Chapter 1
Title: Sleepless
Pairing: Britney/Justin
Rating: PG13
He should leave.
Her hair is sprawled out across the pillow. He lifts a blond curl and twists it gently between his fingers.
Just five more minutes…
He resists the urge to kiss her softly shut eyelids, waves away the thought quickly. She’d wake up.
Instead he settles for a feel of her skin. He trails his finger over her collarbone, over the bumps that seem sharper then he remembers, more visible. She’s too thin. He sighs in frustration. Someone needs to slow her down, bake her an apple pie.
He used to be that person.
A burning pain tears trough him. It’s off limits now, to touch her like this, to worry about her weight.
He slowly pulls his hand away from her. He has to be gone when she wakes up…it’s a part of their silent agreement. But before he can - she shifts a little, rolling from her back to her side so that her face is almost buried in the crook of his neck. He swallows hard, suddenly tense. Is she up?
Hope fills his veins.
Hope that quickly squash down.
Her chest is rising up and down, evenly, as she draws tiny breaths trough her nose and lets them out by her mouth. She’s still fast asleep.
He turns his head down carefully, looks at her peaceful face. Has she always been this beautiful? He decides he better get up before more dangerous thoughts invade his mind, he’s not supposed to yearn for anything other than her body. It’s another unspoken promise.
His boxer-briefs lay by the bed, next to his jeans… his shirt should be here somewhere, and his jacket is downstairs. He walks down slowly, reluctantly, without the shirt. He couldn’t find it and decided against searching and risking waking her up.
The thought of him affecting her every-day life, even by a tiny blush when maybe someone else finds it, is bringing him more pleasure than it should.
Maybe she’ll sleep in it when she finds it. He pulls on his shoes with an idiotic smile covering his face. Maybe she hid it.
Yeah, right.
He closes the door after him, carefully, and jogs to his car.
Her estate is big and he won’t be met by flashing paparazzi lights until he’s well hidden behind a cap and tinted car windows.
Then he’ll have to drive by Lances place to return the car and take a cab home.
It’s a complicated procedure and she’s paranoid that they’ll get caught - but it’s his deal of the barging. He won’t do dirty motels.
Pairing: Britney/Justin
Rating: PG13
He should leave.
Her hair is sprawled out across the pillow. He lifts a blond curl and twists it gently between his fingers.
Just five more minutes…
He resists the urge to kiss her softly shut eyelids, waves away the thought quickly. She’d wake up.
Instead he settles for a feel of her skin. He trails his finger over her collarbone, over the bumps that seem sharper then he remembers, more visible. She’s too thin. He sighs in frustration. Someone needs to slow her down, bake her an apple pie.
He used to be that person.
A burning pain tears trough him. It’s off limits now, to touch her like this, to worry about her weight.
He slowly pulls his hand away from her. He has to be gone when she wakes up…it’s a part of their silent agreement. But before he can - she shifts a little, rolling from her back to her side so that her face is almost buried in the crook of his neck. He swallows hard, suddenly tense. Is she up?
Hope fills his veins.
Hope that quickly squash down.
Her chest is rising up and down, evenly, as she draws tiny breaths trough her nose and lets them out by her mouth. She’s still fast asleep.
He turns his head down carefully, looks at her peaceful face. Has she always been this beautiful? He decides he better get up before more dangerous thoughts invade his mind, he’s not supposed to yearn for anything other than her body. It’s another unspoken promise.
His boxer-briefs lay by the bed, next to his jeans… his shirt should be here somewhere, and his jacket is downstairs. He walks down slowly, reluctantly, without the shirt. He couldn’t find it and decided against searching and risking waking her up.
The thought of him affecting her every-day life, even by a tiny blush when maybe someone else finds it, is bringing him more pleasure than it should.
Maybe she’ll sleep in it when she finds it. He pulls on his shoes with an idiotic smile covering his face. Maybe she hid it.
Yeah, right.
He closes the door after him, carefully, and jogs to his car.
Her estate is big and he won’t be met by flashing paparazzi lights until he’s well hidden behind a cap and tinted car windows.
Then he’ll have to drive by Lances place to return the car and take a cab home.
It’s a complicated procedure and she’s paranoid that they’ll get caught - but it’s his deal of the barging. He won’t do dirty motels.