lady_bols | Room 6620, Post Deluge

Another moment passes, and she opens her eyes, meeting his gaze without fear.

'I think so.'

She knows what he's thinking, and she understands, she really does. But she also believes what she's telling him.

'It's not just a shag, is it. It's more than that.'

This is real, and she doesn't think she needs to spell that out for him again.

'It would've been more than a shag there as well. Maybe not in the vault, but later. And we wouldn't know what we know now.'

He'd give anything not to know what he knows now. And they wouldn't have had Keats, and he'd still have his lads. They could've had it all.

So, no. He doesn't think it's better. He thinks it's great, and he's glad they got a second chance. But if he had a choice, he would have chosen to have this at home.

'Gene, if we'd have had this back in your world, it would have meant I'd chosen you over Molly. And that would have destroyed us, eventually. Maybe not at first, but I would have grown to resent that you made me choose. Here, I don't have to choose. Here, I know the truth.'

She relinquishes her grip on his hand to press her palm over his heart.

'Here, I know who you are. And while I know you may think I'm mad or desperate or what have you, I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.'

'I would never have made you choose.'

He hopes that's true. But what he does know is that while he wanted to keep her there, he only had limited choice in the matter too.

'It was never my decision whether you stayed anyway. I knew when you had to leave, and I told you so.'

And he doesn't want her to know who he is. Even now she does, he wishes she didn't.

'And here we are,' she whispers, leaning down to nuzzle his cheek, her hair falling around them. 'This may not be better, but it's what we have. And it's built on truth, love. Hard truths, perhaps, but truth.'

Her mouth finds his, nibbling softly. 'So when did you know it would be more than a shag, hmm?'

And that's better, is it? Maybe for her, but he's not seeing much upside apart from the fact that she seems happy with it.

'Well, that depends.'

He raises himself to his elbows, all the better to kiss her properly.

'I knew it after I told you about Mac bein' bent. Might have suspected before.'

Didn't want to admit it, though.

'Mmm.' A proper kiss is what she's bee craving. Her hands weave around his neck, her fingertips exploring the short hairs at his nape. 'And when did you first suspect?'

Her question sounds a bit distracted. His kiss makes it hard to think. Not that she minds at all.

'Dunno. Didn't...mmm, write down the exact moment.'

His lips press a little more insistently, then pulls back to play, nipping at hers.

'After Gil Hollis, I think.'

Edited 2012-09-03 16:35 (UTC)

Oh yes, that was a hard one. They'd fought terribly, and she'd still tried to keep him from going out and getting himself shot. And then Shaz...

The memory twists her up a little, as does his touch. Her tongue dares to paint along his lower lip, before retreating again. Another hungry mouthful, and she pushes him back down, resting her weight on her hands beside his head.

'Manchester, Christmas. I know I know what I said, but it wasn't the truth. I wanted you, all of you, then.'

It wasn't that she'd tried to stop him getting shot. It was how much it hurt after she shoved him away at the end. He'd said he was going to take her home, and she lashed out at him, and told him to get lost, and went to talk to the criminal instead. It had cut, yeah. Maybe part of it because he knew he was in the wrong, in the end. But in the moment, it just all felt broken.

'You could've invited me into bed without sayin' anything.'

His hands go back to her hips, stroking gently.

'I wouldn't have expected anything long-term. I was always half expecting you to start using me for sex.'

She pulls back to look into his face, her brow furrowed and her dark eyes full of hurt.

'Did I seem so heartless to you then?'

Because she wanted more than just the physical connection. She needed his friendship, and his trust. Still does.

'Sometimes.'

His hands stop moving, and then drop away when he looks in her eyes.

'Bolly, you wouldn't let me near you. You kept asking for me to be around, but only ever knocked me back. You came to Manchester, and told me we could never happen. It was you and me against Mac, and the rest of the bent ones. We were a brilliant team. But you never took it further, and I couldn't make a move because you asked me not to.'

She has no idea how frustrating the last three years have been.

'And then I thought we could get back to normal, once you told Keats the shooting was an accident. But then you started going off with him. He was doing his best to take everyone away, and you were helping.'

He breaks off, and looks away. This all came after. Nothing he can do about it now, and it's not stuff he enjoys thinking about.

One hand lights on his cheek and pulls his gaze back to her own.

'I couldn't. You couldn't see it, because I couldn't let you, but I wanted you then. I wanted this.' Her hand turns, her knuckles stroking along his beard. 'But Molly... You... You didn't know about her, or how I hadn't forgotten my life before.'

