fic: under starry skies
word:knapsack
rating: pg17
title: under starry skies
I enjoy writing these ficlets of Cam/Scout, no matter how cheesy they may seem. I want to built a solid relationship without it being so girly or one-sided.
warning, no quotation marks. deal with it.
under starry skies
Wyoming. Night, the stars dot the sky like diamonds, the moon shining blue and silver over the plains, over their bodies.
The truck is parked in the middle of a field, about a mile from the road. They hear the cars faintly, an eighteen-wheeler that passes at three am, a cop car with the siren.
They lie on a futon mattress spread on the bed of the truck. The summer air is thick, heavy with humidity in their lungs. A thin layer of sweat on their skin, Scout wears her hair back, out of her face, off her neck. Cam is shirtless, scratching his belly, taking a sip from the bottle of Jack they pass between the two of them.
How many people have you slept with? She asks lazily, licking her lips, crossing one leg over the other, kicking her left foot.
Seriously?
Yeah.
He squirms, sits up slightly, leaning his back against the warm metal and glass of the truck. I dunno. He runs a hand through his hair. Fifteen, twenty, something like that.
Almost ten years on the road as a drifter, solace is only found in the arms pretty girls with daddy issues or of women thankful that their children are safe, that they can finally breathe.
Scout sits up too, stretching out her long legs, toeing the sheet on the mattress. She holds her breath and watches a shooting star.
What about you? He asks, tilting his head to face her. His eyes look almost black in this light, his skin pale, but she can’t see the freckles.
She answers without hesitation, Five.
Riley her first, Ben in college, Jimmy the bassist, Cam, and Al the copyeditor; then back to Cam, she thinks that it’s always going to be just Cam.
Does it bother you?
No.
She sips, then puts the cap back on the bottle, stuffing it into the knapsack wedged between her jeans and the tire. Another shooting star and she makes a wish, closes her eyes and counts to twelve before crawling over Cam, resting her knees on either side of his hips. His hands find her hips.
I gotta meet Mitch in the morning, he says almost sadly, keeping his gaze down.
For how long? She scoots higher up his thighs.
He shrugs, finally looks up, a bit of a liquid shine to his eyes. Couple of days, weeks maybe.
She grins and runs a finger behind his ear. I think I can manage a while without you. She’d spent years going solo, or a duo with just her brother, then her cousin.
He chuckles. You really think so?
Oh some how, I’ll make it through. She throws back her head, her long neck exposed. He leans forward and kisses her skin, running his teeth against the throbbing vein. His lips move down towards that sweet spot between her collar bones, the center of her throat and she giggles, shirking inward a bit.
I love your laugh, he says, sincere. His hands moving over her hips, nails raking over her thighs, then her lower back, scarping along her tattoo.
Oh yeah? Her voice quiets and she tilts her head down, stray hairs flying every which way.
Absolutely. He thrusts his hips upward, inciting another giggle. He holds her tighter around the waist.
You’ll miss me though, right? She whispers. The drink quivering in her throat, making her tongue numb, her fingers tingle.
He answers with his lips, tugging on her hair, letting loose and cascade over her shoulders. Even though it’s too hot, she’s sweating gallons by the time he flips her over, kisses down her belly, licking her salty skin, and nudging her legs apart. He leaves a hickey on her inner thigh, a purple bite mark on the underside of her breast. Marks that she will touch and marvel at in the mirror days after he’s gone, press into the tender flesh as a reminder.
Will you miss me? He asks after, as she lies on her stomach, naked. He runs his fingers alone her spine, in between each bone, the space between her shoulder blades, along the nape of her neck, sending goosebumps all over her skin despite the heat. He’s on his side, propping himself up with his left hand.
She doesn’t think a woman has ever missed him longer than a few nights; maybe his high school girlfriend, or the other girl who managed to capture his heart for six months. Like him, she answers with actions, places a hand on the side of his face, running her thumb under his eye.
The moon moves across the sky, a breeze finally sweeps across the prairie, ruffles her hair.
Even without the liquor his eyes shine, a soft hazel. She leans forward and kisses him, the sweet mixture of whiskey and arousal on his tongue.
