lady_bols | Room 6620, Morning of the Third Day

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Room 6620, Morning of the Third Day

She slept, and dreamt of fields of verdant green shrouded by the grey English sky. A bell tolled in the distance, and in the mist, she could see ranks of her fellow officers, solemn in their black dress uniforms. In their midst, six figures carried something heavy on their shoulders. She can see the line of the casket, but it takes a moment for her to register what it is.

There's a hole in the ground, clean edges, the mound of earth beside the grave covered with faux turf to hide the truth of it. She can smell lilies and her favourite, white roses. Evan has his arm around Mols shoulders, and her face looks so still. She's been crying, Alex can tell. But she's put a brave face on.

He's right, she knows. She's strong, and resourceful. She's going to be all right. She is.

(I'm happy, hope you're happy too.)

But it doesn't keep her from missing her daughter. And it hurts. Like nothing she's ever experienced. A part of her knows she should look away, but she can't. She watches as they lower the casket into the ground, listens as the pipes play, a haunting melody that puts voice to the ache in her heart. It feels like a final goodbye, and she struggles to stay there as long as she can.

But there's another reality she belongs to now, softly snoring in bed next to her. She opens her eyes, feeling the tears on her cheeks, and drinks in the sight of him. His hair is mussed, and when he's asleep, she can see the outlines of that young man's face beneath the surface. She thinks of Betty, and gently brushes a lock of his hair back from his face, tucking it behind his ear.

Betty knows what it's like to lose a child. Two of them, even. God, she hopes this place will afford her the chance to meet the woman again. Anything is possible, here, isn't it?

Aren't they both proof of that?

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He eases up to her, and stands. The water is just below chest height on him, and he reckons if they were still for a minute, it'd be like looking through glass. The sun beats down on his back and shoulders, and it's just about silent, barring the waves and a breeze distantly brushing the palm trees.

He was going to make a glib remark, but it withers away when he looks her in the eye. For a moment, he just watches her face.

Then he leans in and kisses her, because he can and he wants to, and there hasn't been enough of it today.

Edited 2012-07-11 12:30 (UTC)

He makes a move towards her and she closes the distance without thought, wrapping her arms around his neck and returning that kiss with the tender hunger of a woman too long denied. Bare skin against wet bare skin, chest to chest, the sensation draws a quiet moan of appreciation from her throat.

She almost lost him, and the wonder of having him here, touching him, kissing him, isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

He only pulls back when a wave dislodges the sand under his feet, and then only long enough to take a breath. Gentle, hungry kisses, pulling at her lips before licking into her mouth, a quiet groan pulled from him as he tangles his tongue with hers.

He never thought he'd see her again. For all his reticence to look or touch so far, the wonder of it isn't lost on him either.

He deepens the kiss, and she responds in kind, content to let him lead the dance. She's exquisitely aware of where his hands are, wishing he would just fold her up in his arms, but not wanting to push the issue.

The waves push them together, and she falls into him, laughing softly under her breath, still intent on each new combination of lips and tongue. Each one is a little less tentative, a little more insistent, his hunger speaking to hers, making it impossible not to answer.

If she can't tell him how much she longs for him, longs to have him close, longs to soothe all the stress from his face and from his body, longs to reach down and soothe his heart, then she can show him, one kiss at a time.

He pulls back eventually, swallowing hard. And finally lets himself look down, and see what's pushing against his chest. His eyes close briefly - soft, warm tits against his skin, Christ - and then he bends, and brushes a kiss over the rise of one of them.

She tastes salty, of course, silk under his lips, wet and yielding to his mouth. He drags a deep breath in, aware of his heartbeat pulsing between his legs, and runs his hands down her sides.

'I think, Lady Bols, you're in danger of snapping my restraint.'

Edited 2012-07-11 13:41 (UTC)

Her hands comb through his wet hair, and she bites her lip when he bends, arching back to give him all the room he wants. His touch is so gentle, it draws a long, appreciative sigh from her.

'It would hardly be the first time,' she breathes, smiling, her voice warm with arousal.

That said, she cups his cheek in her palm and drags his gaze back up to meet her own.

'I'm happy, either way, love. Just tell me.'

