Fic: Look at What's Been Seen (Will/Emma, R)
Title: Look at What's Been Seen
Author: vlegal
Pairing: Will/Emma
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Glee and its characters belong to Fox and Ryan Murphy. I intend no rights infringement.
Summary: She'd rather stay where she was and...look.
Author's Note: Hi, kids. Not much to see her. Actually, lots to see :) Just some fluff that was floating through my brain. Not particularly smutty, but I gave it the rating I did just to be safe. Enjoy!
Emma squeezed her eyes shut tighter, trying to block out the light. She knew it was still early, she could feel that it was still early. But apparently the sun didn’t care. Usually this wasn’t a problem. Emma’s bedroom windows faced west. She could stay cocooned in the darkness all morning if she wanted to on a Saturday like this. Light wouldn’t creep through the drapes until well after noon.
But Will’s bedroom faced east. Which meant beams of sunlight rousing her at - she checked the clocked behind her - 5:14 am.
She couldn’t remember the last time she woke up with the sun. She couldn’t remember the last time she woke up in a bed that wasn’t her own. Or, wait. Yes she could. That would be never.
She took a moment to take in her surroundings. There was no use trying to get back to sleep, not with the light in her eyes. And she just didn’t have the energy (or the desire) to get up and close the blinds. She’d rather stay where she was and…look.
Look at the soft blue sheets that kept her just warm enough pulled up to her waist, but hadn’t caused her to overheat in the night. Look at the clean white walls, accented by dark wooden furniture. Pictures here and there. A large black and white canvas of what looked like the New York skyline hanging on the wall by the door. Look at the pieces of clothes scattered across the floor - dark wash jeans, red blouse, black v-neck, brown satin bra - that she assured herself were fine where they were for another few hours.
Her eyes finally settled on the object closest to them. He was sound asleep, the soft light that showered his face not bothering him one bit. Memories of the night flooded her mind. The way he spoke. The way he moved. The way he felt. The way he smelled. She had tried to imagine their first night together so many times, but even her most elaborate fantasies paled to the honest, incredible reality she’d experienced.
They’d taken their time. Explored each other slowly. She’d felt the softness of his skin and the strength of his frame, committing his body to memory. Although she realized, lying here as the room grew brighter and brighter, she had made these mental images of him by touch alone. All had happened in the dark (which at the time she had been grateful for. Getting over one’s bashfulness wasn’t a one-step process.). Last night, she had learned Will Schuester in a way she knew no one else, and he in turn had learned her. But through all the caresses of lips and hands and words, she still hadn’t really seen him.
But where she lay now, head pillowed on his outstretched arm, face level with his shoulders, breaths coming from his parted lips tickling her forehead, she was able to take a moment to just look. Learn him with her eyes this time. Understand in detail how impossibly beautiful he was.
Her hand moved of its own accord to the arm that lay across his stomach. Her fingers ghosted a path over the sinews and hairs, her eyes following close behind. Long forearms, sharp angles of bone at his elbow, tan skin that became pale and baby soft where she grazed his inner bicep. His arms had made her feel feather light last night, effortlessly lifting her off the ground, cradling her securely against his chest as he crossed the room, and depositing her gently on the bed. She was sure that from now on, she wouldn’t be able to look at his arms without wanting to feel them wrapped around her.
