DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the following characters and no infringement on any copyrighting is intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

I Know You
By Aurora


Emma knows her by smell; the faint aroma of wildflowers and strawberries. It guides her when her eyes do not see and her fingers do not touch. It’s a smell Emma knows above anything else and it clears her head of everything but her. She smells so good that it makes Emma just want to lean in and steal an endless kiss, a taste or a hesitant touch of her tongue, certain that she has to taste as good as she smells.

Countless times that smell has overpowered her senses, making her trip and stumble in a wonderful haze. Emma has followed it through all of Sanctuary, using her nose to find wherever she is hiding. It is subtle enough to be a delicate fragrance but strong enough to be so compelling it cannot be ignored. And just underneath the smell of wildflowers and strawberries there is a gentle touch of vanilla, and a smell that is so undeniably her. Emma is sure that unique smell is what makes the perfume so alluring; a million other people could wear the essence and only she could make it so incredible.

Emma knows her by taste; an indescribable infatuation that feels like she’s breaking for air beneath a lake every time they kiss. The sudden overload makes her head swim and she gasps for real, the need for air more than a euphemism. There are times when Emma thinks she’s getting closer to discerning the taste which repeatedly draws her in, kiss after kiss. But no sooner do their lips part and all Emma can think of is kissing her again, the taste forgotten and the bitterness of loss upon her lips.

Her skin tastes of rainwater and sunshine. Emma can’t make a close enough comparison to any flavour she knows but when she tastes her, she’s sure it’s like kissing fresh raindrops on a lazy summer morning. It’s refreshing and delicate and completely addictive. Emma doesn’t know if actually kissing the sun would be the same but as far as she is concerned, she is the sun.

She will admit that the taste of her can vary with the place her lips fall; there’s always rain and sunshine but sometimes there’s a light covering of sweat on her shoulders that makes the taste a little different. But it doesn’t matter what she tastes like in the smallest of places, it always comes back to the sunshine and it’s always gorgeous. In the dip of her collarbone Emma has found roses, over her hip something that tastes like a rainbow and without fail, always in the small of her back, Emma can find lust and love. It’s always rainwater and sunshine but sometimes it’s more.

Emma knows her by sight; every last curve and curl radiates a beauty that can be blinding. In a crowd of thousands of gorgeous women, Emma would know her lover by sight and sight alone. She wouldn’t need to hear her voice or touch her skin; her beauty far surpasses that of any other.

For hours Emma has perfected her knowledge of that body by sight. In private moments and others completely public, Emma has stolen glances and long stares which have stored every inch of skin and every lock of hair. The image of her is almost burned on to her retina where it will stay forever. Even when Emma closes her eyes she is never alone because her image is there immediately in vivid detail.

From the toes up there are her long tanned legs, outlined by white linen as she moves through her routines. Her hips are curved and perfect for the shape of a palm to rest against, as well as fingertips that lightly grip. Her stomach is perfect; smooth, firm and flawless. The muscles stretch and contract as she bends and shifts, changing the uniqueness that is her. Emma remembers smoothing her fingers over those broad shoulders and arms, feeling those tapered fingers wrap around her own waist as she leant forward and touched her lips to the hollow of a collarbone.

Her eyes are deep brown, framed by luxurious blonde hair and lightly tanned skin. Emma can almost believe that the answer to the universe is hidden within those depths and she has spent hours searching for it, certain that just a few moments more will reveal everything. But each time Emma only finds more of the beautiful woman she’s in love with.

Emma knows her by touch; skin like satin and hair as fine as silk. Every change in texture and tone has been mapped under Emma’s fingers as she’s glided them over curve and contour. She’s spent hours, days and perhaps years lost in the task of touching her body. It’s a labour of love and one Emma embraces fervently.

Though her hands and fingers have travelled miles over her body, Emma knows that even if she were bound and blindfolded she would know her girl just by playing her lips over her. Her lips are sensitive to even the slightest change in the way she feels and Emma will make sure it stays that way; she’ll take every opportunity to press her lips to that body and commit every sensuous detail to memory, where it will remain forever.

Emma knows her by sound; the calmness to her voice and all the adorable quirks to her speech. When she whispers an intimate promise or private intention, Emma knows the voice instantly. There would be no way to disguise its softness or individuality.

Emma loves to listen to her speak. Even if she simply describes the proper way to use a piece of equipment or how best to flatten an opponent, Emma will hang on every word. She’s sure that no one’s speech can be as impulsive and beautiful as hers; no one else in the world can take the English language and make it their own, the way she does.

It’s nice just to listen to her, to know she is there even though it might not be possible to see her. Even from the depths of sleep and horrific nightmares, Emma can recognise that voice and hold to it like a lifeline. It has been her lifeline more than once; rescuing Emma from a fate she would rather not comprehend. So long as she can hear her voice, Emma knows she will be forever at peace, and always safe.

But even though Emma recognises her love on all these levels and feels her presence right down to the bottom of her soul, there is still room for an extra depth to her awareness. And Emma feels her there too, constantly, wrapped around her very essence so securely that it is impossible to tell where she begins and her lover starts.

Emma knows her by love; her most powerful sense of all.

So with all her senses at hand and an intimacy that has taken years to build, Emma knows when Shalimar is trying to sneak up on her. Like now, she knows that she is casually leant in the doorway, apparently unnoticed. But a brief look in Shalimar’s direction squashes the notion and she comes to the bed, settling herself over Emma’s hips and placing her hands against the plain of Emma’s stomach.

“I know you…” Emma says in a quiet admission, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind Shalimar’s ear.

Shalimar agrees with Emma wholeheartedly; no one in the world will ever know her like Emma does. And ordinarily a power like that would frighten her into hiding but this time has the opposite effect and Shalimar leans forward for a long, slow kiss, burying her fingers in Emma’s red tresses to keep her close.

As their lips part and blue eyes gaze into brown, Emma makes a promise never to forget her.

The End

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