Advent Calendar 21
Story: 'Advent Calendar'
Characters: Nine/Rose
Rated: Adult
Disclaimer: I resent the BBC. They own the lot.
Content: Romance; Graphic Sex; Humour; PWP.
Chapters: 21/24
Summary: 24 days. 24 positions. Seriously.
December 21
The evening of 21st December lasted a lifetime. Neither of them could bear to leave the haven of the ship so he stoked up the fireplace in the library with enough logs to last until Christmas and they lay, wrapped around each other on the battered leather sofa and bathed in the glow. The flickering light spread her hair in a wave of molten gold over his chest and the hard angles of his face seemed softened, less severe in the gentle darkness. She made him laugh with stories of her childhood, little, inconsequential details like dew drops of history, strung out on a wire. He fed her so much chocolate she claimed to feel sick but the sparkle in her eyes when she closed her mouth around it was captivating, a secret pleasure. She smiled so much her face ached. He felt like he had never been alone.
And gradually, by fits and starts, he told her about the war. It weaved its way into the conversation on the warp and weft of their relationship, a loose thread she had never untangled, never tried to unpick. She wasn’t sure how he started, the words slipping through the dancing firelight towards her like they had found a gap through the bars. Layer on layer of images falling in snowdrifts all around her, a soft blizzard of remembered pain. She didn’t speak, she let the words come, and she sat and she held his hand as he talked. His eyes glistened in the shadows, and she knew she was the first to hear this tale.
When he had finished, he couldn’t remember why he hadn’t told her before. She was closer to him than anyone had ever been, so much an extension of himself it almost felt like he was explaining things she already knew, because she had lived them beside him. Her hand was a lifeline though the storm of recollection, holding him fast. Even after the end, she didn’t let him go. It was the last part of himself he had held back, he had given her everything else that mattered.
In the heavy silken silence that wound around them she touched his face. ‘I love you,’ she said again.
And he kissed her. His heart was peaceful, floating; he still knew the weight of the burden he carried, but it seemed to press more lightly on his shoulders. She could think of nothing else about him she needed to know.
Caught in the net of bright radiance thrown by the fire, they discovered each other again, making love for hours, face to face, skin to skin. He kissed every delicate pore of her throat, shifted his lips over the supple firmness of her breasts, drew her nipples into his mouth as softy as the whispering breeze of summer. Her hands traced featherlight patterns on his chest, tripping over the taut muscles in his arms, going lower, reminding herself how smooth he was, how hard, how sure. His fingers slipped into her warmth with an assurance born of long practice, moving easily against her flesh as the lazy tides of orgasm washed over her. She lay on top of him, full length, looking down, lost in his eyes. He raised his hand to her cheek as he pushed her hips down, joined them together, sliding home.
She lost count of the number of times she trembled, cried out, shuddered around him. His desire for her was without limit, and for every rushing satisfaction she gave him, there was another, and another just waiting to be set free.
He stared at her, and ‘I love you’ was in his eyes, in the touch of his fingertips, in the beating of his hearts. She could taste it in his kiss. But the sadness of the tale he had told stilled his tongue and he was silent.
Neither of them could bear to leave the haven of each other. The night of 21st December would last a lifetime.
December 13 - 15
http://sap1066.livejournal.com/8184.html
December 1 - 12
http://sap1066.livejournal.com/7405.html
Characters: Nine/Rose
Rated: Adult
Disclaimer: I resent the BBC. They own the lot.
Content: Romance; Graphic Sex; Humour; PWP.
Chapters: 21/24
Summary: 24 days. 24 positions. Seriously.
December 21
The evening of 21st December lasted a lifetime. Neither of them could bear to leave the haven of the ship so he stoked up the fireplace in the library with enough logs to last until Christmas and they lay, wrapped around each other on the battered leather sofa and bathed in the glow. The flickering light spread her hair in a wave of molten gold over his chest and the hard angles of his face seemed softened, less severe in the gentle darkness. She made him laugh with stories of her childhood, little, inconsequential details like dew drops of history, strung out on a wire. He fed her so much chocolate she claimed to feel sick but the sparkle in her eyes when she closed her mouth around it was captivating, a secret pleasure. She smiled so much her face ached. He felt like he had never been alone.
And gradually, by fits and starts, he told her about the war. It weaved its way into the conversation on the warp and weft of their relationship, a loose thread she had never untangled, never tried to unpick. She wasn’t sure how he started, the words slipping through the dancing firelight towards her like they had found a gap through the bars. Layer on layer of images falling in snowdrifts all around her, a soft blizzard of remembered pain. She didn’t speak, she let the words come, and she sat and she held his hand as he talked. His eyes glistened in the shadows, and she knew she was the first to hear this tale.
When he had finished, he couldn’t remember why he hadn’t told her before. She was closer to him than anyone had ever been, so much an extension of himself it almost felt like he was explaining things she already knew, because she had lived them beside him. Her hand was a lifeline though the storm of recollection, holding him fast. Even after the end, she didn’t let him go. It was the last part of himself he had held back, he had given her everything else that mattered.
In the heavy silken silence that wound around them she touched his face. ‘I love you,’ she said again.
And he kissed her. His heart was peaceful, floating; he still knew the weight of the burden he carried, but it seemed to press more lightly on his shoulders. She could think of nothing else about him she needed to know.
Caught in the net of bright radiance thrown by the fire, they discovered each other again, making love for hours, face to face, skin to skin. He kissed every delicate pore of her throat, shifted his lips over the supple firmness of her breasts, drew her nipples into his mouth as softy as the whispering breeze of summer. Her hands traced featherlight patterns on his chest, tripping over the taut muscles in his arms, going lower, reminding herself how smooth he was, how hard, how sure. His fingers slipped into her warmth with an assurance born of long practice, moving easily against her flesh as the lazy tides of orgasm washed over her. She lay on top of him, full length, looking down, lost in his eyes. He raised his hand to her cheek as he pushed her hips down, joined them together, sliding home.
She lost count of the number of times she trembled, cried out, shuddered around him. His desire for her was without limit, and for every rushing satisfaction she gave him, there was another, and another just waiting to be set free.
He stared at her, and ‘I love you’ was in his eyes, in the touch of his fingertips, in the beating of his hearts. She could taste it in his kiss. But the sadness of the tale he had told stilled his tongue and he was silent.
Neither of them could bear to leave the haven of each other. The night of 21st December would last a lifetime.
December 13 - 15
http://sap1066.livejournal.com/8184.html
December 1 - 12
http://sap1066.livejournal.com/7405.html