Selena Kitt - Quickies

He took a quivering breath, shaking his head, his eyes wild, hungry. "If you knew…"

"I do know." She touched his cheek, traced his lips, feeling the pulse of him buried in the hot recesses of her body, every muscle taut, waiting for him to let go. It was beyond pleasure, beyond sensation itself, just out of reach, as if waiting for them to catch up. "I feel it. Don't you feel it?"

"Yes." The look of bewildered longing in his eyes made her slip her hand behind his head, pulling his mouth to hers and kissing him hard as he began to move in her.

They rocked together, the heat of their bodies, their breath, filling the little room.

There was no holding back now, their soft cries melting together as they moved toward some blissful destination shimmering on the horizon, and she watched it recede with every motion forward, an aching mirage. Desperate, greedy, she clung to him as if he could take her there, the thick pound of his cock driving her hard against the cot as she begged him for more.

"Harder," she gasped into his ear, her teeth raking his neck, his shoulder. "Oh Finn, please, I'm…"

"Coming," he groaned, thrusting deep and she felt it burst, the energy trapped between them released in a bright, white hot explosion.

"There," she whispered, her eyes closing, her body giving in to the sensation, expanding, contracting, filled with everything and nothing all at once. Eternity had never been so close.

There wasn't room for them both on the little cot, but Finn made himself her bed, rolling beneath her, finding the edge of her sleeping bag and pulling it over them for warmth. There weren't words, and Mary didn't miss them. Instead, she pressed her cheek against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and felt nothing but awe as they drifted off together toward some even deeper destination.

* * * *

"You said we were going to do the right thing."

"This is the right thing, Mare." Finn was heading out the door, and she followed, like she always did, feeling small. "We're scientists. We can't possibly let this discovery go unreported. This is bigger than relativity!"

"And we know how well that turned out," she grumbled, pulling her parka hood closer as they headed toward the snowmobiles. He had loaded the ice cores she'd pulled onto the sled, and now meant to take them to the drop-off point. The helicopter he'd radioed would be there in less than an hour.

"We need bigger equipment to test this with," he insisted, reaching back and grabbing her hand, pulling her with him. "An accelerator, for one. We have to be sure we've found what we think we've found."

Mary stopped, pulling him up short, and he turned to look at her. "You're not sure?"

"I don't know." Finn shrugged. "That's what I want, though. I want to be sure."

"I'm sure."

"Good for you." He looked defiant, and it reminded her of the Finn she'd experienced the night before, in the lab.

"I know what we found." She caught both of his gloved hands in hers, squeezing so he could feel her. "I know what I felt. I know what I feel. "

"What does that have to do with anything?" He frowned, but his eyes softened when he looked at her face.

"It has everything to do with everything." She smiled, wanting to kiss the frown line creasing his forehead. "Finn, I love you. I've loved you for as long as I can remember."

"Aw, Mare…" He swallowed, looking away, down at the snow.

She took a deep breath. "Don't do this."

"I have to." His jaw tightened and he left her standing there, trudging toward the snowmobile. It was running, the headlight a beacon in the darkness. She turned, making her decision, knowing she couldn't go with him and turn their discovery over to the rest of the world.

"Hey!" His voice, calling her, made her turn back. "Mary! Quick!"

She couldn't see well enough in the darkness, but his voice was panicked, and she broke into a run. The snow under her feet was lightly packed, but it had stopped falling at least, giving her a clear path to him.

"What's the matter?" she gasped, and then turned to where he was pointing, his eyes dark with anger.

"Did you do that?" His voice was angry, and she winced.

The bags on the back of the sled were empty. She knelt beside them, running her gloved hands over the surface. The ice cores were gone. They hadn't melted-there was no water or residue inside-and they hadn't evaporated, either, because the bags were completely flat, as if nothing had ever been in them in the first place.

Mary looked up and met Finn's accusing eyes. "I didn't. Finn, I've been with you the whole time!" It was true, and he knew it.

His shoulders slumped, his face falling. "Then what…how in the hell?"

She took his offered hand, letting him help her up. "I don't think we're supposed to understand."

"Oh fuck that." He threw up his hands, reaching over and turning off the snowmobile. "What the hell are we here for, if not to understand?"

"We can't see it…touch it…taste it…" She turned her face up to the sky, completely clear now, the stars even brighter than before. "We can just feel it."

"I don't feel anything," Finn growled, kicking at the sled.

"I think you do." She reached out and squeezed his gloved hand, feeling him give, just a little.

"Fuck," he muttered, but he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her in closer.

"Look." She pointing to the horizon where a slow, lazy rainbow of colors danced in the sky-the aurora borealis, a rare event this time of year.

"Goddamnit, Mary." Finn's voice was choked as he pressed his lips to her forehead. "I love you. You know I do."

She smiled, her eyes filled with the ever-changing, infinite light of the universe, and spoke the truth with a certainty she'd never understood until that moment.

"I know."

All These Years

She likes adventure with security

And more than one man can provide…*

I'm supposed to tell you how old we were, how long we were married and all that stuff? You want to know how many kids we had, what we each did for a living, and just exactly how it all happened, down to the last rationalized detail, do I got that right?

That's how these tales are spun?

Like it matters.

That kind of stuff was like the water all around, and I was just a fish in the bowl, bumping up against the glass.

I sure wasn't thinking about any of that on my way home, an awful ache in my belly from eating at some damned new Mexican place down the street for lunch. I'd asked a buddy to punch me out and left an hour early just to get home to the minimal comfort of my own toilet, and I wasn't sure I was going to make it, even then.

Molly's car was in the drive, and I smelled supper before I even opened the back door. Something experimental, I could tell already, thick and heavy with spice, and that made my bowels clench in agony as I passed the stove. The menu was on the refrigerator-she liked to print them out, for me, she said, so I'd know every day what we were having, no surprises, on thick white paper with funny dancing silverware on the top-but I didn't stop to read it.

I only had one thing on my mind. Two left turns, and I had my hand on the bathroom doorknob. I hadn't even stopped to wonder where she might be-the TV was off, but that wasn't unusual. Her laptop wasn't open on the kitchen table, either. No music was coming from the basement, where she had her elliptical and her rowing machine all set up. But I wasn't thinking about any of it-her routine, how she moved through her day without me there-it was like water, air, life. It just was.

And then, it wasn't.

A man knows the sound of his wife's pleasure. He knows it like he knows the sounds of his house settling, the ticking of the furnace, the creak in the boards by the stove. After a time, it becomes a familiar sound, a comfortable sound, one that carries heat and light, like the lamp that goes on by the front door every night at six.