VM drabbles: Several Ways to Make Love (Weevil/Veronica) PG-13
It seems appropriate to post this on Valentine's Day... :)
Title: Several Ways to Make Love
Author: Shealynn
Rating: PG-13 (sexual situations, angst)
Pairings: Weevil/Veronica
Length: 6 related drabbles of 100 words each
Spoilers: none
Summary: Weevil and Veronica, over time. Weevil POV.
Author’s Notes: Written for several_ways, challenge #2: Several Ways to Make Love
Related drabbles are something that has always fascinated me, but this is the first time I've had any kind of success actually writing them. maygra and mandilyn have been my inspiration, as they have both used this technique to create powerful stories.
Traditionally this should be a set of ten drabbles, creating a round story of 1000 words. This didn't cooperate.
They've agreed not to tell anyone.
But everything means more now: every grazing touch and flickering glance is part of a secret language.
Her hand burns his chest when she pushes him playfully in the hallway. The outline of her fingers is like an invisible brand over his heart.
At lunch he walks by her table and she looks up at him, smiling secretly. It feels like she's making love to him-with her eyes and the gentle curve of her mouth-in full view of everyone.
His fingers drift over hers in a silent promise before he walks away.
Their first time is beautiful and imperfect. He learns her body by trial and error: finding the right pace, the right touch, the right pressure to make her keen with desire.
She learns about him, too. She learns that her skin is her ultimate weapon, that her lips can make him forget any wrong, that her fingers, when they wrap around him just so, can make him cry out with reckless abandon.
They learn to fit together seamlessly, and to read each other's silences.
Finally, they learn to fly over the edge together and lie blissfully in each other's arms.
The needles bite endlessly in cathartic torture. It feels right to remember her this way, in this exquisite pain and pleasure of ink over his heart. The constant ache in his soul is nearly unbearable, and he hopes this physical pain will harness it against his body like armor.
When the hawk is done, it has blue eyes and is flying free from the hands that held it.
He tries to believe that she'll come back, but he can't be sure.
He wonders if that last bite of the needle is the last time he will make love to her.
She's not the one he wants, but she's willing and he's trying to forget.
Her fingers are deft and practiced as they flit over his skin, teasing and pressing in the right combination of demand and gentleness. When they make love it's slow and gentle, and then hard and rough, and that's good too.
But when she slides her fingernails under the gauze laid over his new tattoo, he grabs her wrists a little too hard and shakes his head firmly before letting go.
That new symbol is reserved for someone else, the only thing he'll keep for her alone.
He's not quite sure how he got to her door, but he's there, and when she answers he forgets to breathe.
She is everything he remembers and more.
She chats easily about her boyfriend and the unique challenges of college, and how she's made good friends, but none like him.
When he leaves, he kisses her on the forehead, his lips lingering on her warm skin just a few seconds longer than they should, and that small touch is like making love to any other woman, because she still holds his heart and he's only complete when he's touching her.
It's easier than he ever imagined when the time is finally right. They're watching another movie, and she's suddenly closer-her lips on his, her fingers pulling gently at his shirt.
When her tongue traces the bird that's inked on his chest, it burns in an echo of forgotten pain.
It feels like he's home.
They lie together afterward, and her fingers trace the outline of the open hands below the bird.
"What does it mean?" she asks.
"If you love something, let it go," he murmurs.
"I came back," she whispers.
He pulls her against him tightly.
"I know."
Title: Several Ways to Make Love
Author: Shealynn
Rating: PG-13 (sexual situations, angst)
Pairings: Weevil/Veronica
Length: 6 related drabbles of 100 words each
Spoilers: none
Summary: Weevil and Veronica, over time. Weevil POV.
Author’s Notes: Written for several_ways, challenge #2: Several Ways to Make Love
Related drabbles are something that has always fascinated me, but this is the first time I've had any kind of success actually writing them. maygra and mandilyn have been my inspiration, as they have both used this technique to create powerful stories.
Traditionally this should be a set of ten drabbles, creating a round story of 1000 words. This didn't cooperate.
They've agreed not to tell anyone.
But everything means more now: every grazing touch and flickering glance is part of a secret language.
Her hand burns his chest when she pushes him playfully in the hallway. The outline of her fingers is like an invisible brand over his heart.
At lunch he walks by her table and she looks up at him, smiling secretly. It feels like she's making love to him-with her eyes and the gentle curve of her mouth-in full view of everyone.
His fingers drift over hers in a silent promise before he walks away.
Their first time is beautiful and imperfect. He learns her body by trial and error: finding the right pace, the right touch, the right pressure to make her keen with desire.
She learns about him, too. She learns that her skin is her ultimate weapon, that her lips can make him forget any wrong, that her fingers, when they wrap around him just so, can make him cry out with reckless abandon.
They learn to fit together seamlessly, and to read each other's silences.
Finally, they learn to fly over the edge together and lie blissfully in each other's arms.
The needles bite endlessly in cathartic torture. It feels right to remember her this way, in this exquisite pain and pleasure of ink over his heart. The constant ache in his soul is nearly unbearable, and he hopes this physical pain will harness it against his body like armor.
When the hawk is done, it has blue eyes and is flying free from the hands that held it.
He tries to believe that she'll come back, but he can't be sure.
He wonders if that last bite of the needle is the last time he will make love to her.
She's not the one he wants, but she's willing and he's trying to forget.
Her fingers are deft and practiced as they flit over his skin, teasing and pressing in the right combination of demand and gentleness. When they make love it's slow and gentle, and then hard and rough, and that's good too.
But when she slides her fingernails under the gauze laid over his new tattoo, he grabs her wrists a little too hard and shakes his head firmly before letting go.
That new symbol is reserved for someone else, the only thing he'll keep for her alone.
He's not quite sure how he got to her door, but he's there, and when she answers he forgets to breathe.
She is everything he remembers and more.
She chats easily about her boyfriend and the unique challenges of college, and how she's made good friends, but none like him.
When he leaves, he kisses her on the forehead, his lips lingering on her warm skin just a few seconds longer than they should, and that small touch is like making love to any other woman, because she still holds his heart and he's only complete when he's touching her.
It's easier than he ever imagined when the time is finally right. They're watching another movie, and she's suddenly closer-her lips on his, her fingers pulling gently at his shirt.
When her tongue traces the bird that's inked on his chest, it burns in an echo of forgotten pain.
It feels like he's home.
They lie together afterward, and her fingers trace the outline of the open hands below the bird.
"What does it mean?" she asks.
"If you love something, let it go," he murmurs.
"I came back," she whispers.
He pulls her against him tightly.
"I know."