#the fugitives

"Alrighty Mr Alvez - today is your day to be pampered - any requests?"

"The movie thing sounded good as a start…Ms Garcia Then see how we feel afterwards?"

Luke waggles his eyebrows at her - super happy to be spending the day with Penelope.

"Sounds good. Hie thee to my DVD collection and if you don't see something you fancy … we can go rent something or watch cable. Capiche?"

"Sounds good. Can you make popcorn while I choose, if I bat my eyes at you and say pretty please?"

"Nope."

"No?"

"The price of popcorn is a kiss - eye batting only gets you jelly beans."

"My mistake… so what would I owe you if I want pizza, beer, licorish, and chocolate cake?"

Then he leans in and kisses her.

Luke falls into the kiss even though it is chaste and brief.

When he tastes her lips it hits him like he hasn't kissed her in a decade… even though in reality it's been less than a few minutes.

Luke shifts back and away - gently breaking their touch - Penelope's eyes have drifted closed - and as he separates them, he feels how her body unconsciously sways forward so that their contact is maintained for as long as possible.

He gathers the beatific smile which stains her lips and lines the edges of her eyes into himself - torn almost to pieces as he realizes it is strained almost microscopically by melancholy born of their job and other tiny stresses he wishes he could erase. He brushes a stray curl off her cheek - and like lightning it is not popcorn and pop-culture he wants to share with her today.

It is music.

He stands abruptly.

Her eyes shoot open and she topples slightly.

Luke grins madly - re-energized by his impulse - and offers Penelope his hand…he's posed like he's asking her to join him for a dance...she blinks up at him then tentatively places his hand in his.

Luke yanks her up - pulling her body flush and hard against his - ravishing her mouth - growling deep and posessively in the back of his throat - and then ripping himself away - his hands burning from the warmth of her - his eyes filled with determined fire.

"Pen? Let's forget about the movie and popcorn for now. Come - I want to show you something back at my place."

...........................

Roxy is gambolling in the snowy backyard - the weather is perfect - just a little below freezing - and since Miss Penny insisted she wear her coat - she'll be comfy out here for ages.

She's also super happy to have some human-free outside time to do her dog stuff. She likes spending so much time with Sergio and Penny - but their apartment really lacks in the outdoor space department. Sometimes a dog just needs some unsupervised digging and squirrel chasing time, y'know? Maybe they could all move here? Hmm she'll have to talk it over with Sergio and see what he thinks…

..........................

Inside, Luke carefully pours the craft beer - craft beer he insisted on picking up on the way over - down the inside of one of the Game of Thrones pint glasses that a friend got him for Christmas last year. The pour is perfect - the beer a deep brown - the foam just right. He does a little internal fist pump and moves to pour the second.

His Penelope may usually be a margarita girl - but Luke is sure she'll appreciate this dunkelweizen - it's one of his absolute favourites and a totally perfect pair for the album he's thinking of.

Another perfect pour - another internal fist pump. He is on fire!

...which is a good thing because jokes about there being no such thing as getting too much head would be beneath him…

Grinning and dance-stepping his way out of the kitchen, Luke carries the two alcoholic offerings into the living room where the fabulous Penelope is waiting - her socks and footless leggings shucked off almost the second they arrived to be comfy - her bare legs and feet tucked up under her - her head bowed over her phone - hair swung down around her face hiding her expression.

Luke can't help but pause and stare. Even though he's been practically living with her since they got back from the case he rarely gets the chance to watch her just be. There is a rightness about her being in his apartment that he is not going to examine too closely… but he knows he wants it to be a very permanent part of his lifr. So instead, he concentrates on the pure pleasure of looking at her.

She must feel his eyes on her because just then she looks up - meeting his smile - her serious perfectly made up face bursts into an expression as joyous as a sunrise.

"Penelope Garcia. Have I told you today how gorgeous you are?"

She frowns in mock thought.

"Not that I recall...and I can usually be trusted to remember a compliment. How gorgeous am I?"

"Hmmm. I think I will let the surprise speak to that. Let me just put these down. Now come over here, Chica."

Luke offers his hand again and she again - trustingly puts hers in his. He helps her up and draws her over to a tall narrow two-doored taupe cabinet in the corner of the room that Penelope has never paid much attention to.

