FIC: Nightly Light
Title: Nightly Light
Rating: PG(-13?)
Pairing: R/S
Word count: 417
Disclaimer: I disclaim.
Nightly Light
He has never realised before how skin could look in the nightly light, filtered by the thin bluish curtains. He reaches out a tentative hand and runs over the smooth surface with his index finger, then looks at the finger tip to see if there are any traces of the paint. There aren’t, and he decides it isn’t paint after all. It is pure silver.
Some time later, he watches with wide child’s eyes as the man besides him slowly stretches and gets up. His movements remind him of a panther and he feels so terribly cliché, but he can’t find any better, or more precise, comparison. It is fascinating how the mussed black strands fall onto the shoulders, and he remembers how they felt between his fingers that clenched with every move. He shivers.
He can’t help feeling disappointed as the silvery line of the back disappears from his sight, covered with dark cloth. It is only then that he closes his eyes, and yes! There it is, again, under the eyelids. He can hear a smile hanging in the air. Reluctantly he opens his eyes and is rewarded with the little wrinkles around the corners of the smiling mouth. He decides to keep his eyes open for now.
The movement towards him should spark some reaction, but no. He waits motionless until the tall figure bends over him. For a brief moment he can see the metallic glint, mostly hidden in the long shadows cast by the lashes. Perhaps he can’t really see it, he just knows it is there. Then all thoughts are drowned by the warm taste, almost familiar by now, and he welcomes it with trust and relief.
He can still feel the heat coursing in his veins when he watches the shape slide out of the room, and suddenly he understands why the shape didn’t simply vanish. It must have been material to make his skin tingle like this.
He turns on his side to gaze at the window before he drifts off to sleep, to sate his eyes with the eerie light filtered by the thin bluish curtains. He doesn’t feel lonely, curled into the scent. He touches his smiling lips with the finger that should have been tinted with the silver paint, and his eyelids droop.
Remus smiles at the black-circled eyes of his morning reflection, and he doesn’t need to struggle to remember. He just doesn't understand why he can’t trace the familiar scent on his tangled sheets.
November 12th 2006
Rating: PG(-13?)
Pairing: R/S
Word count: 417
Disclaimer: I disclaim.
Nightly Light
He has never realised before how skin could look in the nightly light, filtered by the thin bluish curtains. He reaches out a tentative hand and runs over the smooth surface with his index finger, then looks at the finger tip to see if there are any traces of the paint. There aren’t, and he decides it isn’t paint after all. It is pure silver.
Some time later, he watches with wide child’s eyes as the man besides him slowly stretches and gets up. His movements remind him of a panther and he feels so terribly cliché, but he can’t find any better, or more precise, comparison. It is fascinating how the mussed black strands fall onto the shoulders, and he remembers how they felt between his fingers that clenched with every move. He shivers.
He can’t help feeling disappointed as the silvery line of the back disappears from his sight, covered with dark cloth. It is only then that he closes his eyes, and yes! There it is, again, under the eyelids. He can hear a smile hanging in the air. Reluctantly he opens his eyes and is rewarded with the little wrinkles around the corners of the smiling mouth. He decides to keep his eyes open for now.
The movement towards him should spark some reaction, but no. He waits motionless until the tall figure bends over him. For a brief moment he can see the metallic glint, mostly hidden in the long shadows cast by the lashes. Perhaps he can’t really see it, he just knows it is there. Then all thoughts are drowned by the warm taste, almost familiar by now, and he welcomes it with trust and relief.
He can still feel the heat coursing in his veins when he watches the shape slide out of the room, and suddenly he understands why the shape didn’t simply vanish. It must have been material to make his skin tingle like this.
He turns on his side to gaze at the window before he drifts off to sleep, to sate his eyes with the eerie light filtered by the thin bluish curtains. He doesn’t feel lonely, curled into the scent. He touches his smiling lips with the finger that should have been tinted with the silver paint, and his eyelids droop.
Remus smiles at the black-circled eyes of his morning reflection, and he doesn’t need to struggle to remember. He just doesn't understand why he can’t trace the familiar scent on his tangled sheets.
November 12th 2006