He gritted his teeth and pulled from the bedrock of his soul, digging a toe into the crack. And the next, and a stretch to the next. At the extremity of his sun-gleaned energy, he found the top. She had already dined on wind and beauty, lying back, now, surfeited.
He leaned over, tipping slightly into the wind, a tenuous bridge to the unknown. At first she considered letting him fall over, a rocky monument to misunderstanding and missed chances. He's so ordinary, so earthbound. But then she saw a roiling spark in his eyes, and knew it wasn't the green earth which claimed him, but molten. Raw power surged latent, but no less for its cool surface.
He claimed her lips as a conqueror's laurels, once more sure of his place, again on the solid ground which nourished him. At first seeking, gentle, sun-touched, the kiss deepened into tribute exchanged, and then launched into exquisite vertigo. He leaped into the azure vault of space--this time casting away his roots like ratlines from a ship--gladly abandoning the known for the maelstrom.