Please forget about the travesty I posted yesterday
Thema 7: Mondschein
Zeitraum: Marco and Anne's first (only?) night together in Germany
Wörter: 1032
Was she asleep yet? Marco estimated it had been a good twenty minutes since she'd said anything, and her breathing sounded regular. With extreme caution, the superhuman opened one eye just enough to look over at the woman beside him.
She was laying on her side with her back to him, her body gently moving up and down with every breath. The sheets had slipped down to her hip, and the moonlight shining on her silvery negligee and white skin almost made her seem to glow. Her short black hair was somewhat mussed from rolling over, but with one careful, gentle hand, Marco smoothed it back down.
"Anne?" he whispered. She didn't say anything. Good, she was definitely asleep.
Very carefully, he slipped one arm beneath the curve of her waist, and the other under the swell of her breasts. Taking care not to wake her up, Marco pulled her petite body towards him until he felt the silky fabric of her negligee against his chest, and the tickle of her hair under his chin. The German girl let out a soft sigh, but made no other sign of waking.
The Irishman closed his eyes and squeezed her gently. She felt soft and warm in his arms, and although her small frame made her resemble an oversized porcelain doll, there was something very solid and real about her.
Was it the children she carried? Marco moved one hand over the bump on her stomach. On the ultrasound, his offspring resembled tadpoles, one just a little larger than the other. Anne thought that might be the one who communicated with them, because his brain was likely more developed.
Marco smiled. "His." Were she awake, surely the German would have a retort for the assumption that their more vocal child would be a son. And while Marco would be happy even if Anne gave birth to twin girls, he couldn't hide the fact that he truly did want a boy of his own. Or maybe even two. One could have a proper Irish name, and Anne could name the other Helmut for all he cared.
He squeezed her again. His family, all together, right there. His wife (well, eventually his wife), and children, safe and sound, their unconditional love radiating out like the glow beneath his own skin and their bodies guarded by the moonlight shining through the window.
For one brief, painful moment, he wondered if his own father had ever held his mother like this while she was pregnant. Had he ever put a hand on her stomach and silently told his unborn son that he loved him? Not likely. Indeed, the girl laying in Marco's arms was one of the few people ever to say those three words to him.
Closing his eyes, Marco buried his his face in Anne's hair. The perfume he'd seen in her room at her parents' house had the word "edelweiss" on the bottle, so he assumed that was what the sweet, light scent about her was. It was comforting in a way he hadn't expected, and he held her closer, as if he expected someone, Magne or Legion, to step out of the shadows into the safety of their moonlight and steal her away. And after everything he'd lost in life, the German and the children he shared with her were all he had left. The thought of losing them now terrified Marco more than anything he'd ever faced. He would stand before the lynch mobs a thousand times to keep them safe.
Anne breathed out another sigh. Still out. Marco smiled slightly. At least she had found some peace, after being shot, fighting with her father, nearly getting blown to kingdom come twice, and allowing the father of her children back into her life.
Pulling the sheets up over her, he brushed his lips against her cheek. "I love you," he added in a whisper, and was just about to lay back down when one of the girl's dark brown eyes opened.
"Marco? What are you doing?"
He paused. Shit. Although Anne certainly never expressed any issues about personal space, it was clear she remembered falling asleep a good four inches away from her lover. And here she was, pulled against him tight, his arms holding her in an almost desperate embrace.
A small, wry grin crossed the German girl's face. "Are you cuddling me, Marco McCalister?"
Instantly, he released her. "No," he insisted. "I was just making sure you had enough blankets. I didn't want you to get cold."
"It's September." She sat up, one of the thin straps of her moon-silver negligee slipping down over her shoulder. There was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes as a smile crossed her face. "Du warst mich als einen Teddybär kuscheln!" she teased, poking him in the chest.
"What? Stop it, you know I hate when you--"
Anne shut him up with a kiss, then slid her arms around him. Very gently, she laid him back down on the bed, guiding his own arms around her and holding his head to her breast. "It's all right, Liebling." Her voice was gentler now, and the Irishman relaxed a bit.
She was quiet for several moments, and when Marco glanced up at her, he saw her eyes were closed. At least, they were until she felt him looking at her. Then she opened one and gave him another playful smile. "I won't tell anyone. I promise," she remarked, ruffling his hair. "Now go to sleep."
He didn't, of course. He needed sleep now like he needed a bicycle for his pet unicorn. But as Anne's breathing became slow and regulator, he did allow himself to shut his eyes eyes and just enjoy the feeling and the safety of her. Although he never technically lost consciousness, dreams of their future life together moved through his head.
