A Love Transcending
Diana’s had a crush on her best friend James, a trans man, ever since she met first him a year ago. Recently, he’s been appearing in her dreams, and she’s discovering that her heart is longing for his embrace and his love. Can she gather up the courage to tell him how she feels on a private picnic in the woods? Is he ready to accept the tender love that he’s been hiding from her for so long?
This 4,831-word sweet erotic romance contains sexually explicit scenes, but treats the trans experience with loving respect.
I watched a pair of birds circling each other, and I wondered if it was a mating dance. I leaned back on my elbows, the April sunshine warm and sweet on my face through the glowing leaves above. Far below, a silver snake of river flowed, and if I listened hard, I could almost hear the water. The breeze rustled the leaves, and I felt myself drifting.
“Diana–” I jumped at his voice, and turned around quickly. He stood there, a strange little smile on his face, his eyes shy. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I found these for you – I mean, I want to make you something before we eat.” James held a large bouquet of pink and lilac flowers, which looked like violets, though I wasn’t sure. He gracefully sank into a cross-legged seat on the blanket and began to plait the thin, flexible stems together. As he worked, I fixed our plates.
“What are you making?” The chain of plaited flowers grew, but he only looked at me with that strange little smile. The leaves above gave us a cool, dappled shade, but there was a heat in his eyes that was almost too much for me to hope for. Overwhelmed, I kept my eyes on my hands, toying with a plastic cup of sparkling water that I remembered to sip from occasionally. When I’d gathered the nerve to look again, the rope of violets had become a circlet.
“I’ve always thought that you should wear a crown,” James said softly as he laid it on my hair. The breeze picked up just then, blowing shimmering strands into my face. He brushed them gently aside, fingertips grazing my cheek, the corner of my lips. I opened my mouth to speak, to thank him, to say something, anything, but he looked away and I lost my nerve. My cheeks felt hot, and all I could do was silently hand him a plate. I nibbled a piece of Brie before taking a strawberry and dipping it in whipped cream. I still couldn’t look at him, but I felt his eyes on me as I bit into it, the tartness of its red juice mingling with the sweet, thick cream over my tongue.
“Look at me,” his tenor voice broke the silence. I felt his warm fingers on my chin as he turned my face towards him. I felt a little dizzy as he wiped away a bit of whipped cream from my lower lip with the pad of his thumb, and he seemed to hesitate the tiniest bit before licking his thumb clean. I couldn’t help the little whimper that escaped me – I wanted his tongue on me, his lips on me, his strong arms around me. He studied me then, raising an eyebrow.
“Diana,” he started. My tongue darted out, finding the place where his thumb had been, imagining that I tasted the salt of his skin mixed with the sweet of the cream. His eyes followed the sweep of my tongue, and he closed his eyes briefly. He turned his face away. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to ruin what we have. I— I can’t lose you.”
My hand, almost of its own accord, drifted up and stroked his short, dark hair. The backs of my fingers brushed his cheeks, feeling where he’d just shaved, brushing the sideburns that accented the handsome lines of his face. He leaned into my touch like a cat, and I turned his face back to my own with two gentle fingers. Our eyes met, and I held his face in my hands, his sweet face that had appeared in my dreams night after night.
I opened my mouth to speak, but found that I couldn’t. The look on his face, eager, yet frightened, stabbed my heart, and without warning tears spilled down my cheeks. One dripped off my chin, and I could feel it running down the smooth curve of my right breast. James wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his lap, his lips kissing the wet trails away. My hands snaked around his slim waist and I locked my fingers together behind his back, silently begging him not to let me go. He rained kisses on my cheeks, my eyelids, my jaw, but studiously avoided my mouth. The knowledge made me cry more, that he loved me enough to keep me at arm’s length, all for fear of losing me.
(c) Lula Lisbon 2012. All rights reserved.
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