Room 6620, The Morning Of...

[lady_bols]

The evening had passed quietly, with no more talk of promises or commitment, or anything of consequence, really.

She'd tried to fall asleep, but only succeeded in dozing lightly off and on.  Every time he shifted or exhaled too sharply, she'd found herself wide awake.  Hypervigilance, she thought.  Her mind was fixated on the thought that she might miss saying goodbye. He wouldn't dare sneak out on her.  He was a bastard sometimes, but he wasn't exactly heartless.

Well, most of the time.

When the first light of dawn hit the windows, she was already awake, listening to the sound of his breathing.  She debated getting up and laying out his suit for him, but that would mean leaving the warmth of the bed.

'Love?  It's time.'

She knows he's anxious to get back.  A part of her understands, remembering how hard it was those first few days and weeks in Fenchurch, waiting to wake up from the nightmare.  At least he has the option to go home.

Comments

[the_gene_genie]

He sinks into the kiss with a quiet moan; a few seconds later, and he sinks into her, sliding home with practiced ease. He's still kissing her as he fills her, pressing deep, wanting to get as close as he can one last time.

He breaks the kiss to breathe, but doesn't move away. Stays so close their noses slide together; lips just a whisper away from hers. He moves so slowly, it's barely movement at all. Just a silent appreciation of her letting him do this, of how close they can get.

[lady_bols]

Her breath shudders out in a long sigh, and she presses back, her hips curling against his. The pleasure is different this time, not sharp and bright, edged with all the tension of holding back for so long. It's warm, suffusing up through her torso, down her limbs, reminding her that this is what it feels like to be alive.

She moves with him, sinking into that delicious rocking motion, her hands stroking over his back, down his sides and back up again. His scent surrounds her, the vibration of his moans tingling in her skin. All she can do is hold onto this, for as long as he'll let her.

Another kiss, soft and short, because she can. Because he lets her. Because she wants to, above all else.

[the_gene_genie]

He doesn't bother picking the pace up. If this is going to be their last time for...well, God knows how long, then he wants to make it last. So he just closes his eyes, and appreciates the feel of her hands roaming over him, the tension of her legs, the glorious warmth that clenches at him as he moves.

He can't stop - doesn't want to stop - the small noises she pulls from his throat; can't stop his lips touching wherever they can reach. This is still new enough that every time feels like a new exploration, and it's a bit scary because he could still mess everything up, but it's far too good to stay away from.

'Gonna miss this,' he murmurs, against her throat.

'Wish you could come back.'

[lady_bols]

Her head tips back, welcoming the feel of his mouth on the thin skin of her throat. She laughs, and it aches, because she knows she can't, however much she might want to.

'Someone else is in my flat now.' She winds herself around him, her body rocking in gentle counterpoint to his. Her grip tightens fractionally, hands and heels, pleasure shimmering through her, driving away the dark thoughts. He'll be back. He promised.

'We'd -- ah -- have to stay at your place. In that big bed of yours?'