Sin From My Lips
By Kamui
They began making excuses in case they got caught as soon as their eyes met. It was spring, she decided, and it was hot, and she was wearing a short sundress in the garden, and she wanted to take that off too. They'd been apart for a good while now, was how he saw it, and things just needed to be done when you met someone again.
That included swinging her up into your arms and then dumping her on the other side of a tree, except for god's sake, everybody knew they were on an incline and a tree can't hide everything, but let them look.
And if they needed one more excuse it was that they were the Romeo and Juliet to end all Romeo and Juliets Not that either of them would probably take kindly to being compared to two youths who eventually lose the will to live, but the situation was so damned uncanny that it was just the way it was, even down to the way he'd jumped over the wall to see her.
His hands got tangled in her bra straps, and she couldn't help but laugh. His expression said "What?" with a raised eyebrow and a mouth trying not to smile. He had things figured out in a moment, and then it was he with the upper hand. Most truly in fact, and it was that way because the sonnet was beginning and it began like this:
If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle sin in this. My lips, two blushing pilgrims ready stand, to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
She found it hard to laugh when there was someone else's tongue in her mouth so she gave that idea up as his hands went where hands probably shouldn't have been allowed to go. Was is profane? That depended on who you asked. To them it seemed like it was somewhere on the border between the sacred and the blasphemous, but the border had been trampled on so many times that it wasn't even noticeable anymore, it was an old scar in an inconvenient place so you weren't going to be noticing or looking at it all that much.
Hmm, the hands were lagging. They needed encouragement. She was only to happy to oblige.
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hands too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss.
She picked up the pace on his body, tearing at his clothes and sweeping her palms across his bared flesh, everywhere she could touch, to his hands where she knotted her fingers with his and said "Come on." Grinning, he found the strength to resist and just kissed her again.
Have not saints lips and holy palmers too?
Kisses were wonderful, kisses were heaven, but it other parts besides her mouth wanted to participate. Free hands tugged at the still constraining barriers, giggling and making sounds of annoyance as the task proved easy or difficult, whatever, no one honestly cared that much. New clothes could be bought, ripping took no thought, and there it was.
Ay pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Except that her lips were making some very unholy words, words she spoke only to him to let him know he was the only one allowed to do such a thing. She was certain that nobody else knew she could talk like this. Oh, let them wonder. Let them play their own games, this was hers, and the rules were known to them alone. Prayers turned to pleading from both sides, urgency taking them both by storm.
O then dear saint, let lips to what hands do. They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
And if the lips, the body, the...everything, were going to go where those hands were, then the gods themselves were going to be in complete shock where they heard those holy words. Everything was at the borderline, the borderline, and just to cross it, it was so close, so close, so...
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers sake.
Fire would have melted in their kiss as they splayed themselves over each other, under the sky, under the sun, trying to be quiet in case someone was around, but really, they couldn't have cared any less. Romeo had risked death for a few words. He to be executed on the spot if someone caught them but she, like Juliet, would keep them safe on her balcony, in her balcony, the upper gallery, and even in the catacombs.
Then move not while my prayers affects I take.
The world suddenly got a thousand times hotter and things came together, stretching, pulling, entering, pushing. Gasps rang across the perfect garden and demanded more than a word ever could. Was there a better word for the order he took than to say he was pounding into her, pushing her into the ground, grass-staining both of them beyond what one bath could take away, and if this was prayer, then tomorrow he was going to become a monk and school himself in Her Lady's church every night. His lips formed a grin against hers, a confession, the road dreams washing away from each of them and it spoke
Thus from my lips by thine my sin is purged.
She moved herself up, teaching him new ways to honor love in sin, and gave him a smile that would have sent a lesser man into pure, convulsing bliss.
Then have not my lips the sin that they have took?
Yes, they did. Oh, thank goodness they did, because that sin, that prayer was needed. It was ice water under the hot sun, it was the cold ground under the warm grass, it was the sky that was suddenly so close. It came rushing up to meet her eyes as she threw back her head and let the whole world know that there was something going on in the right wing of the garden, everybody come and watch, this is faith and love and sinning and it is everything anybody ever needed. Her hands gripped around his shoulders and begged him to follow her.
O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again!
Did he need to be asked? Not on your life. Did Romeo ask permission to climb over the walls and up that balcony and...well, the answer was no, anyway. He was already running after her on the path before she'd begged him, catching her up in his arms and they crashed through the sky together, another cry ripping across the heavens, across the garden, across the whole damn city, because they ought to come and look and see what they were missing.
Forced back into their bodies by a breeze she licked sweat off his cheek and tried to remember how one breathed.
You kiss by the book.
"Zelgadis-san...I think you owe me a new sundress..."
But for everything, for the stains, for the rips, it was all worth it. And hell yes it was worth risking death for, Romeo and Juliet had that part right. Sure, they were dead, but under the May sun in the afternoon, their heirs were young, and alive, and there were a hundred more sonnets to go through. The world would just have to wait for them to be done.
Back
