Fic: Vocabulary
Title: Vocabulary
Summary: Rory can't explain.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 271
Rating/Contents: NC-17, excessively purple prose
Pairing: Amy/River/Rory
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: See? I said I'd write something happy.
Rory wouldn't be able to talk about it later, which didn't matter, because no one was asking, though he kind of really wanted someone to. All he had was his poor, vulgar vocabulary, words that didn't match up to how it actually was. There wasn't a way for him to describe the way it felt when River kissed him, the pleasure and fear mixed together, his body focused on River's and his eyes on Amy's. Or the tense relief when Amy took his hand and pressed their lips together, her kisses nothing like River's at all except that they were both so insistent.
All the words he had were cruel, small, picked up on playgrounds and in pubs, and none of them fit at all with how beautiful it all was, the feeling of their hands exploring his body, the way Amy looked when River pushed her clever, clever fingers inside her, making her throw her head back and gasp. He only had crude and cold language to explain the way it felt when River slid down around him as he worked his tongue over Amy's soft, wet folds, their bodies like one unit, one lovely organism growing towards pleasure like a plant towards the sun. His words were only meant to belittle and harm, none of them fit to praise with, to praise the brief, eternal moment when he felt it all rush over and out of him, to sing of Amy's smile afterwards, her warm hand in his.
But he really, really wanted to tell somebody about it.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/314728.html.
comments over there.
Summary: Rory can't explain.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 271
Rating/Contents: NC-17, excessively purple prose
Pairing: Amy/River/Rory
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: See? I said I'd write something happy.
Rory wouldn't be able to talk about it later, which didn't matter, because no one was asking, though he kind of really wanted someone to. All he had was his poor, vulgar vocabulary, words that didn't match up to how it actually was. There wasn't a way for him to describe the way it felt when River kissed him, the pleasure and fear mixed together, his body focused on River's and his eyes on Amy's. Or the tense relief when Amy took his hand and pressed their lips together, her kisses nothing like River's at all except that they were both so insistent.
All the words he had were cruel, small, picked up on playgrounds and in pubs, and none of them fit at all with how beautiful it all was, the feeling of their hands exploring his body, the way Amy looked when River pushed her clever, clever fingers inside her, making her throw her head back and gasp. He only had crude and cold language to explain the way it felt when River slid down around him as he worked his tongue over Amy's soft, wet folds, their bodies like one unit, one lovely organism growing towards pleasure like a plant towards the sun. His words were only meant to belittle and harm, none of them fit to praise with, to praise the brief, eternal moment when he felt it all rush over and out of him, to sing of Amy's smile afterwards, her warm hand in his.
But he really, really wanted to tell somebody about it.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/314728.html.
comments over there.