Winter's Kiss Read Free

She read it and then again. She looked up at his smiling face and then
read it a third time. She found herself wishing she could cry, wished she could
react as the words deserved. A blush, a tear, all she could do was smile. There
were no tears in her any more, no blushing. She smiled at him and saw his face
beaming with pride.
    Skin
like virgin snow
    Flesh
chill to intimate touch
    Forever
beauty
    Each
character perfectly formed which she knew was a task for his old, shaky hands
to do. The entire thing beautiful beyond any words she could conjure. She was
surprised at her own reaction to it, she had thought that these feelings had
long since passed from her ages ago. That her ability to be shocked and wooed
had long since died in her but, all of a sudden there it was. His words tearing
back the years to her own mortal youth before she had changed, before she had
died and she was a blushing virgin again, star struck by a man’s words of her.
She grinned and nodded. She pursed her lips and handed the parchment back to
him, her eyes blazing with hunger, passion, new found emotional urgency.
    “Give
me this.” She said and turned away and knelt down before him. “Forever, make it
part of me old man,” she bowed her head slightly and waited.
    He
felt his heart racing, his breath coming in ragged and feverish bursts. He
looked at his own words, his own writing and then at her pale flesh and he
could see it, could see it there in her flesh in his mind. Yes. .  .this. .
.forever.

    By his
hand. . . in her flesh, forever. . .
    He
grabbed at the table and took a knife and tested the blade. It was razor sharp.
He had always kept his blades thus, always ready to be used. Now he was glad of
that, the urgency demanded immediate action. He saw the kanji, each stroke on
her flesh. Reaching out his hand he found himself uncannily steady despite
excitement and age. His hand was sure as he placed the blade and pressed
against her flesh. The feel of the first cut was like deflowering a thousand
virgins, that yielding pop and then the slow sensual pull. Not deep, barely
through the skin but deep enough that blood began to trickle across the snow
white flesh. She moaned and raised her head slightly, the pain exquisite and
pure. As the blade slid through her flesh, that pain awakened her soul. So long
she had felt nothing and now so much, this old man made her feel so much.
    Excited
beyond the ability to articulate it, he was devolving into a much more primal
state. He leaned down and kissed the first cut and then licked his lips. Her
blood, like fire, burned his mouth and throat at first. Then the warmth flowed
through his whole soul and he began to chuckle. Another cut, another mark,
another trickle, another kiss. As he reached his hand to make the third stroke
he could see the age spots fading already, the youthful strength of his hands
returning. Another cut and another kiss, a lick and his flesh burned, his body
began to transform, to grow backwards. Each cut, each kiss and he was younger.
. .his vitality returning through the poetry. He finished the third line and
felt his muscles achingly redefining themselves. Stronger, stronger, stronger,
his body was burning with new life.
    He
felt his face tightening, who he used to be returning over who he  was. He
kissed and licked her flesh, each kiss made her body tremble. He had never felt
her tremble like this before. He began to work faster, cutting then strokes
with more and more confidence. The blood smeared on her, on him. He was making
her the perfect poem. She was to be the words. His forever beauty. His body was
young and tight and powerful again. He panted as he worked, intent on carving
it perfectly into her flesh. This stroke, and then a lick across the flesh. The
soft, alabaster skin so cold to the touch and then the cut, warm, like fire in
contrast. Each kanji a delicate sculpture of her flesh, love carved into her.
    His
mind was racing and he began to laugh as he worked. His body