nubbin that would release her. She was not mindlessly passionate, but stayed with him, knowing who he was, who she was, and who the two of them were together in this joining. He worked his fingers gently into her opening, sliding on her body's dew as both of them gasped for air. He opened his mind to hers, filling her with the ways he wanted her until suddenly he felt a sparkle from her to him. She shivered and shook with delight. The air around them sparkled as he raised over her and opened her passage with one quick thrust. The sparkle did not dim. She stayed with him as he slowly began to slide in and out, crunching the hay beneath them. The crisp air around them dried the sweat from their coupling as they continued to thrust and retreat with yearnings and groanings. He raised her legs to his waist and she dug her heels in his buttocks.
Just as he was about to come, he opened his eyes and the face he saw was old and young at the same time. Gwynn had stayed with him through the remembrance and their bodies had followed the same path. A shaking and a deep sigh in her pulled him to the present and he closed his eyes and pumped into her with all his longing. For a reason even he with the wisdom of years could not explain, the past and the present were melding here in this quiet room. He looked down at the woman who had always held his heart and smiled.
Gwynn gazed into G's green eyes as propped his head on his elbow to keep from crushing her. There had never been anyone else, and so she had told her father when he visited her. That had been some years back and her father was angry with her. He had plans for her that she did not agree to and as was the way of their people, he gave her only this small cottage and the gardens which were hers by right. She received no other gifts.
As he looked at Gwynn, G realized that she had given up more than he knew. As a youth, he had received all the gifts his family could give him, but, by taking Gwynn as he had, G had relegated her to this small strip of land. And he knew now, while with her in this small cottage, he had left her lonely while he was cursed by her family to wander. And the knowledge that he had been so careless of his love ached in his heart and flowed from his eyes.
Gwynn raised her hands in wonder to the sparkling drops. "Do not weep, my love. We have no time for sadness. You must give me the last one."
The last one. There had been five. So few were left on the dandelion when he picked it. The North Wind almost got them all that day. But he still had a chance. Even now.
Just as he was about to come, he opened his eyes and the face he saw was old and young at the same time. Gwynn had stayed with him through the remembrance and their bodies had followed the same path. A shaking and a deep sigh in her pulled him to the present and he closed his eyes and pumped into her with all his longing. For a reason even he with the wisdom of years could not explain, the past and the present were melding here in this quiet room. He looked down at the woman who had always held his heart and smiled.
Gwynn gazed into G's green eyes as propped his head on his elbow to keep from crushing her. There had never been anyone else, and so she had told her father when he visited her. That had been some years back and her father was angry with her. He had plans for her that she did not agree to and as was the way of their people, he gave her only this small cottage and the gardens which were hers by right. She received no other gifts.
As he looked at Gwynn, G realized that she had given up more than he knew. As a youth, he had received all the gifts his family could give him, but, by taking Gwynn as he had, G had relegated her to this small strip of land. And he knew now, while with her in this small cottage, he had left her lonely while he was cursed by her family to wander. And the knowledge that he had been so careless of his love ached in his heart and flowed from his eyes.
Gwynn raised her hands in wonder to the sparkling drops. "Do not weep, my love. We have no time for sadness. You must give me the last one."
The last one. There had been five. So few were left on the dandelion when he picked it. The North Wind almost got them all that day. But he still had a chance. Even now.
