Prison Break Fic: i'm open to falling from grace
She's weak. She's needy. She's a little drunk.
She thought she was alone. She expected to be through the night, the whole weekend. They were to be gone and she would have time to mourn what never was and what will never be. James and her met a year ago today. He swept her off her feet. He said he loved her accent. She said she loved his. They were inseparable until.
Things change. Obviously, as the last few months of her life have shown. They keep changing everyday because LJ’s here and looking at her like he always does. And it’s all she can do to not yell at him: Stop looking at me like that. Or worse, Come here.
“Sofia,” he calls from the doorway, voice soft and tentative like he doesn’t want to spook her. It’s a little late for that. Too late for that.
She doesn’t say anything, just gets up from the table and shoulders past him. She won’t look him in the eye and pulls from his grasp roughly. He’s got to know.
She’s all those things but still she won’t do that.
~~~
She wishes she were drunk. Then she’d have an excuse for this. A real one.
The truth is she’s tired of fighting it. Like it or not there is an it. And maybe she should’ve waited until she was drunk again so she could blame it on that.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing, not really, though he thinks he does. She smiles but there’s a twist in her gut because she shouldn’t really be here. She shouldn’t be taking this from him. It doesn’t matter if it’s freely given.
They’re front to front, skin to skin, one of her legs over his, his hardness pressing against her stomach. His hips move, trying to gain some friction. She steadies him with a hand on his hip, her tongue sliding against his.
Even if she was drunk, it wouldn’t be a good enough reason. Everything would sound like an excuse. Nothing can justify how very wrong this is.
He’s too young and too wanting.
It’s not too late. She could turn the other way, lock her herself in her room and sit the night away. She could wait till morning and explain the how and why of it all.
She doesn’t turn. She pushes him down, slides over him until she’s straddling his waist.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, nearly whispering like if he speaks too loud the spell will be broken.
She doesn’t say anything. just smiles and thinks he’s beautiful, too. His eyes are wide with wonder and skin flushed pink under his tan.
“Listo?” she asks, stroking both hands down his arms. He’s shaking a little and she remembers that feeling, that nervousness and need and disbelief making one’s heart beat too fast and skin seem too tight.
“Si.”
She grabs the foil packet, tearing it open before sliding down some so that she can put it on him. When she wraps her hand around him, he hisses, shuts his eyes tight like he’s trying to hold it all in. So she’s gentle, slow, trying not to give him too much sensation. It’s for him, not her, but it need not be over before it really starts.
She moves the slowest she’s ever moved, sliding inch by inch down until he’s all the way inside. Later she’ll have half-moon shapes from where his nails dig into her flesh but she doesn’t care. When she thinks he’ll be okay, she shifts, leaning down to lick into his mouth.
When she moves again, the seconds fly by until he’s tensing and beads of sweat form under her hands.
She takes care of him, cleans him up and gets him something to drink.
“Stay,” he says.
“LJ…” she begins.
“Por favor.”
He’s pulling her back down, cuddling up next to her, sliding one hand up her the dress she’d slipped back on.
She takes his hand, puts it right where she needs it to be.
~~~
“You and LJ?” comes from over her shoulder. Lincoln. In her mind’s eyes, she sees him standing there, arms crossed, features pulled tight in anger.
She’s been waiting for this moment. Tension has been humming just under the surface of her skin for days ready to bear the deserved attack.
He doesn’t say anything else. He expects her to say something. She should but she can’t. She’s gone over it in her head a million times and there’s nothing to say. There’s nothing that can make it right.
She dries her hands, drops the towel on the counter, then turns. “Lo siento. I leave tonight.”
She doesn’t give him time to say anything else. She figures he wouldn’t need it anyway since there’s no Wait that follows behind her.
~~~
He finds her. She didn’t make it hard. She wants to say goodbye. She needs him to know.
So here they are where the first kiss happened. It’s where she slipped her hand in his and thought This is to take that sad look from his face.
“It wasn’t right.”
“Don’t say I’m too young.”
“You are. Lo siento.”
“I’m not.”
She laughs because of course he thinks he isn’t. He’s too young to think otherwise. Too young to feel it now.
“Promise me you’ll keep in touch,” he asks of her and she thinks How did this thing get turned around?