Celastrus - Chapter 2: Kindling

By J. Rolande, aka Moonlight Sonata 2004

"Samus, please." He said as he unconsciously reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. Later, he'd find himself unable to explain why he'd done it, only that at that very moment, it felt right. Something drove his thoughts and actions, something that he had no control over, but something he had no wish to deny. He felt her muscles tense beneath the grip of his hand, but he did not move it. He could feel the tension within her and knew she was determining whether this was a case for fight, or for flight... or maybe for something else entirely. Whatever it was, it had stopped her in her tracks, brought her back to him. He longed to reach out with his other hand and touch her hair, or maybe take hold of her other shoulder and pull her to him but he knew if he did this there was a danger that he would not want to let her go. He'd always felt intensely protective of her; he was almost old enough to be her father, but now, as she made ready to leave in a cloud of anger, he felt the need to hold her close until her rage had passed and she had calmed herself some.

"Samus," he repeated, this time quietly, gently. He felt her shoulder droop a bit beneath the weight of his hand and wondered if she felt defeated. "Just stop a moment. You're angry. You know if you leave now you may do something you don’t really want to do. That temper of yours..." He swallowed a bit nervously, aware of how his mind and very soul were willing her to stay.

Samus felt her heart skip a beat, and then began to feel giddy as her pulse rate accelerated. His hand was warm on her shoulder, his warmth seeping through the material of her shirt and into her skin. It was a warmth she'd never felt in all her life, and the feelings it awoke frightened her. Yet she wanted more of it. She wanted the warmth to flow through all of her body. More than anything, she wanted to fill herself with that warmth. The desire was strong, an internal fire that threatened to consume her from the inside out if it was not satiated. Unlike a fire, this did not warm her, only made her colder and colder the longer she denied it. Almost trembling from this rush, she turned to face him.

"My temper is just fine," she said in a shaky voice. "There’s no need for you to worry about it..."

But he was right, much as she hated to admit it. If she left now she probably would do something she'd regret later. Then again, if she stayed, she might do something else she'd regret. Immediately, she pushed the thought away. The man standing behind her, touching her... he understood her in a way none other ever had, nor probably anyone else ever would. It would be impossible to regret anything that happened between them. Even she, Samus Aran, icy and frigid bitch to some, could not deny that she was feeling something, something powerful. If anything began to happen in her, there could be no stopping it.

He guided her closer to him and she allowed it, though she didn't know why. He cupped his other hand at her lower back, securing her position in front of him. He searched her, taking in her features as though he had never seen her before. She stood there, so very aware of his hands upon her; there was warmth in her shoulder, and now in her lower back. The sensation slowly coursed through her waist and hips and, to her horror, teased at her most carnal of flesh. No! She screamed in her mind. This could not feel right, could not be right. And yet, even as her cold rationale demanded that she pull back now, she found she could not make herself do so. Rationale be damned: this sensual need, older than rationale and intellect, older conscious thought, was all that mattered at this moment, frozen in time.

She wondered what she must look like to him at that moment, standing there awkwardly, trying to deny something that she knew would eventually win out anyway. She wondered how he would perceive her. As a slut? An ambitious soldier looking to sleep through the ranks? Just an easy lay? This last option frightened her the most, because she wanted to be more to him than that. In him she found understanding; he accepted her on her terms, something no one else had ever done. To be little more than a quick romp in the sack, an easy conquest, would be unbearable. Almost against her will she had images of the gossip that would ensue... "Did you hear about Colonel Malkovitch? He actually managed to fuck Aran!" one nameless Private jeered. "I guess she really is a chick," another said, while still another responded, "Looks like even Ice Queen Aran gots needs." She could hear the mocking following her wherever she went, and see the image of herself that she'd tried to create destroyed irreparably. She tried to clear her head of the images and focus on Adam again. She found her voice. "Colonel", she began shakily.

"Adam," he whispered, pulling her closer. "Right now, I’m just Adam."

Her breathing intensified and her heart began to race as the emotion and sheer desire swelled within her. "Adam... What do you see when you look at me?" His hand moved from her shoulder, and his fingertips, slightly, though not unpleasingly, rough, caressed her cheek. She felt her breath catch in her throat. It was as though her heart was pumping electricity through her veins, rather than mere blood. His touch, so innocuous physically, wreaked havoc on her thoughts and emotions.

Adam looked at the woman before him. So many times he had gazed at her, carefully compartmentalizing his feelings. But why? What had he seen then? What did he see now? Every physical feature was familiar to him, indelibly etched on his brain. In his dreams he had seen the sharp angles of her cheekbones, the prominent nose, the chin tipped in intense, yet quiet defiance. Most clear, however, were her eyes, those bottle-glass green eyes that shifted from hard and icy, to liquid and vulnerable at a moment's notice. He'd often held to the old-fashioned notion that the eyes were the windows to the soul, which was perhaps one of the reasons he'd so often fantasized about her eyes. He simply longed to explore her soul.

