Katherine "Kissin' Kate" Barlow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ikissdhimbck) wrote2009-12-31 07:35 am
ikissdhimbck) wrote2009-12-31 07:35 am
Entry tags:
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.
.
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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He smiles and glances up into her eyes.
"All I've got is with you."
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She nuzzles up against his shoulder, pressing her lips against his pink scar.
"What if we don't ever have anythin' t'show for ourselves?"
Her fingers feather along his waist, dancing along the curve of his hip.
"No land, no home... no money or reputation. No finery...?"
Beat.
"No children?"
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Doc closes his eyes.
No land. No home. No children.
"As long as I've got you in my arms, m'holdin' tight t'the whole universe."
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She swallows, not looking away from his closed eyes, though there's a soft furrow to her brow.
"Doc, I--"
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"What is it, darlin'?"
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Her jaw works silently around an invisible muzzle, and she feels suddenly nervous.
She leans in and kisses him. It's desperation -- reaffirmation -- need and desire. She's not rough or insistent, though her hand snakes up behind his ear, fingers threading into his hair, and she kisses him again. And again.
And again.
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The words are muttered between her kisses, and he's not rough in response. He is very thorough, intent on kissing the hell out of her while he's got the opportunity.
I'm here. We're safe. Not leaving you.
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She curls her fingers tight in his hair as her other hand slips around the back of his head. She doesn't even realize that her body has begun to shift against his -- perhaps in an effort to put out all those little white flames.
She wants him closer.
She needs him here.
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His lungs are protesting for oxygen, but he doesn't really give a damn. Not when she's curling her fingers tight in his hair and running her nails across his scalp.
He needs her just as badly; if not more.
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She can tell he needs her just as badly as she does him; if not more.
She wraps her arms snug around him, and rambles between kisses, fevered and quick -- her mouth never leaves his for more than a nanosecond, tongue and teeth busy with every inch of him she can find.
"Everything .... all I have ... s'yours. I'd give you .... anything. But ... I'm scared I ... I can't give you ... everythin' you need. ...Everythin' you want. I don't ... ever ... want t'disappoint you..."
She whimpers, but the sound is lost against his tongue.
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Doc breaks the kiss for more than a brief second, trying to clear his brain and wipe away the haze of fog and lust and want and a million other things.
"You could never disappoint. M'the luckiest son of a...gun...in the territories. I got the most beautiful...intelligent...carin' and kind...woman in the universe right here, in m'arms. M'grateful every day for the chance t'wake up beside you."
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"Didn't do things right."
She shakes her head, swallowing to moisten her throat.
"Before. With the other... with the other you. I wish... I wish I hadn't been so... so weak back then."
She squeezes her eyes shut, letting out a mirthless laugh.
"M'weak now. Weak for you."
She trails the tip of her nose along his scruffy jaw, stopping only when her lips can get at his throat. She gives that sweet spot he has right under the curve of his jaw slow attention.
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Holy mother--
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Her teeth scrape that sensitive spot.
"So weak."
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He gasps as his brain refires and his lungs fill with oxygen, almost dizzy with desire as he leans in for another searing kiss.
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No, no, no, there was something... something... She was trying to say something, wasn't she?
She arches her back, shivering with delight as his body meets hers, snug together.
To hell with it.
Her hands slide down his back, not stopping until they've breached the waistband of his flannels again.