(no subject)
Title: When This Is All Over
Fandom: RPF
Characters: Rob Pattinson/Katie Leung
Rating: R
Word Count: 737
“You won’t forget me, will you? When this is all over?”
He doesn’t know what she means by that, exactly. When what is all over? When filming is over and they no longer have the justifiable excuse of seeing each other day after day? When they are all over, when Katie finally sees clearly and realises what a laughable mistake it is to be with him? Robert decides that he doesn’t like the sound of that, no matter how true it may be.
He doesn’t dare answer. Silence is deafening, but words risk becoming empty promises. He can’t afford that, not when it comes to her.
Maybe, he thinks, just maybe, she’ll understand the wordless answer.
---
The scent of her hair is completely intoxicating. It is so silky and soft and exaggeratedly so, and he thought that is only a cliché employed by shampoo advertisers. His fingers relish in the strands of black, almost shimmering under the low light of the room. For a split second, Rob desperately wishes he didn’t need to breathe, wanting to hold his breath for as long as possible as to not fall dizzy from the sight of her.
It’s a little ridiculous, he thinks, this effect Katie has on him. She isn’t his type at all, he tells himself. Sometimes he would wonder, absentmindedly, if he would even turn his head if he has just seen her on the streets.
If she were just a stranger, would he even catch her presence, let alone bringing her back home, drinking in her kiss hungrily like he’s doing now?
Nothing else matters as her fingers tangle in his hair, little gasps escaped from her throat singing like music to his ears as his lips graze her jaw and neck. The flush on her cheeks intensifies as his breath tickles her skin, his teeth leaving their mark on her shoulder, his fingers playing at the buttons of her blouse. This should be easy; he has almost lost count on how many there has been on his bed. And yet, it is so difficult, as he tells himself that his fumbling hands are snatching away innocence and purity that someone like him would never deserve.
His eyes meet hers, wide with a sense of unadulterated desire that he would never expect radiating from someone like her, and yet mixed with just a slight hint of fear. He can’t help himself but to question that fear. What is she afraid of? The physical pain? The regret in the morning after? The things people will say?
He finally understands her question. As he enters her with all the gentleness he can muster, he holds onto her tighter than ever before, hoping that would be an answer she would want and need.
---
This is the last chance, it’s now or never. Tomorrow, she will return to Scotland, back home with her family and friends, where she belongs. Where she is comfortable.
Where she will be safe from the likes of him.
Her bare skin burns onto his, the smallest contact sending him to the moon and back without her even having to try. He holds her under the sheets for what he hopes will not be the last time, but the first of many more to come. There are no more barriers between them, now. The outline of her eyes and nose and lips clearly visible even in the pitch blackness of his bedroom. He breathes in her scent, still the very same as that which has entranced him all these months ago. Pulling her closer, he struggles to hold on to his one lifeline.
“Ask me again.”
Brown eyes stare intently at his, not daring to hope. “Ask what?”
He pleads, shoving aside past mistakes and insecurities. He has never been so certain of anything, never so confident in a decision. Never so bold as to look future in the eye.
“What you asked me, when we first became…,” us, “what we are now.”
She looks up at him, searching for a solution to his enigma. The search has been over before it has ever started. “You won’t forget me, will you? When this is all over?”
He brushes a strand of hair off her face, her soft flesh under his fingertips. “This won’t be over.” His arms curl around her waist, their legs entangled, finding their place with each other.
Right where they belong.
Fandom: RPF
Characters: Rob Pattinson/Katie Leung
Rating: R
Word Count: 737
“You won’t forget me, will you? When this is all over?”
He doesn’t know what she means by that, exactly. When what is all over? When filming is over and they no longer have the justifiable excuse of seeing each other day after day? When they are all over, when Katie finally sees clearly and realises what a laughable mistake it is to be with him? Robert decides that he doesn’t like the sound of that, no matter how true it may be.
He doesn’t dare answer. Silence is deafening, but words risk becoming empty promises. He can’t afford that, not when it comes to her.
Maybe, he thinks, just maybe, she’ll understand the wordless answer.
---
The scent of her hair is completely intoxicating. It is so silky and soft and exaggeratedly so, and he thought that is only a cliché employed by shampoo advertisers. His fingers relish in the strands of black, almost shimmering under the low light of the room. For a split second, Rob desperately wishes he didn’t need to breathe, wanting to hold his breath for as long as possible as to not fall dizzy from the sight of her.
It’s a little ridiculous, he thinks, this effect Katie has on him. She isn’t his type at all, he tells himself. Sometimes he would wonder, absentmindedly, if he would even turn his head if he has just seen her on the streets.
If she were just a stranger, would he even catch her presence, let alone bringing her back home, drinking in her kiss hungrily like he’s doing now?
Nothing else matters as her fingers tangle in his hair, little gasps escaped from her throat singing like music to his ears as his lips graze her jaw and neck. The flush on her cheeks intensifies as his breath tickles her skin, his teeth leaving their mark on her shoulder, his fingers playing at the buttons of her blouse. This should be easy; he has almost lost count on how many there has been on his bed. And yet, it is so difficult, as he tells himself that his fumbling hands are snatching away innocence and purity that someone like him would never deserve.
His eyes meet hers, wide with a sense of unadulterated desire that he would never expect radiating from someone like her, and yet mixed with just a slight hint of fear. He can’t help himself but to question that fear. What is she afraid of? The physical pain? The regret in the morning after? The things people will say?
He finally understands her question. As he enters her with all the gentleness he can muster, he holds onto her tighter than ever before, hoping that would be an answer she would want and need.
---
This is the last chance, it’s now or never. Tomorrow, she will return to Scotland, back home with her family and friends, where she belongs. Where she is comfortable.
Where she will be safe from the likes of him.
Her bare skin burns onto his, the smallest contact sending him to the moon and back without her even having to try. He holds her under the sheets for what he hopes will not be the last time, but the first of many more to come. There are no more barriers between them, now. The outline of her eyes and nose and lips clearly visible even in the pitch blackness of his bedroom. He breathes in her scent, still the very same as that which has entranced him all these months ago. Pulling her closer, he struggles to hold on to his one lifeline.
“Ask me again.”
Brown eyes stare intently at his, not daring to hope. “Ask what?”
He pleads, shoving aside past mistakes and insecurities. He has never been so certain of anything, never so confident in a decision. Never so bold as to look future in the eye.
“What you asked me, when we first became…,” us, “what we are now.”
She looks up at him, searching for a solution to his enigma. The search has been over before it has ever started. “You won’t forget me, will you? When this is all over?”
He brushes a strand of hair off her face, her soft flesh under his fingertips. “This won’t be over.” His arms curl around her waist, their legs entangled, finding their place with each other.
Right where they belong.