Emma’s hand drifted across Will’s shoulder and began to draw light circles over his chest. His breathing remained even, his face relaxed and calm. She didn’t want her touch to wake him. No need for both of them to be up at the crack of dawn. And she didn’t want to be caught in her little indulgence. But she didn’t want to stop touching him either. Or looking at him. She became mesmerized by the patterns her fingers were making. First a figure-eight over one well-defined pec, then the other. Swirl gently around a nipple, then back up through the sparse hairs towards his collarbone. Repeat. If she were being really and truly honest and not at all the polite and proper Emma Pillsbury that she was, she would have to admit she’d been dying to touch his chest. And not just through his t-shirts or button-downs as she had on many other occasions. When he had laid down next to her last night, shirt gone (his doing) and jeans partially unbuttoned (her doing) she’d been overcome with want for him. Which is probably what had driven her to do one of the boldest things she’d ever done. Without a shy or anxious thought in her head, she had brought her lips down to the plane of muscle beneath her and placed first one, then two kisses around where she imagined his heart to be. Moments later, the realization of what she’d just done caught up with her and she had blushed furiously. Did he think she was silly or shallow for lunging at his chest like that? Was she too forward? They were lying in his bed half naked, had she not been forward enough? Her questions were answered in the way he groaned, deep and low and rich. Her instincts had been just right and she brought her mouth back to where it had been, this time kissing and nipping a small, slow trail all the way up to his throat. The moan that had rippled through him at that (‘Jeeeesus, Emma…’) was in stark contrast to the steady rise and fall of his chest now. She continued stroking his skin a little longer, trying to decide which she liked better.
Her fingers eventually migrated down over his ribs, each ridge not prominent, but causing her fingertips to move in a little wave. She was extra careful to keep her touch light here, allowing her path to continue over his stomach and circle his bellybutton. Apparently her touch wasn’t light enough, as she saw his muscle and skin twitch slightly in places. Is this how it had looked last night when she had dragged her nails across the same place? It had been a natural response to the way he’d been kissing her neck, his fingers warm and teasing against her breasts. She hadn’t expected how he would suddenly shift and squirm. Will Schuester, ticklish? She smiled again at the thought as she had last night, this time seeing for herself the spots that caused a reaction, even in his sleep.
She reached her hand as far across him as she could, fingers getting to his exposed hipbone and upper thigh and not much further. He had kicked off the sheet from the side of his body not pressed against hers in the night. She itched to touch the sight stretched out before her, long and lean. But she didn’t want to shift from where she was curled at his side and wake him. She would just have to be content with looking and stroking what skin she could, which at that moment was the side of his hip where bone started to become softer flesh. What she had felt of his legs last night had been power. And strength. The muscles of his thighs had contracted and strained against her own, moving him, moving her, maintaining a rhythm that had left them both gasping in the end. He had been in control, the power in his legs and the rest of his body maneuvering them to a type of ecstasy that she had only ever heard about. But not for a moment had she felt scared. Or overpowered. Or dominated. Will, in all his strength, moved within her so carefully, a sense of reverence in every way he touched her, she felt nothing but safe and adored.
He shifted in his sleep, bending his outstretched leg, accentuating its lines and muscles, making Emma’s hand itch even more to run along it. Finally getting to see his physique with her eyes only made her want to touch him more. She dragged her fingers back across his stomach, over the sandy, coarser hair that drew a line from his bellybutton down beneath the sheet. She blushed at seeing how the sheet had also moved over the course of her explorations, her touch clearly having an effect on Will even while he was asleep. It was going to take some getting used to the idea that she could have that effect on someone, let alone someone as incredible as him. She brushed her fingers up over his abs, across his chest once more, her eyes following along. So beautiful. She froze just at his throat, her gaze having reached his face.
“Don’t let me stop you,” he rumbled, his voice deeper and rougher just out of sleep. The hazel of his eyes shone from the sunlight hitting them as he looked down at her. Busted.
“Sorry,” she whispered and ducked her head.
Will moved down the bed a little and onto his side, face-to-face with her and smiling. “Why sorry?”
“I couldn’t help…looking. At you. And touching you. While you slept. That’s really creepy, isn’t it?”
He brought his face closer to hers, nudging her nose with his for a moment and then hovering over her lips. “More like sexy as hell,” he breathed before kissing her, long and slow and deep. After a few moments, he pulled back, tugging the sheet down and off where it draped over her. The way he wiggled his eyebrows and grinned, she knew there was no resisting him and his whispered request. “Mind if I return the favour?”