As she frowns slightly at the bare top - Why doesn't he have any photos or nicknacks anywhere? - Luke opens the two solid doors.

Penelope gasps - the cabinet that is as tall as her holds shelf after shelf of cd cases.

Slowly she traces a finger along the spines of the cases - realizing very quickly that she recognizes almost none of the musicians or album names.

"There's more in the guest bedroom. It's the only thing I collect. There is probably every genre of music on the planet in this apartment - famous musicians - obscure - brilliant and really really awful."

"How did I not know this about you?"

Luke shrugs.

"I don't talk about it with anyone really. I like listening to an album all the way through - without doing anything else except snuggle with Roxy - maybe read a novel if the music is purely instrumental. It's sort of a private thing, I guess? Some friends and my mom who stored them all for me for years. When I was in the army I'd have new albums delivered to her place when I was deployed. I had so much to listen to when I got out. It was kind of part of my recovery."

"That's really...it's…"

Penelope has no words - instead she just grabs his hand and squeezes - then turns back to the siren song of scanning the titles of the collection.

"My grandmother, if you'll believe it, keeps trying to convince me to switch to a streaming service instead. But I like CDs - or vinyl - I've got maybe 60 or 70 records - they are in the back bedroom too. It's the whole package, you know? I want the art and the liner notes and the printed lyrics. I have never gotten rid of a single album and I've been collecting since I was in high school - I ah dated a drummer who dragged me to every Indie music venue we could get into. Pretty soon I was the one dragging her. And when we broke up - I never stopped."

"True love."

"I guess so. That sounds better than obsession or dork… I mean it's not just shows… I have an album for every town we've caught an unsub - I mean I often have to research and order them once I'm home - but it's just something I've always done - there's ah also one for anywhere I apprehended a fugitive, every place I ever trained or deployed, everywhere I've ever lived, every live music act I've been in the same bar as...every…"

The timber of Luke's voice deepens. He's looking at her face, not his collection now.

"..every vacation."

Penelope's head whips around. Her eyes are round like an owl's.

Her lips have shaped a soft "oh!"

"There's...there's.. one for when we got together? Where? What is it?"

"Over here, Chica. I bought it when we went to the show - you had gone off to get us drinks or something - and I saw it at the gift table that was set up...the band had apparently toured the Fringe circuit with the guy in the show - so I bought their first album…Plus well the band is called The Fugitives...and that's kinda my thing right?"

He has handed her a case...The Fugitives is definitely the band's name...So "In Streetlight Communion" must be the album title… she opens the case and finds it empty.

"It's in the player. It's practically the only thing I have listened to since we got back. Will you listen to it with me? I think...you're going to love it."

Penelope's eyes are shining. The corners of her perfectly made up cherry red lips tug into a smile.

She had insisted on looking presentable if they were leaving her apartment.

"Yes please."

Luke lets go of a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"To the couch?"

"To the couch! Wait! Can we um take a selfie together first? I was just thinking I wanted a work appropriate picture...of us...together. Nothing fancy...just side by side smiling? I...just...don't always have pristine make-up around you - seriously you need to work on that, Mister."

He chuckles. It's true - he does have a habit of kissing off her lipstick and smudging the rest of it. It's why he had grumbled a bit when she decided that if they were going out she was "doing her face" - he'd just be kissing it off, so why bother?

"'course, Chica."

But then, when she pouted and faux-growled, he had made a big show of having a change of heart and had declared it would be good if she did as she wanted since it would serve as an anti-ravishing device - increasing the odds that they would make it to his surprise...

Hence, why Penelope figures now is the best time for this mini idea - her lips and red tortoiseshell glasses may become askew later… especially if the music is going to make her feel...well anything really….so it makes sense that they take a moment to stand in front of a stretch of eggshell wall and capture today in her camera.

FLASH!

Good. They look a little bug eyed. He looks happy and she looks put together. Not too couple-y so it would be a safe thing to include in her cheer-up camera roll… perfect for hard days...

Once Penelope has texted a copy to Luke - they head to the couch holding hands - Luke with the cd player remote and the case - Penelope filled to the brim with anticipation.

