his infinite eyes.
"Yes, love?"

And I never saw blue like that before, across the sky, around the world, you've given me all you have and more -
And no one else has ever shown me how, to see the world the way I see it now -
oh I , I never saw blue like that... before. [from: Never saw blue like that - Shawn Colvin]

I swallowed, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotion he cause in me. I just loved him, however ridiculous that sounded, there was no other word strong enough to ess ess what I felt in that moment. I smiled up to him coyly and then breathed, "Would you read Poetry for me?" I bit my lip and smiled at him from lowered lashes, "Please" I whispered when he frowned in tender amusement, "I want to hear your voice..." my breath vanished and I broke my voice when I saw the expression in his eyes, he nodded then and reached under the small table to draw forth a small book.
"Close your eyes!" he insisted whispering and I was only to happy to obey.

Only his voice seemed to fill the room, reach in every corner, velvet and silk, and suddenly I knew what happiness meant.


If you forget me

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
i all all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Pablo Neruda