Light and Wine (9 page)

“All the way,” I tell her, holding the backs of straining little knees apart as I swallow and start to push again. “Open all the way for me, Lacie …”

Deliberate and loving, I sink with intent and insistence, and quick shallow notes echo into the chapel. Hazel eyes whisper the need for slow, steady strength as she tenses and relaxes, and tenses further in a soft pattern, but the faint beginnings of a smile trace the corners of her lips.
And I know it hurts, but trust in her and in God keeps me moving.

Soft was made for hard, as give was made for take.

Even as her body shakes and stings where love holds her open, Lacie shines steadily and soul-sure under pressure that aches for acceptance, because she was made for me.

As I push in constant, determined increments, the space between her hips and mine slowly closes. Neither light, nor air, nor sound slips between my skin and hers, and as I settle against her, enduring faith arches. Her shoulders come up from the altar with her backbone’s plea to bring flesh to flesh everywhere. Taut little peaks brush and slide along my bare chest as I lean down, wanting her to feel my heart pounding against hers, blood calling to blood in the warm, wordless language of life itself.

With my hands still pressed in the burning backs of her knees, Lacie wraps her arms around my neck. The small shift and give in our posture brings me inextricably closer, and with eyes closed, I feel all of her for the first time, tightly holding all of me.

I’ve wanted to walk in God’s light my whole life. I’ve sought and prayed and waited forever to find light, and now—

“Stay with me,” my calling whispers, brushing her thumbs under my ears, lifting my head. Her chin quivers, and she fastens her eyes to mine with the most plea-filled promise. “Right here. You’re right here—”

The slightest gasp of breath proves her words, and her brows furrow with want to let her lids fall. My blessing is all inhale and arch and open. She’s all receive and hold, and it’s almost painful because all I am, here and now, is made of light, and it’s light’s purest nature to expand.

To stretch and turn, and warm all that it can.

To unobscure and make vivid, and fill with the first of all God’s miracles.
Keeping our bodies touching and pink knees pressed open, I rest my forehead against Lacie’s and let our eyes close. Meaning and purpose flicker from the back of my neck, down my spine, and I rock smoothly forward.

The little glow that gives me light sings as I rock back and forward again, deeper into her with slow force that feels every bit as righteous as it does good. I slide all the way along and dig more than within, rocking deeper into her like a sacred word kept and fulfilled, and she opens up with more softness than I can bear.

But He gives me strength, and I’m so grateful I feel my lips curve with each ordained movement, honored to give all of myself to this. The thought, as I rock, of all that I am, of what makes me
me
, of my soul itself pouring from me into light burns through my mind and into my blood, through my limbs and hips and fingertips, and I want that. I suddenly want it more than anything, to fill her and wrap her in this feeling.

Opening my eyes, I shift my right hand from her knee to His altar. Her leg slides around me in turn, and I steady my weight above her shoulder as I rock, not asking her eyes to open, just watching. Her eyes are closed in bliss so staggering she can’t even bring her lips together, and her cheeks and chest burn with the rhythm of blushing life. Beautifully curved breasts move each time I do, and rosary beads roll against her chest as I rock. She holds fast to my arms, and I can see it as clearly as I can feel her, clinging desperately all along where I’m moving inside her.

She’s so close.
“Love,” I whisper, telling and calling, needing.

She’s been denied this part of love for so long.

Ever since she left childhood, innocent and yet-untouched, she’s craved this. Curiosity grew into exigent exploration. Fingertips and imagination soothed her longing day in and out, and brought countless confessions to me. Shy looks among others became timid touches when we were alone in her room, and kisses amidst Latin lessons became urgently sought pressure between plaid cotton and black wool. She began skipping classes just to soothe and indulge love’s ache, bringing me more repentance that yearned for forgiveness and care, but no amount of pleasure Lacie found in her own touch or on my lap could ever compare to this relief.

We’ve both waited, patiently and impatiently for the fullness of His word, and little forgiven and always adored deserves to feel what rightfully belongs to her.

With as much force as I dare, I push deeper than Lacie’s ever felt.

It elicits a whimper, and her eyelids press tightly to bear.

Holding firmly to her hips with both hands, I pull back enough to miss the inviolate warmth of light before heavily bringing her back to me, and pushing completely within again.

Light’s pink lips open further and she tightens her fingers against my shoulders. Her sounds echo and climb higher, grateful for the immaculate mercy of being full and asking for more still, pleading to overflow with devotion she was built for, belongs to, and will never, ever lose.

Eyes on candle-gleaming skin, I guide her smoothly away and then back onto me with intentionally slow strokes. Dark lashes flutter and rise, barely not falling again as she arches with want to accommodate more. I smile over her, and held open legs tighten against my sides.

Lifted and held up for me, I keep her still and just rock, sliding barely out and deeper inside with every push. I watch and listen. I breathe roses and taste wine, and am too full of light to remain so nearly still. She’s too lush not to move passionately inside of, and I know she feels it, too. The little cries spilling from her are for more, not less, and as her lids fall, I know it’s in fervor, not hurt.

I breathe the scent of newly opened flowers deep into my chest as I grip tighter. Guiding her more than halfway away from my length, I hold my breath until she whimpers with missing, and I return her to myself with a quickness that pushes all the air from both of us.
Warm.
Warm.
So wholly warm, everywhere.
“Is it too much?” I ask while a hymn I’ve never heard love sing is still echoing around us.

I try to take another deep breath, but manage only shallow pants as I watch Lacie’s chest rise and fall in want for the same. Wrapped arms and helplessly wide-open legs shake around me while the place she’s warmest and so tightly softest trembles, too. Her eyes hold mine, but no words come.

I move through awaiting her answer, and I feel it.

She isn’t just trembling.

