| Subject: WTTS2 - 74 (a little suggestive scene) |
Author:
KT
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Date Posted: 21:32:10 01/11/02 Fri
In reply to:
KT
's message, "Window to the Soul 2" on 20:43:26 01/11/02 Fri
Window to the Soul 2 - Part 74
By KT
Copyright August 18, 2000
Nikita awoke in her haze of pain. Her eyes opened slowly to behold Michael's face directly across from hers, as he slept lightly. Her body had gone from hot to cold, the only covers being a male arm and leg, and she was shivering. Her actions woke him, and he stirred, his arm tightening around her, her own arms crossed against her chest, and he gathered her close. She snuggled into his embrace as his eyes met hers, searching for a sign of distress.
"We slept."
"Yes, a little."
"There's still pain." The catch in her voice made his gut clench.
"It'll go away."
"When?"
Michael was silent. If I knew, I would tell you... He reached down and pulled the covers over them, stretching the length of his body against hers to warm her.
Nikita glanced at her alarm clock. Only an hour had passed since Michael's arrival. She winced inwardly as she remembered darkness closing in around her, as the pain had forced her out of her body, his treatment pushing her beyond her limits. She sighed against his shoulder.
As he studied her face, Michael knew Nikita was holding back her disappointment. He placed a light kiss on her forehead, rolled out of the bed, tucking the covers around her, and went to the living room. He shuffled through her CDs and found what he was looking for. Music floated out as he softly padded back down the hallway. He stopped outside her door and waited for her reaction.
Nikita's ears were met by the wonderful gypsy-like sounds of George Enescu's "Orchestral Suite No. 1 in C minor", and her mind wandered back to her music history classes. She recalled that this particular work had been composed in Paris around the turn of the century, and was dedicated to Camille Saint-Saëns. The first movement was a stirring unison piece for strings only, with an expanded low string section. A hint of a smile slowly spread over her face. Only a cellist...
Michael watched through the door until he saw Nikita's expression change, then entered quietly and slipped back under the covers, clasping her to him. The smoothness of her skin was like the seamless sound of the strings, and his hands, where before had produced only pain and heat, now played coolly and gently over her body, grazing her breasts, her arms, her shoulders, her neck, until they came to rest on either side of her face. He was rewarded by the full-on force of her eyes, showing her approval of his musical choice. Her lucid gaze drew him closer, inviting him...
The music swept over them. Nikita let herself sink deep into Michael's kiss, giving up completely as he drew her out of her abyss and into the light. They kissed again, eyes connecting, then closing as their passion flared, hearts beating hard. Then, being who they were, they lay quietly facing each other, becoming totally absorbed in the beauty of the music, listening as it fed their need.
Michael watched Nikita drift, then sleep, the pain in her face dying away with the last of the notes. If the power of love could cure, you would already be walking, no, running, ma chère...
He touched his lips softly to the tip of her nose, then left the bed, and recovering his sweater from the bath, strode bare-legged into the living room and unpacked his cello. The warm spring breeze flowed in through the front door. Michael sat on Nikita's piano bench, tuned, then settled the instrument into his shoulder.
Still entranced by the splendidness of Enescu's Suite, he felt as if split in two, himself watching himself as he played Adam's lullaby until it transported him to another reality, past and present merging into one. The hurt in his heart for Nikita gradually lessened as his focus shifted to his love of the tune.
The sound of his plaintive playing slowly penetrated Nikita's drowsy psyche, and she woke to the haunting strains of the lullaby. She listened for a few minutes, then called out.
"Michael, what is that?"
He finished the phrase. "Just something I used to play for Adam."
"It's very soothing."
A reflective moment passed before Michael replied. "Sometimes, when he couldn't sleep, I'd play it for him."
Nikita could hear the emotion in his voice. "Don't stop. It's so beautiful."
The notes resumed, more of the piece revealed. Nikita lay mesmerized as the sadness of Michael's heart lay open to her ears. Her body began to relax again, and she hovered in the world of waking dreams, imagining Adam and Michael together at the end of the day. As the dream faded, she slept yet again.
Michael finished his playing, and laid his instrument aside. He moved stealthily down the hallway and into her room. As he sat next to the bed, his eyes fell upon the little keepsake box on her nightstand, the lustre of the black Japanese lacquer setting off the gold chrysanthemum design. He lifted the hinged top to find his handwritten notes stacked inside. She had kept them!
It made him want to cover her sweet body and make love to her until... Soon, my love...
Michael dozed off in the chair, grateful for this lazy afternoon. Between worrying about Nikita and his non-stop schedule at the Hall, he had been pouring his energy out, but not replenishing it. His head drooped as his body gave in to the unaccustomed luxury of napping.
* * * * * * * *
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