ikissdhimbck | OOM: Room #100

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OOM: Room #100 - for Doc Scurlock

[following this:]

It's been a while since Kate has spent any considerable amount of time in her own room, so it has remained rather tidy. The only real exceptions are a stack of clean laundry on her desk chair she hasn't gotten to yet, and the bedspread, which is a little disheveled from stolen naps here and there between checking on and being with Doc. On her desk is the book of poetry she had taken from his room, along with the little orange paper crane that marks her place. The poetry and favors from the wake are spread out, including several little steel green cranes, which sit awkward and deformed in some small way ('first attempts' at origami that weren't so bad as to throw away). There's also a rather extraordinary little music box, and a half-eaten box of chocolate. On the table in the corner, there are a few newspapers and posters, handmade notes about Cuero, and the like.

The real focus of attention, however, is the bathroom; complete with all its fancy little soaps, and relaxing scents, and nice, hot water. That's Kate's focus, at least, once she unlocks her door and steps inside.

.

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She watches his approach, mind drifting. It started with a bottle of perfume she purchased from this beautiful blue woman -- Zhaan.

(She bought the scent for Doc; after he left, she'd wanted something to make her feel more appealing.)

"It's, um. White Pepper. S'not as strong as the sweet water I used t'git on occasion."

She watches the ground when he comes close to her.

"Y'like it?"

He steps in close enough to press a gentle kiss to her shoulder, in the process he inhales more of that sweet scent, closing his eyes.

"More'n like it," he responds. "Love it."

She shivers as his breath ghosts across her neck, feeling the delicate hairs on her neck stand on end.

She tries to restrain a smile, and fails.

(It seems there can be some good things about having to start over again fresh -- experiencing tender moments like these for a second time is one.)

"I'm glad."

She tips her head towards his, gently nuzzling his ear.

"S'like...perfect combination...it ain't too sweet, but it ain't too spicy...kinda like you. Perfect."

He opens his eyes and moves to step back, but pauses as he notices the scar tissue on her shoulder, tilting his head curiously.

(That wasn't there before.)

Doc gently presses his fingertips against one edge of the old wound. He doesn't look at her, because he's focused on the tough skin, mind wondering what treatment may have helped it heal better.

"Was this from...?"

She snickers huskily as he compares the scent with her personality. When he steps back, she opens her eyes and then her mouth, ready to make a teasing remark in return.

His hesitation and the slant of his eyes still her tongue, however, and when she realizes what's caught his attention her heart skips a beat.

Her hand goes to cover the scar, but she covers his hand instead.

"I should throw somethin' on. My robe..."

She swallows, shaking her head as if to clear away the cobwebs, and takes a step back to reach for the door.

"'Scuse me a minute?"

He curls his fingers around hers.

"Y'dont--"

Doc looks up at her, then, trying to convey what he's trying to say with his eyes. It doesn't work, all that well, so he finally decides to speak at last.

"Y'don't gotta hide 'em from me, Kate."

She bows her head.

'Y'don't gotta hide 'em from me, Kate.'

(Just the words she needed to hear.)

"I..."

She gives his hand a gentle squeeze, and nods.

"I know they ain't... pretty."

"Mine ain't pretty either, but y'still love me."

It's no different.

"They don't make you ugly. Nothin' could, in my eyes."

"That's... different."

She shakes her head, almost as if she already knows she's wrong.

She nervously wets her lips.

"I never got it looked at. It healed up strangely. But it... it's nothin', just a scratch. Nothin' like--"

what happened to you.

Wisely, she stops that thought before voicing it.

"Don't matter what it look like or how it healed up. Y'don't gotta feel like y'need t'hide it."

He pulls his hand back and then studies her face.

You feel guilty about what happened to me, when not much happened to you, other than that scratch...

...but you lost me.

I should have had it so much worse. I should have died, not you. It was my fight; my fault.

She fingers the white, gnarled tissue. It's a constant reminder of what happened, both good and bad.

"I know, I just... It's not... what I wanted."

No, that came out backwards.

(It's not what you wanted.)

((Do you still want me?))

"It won't go away."

I made mistakes I can't ever make up for. Blood on my hands I can't ever scrub clean. You haven't touched me yet. I'm not sure if I want you to. Am I still desirable?

"That ain't going to change the fact that I love you with all my heart, or that I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on."

