Day 14: Biggles: La Langue est Muette
Title: La Langue est Muette
Author: temaris
Fandom: Biggles
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Marie Janis
Summary: Marie has faith.
A/N: Something of a radical reinterpretation of the available texts :-)
He will come after her. He'd been so strong, so quick of understanding. She remembers his fine features, those clear, intelligent hazel eyes softened with affection. Such a beautiful man, not at all what she had expected of an Englishman; brash, redfaced, clumsy and oafish. Nothing like her James, so pale and lovely, tender with urgent love. So volatile; so dangerous; so foolishly in love.
He won't forget. All the promises they never made. He'll never forget.
She cups herself, a little smile on her lips. Maybe they will find a way to be together again, and she lets herself slide into impossible daydreams, her own knight on a winged steed finding and saving her... and then laughs, a little bitter. Better to pretend that she has no heart, to just remember the glide and movement, the careful push of his body against hers.
She pulls past into present until she is moving restlessly, pressing up into her hand as eagerly as she had with his body warm above her. She slides a finger, two fingers, inside. It's not the same, but she smiles anyway. It's a different kind of good, familiar and sweet for the very familiarity of it. The heel of her hand rubs over and over her mons and she sighs happily, letting it take her away from wars and loss and orders. Perhaps she carries his child. A future encapsulated in her own womb. It's a sweet thought and carries her across the boundary to sleep.
Author: temaris
Fandom: Biggles
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Marie Janis
Summary: Marie has faith.
A/N: Something of a radical reinterpretation of the available texts :-)
He will come after her. He'd been so strong, so quick of understanding. She remembers his fine features, those clear, intelligent hazel eyes softened with affection. Such a beautiful man, not at all what she had expected of an Englishman; brash, redfaced, clumsy and oafish. Nothing like her James, so pale and lovely, tender with urgent love. So volatile; so dangerous; so foolishly in love.
He won't forget. All the promises they never made. He'll never forget.
She cups herself, a little smile on her lips. Maybe they will find a way to be together again, and she lets herself slide into impossible daydreams, her own knight on a winged steed finding and saving her... and then laughs, a little bitter. Better to pretend that she has no heart, to just remember the glide and movement, the careful push of his body against hers.
She pulls past into present until she is moving restlessly, pressing up into her hand as eagerly as she had with his body warm above her. She slides a finger, two fingers, inside. It's not the same, but she smiles anyway. It's a different kind of good, familiar and sweet for the very familiarity of it. The heel of her hand rubs over and over her mons and she sighs happily, letting it take her away from wars and loss and orders. Perhaps she carries his child. A future encapsulated in her own womb. It's a sweet thought and carries her across the boundary to sleep.