The Moon and I

by Ingrid Matthews

It takes a while to get used to. The late-night entrances she can hear even while dreaming of Themyscira, the dip in her bed followed by scattered kisses across her neck, the rock-solid arm tight around her waist. Sometimes he plays with her hair, nuzzling it and breathing in its scent, before she turns in his embrace and lets him torture her exquisitely with his hands, his mouth, his ... Great Hera, her mother would be so ashamed. But that's a moot point, isn't it? She's here, banished to the world of men, but oh, Honored Mother, is he really an ordinary man? Diana doesn't think so. She calls him Kal-El, sometimes Kal for short. It's the name he was given on his long-gone homeworld and he answers to it with unnerving ease. They've both agreed that Superman is for the world at large and Clark? That name is reserved for Lex Luthor, his late partner in life, now dead for little over a year. Lex was very old when he died, eighty, perhaps? His last words were wonderment at the fact he'd enjoyed a natural death, but Diana never envied the manner of his passing. It hurt her to watch someone so vibrant waste away so slowly, to see Kal-El in so much silent pain as he cared for his love night and day ... She'd much rather have a warrior's death if the choice were hers to make. But those decisions aren't hers. They belong to the Goddess and all that exists is the here and now. With Kal-El in her arms, kissing her and calling her Diana. His Diana. This night, the usual tender touches are replaced by biting kisses down her neck and rough hands kneading her breasts. A hot breath in her ear is saying words that would have earned him the sharp end of a sword in her homeland, but such things have different meaning here in the world of men ... In the world of women with men. Sex becomes a battle between them, their strengths matched and Diana can't help but laugh as the bed threatens to give way beneath their arching bodies, creaking almost to the breaking point. He enters her roughly, and oh ... this wasn't how her life was supposed to be, but the sweetness is there beneath the suffering. They hurt each other every time they make love, but it's a welcome hurt, the shared pain humming with life. With love. Diana pulls him closer to her, into her and it's good, better than good, the shock of Aphrodite's gift piercing her body in shivering tendrils of silver and black. She cries out in ecstasy and isn't ashamed, not even when the steel of her bracelets -- her eternal bonds -- bite into her wrists as if to say: "How dare you? How dare you!" She dares. And thinks she might be better for it. But her lover isn't smiling. When they are done, Kal-El rolls over and lays on his back, staring at the ceiling with an expression that's the exact opposite of happiness. "What's wrong?" she asks, already wanting to soothe. To protect. To defend ... all the things that are as natural to her as breathing. Kal-El glances away with a short shrug. "It's nothing really." He considers his words for a moment and suddenly, she's swept up again, her body covered with respectful kisses. "Nothing to do with you, I mean. You're wonderful. I ... " He pauses, hesitating to continue with that particular train of thought. "You're wonderful," he repeats. Diana pushes him back. She's not fond of half-truths. Her lasso attests to that fact. "Tell me what's bothering you." The apologetic sweet-talk disappears. He flops back onto the mattress, weary and sad. "Today was our anniversary." Dully said, and suddenly, she understands. "Of your meeting with Lex?" "Yes." A long silence follows. It's the kind of silence that would destroy a younger woman, but Diana is older than she looks. Old like the moon itself. Silently, she reaches out for his hand, hoping. Loving. He doesn't refuse her, allowing their fingers to entwine. A heartbeat between each warm touch and she dares to rise up, taking his stony, his beautiful face between her hands. It looks ancient and white like the moon, far too pale in the room's dim light. "You're not alone," she says, kissing him -- his forehead, his cheeks and lastly, his lips. "I am with you." Kal-El blinks, dark eyes shining damply. And he smiles, brilliantly. "Thank you, Diana." A deep breath, one that lets out all the unspoken things between them. Between them and the moon. "Thank you, my friend." "You'll have to tell me the story of when you met Lex," she replies. She bends down to kiss his chest, its unmarred flesh a false facade to the battered heart that lies beneath. "I'd like very much to hear it." His laughter is thick, filled with what sounds like tears. "I don't think you'll believe it." "I have my lasso. I can test its truth," she jests. Another kiss shared and he's shifting beneath her, suddenly interested in things besides loss and grief. "I suppose you'll have to tie me up with it," he says, sounding amused at the thought. This idea intrigues her as well. "Is there any doubt?" He laughs again and tonight, she thinks, she'll show him an ancient and understanding heart, so like the moon in all its glory.