Katherine "Kissin' Kate" Barlow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ikissdhimbck) wrote2009-08-28 11:35 pm
ikissdhimbck) wrote2009-08-28 11:35 pm
Entry tags:
OOM: Room #100
[following this:]
It's not the most romantic, or passionate, or perfect reunion in the world. There are the common problems that come with two people reacquainting themselves with each other, plus the nervousness of a novice and the eagerness of a man who's waited ten years for this moment.
However, their second go round goes off with much better success, for both parties. It's a learning process, committed with whispers and moans, gentle fingertips and patient bodies. Affection, tenderness, and devotion between two people not without their failings, but who haven't completely forgotten what it feels like to work together.
It's past sundown at this point, a red sunset painting the walls of Kate's room as Doc sleeps soundly in a tangle of sheets and blankets. The light breakfast Bar had brought up to the room earlier has been picked at, and now Kate is sitting on the back of the armchair again, a silk robe wrapped around her body and her hair loose at her shoulders, as she watches the sky burn.
It's not the most romantic, or passionate, or perfect reunion in the world. There are the common problems that come with two people reacquainting themselves with each other, plus the nervousness of a novice and the eagerness of a man who's waited ten years for this moment.
However, their second go round goes off with much better success, for both parties. It's a learning process, committed with whispers and moans, gentle fingertips and patient bodies. Affection, tenderness, and devotion between two people not without their failings, but who haven't completely forgotten what it feels like to work together.
It's past sundown at this point, a red sunset painting the walls of Kate's room as Doc sleeps soundly in a tangle of sheets and blankets. The light breakfast Bar had brought up to the room earlier has been picked at, and now Kate is sitting on the back of the armchair again, a silk robe wrapped around her body and her hair loose at her shoulders, as she watches the sky burn.
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She lets out a breath she didn't even know she was holding when he closes his eyes. She hasn't seen him with that look before, and she's not sure if it terrifies her or confuses her more.
She adjusts herself until she's on her knees, both hands cupping his face. Her robe falls loose at her shoulders, kept on her body by nothing more than the silken sash around her waist.
"I'm sorry."
She mumbles the words into his bed of soft hair, running her fingers through the hair past his ears soothingly.
"Maybe y'should take me back t'bed."
Beat.
"Whatever's left of it."
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Doc blinks eyes open again, and the fire has faded a bit but it's still there underneath...something else.
He glances at her, then over at the bed.
A slight smirk (it's a weak joke forming, but he can't help it) tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"Whatever it is, it ain't much."
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"Half of it is around your hips," she mutters teasingly.
She draws her hands down his face and along his neck, dragging them down over his chest and to his abdomen.
"Maybe I should make y'go fix it up, 'fore I have you carry me back over there."
She nuzzles into the crook of his neck seductively. There's plenty of time to think about all the things they've done wrong later; for right now, his body provides an excellent distraction from everything she's not strong enough to face just yet.
"Doc? I'm sorry. I don't want you worryin' 'bout me like that."
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He runs a hand down her back, before shifting in the chair.
"And ain't no point in me fixin' it up if we're just gonna tear it apart again," he quips, before wrapping an arm around one of her legs. "So I think I'll just carry y'back over there without botherin' with the sheets."
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She isn't arguing to the way his hands move over her body, however.
Momentarily resting her head on his shoulder, she tips her head back slightly so she can see his face. They haven't talked -- not about everything -- but it's easier trying to distract him than it is trying to comfort him, or seek him out for comfort. So she keeps her mouth shut.
Tomorrow she will worry about Esfir, and Ramon, and Bill, and Doc. Tomorrow she will be serious, think through her options. Tonight...
"Don't go tearin' it up too bad. Not sure my muscles have ever been this sore b'fore. So you best be gentle with me."
Tonight she'll forget.
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He will never hurt her.
(Not intentionally.)
Tomorrow he will worry about the world outside her door, about Ramon, about how to keep her safe and what the hell he's going to do now that he's found the bar again. But not right now.
Not tonight.
Doc presses his lips against her neck in a lingering kiss, before he rises from the chair, her in his arms.
The only thing he'll worry about tonight, is her.