Erotica By Alessia Brio: Timeless

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Surreal allusion surrounds Lance and Gwen in their first, yet legendary, encounter.

First light peeks through the drapery sheers, appearing as a raspberry blush through closed eyelids. Their pale bodies lie atop the soft taupe bedspread, naked limbs entwined in a deeply sated slumber. Lance smiles softly without opening his eyes, remembering that the woman he loves is—against all odds—finally by his side. His beard is still redolent with her essence, and his hips ache with the memory of passion lasting far into the night. Into the pre-dawn hours, if truth be told.

Truth. If defined as the absence of pretense, he muses, then their love is most assuredly true. Truer, in fact, than any bound by the arbitrary constructs of sin and salvation. Call it destiny, if needs be, or call it lust. Both may be true, but neither matters when the silky skin of her thighs rests atop his groin. Their rhythmic union declares itself beyond the reach of definition, of mere words—timeless in its systolic perfection.

Gwen stirs—whimpers as if an unpleasant dream disturbs her sleep—and he kisses her forehead to smooth her brow. The ding of an elevator carries through the heavy door, accompanied by muffled voices from another realm, another reality. The wheels of a pulled suitcase echo as retreating hoof beats against the ridges of the tiled corridor floor. Distant sounds of morning traffic filter through the thick panes of glass high above the city streets. Reminders of a world to which they must soon return. The dual spells of duty and honor, cast upon their souls, would ne’er allow them to remain in this sheltered escape. Their power trumped all else.

He is painfully aware that the universe may have but one such night set aside for them, and it is not without grave risk to their lives, their loves, and their cause. Yet her insistent kisses vanquish all doubt. Her hot tongue upon his cock eclipses even the threat of death, and her velvet touch rends his very soul. There is no price too steep for this moment—no grail too dear. In their stolen embrace, only now exists.

Opening his eyes, Lance drinks the sight of her face. Fair lashes rest against porcelain cheeks still flushed with sex. Her breath teases his mouth, and he moves closer to inhale the air once inside her—as if in so doing, part of her will forever be in his blood. She smiles in waking as his tongue then traces the outline of her lips, and her eyes—bluest fields deep—slowly open to the morning.

The purity of her gaze falls upon him, and he gasps in wonder. She can speak volumes with nary a word, calm raging storms of doubt, and keep the poison chalice of fear from his lips. There is both peace and passion in those eyes, and when they hold him, he wants only to swim in their depths for all of tomorrow. That such unparalleled comfort coexists with burning desire is ever a source of awe, and Lance again thanks the powers that be for allowing him even one night of such bliss. To dare hope for a lifetime of it seems greedy in the extreme, yet such hope is his very oxygen.

Their kiss deepens, and their bodies move together—closing the narrow space. He feels the cold steel just as Gwen gasps. Neither recoils. They know—without needing to look—what lies between them. It has been there all along, in spirit if not in fact, and their eyes lock in silent understanding. Time’s up. The sword’s ornate handle protrudes from the mattress, its legendary blade embedded as they slept.

Their love of another brought them to this place and time, and while both feel the unavoidable shame of shared betrayal, but neither regrets their union. To deny such passion would be to insult life and, in so doing, forfeit the divine magic in one’s soul. Better to at least attempt flight—soaring ever so briefly with the warmth of the sun on love’s wings—than remain ever tethered to the earth. Better to have at least glimpsed the heart’s true Camelot than never know such beauty. They are now one, and no matter where life’s currents take them, it will always be thus.

And so, as one, their fingers grip the shaft to extract the blade, and they read the words engraved upon it. Timeless words for a timeless quest. On one side: Take Me Up. On the other: Cast Me Away.

© Alessia Brio
Read our interview with Alessia about the Coming Together anthologies.


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