He shifts his arm, moving to wrap it around her, while his lips fall to that scarred patch of skin on her shoulder. They linger in a kiss, before he whispers his next words.

"You are the only woman I want, and the only woman I will ever want."

Her breath catches in her throat when he moves his mouth over her scar. She doesn't know why, but her eyes begin to sting.

(It's tears of relief flooding her vision.)

"Y'mean that?"

She immediately feels self-centered, asking him such a question, but sometimes a woman needs to hear the words to remind her that she is attractive.

That she's loved.

That she's worth it.

"I wouldn't had said it if I didn't," he promises. "I mean it, Kate. I don't want nobody else but you. I couldn't even imagine such a thing, it ain't right. I'm in love with you, no matter what scars y'got or what we're in the middle of."

He kisses the scar once again, before he moves to nuzzle gently at her neck, pressing lingering kisses against the water droplets left by her still-damp hair.

She gasps quietly as his short beard tickles and scratches her warm skin, feeling a tremble race through her belly.

It seems it's Doc's turn to turn Kate on, this time. And, despite the fact that she's, perhaps, not quite as obvious anatomically as he is, he'll be able to tell when one hand snakes up the back of his neck and buries itself in his hair.

"Thank you."

She nuzzles into his neck, giving him better access to her throat, and shifts on the balls of her feet.

"Thank you."

He responds without words, but with actions; ducking his head to allow his mouth better access to the hollow of her throat, he wraps his arm around her a bit more securely (possessively) and pulls her closer.

Another gasp, and this time she can't restrain the quiet moan that escapes her mouth.

The hand that's not currently knotted in his hair is clutching tightly at her towel, oh-so-tempted to let go so she can wrap herself around his body, but protectively keeping the knot in the terrycloth in place.

"I love you. I'd do anythin' for you."

"And I'd do anythin' for you. M'completely yours, darlin'."

The close proximity of their bodies, plus the earlier 'wrestling match' in the snow outside, is giving Doc motivation to 'convince her' to get rid of that towel so he can show her just how much he loves her.

But he won't, not now.

I'm not going to screw this up.

"Completely," he kisses her again. "Yours."

She tips her head in the other direction, so she can claim his mouth with her own. It's not an innocent peck or a tender smooch -- her typical fare, since he's been back. It's deep and probing -- not rough, or overly aggressive, but passionate and sincere, pouring all her gratitude and affection for him into one, sweet, lingering gesture.

When they break, she continues to pepper his mouth with gentle kisses, tongue and teeth lingering over his lips. Her hand slips from his hair to rest against his cheek, her thumb brushing tender strokes under his eye.

"You mean so much t'me," she murmurs against his moist skin, unable to pull away. "So much."

"Y'mean..."

Everything.

His words are cut off by a quiet groan as a shiver rips down his spine; his cold skin is practically on fire everywhere her lips and hands touch.

He wants more of it -- needs more of it.

There's a warning bell ringing distantly, somewhere in the back of her mind.

You have to tell him.

She squeezes her eyes shut tightly, ignoring the thought. She won't get carried away; she won't. She just wants to keep him close for a little while, to feel his mouth on hers, to feel that pleasant warmth in the pit of her stomach.

She feels as if she might break, should she leave his embrace.

He continues to kiss her, mouth pressing firmly against hers. Passion and a hint of possession, to remind her of his promise.

Don't take it too far.

After a moment, he breaks the kiss -- but not the embrace.

"Yours."

She spends a long time just trying to catch her breath, eyes closed to the world so she can better concentrate on the warmth of his body and the tingle in her spine.

She licks her lips to savor his taste, and nods, before opening her eyes again.

She doesn't need to tell him that she's his; it's written all over her face, and spoken in the wordless way she lets him possess her.

"Y'... y'still wanted t'warm up a bit?"

"Well, m'pretty warm now," he admits, a sly smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth.

Doc shakes his head.

"Could use t'shower, real quick...if you're sure y'don't mind?"

There's a soft blush in her cheeks from her own 'heat'. She smirks lopsidedly, and nods her head.

"Don't mind. I'll jus' gather my things up an' be outta your hair."

It'll give her some time and space to calm down -- which, at this point, she desperately needs.

Reluctantly, she steps back and gathers her clothes.

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