*******************************************
Any feedback is fabulous feedback!
Author: vlegal
Pairing: Will/Emma
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Glee and its characters belong to Fox and Ryan Murphy. I intend no rights infringement.
Summary: She'd rather stay where she was and...look.
Author's Note: Hi, kids. Not much to see her. Actually, lots to see :) Just some fluff that was floating through my brain. Not particularly smutty, but I gave it the rating I did just to be safe. Enjoy!
Emma squeezed her eyes shut tighter, trying to block out the light. She knew it was still early, she could feel that it was still early. But apparently the sun didn’t care. Usually this wasn’t a problem. Emma’s bedroom windows faced west. She could stay cocooned in the darkness all morning if she wanted to on a Saturday like this. Light wouldn’t creep through the drapes until well after noon.
But Will’s bedroom faced east. Which meant beams of sunlight rousing her at - she checked the clocked behind her - 5:14 am.
She couldn’t remember the last time she woke up with the sun. She couldn’t remember the last time she woke up in a bed that wasn’t her own. Or, wait. Yes she could. That would be never.
She took a moment to take in her surroundings. There was no use trying to get back to sleep, not with the light in her eyes. And she just didn’t have the energy (or the desire) to get up and close the blinds. She’d rather stay where she was and…look.
Look at the soft blue sheets that kept her just warm enough pulled up to her waist, but hadn’t caused her to overheat in the night. Look at the clean white walls, accented by dark wooden furniture. Pictures here and there. A large black and white canvas of what looked like the New York skyline hanging on the wall by the door. Look at the pieces of clothes scattered across the floor - dark wash jeans, red blouse, black v-neck, brown satin bra - that she assured herself were fine where they were for another few hours.
Her eyes finally settled on the object closest to them. He was sound asleep, the soft light that showered his face not bothering him one bit. Memories of the night flooded her mind. The way he spoke. The way he moved. The way he felt. The way he smelled. She had tried to imagine their first night together so many times, but even her most elaborate fantasies paled to the honest, incredible reality she’d experienced.
They’d taken their time. Explored each other slowly. She’d felt the softness of his skin and the strength of his frame, committing his body to memory. Although she realized, lying here as the room grew brighter and brighter, she had made these mental images of him by touch alone. All had happened in the dark (which at the time she had been grateful for. Getting over one’s bashfulness wasn’t a one-step process.). Last night, she had learned Will Schuester in a way she knew no one else, and he in turn had learned her. But through all the caresses of lips and hands and words, she still hadn’t really seen him.
But where she lay now, head pillowed on his outstretched arm, face level with his shoulders, breaths coming from his parted lips tickling her forehead, she was able to take a moment to just look. Learn him with her eyes this time. Understand in detail how impossibly beautiful he was.
Her hand moved of its own accord to the arm that lay across his stomach. Her fingers ghosted a path over the sinews and hairs, her eyes following close behind. Long forearms, sharp angles of bone at his elbow, tan skin that became pale and baby soft where she grazed his inner bicep. His arms had made her feel feather light last night, effortlessly lifting her off the ground, cradling her securely against his chest as he crossed the room, and depositing her gently on the bed. She was sure that from now on, she wouldn’t be able to look at his arms without wanting to feel them wrapped around her.
