Promises to keep
Catriona Snape
Mine, mine, mine, you’re mine today.
All mine.
Of course, I know it’s just a brief sensation- I will be so awfully aware that
our time together is running out, our volatile encounters a quotidian way to
remember what I want and what I can’t fully have- you; in the end, it’s all
a trifling way to defy the reality of our positions. But it’s different,
today, because- because we’re alone. Truly, maddening alone.
I feel the urgency in your eyes as you close the door. Five minutes, even less-
seconds beating through your pulse as your hands define the contour of my hips
through the clothes. Real, you’re real under the neck of your uniform, as
urgency opens your mouth at the joining of our lips. I want you so much but I
can’t think of a way to make my wish happen and find any good move to have
more time and less pressure for ourselves- and I somehow ask to myself if what
I’m feeling right now I would taste into a leisurely exploration. I will have
it too, but for this moment I have you, and it will be enough, even after the
weeks we had to endure apart.
Because, of course, Keith, now I have you.
You, real flesh under the rough wool of the uniform I’m opening. The hand that
teases my breast and itself with the inconsistent elusive presence of a body
under clothes we can’t open too much. Hardness and hair for my lips and hands
that make your cap tumble on the floor and test the soft curls military rules
cut too short for my eager senses. I close my eyes and shut out any other
sensation but your body and mine and anything related to them (clothes and
leather ad metal and) and to pleasure in mind-blinding frenzy. I wish for us
the time to plea to each other some kind of release, but we’re caught so
deeply into what we create, and we know, anyway, we can’t have it. Not now,
not here.
”I love you-“
The chime of you office’s door freezes us. “I’m coming, one second-“
Your voice tries its ability and you seem cold, if a bit hasty, to the man
outside the room.
”Will I see you tonight?”
I catch your eyes as you button your uniform. ”Of course.”
A smile, and I vanish through the back door under the comfort of my promise. You
will be mine, again…
disclaimer: I don’t own Admiral Firmus Keith Piett or Leia. George
Lucas does.
