Date: Thu, 27 Aug 1998 22:53:22 GMT From: dana_pincus@hotmail.com Subject: New - Simple by Dana Pincus Simple 1/1 By Dana Pincus dana_pincus@hotmail.com Rating - G Classification - MSR V Spoilers - None Summary - Simple thoughts in a complicated life. Archiving - If anyone wants to archive any of my stuff, I would be honored, a mail would be appreciated to say where! Disclaimer - Sadly, still not mine. Dear CC and the boys at 1013 and Fox still own them. Ah, well I can dream... This is my second post. I would like to thank you for the encouraging feedback I had from my first post. I did try to get back to everybody, but due to a computer glitch, I am sure I missed some. Please forgive me if I did not reply, I can assure you all the feedback was gratefully received! I will just thank Ms Rasch, who thrilled me skinny by putting my first story on her site! This is different from my first post - I am still trying to find my feet and a style I am comfortable with.... So, please bear with me while I try things out:-) I also know it is not the most original idea but I'm also working on that! Simple 1/1 Her life was not simple. It was too complicated. Too hard. Just too much. Too much had happened in her life, was still happening in her life for it to be classified as simple. But now here she was contemplating adding yet another twist to her existence, yet another complication. She looked up at the complication. The face. The only face she wanted to see, to be this close, invading her space. That face. His face. The high forehead,lines etched by guilt and sadness. The dark hair that flopped across it. Almost black, almost brown; a rich deep mahogany in the sun, always unruly, always fighting, always rebelling against itself in some small defiant way. The eyes, the deep set eyes as changeable as the sea and sky combined and showing the colours of both, with those deceptively long eyelashes, the length only fully revealed when they closed slowly, the darkness of them flicking against the cheekbones. The strong bones of the face, the nose that could and should look wrong, so very wrong, but fitted perfectly, so very perfectly within it's home. The wide jaw with muscles that would tense and flinch in anger and bitterness, biting back the violent, desperate words that sometimes fought to leave the mouth. That mouth. The mouth that constantly seemed to be in movement, sometimes silent, sometimes speaking, sometimes screaming at whoever or whatever would listen to it - often manipulating a salty seed, a gnawed pencil, a chewed drinks straw. Sometimes cruel and thin even in it's fullness, sometimes wide and open in a grin. Sometimes whispering and gentle, swollen and moist, as it was now. But always, always mobile. The mouth dips towards her, glistening and shining with him. And her eyes follow it, follow it's path as it gets closer and closer. Soon it is out of her line of vision, it is so close. She looks to the eyes, now cast the color of a stormy day at sea, but with the warmth of a day in high summer; all swirling greens greys and gold's. A violent, stunning summer storm over the ocean. And still the mouth is pulling close, the lips closer, closer. Breath filters from between them, the lips, stealing between her own and into her body. She returns the breath to him, so badly wanting to be that breath as it trails between them, back and forth. Yet still the mouth hovers above hers. Not touching, but driving her slowly insane with the nearness of it. Still nether of them pushes to consummate the kiss, to press closer to each other. The teasing feels too good, too good. Their breathing becomes ragged, their pulses beat and she closes her eyes. She closes her eyes to his because it is becoming too much, she can see too much of him and she is certain that he will is able to see too much of her. And she doesn't want that, not yet, not until she can be sure that this it what should happen. That this is not going to be a morning regret for him, an agonized embarrassment for her, an action borne on a purely physical need. The lips brush hers, at the very corners. First one side. Then the other. Hardly touching and softly unsure. She then feels him pull back and she waits. She waits. There is stillness. She opens her eyes, fearing to see the word mistake in his eyes, to hear it falling from his mouth. That mouth. But she sees him looking at her, honest and unsettled. She silently questions him. He lowers his eyes, a slight movement of his head, his mouth mutely mobile. No words. And she knows. She understands what he is silently saying. She says it for him. 'Scared' His lids slowly close, the lashes there as she knew they would be. A sigh is expelled through the nose. The chin dips towards his chest, then lifts as the eyes slowly open, the gaze soft, tender. The lips part and enunciate the word deliberately. 'Petrified' She closes her eyes with a small smile, a quiet laugh. She opens them to find him smiling back at her. Her hand reaches up to trace the face, the forehead, the eyes, the cheekbones, the jaw, the mouth. He turns his face towards her palm, affectionately rubbing against it. She shakes her head at him. 'Don't be' The mouth kisses her palm and moves, closing towards hers again. And then she knows. No more fear. No more uncertainty. No regrets. Uncomplicated. Just him. Just her. Sometimes life can be that simple. End A little piece of nothing, but was it OK? Let me know at dana_pincus@hotmail.com