Fic - "Still the world lives on"
Title - Still the World Lives On
Author - Jatam
Rating - R
Pairing - Nathan/Claire
Spoilers/Warnings - Well, its smut people as well as being Nathan/Claire, so underage sex scenes, and incest if you are a stickler for canon. Spoilers Up to 1.23
Summary - When there is nothing left to hold onto, she holds onto him, because he makes her feel whole.
Disclaimer I own nothing. Seriously, ask anyone. Just having some fun while Kring is having a break!
A HUGE thanks to
oops_pig for beta-ing my work for me, and to
cold_queen_5 for the help! I couldn't have done it without her tips.
Written for
no_not_ever , cause she is just too awesome!
Life as she knows it ends on a Wednesday, when the laws of being (and loss) disappear and she is left
standing alone in a cheap motel somewhere outside of San-Fran. But what else can a regenerating cheerleader from Texas possibly hope for?
It starts with a knock on the door, and ends with her broken and weeping, wrapped only in a thin sheet and wondering what wrong she had possible done to deserve her lot in life.
Because the man she sees when she opens the door is dead; she saw him die. She watched him burn.
And yet here he is, largely in tact, though the ravenous look in his eyes tells her that he is broken beneath the surface. Her shock at seeing him again is nothing compared to the shock of his lips on hers and her hands running under his torn shirt and over his chest.
Before her head has time to react to the things her treacherous body is doing, they're both naked and standing before one another as the sun dips below the horizon and his face is cast in heavy shadows. They're close enough that she can feel his breath in her hair, but if she closes her eyes it’s the only indication she has that he is still there. She shivers involuntarily and his arms are wrapped around her in an instant as his lips trace a path over her shoulder and across her neck.
She shivers once more and he scoops her into his arms and carries her over to the bed, laying her down as though she where a doll, precious and fragile and not quiet real. He pulls back to look at her, and at the loss of his touch, the skin on skin contact, the hollow feeling returns. She hates that feeling.
Boldly she reaches for him, and she has either done something very wrong or incredibly right. Need light's his eyes once more but this time there is the hint of something else, something more. She won’t call it desire or lust, because those words are too big, to even and level for the insanity surrounding them. There is a shifting, whether physically or not she can’t be sure, but suddenly the lover's touch is gone and his hands are clutching at her desperately, fingers digging deep into her porcelain skin, creating bruises that will be gone long before he is.
He doesn’t ask if she’s sure, he doesn’t pet her or whisper sweet nothings in her ear and she is relieved and disappointed all at once, because it’s all so right in a situation that’s just so wrong.
All at once he is on her, inside her, and her gasp of surprise, pleasure and pain fills the room as her body tingles as though on fire. He holds her hands above her head with one hand as the other continues it’s assault, carving a path down her side and across her back as he continues to thrust into her, murmuring ‘mine’ as he does, and she is struck by the thought that it is the first thing he has said since entering the room.
Before she can muse on this any further however, she’s tumbling over the edge, with him only moments behind her.
And as quickly as he came, he’s gone once more, and she is left alone with her pain and grief, the heavy scent and mussed bed clothing the only indication he was ever even there.
Life as she knows it ends on a Wednesday, and still the world lives on.