| Subject: WTTS2 - 85e (suggestive) |
Author:
KT
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Date Posted: 22:42:16 01/11/02 Fri
In reply to:
KT
's message, "Window to the Soul 2 - More (splitting the thread *as requested by Sanlin*)" on 21:52:29 01/11/02 Fri
Window to the Soul 2 - Part 85e (suggestive)
By KT
Copyright February 8, 2001
Michael's answering machine remained in the drawer of the nightstand, along with the phone. It was easy to ignore, since they were camped out in the living room, far enough away to make it's jingling merely a distant annoyance. It was getting on toward noon. Michael stood at the window, musing over the innundation of snow that had set them free for the day. There was at last a bit of movement in the street below, and he knew that soon the city would dig itself out of its temporary wintry prison and life would return to normal.
Michael laughed at himself. On a day such as today, when he had been alone, he would have wished to be at work. Work and music had kept his solitary life tolerable. Enter Nikita. It seemed, in a way, as if they had both been sleep-walking, and that meeting each other had awakened them in ways they could not have predicted. He stared at the floor where she slept.
Nikita... it's been so long since I needed anyone.
What would he have done if she had decided in favor of Gray? He couldn't allow himself to think of that now. The important fact was that she had not done so.
Michael moved silently to his music shelves. He scanned the CDs, then found the one he was looking for. He slipped it into the player, then knelt on the floor next to Nikita. A faint glow lingered about her face. The memory of their most recent encounter suffused him with renewed desire. He reached out and traced the line of her brow with his thumb. His eyes were soft, his face serious.
Nikita stirred under his touch. She smiled, stretching and wiggling her toes. Then the music seeped through her slowly waking consciousness, and a playful look overtook her features. Her hands grasped Michael's and she pulled him down on top of her. They rolled, trapping themselves inside the comforter, a tangle of arms and legs. A look... a kiss... The music flowed across the room.
Love doesn't ask why
It speaks from the heart
And never explains
Don't you know that
Love doesn't think twice
It can come all at once
Or whisper from a distance
Don't ask me if this feeling's right or wrong
It doesn't have to make much sense
It just has to be this strong
'Cause when you're in my arms I understand
We don't have a voice
When our heart make the choices
There's no plan
It's not in our hands
Love doesn't ask why
It speaks from the heart
And never explains
Don't you know that
Love doesn't think twice
It can come all at once
Or whisper from a distance
Now I can feel what you're afraid to say
If you give your soul to me
Will you give too much away?
But we can't let this moment pass us by
Can't question this chance
Or expect any answers
We can try
But love doesn't ask you why
So let's take what we found
And wrap it around us.
Love doesn't ask why
It speaks from the heart
And never explains
Now I know that
Love doesn't think twice
It can come all at once
Or whisper from a distance
(Used without permission: "Love Doesn't Ask Why" by Celine Dion)
They lay facing each other, breathing softly, silent, connected. Nikita's expression changed as the words of the song and the look in Michael's eyes became one and the same. The power of his kisses sent her heartbeat reeling out of control. As the song ended, Michael wriggled free of their cocoon and turned the music off, returning quickly to the warmth of the comforter. He slid back in and lay facing her once again. His hands were very warm as they trailed up her arms...
Nikita became vaguely aware of the sounds coming from the street... a snowplow beeping... a car engine cranking... She drew Michael into an embrace and they tangled again, gently this time. Limbs entwined and lips tasted... eyes closed as scents tantalized... breath mingled and heat rose... The sounds of the outside world faded as the pulse of life rushed in their ears...
* * * * * * * *
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