Some say love, it is a river that drowns the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love, it is a hunger, an endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower, and You its only seed.

It's the heart, afraid of breaking, that never learns to dance.
It's the dream, afraid of waking, that never takes a chance.
It's the one who won't be taken, who cannot seem to give.
And the soul, afraid of dyin', that never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely, and the road has been too long,
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong,
Just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snows,
Lies the seed, that with the sun's love, in the spring becomes
The Rose.

-Amanda McBroom

Maximus was alone but for the bartender. It could not have been more perfect had I planned for no one else to be present. He was wearing the clothing I had selected for him. The pants were tailored for his hips and body, loose but tight enough to detail the thick, long thighs, the color chosen to accentuate the color of his hair and the flecks of green in his ocean eyes. Soft white silk encased the hardened farmer's muscles; the body of a warrior trimmed by months of labor in the portals as we worked steadily on our love and a certain special undertaking. I ached to trace the lines of his stomach and be held fast in those heavy arms. I studied his profile as he drained his glass and motioned for the bartender to fill it again; the prominent nose over delicate lips, leading to the cleft of his chin hidden by...A shock of joy traveled up my spine, and looped back into my stomach. Can the gods ever produce any other that inspires me to tremble so? I cannot imagine they ever will. And he is mine. The swell of pride and passion and love that the thought created in me enraptured me as I made my way down the stairs to him.

As he handed Maximus his drink, the man behind the bar glanced to me. Max followed the look and his pleasure was written in the tightening of his jaw and the movement of his throat muscles as he watched me walk toward him across the room. The aqua stare that led me to his side said that he was sure he had never thought me lovelier, and it roamed over my form in the dress I had bought to wear for him. It wandered to my hair, to my bare legs, to the anklet Uma had given me for good luck in lieu of shoes and back to my face where it rested when I took the space between his knees, awaiting his approval.

"Boudicca...I am stunned, my love." The flush spread out over my entire being and centered in the stores of my memory at the declaration of his pleasure. Setting his glass down, he reached for my hands and drew me onto his thigh unsure where to caress me first, how to hold me, or even if he should. I shyly ducked my head at his adoring stare. I focused on the goatee, reaching out to stroke the soft hairs.

"You did it..."

He captured my fingers and kissed the tips. "Do you like it as you thought you would?" he asked against my knuckles.

"More, I think. Thank you." I touched the soft skin of his cheeks where they were no longer covered in beard, overwhelmed with his masculinity and even my own femininity. His hands moved from mine to travel over the rest of my body and hold me to him in the slightest but most powerful of embraces. Total joy. Complete love.

"Stand up, my beloved, so I can look at you," he whispered against my shoulder, kissing the bare flesh there. I did as I was bade. "Turn around." After his inspection was over he pulled me back against his chest, wrapping his arms around my middle and rested his chin on my shoulder. I could feel his reaction to the preparations I had made for him under my bottom.

"They're right," he laughed. "There is little here to speak of. Did you pack my sword?" I thought his sword was fairly well packed, myself.

A giggle made its way up from my belly, pushed out by the butterflies fluttering about unsettled within. "Do you want me to change it?"

"No, I do not.  How do you feel in it?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes," he encouraged.

"Very sensual." Knuckles brushed my cheek tenderly then made a path over my neck, to finally rest at the swell of my breast over my heart as his lips touched to the back of my neck.

"Then that is what matters. I like it very much, but I think I will be even more pleased to see you out of it." Turning, I hugged him to me, not really caring of he smudged the body powder or not. It was going to be anyway by morning.

"You make me feel desirable," I choked over the emotion that closed up my throat.

"You are. My goddess," he breathed into the skin of my chest.

I took his face in my hands and raised it to mine, resting my forehead against his. "Not so beautiful as you, my love. And you are mine," the words tumbled out. We stayed like that for a few moments; twining our fingers together and holding them between us in unspoken intimacy, letting the touch of the other say all that was needed.

"You know," he broke the spell, "if we don't stop now, we won't make it to dinner." He grinned and placed his kiss at the hollow of my throat.

"Yes, I know. And you are going to need your strength." I returned his jest, adding a touch of lasciviousness to it for good measure. I was rewarded with the gathering storm of desire in his eyes.

"Promise me?"

"I promise." A kiss to seal our union, then he set me on my feet and sent me out to join our friends on deck as they began to congregate, while he ordered wine for both of us.

