Contains sex
AUTUMN BREEZE
by James Kythe Walkswithwind
an exercise in eroticism
(I need practise..)

	He closed the door behind him, hearing the click in the silence; secure,
comforting, the door-without-a-lock standing strong against the world.
For a moment he simply stood there, seeing the room around him, noting
that nothing had been changed since afternoon.  Then he walked forward,
placed his hat carefully on the table, followed it with the acrouments
of his uniform.  He never thought of them as accessories, as irritations
meant to make his working life more miserable (phrases he remembered
now fondly, coming from Ray's mouth, as his friend catalouged the distressing
vestiments Ray felt he had to endure).  The uniform was himself, showing
the world who he was, and none of it was extra 
trappings. 
	But now he shed it, placing each piece gently down, folded neatly for
the time when it came to put them on again.  He watched his hands moving
slowly, and he was aware of their moving; brushing against fabric, telling
him the texture of leather that had recently been cleaned, feeling impressions
of the buttons.  
	He left his uniform on the table, crossed the room in his 
undergarments. Briefly he noticed where Dief had lain down, sleeping
already.  He wished him pleasant dreams, and stood before the window.
The air was cooling fast, and he propped the window open wide.  The outside
air came suddenly around him in a breeze, he felt his skin prickling
in gratitude, memories of chilled biting northern winds swirling about
him in the gentle city breeze.  Closing his eyes, he waited; the temperature
of the surface of his skin slowly dropped, and it was like a weight gradually
disappearing.  
	He inhaled deeply, and felt the cool air fill his body.  The 
odours and smog stole the refreshment he might have gained from it; tonight
he didn't care.  Inhaling again, he let the cooling night settle deep
within him.  He moved away, shedding the rest of his clothing as he went.
Crisp sheets greeted him when he lay down, the bed still cold from a
shaded day in an unheated room.  Soon the bed would warm from his body
heat; then he would move to the floor and let the wooden boards steal
the unneeded warmth away.  For now he lay on the soft, thin mattress
and let the waning evening gather around him sweetly, like a grandmother
come to tuck him in at night.
	He moved a hand to his head, brushing fingers through his hair, pressing
fingertips into his skull in brief massage.  Then, tracing down, he moved
both hands down the sides of his neck onto his shoulders, kneading gently.
There was no tension to be freed there, but it felt so good to touch
himself; he left his hands in place, resting, warming cooler hands from
warmer shoulders.  With a outward breath he drew his hands down, onto
his chest.  Briefly he stilled the motion, then with a tiny smile he
began to trace lightly fingertips over the areas of his chest, across
peaking nipples and through chest hair.  
	He breathed in cool air and exhaled, feeling the smooth texture of his
skin, the warmth of his belly, the ridges of his ribcage, the tiny bumps
surrounding his nipples.  He felt the sudden tightening of the muscles
throughout his body; small shivers coarsed down his legs.  He brought
one hand to his face, feeling the curve of his jaw and slight stubble
of his beard.  With the other hand he touched his mouth, first tracing
the lips then pulling on finger inside, sucking gently and licking. 
He traced the wet finger along his cheek, towards his ear and down the
back of his neck.  The night air found the moist skin and breathed like
fire onto it, chilling him.  
	For a moment he lay still, folding his hands across his stomach and
listened to his body.  All his senses seemed to have heightened, waiting
with breathless anticipation. He found himself grinning at the uncaring
ceiling, as he made himself wait.  Then he stretched his legs, placing
each foot on the bed sole down.  The sheets were smooth under the bottoms
of his feet, he stretched his toes wide as if gathering in the still
coolness of the untouched cotton.  
	Knees bent, he reached out and placed his palms on his thighs, 
then drew them slowly down.  When they touched his hips he drew them
out, caressing his hipbones, teasing himself and making every nerve ending
flare. With a lick to his lips, he drew his hands together and placed
them upon his genitals; for the first time acknowledging the firm arousal
there.  
	At first he kept his touches soft, as he'd touched his body 
elsewhere. One hand cupping his testicles, the other stroked along the
shaft of his penis.  He stilled the one hand and focused his strokes
on the penis, feeling the foreskin slip down, exposing sensitive skin
beneath.  After several strokes he stilled that hand and moved them other,
rolling the testicles in his fingers, tugging gently at each one. 	He
heard his breathing- ragged in the silence of the room; the 
slight chill had apparently fled.  Clenching his jaw, he let his upper
body relax nearly limp; his legs were pressed against the mattress, pushing
and holding his body still.  
	He let the moving hand cease its motion, leaving it cupped in 
place.  He reached out now with the other hand, bringing his hand upwards
to touch the tip of head with his thumb.  Barely touching the 
now-throbbing organ, he moved his thumb back and forth, against and then
along the slitted opening.  As he moved his thumb down he felt his body
shake; stiffening his arms he kept himself from responding with tumulted
force.  He moved his first hand, though, in concert with the one tracing
his head.  He tenderly dragged his fingernails across his testicles,
and then maintained the motions until every muscle in his body quaked,
and orgasm rushed upon him.
	He kept himself from screaming by biting at his lower lip; a sharp exhale
released it silently.  He kept his hands moving as the energy drained
from him; touching himself even as his erection softened.  Legs splayed
on the bed, still shaking, he remained otherwise still, placing his hands
over his genitals, feeling the heat like the summer's noon sun.  
	Breathing deeply, he listened to his heartbeat pounding.  His 
vision cleared, though he did not know what it was he'd been seeing.
He felt the last of the energy die away as he breathed again deeply.
The sheets he lay on radiated heat; he pushed himself away, rolling onto
the floor.  The cold wood greeted him sharply, as he dropped, contented
and relaxed.  The cooled night air flowed back in to surround him.
	As he fell asleep he heard the sirens calling, and smiled.

