my love like a voice, tbbtfic, s/p, 1000 words [for dashakay]
Title: my love like a voice
Author: allthingsholy
Rating: NC-17
Notes: So, dashakay is awesome and participated in help_haiti's lightning round auction. She asked for 1,000 words of a bandfic sequel, featuring a little more nudity and sex. So. Thanks to juniperlane for the once over, and constantly providing me with songs that mean this 'verse is never far from my mind. Bandfic v1.0 can be found here. (Title from Kick Drum Heart, by the Avett Brothers.)
bandfic
every chorus was your name | my love like a voice | make a record of my heart | all the chances we took
----
This is how it starts.
Not in Detroit, with his hands on her hips and the sound of a crowd just out past the curtain, with her fingers wrapping tightly around flannel and tugging him closer.
Not in Kansas City, with his palm so soft against her cheek, and a bright, lively promise in his eyes.
It starts in Pasadena, after their flight from Kansas City and a layover from hell, when he backs her up against the wall at Stuart’s store before they’ve even finished unpacking all their gear, with all the guys oblivious just around the corner and Penny’s heart beating madly in her chest.
Things go fairly quickly after that.
--
The first time is a little fumbling and unsure, with arms and elbows everywhere, and more than a few starts and stops.
“No, Sheldon, just-”
“Hold still, Penny, I’m trying to-”
“Just. There. I’m-Oh god-There.”
They don’t get it exactly right the first time. They don’t mind. They work at it. They’re both firm believers in practice and perseverence.
--
Early on, Penny spends an entire show trying not to look at Sheldon’s hands, fighting the low, burning feeling coiled in the pit of her stomach. She keeps her eyes on the bar behind the crowd, on the railing of the balcony, jumping from face to face in the first four rows. She does not watch his fingers, his long, tapered pianist’s fingers, as they rush up and down the keys, but she still imagines them everywhere, fit against her ribs, on the small of her back, inside her and twisting just so. She is more than a little distracted, and when the show ends she drags him outside, across the parking lot and into the back of Stuart’s van.
“Penny, this is hardly appropriate. We should be selling merchandise. Our draw from the door is barely enough to-”
“Shut up, Sheldon,” she says, pulling him down against her. She’s got one hand worked under his shirt and the other pulling his arm around her, and she doesn’t say anything else coherent for awhile, until he’s put those pianist’s hands to good use.
--
To her great surprise, Penny is not always the one making the first move. They’re late to rehearsal one day because Sheldon catches her by the wrist on their way into Stuart’s store and pulls her into the alley, backs her up against the brick wall and works his knee between her thighs, pressing his mouth to hers, hot and greedy.
They stroll into rehearsal ten minutes late, scratches on Penny’s elbows and her hair a wild mess around her face.
“Well,” Howard says, “nice of you two to join us. Everyone get off alright?”
Sheldon almost blushes. Penny throws one of Howard’s drumsticks at him. Leonard and Raj just laugh.
--
Sometimes, the sex is needy and quick, Penny pressed hard into the mattress or her hands firm and strong against Sheldon’s chest. Sometimes it is tender, sweet, full of gentle laughter and breathy sighs and deep, fervent kisses.
Penny likes it either way. She likes to watch Sheldon unravel in front of her, his words becoming more stilted, incoherent, as she takes him into her mouth or sinks down on him slowly, and it’s a wonder to her that she can make his eyes so wide and unfocused. She’ll never stop being amazed that she can do this to him, every time.
--
Sheldon has changed now, in tiny, important ways. Penny likes to think it’s because of her, because of them, because of the ways he can unwind around her, let his mind and his ego slow and settle down.
He’s looser onstage now, with less control and more emotion, an unbelievably graceful force always just behind her, always just in the corner of her eye.
Penny thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.
--
They’ve finally hit their stride. She’s learned the places on his body that make him twitch and tighten his fingers in her hair, and he’s gotten good at finding just the right angle, just the right amount of pressure to make her tip her head back and call his name.
Sheldon kisses her from breast to hipbone, his mouth precise and thorough. He slowly, teasingly moves lower, and her breath starts to quicken as her hips push toward him. His hands span her thighs like an octave, and he works a rushed melody against her clit with his tongue, and she’d probably take the time to think of words like harmony and resonance if she could think of anything at all when his mouth’s against her like this. He works one finger inside her, then another, and pumps in perfect time with his tongue until she arches her back and comes, grabbing at the sheets and digging her heel into his back.
Penny’s breathing is still sharp and quick when he moves up her body, pressing a kiss to her neck as he pushes inside her. There is an easy rhythm there now, and they work it slowly, each thrust long as he slides in and then away, his hand settled strongly at her hip. She holds him tighter, his long lanky frame perfectly fitted against hers, and presses a kiss to his temple as she rocks against him.
--
It’s been almost three months since the first time, and summer has hit California with full force. A fan by the window blows hot air over them, the heat still stifling in the middle of the night. They lay next to each other just barely touching, Penny’s temple set gently against Sheldon’s shoulder, their skin sticky in all the places they’re pressed up against each other.
“Sheldon?” Penny asks. There is little sound in the room but the drone of the fan and the quiet rush of passing cars outside.
“Mm,” Sheldon answers, half-asleep. Penny turns her face up to his, surveying the lines of his jaw, his nose, the press of his lips, and the soft twitch of his still-closed eyes. They still have not talked about what exactly they are doing, about the boundaries of their relationship or any expectations they may have. They’ve let it fall slowly into place, the pieces coming together easily, without force. She’s not ready to call it love, not yet, but Sheldon sighs heavily as he drifts off, burrowing just a little bit deeper toward her, and she knows it might be.
“Nothing,” she whispers. She rolls onto her side, hooks a foot over his, and presses a hand to his chest. Her eyelids droop and she kisses his shoulder and drifts off.
