Make Me Forget
Title: Make Me Forget
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Continuation of Tell Me I'm Wrong, Please... Stay, Not Yet, Don't, That's Kinda Hot, Never, Sigma, Now What?, Visiting Hours, Epsilon
Author's Note: The song that inspired this scene is Curtains, sung by Peter Gabriel and featured in the game Myst IV: Revelations. I would recommend that anyone not familiar with this song listen to it at least once as they read this chapter (starting with paragraph 3) because it perfectly encompasses the feelings that I tried to capture here. This is really much more of a 'mood' piece, the entire thing is meant to be felt more than read.
Maine tried to do as York suggested, keeping himself busy as a distraction from dwelling on things he could not change, and so he spent most of his time in the gym, working himself to exhaustion. He had to avoid the punching bag, his knuckles were still swollen and scabbed from his previous round with it, but eventually he would wear himself out, shower, and return to his room to lay in silence on the bed.
Three days later, Maine was stretched out on his bunk having recently come back from the showers. His hair was still wet and his body ached, and now that he was laying quite and still, his mind drifted to Washington again. The sound of the door opening startled him back to the present and he looked over to see a very disheveled Washington standing there, holding himself up in the doorway.
Maine got to his feet so quickly he saw black spots in his vision. He had not heard that he was being released, and he moved to go to him, but a look about Wash kept him at bay. He tipped his head a little, wondering what was going on behind those brown eyes that looked back at him with longing, fear, hope, wonder... Washington closed the door behind himself, then crossed the room with unsteady steps, as if walking was something that had to be focused on, something that had to be relearned. It made Maine's heart ache to see.
When Washington was standing right in front of him, he tentatively raised his hands, placed them on Maine's chest as though afraid his hands would pass right through him. As he found assurance of Maine's reality, he closed his eyes and just breathed him in.
Please, make it go away, he thought. Make it stop. Let me feel anything but the pain. Make me forget. He held Maine's face gently for a moment, feeling wetness grow behind his eyes. They were both silent, gazing at one another, lost in each other's eyes. Then Wash pressed him ever so gently down to sit on the bed.
As Wash knelt between Maine's legs, he took hold of his hands, looking at the scabbed and bruised knuckles. He passed his thumbs over them, then brought one hand to his mouth as he brushed his fingers up the underside of Maine's forearm.
Maine shivered at the whisper-soft kisses on his knuckles, showering gentle attention on each one. Wash turned his hand over and pressed another soft kiss there, letting his warm breath play over the skin of his palm. He brushed the tips of his fingers across his palm before placing more kisses there.
Then he pressed Maine's open hand to his cheek, closing his eyes tight and at last letting his tears fall, slipping from his eyes and spilling over Maine's hand. With his other hand, he caressed Washington's head, his heart near bursting with love for him.
A few moments passed like this, then Wash rested his head against Maine's stomach, wrapping his arms around him and sobbing as he felt relief for the first time since he had been given Epsilon. The stress and horrors he had been forced to experience broke at last.
Once he felt Washington's tears, Maine's own sprang to his eyes. Neither knew how long had passed as they held one another. When their tears had dried and their souls felt cleansed of the darkness they had harbored for too long, Wash slowly let his hands slip beneath Maine's shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin. As he began to push his shirt up, bit by bit, he kissed his stomach, kissed his chest, eased his shirt over his head and kissed his lips.
The heat grew in his chest. Make me forget. He moved down again, kissing his lover's body as his fingers unfastened the buttons of his pants, coaxing him up a little to slip them off. Crossing his hands to the opposite sides, he took hold of the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, letting it drop beside him as he leaned back in to trail his lips across Maine's chest once again.
This continued for some time, Washington's lips and hands playing across Maine's bare skin, and Maine's own hands working softly through Wash's hair and down his back. Then Wash pressed Maine gently down to the bed, standing for a moment to push his pants off and then slip in beside him. He explored him with his fingertips for a while, tracing the muscles in his arms, the line of his jaw, the curve of his chest. Each place his hands went, he would follow with kisses, remembering and relearning his lover's body.
It had been less than a week, and yet it felt as if a lifetime had parted them. He had experienced a whole different life in those five days, and he wanted to be drawn back into this one again. Please. Make me forget.
He finally straddled Maine, laying directly over him. Their bodies pressed against one another, sending chills up Maine's spine, causing him first to gasp, followed by a shaky exhale as he let the waves of desire flow through him. The kiss only enhanced these feelings, starting slow and almost uncertain but soon growing to a deep passion. Little moans formed in Washington's throat as Maine pulled him in closer.