Dinner and the concert following are almost a blur in my memory. What I remember clearly are the twin blue-green flames of my husband's passion burning over me every time he looked my way, and the heat of his thick, strong fingers when he found reasons to touch me both seen and unnoticed by companions at our table. During a particularly lovely number, as the lonely song of Stephen's cello drifted over us, Maximus brought my hand to his lips before pulling me closer to murmur in my ear, "When the next piece begins, come find me. I will be waiting." A feather-light kiss on my nose, then he slipped noiselessly out of the side door behind us. So entranced by Jack and Stephen's serenade were the others that no one paid him any mind but the servers moving efficiently between tables, filling glasses and making sure we were comfortable. I clapped and cheered for the captain and his dear friend along with everyone else, then waited for my cue before I too padded quietly away from the group on bare feet to make my own symphony with Maximus.

It was rude of us I suppose, but I think Jack of all would understand the meaning of that night and how special it was for everyone. I examined faces during dinner, watching them for joy and languid exuberation. Even Hando and Teener were cuddled tight next to me, and Uma and Terry looked positively enamored of one another on the other side of Max.  Across the table, Ann only had ears and eyes for Jack, and maybe the glisten in the corner of one eye was a trick of the light?  But with a little bit of vanity, I must confess that I do not believe any were as happy as Maximus and I that night. New beginnings work a very powerful sorcery.

The moon's light over the dark sea made an irregular path that followed me along the way to our room. The breeze picked up the loose tendrils of my hair where they had fallen from the coif Uma had made of it and blew them across my face, tickling my cheeks with summer freedom. Absentmindedly I traced the rail with my fingers, but my senses were on high alert for the first sign of Maximus' presence. The room was empty when I reached it so I continued my search, tiptoeing slowly along the walkway until it brought me back around to the dining room where the sounds of chamber music still being played floated out to me. For a second I let it wrap around me and stir my heart, as the sounds of drum and bagpipe had in my own time.

The scent of Eternity accompanied by the smell of male that belongs to Maximus alone reached out from somewhere behind me to envelop me in sensation as I followed it to locate its owner. It was a game I recognized quickly. Its intent...to make me track him and chase him until he caught me. I hunted him the boat over, getting just close enough that I could have probably reached out to touch him had I been able to see him, then the essence would move away, leading me elsewhere. In the shadows of the stern, when the scent was strongest, his disembodied voice cut the darkness, but I could not see him.

"You're not even trying, beloved."

"That's not really the point, is it?"

His amused chuckle alerted me to his whereabouts. I stood stock-still, training my ears to locate the various sounds of the night and their origins. Behind me was the dining hall, the cacophony of voices inside raised in various states of laughter or discussion as Jack and Stephen finished their playing. To my right, just behind the triangular wall above where I stood in front of the doors to the room I could hear Maximus' breathing- a sharp intake of breath, the soft sigh as he exhaled. And a sweet fragrance other than his own wafted down to me. A single rose.

"Come out of the dark and stand in the moonlight," he commanded from his vantage point.

"You first," I answered the voice. "I know where you are anyway."

"Very soon, goddess mine. But I want to look at you for the moment." So I did as I was asked, climbing the steps from the door to the back deck, then stood under the luminous spotlight of Mother Moon and her daughters the stars. He had moved further into his hiding spot but continued to caress me with his words and his eyes. I stood tall and proud under my husband's gaze, waiting to grant his next wishes.

"Turn away from me," came the directive. As I obeyed, I smiled to myself. His voice had dropped an octave with arousal. "And take your hair down." Pin by pin I loosed my curls from their prison and shook them down to rest in the hollow between my shoulder blades. His breathing was picking up in intensity. I felt my tongue snake out to wet my lips, parched with my own excitement under his scrutiny. The quiet placement of his feet in his shoes moved up behind me, but he did not touch me. At least not with his hands. His breath stirred my hair and stroked my ear when he ordered me to walk away from him.

Turning to go, I caught his eyes with my own as well as the tempest raging inside the pools of iron sea. The floodgates of my sex opened a bit, and cool wetness seeped to the tops of my thighs as I took the direction that our cabin lay. He followed me down and lost no time sliding the key inside the door. I got a glimpse of the rose in his hand, its burgundy sweet petals stealing my attention in the gloom of the shadows. "Inside," he whispered hoarsely, still not laying a hand on me.