'Not like this, though.'

His gaze rakes over her face as though the answer lives there, trying to think straight long enough to choose.

'Dunno,' he says, eventually.

'I mean, I do. But-'

He brings his hand up, fingertips over her stomach until he's cupping a breast in his palm and visibly struggling with want.

'-at this point, I think it might be me who wants to feel better. An' I know I'm not planning on going anywhere after. But I do have to leave eventually, an' maybe doing this'll make it worse. For you, I mean.'

For him, too, but he'll have distractions. He's not stuck here.

'I don' know if the Bar'll let me back, Alex.'

Her eyes sheen as he gives voice to her darkest fear, but her smile doesn't falter.

'If it doesn't, then... ' Her voice waivers with her resolve, and there's an urgency in her touch now, just the barest tremor as she strokes his face.

'I don't think she'd do that to either of us. I just can't -- imagine that the universe would be so cruel.'

She knows she sounds like a little girl, pleading with a hope that has no foundation in truth. But she has to believe it. She can't think they've come this far only to have it torn away from them.

'Maybe we can...' She shrugs, utterly lost now. She pulls him close and wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his throat, holding on tight. The thought of losing him again is just too much to bear, it seems.

'Because it's been so kind to us so far?'

He snorts quietly, and holds her close.

'It'll be all right. Come on.'

His hand finds her, and he starts moving back towards shore.

She's reluctant to part from him, and grips his hand so tight, he might think she was afraid he was going to dissolve in front of her eyes.

One hand swipes across her eyes, and she pretends to push her hair back again.

And her thoughts have settled on something, something ridiculous and archaic, something so ludicrous, she doesn't want to give it voice yet. But she will, if it comes down to it.

'Gene, it would make us both feel better, but that isn't... I mean, that's not why I want to. And I don't want you to think I'd do it because I'm afraid I'll never get another chance. That's not fair to either of us. But it's important to me that it not feel like goodbye again. I want it to be a beginning for the two of us. A promise, and a declaration, and...'

Yeah, she's babbling now.

A promise and a declaration? That makes him blink a bit, because that's heavy in a whole different way. But a beginning is something he's just fine with.

'Ssh luv, it'll be alright.'

He's only walking them down to where the water is a bit less deep. Less likely to get pushed over while they...well. Whatever. He stops when the level touches the waistband, and pulls her close again.

'I'll ask around, see if there's a way to guarantee comin' back. I think someone said something to me once. I'll check, OK.'

If he can make it right, he will.

'Yeah, okay.' She goes to him again, nuzzling against his cheek, trying to tamp down the white hot terror his words brought up from deep within her. 'Okay.'

This is a beautiful day, and he's here, alive and strong, holding her. She forces herself to breathe, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, pushing the fear down until it's bearable again. (It's not bearable. It's fuel for a new set of nightmares. But it's something she has to face, something that has to be dealt with. She's stronger than this.)

'If you have any doubts,' she laughs, the sound dry in her throat, 'about how I feel about you, just remember this moment, all right?' Her arms tighten around him, and she presses her forehead against his, breathing his breath.

'Dozy mare,' he says quietly, with affection, and tilts his head so he can press his lips to hers. Almost before they've met, his hands come to her breasts again. Both this time, and his breath hitches, thumbs pulling over her nipples, caressing gently.

'I want you.'

It takes her a moment, and a bit of faith, to let his kiss soothe her again. But there's a sadness in her touch that wasn't there a few minutes ago. It may take a bit for her to catch up to him again, but she tries.

'All of me?' Because the tits are part of the complete package, and the rest of her is still, decidedly, a mess.

'Yeah,' he says, without hesitation.

'Always have.'

His mouth roams down her throat, planting soft kisses as they go. There's a detour to her neck, then along her collarbone, but his fingers don't stop playing and he slips his leg between hers. It could be for balance. But isn't.

'...you do realise,' he murmurs, as his mouth moves on down, 'that now you've let me touch 'em, I may not be able to let go?'

She giggles a bit, grinning despite herself. Her arms twine around his head, resting on his shoulders, fingertips marking the lines of his skull as he explores. She's not sure he knows what he's getting himself in for, or that he won't change his mind later, but right now, she wants to take him at his word. She needs to believe it's true, so she does.

