Sometimes I think you want me to touch you
Title: Touch
Pairing: Shannon/Boone,
Rating: Light R
Written for: 30_angsts
Prompt:25. To touch the Devil is to die (~dying from bliss)
You’d think that after an entire adolescence of watching her, wanting her, that I’d be prepared for this.
I’m not. I’m not ready for this, and she knows it too.
It all started out as routine as ever, I had an argument with Nicole about her of all things. It never really takes them long to catch on that they’re all just carbon copies.
They’re all just little dolls that I can manipulate to be just like her. It’s gotten a little easier, to tell you the truth, its so much easier now to close my eyes and pretend they’re her.
They have the hair, the eyes, even the same clothes, but they never measure up to real thing.
Nothing could ever measure up to this. Her hands find their way to my belt as she presses kisses down my throat. I bit back a moan and… I’ve never felt anything like this.
We haven’t even started yet, and all I can think about is how I want to touch her, and how I want her to touch me. Every touch, every kiss, is so soft, light and designed to make me go insane. This is just how I pictured it, well almost anyway.
Shannon hasn’t said anything, not one word. I can't help but think that maybe she'd heard us fighting. Maybe she's finally figured out that they're all her, every single one. I don't know why, but the thought of that doesn't freak me out as much as it should. My cover is blown but, for some reason it's really turning me on.
There's no need to hide now, or hold back. I can just give in but, I have to know.
“Shan,” I murmur against her skin. “God, Shannon. What’s gotten into you?”
“Well, you’re about to,” she says with a smirk as she takes off her dress.
I can’t help thinking that I would rather have done it. That I want to strip everything away and just leave her naked; naked in all senses of the word. I want to know what she’s thinking.
Screw that, I need to know.
I won’t ask, because there’s one thought that keeps replaying over and over in my mind: We don’t need words, never have. I just want to touch her. I’m finally going to, and it just might kill me.
Weird thing is, I just might be okay with that.
Pairing: Shannon/Boone,
Rating: Light R
Written for: 30_angsts
Prompt:25. To touch the Devil is to die (~dying from bliss)
You’d think that after an entire adolescence of watching her, wanting her, that I’d be prepared for this.
I’m not. I’m not ready for this, and she knows it too.
It all started out as routine as ever, I had an argument with Nicole about her of all things. It never really takes them long to catch on that they’re all just carbon copies.
They’re all just little dolls that I can manipulate to be just like her. It’s gotten a little easier, to tell you the truth, its so much easier now to close my eyes and pretend they’re her.
They have the hair, the eyes, even the same clothes, but they never measure up to real thing.
Nothing could ever measure up to this. Her hands find their way to my belt as she presses kisses down my throat. I bit back a moan and… I’ve never felt anything like this.
We haven’t even started yet, and all I can think about is how I want to touch her, and how I want her to touch me. Every touch, every kiss, is so soft, light and designed to make me go insane. This is just how I pictured it, well almost anyway.
Shannon hasn’t said anything, not one word. I can't help but think that maybe she'd heard us fighting. Maybe she's finally figured out that they're all her, every single one. I don't know why, but the thought of that doesn't freak me out as much as it should. My cover is blown but, for some reason it's really turning me on.
There's no need to hide now, or hold back. I can just give in but, I have to know.
“Shan,” I murmur against her skin. “God, Shannon. What’s gotten into you?”
“Well, you’re about to,” she says with a smirk as she takes off her dress.
I can’t help thinking that I would rather have done it. That I want to strip everything away and just leave her naked; naked in all senses of the word. I want to know what she’s thinking.
Screw that, I need to know.
I won’t ask, because there’s one thought that keeps replaying over and over in my mind: We don’t need words, never have. I just want to touch her. I’m finally going to, and it just might kill me.
Weird thing is, I just might be okay with that.