Seamless.

Eric Sawyer was in his room a warm, summer night one Saturday, on his bed, with Lord of the Flies propped open before him as he read from it contently, pausing from time to time to push his reading glasses back up the bridge of his nose before the fell from the tip. The window was open so he could enjoy the light wind currents breeze through the bedroom as a mist of rainfall loftily fell outside. The house was still and peaceably silent. For once in several-odd weeks, Eric had the entire three-story home to himself for the evening, and the next morning, as his parents and younger brother were out on a family reunion affair, of which he had managed to swiftly avoid, claiming that he "felt under the weather." Eric couldn't remember the last time the suburban house was so tranquil.

His mind was beginning to drift as he tried to complete the current chapter that he was reading; he'd started the novel in the afternoon and was nearly halfway through. He was trying to focus and get it through, but the thoughts that continued to invade his mind were far more appealing. Finally, after a few more pages, he laid the book faced-down and open, and put it aside. He laid on his back, tucking his arms behind his head, and let the thoughts swarm him entirely, enjoying the warm sensation they gave to his heart.

The sound of a pebble hitting the windowpane of the presently closed window disturbed his musings. As he approached his window, dressed in only a shirt and boxers, a small smile came to his face. He pushed the window up and leaned over the windowsill.

A dark-haired girl with sienna-brown eyes and a fleeting smile looked up at him from below. She was surrounded by a sea of marshy, green grass, dark and glistening in the failing light.

Sara.

He called out her name. "It seems that we have our positions switched, Juliet."

"But soft!" she recited, "What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!" he chuckle softly to himself.

"Hold on; I'll be down in a minute." And with that, he left the window.

In record time, Eric was out of his room and down the stairs, two steps at time. His bare feet slapped against the hardwood floors and echoed in the noiseless abode. He ran down the steps into the basement, and from there he entered the garage and reached up to click the button that electronically opened the garage door. Before it was even up all of the way, he ducked underneath and jogged over to the side of the house where Sara was waiting in the drizzling rain. He collided with her, and they embraced with a curiously strong passion. Tonight would be the night that Eric's fanciful daydreams materialized; and Sara's too. They stood there together, unbelieving and aspiring.

"Come on," he said finally, whispering softly into her ear as the rain continued to pelt down, "Let's head inside."

Silent and grinning, the couple went through the garage door and back up the basement stairs, Sara holding his hand and swinging it ever so gently. The walk back up to Eric's room seemed to take an insufferably long time. With an unexpected flourish and a kiss to her forehead, Eric literally swept her off of her feet and carried her bridal-style up the stairway to his bedroom. She weighed next to nothing, and her delighted, giggling expression put a smile to his face. Maneuvering through the door that was still ajar, he carried her to his bed and affectionately laid her down. He moved to shut the door behind them, and Sara closed the window, pulling the sheers and drapes together.

Eric sat down beside her on the bed. Now, with nearly everything ready, the two faced each other. Insurmountable love poured forth from their eyes so plainly, it spread warmly through their bodies as if it were a bit of liquor. Eric leaned close and lightly caressed her cheek with his forefinger. "Why is my sweetheart so wet?" he teased. It was true; Sara was damp from head to toe, he suspected from being in the rain too long. She didn't answer, and instead wordlessly snuggled into his arms. He gently tugged her onto her lap. She tilted her head to rest on his shoulder, and he stroked her hair. Eric liked the way Sara smelled; fresh and sweet like primroses, or clear spring air.

Finally, she said, "I was running through Balton Park earlier." She hesitated. "My step-dad and I... we had another falling-out." She looked up at him as she felt his fingers stop in mid-motion, and saw a firmness set in his jaw. "-My entire family, actually. He's irked me to my last nerve." Eric heard her mumble profanities under her breath. Returning his troubled gaze, she softly added, "I'm fine, though. I ran out of the house, and cut through the park. The first person I thought to come to was you." She shrugged helplessly.

The concern was still evident in his charcoal eyes. "I'm sorry," his voice was close to inaudible and his tone suggested how much the news bothered him. Sara was the last person, he thought, who deserved that kind of thing.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pecked his cheek. "Don't be," she quietly said. The air was thick with silence. Sighing, Sara turned to face him directly, lifting his chin slightly with the side of her thumb. "Hey, it happens. Families fight, stepfathers are dicks, kids get angsty, kids run away. It's all part of this glorious American Dream of ours." There was an amused, sarcastic tip to her voice that made the shadow of a smile appear on Eric's face. She squeezed him tight and whispered, "Don't let what I've said ruin tonight. I want tonight to be perfect. Don't let my family fuck that up for me, too.

"Just forget...." The press of her lips against his was both chilling and made a tingly feeling spread across his abdomen.

Just forget... The words lingered in the air long after she'd uttered them.

Finally, Eric gave in, despite his apprehension of Sara's family. He pulled her close once more. "Do you know," he murmured, kissing her neck, the result a shiver of anticipation running down her spine. "Do you know how long I've waited for this?"

"...How long?" The tension was beginning to eat at her.

"Since the day I met you." The words created massive butterflies in her stomach. He kissed her forehead, then her nose, softly and sweetly.

"That's quite a long time, Mr. Sawyer." A dazed amusement was apparent in her voice. He reached her mouth, deciding to stop there, and they engaged into a long, tender, kiss. His hand braced against the side of her neck for support.

"I-" he was momentarily interrupted by a short kiss Sara planted on his lips. "I love you, Sara Marshall." His voice was soft and loving. Though he'd said it a million times before, it seemed to hold a special difference from all of the other occasions.