Her legs twine with his, and she lips at his ear, still breathing hard, both from the emotional roller coaster and the exertion.

'It'll make getting dressed a bit of a challenge,' she whispers, urging his mouth back for another kiss. 'And the rest of me might feel a bit neglected.' Her pale attempt at a tease.

'Oh, I don' think the rest of you has anythin' to worry about.'

He moans quietly into the kiss, because when she wraps her leg around his, he can rub his thigh against the centre of her. He feels the brush of her hair, and can't think. He's been wanting to get in there for years, years, and now she's pressed to him and kissing him like she can't get enough.

He breaks off, and no detours this time; he lifts one breast slightly and ducks his head, licking the soft skin until he can close his lips around her gorgeous pert nipple. Another groan, his leg presses up, and if she can see his face, she'll see a happy man.

Her eyes fall closed, and she gives herself over to it, to the wash of heat and sensation, to the ache behind her breast bone. How many nights has she dreamed of this? How many times has she felt guilty just wanting to hold him? And now he's pressing one strong thigh between hers, pressing into that bundle of nerves, waking up parts of her she'd thought long dead. Last night was just a taste, just a glimpse of what's to come.

(If it was the last few seconds of your life, and you could do anything, anything at all...)

Her head falls forward against his throat, and her teeth graze over his skin, tasting salt and his scent, richer now that it's clean of aftershave. Her tongue marks a line up to the hollow beneath his ear, and she breathes him in.

'I love you, Gene.'

There's no need to keep that secret any longer.

Something lurches in his chest, and his eyes fall closed. It's a good feeling, but sad as well. That they had to die to get here. And he's struggling with himself; his mouth is occupied, so he doesn't have to say anything. But is that fair? And she can't know how hard it is for him to admit something like that back.

'Me too, luv.'

He says it without looking at her, but he means it. The embarrassment probably shows, if she's looking, but he tries not to think about that. She doesn't deserve to be left hanging, even with all the things left unresolved.

A brief pause, and he switches his attention to the other one. His hands stroke over her hips, and around to her backside, pulling her tighter against him.

His words, quiet as they are, wash over her like sunlight, and she wraps herself around him, her breath hitching in her chest. Her teeth find his ear lobe and she gives him a playful nip.

'You said not here.'

Sand. Sand in interesting places.

That said, she doesn't let go, her right thigh sliding along his, her hands questing over his shoulders and back, revelling in the feel of him beneath her palms. The rest of the world can burn down for all she cares. She's with him, and he knows now, her heart belongs to him.

'Mmmm.'

He tugs with his lips, then lets go, breathing hard too. She'll be able to feel the reason against her stomach, probably.

'But I'm a stupid, stupid man.'

How does he come up with this stuff, seriously? He stands straight, and pulls air over his teeth.

'Advantage of fooling around here a bit is that you might actually get more than thirty seconds out of me back in bed.'

Can't be more honest than that.

She does feel him, or rather, Sergeant Rock, standing tall against her skin. One hand frees itself from around his neck, and dips down between them.

'I want you in a bed,' she purrs, taking him in hand, gentle but firm. 'I want you on the couch, too. Maybe in the shower. If we had a kitchen, I'd want you on the counter, maybe even the floor. But I want you on a bed first, all right?'

She sounds like she may have a plan. Doesn't Alex always have a plan?

'If you snap my knicker elastic, you'll be gettin' a spank,' he says, through gritted teeth.

Just, y'know, in case she's one of those women who thinks that's funny when a bloke's got a raging hard-on.

'An' yeah. That's all right.'

He was going to insist on the same thing. But the need to take the edge off is becoming pressing. It's those tits. They're just...there. He's still got one in his hand. Can't let go.

'Not going to snap your knicker elastic, love.' She may sound a bit amused he'd think that's what she's about to do. 'May I?'

She may be tugging at said knicker elastic now, with an entirely different course of action in mind.

'Oh, by all means.'

He's rather proud of the comeback. Pretty sure the politeness - no matter how obviously false - won't last.

And then his mouth is back on her neck, lipping at it, finding a patch that looks tasty to gently suck on.

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