Egypt

I was sitting with Egypt in his apartment, where he'd lit a fire to ward away the chill. It was raining outside, and we were both drenched, but our clothes were starting to dry. We sat on his mother's couch, listening to the crackle of the fire and talking quietly. He took pieces of my hair and twirled them around his fingers as we talked. It was such a simple thing and yet so distracting, still, to be so close to him.

Since I first saw him outside the Cocoa Café in June, he'd been a constant presence in my mind. There was so much he didn't know about me, but I had no doubt that he loved me. He knew that I was strange, but he had no idea how different I really was.

He knew I couldn't go out into the sun, but he thought it was simply a light sensitivity or some strange allergic reaction. He knew I had a gift and that I could look into his mind, maybe even his soul. He didn't know that I was Ishtan; a hybrid of ancient Atlanteans and humans. He didn't know that I was going to age so slowly that he could live his whole live and never see it. He didn't know I lived with people who had been alive since the days of ancient Babylon. He didn't know my best friend, at least until a few months ago was a fairy. He didn't know I craved blood, needed it, in fact, to live.

But he knew me. He knew I was studying to be a priestess in the temple of Aset. He knew I liked plastic beaded bracelets, listening to old music, and reading simple romance novels even when they had the same formula. He knew how to make me smile and laugh. He knew how to kiss me, so that I melted at his touch. And he always managed to say just the right thing no matter how bad I felt.

We sat now, not speaking, only looking at each other. Egypt had smooth golden skin that I had once described as being coffee heavy with milk. His eyes were the darkest brown so that they almost looked black, even in the light. He was long and leaned, his muscles just slightly toned. His hair fell in jet black curls to his shoulders. It was frizzing now, but it was still beautiful somehow.

"What are you thinking," he asked, brushing my jaw with his thumb.

"Just thinking," I said, grinning at him.

"No, come on. Tell me." I laughed.

"I was just wondering," I said, completely serious, "about what it's like to be able to go out in the sun during the day." He looked thoughtful for a second.

"Well," he said, after a pause, "It's nice. I really like it."

"Egypt," I said, "I'm serious." He laughed. That was Egypt; always amused at his own cleverness.

"Hmm..." He reached down to untie the sash at my waist. I was wearing a simple blue dress that I knew brought out my deep blue eyes. The sash was an accent, mostly, but I stopped him anyway.

"That's not an answer," I said. He gave me a wicked smile in the dark.

"Just wait," he said, "you'll see." I let him untie the sash and slip it from around my waist. He held it out and folded it carefully in half.

"Hold still," he said, and placed the cloth over my eyes, tying it easily behind my head, blindfolding me.

"This isn't too tight, is it?"

"No, what are you doing?"

"Answering your question," he leaned in and kissed me briefly on my lips, "now listen."

"I'm listening," I said, with a slight smile. I didn't know what he was up to, but he certainly had my attention.

"When you go outside during the day," he said, "the first thing you notice is the light."

"No kidding," I said, dryly.

"Hush," he said, "I'm trying to tell you. Now listen." He ran his fingers through my hair beneath the blindfold as he talked. My hair was damp, drying. My scalp tingled at his touch, raising the little hairs on the back of my neck.

"The first thing you notice is the light," he said again. This time I listened, quietly, playing along. "The light is everywhere. Not just from a specific place like a candle or light bulb or even a fireplace. It's everywhere, and it's never the same.

"Sometimes, it's a soft light, like early in the morning, when the sun first comes up. It's best when you're by a lake or tank where you can really see the colors shining off the surface of the water. There are always so many colors during a sunrise, purples and oranges, pinks and greens. It doesn't matter where you are or what's happing around you, the sunrise is always beautiful." He was still touching my hair. It was perfectly distracting, the steady rhythm of his hands.

"Then," he said, "the sun comes into the sky and you start to feel it. It dries the dew on the grass and warms the air. It changes everything, changes the colors of things, makes things shine and sparkle and warms your skin like nothing else." He ran his fingers lightly down my bare arms from my shoulders to my elbows with the fingertips of both hands.

"You feel it in your arms, from your skin to your bones. Sometimes, it feels like the light is going right through you, it's so strong." He brushed his fingertips across my jaw line. I swallowed, wondering of he would kiss me, and wanting it, yet hoping that he would keep talking.

"You feel it on your face," he said, "warm and bright. You close your eyes, because it's too bright to look right into the sun but you can still see the light, even with your eyes closed."

"Sometimes it's too hot, though," he said, "and you just have to cool off somehow. Then you go for a swim in a pool or the lake. It doesn't matter, because it's the water that's important. When you first get in, it's so cold, because you've been so hot for so long, but you get used to it." He brushed his fingers over my lips and they softened as if he had kissed me. I felt the slight tug as he wrapped a lock of my hair around his fingers. He let it go and I felt it fall back into place, brushing against my neck. I was dying for him to kiss me, but he kept talking.

"The best part, though," he said, "is when you finally get out of the water and start to dry off." He touched my arms again, brushing against the little hairs from my wrist to my elbows.

"It's the best part, because you're cold again, right at first, as the air hits your wet skin. You're standing in the heat, beneath the burning sun and you're cold anyway, but not for long. The heat from the sun causes the water on your skin to start to dry. You skin dries so fast that it feels like it's shrunk somehow. It feels tight, but not in a bad way. You can feel every nerve. You're arms and legs, your stomach, your chest..." He ran his fingers across my arms again, touching the back of my wrists and then grazing my knees just below the hem of my dress.

"Your face," he continued, cupping my face in his hand.

"Everything," he said, and he leaned in to kiss me. I reached out and held him so that he couldn't pull away.

"I'm not finished," he said, and I kissed him again.

