Pipe Dream
Title: Pipe Dream
Author: wrldpossibility
Characters: Sara Tancredi, Michael Scofield
Word Count: 248 (double drabble and a half?)
Rating: PG-13 (for suggestion)
Spoilers: none
Summary: It’s odd, the tricks the subconscious mind can play.
Author's Note: Written for the Double Dirty Drabbles challenge at pbhiatus_fic. Set in mid-S1.
She’s sinking.
Into sand? Or a bed…or perhaps that’s just her own bed she feels beneath her shoulder blades, fighting for prominence somewhere in the back of her mind, because she knows she’s dreaming, but it’s one of those dreams from which she seems to hover just off center, unable--or unwilling--to awaken. He’s bent over her, and then shifts on top of her, arms braced on either side of her head, not overpowering her, exactly, but causing her heart to race all the same.
She‘s only vaguely alarmed. Mostly, she’s accepting. And willing. And deeply aroused.
Long after she wakes, showers, pours coffee, the dream stays with her. She knows without a shadow of a doubt that it was him with her, and yet…they hadn’t been in her infirmary. They’d been somewhere significantly warmer in both temperature and atmosphere…a beach? A boat? And when she had turned her head on the pillow, the flesh of his bicep had been bare. Bare not as in unclothed, although that, too, but bare as in blank…a plane of unmarred skin, void of ink.
It’s odd, the tricks the subconscious mind can play.
Her entire day at work, she fights to remain merely at surface-level, distracted, unaffected, burying his file under a dozen others on her desk, but still she feels an uneasy sense that her subconscious remains unleashed in some alternate universe, loping ahead of her current life, urging her to keep up.
She worries she’s already in over her head.
Author: wrldpossibility
Characters: Sara Tancredi, Michael Scofield
Word Count: 248 (double drabble and a half?)
Rating: PG-13 (for suggestion)
Spoilers: none
Summary: It’s odd, the tricks the subconscious mind can play.
Author's Note: Written for the Double Dirty Drabbles challenge at pbhiatus_fic. Set in mid-S1.
She’s sinking.
Into sand? Or a bed…or perhaps that’s just her own bed she feels beneath her shoulder blades, fighting for prominence somewhere in the back of her mind, because she knows she’s dreaming, but it’s one of those dreams from which she seems to hover just off center, unable--or unwilling--to awaken. He’s bent over her, and then shifts on top of her, arms braced on either side of her head, not overpowering her, exactly, but causing her heart to race all the same.
She‘s only vaguely alarmed. Mostly, she’s accepting. And willing. And deeply aroused.
Long after she wakes, showers, pours coffee, the dream stays with her. She knows without a shadow of a doubt that it was him with her, and yet…they hadn’t been in her infirmary. They’d been somewhere significantly warmer in both temperature and atmosphere…a beach? A boat? And when she had turned her head on the pillow, the flesh of his bicep had been bare. Bare not as in unclothed, although that, too, but bare as in blank…a plane of unmarred skin, void of ink.
It’s odd, the tricks the subconscious mind can play.
Her entire day at work, she fights to remain merely at surface-level, distracted, unaffected, burying his file under a dozen others on her desk, but still she feels an uneasy sense that her subconscious remains unleashed in some alternate universe, loping ahead of her current life, urging her to keep up.
She worries she’s already in over her head.