The Mountain

by Korusialhogi

The sweet oblivion of sleep was slowly retreating, giving way to consciousness and reality. I clung to that haunting state of partial awareness, stubbornly refusing to take that last step over the threshold of Morpheus's kingdom and greet the new day. That limbo between awareness and unconsciousness was so sweetly addicting I fought determinately to save the last vestiges of my slumberous state.

Through the haze obscuring my mind, the consciousness was penetrating in. Under the disguise of sounds, smells and sensations, pronounced by the state of my mind yet not fully liberated from the captivity of sleep, the reality was setting in.

Somewhere from the deepest bowels of reality the heavy sounds of running water invaded my mind. Images akin to dream flashed before my minds' eyes. A snapshot of him standing under the heavy descent of hot droplets. The beads rushing down from showerhead to kiss, caress, lick his perfectly carved body, then to fall down to his feet to warship him from there. The thought of him was so potent, his image so realistic, my belly tightened convulsively, sensations slowly returning to my body. Another step to wakefulness. My body groaned with realization of soreness. Tender all over and deep within, marked and owned by him. The ghost of his touch still lingered on my body like an invisible tattoo, an irremovable claim. The silky covers engulfing me reawakened the burn on my buttocks that his belt left last night. Phantom smell of the leather assaulted my senses. A remembrance. His belt caressing my cheek. Next, moving to rest against my lips. A demand for a kiss to be surrendered to the supple leather, a reverence to his dominance. The smell of leather burning itself into my nostrils and my memory.

His presence grew more potent, taking shape. Coming out of my reverie, I realized the water had stopped falling. His heavy hand slipped under the covers to pat my behind, the rough skin of his palm reigniting the pain and the burn. I whimpered melting into the bedding. That one possessive gesture was enough for me to shed all the protective layers, the shell I use to hide myself, the shield against the world, and lay there unmoving, melted boneless, will-less creature, a simple mirror of his own desires.

Those hands, I worshiped those hands - their strength, their gentleness. They knew to hold and to caress, to love and to reward, to punish and to castigate. Those relentless hands that knew how to tear me apart and put me back together, making me whole again, more so than I ever was before, than I could ever hope to be.

His hand withdrew, his heavy body leaning over me, crushing me with his weight. His hot breath tickled the back of my head, burning away any desire to fight his dominance, his will. It made me want to bury myself deeper yet into the bedding, hide myself from his scrutiny, from the crushing power he had over me. At the same time I never wanted him to take his eyes off me, never wanted to be out of his grasp, never wanted to be set free.

"I know you're awake, beautiful." His reach voice rumbled into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. My blood pumped faster, heart beating rapidly, for him, only for him. I stayed unmoved, lying still under the pressure of his radiating power.

His heat withdrew from me. My eyes drifted open, just a slit. He was standing in the middle of the room, his powerful body bare, carved muscles shifting and undulating under his skin as he vigorously rubbed the towel over his hair. I was basking in the strength he emanated, admiring the sight in front of me. He had his mighty feet firmly planted on the floor, standing like a colossus unmoving and unaffected. Like the Greek Titans that once ruled the coarse world.

They say I am a force of nature and I am - a stormy ocean, restless and unpredictable. But he, he is a mountain standing tall and proud over the ocean. It will remain motionless, unperturbed by the rage of the ocean, waiting, expecting. The ocean will hiss and spit fire, it will rise and come down on the mountain with an almighty wall of water intent to crush the crag, but will instead be crushed against the solid surface of the rocks. The storm will pass and the ocean will fall silent once again, it will retreat to the feet of the mountain, gently rubbing itself against the stony Titan, venerating it. And when it does, the mountain will still be standing strong and silent, undisturbed by the fiery display of the temper. Several small scars will be adorning its magnificent body, just a reminder of another storm it had survived. It will keep looking down at the ocean, hovering over it like a gentle giant pledged to protect the ocean, its back to the winds and storms, sheltering the brief peace of his beloved.

I rose from where I was lying, still bare, exposed. I slowly walked to him and slid down to my knees. His hands stopped, the towel dropping down. He grabbed me by my chin and forced my head up, his eyes penetrating me to my core.

My rock, my mountain.

~ Korusialhogi

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