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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'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.

Again, her eyes fall closed, and she whimpers under her breath. Dexterity is key, she thinks, but it's getting to be a challenge. He's quickly finding ways to steal her composure, to make her shiver and gasp.

But she's determined, slipping her hand down, under the waistband of his shorts, hissing at the heat she feels against her palm.

'Oh love..'

He's as hard as iron, but silken under the water. It eases her way, letting her find out just how her hand fits around him, listening to the sound of his breath and the tension in his body.

His body became pretty much all tension, as soon as her hand touched him. He moans against her neck, and briefly drops his forehead to her shoulder. He's hyper-aware of everything, nerves on full alert - the heat on his scalp, the way the salt water has made her hair curl under her ear. The gentle pressure of her hand, making him throb.

'We should...mmmwe should go where it's shallow.'

He doesn't want to concentrate on staying upright. And he can't touch her like this, not properly.

'All right,' she answers, gently leaning back, taking him with her. The water catches them, keeps them close. Her lips find his cheekbone, trail down his jaw and find his lips again, tasting him in small, hungry mouthfuls as she steers them into shallower water.

'You should lose the shorts.'

She wants to feel his skin against hers. Alone, out here in the water, it feels like they're the only two people in the world. She doesn't want anything between them.

He nods, and as soon as the water is around a foot high, he sits down and does just that. A glance around first, to check that no one else is about to turn up. But no, they're really on their own. And staying in a bit of water should stop sand being too much of an issue.

He's not shy. He has no need to be. So he leans back on one elbow, and holds the other hand up to her.

'C'mere, Alex.'

The waves push them around more in the shallows, and she lets them, slithering up beside him again, her hands marking his thighs, up to his hips, across the softness of his middle and up to his chest. Taking in all the small details, where there's hair and where there's not. One arm slips around his neck again, and she hooks a leg around his thigh, anchoring herself to him.

'Hold on,' she whispers, taking him in hand again, watching his face this time with wide, dark eyes.

'Mmm.'

His face is all tight lines, the tension clear, and his breath sounds loud to his own ears. He makes a quiet noise when she wraps her hand around his length, and nuzzles at her neck. His free hand comes to rest on her hip.

''bout you, though?'

His ego wants to take care of her first, but even he can admit it's obvious he's not going to last long. He can't remember the last time he was so hard.

'You can take care of me later. Let me take care of you now.'

She curls against him, trying to get as much skin to skin contact as possible.

'Please.'

Her hips rock against his thigh, and if he can register her face, he can see she's intent, so focused on giving him what he needs right now, his pleasure is feeding her own. Warm sun on her skin, the gentle splash of the waves, and the feel of his body. That's all she needs right now.

Edited 2012-07-11 22:41 (UTC)

Skin to skin contact is about the most perfect thing in the world right now. He adjusts as best he can to let her get close, and then folds around her, kissing her neck and fondling her arse. He needs to distract himself a bit. Every stroke of her hand sends a flood of aching pleasure rolling under his skin, building slowly. If it didn't feel so good, it would almost be relaxing.

'I'll take care of you later. See if you w- shit, rub there - were tellin' the truth.'

Oh, yes, instructions are good, and she adjusts her grip to take advantage. Just there, under the head, the place where he seems to tense the most. He's thick in her hand, making her mouth water just thinking about it.

'Think you can, hmm?' She knows he can. She has no doubts whatsoever, but it wouldn't be them if there wasn't some push and pull.

She purrs, and her hips scribe gentle circles on his thigh, moving in time with her hand. Her grip tightens, pushing him a bit now, taking the whole length of him in long strokes.

His hard breaths start to turn into moans, quiet but undeniable. His eyes close, and his head falls back, making him feel like the pleasure is coming from further away.

'Yeah.'

His voice cracks, and the hand on her arse jerks, and moves to cover hers.

'Yeah, I think I can. Oh Christ, do it here...'

His fingers press hers tightly, making her index finger push right up under the crown. His thumb swipes across the swollen head, and he cries out softly. He's still, feeling the thrumming of his nerves and the way his balls have started to ache. But he can't stay like that. He has to move, and rocks into her grip, concentrating hard. His hand falls away, and curls around his swollen sac.

'Faster, sweet'eart.'

He's magnificent like this, the sun in his hair making him just as golden as he was before. She presses her forehead to his temple, her legs gripping his, locking their bodies together.

And her hand, all the care and attention she can focus, all of it goes into that place of connection. From the tip all the way to the root, switching so she can use both hands, trusting him to hold her close.

'Let me,' she begs, taking over from where he's gripping himself, exchanging it for a gentle, fondling grasp. Faster now, taking back control, her grip on his shaft firm and sure. Oh, but he's glorious, and she nuzzles his chin, kissing the corner of his mouth. Drinking in those soft cries like they're all the sustenance she'll ever need.

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