Some More of Me Fic....
Untitled
Word Count: 1,076
Rating: NC 17, back on form!
Summary: Fairly plotless if not quite the usual.....
Todd/ Lovett:
It has become a kind of game now, a favourite amongst the many that they play. Waiting and watching, trying each not to be the first to let the other know that they are watching, trying to anticipate each other’s next move. Seeing who will be the first to give in, though loser or winner does not matter when finally they do, crashing together in a serpentine embrace. They love it and hate it, the lust game, each frustrating move bringing them closer to a glorious end.
Todd:
He knows that she has given in when she seeks him out for whatever reason. When her eyes melt into dark pools that try to swallow him up. So often they succeed.
Lovett:
She knows that he has given in when he has her pinned against the wall, razor at her throat, pressing hard and hot against her. When his eyes are glowing embers that try to burn her. So often they succeed.
Todd:
“Stay still” he orders her as she steps in through the door, a ray of sunlight tumbling in behind her, illuminating her pale skin with gorgeous golden light.
“Wait” he says and she obeys, his love, always obeys so sweetly.
Lovett:
“Wait” he says and she would be a hypocrite, now wouldn’t she, to disobey that command. He stares at her so, a strange silvery thing he is in the shadows. She wants to harness his light and drink it down.
Todd:
He wants to tell her how beautiful she is, the sun like a faint halo around her. His angel, his love. He wonders that she does not already know.
Lovett:
She wants to tell him how beautiful he is, a patch of shadow washed with silver and come to life. She wonders that he does not already know.
Todd:
He goes to her and she still does not move - is she awaiting his permission to do so? He knows that he has lost the game this time but he knows too, really, that he has been lost to her for longer than he would like to admit - or was he found?
Lovett:
Found. She feels found again in his arms as he holds her by the shoulders and looks down at her with a face she cannot read, not wanting to dare to think that he might care for her as his eyes seem to say that he does.
Todd:
Not wanting to dare to think that he might really care for her he tells himself it is her beauty only that holds him captivated. Only that and nothing more.
Lovett:
And it is so strange but he looks at her almost as though he might find her beautiful but surely -
Todd:
“Beautiful” he breathes, half afraid to say it as he strokes her cheek softly, curling a strand of her hair like spun rubies, loosely around one finger - “So beautiful”.
Lovett:
“Beautiful” she echoes quietly, not because it amazes her that he should think so, let alone say her, though it does, but because he is so very beautiful. She returns his caress, picking an errant strand of hair like jet out of his blazing eyes.
Todd:
“My love” he whispers soft as a caress. It is the closest he can come to admitting that she is. That he does. But it’s alright, because it’s just a phrase, she doesn’t have to know that he means it. He would rather she did not.
Lovett:
She doesn’t care if he knows that she means all those terms of endearment that she speaks so fondly - the closest she can come to telling him how much she loves him every day. She supposes that she would rather he did not quite know.
Todd:
His angel. She could break his heart with the beauty of that smile. He loves it so. He bends to kiss her gently, afraid that he will damage such perfect beauty with the roughness of his own lips. She does not break or bruise or back away but kisses him back as though there is nothing in the world that she would rather be doing. Or nothing much.
Lovett:
There is nothing she would rather be doing. Sometimes she likes it when he hurts her because it reminds her that she has not actually died and gone to heaven. Reminds her that she is not dreaming still, as he leans behind her to lock the door.
Todd:
He doesn’t want anything to interrupt this nearly perfect moment - or as near to perfect as he can bear, as he pushes down her sleeves, kissing her shoulders, undressing her gently, slowly, tormenting himself yes, but delighting in the feel of her soft, quivering skin beneath his lips.
Lovett:
She tries not to cry out too loudly and break the gentle fluttering motion of their breathing, deepening as he kisses down her body, kneeling now between her legs, parting her thighs and opening the cuts there with his nails just enough to hurt a little - just enough to let her know that this is real. He seems to know her so well. Her knees weaken and she drops with him to the floor -
Todd:
- Which relieves him because it was almost beginning to feel a little worshipful, kneeling before her like that and he wants her too much now to hold off his pleasure much longer, though her own delight pleases him more than he could ever admit. He could never grow tired of hearing her cries, even if he never left her arms again -
Lovett:
She wants him inside her too much to be subtle about it, half fearing that she may die if it is not soon - no not soon - now -
Todd:
-So he drives into her hard, throbbing and hurting, almost ready to fall just from the feel of her around him -
Todd/ Lovett:
But they wait, almost playing the game again, neither willing to be the first to give in as they dive and swoop and cry together like birds circling in the sky. They know each other now, how the other moves, the rise and fall of breath and skin and sighs. They twist and kiss and fight for perfection, knowing exactly where it is to be found on the body of the other, his hand against her hip, hers in the small of his back. Trembling, screaming, almost crying, they die together. Always.