'But I came back. For you.'

'I know now. I didn't then, and that's what you were asking about.'

She may force his head back, but she can't force him to meet her eyes.

'Of course I didn't know you hadn't forgotten your life before. To me, that place is life. Why would I walk around wondering if people have forgotten reality yet?'

He takes a deep breath, because he can feel himself spiralling the hole again. He doesn't want to get sucked in there. Bad enough he falls in when he tries to sleep. He's been trying to stay out of it during daylight hours, and talking like this isn't helping.

'It doesn't matter.' He refuses to look at her and she lowers her head to his shoulder, melting down to rest her weight on his chest.

It doesn't matter. He waited for her, and she came back for him. And they're here now. She hides her face against his throat, painting his skin with soft kisses, nuzzling, wordlessly pleading with him to come back to her from the edge of darkness.

'I want you, Gene.'

His eyes drop closed, and he wills himself not to hear the crack of the shotgun, or feel the wind of the pellets that took his face off. His fingers tighten on her back, and he pulls another deep breath in, and another, focusing on her mouth to keep himself here.

'Yeah.'

It helps. He still stretches for his glass.

'Need a drink.'

She gently rolls to his side, staying close, not leaving any air between them, but still giving him enough room to reach for his Scotch.

He drinks, and she presses her lips to his shoulder, wet kisses, painting herself on his skin. Reminding him why he wants to stay here, if only for just one more night.

He drains the glass in one mouthful - the burn's enough to distract his thoughts, and she's close enough to keep them busy. So he falls back, and puts an arm around her in silent thanks.

It's easy to mold herself to his side, easy to kiss her way up his throat again, gentle, suckling bites to keep his attention focused on her. Her hands caress over his chest, down his side to his hip, petting over his skin with a deliberate, warm touch.

It's a slow seduction this time, but there's an unmistakeable hunger as well. She's never been good at forgetting, and her thoughts of the coming days are dark. She needs him to remind her, as well, just what it is they both have at stake here.

Edited 2012-09-03 23:32 (UTC)

'Time for round two?' he murmurs, not expecting a reply. Just an excuse to hear something banal, really, though there's nothing banal in the way she's kissing him.

He tilts his head to give her mouth more room, and his hand follows her example, stroking down the ridges of her spine until he finds her arse, caressing over the soft rise until he's got it in his hand.

Edited 2012-09-03 23:37 (UTC)

'Mmmhmm.'

He shifts his head, and she shimmies up a bit higher, searching for that one spot she thinks will unravel him. It's a methodical search, marking her way with hot, wet kisses. (And if it gives him a better grip on her derriere, then isn't she the lucky one?)

'You always this greedy?'

He doesn't sound like he minds. Rather the opposite. He's reaching his other hand over his chest, towards her chest, when her lips find a spot that brings a quiet moan. He didn't mean to. But that was nice. He grips her tighter in return.

'Do that again.'

'Mmmhmm.'

There it is. She does that again, taking a larger mouthful, adding just enough teeth to wake his skin up, and other parts of his anatomy as well.

The whole while, she's pressed tight against his side, her thigh sliding over his until she can pull his leg against her. Heat and pressure, wet friction, touch and more touch, skin against skin. It's good to let him feel her hunger for him. Good to let him see just how much she needs this, too.

The past is receding at pace, drowned by the heat of her skin pressed to his, and the wetness of her mouth sparking his nerves to life. Another quiet grumble of a moan and he's ushering her over to lie on him properly, because he wants to feel her thighs gripping him again. He always enjoys that. It's so promising for what's to come. In the meantime, he draws his fingernails lightly across the base of his abdomen, making sure that Sergeant Rock knows he's expected to report for duty.

'OK like this?'

He's tired, though he doesn't want to have to admit it.

'Oh yes...'

She follows his lead, easing herself into place without lifting her head. All she wants to do is cover him from head to toe, surround him and fill him with nothing but this. A moment later, she hisses quietly against his collarbone as she settles against him, the half-hard heat of his cock meeting the aching flesh between her thighs.

Her voice is rough, pitched low and honey dark against his jaw. 'What was it you said? Ride you like a cowgirl in heat?'

She guides his hands to her hips, her body already starting to move, slow, waves against the shore, telling him again that she intends to fulfill her promises to him. Her teeth fix in his skin, and she moans, the bite melting into another wet kiss.

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