FanFic100: #074 Dark
“I want a man with a slow hand
I want a lover with an easy touch
I want somebody who will spend some time
Not come and go in a heated rush
I want somebody who will understand
When it comes to love, I want a slow hand.”
Pointer Sisters, “Slow Hand”
“Right, so… night, Laura.”
“Yeah, night… Evan.” She still can’t bring herself to call him by his first name easily but she’ll learn it eventually, if they go on like they have these few last weeks, since her discharge from the infirmary and that first night on the pier. He never asked what made her stay up late into the night. Instead he just sat there with her, holding her hand, talking to her… three nights in a row. On the fourth… somehow they ended up kissing but it never went any further than that.
He rubs his neck looking a little awkward… like he wants to say - or do - something else but in the end he gives her one of these small insecure smiles he never shows when he’s on duty - well, basically, never when they are anywhere else than on their pier at night - raises his hand then leaves, walking down the corridor.
A little… frustrated because he didn’t even give her a good night kiss, she closes the door and hugs herself. Since he kissed her the first time there’d been secret glances, a few more stolen kisses, talking… But nothing more. She has the feeling that he’s waiting… but waiting for what? For the right time, for the right place, for her to be ready?
She is ready, she wants to tell him but deep down she has her doubts about that… and maybe he can somehow sense that. It’s not that she isn't sure of what she’s feeling… it’s just that the explosion that set all of this in motion left her with more than just a few unpleasant mental images. She knows it’s stupid but she’s afraid that when he sees what the explosion left behind… he won’t want her anymore.
Sighing, she takes a look at her bed and… it doesn’t really look as appealing as it did before that mission where the C4 and the ore went off a little too close for comfort. Or maybe… maybe it’s not the bed that doesn’t look as appealing anymore but the prospect of having to go through another sleepless night… in the dark.
It’s embarrassing, she knows, but ever since waking up being blind… darkness almost terrifies her. It got a little better after she started talking with Evan on the pier but not really much. She’s still thankful for it, even though she has the distinct feeling that he’s worried for her which is why he kept seeking her out after their first night together. She knows that he knows that she has trouble sleeping and she wants him to stop worrying.
Resisting another sigh, she forces herself to move away from the door, to get ready for bed… but before she can get very far, her door opens again. Startled, she turns around and… what the hell is Evan doing here again? She wants to ask but he beats her to it, taking a step towards her and taking a deep breath. “Look, you and I both know you won’t get much sleep tonight… like every night since they let you out of the infirmary.” Automatically, she wants to deny everything but instead of answering, he simply walks over to her bed and too confused to say anything, she follows him.
“Evan, what…” He racks his hair, even looking a little desperate… and then he reaches out for her, tentatively stroking her cheek. The slight touch feels so good… she can’t help but lean into it.
“I honestly don’t know what to do anymore… I only know I have to do something. I just… want you to be alright, you know.” She’d been right. He’s been worried sick about her and instantaneously she wants to tell him that everything is fine… or will be fine but he doesn’t wait for her to say anything but… goes straight for her mouth, kissing her… not tentatively, like he used to.
There’s a lot of pent up frustration and desire in that kiss he can barely contain and… is he here to…? Ah, hell, she thinks and sneaks her arms around him, wanting to deepen the kiss… but he doesn’t let her. Instead he breaks it and bends down to whisper in her ear, “If you want me to stop, Laura… just say so.” What a stupid suggestion. Why should she want him to stop? “But if you don’t want me to stop… close your eyes and keep them closed, whatever is going to happen.”
Not quite understanding what that is about - because she doesn’t want to close her eyes… in fact that’s her whole problem, doesn’t he see that? - she wants to ask him but he just kisses the spot behind her ear and that silences her quite effectively. “Remember, keep them closed.” Oh God, if he keeps on doing that whispering thing she’ll be a puddle of goo even before they get down on her bed.