"Ok - now I know you aren't usually a beer person...but I have hopes you'll like this one. Honestly it's the best match I've found for this album. It's fruity but also round and toasty because it's a dunkleweissen - a dark wheat beer. And since you are an eco warrior - you'll be happy to know it's made in town by a husband-wife team who founded the brewery a couple years ago."

"Stop making me like you, Luke Alvez!"

"Never!"

They kiss.

"But seriously - I'm nervous about whether you'll like it or not. Ok try a sip. What do you think?"

Penelope takes a sip not worried - she can drink beer. But when she takes a sip - she realizes there is beer and then there is beer. This is caramel and leather - a mouthful of sex and copper - rich and warming - unlike a whiskey or scotch there is something heavier more nourishing about the liquid - it doesn't burn on the way down or make her sinuses open with the heat - it's more like a sinful mouthful of fruity chocolate or dark comforting sourdough bread.

"So?"

Penelope takes a second sip - holding the gorgeous drink in her mouth as she deliberately places the pint glass on the coffee table.

Demurely lowering her gaze, she turns to him - shooting him a sultry look under her lashes - thankful he has not yet picked up his glass - because she needs to…

Penelope kisses him. Keeping her lips sealed until they meet his - pushing her tongue through the tightness - wet with beer - licking along the seam of his mouth so that he opens - his tongue coming out to play...tasting...oh my fuck...tasting…

Her tongue invites itself into his mouth...she lifts herself up...so that her ass is no longer flush with the couch cushion...so that he must tilt his head back to keep the kiss...so that the spicy beer trickles along with the kisses - kisses that always seem to be gathering in her mouth for him these days - into his.

Luke's hands come up to cup her face as he claims the kiss more deeply - thumbs caressing cheeks - fingers sliding over her ears to tangle in her hair - mindful of the straight dangly silver earrings - bumping up against the undersides of the arms of her glasses…

She thinks:

See? They will be askew. I knew it.

And:

This kiss...is...actually making my face...my breasts...my...my… eveything… tingle ache..toward him….how? So fast...

And:

Oh! My! Oh! My! oh. oh. oh...

He thinks:

The music can wait…

And:

So fucking uhhhhhhh.

And:

More. More. More. Please.

...

Penelope breaks the kiss.

Luke blinks at her…

Trying to figure out what just happened...

One second he was…

Now he is not…

Penelope laughs quietly.

"You really are adorable when befuddled, Newbie. We should listen to the album. If that beer is the best pairing to the music - I think ah waiting might make the ah experience even ah better?"

Luke's befuddlement drains away at her words and is replaced by a cheeky gleam in his eyes. His trademark crooked cocky grin tweaks at his lips. He leans in towards her - breathing in her perfume - and raises his eyebrows in a playful quirk.

"Which experience would that be, Sweetheart?"

Penelope turns pink all over - only the foundation and powder hides the flood of her tip to tail blush that came out of nowhere.

She turns abruptly away - rubbing her hands settlingly over her thighs.

"Shut-up-shut-up-shut-up! Just because you..."

Penelope cuts herself off and takes a steadying breath.

"I just want to listen to the album, ok?"

Luke strokes a flat firm hand up her spine - up the back of her cabernet dress and slipping up under her black cardigan - rubbing across her shoulder blades in a comforting motion.

Penelope flexes into his touch like a cat being stroked. Stretching her neck from side to side….

Luke closes his eyes almost in pain....

She is so close and so kissable...but she is also right… he knows this album and how many times has he listened to it in the last month wishing he could share it or one of his many other favourites with her?

They may be able listen to music together later when they are just friends - but not this album - never this album.

He wouldn't be able to bear it.

So it's almost now or never.

"Ok. Here, you sit at that end and put your pretty feet in my lap. There. Now here's your beer. Comfy? Ok. I'll see you on the other side ok - it's about a forty minute album? Tell me if you need anything. Geez...I hope you enjoy this."

"I know I will."

Her eyes are filled with liquid love.

He wants to...needs to...no.

He sits back - beer in the hand furthest away from her - uses remote in the other to start the album - then sets it down in easy reach and rests his now empty hand on her ankle - taking a deep pull of hid beer then leaning his head back, closing his eyes, and letting the music wash over him.

Penelope says nothing but raises her eyebrows when the first few notes are clearly being made by a banjo.

A banjo?

