THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING LOVED
Sometimes words really weren't necessary, nor did one require psionics in order to feel the depth of another being's emotion. Neste - for once in her life - had become a spectator, and had the good graces and common sense to allow Septimus the necessary freedom to cope with the things burdening his heart.
It was better to be carried in his arms rather than walk beside him, because the proximity allowed her to plant secret little kisses along his neck when no one was looking. And it was better to sit quietly as he bustled around the kitchen, if only because every movement was spurred by his own thoughtfulness rather than nagging or a sense of obligation. His hands had tortured untold numbers. His eyes had seen the universe's horrors. His lips had undoubtedly passed judgements and sentences on a hundred worlds. Not tonight. Tonight these parts all worked in sweet tandem for her sake. His gift became her salvation, a cleansing balm that seeped into all her ragged, emotional wounds.
But there are moments in life when words fail, and this is when a psionicist is at her best.
Septimus cracked open the dusty treasure box to display the rare gems inside. There weren't many in his long life, but the ones he kept were the ones that he most cherished. Neste felt them tap against her in a gentle rain, each fond memory a priceless gift for a pauper that had spent her life deprived of even the simplest things.
He gave precious gems to her; she offered up her undying love in exchange, and wrapped both minds together to grant each the ability to reciprocate the others raw emotions. Thoughts intertwined with physical intimacy. The soothing shower transformed into a sizzling deluge which neither protested. Dinner sat abandoned on the stove, and they cast their normal bedroom games aside in preference of love's raging tempest.
It wasn't until later, as Septimus' warm weight crushed against her and his primal growls stirred her ears, that inspiration plucked the locked-away depths of Neste's mind. She might succeed and return to him; she might not. She would leave a gift with him on the horrid chance that things went the way of the latter. Neste wrapped him more tightly in her embrace, savoring his toiling muscles beneath her palms, and then pressed her snout against his neck to surreptitiously impart a memory kernel. It would suffice, and would lay dormant unless needed.
Her lips parted to allow teeth to teasingly nibble his earlobe, and then Neste's awareness slipped away again as she rejoined him in their carnal lovemaking. The world outside their front door ceased to exist for either of them.