"Maximus..."

He loomed over me in the dimly lit space of our room, and for the first time since supper ended, laid quieting fingers over my lips and shook his head. "Hush. Just let me..." the thought was never finished; it simply died away in the night. It was not important. For a split-second he stood as if unsure of himself and what it was he wanted, or searched for words that did not seem to exist. Reaching out to him, I held his jaw in my palm, lovingly petting the goatee that covered it and slipped the other arm around his neck to draw him into my body. To have and to hold. His own arms gathered me close to the body I crave and we held each other for a time, setting a rhythm with our hearts as we swayed slightly to some tune only we could hear.

He was the first to pull away, grinning sheepishly and clearing his throat with mock disgust. "This is not what I had planned," he berated us both. All I could do was laugh, but I was curious.

"What did you have in mind, husband?"

"Seduction of Venus' handmaiden."

"Oh. Well carry on then. Don't let me stop you." I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not." He took my hand and led me to the full-length mirror hanging on the wall of the bathroom door, setting the rose on a stand nearby.

"For me?" I questioned its existence hopefully.

"Yes. But you can't have it just yet." He stood behind me and wrapped me up tight against him, laying his cheek alongside my own so we could see each other in the looking glass. In the mirror, I watched my hands clasp over his and my head lie against his shoulder and saw him nuzzle my hair as he cradled me in his embrace. I observed the ways we seemed to match up so perfectly; our contrasting skin tone- his bronzed from bloodline and sun; mine pale from my own race and inability to withstand the kiss of the rays of light. Sable locks against fiery curls, thick muscles matched up to a slighter form. Blue-green eyes stared into gray as we locked gazes.

"Look at us together," he breathed. I nodded, overwhelmed with my own impression of how in love the people in the mirror looking back at us seemed to be. How they fit. Seamlessly. As though truly they were one flesh with no indication that one began or the other ended, but instead wore the same skin. The gods had designed them for each other only. But it was not just the image that locked solidly in place. It was the souls behind it that complemented each other that truly set them apart. Lyric to instrument, poem to pen. He smiled at me in the glass, tightening his arms about me. I returned it, closing my eyes against the swell of passion that crashed upon my heart, flooding it and threatening to burst it.

"Boudicca, watch. See what I see when I look at you." My bottom lip found its way between my teeth when I gave wordless agreement. I was lost in the heavy silk of his voice as he spoke to me. He kept me fast against the breadth of his chest, fingers tracing tender circles over my stomach while the other gathered my hair and pulled it to the side to expose my neck to his tongue and lips. He trailed warm, moist paths over my throat, bending me back to reach the sensitive spots at my shoulder and the hollow where my collarbone meet. Tingling spread to my extremities and I sagged against his grip, weightless and alive with anticipation. A filmy haze clouded my vision while I tried to keep it trained on what he was doing in the mirror.

Through half-closed eyes, I watched his free hand trace the scar over my right breast where it showed above the scooped neck of my dress then dip to the space between, to stroke the tender flesh there. From my stomach the other traveled down to the side of the sheath that left little to the imagination, where only the clasps existed, showing the evidence of naked skin that received the blessing of his fingertips tickling my ribcage. A shockwave of need upset my balance, sending me stumbling back against the wall of his body. I wet my lips when I felt his erection against my buttocks, pulsing and reaching to touch me through our clothing.

At my push back to give it teasing relief he groaned in ecstasy but muttered a plea for me wait, to let him play this game of show-and-tell. His fingers snapped the bindings of the dress, opening me to be fondled under the loosened fabric.

"You've been studying how to open them all night, haven't you?"

"I didn't want to waste the rest of it trying to get them undone," he breathed into my spine. "I love it," he murmured. "It makes you look wild and soft, all at the same time." He touched me everywhere but where I wanted it most and I whimpered in frustration. His eyes twinkled knowingly over my shoulder and I frowned in desperation, close to tears from want. His cock was making me miserable as it played against my bottom, in rough imitation of what was to come when he too was so far gone he would not be able to do anything more than take his lust out on my aching sex.