She doesn't really think of Luke as a banjo person...let alone..a banjo which is quickly joined by an accordion person…

...but then when the drums..and maybe guitar...piano? It makes sense.

Oh...and then voices.

Oh gosh. The voices.

The song pulls her along into a world of a traveling band…

Then this woman starts doing spoken word over the pulsing pushing crashing of the melody and Penelope is truly ensnared.

**Maybe the road has made me a different kind of woman...gone more wolf cheeked...from watching the dark...raise the sheets to peak...carnival tents in one night stands...**

Penelope holds her breath.

Then, when the woman stops her bit, she takes first a deep gulp of air and then a gulp of her drink.

Falling back into the music...the layering...biting her lip at the next round of spoken word - this time the voice of the woman is joined by a man - clacking through the poetry like trains on a track - another man wailing his heart empty in the background.

The song ends abruptly.

Penelope looks over at Luke - but his eyes are still closed - his features holding an almost unearthly intensity…

...and then the next song starts…

...a new world opens up as her ears strain for the sounds of whispered beatboxing and then the insouciant broken gruff tones of the male poet laying down words about democracy and hard news and celebrity gossip...piano chords deliberately punctuating...promising that a song will resolve itself out of the mist of this introduction…

...then almost silence until the guitar picks up the melody…

...and the woman...her voice a bit like Emily's deep and expressive and a little husky...enters with another part of the poem…

**A journalist is simply someone who has a good memory - hoping that everyone else does not - I've heard the same thing said of storytellers. CSN? I can't remember**

...and then the music and the singers crash in…

...the voice of the man who sounds like an angel yearning to return to heaven sings over everything - calling...calling for redemption...

The wall of sound and ideas envelopes Penelope.

She takes another sip of her drink - holding the liquid again in her mouth to savour - and then leans back and lets the music wash over her as all it builds and builds…

...unbeknownst to her…

...her foot on Luke's lap starts to tap to the rhythm…

...also unbeknownst to her…

… Luke relaxes and washes down a growing smile with another long swallow of beer...his Adam's apple bobbing...his soul flying with the singers….

When the next song starts - this one opens like a much more conventional folk song - he opens his eyes and watches Penelope intently...the lyrics opening this track are sung...barely...but definitely sung not spoken.

There is something particular that has always moved him in this next song but he can't quite put his finger on it.

**Tonight we take the Highway Three - where the deer duck headlights - through the trees - under Crow's Nest Pass - under the town of Frank - where the landslide came and the city sank**

It is about travelling again - two lovers in the front seat - and the brother of the driver - feet resting on top of his guitar - asleep in the back.

Luke was compelled to look up the 1903 Frank Slide after the first time he heard this song - and it is now one more item on the list of things that haunts him.

The lyrics offer the unexpected tragedy as proof to seize the day - seize love when it is available - the urgency is heightened further with descriptions of crosses - left at the roadside to remember those who have been loves but died in cars on the highway - like Penelope's parents... he remembers too late…

Luke watches as Penelope's face tenses and a single tear forces its way from under the corner of one eyelid...rolling agonizingly slowly down her cheek...her jaw set...he reaches out and takes her hand...she does not open her eyes but clings to him.

She is not angry or hurt that she has been taken here - to her mind, the reminder of past pain and sorrow is perhaps not a light price for all that this song is but worth it - it builds deliciously - the sacred attraction between the lovers - intense - baudy - required - until the lovers, with savage defiance of the tragedy that haunts all of us, join their bodies in the darkness of a mountain motel.

Penelope tries to communicate all this through their clasped hands.

The next song is another shift - a heavy drum beat inspired by indigenous rhythms the vocals are the wail of the blues - covered by rapid fire desperate pleading rebellious spoken word.

A new type of sacred.

A crashing prayer.

Almost too much.

Like the begging before someone hits their climax…

...begging...beseeching...until finally the song hits it.

Hits it.

Hits it.

Hits it.

Luke closes his eyes again after another long swallow of beer - he's gritting his teeth.

He's heard this album so many times but it's like it's the first again - he is with Penelope not knowing what is next.

Not knowing how much more he can take...

That is when the tuning dissonance of the next song starts it is a single bright sharp tripwire of sound - but then, almost as one, Luke and Penelope's faces go slack with a shared smile when they are caught by the relief of melody.

