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Reply to Ender or visit her websitePosted to the RoswellSlash mailing list January 12, 2001
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.
Category: Slash, Liz/Tess
Author's Notes: Liz POV on her relationship with Tess. Plumeria made a challenge on the FF boards about Liz thinking about Tess being distant in public but being a "master of touch" in private. And even though I've never written slash before, the idea just kind of grabbed me.
Feedback: Sure, but only if it's good.
The "Master of Touch" Challenge Series: The Tess/Liz fics "Touch," "Listen," and "The Fifth Sense" were in response to Debbie's challenge on Fanforum to write a Tess/Liz fic from Liz's viewpoint on how Tess is distant in public but a "master of touch" in private. Check 'em out. And if the idea sounds intriguing, write your own version and email it to me at firstname.lastname@example.org
You know, it's funny how your perception of a person can be changed by the smallest thing. Some little thing they say. Some change in the way they look. By a slight touch on the arm that is really just a brushing of her skin against yours but which causes a shiver that ripples through your body like the aftershocks of an earthquake. Or the ripple a stone makes when you throw it into a pond. And you don't realize it then, but that ripple changes something inside of you that can never be changed back.
It's funny because I always thought of Tess as cold and distant. Nothing ever seemed to touch her. The way she'd grab Max and try to hold him and plead with him to love her. But it never felt real. It never really touched her eyes. I thought it was because Max wouldn't look at her. She couldn't really touch him, not deep down inside. She didn't seem to be able to touch anybody without them recoiling in horror.
And then I discovered a secret about her that nobody else knew. Not even Max. Tess can touch and be touched. In fact, Tess is a master of touch.
Now I have a secret. Nobody knows what it is, not even Maria. But Tess knows. Tess knows because she is the secret. Or at least she holds the secret in her hands, soft and small and silken. And in her lips, soft and full and wet. And with her tongue, which laps against my skin like a kitten's and works its way inside me until I scream.
It's in her fingers and the way they slide through my hair, brushing against my scalp, making me want to fall back against her, waiting for her arms to encircle me and for her hands to crawl under my shirt and cup my breasts. It's in the tickle of her breath against the inside of my thighs that somehow makes me giggle and gasp at the same time.
Nobody would ever guess that Tess has the power to touch me in so many ways. She's careful to keep her distance in public. She plays the jealous wife for Max, shooting me looks armed with daggers so nobody knows how she pierces me every night with her fingers, her French tip manicure disappearing into the folds of skin between my legs.
She is careful not to talk to me, not to look at me too long. And I play along, waiting for the moment when I can get her alone. I pretend that I hate her, that I still love Max. And I must be a better actress than I ever thought I could be because everybody seems to believe it.
And they never notice the way she sometimes reaches under the table and brushes her thumb so gently against my thigh that I'm not sure it's actually there, but I shift just slightly to increase the pressure. And nobody notices how I shiver when she lets her hair drift softly across my shoulder.
I watch her play her little games and I wait. I wait until I can get her alone so I can touch her the way nobody else even tries to. So I can feel her warmth and her wetness on my fingers and feel her breath in my ear as she comes.
I am her student. I study her touch like I would study amoeba under the microscope. I follow the trail her curls make as they whisper across my stomach. And I wonder if I will ever master her the way she's mastered me.
Continue to 'Listen'
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