He unconsciously pulled her even closer; now their bodies were dangerously near one another, mere centimeters separating them. He could feel her tense up, but it was more of a gesture of anticipation. She was a spring, coiling tightly, prepared to release.

"Adam?" her shaking whisper startled him a bit. He clasped his hands against the hollow of her lower back, pressing her to him, and feeling a rush of relief when she did not resist. "When I look at you, I see... so much," he said, taking in the scent of her, now that she was close enough for him to do so. "I see a fighter, hardened by battle."

"Is... is that all?" she asked, dejection evident in her voice.

"No," he said, beginning to feel intoxicated by her very presence. Everything about her, all that was Samus, filled him. "I see a lonely, misunderstood woman... I see a lost child who doesn't know what she wants, but feels the need to pretend she knows." He tightened his hold on her even more. "Do you know what you want?" he asked, not sure how he felt about hearing the answer.

Samus felt his hold tightening about her. Without thought or hesitation she closed the infinitesimal distance between them. The moment her body touched his the electricity in her exploded in a burst of power. She wanted this. She wanted to melt into him and become a part of him and have the wholeness she’d lacked for so long. She felt him, his essence, his soul, invade hers. She had no control over it, but she no longer cared about control. She just wanted to lose herself with him, in him. No longer did she feel repulsion at the urgency growing between her legs, only desperation to quench it.

Ah, the question, he had asked her a question. "I want this," she whispered, "More than anything I want this." She tilted her chin up, drinking in everything that was Adam. She reached her arms up and encircled his neck, pulling him closer to her, wanting to incorporate him into her. The only right would be for them to join in a melding of body and soul. To be two bodies was now so wrong it was blasphemous.

He looked down at her, the intensity in her eyes almost terrifying to him. She wanted this. Oh God how he'd waited to hear her say that. He wanted it too, more than he'd give himself credit for. No longer would he have to rely on dreams and fantasies; the real thing stood here, pressing her body against, no, into, his, her eyes begging him to take her.

He brushed his lips over her forehead, almost hesitantly, ironic considering the circumstances. He'd felt the erection growing from the moment she stepped into the room - not out of perversion or animal lust, but because she had that intense power over him that she did not realize. Power to make his emotions manifest. She was now trembling beneath his hands and lips and against his body - any minute the spring would let loose. He tilted her head and leaned in, tentatively brushing his lips against hers, and suppressing a grin as she gasped, tightening her arms around his neck, forcing him to remain this close to her.

Samus had to suppress a slight moan as his lips brushed against hers. He was teasing her now, and she would not suffer any teasing. Her body was suffering enough as it was. She could feel his hardening manhood against her thigh, intensifying her own desperation. She didn't just want this. No, she needed it. His lips passed over hers again, and this time she responded with a ferocity she did not know she possessed. She pressed her mouth against his, tasting him, and feeling pleased when he responded to her. He hadn't shaved, and his stubble scratched at her skin, but she drank it in, allowing herself to be fully aware of every mental, emotional, and physical sensation. She felt something welling up within her, a feeling she'd never truly felt; a feeling so intense and beautiful she felt tears start to touch her eyes.

Adam pulled away for one moment, still very conscious of the taste of Samus on his lips and in his mouth. He was intoxicated, drunk on her, yet something puzzled him. "You're crying," he said in a matter-of-fact voice. He had never seen her cry before... in fact, if asked, he would honestly have had the opinion of the other men in his battalion: that Samus Aran was incapable of tears. She had shown herself so emotionless in so many situations, that it was now alien to him to see teardrops collecting in her thick eyelashes and rolling down her cheeks. It disconcerted him. It scared him. He gently caressed her face. "Am I.... should we stop?"

"No. God, no," she said hoarsely.

What was about to happen both thrilled and frightened him. The consequences of this action were severe if they were found out, and even if they weren't there were repercussions that could follow them forever. His need was so strong, and it felt like hers was as well. Even as tear drops rolled down her cheeks, she was urgently pressing her body to his. "Samus. Do you want this," he stated, as anticipation, fear, and pure desire swelled into an emotional cacophony within his brain.

"Adam. I... I don't just want this," she said intensely, her breathing now coming in quick gasps as she struggled, rather futilely, to control her body. "I need this. More than anything. I need... you. Us." She paused a for a moment, repositioning herself against him. "I need to be whole. I'm so tired of being incomplete," she said fiercely.

Her eyes were smoldering, burning into him as she held onto him. Her body was tense in his arms. He knew he needed it too, knew if he did not take her now he may never get the chance again. His urgency was growing; his heart was pounding, his desire sweeping away any vestiges of rationale he may have had left. He needed her. She needed him. They both wanted each other, wanted this, repercussions or none; and the consequences could burn in hell. Consequences no longer mattered. The only thing that mattered was the mutual desire that engulfed them.

Hands trembling with anticipation, he took hold of the hem of her shirt, and slowly began to remove it.