"Tell me later," I said. He laughed and gave in, kissing me, hungrily.

I pulled the blindfold off so I could look at him. His eyes were blacker than usual. He kissed me again. I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling the black curls between my fingers; soft and smooth. He kissed along my jaw line and tipped my chin back to kiss my throat, lingering there for just a moment. It was a strange feeling, someone else's lips on my throat. He kissed the tender place at the base of my throat and worked his way back up to my jaw and then my lips again.

He worked the zipper on the back of my dress, pulling it down over my shoulders. He kissed my bare shoulders, and ran his fingers down my arms again. He caught my arms carefully and guided me until I was lying across the sofa with him sitting next to me, over me.

It was almost impossible to breathe at all.

I slipped out of my dress and he traced the line of my body from the straps of my bra to the bit of lace that bordered my panties. He kissed me, just above my navel then trailed kisses up to my throat again, slow sweet kisses that left me breathless.

"Come with me," he said and stood, taking my hand. He led me to his bedroom. We were on the bed kissing again before I even had a moment to think. It didn't matter. This was what I wanted. All the time in the world wouldn't have changed a thing.

He slipped his shirt off, tossing it over the side of the bed and we kissed, sitting up on our knees. I traced his skin with my fingers. I had never seen him without his shirt before. He looked at once vulnerable and powerful, beautiful. I studied him.

I had been wrong before, his skin was not coffee and milk. It was honey, smooth and dark and sweet. It glowed in the light of his bedside lamp, golden and beautiful, slick with sweat like something wild. We touched, searching, exploring, learning each other's bodies and responses. I kissed his throat, ran fingers down the muscles in his arms, the solidness of his chest. I kissed the little hollow above his jeans as he found the button with his fingers and removed them.

He pulled the blanket down, leaving just the sheets on the bed. He parted them, so that we could slide between them. He undid the clasp of my bra and removed it. He took the panties as well. I was naked in his bed. I wasn't shy with him, but I was glad of the sheets nonetheless. They made me feel a little covered which made me just that much more daring.

He was hard beneath the sheets and I moved to touch him but he guided me to lie down, his touch firm, as though it was his will alone that I be beneath him and not something I would have done on my own. I let him touch me again, wanting too much to see him to be able to close my eyes.

Egypt was beautiful, smooth golden skin and deep black hair. Soft careful kisses and wild dark eyes. He took his time but there was an urgency that I did not truly understand but felt as well.

He looked at me, seeing something in my expression.

"You've never done this before," he said, surprised.

I shook my head, "I never wanted to until now."

He grinned, "don't worry, I'll be gentle."

"I'm not scared," I said. He laughed and kissed me, catching my lower lip with his teeth and tugging gently on it. I laughed and kissed him hard. He kissed me again and entered me in one effortless, exquisite motion, eyes searching mine. I kissed him back, harder so that he could see how much I wanted him, how much this meant. He moved inside of me, slowly and then quickly with smooth deliberate movements that seemed to consume me from the inside out, so that I felt him even in the soles of my feet.

I tipped my head back into the soft mattress, a slight moan escaping as I closed my eyes. His lips found my neck, soft kisses against my skin and then the touch of teeth, hesitant at first then harder, spiking the pleasure with pain. Each time his teeth caught my throat, it was like the bite of alcohol in a cold sweet coconut rum, just enough pain to really feel it.

"Tess!" He laughed in surprise and I realized my nails had pressed deep enough into his skin that it had to hurt. I pulled back. He laughed again, a coarser, deeper sound that raised the skin on my arms and down my back in little shivery bumps. He bit me again, harder. I gasped. He looked at me, the blacks of his eyes filling them up.

"Egypt," I said. No name had ever meant so much.

His lips claimed mine, tongue slipping between them to explore the softness of the inside of my lips. He held me, hard enough, it seemed, to bruise me, and moved, filled with the sudden urgency of the moment.

I raised my hips to him and moaned against his mouth. When his tongue found mine, rough and sweet, it was more than I could stand and I cried out in pleasure and pain. The world exploded into touch and taste, sound and scent. Nothing existed but the steady sound of his breathing, the scent of him and the feeling of skin against skin. I existed only to feel him, the weight of him, lips, tongue, teeth, and the steady pressure of his hands where he held me. I felt clearly, the contrast of the smooth crisp sheets, soft against my legs and the feel of Egypt, hard inside me.

He jaw tensed and if his fingers hadn't bruised me before, they did now, but it didn't matter. I had gone past pain and only pleasure could find me as it did again and again.

He breathed my name, his breath hot against my throat. We fell, not away from the pleasure, but into it, like a bubbling hot tub, letting waves of pleasure pass over us as his lips found mine, again and again.

Slowly, we became aware, once more, of the world around us. A hundred times since I'd met him, I'd wished that time could stop. This time was no different. I could have stayed with him forever. I didn't need the Ishtan city, with it's fairies and vampires. I could live without the servants, the expensive clothes, the jewelry, the gold. I didn't need any of it. What I did need, though, was the blood. Again, I knew, I had to go back. It didn't matter what I wanted or how much I loved this boy. And I did love him, I realized. It didn't matter that it was against the rules to even befriend a human outside the city. I loved him and I would do what I had to, to be near him. Just let them try to tear us apart. I had followed them without thinking for all of my life. I had let them tell me how to live, what to wear and what to think. I had fought for nothing, but I would fight for this.

"Are you okay," Egypt touched my face, worried.

"I am," I said.

"Good," he said and his voice held a trace of roughness, "I love you, you know." He didn't give me a chance to answer. His lips found mine and I kissed him back, I couldn't say the words, but I could show him how I felt. I kissed him with everything I had. I love you, too.