Making this post on a whim--it's Friday, and I need a quick break from work
For reasons unknown, today I feel like posting smut. Awkwardly, I don't even have a working draft of any smut, never mind anything actually ready to go. Woe.
Instead, I'm going to post something that may or may not be of any interest to anyone (?); it's an attempt from several months ago to consciously pin down some of the differences in how I write Georgia and Shaun. Their PsOV (POVs?) feel very different from each other in the Newsflesh books, and while I've consciously IDed a few elements (mostly different aspects of "Georgia tends to process things clinically, right down to her own feelings, which Shaun's more prone to filtering things through his emotions" and the way they notice different things), mostly what I'm doing when I write fic for them is intuitive--and pretty comfortable at this point, so my curiosity about what I'm doing is sort of academic? If that makes sense?
Anyway, back when I was writing "We Dreamed a Garden" (Georgia's POV, in which she and Shaun admit to their profoundly socially-unacceptable feelings for each other and start acting on them), I took a few paragraphs from immediately after their first kiss and rewrote them from Shaun's POV. I obviously can't do anything with that, really, so here are both versions, just 'cause.
Georgia's POV, from "We Dreamed a Garden":"Shut your eyes," Shaun said, and when my eyelids closed he kissed them too, over and over again. It was one of the tenderest things I'd ever felt from him, and I've seen him gentle in ways no one else could imagine. "You can look now," he muttered into my hair when he was done.
I tried to sound stern. "Make up your mind."
"You know damn well I made up my mind years ago, Georgia Mason." His hands settled on my hips again, drawing me back against him.
It was no closer than we'd been only a few minutes before; there was no way we could be physically closer than that as long as we were both still dressed. It was still unmistakably different. Shaun's arms offered the same comfort and safety as always, but now he was holding me with a hunger as intense as mine.
I could have kept myself from moaning at the sensation, but there was no reason not to let him hear it--and plenty of reason to want him to, judging by the way his grip on me tightened.
Shaun's POV, entirely unbetaed since it's something I wrote on a whim:"Shut your eyes," I told her. The look she gave me was questioning, but she obliged without demanding an explanation, keeping her face tilted up to mine. There was a vulnerability in that gesture I couldn't have put into words. I kissed one of her eyelids, slowly, so she'd understand what I was doing, and then the other. She held perfectly still for it, except for the faint movement under my lips while I kept kissing her there.
It was overwhelming in a way I hadn't expected: George in my arms, letting me touch her in a way that had to be a tiny bit scary, even with me. I moved my mouth to her hair. "You can look now," I muttered.
She drew back and tried to look serious as she said, "Make up your mind."
"You know damn well I made up my mind years ago, Georgia Mason." I pulled her tight against me again, so close I could feel how hard her heart was pounding, and how soft her chest was--a familiar feeling, but one I'd been trying not to think about for what felt like forever.
I'd tried hard, I really had--except when I hadn't. There'd been dozens of nights when I didn't try at all. Shocking fact: it's not hard to construct a detailed fantasy when you've already experienced so much of what you're craving: I knew how her breasts felt against my chest, how her head rested just so on my shoulder, even how she sounded when she came. It hadn't been a stretch to imagine how her hips would feel in my hands, the way they'd move when she was turned on enough to grind herself against me, just a little.
Just like she was doing now.
Holding her like that, it didn't matter that I--that we--had no experience. I could feel how much she trusted me, and how much she wanted everything I wanted. The soft way she moaned would've told me that even if I hadn't been able to feel how pliant her body was. It made me hold her tighter, like we could meld ourselves together through sheer force of want--and we could. I'd been dreaming about sex with her for years, and for the first time I could feel something of what that would be like. I could be inside her, because she wanted me to be; I could make her make those sounds I'd heard through the door between our rooms.
Originally posted at http://umadoshi.dreamwidth.org/541700.html. Comment here if you like, or comment there using OpenID. Comments at DW:
Instead, I'm going to post something that may or may not be of any interest to anyone (?); it's an attempt from several months ago to consciously pin down some of the differences in how I write Georgia and Shaun. Their PsOV (POVs?) feel very different from each other in the Newsflesh books, and while I've consciously IDed a few elements (mostly different aspects of "Georgia tends to process things clinically, right down to her own feelings, which Shaun's more prone to filtering things through his emotions" and the way they notice different things), mostly what I'm doing when I write fic for them is intuitive--and pretty comfortable at this point, so my curiosity about what I'm doing is sort of academic? If that makes sense?
Anyway, back when I was writing "We Dreamed a Garden" (Georgia's POV, in which she and Shaun admit to their profoundly socially-unacceptable feelings for each other and start acting on them), I took a few paragraphs from immediately after their first kiss and rewrote them from Shaun's POV. I obviously can't do anything with that, really, so here are both versions, just 'cause.
Georgia's POV, from "We Dreamed a Garden":"Shut your eyes," Shaun said, and when my eyelids closed he kissed them too, over and over again. It was one of the tenderest things I'd ever felt from him, and I've seen him gentle in ways no one else could imagine. "You can look now," he muttered into my hair when he was done.
I tried to sound stern. "Make up your mind."
"You know damn well I made up my mind years ago, Georgia Mason." His hands settled on my hips again, drawing me back against him.
It was no closer than we'd been only a few minutes before; there was no way we could be physically closer than that as long as we were both still dressed. It was still unmistakably different. Shaun's arms offered the same comfort and safety as always, but now he was holding me with a hunger as intense as mine.
I could have kept myself from moaning at the sensation, but there was no reason not to let him hear it--and plenty of reason to want him to, judging by the way his grip on me tightened.
Shaun's POV, entirely unbetaed since it's something I wrote on a whim:"Shut your eyes," I told her. The look she gave me was questioning, but she obliged without demanding an explanation, keeping her face tilted up to mine. There was a vulnerability in that gesture I couldn't have put into words. I kissed one of her eyelids, slowly, so she'd understand what I was doing, and then the other. She held perfectly still for it, except for the faint movement under my lips while I kept kissing her there.
It was overwhelming in a way I hadn't expected: George in my arms, letting me touch her in a way that had to be a tiny bit scary, even with me. I moved my mouth to her hair. "You can look now," I muttered.
She drew back and tried to look serious as she said, "Make up your mind."
"You know damn well I made up my mind years ago, Georgia Mason." I pulled her tight against me again, so close I could feel how hard her heart was pounding, and how soft her chest was--a familiar feeling, but one I'd been trying not to think about for what felt like forever.
I'd tried hard, I really had--except when I hadn't. There'd been dozens of nights when I didn't try at all. Shocking fact: it's not hard to construct a detailed fantasy when you've already experienced so much of what you're craving: I knew how her breasts felt against my chest, how her head rested just so on my shoulder, even how she sounded when she came. It hadn't been a stretch to imagine how her hips would feel in my hands, the way they'd move when she was turned on enough to grind herself against me, just a little.
Just like she was doing now.
Holding her like that, it didn't matter that I--that we--had no experience. I could feel how much she trusted me, and how much she wanted everything I wanted. The soft way she moaned would've told me that even if I hadn't been able to feel how pliant her body was. It made me hold her tighter, like we could meld ourselves together through sheer force of want--and we could. I'd been dreaming about sex with her for years, and for the first time I could feel something of what that would be like. I could be inside her, because she wanted me to be; I could make her make those sounds I'd heard through the door between our rooms.
Originally posted at http://umadoshi.dreamwidth.org/541700.html. Comment here if you like, or comment there using OpenID. Comments at DW: