She Sleeps, You Dream
Mar. 14th, 2008 12:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
so_jangTitle: She sleeps, you dream
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
oparu
Rating: R (implied sex)
Pairing: Elizabeth/John
Summary: 2nd person POV, John can't sleep
Notes: fortimeboundpythia ! I hope you like it.
If she would move her head, you could roll over and let the circulation back into your arm. She won't, so you stroke you fingers lightly over her jaw and wonder what is it you've done to deserve this moment. It doesn't matter that you can't sleep, insomnia is a blessing when she's with you because you have these quiet moments.
Your body is still pleasantly sore and you can still taste her on your lips. You run your tongue over your lips again and find the spot where she bit your lip a little too hard. You teased her until her eyes were wide and you laughed. She threatened to bite you somewhere else and you relented. She was over and around you and laughing seemed to be your only appropriate release.
Then she rode you, crushed the slight weight of her body against yours until your flesh ached and sang for her in the same breath. Breath- your breath- she gasped into your lungs, rushed back in the harsh grunted prayer of her name when you filled her. Sweat wasn't the only thing wet on your skin and hers, and you realize now you'll have to change the sheets.
You wonder if anyone notices how often you do your laundry. You decide no one notices that anymore than they notice the two of you sneaking back to each other's quarters.
Tonight was different, there's a word in her mind that made her fall asleep wrapped up around you as if she is part of the tangled sheets on your bed. The word dances between you, as solid as the air was so many moments ago when you almost lost the ability to breathe. She had that forced calm that always frightens you, and you let yourself grow still and take those few extra breaths to catch up. She needed you to say something you couldn't say. You held her hand and pulled her to you, counting on your chest to be what you couldn't voice.
Kissing her seemed natural then, and when you got to the point where you stop, where the two of you always stop, this time you didn't. You didn't need to because that thought was over. You stopped anyway, reaching for your dresser out of habit. She was the one who whispered it was all right.
You can't help wondering if it is. If this mass of stolen moments and sleepless nights can be enough to hold something more. Does it have to be? You ask yourself. You have options, but you won't let yourself consider them. It's hers more than yours and you're nearly so afraid of the thought that leaving it up to her seems cowardly.
In the end, she just wants to be held. You didn't talk.
Rolling her head to your chest, you feel the pins and needles as blood rushes back into your arm. She's safer here. You almost wish you could keep her, hold her safe while the world goes on without you. You'll never say it, but you're tired. Give and tak- ebb and flow- you can't help feeling the tide runs out a little further each time and comes back more weakly.
She feels it too. It's in her face when you're alone. You wonder if anyone else can see it and worry that this will drain her faster. That word comes up again, snaking into your mind and shaking you out of the pleasant half-sleep.
Your ceiling is too blank, too quiet for the turmoil in your mind.
You've made choices and you never thought they were leading you here. You thought you were past here and there was no returning to it. You saw her with that Mike Branton, the man who wasn't you in all the ways that matter, but, she came to your bed when Carson was dead.
You went to hers when you couldn't sleep the night after. You clung to her when you were too lost to cry. Crying is admit weakness, fucking her is, well, another weakness entirely. One you allow yourself too often.
It's lost some of it's power, instead of the blinding rush you usually feel, you came in a sob and she was worse. She nearly cracked when she collapsed against you. Neither of you know what to say and you can't stop wondering if she'll end it.
You won't.
You can't.
Not before, not even now, when your better senses promise you this could be a mistake that ends both of you. There's too much fear for that to be wholly true. You feel like you've been kicked in the gut when you think about it too long.
You kiss her forehead. Her legs rub against yours. She sighs and you hold on. You don't notice falling asleep, but when you wake up she's the one watching you.
Reaching for her cheek, you feel your heart start to ache when she smiles. She moves her lips and you pull her down to kiss her.
Author:
oparuRating: R (implied sex)
Pairing: Elizabeth/John
Summary: 2nd person POV, John can't sleep
Notes: for
timeboundpythia ! I hope you like it.If she would move her head, you could roll over and let the circulation back into your arm. She won't, so you stroke you fingers lightly over her jaw and wonder what is it you've done to deserve this moment. It doesn't matter that you can't sleep, insomnia is a blessing when she's with you because you have these quiet moments.
Your body is still pleasantly sore and you can still taste her on your lips. You run your tongue over your lips again and find the spot where she bit your lip a little too hard. You teased her until her eyes were wide and you laughed. She threatened to bite you somewhere else and you relented. She was over and around you and laughing seemed to be your only appropriate release.
Then she rode you, crushed the slight weight of her body against yours until your flesh ached and sang for her in the same breath. Breath- your breath- she gasped into your lungs, rushed back in the harsh grunted prayer of her name when you filled her. Sweat wasn't the only thing wet on your skin and hers, and you realize now you'll have to change the sheets.
You wonder if anyone notices how often you do your laundry. You decide no one notices that anymore than they notice the two of you sneaking back to each other's quarters.
Tonight was different, there's a word in her mind that made her fall asleep wrapped up around you as if she is part of the tangled sheets on your bed. The word dances between you, as solid as the air was so many moments ago when you almost lost the ability to breathe. She had that forced calm that always frightens you, and you let yourself grow still and take those few extra breaths to catch up. She needed you to say something you couldn't say. You held her hand and pulled her to you, counting on your chest to be what you couldn't voice.
Kissing her seemed natural then, and when you got to the point where you stop, where the two of you always stop, this time you didn't. You didn't need to because that thought was over. You stopped anyway, reaching for your dresser out of habit. She was the one who whispered it was all right.
You can't help wondering if it is. If this mass of stolen moments and sleepless nights can be enough to hold something more. Does it have to be? You ask yourself. You have options, but you won't let yourself consider them. It's hers more than yours and you're nearly so afraid of the thought that leaving it up to her seems cowardly.
In the end, she just wants to be held. You didn't talk.
Rolling her head to your chest, you feel the pins and needles as blood rushes back into your arm. She's safer here. You almost wish you could keep her, hold her safe while the world goes on without you. You'll never say it, but you're tired. Give and tak- ebb and flow- you can't help feeling the tide runs out a little further each time and comes back more weakly.
She feels it too. It's in her face when you're alone. You wonder if anyone else can see it and worry that this will drain her faster. That word comes up again, snaking into your mind and shaking you out of the pleasant half-sleep.
Your ceiling is too blank, too quiet for the turmoil in your mind.
You've made choices and you never thought they were leading you here. You thought you were past here and there was no returning to it. You saw her with that Mike Branton, the man who wasn't you in all the ways that matter, but, she came to your bed when Carson was dead.
You went to hers when you couldn't sleep the night after. You clung to her when you were too lost to cry. Crying is admit weakness, fucking her is, well, another weakness entirely. One you allow yourself too often.
It's lost some of it's power, instead of the blinding rush you usually feel, you came in a sob and she was worse. She nearly cracked when she collapsed against you. Neither of you know what to say and you can't stop wondering if she'll end it.
You won't.
You can't.
Not before, not even now, when your better senses promise you this could be a mistake that ends both of you. There's too much fear for that to be wholly true. You feel like you've been kicked in the gut when you think about it too long.
You kiss her forehead. Her legs rub against yours. She sighs and you hold on. You don't notice falling asleep, but when you wake up she's the one watching you.
Reaching for her cheek, you feel your heart start to ache when she smiles. She moves her lips and you pull her down to kiss her.
