fic: Beauty
Title: Beauty
Author: Jenny aka silentscream821
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A random night, a random conversation, and confessions voiced.
Note: No names here, they could be anybody ♥ Totally inspired by the song Tumble Down by Marcus Foster (and visions of two people, stoned on a bed in a bungalow ;)
Their bodies stretched out across the bed, opposite directions, their cheeks pressed soft and warm against each other. His long legs hung over the edge of the bed while she bent her knees to fit her legs between herself and the headboard. Above them, a fan spun on high, circulating the scent of pot and sticky skin.
He stared at the blades, watched them go round and round, and, if he closed his eyes, he could feel himself lifting off the bed, weightless in her presence.
The room was dark except for the thick candles lit on the nightstand, silent save for the soft whoosh of the fan above.
When he spoke, his voice was hoarse with protest from his lungs. “What are you thinking about?” he asked lowly.
She turned her head slightly towards him and her eyes fluttered open. The candle cast a soft glow on her flawless skin and he swallowed hard, nearly coughing from the dryness of his mouth.
“I was actually thinking...” Her small voice got quiet and trailed off. A faint hint of red flushed her cheeks and he grinned.
“C’mon,” he whispered. “Tell me.”
She sighed softly and he stared at her tongue as she ran it across her lower lip. When she spoke, her words were calculated and honest. “I was just thinking… what if you had like, a mass in your brain that had to be removed. Like, you’re going to die if they don’t take this shit out. But by removing it, you have to lose either your sight or your hearing. What do you give up?”
He stared at her, at the way her pupils grew wider in the dark and the tiny frown that crossed her relaxed face.
“Never mind,” she said, turning her head back towards the fan. “It’s just something I was thinking about.”
He burst out laughing then, a throaty chuckle that he had been trying to hold in but the pot was tricking him, making control near impossible.
“I was serious ass hole,” she said roughly, reaching her hand up to poke him in the side.
“I know, ow, stop it! I know you are love,” he said, his voice returning to its normal scratch. “I just… well, it’s not really that deep of a decision for me.”
She faced him again, this time propping herself up on her elbow, her whole body angling towards him. “Choosing between being blind or deaf is easy for you?”
He mimicked her, rolling to his side to face her, propping his head up in his palm. “No,” he said, all humor lost in his tone. “I would give up my sight a million times before I would consider losing my hearing.”
Her face was still as she listened to him, listened to how quickly he could throw away a gift so beautiful as though it meant nothing to him. He watched her think about his choice, her brows drawn together and her lips pursed in a small pout.
“What?”
“I just- I don’t see how you could decide, like that,” she said, raising her hand from her hip and snapping her fingers to emphasize.
“Are you saying you would rather be deaf than blind?” he asked.
Her face softened and guilt trickled into her wide eyes. “Do you think that’s shallow?”
He shook his head and reached out his hand, cupping her cheek under his rough fingers. “No,” he said. “But… why?”
She smiled goofily at him then and suddenly her eyes were watering. “I just can’t imagine never… never seeing your face again. Of living the rest of my life without seeing something so… beautiful.” She whispered the last word and he felt a tremble down his spine. Surely she was referring to how he’d feel without seeing her.
Her body was moving again as she rotated herself around, her face right side up in his vision, her hips pressed just softly into his. She reached out, her shaky fingers brushing along his stubbly jaw, tracing patterns back and forth from his lips to his hair, before finally reaching back into his hair and tugging softly. “Fuck, I am shallow,” she said, laughing softly.
He inched forward and pressed his lips against her forehead. He inhaled the sweet scent of her hair and kept his nose pressed against her forehead while he spoke. “You are not,” he said firmly. He cupped one hand behind her neck while the other traveled down her arm, her skin rising in prickly bumps in his wake.
She pressed her nose into the space beneath his jaw, skimming his collarbone. He sighed then, happy to have her in his arms, happy to see her and hear her and feel her.
“Why blindness?” she questioned him, her voice muffled by his skin.
He felt something in his chest constrict as he considered the other possibility. “I could never, ever live without hearing music,” he said quietly. He squeezed the back of her neck and her hip softly, pulling her closer against him. “And for me, I don’t have to see you to see your beauty. I hear it in your voice, everyday. When we’re apart, when I listen to you on the phone… when I can convince you to play me a song… I hear your beauty.”
He took a deep breath and he felt the hot, wet tears of hers against his skin.
“And you sound more beautiful to me than a million sunsets, more magnificent than the greatest lightning storm, more… well, fuck, you get the point.”
She shifted then, her hands finding the sides of his face and pulling him down to meet her lips. It was a hot, salty kiss, with her tears dripping down on their lips as he tried desperately to kiss them away.
When she pulled away to breathe, he felt less high, more grounded. “I’m sorry,” he said, his lips sliding into a smile. “I didn’t mean to kill the high.”
She laughed then and pressed herself back beneath his jaw, her hands wrapping around him and her legs twining themselves between his.
“Let’s just be happy we can see and hear and touch each other, ok?” she whispered.
He would be happy to, he thought, burying his face in her hair.
It was a while before someone spoke again.
“I love you,” she confessed to his skin.
He answered with a low grumble in his chest, his breath heavy and his mind very deeply asleep. They had clung to each other so tightly; their heartbeats had lulled him to sleep. It was ok that he didn’t hear though, she thought. Some truths were better saved for the darkness.
