Seeing him there, the light in his eyes, the height and strength of him, the surity of how he carries himself. The king of his domain, regardless of what domain he happens to be in at the time. The world falls back into shadows, and only he glistens there in the reality that instantly becomes your world.The first words. The realization of his voice, sure, confident, spoken into the very air you inhale, becoming a part of you as your breathe deeply. Despite the chaos that tumbles through your mind, the current drama life has flung at you, he lured you there as a confidante, just to talk, just to listen but there he is and you're hearing his voice, watching his expressions, seeing that little dimple he has when you say something funny - that dimple you never noticed before in a photo.
These are the moments this life is about.
Watching his expressions, the tone of his voice matching the movement of his body. Instantly he has changed, after a year of random back-and-forth emails, he is finally real. So very, very real.
The first touch
That nervousness of his hand on you, even platonically, because he knows you're distracted with thoughts of something else. He knew when he called, but he beckoned anyway, and you went. And that calm settles over you. There's a peace found with him that you hadn't experienced before. You'd read about it, you'd written about, and God knows you've heard about it, but now you KNOW about it, and you want more of it.
The first good-bye
That time when you have to leave, even if you don't want to. The time when you gather every ounce of sass and bravado your body can muster and start to walk away. Alone. A teasing grin, a promise of plans, your damn heart still betraying you with reactions you never dreamed would happen as you fight to contain it, not let it show.His voice saying to wait but your heart, the coward that it is, pleads with you to run. You don't turn back until he demands it, but you continue walking, looking back at him, still grinning, still hoping, your heart begging you to hit your knees and crawl to him if you must, but you deny it all and continue walking backward, keeping him in sight as he follows, never realzing at the time that he'd never follow you again.
The first real touch
He strips away any idea of platonic. He pulls you close, so close, holding you to him, pressing his body against yours, and that strength you saw, now you feel it, the curve of a bicep under your fingers, the span of his chest against your breasts, his thighs aligned with yours, the perfect sizes, the perfect fit. You inhale him, his scent, his heat molding your body, your hands on his neck, memorizing the feel of him, just in case there's never a second change. Then more, his hands on are you, under the jacket, fingers spread widely against your back, dancing along your ribs, the outter curve of your breasts, the strength if his fingers as they skim your body, along your sides, down the flair of your hips, to the roundness of your bottom and you know he's feeling you, really feeling you, the shape of you under all those clothes you wore as a sense of false protection. His mouth, that delicious mouth, just inches from your ear, whispering, "Close your eyes."And you do. For him, you do.
That first kiss
Soft, pliable lips, ever so talented, barely grazing your cheek. The music of the room fades away, the sounds of clinking glasses turn to windchimes in your mind. Magical sounds. With your eyes closed, every other sense sharpens, concentrates, focus, is magnified a thousand times stronger now that you can't see, can't see his face, can't see his movements. Your heart falls into your belly and you shake. Your entire body trembles as his mouth ever so softly kisses your check. His voice, next to your ear. So close. So there, but this time, no phone invades the space. It's just you. It's just him. It's just you two together and nothing else. And you can feel his breath now, and his promise of, "Next time I won't kiss you on the cheek."