Emma’s hand drifted across Will’s shoulder and began to draw light circles over his chest. His breathing remained even, his face relaxed and calm. She didn’t want her touch to wake him. No need for both of them to be up at the crack of dawn. And she didn’t want to be caught in her little indulgence. But she didn’t want to stop touching him either. Or looking at him. She became mesmerized by the patterns her fingers were making. First a figure-eight over one well-defined pec, then the other. Swirl gently around a nipple, then back up through the sparse hairs towards his collarbone. Repeat. If she were being really and truly honest and not at all the polite and proper Emma Pillsbury that she was, she would have to admit she’d been dying to touch his chest. And not just through his t-shirts or button-downs as she had on many other occasions. When he had laid down next to her last night, shirt gone (his doing) and jeans partially unbuttoned (her doing) she’d been overcome with want for him. Which is probably what had driven her to do one of the boldest things she’d ever done. Without a shy or anxious thought in her head, she had brought her lips down to the plane of muscle beneath her and placed first one, then two kisses around where she imagined his heart to be. Moments later, the realization of what she’d just done caught up with her and she had blushed furiously. Did he think she was silly or shallow for lunging at his chest like that? Was she too forward? They were lying in his bed half naked, had she not been forward enough? Her questions were answered in the way he groaned, deep and low and rich. Her instincts had been just right and she brought her mouth back to where it had been, this time kissing and nipping a small, slow trail all the way up to his throat. The moan that had rippled through him at that (‘Jeeeesus, Emma…’) was in stark contrast to the steady rise and fall of his chest now. She continued stroking his skin a little longer, trying to decide which she liked better.
Her fingers eventually migrated down over his ribs, each ridge not prominent, but causing her fingertips to move in a little wave. She was extra careful to keep her touch light here, allowing her path to continue over his stomach and circle his bellybutton. Apparently her touch wasn’t light enough, as she saw his muscle and skin twitch slightly in places. Is this how it had looked last night when she had dragged her nails across the same place? It had been a natural response to the way he’d been kissing her neck, his fingers warm and teasing against her breasts. She hadn’t expected how he would suddenly shift and squirm. Will Schuester, ticklish? She smiled again at the thought as she had last night, this time seeing for herself the spots that caused a reaction, even in his sleep.
She reached her hand as far across him as she could, fingers getting to his exposed hipbone and upper thigh and not much further. He had kicked off the sheet from the side of his body not pressed against hers in the night. She itched to touch the sight stretched out before her, long and lean. But she didn’t want to shift from where she was curled at his side and wake him. She would just have to be content with looking and stroking what skin she could, which at that moment was the side of his hip where bone started to become softer flesh. What she had felt of his legs last night had been power. And strength. The muscles of his thighs had contracted and strained against her own, moving him, moving her, maintaining a rhythm that had left them both gasping in the end. He had been in control, the power in his legs and the rest of his body maneuvering them to a type of ecstasy that she had only ever heard about. But not for a moment had she felt scared. Or overpowered. Or dominated. Will, in all his strength, moved within her so carefully, a sense of reverence in every way he touched her, she felt nothing but safe and adored.
He shifted in his sleep, bending his outstretched leg, accentuating its lines and muscles, making Emma’s hand itch even more to run along it. Finally getting to see his physique with her eyes only made her want to touch him more. She dragged her fingers back across his stomach, over the sandy, coarser hair that drew a line from his bellybutton down beneath the sheet. She blushed at seeing how the sheet had also moved over the course of her explorations, her touch clearly having an effect on Will even while he was asleep. It was going to take some getting used to the idea that she could have that effect on someone, let alone someone as incredible as him. She brushed her fingers up over his abs, across his chest once more, her eyes following along. So beautiful. She froze just at his throat, her gaze having reached his face.
“Don’t let me stop you,” he rumbled, his voice deeper and rougher just out of sleep. The hazel of his eyes shone from the sunlight hitting them as he looked down at her. Busted.
“Sorry,” she whispered and ducked her head.
Will moved down the bed a little and onto his side, face-to-face with her and smiling. “Why sorry?”
“I couldn’t help…looking. At you. And touching you. While you slept. That’s really creepy, isn’t it?”
He brought his face closer to hers, nudging her nose with his for a moment and then hovering over her lips. “More like sexy as hell,” he breathed before kissing her, long and slow and deep. After a few moments, he pulled back, tugging the sheet down and off where it draped over her. The way he wiggled his eyebrows and grinned, she knew there was no resisting him and his whispered request. “Mind if I return the favour?”
*******************************************
Any feedback is fabulous feedback!