She blinked back tears, and a small smile pursed her lips. She didn't need to say anything; everything she could have possibly voiced was expressed in the amorous, tender look in her eyes. She kissed him again, though this time it was a touch less affectionate, and much more intimate and lustful. Eric fell back onto the bed with Sara on top of him. His hands ruffled her long, dark hair and stroked her back.

Finally, it's our time, now.

Sitting up once more, Eric helped her out of her fleece jacket, dropping it to the floor. He pulled off the cotton big tee shirt he slept in and his boxers- he wasn't wearing much to begin with- and then proceeded to watch his lover undress. She took a fleeting glance over his lean body that was taunt and poised like a wildcat's. His reading glasses were discarded, and his moussed, brown hair was slightly messy from the brief encounter, and the result made her heart skip a couple of beats. Sara's fingers paused at the buttons on her blouse.

A sudden shyness swept over her, and Eric knew why; there were probably several welts and bruises from when her stepfather would beat her. Some cuts were already exposed on her arms, and- Eric shuddered- cigarette burns were on her wrists. Her stepfather was an aggressive, abusive, incestuous bastard who hurt his stepdaughter, stepson, and wife more than any man should- more than any human being should. Repressing the familiar anger teeming inside of him, Eric said to her gently, "It's okay." Sara nodded slowly, and with his assistance, the buttons fell away, exposing her torso. It was hard for them both to see all of the scars and bruises- some fresh, some old- that had been inflicted by her old man. "It's okay, Sara," he repeated, and lying onto his back, he hugged her to his naked chest.

Sighing one last time, Sara told herself to release the pain for the sake of both of them. "I love you, Eric Sawyer," she whispered secretively. "I love the way you laugh, the way you smile at me, your dry sense of humor, your love, sensibility, intelligence, your voice- Gah, I could go on forever!"

"Please do," he smirked, nuzzling his nose in her hair, "I like the way my ego expands with each word."

She giggled, the sound a relief after the tense moment. "I love how you're always there, how much of a mentor you've been to me, yet at the same time my lover. -And," she said with a cute little smirk of her own, "You've got a pretty smokin' body, to add." She looked over him again, taking her time, his agitation her entertainment, her gaze like infrared energy over each part of him that she studied, a burning sensation blazing through him and a blush spreading across his face.

"Take a picture; it'll last longer."

Sara grinned, her hand freely roaming his abdomen, and she watched his priceless reaction. "Oh, you know me, babe. I like to live in the moment." Eric smiled. The lust was nearly gone, but the love was resilient and was like a forever burning flame between them.

Eric's arms reached behind her back for the bra clasp. After fumbling with it for a couple of moments, she reached behind her back and unclipped the bra herself with a taunting grin. "You should really work on that."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it- but for now, Miss Marshall, can you please focus on the matter at hand? I'm trying to make freaking passionate love to you, over here!" he joked in an exasperated tone. Sara smiled without another word. She rested her elbows on either side of him, her entire torso exposed to him, including all of the cuts and bruises- but it didn't matter. Nothing truly mattered that night except for the two of them, and the beautiful, beautiful result of their love.

Eric coaxed her denim jeans off with as much care as possible; he never realized, up until then, how insecure Sara was with her scars. Her legs were pale from lack of exposure- because of the damned scars that covered them- but they were soft and shapely. He could feel Sara's pulse speed up from his touch, the way his hands traveled thoroughly up and down her thighs, and her eyes fluttered closed as she felt him slowly pull away her underwear. Eric's gaze passed over her now fully exposed body.

Underneath the scars and pale complexion, Sara Marshall was beautiful.

Feeling all of the heated love and romance direct itself all to one place, Eric pulled his lover close and he placed her beneath him, her sienna eyes opening in surprise. She reached a hand out and stroked his jaw line. Eric pulled her into a kiss, the most passionate by far, but at the same time it seemed innocent and sentimental. Her lips were meant for him; his lips were meant for her; God, without a doubt made Eric Sawyer and Sara Marshall for one another, and only for one another. Both felt this in their heart of hearts, their deepest of chambers.

The slightest moan escaped her, frail but arousing. As she felt him lean his head towards her neck, a damp sensation stirred her. His tongue, inch by inch, trailed down her neck (he found, with a grimace, that it was covered in welts) and across her collarbone. She was gasping out already; her breathing was raged. Eric continued in this manner until he had nearly reached her waist. By then she couldn't even see straight. Oh, the places he's been- an unhurried stroll around the world. Her moans became more frequent, louder, and more confident. Soon, his voice joined her's. The way she groaned his name made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on ends, as if they were provoked by some negatively-charged balloon.

Eric closed his eyes. Beforehand, in many novels that he'd read, during the sex scenes, the narrator always spoke of an omnipresence of their partner. Until now, the idea puzzled him. Now he felt the meaning of these descriptions; when Eric closed his eyes, Sara was everywhere. Her fresh, rosy scent was all he could smell; her soft, round skin was all he could feel (-that, and the feeling that he was coming fast); Sara in general was all he could taste. As they lay there that summer night, her ubiquity was a phenomenon.

Finally, when things were getting dangerously close, Eric went inside. They found that they fit together seamlessly; two puzzle pieces created to be put together as one. He felt his warmth distribute inside her and mix with her own. The result was unreal for both of them. The feeling was an overpowering, incredible expression that no words could ever wholly perceive, that neither Eric nor Sara tried to describe to each other because they knew it was useless.

But they knew, without a sharing of physical words, that the feeling left them speechless.

That the experience that they shared that humid summer Saturday night, was the result of the purest form of love.

The their lovemaking -that their love in general- was absolutely-

Positively-

Overwhelmingly-

Beautiful.