Author: Rhondda Lake rhonilak@icontech.com Title: Break Of Day Rating: NC-17 Summary: Behold the rising sun. Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were. Damn. Author's note: Many thanks to Nic and Lisa for the beta editing. These two give great Beta. ;) Break of Day By Rhondda Lake Are not the joys of morning sweeter Than the joys of the night? And are the vigorous joys of youth Ashamed of the light? - "William Blake" ---------------------------- Lately, I never pause to watch the sunrise, even when I am awake for them. There have always been other, more pressing concerns. Too much to do, too little time. When I was younger, a child really, I would like to watch the day awaken. I would sometimes sneak out early just to watch the light slowly paint the sky. The black fading to such an amazing blue, then that purest blue giving way to brilliant orange and yellows until I could no longer stare for the stinging of my eyes. It would take my breath away. Such a simple thing. Such a basic pleasure. Now here, I feel as if I am watching the sunrise for the first time. And I do not even have to look at the sky. I'm not sure what woke me. Perhaps it was something as simple as you turning over. Whatever it was, I am now grateful. First, with agonizing slowness, the rays of the newborn sun dances through my eastern-facing bedroom window. The light is orange. A manderine sweetness clinging to all it graces. I watch, propped up on one elbow, enraptured, as it begins to frolic over your skin, playing tag with the shadows your musculature creates. Each curl, on every hair of your chest is highlighted by an amber glow. The growing light strips away the shadows. The morning undresses you for me. Now the light is golden. You are gilt, shining, perfect. For a moment, I forget to breathe. I am almost afraid to touch you. My eyes trace upwards. I see the morning light bringing out the green in your eyes and I know you are awake. You have been watching me admire you. I feel a ridiculous blush creep over my face and shoulders. For it is foolish. We have seen each other naked before. Many times. You reach out to finger a lock of my hair, and that simple contact sends a shiver through me. "Fire." You breathe the word softly into the morning air. "Aren't you afraid of fire?" I hear myself thinking out loud. Your eyes caress my face as you nod. "You scare the shit out of me, Scully. But there's something hypnotic about fire, something addictive about playing with it." I lean in and trace the golden contours of your face with the tip of my nose. "Is that what we're doing? Playing?" "No. Never. I'm being consumed. But it's a wonderful thing, going up in flames. You burn away the shadows. The horror. You make me a phoenix." Your fingertips lightly trace the vein in my neck that beats with my pulse. You lay here before me, a golden feast, and I can see where the morning sun has burned away your darkness. Or is it me, as you say? "Not a phoenix... Apollo," I whisper over your lips before you kiss me. The kiss is long and deep, wet and slick, hard and seductive as you probe for my soul with your tongue. Your fingers trace arcane patterns over my flesh, summoning the sun to do your bidding, to blanket us as we lay here, entwined, lost in one another. Your fingers are hot, the sun is warm, and I know the meaning of burning with desire. I trace my own spells down your side, weaving our love over your ribs with blazing fingertips. Seeking the heat I want to engulf me. I find it and it throbs, hot and heavy in my hand. Your groan echoes through my body. I straddle you, seeking nothing else, no further urging or teasing to heighten my appetite for you. I sink down on that fire brand, yearning to quench the heat of us both. Rocking slowly, I watch your face in the sunlight. There is the look of pleasure and pain that belongs only to me as I feel you thrust into the depths of who and what I am. Each arch, each shuddering time I grind my hips into you, I feel the heat sweep through me. You cry out even as the flames overtake me. I am Icarus, falling away from the blinding sun. When I open my eyes, once more you are holding me in your arms. The golden beauty I have been admiring is now sparkling with the dewy pettles of our passion. I think I could get used to watching the sunrise again. The end. Feedback nourishes the soul.