But until then, I was at his mercy as he aggravated both of us with such exquisite imagery as displayed in the mirror. The too-short hem of my attire was sliding up my thighs and over the curve of my hips, exposing the telltale sign of my arousal to his gaze. His hands explored there, teasing the line of skin just above when he found that the garment he was so deftly removing was the only thing I wore that evening. Planting a kiss on my shoulder, he stepped back for a better view. "No panties."

"No," I panted when he grazed the sensitive patch of skin inside my thighs.

"For me?

"For myself," I grinned lazily at him, peeking through my lashes to see his interest and desire glazing his sight. "I feel sexy without them." His only reply to that was the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth before he continued to caress my naked breasts and stomach, fingers gliding around my tightening nipples, causing my juices to flow unimpeded and soak the curls between my legs.

"I'm going to pretend you do it for me, anyway."

"You don't have to pretend. Just tell me you want me to do it."

"I would be quite happy if you never wore them again," he said, letting the husky velvet of his fantasies permeate my brain with images obscene and sweet, in which we gave each other pleasure in myriad ways, thousands of times over. Slowly he pulled the rest of the thing over my head, nibbling and sucking at my shoulders and back when he had them bared and waiting for his ministrations. Then his nose and mouth were in my hair, nuzzling and cuddling through the mass, warming the back of my skull with short heated breaths. Through the looking glass I watched the dance of his mouth and hands over my body, and from within absorbed the excitement of being loved and prepared for the ultimate act of worship. He reached for the rose, raising it to my lips and nose so I could inhale its fragrance and be perfumed in it.

"Look at you," he mouthed on my neck. "Look how beautiful you are to me." He dragged the sweet flower over where his lips had left the imprint of his words, from the backs of my knees to the fullness of my breasts, along my jaw and over my weeping sex, describing each shimmering part he touched and the fascination each held for him. All the while his eyes held mine, and my arm snaked around his neck to hang on to him as each wave of passion that a word or caress caused to rise took me over and left me weak in its wake. "Strong legs, long enough to wrap around me, when I take you in our bed...breasts that nursed my children...muscles hard from work...belly, where you carried our love...eyes that haunt me in my dreams...cunt that sheaths me so perfectly..." he marveled. He dipped the top petals of the rose in the wetness that had gathered in that place, sliding it against the lips where the blood coloring of the flower stained my skin pink. The eroticism of the scene performed before me in the mirror, and the experience of it as I watched, sent every ounce of adrenaline in my system straight to my head. I dropped to my knees, dizzy with expectation and need.

He knelt beside me, cradling me to him and soothing my trembling form with tender fingers and crooned his love. "Please stop," I begged, trying not to weep from the force of being aroused in such a way.

"I'm not done yet, my love," he purred, then lifted my face to his, smiling his joy at having pleasured me so well.

"Let me love you a while, Maximus. I need to touch you."

"Undress me, then. Love me with your mouth..." He took it with his, tasting at the top, then nibbling the bottom, plundering beyond the stalactite wall of my teeth, tagging my tongue and mining for my surrender to his will and whim. I yielded while my fingers began their own exploration of the wonders of his skin and the secrets of his maleness.

I nestled a kiss in the freshly trimmed goatee. It said man to me, a sound my female soul heard and listened for. The patch of chest hair that he left exposed to my wandering mouth and eyes received the same treatment as his face, and button by button, I laid more open to my delighted gaze. Trailing my nails through the thick carpet of fur I would later use as my pillow, I reveled in the hiss of his breath as I touched the place that triggered his balls and cock to come alive with new want. I tugged gently at his nipples with my teeth while I began the descent toward the prize waiting to be released from the prison of his pants and given succor for its patience while he had given me the precious gift of joy in my own beauty and sensuality. Rubbing my cheek in his soft belly hair, I let my touch range over his hard abdomen and the thick back muscles that twitched and coiled under my hands. Shaping the outline of his thighs, I brought my fingers around to fly over the buckle and fastener. He stayed me with a shaking hand and kicked off his shoes and socks. They landed somewhere near my discarded dress while his clothes were open, showing every detail of his torso and wide shoulders, as well as the dip of his waist where it met his pubis.

Reaching inside I fondled his testicles, feeling the weight of them as they rested on my fingertips. Full, heavy, and tight with his need. He sighed and watched me stroke and tease them with my thumb while steadying himself with one hand against the wall. "Beloved..." his strangled warning fell on merciful ears.

