Fic drabble #1, fill-in-the-blanks pairing, NC-17.
I've been sorting through the folder where I keep a lot of my writing and rereading stuff that I don't remember writing. Some of it seems halfway decent to me, so I've decided to post it here. I'd love to hear thoughts, constructive criticism, etc, if anyone feels so inclined. :)
Desire washed over her, sweeping away all guilt and concern she had for his health. She looked at him lying in bed, nearly asleep in the afternoon sunlight, his hair glinting like gold. Dust motes floated lazily through the air and the room--the world--seemed stiller than possible. He stirred in his half-sleep, pushed the quilt back off of his sweaty body, clad in boxers and nothing else. She was removing her clothes and in the bed with him before she had a conscious thought to do so.
When she jostled him awake he didn't seem surprised to find her there, naked, but he also didn't seem as happy as she would've liked. Not to say that he rejected her advances, just that he laid back and let her do all the work. His shorts were gone without him moving a muscle and she straddled his body before he'd even met her eyes. Finally he moved, his hands seeming almost too heavy for him to lift off the twisted, khaki- colored sheets to trace a path up her tense thighs to her hips. The stitches in his wrists made more contact with her skin than his fingers, scratching as if to remind her of their presence. She eased down onto him as his hands moved to grasp her breasts gently, reverently.
She couldn't keep her eyes open for a moment and her head was too heavy to hold up. After a moment, she started moving and, when she raised her head up, his eyes sought hers out and wouldn't release them. The pleasure was more than she could deal with, so she sped her movements up; they could draw it out another time. Today she sensed in herself a need more to be 'there' than to enjoy getting there.
His gaze never broke away from hers and she couldn't bring herself to do it. He was so quiet and gentle and accepting, so completely different from all the other times they'd been together. She didn't have time to think about it though as an orgasm crept up out of nowhere, surprising her with its intensity. The hands that had moved back to her hips applied pressure for the first time, holding her to him as they rode it out.
After she'd recovered sufficiently, the feather-touch was back, skimming over all the skin he could reach. She started moving again, this time taking the chance to wonder at his behaviour and actions. He usually participated more, took a more active role. Today he was downright docile, letting her do as she pleased as if it didn't matter if he reached climax or not. He'd been watching his cock disappear into her body but he stopped and met her eyes again. The tenderness, sorrow and resignation she saw there were like cold water in her face.
She suddenly knew that even though he was lying completely still and letting her take the lead, she was being made love to. He was giving totally and completely and she didn't know what to do with it. She hadn't realized how much she felt his love, but now she was conscious of it spread over her like a warm, comforting blanket. She felt so unworthy and undeserving. What had she ever given him but an argument and a disdainful look and he was giving her his soul in return. She couldn't help it, she burst into tears of shame.
His lethargy instantly disappeared and he raised to a seated position as quickly as he could considering she was still on top of him and he was deep inside her. His hands coaxed her head up, forced her to meet his gaze, though it lasted only seconds. He seemed to understand and put his arms around her, gathering her to his chest as she wept. 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,' he whispered repeatedly as his hand swept through her hair, apologizing as if it was somehow all his fault that everything was so messed up.
Desire washed over her, sweeping away all guilt and concern she had for his health. She looked at him lying in bed, nearly asleep in the afternoon sunlight, his hair glinting like gold. Dust motes floated lazily through the air and the room--the world--seemed stiller than possible. He stirred in his half-sleep, pushed the quilt back off of his sweaty body, clad in boxers and nothing else. She was removing her clothes and in the bed with him before she had a conscious thought to do so.
When she jostled him awake he didn't seem surprised to find her there, naked, but he also didn't seem as happy as she would've liked. Not to say that he rejected her advances, just that he laid back and let her do all the work. His shorts were gone without him moving a muscle and she straddled his body before he'd even met her eyes. Finally he moved, his hands seeming almost too heavy for him to lift off the twisted, khaki- colored sheets to trace a path up her tense thighs to her hips. The stitches in his wrists made more contact with her skin than his fingers, scratching as if to remind her of their presence. She eased down onto him as his hands moved to grasp her breasts gently, reverently.
She couldn't keep her eyes open for a moment and her head was too heavy to hold up. After a moment, she started moving and, when she raised her head up, his eyes sought hers out and wouldn't release them. The pleasure was more than she could deal with, so she sped her movements up; they could draw it out another time. Today she sensed in herself a need more to be 'there' than to enjoy getting there.
His gaze never broke away from hers and she couldn't bring herself to do it. He was so quiet and gentle and accepting, so completely different from all the other times they'd been together. She didn't have time to think about it though as an orgasm crept up out of nowhere, surprising her with its intensity. The hands that had moved back to her hips applied pressure for the first time, holding her to him as they rode it out.
After she'd recovered sufficiently, the feather-touch was back, skimming over all the skin he could reach. She started moving again, this time taking the chance to wonder at his behaviour and actions. He usually participated more, took a more active role. Today he was downright docile, letting her do as she pleased as if it didn't matter if he reached climax or not. He'd been watching his cock disappear into her body but he stopped and met her eyes again. The tenderness, sorrow and resignation she saw there were like cold water in her face.
She suddenly knew that even though he was lying completely still and letting her take the lead, she was being made love to. He was giving totally and completely and she didn't know what to do with it. She hadn't realized how much she felt his love, but now she was conscious of it spread over her like a warm, comforting blanket. She felt so unworthy and undeserving. What had she ever given him but an argument and a disdainful look and he was giving her his soul in return. She couldn't help it, she burst into tears of shame.
His lethargy instantly disappeared and he raised to a seated position as quickly as he could considering she was still on top of him and he was deep inside her. His hands coaxed her head up, forced her to meet his gaze, though it lasted only seconds. He seemed to understand and put his arms around her, gathering her to his chest as she wept. 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,' he whispered repeatedly as his hand swept through her hair, apologizing as if it was somehow all his fault that everything was so messed up.