The male poet is soft and serious...but safe.

There is melancholy in this song...but also resistance, bravery, beauty, and hope...

It is a bit like the story of the BAU - of their own lives…of warriors for justice and truth and safety….

**We are looking for the dreamers who can sing this fucking loud!**

It is a call to action. To bravery. To humanity.

By the end...both Luke and Penelope are sitting a little taller...feeling a little prouder...they...they are the dreamers who can sing that fucking loud.

And fucking proud of it….

Penelope is now ready to move her head sensually to the next song when it demands it of her- a secret curves her lips as the musicians unfurl into a lazy love song.

As Luke realizes what track they've found themselves on - he sets his pint glass silently on the table - shifting her feet off his lap - so he can slip to kneel on the floor beside Penelope - silently taking her beer and putting the sweating glass on the table beside his - he rests his cheek on her belly - looking up over her breasts into her face which she has tilted to see him better - one hand slips to his bicep - the other tangles in his hair.

Luke can't help but sing-speak along with the first verse of this song he has learned by heart...his eyes all smiles...

**Wake up slow and turn on my side run my finger down your freckled spine - stand there yelling the night went slow - the cat is scratching at the bedroom door - your roommate's gone and I've lost my clothes - I hitchhike to your mouth from your elbow - a French Tattoo in the mind of an English Boy.**

Penelope joins in with him for the chorus once she picks it up...

**...and you call and you stay and you fill me up and you blow me away…**

But then when the song shifts again and like an oath Luke speaks the poem he has learned by heart:

**I grew up amid stained glass - I gave grace for my daily bread - so I'm a man who is accustomed to worship - and I want to worship you now - to kneel before your body and rave into your flesh the repentant oaths of wicked men who aspire to rapture - I shed tears that would make garlands against your skin - I would grant you a kiss fit for a king's ring - so I move into your house - and I eat out of your pantry and every night I smell your hair and I listen to the street.**

He kisses the tips of her fingers - the inside of her wrist - Penelope can't see it or feel it but Luke is hard...he always gets hard to this part of the CD...thinking of her...

Penelope pulls him to kneel taller and they kiss.

It is like the one last night and the one this morning - they keep it a light promise - a thank you...there is music yet and neither wants to miss a note or a lyric…

...so Luke slips back to his spot...handing Penelope her beer and taking his. Her feet swing back to rest in his lap… he spreads his legs and leans forward… letting her foot rest on his knee…

As the next piece opens they are transported again - this time into a smoky bar watching a lounge act seduce them from the stage.

The song is slinky and sexy…Penelope is cupping her glass in both hands - eyes drifted shut again - officially dancing in place - with deep shoulder action.

Luke usually just sits and listens to music.

Has a beer.

Sometimes works out.

Or reads.

Occasionally…

ok.. reasonably often…

ok… always to this album…

...he'll...jerk off…while listening...

He kinda didn't think about that before putting this plan together...maybe he should have.

He shifts hoping that it's not too obvious that he's hard.

He doesn't want to interrupt things...

But he never dances.

As the song progresses he gets the feeling that might be about to change.

Penelope finally officially feels too restricted by sitting and stands - dancing by herself - eyes half closed - spinning - stretching - flicking her wrists - all sass and sinew - it's totally her own style - a mix of what feels good and modern and ballet inspired moves - sometimes riffing on the quick base rhythm that flows through the piece - sometimes floating on the long notes held by singers - sometimes losing her balance or step but rolling it into the next move - she holds poses when the music stretches to a point and then falls back into the swaying dance.

Luke can't look away. He's been with Penelope for a while now so he's seen a lot of sexy...but this…this… might top them all...

Penelope dances completely without artifice or self-consciousness. She is dancing for herself not for him.

But that changes when the end of the song culminates into the company chanting over and over that:

**....of the desert and the …. of the sea then she shoots down all the satellites and strips just for me**

Penelope playfully looks at him and joyfully teasingly slowly takes off her cardigan for him - offering her hand for a courtier kiss - but Luke flips her hand over and presses a kiss to her palm instead of the back - then nuzzles his cheek against her lifeline until she pulls away to continue her show - smirking delightedly - enjoying his overt admiration.