But damn, she wants to open her eyes, take his shirt off and see the moonlight play over the body she has never seen uncovered before, but he seems to have anticipated this because he guides her down to the bed gently but determinedly. Then he lets go of her again for a moment. The rustling of fabric she hears makes her hope he’s taking off his shirt… and it’s confirmed when she feels him leaning down over her again and her fingers get to feel his bare skin.
Again she’s tempted to open her eyes but immediately, she feels his lips feather light on her closed lids. At the same time his hands have moved to relieve her of the t-shirt and with a start she realizes that if he really gets it off her he’ll see that her injuries might have healed… but not without leaving traces behind. She wants to keep him from pulling off the shirt but her hands aren’t really obeying her and neither is her tongue. Instead, the hands have moved to act as substitutes for her eyes in terms of getting to know his body and her tongue is kept busy by his.
Not fair, she thinks in a corner of her mind. He gets to see her - all of her, unfortunately - but she has to be content with clumsily fumbling around? Anyway, he has successfully distracted her from protesting against the removing of her shirt and she can feel his lips on her skin again… as well as smell his clean, warm scent with the undertones of weapon oil she has become so accustomed to… and she can also catch a taste of his skin when she dares to take a little action herself and grazes what feels like the corner of his neck with her mouth. She can’t hold back and even opens her mouth to bite him, very lightly and gently. It’s still enough to make him stop for a short moment and she’s sure she hears a slight grin in his voice when he says, “Want me to stop?”
Everything inside of her screams “No!” but she’s just too preoccupied to do anything more than shake her head. “Thought so.” If he keeps on using this low, kind of velvety voice and doing that drawing out the vowels thing all evening, she really is gonna be a puddle of goo before he gets past her collar bones. “And remember to keep your eyes closed.” She can’t help sighing deeply… because in addition to the voice that vibrates right in her ear, his scent has changed very slightly… just a little more tangy… like the clean soap smell is slowly giving way to his scent. Automatically, she draws him closer to her, in an attempt to get more of that scent… more of him.
It slowly dawns on her that she doesn’t need her eyes to “see” his body. So as hard as it still is - with her issues about being in the dark and everything - she manages to keep her eyes closed and use her other senses. First thing she does on purpose to try out that new way of seeing is to feel around with her right hand and bury it in the hair she’d wanted to run it through ever since realizing who it was that sat beside her. The grin she feels against her shoulder’s skin tells her he isn't averse to her taking a little more active part.
And she honestly would if… his fingers weren’t playing over areas of her skin that didn’t get out of the explosion unscathed. She really wishes he wouldn’t do that. As hard as it is to admit it, she is actually embarrassed about them. They aren’t really ugly, but… not exactly pretty either. The thought of him seeing and feeling that… “Evan…”
Instead of answering her with words, he just takes her hand and puts it to his side… she can feel a strange structure there… it’s a scar… pretty big from what she can feel. She wonders what the story behind it is and her hand keeps lingering a tad longer there while the other one starts flitting over his chest and abdomen, making him gasp and retaliate by moving his attention further south. From there on thoughts about burned tissue, blindness, outward appearances… seem to become less and less important with every minute.
She even starts to be glad he insisted on her keeping her eyes closed. It makes this all the more special, seeing as this is their first time and she gets so much more of him. There’s also a permanent element of surprise, keeping her on the edge, urging her forward, making her finally take over because she just feels like bursting from the sensory overload… until both of them can’t hold it anymore and meet a mutual release.
When it happens… it actually keeps both of them speechless for a little while. She feels him sliding down on the bed beside her and because she wants to keep on feeling him close to her she turns to face him and snuggles up against him, entwining her legs with his, breathing in his scent, listening to his heart beat. She feels his arm winding around her and hug her even closer. “You know… I really think you can open your eyes again.”
Is that an amused smile in his voice? “Oh, maybe I don’t want to open them.” At that, his chest rises and falls with something that feels and sounds like a breath of relief and she feels a light kiss on her hair.
“Alright… good enough for me.” That’s all he says, or at least all she registers before drifting off to the place she has been afraid of for so long now, finally tired and calmed down enough not to be terrified of it anymore.