through the eye of the storm [john]
For a moment, John didn't speak. He just looked down into her face and tried to puzzle her out. His eyebrows drew together, his mouth open for a moment while he figured out what the hell he wanted to say.
"Who are you trying to get me to be, Alex?"
He couldn't push away the little knot of worry for her in his chest.
[continued from here]
"Anyone you want," up on her toes, her thumb tracing the sharp rise of cheekbone under wet skin, "that's not what this is about, I promise." She's swaying, leaning against him, her arm still round his neck; what she feels isn't desire so much as pure raw need. Sharp enough to strip her bare, leave her raw and shivering in the cold, and he saw this (he had to have) when he found her in the basement, he hasn't left yet, there's got to be enough there to pull her back to herself.
Her lips brush against his, soft, too bloody gentle but there's no point in coming on any stronger. "Just tell me what it is. Tell me you want me."
"Who are you trying to get me to be, Alex?"
He couldn't push away the little knot of worry for her in his chest.
[continued from here]
"Anyone you want," up on her toes, her thumb tracing the sharp rise of cheekbone under wet skin, "that's not what this is about, I promise." She's swaying, leaning against him, her arm still round his neck; what she feels isn't desire so much as pure raw need. Sharp enough to strip her bare, leave her raw and shivering in the cold, and he saw this (he had to have) when he found her in the basement, he hasn't left yet, there's got to be enough there to pull her back to herself.
Her lips brush against his, soft, too bloody gentle but there's no point in coming on any stronger. "Just tell me what it is. Tell me you want me."