The next song slams into being. The band shouting defiance as they proclaim their wants. Proposing cheekily that The Police live in their basement to "save on gasoline".

Penelope cackles.

Luke is no longer permitted to sit and observe.

He is pulled onto the "dance floor" and they mosh and bounce to the fast parts - laughing - then they seperate and do interpretive dance to the slower bits - not ever getting super close - at the end they shout the demands at each other as loud as they can - their hands in fists - then high-fiving and shaking it out at the break.

For the next though - all is dreamy and poetic - so Luke pulls Penelope in for what his folks would have called a "proper dance" leading her around the room in a slow improvised latin inspired step that works perfectly with the sultry spicy baseline of the song.

Penelope can't seem to look at his face - so she fixes her gaze over his shoulder - smiling into the distance as the woman poet spins her web of words and the dancing weaves a different type of net.

Luke can't seem to not look at her face - the curve of her cheek - her eyelashes hidden behind the frames of her glasses - the adorable tip of her nose - her now slightly kissed off red lips - her blond bangs and long soft curls framing her face.

They dance like that for the whole two minute song - Luke leading his woman around the living room - she feels safe and cared for - they collide with nothing - not a foot stepped on or a shin barked - not a spin toppled or out of control.

At the end - Luke captures the hand that has been on his leading shoulder and keeps hold of the other - bringing both together between them - raising first one - then the other to his lips - this time properly kissing the backs.

Penelope has made eye contact now - and he never breaks it - just looks up at her over the backs of his hands - one of his favourites is coming next - it's the second to last song - a show piece and he is so excited to show it off to her - this round she's the one in for the show…

As the music starts up again - an insistent intense rhythm laced with the tension of a thunderstorm rolling in - he straightens - not letting go of her hands - holding her planted in place - big dreamboat eyes looking up trustingly into his - he settles his expression into a darkly serious face.

Theatrically - loosened up by the beer and the dancing and her - Luke slips into full scale lipsyncing mode - still serious but emoting to the max - making Penelope's face break into pure shock then wonder then delight:

**Noooow I pull out five dollars and I put it on the counter and ask "Has the band started yet?"**

**She smiles and says "Yes they haaaave but there is no need to worry because they've been waiting for youuuu"**

**And nooooow I am standing at the barrrr - fixing myself a drink - as Brother Jason makes love to a microphone.**

**The Eastside Army's standing on the stage now - killing silence and teaching all the kids how to footstomp - bootshake - love what you do now - building castles with a microphone!**

For the instrumental break - Luke pushes Pen back onto the couch and then dances for her - his best impression country step dancing mixed with clowning. Anything he can think of to make Penelope laugh - he does - and laugh she does..

As the voices come back - Luke takes up the character of a grand showman - a magician -picking up his lip syncing act with a flourish of hand gestures!

**Dance hall - beer brawl - cabaret - communion.**

**We're an army of magicians!**

**Do you see these hands?**

**Average everyday ordinary haannnnds?**

The song is fast and showy - a modern tongue twister - and Luke is on top of every word - every image.

And Penelope is eating it up…

She leaps into a standing ovation when he bows with the last crescendo doffing his imaginary top hat.

He pulls her in for a real thorough kiss….until...

The last song is slower - so when the kiss ends they settle into a highschool-esque slow dance - circling - swaying - his hands at her waist - Penelope's wrists loosely resting on his shoulders - her glasses off - held loosely in one hand - neither is really worrying about being in time.

As the song - and album - draws to a close - Luke pulls Penelope closer - breaths in against her neck.

**I have you**

Luke kisses the skin at the edge of her collar.

**I have you**

Luke kisses her neck - lingering.

**I have you**

He kisses from just by her ear - across her cheek - down to her lips - oh curses - her lips - her lips...

He kisses and whispers "I have you. I have you."

He kisses and finds the zipper of her dress - slowly running it down her back - the fingers of the other hand slipping in and under the fabric of the open dress...

"I have you."

Now, Penelope takes her turn. She lets the eyeglasses she's holding slip from her fingers - not caring what happens as they hit the carpet.

"I have you."

She runs her hands down his chest - over his black long sleeved shirt.

"I have you."