There was no rush, no maddening need to tend. There was only the pure love and desire to be one with each other and to experience what only lovers could. Lost in one another, time had no meaning. The world stopped and the universe revolved around the only two souls that mattered. And for a few sweet moments, Washington forgot.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Continuation of Tell Me I'm Wrong, Please... Stay, Not Yet, Don't, That's Kinda Hot, Never, Sigma, Now What?, Visiting Hours, Epsilon
Author's Note: The song that inspired this scene is Curtains, sung by Peter Gabriel and featured in the game Myst IV: Revelations. I would recommend that anyone not familiar with this song listen to it at least once as they read this chapter (starting with paragraph 3) because it perfectly encompasses the feelings that I tried to capture here. This is really much more of a 'mood' piece, the entire thing is meant to be felt more than read.
Maine tried to do as York suggested, keeping himself busy as a distraction from dwelling on things he could not change, and so he spent most of his time in the gym, working himself to exhaustion. He had to avoid the punching bag, his knuckles were still swollen and scabbed from his previous round with it, but eventually he would wear himself out, shower, and return to his room to lay in silence on the bed.
Three days later, Maine was stretched out on his bunk having recently come back from the showers. His hair was still wet and his body ached, and now that he was laying quite and still, his mind drifted to Washington again. The sound of the door opening startled him back to the present and he looked over to see a very disheveled Washington standing there, holding himself up in the doorway.
Maine got to his feet so quickly he saw black spots in his vision. He had not heard that he was being released, and he moved to go to him, but a look about Wash kept him at bay. He tipped his head a little, wondering what was going on behind those brown eyes that looked back at him with longing, fear, hope, wonder... Washington closed the door behind himself, then crossed the room with unsteady steps, as if walking was something that had to be focused on, something that had to be relearned. It made Maine's heart ache to see.
When Washington was standing right in front of him, he tentatively raised his hands, placed them on Maine's chest as though afraid his hands would pass right through him. As he found assurance of Maine's reality, he closed his eyes and just breathed him in.
Please, make it go away, he thought. Make it stop. Let me feel anything but the pain. Make me forget. He held Maine's face gently for a moment, feeling wetness grow behind his eyes. They were both silent, gazing at one another, lost in each other's eyes. Then Wash pressed him ever so gently down to sit on the bed.
As Wash knelt between Maine's legs, he took hold of his hands, looking at the scabbed and bruised knuckles. He passed his thumbs over them, then brought one hand to his mouth as he brushed his fingers up the underside of Maine's forearm.
Maine shivered at the whisper-soft kisses on his knuckles, showering gentle attention on each one. Wash turned his hand over and pressed another soft kiss there, letting his warm breath play over the skin of his palm. He brushed the tips of his fingers across his palm before placing more kisses there.
Then he pressed Maine's open hand to his cheek, closing his eyes tight and at last letting his tears fall, slipping from his eyes and spilling over Maine's hand. With his other hand, he caressed Washington's head, his heart near bursting with love for him.
A few moments passed like this, then Wash rested his head against Maine's stomach, wrapping his arms around him and sobbing as he felt relief for the first time since he had been given Epsilon. The stress and horrors he had been forced to experience broke at last.
Once he felt Washington's tears, Maine's own sprang to his eyes. Neither knew how long had passed as they held one another. When their tears had dried and their souls felt cleansed of the darkness they had harbored for too long, Wash slowly let his hands slip beneath Maine's shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin. As he began to push his shirt up, bit by bit, he kissed his stomach, kissed his chest, eased his shirt over his head and kissed his lips.
The heat grew in his chest. Make me forget. He moved down again, kissing his lover's body as his fingers unfastened the buttons of his pants, coaxing him up a little to slip them off. Crossing his hands to the opposite sides, he took hold of the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, letting it drop beside him as he leaned back in to trail his lips across Maine's chest once again.
This continued for some time, Washington's lips and hands playing across Maine's bare skin, and Maine's own hands working softly through Wash's hair and down his back. Then Wash pressed Maine gently down to the bed, standing for a moment to push his pants off and then slip in beside him. He explored him with his fingertips for a while, tracing the muscles in his arms, the line of his jaw, the curve of his chest. Each place his hands went, he would follow with kisses, remembering and relearning his lover's body.
It had been less than a week, and yet it felt as if a lifetime had parted them. He had experienced a whole different life in those five days, and he wanted to be drawn back into this one again. Please. Make me forget.
He finally straddled Maine, laying directly over him. Their bodies pressed against one another, sending chills up Maine's spine, causing him first to gasp, followed by a shaky exhale as he let the waves of desire flow through him. The kiss only enhanced these feelings, starting slow and almost uncertain but soon growing to a deep passion. Little moans formed in Washington's throat as Maine pulled him in closer.
There was no rush, no maddening need to tend. There was only the pure love and desire to be one with each other and to experience what only lovers could. Lost in one another, time had no meaning. The world stopped and the universe revolved around the only two souls that mattered. And for a few sweet moments, Washington forgot.