Author: Jenny aka silentscream821
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A random night, a random conversation, and confessions voiced.
Note: No names here, they could be anybody ♥ Totally inspired by the song Tumble Down by Marcus Foster (and visions of two people, stoned on a bed in a bungalow ;)
Click to viewTheir bodies stretched out across the bed, opposite directions, their cheeks pressed soft and warm against each other. His long legs hung over the edge of the bed while she bent her knees to fit her legs between herself and the headboard. Above them, a fan spun on high, circulating the scent of pot and sticky skin.
He stared at the blades, watched them go round and round, and, if he closed his eyes, he could feel himself lifting off the bed, weightless in her presence.
The room was dark except for the thick candles lit on the nightstand, silent save for the soft whoosh of the fan above.
When he spoke, his voice was hoarse with protest from his lungs. “What are you thinking about?” he asked lowly.
She turned her head slightly towards him and her eyes fluttered open. The candle cast a soft glow on her flawless skin and he swallowed hard, nearly coughing from the dryness of his mouth.
“I was actually thinking...” Her small voice got quiet and trailed off. A faint hint of red flushed her cheeks and he grinned.
“C’mon,” he whispered. “Tell me.”
She sighed softly and he stared at her tongue as she ran it across her lower lip. When she spoke, her words were calculated and honest. “I was just thinking… what if you had like, a mass in your brain that had to be removed. Like, you’re going to die if they don’t take this shit out. But by removing it, you have to lose either your sight or your hearing. What do you give up?”
He stared at her, at the way her pupils grew wider in the dark and the tiny frown that crossed her relaxed face.
“Never mind,” she said, turning her head back towards the fan. “It’s just something I was thinking about.”
He burst out laughing then, a throaty chuckle that he had been trying to hold in but the pot was tricking him, making control near impossible.
“I was serious ass hole,” she said roughly, reaching her hand up to poke him in the side.
“I know, ow, stop it! I know you are love,” he said, his voice returning to its normal scratch. “I just… well, it’s not really that deep of a decision for me.”
She faced him again, this time propping herself up on her elbow, her whole body angling towards him. “Choosing between being blind or deaf is easy for you?”
He mimicked her, rolling to his side to face her, propping his head up in his palm. “No,” he said, all humor lost in his tone. “I would give up my sight a million times before I would consider losing my hearing.”
Her face was still as she listened to him, listened to how quickly he could throw away a gift so beautiful as though it meant nothing to him. He watched her think about his choice, her brows drawn together and her lips pursed in a small pout.
“What?”
“I just- I don’t see how you could decide, like that,” she said, raising her hand from her hip and snapping her fingers to emphasize.
“Are you saying you would rather be deaf than blind?” he asked.
Her face softened and guilt trickled into her wide eyes. “Do you think that’s shallow?”
He shook his head and reached out his hand, cupping her cheek under his rough fingers. “No,” he said. “But… why?”
She smiled goofily at him then and suddenly her eyes were watering. “I just can’t imagine never… never seeing your face again. Of living the rest of my life without seeing something so… beautiful.” She whispered the last word and he felt a tremble down his spine. Surely she was referring to how he’d feel without seeing her.
Her body was moving again as she rotated herself around, her face right side up in his vision, her hips pressed just softly into his. She reached out, her shaky fingers brushing along his stubbly jaw, tracing patterns back and forth from his lips to his hair, before finally reaching back into his hair and tugging softly. “Fuck, I am shallow,” she said, laughing softly.
He inched forward and pressed his lips against her forehead. He inhaled the sweet scent of her hair and kept his nose pressed against her forehead while he spoke. “You are not,” he said firmly. He cupped one hand behind her neck while the other traveled down her arm, her skin rising in prickly bumps in his wake.
She pressed her nose into the space beneath his jaw, skimming his collarbone. He sighed then, happy to have her in his arms, happy to see her and hear her and feel her.
“Why blindness?” she questioned him, her voice muffled by his skin.
He felt something in his chest constrict as he considered the other possibility. “I could never, ever live without hearing music,” he said quietly. He squeezed the back of her neck and her hip softly, pulling her closer against him. “And for me, I don’t have to see you to see your beauty. I hear it in your voice, everyday. When we’re apart, when I listen to you on the phone… when I can convince you to play me a song… I hear your beauty.”
He took a deep breath and he felt the hot, wet tears of hers against his skin.
“And you sound more beautiful to me than a million sunsets, more magnificent than the greatest lightning storm, more… well, fuck, you get the point.”
She shifted then, her hands finding the sides of his face and pulling him down to meet her lips. It was a hot, salty kiss, with her tears dripping down on their lips as he tried desperately to kiss them away.
When she pulled away to breathe, he felt less high, more grounded. “I’m sorry,” he said, his lips sliding into a smile. “I didn’t mean to kill the high.”
She laughed then and pressed herself back beneath his jaw, her hands wrapping around him and her legs twining themselves between his.
“Let’s just be happy we can see and hear and touch each other, ok?” she whispered.
He would be happy to, he thought, burying his face in her hair.
It was a while before someone spoke again.
“I love you,” she confessed to his skin.
He answered with a low grumble in his chest, his breath heavy and his mind very deeply asleep. They had clung to each other so tightly; their heartbeats had lulled him to sleep. It was ok that he didn’t hear though, she thought. Some truths were better saved for the darkness.