Winter Storm

“I’m having a contrary response to this you know.”

“What response is that?” Wrapped warmly in his embrace I really did not want to rouse enough to think because thinking would stop the feeling and the feeling was so damn delicious.

“Damned either way, I may as well have the fun if I am going to pay for it whether I have it or not.”

And he kissed me. It wasn’t just his lips meeting mine and opening on them. It was his lips, his hands, his chest, his hips, his thighs all pressed to me at once and his spirit reaching in to me and sensory overload. It was souls seeking response and fully clothed losing track of where his body ended and mine began.

I had been peacefully floating along, feeling balanced and open, connected in a way that had been years gone. And perhaps a bit smug too, that I had done it with no help from the carnal shortcuts so tempting for so many reasons.

The energy of his intent slammed into me, filled me, spilled out of each of us, met and melded and surged again like a tide out of one and into the other and back again, mirrored and shared and tossed.

His mouth drank me in, his hands held me firm and sure, gentle in my hair, stroked my back, pulled me ever closer to the whirlwind.

Silly of me really, to think I could overcome the training of years with one rational discussion and a sisterly hug. Somewhere I could hear the laughter of those beyond us, above us, as if to say to me “Silly child, beloved daughter. Spirit and Flesh are one, Soul and Body are the same. Healing one without the other is impossible.”

And it is when we cannot tell the difference between the two that we heal every level. It is when we finally let down the barriers to our Self that we can let down the walls to each other.

His hands in my hair, stroked my neck, my cheek, angled my head to kiss more firmly, deeply, strong fingers on my neck, back, shoulders. I breathed in the clean scent of his hair, skin, buried my face in his chest, then again felt his lips and rose to meet them, kissed him back, tasted his mouth, listened to his voice in my ear, his breath a ragged echo of mine.

Finally the eye of the storm and calmed we lay, arms around one another, breath softer, stroked lightly each other’s hair, still clothed back and arms.

I leaned up to look into his eyes, those beautiful, changeable, animal eyes. And there inside was Other, a growling life rediscovered, and Something rose in me to meet it.

This time his hands and lips and teeth and scent surrounded me, and I felt transformed and beyond myself. Was that what he saw in me, what he looked for, feared, desired? Who was that creature we became, and when will it again come with no warning?

Layers of clothing between us did nothing to stop the wave of heat from his skin to mine, nothing to stop the throb of heartbeats matched, the thrill of blood pounding its primal rhythm, breathing ragged again, gasping and singing a savage sort of joy into each other’s ears, did not a thing to stop the thermonuclear release of energy from the solid core of our center and so much toxic energy sent away never to be reclaimed.

Now I wonder after the fact what each of us thinks of the result.

Are we brave enough to face our own healing, our own savagery, our own balance within and between?

I want to wallow in the peaceful aftermath of that storm, to soak in the gentle ebb and flow of our spirits joined. I know I would offer any healing I am capable of creating and eliciting from us to feel that connection. And all the while my Rational self demands I run screaming toward the opposite direction, my Spirit seeks the storm.