"Yes, my lord?" I pulled on the fabric around, letting it fall to the floor, and sat back while he stepped out of them. He shrugged out of the shirt without assistance, dropping it away to allow me to witness the full glory of his naked flesh with its light halo of hair, thick at his stomach, dense and glorious around his cock, growing the length of his calves and thighs. Perfect man. The man the gods had made for me in the image that pleases me most. None of the others in their various versions of this same masculine form quite inflame my attraction like Maximus does. I thank the Creator everyday for giving him to me.

The phallus that causes such tittering among the women of the game rose long and low from the nest of dark curls and stretched out to me in a silent bid to be relieved of its burden of long-contained virility seeking a resting place. "Suck me," he begged, trying to hold back from forcing himself into my mouth when I graced him with the first nibbling kiss to the head, tasting the salty drop of first essence on my tongue. His eyes fluttered closed, and I opened a little further to take him a bit deeper, sliding the foreskin back so that I could kiss and lick at the ridge underneath and draw more of the precious liquid from him in slight tugs. His whimpers of joy spurred me on, and I rewarded his love and desire for me with slow, strong strokes to his cock. Drawing him in as far as I could, I flattened my tongue on the underside of his shaft, the quivering of the muscle there vibrating through to my cunt. It pulsed in time, pleading to be filled with him, envious of my mouth. Releasing him from my grip, I nipped down the underside to his balls and took one after the other inside, rolling them about, letting the scent of man musk assault my senses and take me inside his skin to be wrapped inside his ardor. Glancing up, I saw him staring into the mirror half-seeing and quivering from his attempt not to ejaculate in my mouth. The hand that did not hold him up wound through my hair, tightening spasmodically in the curls while he breathed encouragement and praise to me.

"Boudicca. Beloved, stop." His gaze sought mine and he smiled down to me, honored but still not ready to give up the right to be the seducer in this little play. Taking my face in his hands, he tenderly caressed my lips with his thumbs and shook his head. "My goddess," he sighed, then lifted me to my feet and into his arms. Where he found the strength when I could barely stand straight was a mystery to me. I snuggled into his neck until he laid me across the bed and took his position over me.

Taking himself in hand, he tickled my nub and slit with the head, bathing it in my wetness and angled at my opening. "Say it for me," he requested the words from me that would invite him inside and give him license to complete us both, driving us over the edge of the chasm between spouse and lover. "I need your voice. Tell me." The command was more urgent as I started to rock against the invading member, giving it leeway to enter and fill me and take me prisoner to his lust and love.

"Fuck me."

I think he was already beyond the point of being able to carefully settle inside my walls. There was no time to adjust to his girth and length before I felt the first press of cockhead against womb and the primitive rhythm of the mating ritual began. At my mewling compliance to his wish, he rose over me in triumph, dancing in and out of me, guiding my legs around his back where they seemed to wrap of their own accord around him. They held him inside me while his haunches pumped stroke after stroke of enchanting passion into me, infusing me with his pride and adoration, the final whisper of assurance that I am truly his goddess, the alpha and the omega, the one he chooses though he might love others. His woman. 

There was no need for words when he was able to fall away and gather me against him in the low light of the single lamp. I pillowed my head on his stomach and listened to his breathing, feeling it under my cheek as it deepened into the strains of sated sleep. I thought about the rose lying on the floor somewhere beyond where I lay with my husband. The universal symbol of soft prettiness and love. If forced to open before its time, it is a useless thing and holds no beauty. If allowed to bloom at its own pace, it is the most precious flower of them all.

I had made a pact with myself while in the portals with him. As I healed both inside and out, I began to take mental inventory of the changes I want to make. I have no illusions that they will be easy, for the old habits are deeply ingrained in my psyche and I wish not to lose some of them. But one of the adjustments I planned was that which plagued me most when I first fell in love with Maximus- my own sense of worthiness to be his mate. After many long talks together deep in the night, as we tried to save our love and renew our bond, I learned those things that he already finds wondrous about me and those he wishes me to learn to possess. No matter what other man I share a bed with; my wish is to be the perfect lover for only Maximus. I am embarking on that particular journey as I write these words. The lovely green dress was merely a small part of that and will be carefully packed away in a box of beautiful memories that I build with him, as will the rose. That magical first night of the cruise, when I presented myself to him in it, was a beginning for me of sorts. It was my time to bloom from the bud of pain and trial, into the rose of love and joy of heart.