An Endless Whispered Prayer (Sweeney Todd, Sweeney/Nellie, #29)
Title: An Endless Whispered Prayer
Author: hlfbldprincess
Pairing: Sweeney Todd/Nellie Lovett
Rating: T
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Prompt: 30 Kisses #29: sound of waves; fanfic50 #35: drugged.
Word Count: 382
Disclaimer: All I own is a computer.
Summary: Nellie dwells in dreams.
His hair tickling her skin, his lips playing across the back of her neck at his leisure, his fingers unknotting the laces of her corset just as lackadaisically, knowing he does not have to rush, knowing that there is no rush and that she will wait, and content with that fact . . .
Her layers of clothing falling to the ground one by one, melting from her body like snow, dissolving from her physique and from her thought, her body blazing from the inside out as if she had swallowed a ray of sun . . .
His hands settling against her bare form and lifting her into his arms, his feet treading across the room, his body bending to lay her across their mattress as softly as a delicate doll, or as reverently as an alter offering . . .
His body straightening, his eyes gazing down at her supine form with all the veneration due the offering - with all the love due a soul mate . . .
His body lowering upon hers to worship as he is meant to before taking, fingers reverencing, breath adoring, eyes thanking, lips molding in endless whispered prayer: ". . . I love you, I love you, I love you, Nellie Todd . . ."
Their bodies meeting to the sound of the waves outside their window, crashing softly against the shore then murmuring away in retreat, steady, constant, smooth, perfect . . .
Then she wakes up.
She wants to fall back asleep and return to the dream, but can't.
She doesn't want to cry into her pillow, but does.
Not much of a loss, she figures, not being able to fall back into slumber. After all, what's the use of continuing to hope and dream for what can never be? After all, how can she criticize him for living in a world that doesn't exist - a world where justice can be served and happiness reached just by slaughtering some nameless men - if she doesn't live in a world that exists either?
Tomorrow, of course, she knows that is precisely what she will resume doing. She knows how to survive no other way.
She is just as dependent on the drug of a fabled reality as her barber.
And just as intoxicated.
Author: hlfbldprincess
Pairing: Sweeney Todd/Nellie Lovett
Rating: T
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Prompt: 30 Kisses #29: sound of waves; fanfic50 #35: drugged.
Word Count: 382
Disclaimer: All I own is a computer.
Summary: Nellie dwells in dreams.
His hair tickling her skin, his lips playing across the back of her neck at his leisure, his fingers unknotting the laces of her corset just as lackadaisically, knowing he does not have to rush, knowing that there is no rush and that she will wait, and content with that fact . . .
Her layers of clothing falling to the ground one by one, melting from her body like snow, dissolving from her physique and from her thought, her body blazing from the inside out as if she had swallowed a ray of sun . . .
His hands settling against her bare form and lifting her into his arms, his feet treading across the room, his body bending to lay her across their mattress as softly as a delicate doll, or as reverently as an alter offering . . .
His body straightening, his eyes gazing down at her supine form with all the veneration due the offering - with all the love due a soul mate . . .
His body lowering upon hers to worship as he is meant to before taking, fingers reverencing, breath adoring, eyes thanking, lips molding in endless whispered prayer: ". . . I love you, I love you, I love you, Nellie Todd . . ."
Their bodies meeting to the sound of the waves outside their window, crashing softly against the shore then murmuring away in retreat, steady, constant, smooth, perfect . . .
Then she wakes up.
She wants to fall back asleep and return to the dream, but can't.
She doesn't want to cry into her pillow, but does.
Not much of a loss, she figures, not being able to fall back into slumber. After all, what's the use of continuing to hope and dream for what can never be? After all, how can she criticize him for living in a world that doesn't exist - a world where justice can be served and happiness reached just by slaughtering some nameless men - if she doesn't live in a world that exists either?
Tomorrow, of course, she knows that is precisely what she will resume doing. She knows how to survive no other way.
She is just as dependent on the drug of a fabled reality as her barber.
And just as intoxicated.