She tilts up nibbling kisses from the corner of his mouth - across his beard - then trailing back down - pressing a kiss to the skin just above edge of his round ribbed collar - whispering against the heat of his skin:

"I have you."

The music is done all is silence except their words - their breath - the echoes of the music in their brain.

"I have you. I have you."

Luke slides off the quarter-length sleeves of her dress - kissing the skin he reveals - one arm - then the next - her bodice pooling around her waist.

"I have you. I have you."

Penelope has reached the hem of his shirt and starts pulling it off. He steps back - and tugs the shirt over his head - tossing it to the side.

"I have you. I have you."

Penelope steps forward and lets her palms retrace their earlier journey - sliding up over his belly - over his chest - to the crest of his shoulders. Yes, he is gorgeous by most standards - but other beautifully sculpted bodies have left her cold or unaffected or worse - afraid. But he is beautiful because he is Luke.

"I have you. I have you."

She knows that touching him would always be this special - whether he was hurt, or grew fat, or old and wrinkly and saggy and gray. She presses a kiss over his heart.

"I have you. I have you."

Penelope reaches for the fastenings of his pants - undoing them and pushing them and his underwear carefully down until Luke steps free. She presses a kiss high on his hip.

"I have you. I have you."

Luke pulls her up into a hug - swaying with her - loving her hands roaming across his back - burying his face in the sweet spot of her neck.

"I have you. I have you."

Luke's clever fingers slide around to the front and with silent thanks to whoever invented bras that clasp in the front - he undoes the magic fastener - letting her breasts hang free and heavy - pushing the straps down her arms - tossing the fabric construction on top of his shirt - sliding to his to his knees - pressing kisses to her breasts - her belly - looking up at her as he pushes the dress over her hips so that it pools on the floor around her feet - her hands resting on his shoulders.

"I have you. I have you."

He slides her panties down down down her legs until they have joined the dress.

"As a man who is accustomed to worship…"

But she does not want to be worshiped.

Nor does she want to worship him.

She wants to worship with him.

So Penelope lowers herself to her knees to face him.

She takes his face in her hands.

He mirrors her.

They come together and kiss.

And kiss.

And kiss.

And kiss.

Each kiss is a prayer. A revelation.

They kiss.

And kiss.

And kiss.

And kiss.

Both a question and an answer.

And yet they kiss…

And kiss.

And kiss.

And kiss.

The kisses that have been gathering - pooling - like sacred offerings in their mouths - flow from one to the other - tumbling into the depths of their bellies - gathering into pools of ache and want and connection.

And still they kiss…

And kiss.

And kiss.

And kiss.

The tension is buzzing now along the edges of their jaws and into their scalps...the ache in her quim feels like the yearning voice of the man who fell from heaven sounded...his cock is as rough and desperate as the poet…

Everything inside of them is swelling and building and being and….

So they kiss…

They kiss.

They kiss and kiss.

They kiss and kiss and kiss.

They kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss.

They kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss.

The music was and is their words. Their hands. Their stories. Their wishes. Their hearts.

So they kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss.

Their cheeks suffuse with heat. Their knees hurt from kneeling. Their breaths are short pulls through their noses….

But they kiss.

And they kiss.

They kiss.

They kiss.

They kiss.

One kiss ends midway into the next. The next kiss started two kisses ago. They layer kisses. They are kisses.

They kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss

They kiss and kiss and kiss

They kiss and kiss

They kiss

Kiss

Kiss

Kiss

Kiss

She lies on her back on the rough beige carpet.

Kiss

Kiss

Kiss

He lies flush on top of her

They kiss

They kiss

He is inside her.

They kiss

They kiss

They kiss

Every inch of them quivers.

They kiss

They kiss

They kiss

Kiss

Kiss

Ah

Kiss

Kiss

Ah

Ah

Kiss

Ah

Kiss

Ah

Kiss

Ah-Ah-Ah-Ahhhh

He thrusts and kisses and she meets him and kisses.

They need more.

The kisses become more.

Thrust

Fuck

Kiss

Ah!

Thrust

Fuck

Kiss

Kiss

Kiss

Ah - Ah - Ahhhh

But the kiss! The kiss! The kiss! The kiss!

And he cums and she cums and still...still...still…

They kiss.

They kiss.

They kiss.

"I have you."

"I have you."