It’s more than that.
The throbbing all around me matches exactly what I’m filled with.
Her heart.
Surrounding and cradling me, swelled and pleading for me to come closer than close, to not stop, to not ever, ever, ever stop, her pulse pounds with abandon.
My knees dip weak for flying beats, and I groan, holding light down and digging my hips against her.
“Lacie,” I beckon, brushing my thumbs over her hips with all the patience I have. “Lacie …”
Dark lashes are wet as they lift for my voice, and more beloved to me than life looks up with need so bare, so vulnerable, so pure, I can’t help pushing to give her more.

Tears slide down pink cheeks, but needy fingers tighten their grip on my skin.
“Is it too much?” I ask again, barely above a whisper, struggling more than I want to admit to remain mostly still.
Breathing uneven, erratic little gasps, she hiccups as she tries to swallow. Filled-wide eyes wander from mine to the chapel ceiling, then all around us, searching as she tries to form words, and I know.

She doesn’t know.

“Ask for help,” I whisper, watching her blink and weep too-heavy heaven.
Her voice breaks around the sound she makes, filling the chapel, while overflowing eyes search high and low before returning to mine.

No longer seeking.
Found.
I sink deeply forward, and she lifts for it. She opens to meet me and love, and she calls his name so loudly.
“God—” she cries, the relief in her plea so visceral I know He’s with her, just as He is with me.
“There you are,” I whisper, smiling as she arches beneath me. Resplendent in her piety, she presses her little belly up to mine, and her skin is so soft there. I can feel praise fluttering with light’s pulse, and I want to bring it forth, from her lips to His ears and mine.

Bringing her with me as I start to really, sincerely move, I lean up and shift my weight enough to bring my right hand between us.

“Is this where they are?” I ask, laying my fingers below her bellybutton and pressing with my palm. “Is this where you keep your prayers, Lacie?”

Shallow breaths rush to staccato gasps, her lips unable to close around the fullness of completing love. Her lashes lift higher as I bring myself away, only to push deeper and deeper still, making her sing every tiny intake of air. Even as I move, glowing notes beg me closer and closer still, and line my backbone with strength to stand straight and give all.

“Let them out,” I whisper, enamored with the love written across tense eyelids and the way her whole body moves under mine as I press against her belly.

Praise-pitched breaths catch in her throat. For a second she’s silent, suspended almost, somewhere above me, closer to Him than even I have ever been, and then God’s unfolding light tilts her head back and curves completely up against my form.

“Marc,” she gasps, her whole little frame tensing and shaking as she digs her fingers into my shoulder and clenches a handful of my hair. “God, God—”

I don’t stop moving.

I stay with her, right where she is.

And right before my eyes, under my hips and in my arms, holding onto me with everything, Lacie lets out the sweetest cry. She sings for the Maker of Heaven and Earth in His own language. All wonder and grace, she wraps me in prayers as the vessel that carries her soul accepts and honors love.

She comes, and it’s all I can do to keep from coming after.

Hot tears slide down hotter cheeks as I lean over her, taking the gift of her abundance onto my lips with grateful reverence. Warmer, softer, impossibly more blissful to move inside of, light that soaks tightly clings to me as I slip under the weight of instinct and fall blindly into the need to truly fulfill her.

Hardly finished flourishing for the first time this way, precious and praying winces as I move helplessly harder. Her left hand joins her right in my hair, struggling for the effort to give me more of herself, and my backbone burns like a candle flame under God’s thumb: hopeful, deliberate, and unwavering.

Gripping at my roots as I revel, wholly surrendered, Lacie brings her parted lips to my cheek, and I hear her softly talking to God the way all angels do.

“Holy, holy, holy Lord,” she whispers, her pace quick with movements and her breath like petals against my skin. “God of power and might. Heaven and Earth are full of your glory. Hosanna, hosanna—”

Devotion breaks into a keen that I endear to with every part of myself.

“God, God,” my love cries, crimson pink from her temples to the tips of her breasts.

Pressing down with my palm, I push deeper under God’s will, and turn little light into an intuitive hymn.

Timeless.

Ageless.

Most sacred.

She slips more tears that reach her upturned lips before I can, and holds my awe in her eyes as He cleaves us completely together.

We’re on the altar still, but we’re not.

We’re so much higher.

Dark eyes that can’t stop leaking search mine as I tilt closer, pressing hips that can’t stop moving all the way to hers. I rock into and against her, and the faith she looks up at me with makes my heart pound so fast, so hard, I feel its rhythm in every muscle.

Even as I move, even as pure elation streams through her in decadent waves with every push of His will through my hips, Lacie gives me truth she can’t contain with her eyes.

And with it, all her trust.

Little light that loves to be touched can’t stop.

She needs to keep coming.

Right here.

Just like this.

Divinity strengthens my sinews tightly against bones that ache to be ever closer to Heaven’s heart. My legs shake as they steady, and I pour my weight through love, making her breath, blood, and whole body strain to accommodate all that we are together. It’s tremendous and dire in this girl, but His table offers solid support beneath us.

She adjusts her grip to hold me better,
and my spine floods with light. Wild pleasure takes worldly composure more and more apart with each stroke. Every beat of my heart feels like escaping sublunary limits and entering eternity. Every breath feels like spreading wings, like growing.

Like becoming.

Tangled tendrils of brindled brown hair sway with our movements, twisting around Lacie’s face as her transcendent cry-sighs melt like starlit snowflakes into my skin each time I fill her. With her mouth open and aching as a new flower, she holds fast to me as I embed love where she needs it the very most. Her cheeks blush darker while her softest, smallest muscles flutter sweetly against my work, and the spark of creation kindles low in my body. Pure, generous, and urgent, I need to love her. I need to come inside her. I need to give her this part of myself I’ve never, ever shared.