Outside, the moon moved away from the window, and left the room dark.
Zeitraum: Marco and Anne's first (only?) night together in Germany
Wörter: 1032
Was she asleep yet? Marco estimated it had been a good twenty minutes since she'd said anything, and her breathing sounded regular. With extreme caution, the superhuman opened one eye just enough to look over at the woman beside him.
She was laying on her side with her back to him, her body gently moving up and down with every breath. The sheets had slipped down to her hip, and the moonlight shining on her silvery negligee and white skin almost made her seem to glow. Her short black hair was somewhat mussed from rolling over, but with one careful, gentle hand, Marco smoothed it back down.
"Anne?" he whispered. She didn't say anything. Good, she was definitely asleep.
Very carefully, he slipped one arm beneath the curve of her waist, and the other under the swell of her breasts. Taking care not to wake her up, Marco pulled her petite body towards him until he felt the silky fabric of her negligee against his chest, and the tickle of her hair under his chin. The German girl let out a soft sigh, but made no other sign of waking.
The Irishman closed his eyes and squeezed her gently. She felt soft and warm in his arms, and although her small frame made her resemble an oversized porcelain doll, there was something very solid and real about her.
Was it the children she carried? Marco moved one hand over the bump on her stomach. On the ultrasound, his offspring resembled tadpoles, one just a little larger than the other. Anne thought that might be the one who communicated with them, because his brain was likely more developed.
Marco smiled. "His." Were she awake, surely the German would have a retort for the assumption that their more vocal child would be a son. And while Marco would be happy even if Anne gave birth to twin girls, he couldn't hide the fact that he truly did want a boy of his own. Or maybe even two. One could have a proper Irish name, and Anne could name the other Helmut for all he cared.
He squeezed her again. His family, all together, right there. His wife (well, eventually his wife), and children, safe and sound, their unconditional love radiating out like the glow beneath his own skin and their bodies guarded by the moonlight shining through the window.
For one brief, painful moment, he wondered if his own father had ever held his mother like this while she was pregnant. Had he ever put a hand on her stomach and silently told his unborn son that he loved him? Not likely. Indeed, the girl laying in Marco's arms was one of the few people ever to say those three words to him.
Closing his eyes, Marco buried his his face in Anne's hair. The perfume he'd seen in her room at her parents' house had the word "edelweiss" on the bottle, so he assumed that was what the sweet, light scent about her was. It was comforting in a way he hadn't expected, and he held her closer, as if he expected someone, Magne or Legion, to step out of the shadows into the safety of their moonlight and steal her away. And after everything he'd lost in life, the German and the children he shared with her were all he had left. The thought of losing them now terrified Marco more than anything he'd ever faced. He would stand before the lynch mobs a thousand times to keep them safe.
Anne breathed out another sigh. Still out. Marco smiled slightly. At least she had found some peace, after being shot, fighting with her father, nearly getting blown to kingdom come twice, and allowing the father of her children back into her life.
Pulling the sheets up over her, he brushed his lips against her cheek. "I love you," he added in a whisper, and was just about to lay back down when one of the girl's dark brown eyes opened.
"Marco? What are you doing?"
He paused. Shit. Although Anne certainly never expressed any issues about personal space, it was clear she remembered falling asleep a good four inches away from her lover. And here she was, pulled against him tight, his arms holding her in an almost desperate embrace.
A small, wry grin crossed the German girl's face. "Are you cuddling me, Marco McCalister?"
Instantly, he released her. "No," he insisted. "I was just making sure you had enough blankets. I didn't want you to get cold."
"It's September." She sat up, one of the thin straps of her moon-silver negligee slipping down over her shoulder. There was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes as a smile crossed her face. "Du warst mich als einen Teddybär kuscheln!" she teased, poking him in the chest.
"What? Stop it, you know I hate when you--"
Anne shut him up with a kiss, then slid her arms around him. Very gently, she laid him back down on the bed, guiding his own arms around her and holding his head to her breast. "It's all right, Liebling." Her voice was gentler now, and the Irishman relaxed a bit.
She was quiet for several moments, and when Marco glanced up at her, he saw her eyes were closed. At least, they were until she felt him looking at her. Then she opened one and gave him another playful smile. "I won't tell anyone. I promise," she remarked, ruffling his hair. "Now go to sleep."
He didn't, of course. He needed sleep now like he needed a bicycle for his pet unicorn. But as Anne's breathing became slow and regulator, he did allow himself to shut his eyes eyes and just enjoy the feeling and the safety of her. Although he never technically lost consciousness, dreams of their future life together moved through his head.
Outside, the moon moved away from the window, and left the room dark.