Underground Lake

How exhilarating is child’s play! Wind whistled in Chimitsu’s ears as she sprang from one stone pillar to another. Mossy curves slipped beneath her fingers and left streaks on the soles of her feet, little fronds seeking hold on her toes and under her nails. The smell of the earth, dark and damp, was all around her. Wrapping a thick, ropey vine around her palm, she coiled the muscles in her legs and kicked. Reminded of another air trapeze performance, she fought a smile and let go with flair and a twist. Her landing almost jarred forth a laugh.

For the better part of today, and, if she were to be honest, a week or perhaps even a month, now, the forest’s reigning queen had been playing a game of hide and seek with her lover. Not that either had not seen the other in all this time—they had, in fact, seen each other quite often as they switched roles back and forth—nor that their game was childish so much as child-like. A training exercise, she often said as she bounded past her elves in either pursuit or flight, but they would laugh and shake their heads; none had seen their queen this enthused in some time.

As she straightened into a crouch, Chimitsu glanced about. She could feel him, not all too far behind her; he’d been keeping up well, for all the pains she’d taken to avoid him. This was a game she did not mind losing, however, and a smile threatened again at the thought of his triumph. Approaching the water’s edge, she dipped her hand into the cool liquid and lifted it to her lips; drank. It felt good to her parched throat, and she realized she was panting. Almost half the continent crossed, though little ground touched. This was training indeed. Her reflection, at least, showed no strain in her cheeks, nor fatigue in her eyes as they reflected light back undauntedly on the world. A few leaves caught in her hair, tendrils of vines curled up on the tea-green fabric of her detached sleeves or else caught in the brown leather ties. She exhaled, plucked a leaflet from her tresses, and sat down against a pillar to wait.

“Fuck!” The profanity escaped half snarl, half laugh.

Autumn chilled water clung to her form as easily as her lover’s did, damp fabric sliding against her flesh and soaking through her clothing. Her lips parted soundlessly as his callous palm clasped the nape of her neck; frigid rivulets trickled down the back of her tank top. With a violent squirm, she growled and fought to use his momentum against his intentions. His arms around her shoulders, she arched her torso against his and inhaled deeply; gods, he smelled amazing! She wrapped her fingers around his shoulders and shoved. Bare feet followed next, as her now-damp ensemble functioned to her benefit and left her slipping free against him.

“Got what, love?”

They landed in a tumble regardless. Anyone else and she’d have spring boarded off their back and away. As it was, she’d been running from Achilles for a good twenty-four hours now, and, dare she say it, she missed him. Among the cinnamon scent of the leaves they’d fallen into, she rolled to the top of coiled muscles and sunshine hair. Palms pressed to his shoulders, she straddled his waist and tossed her hair and all its accoutrement of leaves out of her face.

“I’m impressed,” she said. “I hardly touched the ground that whole time, and you kept up so easily.”

The sensation of his rolling beneath and between her legs was tantalizing. She was sure he could feel it too, catching his gaze as he did so. To this man alone would or could she show any such personal emotion, and she leaned forward to comb her fingers tenderly through his hair. Nearly two hundred years now, and he’d only ever given her reason to stay.

“Keeping up,” she said with a laugh, “is even more impressive. I wonder how much more excellent you’d be as a wolf; you’re more than an even match for me already.”

A shiver rolled up her hips under the light pressure of his fingers. Minutely increasing the pressure of her own fingers against his flesh, she bent towards him and dropped a kiss against the corner of his mouth. One hand reached back to comb the curtain of her hair out of her way. The action brought her abdomen down to his, and she could feel him breathing steadily under her, his heart thrumming steadily against her shoulder. That he would follow her so far…

If only you had been there to follow me the first time.

“I thought you had been winning,” she teased, playing with the ties of his bandana. “You found me, after all. Were you expecting a prize of some sort?”

“Don’t fall asleep on me now,” Chimitsu whispered.

Laughter tickled her throat as she watched his lids drop. Achilles was such a child at times, lulled into complacency by her touch and instigating their games. She traced one finger along the curve of his smile, lifted it gently around the shell of his ear. Her lips moved softly against his as she rested her hand over his chest. The feel of his heart fluttering like a butterfly was fascinating. Rolling to his side, she fit herself against the contours of his muscles and let her fingers dance across the plane of his pectoral.

“You flatter me.”

She shut her eyes and bent her neck to rest against him. And then he said it. Inhale. Breathe. Her eyes stayed shut and her breathing even apart from that first quick breath. Years of repression kept her reaction in check, but at that word, even she felt her chest tighten, her heartstrings pull. Squeezing her eyes tight, she opened them slowly thereafter. Her fingers curled slightly over his chest as her gaze focused somewhere beyond him.

“I…” am speechless…? “Don’t forget to breathe,”  she said, rubbing lightly across the shallows of his rib cage.

The word seemed stuck in her throat. It trickled out in the gentle swirls of her fingers on his skin, the soft cycle of breath from one set of lungs to the other. She shut her eyes again.

“You…keep me falling…in love every day…”