Absolutely.
.end
rating: pg17
title: under starry skies
I enjoy writing these ficlets of Cam/Scout, no matter how cheesy they may seem. I want to built a solid relationship without it being so girly or one-sided.
warning, no quotation marks. deal with it.
under starry skies
Wyoming. Night, the stars dot the sky like diamonds, the moon shining blue and silver over the plains, over their bodies.
The truck is parked in the middle of a field, about a mile from the road. They hear the cars faintly, an eighteen-wheeler that passes at three am, a cop car with the siren.
They lie on a futon mattress spread on the bed of the truck. The summer air is thick, heavy with humidity in their lungs. A thin layer of sweat on their skin, Scout wears her hair back, out of her face, off her neck. Cam is shirtless, scratching his belly, taking a sip from the bottle of Jack they pass between the two of them.
How many people have you slept with? She asks lazily, licking her lips, crossing one leg over the other, kicking her left foot.
Seriously?
Yeah.
He squirms, sits up slightly, leaning his back against the warm metal and glass of the truck. I dunno. He runs a hand through his hair. Fifteen, twenty, something like that.
Almost ten years on the road as a drifter, solace is only found in the arms pretty girls with daddy issues or of women thankful that their children are safe, that they can finally breathe.
Scout sits up too, stretching out her long legs, toeing the sheet on the mattress. She holds her breath and watches a shooting star.
What about you? He asks, tilting his head to face her. His eyes look almost black in this light, his skin pale, but she can’t see the freckles.
She answers without hesitation, Five.
Riley her first, Ben in college, Jimmy the bassist, Cam, and Al the copyeditor; then back to Cam, she thinks that it’s always going to be just Cam.
Does it bother you?
No.
She sips, then puts the cap back on the bottle, stuffing it into the knapsack wedged between her jeans and the tire. Another shooting star and she makes a wish, closes her eyes and counts to twelve before crawling over Cam, resting her knees on either side of his hips. His hands find her hips.
I gotta meet Mitch in the morning, he says almost sadly, keeping his gaze down.
For how long? She scoots higher up his thighs.
He shrugs, finally looks up, a bit of a liquid shine to his eyes. Couple of days, weeks maybe.
She grins and runs a finger behind his ear. I think I can manage a while without you. She’d spent years going solo, or a duo with just her brother, then her cousin.
He chuckles. You really think so?
Oh some how, I’ll make it through. She throws back her head, her long neck exposed. He leans forward and kisses her skin, running his teeth against the throbbing vein. His lips move down towards that sweet spot between her collar bones, the center of her throat and she giggles, shirking inward a bit.
I love your laugh, he says, sincere. His hands moving over her hips, nails raking over her thighs, then her lower back, scarping along her tattoo.
Oh yeah? Her voice quiets and she tilts her head down, stray hairs flying every which way.
Absolutely. He thrusts his hips upward, inciting another giggle. He holds her tighter around the waist.
You’ll miss me though, right? She whispers. The drink quivering in her throat, making her tongue numb, her fingers tingle.
He answers with his lips, tugging on her hair, letting loose and cascade over her shoulders. Even though it’s too hot, she’s sweating gallons by the time he flips her over, kisses down her belly, licking her salty skin, and nudging her legs apart. He leaves a hickey on her inner thigh, a purple bite mark on the underside of her breast. Marks that she will touch and marvel at in the mirror days after he’s gone, press into the tender flesh as a reminder.
Will you miss me? He asks after, as she lies on her stomach, naked. He runs his fingers alone her spine, in between each bone, the space between her shoulder blades, along the nape of her neck, sending goosebumps all over her skin despite the heat. He’s on his side, propping himself up with his left hand.
She doesn’t think a woman has ever missed him longer than a few nights; maybe his high school girlfriend, or the other girl who managed to capture his heart for six months. Like him, she answers with actions, places a hand on the side of his face, running her thumb under his eye.
The moon moves across the sky, a breeze finally sweeps across the prairie, ruffles her hair.
Even without the liquor his eyes shine, a soft hazel. She leans forward and kisses him, the sweet mixture of whiskey and arousal on his tongue.
Absolutely.
.end