This has been on my hard drive for more than a year now. Time to get it published. Linda/Near pubescent pairing. If you have a problem with that, feel free to leave. I own nothing. Enjoy.

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He was unresponsive. But curious. She could tell.

His technique was patience. He lacked the initiative to go after his prerogatives, but he was wise in the sense that forbearance, was usually the key when it came to the depths of discovery.

He was also unsure.

His lips were soft, and pale, a hue of pink rising to the surface of his flushed skin as she gently kissed him. The heart beneath his feminine hairless white chest hammered against a fragile ribcage of boyish pubescence. He was nervous. Perhaps a little scared.

But curious.

She was of course impassioned. In her secret stash of paintings, she hoarded many whose subject was him. She had the gift of vivid imagery, her dreams a feverish delight of graphic brightness. But none of that prepared her for the proximity, and sensation, that she would receive from actually being so close to him.

He let loose a shuddering breath, as though he could not remember how to exhale correctly. She pulled away, longing for more contact, but respecting his boundaries, and reactions. This was something new for the both of them, but in a far more serious respect in his case.

He was known as the purely emotionless ghost, the white wraith who only sought comfort and ease in a world of childish artifacts. There were times when even she was certain he had no emotions.

And yet there he was, with her, allowing her to hold him, stroke him, kiss him, showing him the utmost scope of just how tender she could be.

"Near..." Linda whispered, brows pinched in concern. "Are you okay?"

"No." He answered candidly. But there was something in his voice that assured her that she should not stop. He wanted to keep going. Further and further, into that cave, until the light of their trust for each other flickered amidst the continuous darkness.

"I won't hurt you...I promise." She said.

He reached up to twirl a lock of his light gray hair around a slender finger. She stopped him, took his hand, and placed it upon her budding breast, above her heart.

Near said nothing. And did nothing, when she leaned in to kiss him once more. In suppressed excitement, she noticed that he moved against her. A winding tongue emerged from between his lips, and touched her own. They tasted each other, their movements becoming more hastened by each passing moment. He did not remove his hand from her breast. In fact, in a speculative strain of action, he reached with his free hand to caress her other breast. They were small, the flesh diminutive and lacking, but his touch made her feel beautiful, and wanted.

Linda pulled away, only to speak again in breathless tones. "Do you want to see me?"

Near gave no indication of an answer to the untrained eye, but she saw as his eyes glanced down quickly at her clothed chest, then back to her gaze, securing her suspicion. Slowly, as though she believed she should act in remorse or restraint, she removed her shirt. His stare was now unabashed, and ebony eyes with a hint of ice roamed along the slight curves and dips of her skin. She reached behind her, and unhooked her bra. It fell onto the bed, and then the floor. Watching as his expression became unreadable, the urge to hide welled up inside of her, and her gaze fluttered downward. But as she reached to gather her clothes she had shed, Near grabbed her shoulder with surprising strength.

He did not speak at first, he stared at her, his flushed pink mouth parted in half consideration, and half uncertainty.

"Do you know what you are doing, Linda?" He asked quietly, his voice soft and ambivalent.

She could not help but smile at him. "Not really." Came her answer, gentle and sweet, just like her soul.

"If we do this, we can't go back to the way things were." He said, far more to himself than anything.

"So?" She leaned in, to kiss him tenderly on the cheek. "I don't want them to."