----
Author: allthingsholy
Rating: NC-17
Notes: So, dashakay is awesome and participated in help_haiti's lightning round auction. She asked for 1,000 words of a bandfic sequel, featuring a little more nudity and sex. So. Thanks to juniperlane for the once over, and constantly providing me with songs that mean this 'verse is never far from my mind. Bandfic v1.0 can be found here. (Title from Kick Drum Heart, by the Avett Brothers.)
bandfic
every chorus was your name | my love like a voice | make a record of my heart | all the chances we took
----
This is how it starts.
Not in Detroit, with his hands on her hips and the sound of a crowd just out past the curtain, with her fingers wrapping tightly around flannel and tugging him closer.
Not in Kansas City, with his palm so soft against her cheek, and a bright, lively promise in his eyes.
It starts in Pasadena, after their flight from Kansas City and a layover from hell, when he backs her up against the wall at Stuart’s store before they’ve even finished unpacking all their gear, with all the guys oblivious just around the corner and Penny’s heart beating madly in her chest.
Things go fairly quickly after that.
--
The first time is a little fumbling and unsure, with arms and elbows everywhere, and more than a few starts and stops.
“No, Sheldon, just-”
“Hold still, Penny, I’m trying to-”
“Just. There. I’m-Oh god-There.”
They don’t get it exactly right the first time. They don’t mind. They work at it. They’re both firm believers in practice and perseverence.
--
Early on, Penny spends an entire show trying not to look at Sheldon’s hands, fighting the low, burning feeling coiled in the pit of her stomach. She keeps her eyes on the bar behind the crowd, on the railing of the balcony, jumping from face to face in the first four rows. She does not watch his fingers, his long, tapered pianist’s fingers, as they rush up and down the keys, but she still imagines them everywhere, fit against her ribs, on the small of her back, inside her and twisting just so. She is more than a little distracted, and when the show ends she drags him outside, across the parking lot and into the back of Stuart’s van.
“Penny, this is hardly appropriate. We should be selling merchandise. Our draw from the door is barely enough to-”
“Shut up, Sheldon,” she says, pulling him down against her. She’s got one hand worked under his shirt and the other pulling his arm around her, and she doesn’t say anything else coherent for awhile, until he’s put those pianist’s hands to good use.
--
To her great surprise, Penny is not always the one making the first move. They’re late to rehearsal one day because Sheldon catches her by the wrist on their way into Stuart’s store and pulls her into the alley, backs her up against the brick wall and works his knee between her thighs, pressing his mouth to hers, hot and greedy.
They stroll into rehearsal ten minutes late, scratches on Penny’s elbows and her hair a wild mess around her face.
“Well,” Howard says, “nice of you two to join us. Everyone get off alright?”
Sheldon almost blushes. Penny throws one of Howard’s drumsticks at him. Leonard and Raj just laugh.
--
Sometimes, the sex is needy and quick, Penny pressed hard into the mattress or her hands firm and strong against Sheldon’s chest. Sometimes it is tender, sweet, full of gentle laughter and breathy sighs and deep, fervent kisses.
Penny likes it either way. She likes to watch Sheldon unravel in front of her, his words becoming more stilted, incoherent, as she takes him into her mouth or sinks down on him slowly, and it’s a wonder to her that she can make his eyes so wide and unfocused. She’ll never stop being amazed that she can do this to him, every time.
--
Sheldon has changed now, in tiny, important ways. Penny likes to think it’s because of her, because of them, because of the ways he can unwind around her, let his mind and his ego slow and settle down.
He’s looser onstage now, with less control and more emotion, an unbelievably graceful force always just behind her, always just in the corner of her eye.
Penny thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.
--
They’ve finally hit their stride. She’s learned the places on his body that make him twitch and tighten his fingers in her hair, and he’s gotten good at finding just the right angle, just the right amount of pressure to make her tip her head back and call his name.
Sheldon kisses her from breast to hipbone, his mouth precise and thorough. He slowly, teasingly moves lower, and her breath starts to quicken as her hips push toward him. His hands span her thighs like an octave, and he works a rushed melody against her clit with his tongue, and she’d probably take the time to think of words like harmony and resonance if she could think of anything at all when his mouth’s against her like this. He works one finger inside her, then another, and pumps in perfect time with his tongue until she arches her back and comes, grabbing at the sheets and digging her heel into his back.
Penny’s breathing is still sharp and quick when he moves up her body, pressing a kiss to her neck as he pushes inside her. There is an easy rhythm there now, and they work it slowly, each thrust long as he slides in and then away, his hand settled strongly at her hip. She holds him tighter, his long lanky frame perfectly fitted against hers, and presses a kiss to his temple as she rocks against him.
--
It’s been almost three months since the first time, and summer has hit California with full force. A fan by the window blows hot air over them, the heat still stifling in the middle of the night. They lay next to each other just barely touching, Penny’s temple set gently against Sheldon’s shoulder, their skin sticky in all the places they’re pressed up against each other.
“Sheldon?” Penny asks. There is little sound in the room but the drone of the fan and the quiet rush of passing cars outside.
“Mm,” Sheldon answers, half-asleep. Penny turns her face up to his, surveying the lines of his jaw, his nose, the press of his lips, and the soft twitch of his still-closed eyes. They still have not talked about what exactly they are doing, about the boundaries of their relationship or any expectations they may have. They’ve let it fall slowly into place, the pieces coming together easily, without force. She’s not ready to call it love, not yet, but Sheldon sighs heavily as he drifts off, burrowing just a little bit deeper toward her, and she knows it might be.
“Nothing,” she whispers. She rolls onto her side, hooks a foot over his, and presses a hand to his chest. Her eyelids droop and she kisses his shoulder and drifts off.
----