EPILOUGE (for Pam)

	Meanwhile, across the city Ray found himself hunkered down behind a
broken wall; staccato sounds rattled through the alley one man fired
a semi-automatic weapon into the night.  Red and blue lights flared,
lighting the street as cops pulled in, only to fling themselves behind
engine blocks and steel building supports.  Ray cursed once under his
breath, but didn't really mean it.  With the adrenalin flowing through
his body and the shouts of backup so close by, he felt as if his body
were on fire.  He smiled, and waved to catch his cohort's eye.
	With a quick motion, he indicated his intention; a nod from the other
cop assured him the other understood.  With a deep breath and a quick
prayer that somebody- should it be necessary, look after his family,
he shoved himself away from his protection and ran.  Weaving through
the piles of trash and tumbled walls, Ray reached the edge of the building
they had surrounded; none of the bullets had come closer than mere inches.
But now he could look up and see the two men crouched by windows, high
on the rasied second floor.  
	One man suddenly disappeared from view; the other remained beside broken
panes, firing unending rounds at the police below.  Ray didn't waste
time trying for a shot-- they both knew he couldn't reach the man still
firing.  Instead he turned his attention to the probable actions of the
man who'd gone, and held his pistol ready.  They'd seen him arrive and
knew he was there-- the question remained, who would get the first shot.
Ignoring the motions of the friendlies around him, Ray watched 
for movement, above, beside him, wondering where the man had gone.  Part
of his mind focused on the likelihood of actions, making its guesses
as to the man's new location.  Suddenly Ray made his prediction and turned
his head; his pistol came up before he registered the shape he saw, and
fired.
	Three bullets slammed into the shadow, and it fell forward, 
dropping a mini-Uzi.  Ray swore again, this time with more feeling, and
he moved forward.  Above him bulletfire ceased for a reload, and he heard
the echoes of a shouted demand for surrender.  With the man's partner
dead or apparently so, the remaining shooter fired again, wildly, aiming
at nothing and everything.  Answering fire came from across the building
where the police had finally manuevered into position.  
	As Ray stood above the corpse he'd created, ensuring it was in 
fact deceased, he heard the silence regain the alleyway.  With one last
look around, he holstered his weapon and waited for those others to join
him.  He felt the cold night air surrounding him, and he smiled.

the end

James Kythe Walkswithwind     
jkw@u.arizona.edu	                        Practise Humility      gila@jbx.com