fic: love in the time of science
love in the time of science | sheldon/penny, light R, 345 |
Sheldon likens himself to Christopher Columbus, an explorer of an undiscovered world, O my America, my new found land. Love is the uncharted territory and he throws himself into its study like it were any other science, and in many ways it was.
Their kisses are an endless push and pull, her every response matching his; it’s Newton’s 3rd Law, action and reaction, though in no terms he has ever thought of before. Her fingertips are a mass of whorls and spirals that run along his skin exciting the synapses lying just underneath. An inverse slope connects shoulder and neck, her shoulder the asymptote which he marks with his teeth. He traces the swell of her breasts with his fingertips and they are perfect as any parabola. The shell of her ear is a helix whose secrets he teases out with his lips while the curve of her body changes constantly under his hands, like a waveform living and breathing beneath him as she arches into his touch.
It is algebra, pure and simple: find the value of x, x being the action that makes her moan like that again. He knows the words for these things (muscles contracting, heart rate increasing, pupils dilating), but knows none to describe the way he feels when Penny tightens her legs around his hips and says his name, breathless and wanting. When he pushes inside her it holds all the wonder of two molecules fitting together, bound and never to part. Enzyme and substrate, key and lock. No other woman would do; Penny was his perfect fit.
She is a discovery as great as any he has ever made and yet when he covers the expanse of her body with his own, not conqueror but surveyor, strangely it is he who feels discovered. The reasons for this are mysterious to him but Sheldon has his theories and, like with his work and all the other things he cares for and loves, it is nothing he is not willing to spend the rest of his life trying to prove.
Sheldon likens himself to Christopher Columbus, an explorer of an undiscovered world, O my America, my new found land. Love is the uncharted territory and he throws himself into its study like it were any other science, and in many ways it was.
Their kisses are an endless push and pull, her every response matching his; it’s Newton’s 3rd Law, action and reaction, though in no terms he has ever thought of before. Her fingertips are a mass of whorls and spirals that run along his skin exciting the synapses lying just underneath. An inverse slope connects shoulder and neck, her shoulder the asymptote which he marks with his teeth. He traces the swell of her breasts with his fingertips and they are perfect as any parabola. The shell of her ear is a helix whose secrets he teases out with his lips while the curve of her body changes constantly under his hands, like a waveform living and breathing beneath him as she arches into his touch.
It is algebra, pure and simple: find the value of x, x being the action that makes her moan like that again. He knows the words for these things (muscles contracting, heart rate increasing, pupils dilating), but knows none to describe the way he feels when Penny tightens her legs around his hips and says his name, breathless and wanting. When he pushes inside her it holds all the wonder of two molecules fitting together, bound and never to part. Enzyme and substrate, key and lock. No other woman would do; Penny was his perfect fit.
She is a discovery as great as any he has ever made and yet when he covers the expanse of her body with his own, not conqueror but surveyor, strangely it is he who feels discovered. The reasons for this are mysterious to him but Sheldon has his theories and, like with his work and all the other things he cares for and loves, it is nothing he is not willing to spend the rest of his life trying to prove.