The following words were shared with me... they are such soft, caring, loving words - they clearly show the tenderness between the man and the woman and their words and gestures illustrate clearly the intimacy and love they share... For all you lovers... I know you will feel the words here... and that you will also feel the love...
~§~§~§~§~§~§~§~§~§~§~§~§~§~§~§~§~§~§~§~
He put his head to her shoulder, drew her tighter. She stirred in her sleep, moved too, her arms around him, drawing him back to her. He smelled the skin of her shoulder, breathing in the air that had been on her flesh, was scented by her, perfumed by no perfume, carrying her own smell only. He closed his eyes, to concentrate on the sensation. He opened them, drew in her sleeping look again, moved his head to hers, his tongue out flickering under her nose to feel the flow of breath, anxious to touch the thread of her life. The tip of his tongue, and the tiny hollow between her lips and nose, vexed and caved as if designed.
Her lips parted, closed again; her lips rubbed against each other, side to side, and her nose wrinkled. He watched these things with secret delight, as fascinated as a child playing boo with an adult who kept disappearing round the side of a cot.
She slept on. He rested his head again.
He felt her move and looked down. Her knuckles rubbed her eyes, her hair spilled, she patted her nose and cheek and smiled at him..
He looked at her smile. He had seen a few smiles he might have killed for, but never one he'd die for. What else could he do but smile back.
"Why do you always wake before me?"
"I don't know," he sighed So did the house, as the breeze moved its equivocal walls. "I like watching you sleep."
"Why?" She rolled and lay on her back, turning her head to him, the hair rolling bounteously towards him. He laid his head on that dark fragrant field, remembering the smell of her shoulder, stupidly wondering if she smelt different awake than asleep.
He nuzzled her shoulder and she laughed a little, shrugging that shoulder and pressing her head against his. He kissed her neck and answered before he forgot the question completely.
"When you're awake you move I miss things."
"What things?" he felt her kiss his head.
"Everything you do. When you're asleep you hardly move I can take it all in. There's enough time."
"Strange," her voice was slow.
"You smell the same awake as you do asleep, did you know that?" he propped up his head and looked into her face, grinning.
"You..." she started,, then looked down. Her smile sad when she looked back up. "I love hearing that sort of nonsense," she said.
He heard the unsaid part. "You mean you love hearing that sort of nonsense now, but won't at some point in the future."
"I suppose, " she said, holding his hand. "You think too much of the future"
"Maybe we'll cancel out each other's obsessions then."
He laughed " I suppose I walked into that one."
She touched his face, studied his eyes."I really shouldn't fall in love with you, Zakalwe."
"Why not?"
"Lots of reasons, all the past and all the future: because of who you are, and who I am . Just everything."
"Details," he said waving one hand.
She laughed, shaking her head and burying it in her own hair, she surfaced and gazed up at him.
"I just worry it won't last."
"Nothing lasts forever remember?"
"I remember," she nodded slowly...
Both of these passages are from the book
"Use of Weapons" by Ian Banks