ikissdhimbck | OOM: Room #100 -- For Tommy Gavin

She isn't going to last much longer.

Her skin is singing, her heart fit to burst, and everything has narrowed down, down, down to the breadth of a pinhead. Pleasure, and pain, and a burning in her lungs, half-moons in her palm from clenching her hand so tight. Mouth ajar, silent screams on her tongue; her stomach contracts, jumps, rises.

"Tommy!"

She shudders, throwing her head back. She arches against him, stars behind fiercely clamped eyelids, and goes taut as a bowstring. Her hands slide to his backside and press him closer, nails digging into his skin.

He can feel her start to unravel as her body's reactions push him to his own knife's edge. Moving on adrenaline and endorphins, he continues thrusting, his rhythm growing more and more erratic. But eventually every muscle begins to burn with the strain of holding back, of keeping this going for as long as he can, and when she finally breaks--

"Oh God--"

Caught up in her waves, he comes hard and fast, the suddenness of it knocking the wind out of him and leaving him gasping for air.

He turns leaden on top of her, their skin plastered together by sweat. Reluctant to even try to move, he remains panting heavily into the crook of her neck.

For moments that seem to stretch on forever, she's overwhelmed. Her body is humming with a release that's been a long time coming, waves of ecstasy crashing into her again and again. Her throat burns, and it's only when she starts to come down that she realizes tears are running into her hair.

Her body aches, and with a heaviness deep in her bones she slowly moves, first stretching her toes, then gingerly uncurling her legs from his hips.

"Mmmm."

She keeps her eyes closed, concentrating on the hard thrum of her heart and the way their skin clings to each other.

The insides of her thighs are warm and damp, and as her legs slip loose, the cool air hits his skin where they'd been clamped around his waist.

He's vaguely aware of...other things. Whatever.

Right now he's just catching his breath.

"Holy shit," he manages to murmur into her hair, as his senses eventually come back to him.

Slowly raising himself up off her body, still reluctant to break contact, he flops over onto his back beside her with a sigh. He sweeps his sweat-soaked hair from his forehead and stares up at the ceiling, blinking the last stars from his eyes.

She grimaces, holding her breath as he pulls out. When she finally exhales it comes out in a groan. She refuses to whimper, no matter how he makes her feel.

She takes a moment to draw in a few sweet breaths now that his weight is off her chest. She crosses an arm over her breasts to manufacture some sense of decency, knee bent and leg partially crossed.

"Jesus."

The fingers of her free hand are resting near his hip. Gathering all of her reserves, she moves them the few impossible inches closer, brushing his hipbone.

Heaving another heavy sigh, he turns his head to look at her, somewhat bleary-eyed, just as her fingers come to touch him. His hand gropes for hers.

"Well," he rasps, his throat dry, "that was awesome."

His crooked grin may just be a little loopy.

She chokes on a laugh.

Her hand slowly twines with his, linking their fingers. She turns her head a fraction, and catches his eyes.

"Yeah?"

Her expression is dazed, but earnest. She smiles lazily.

"Yeah."

He squeezes her hand.

"Totally worth all the animal interruptions so far."

She laughs under her breath, though even that takes effort. She tilts her face against the mattress, drying her tears in her hair.

Her voice quavers, though it's hard to tell whether it's from the exhaustion, the tears, or something else entirely.

"An' there hasn't been any permanent damage, I see. S'good."

"Nope, nothing that I can feel right now, but I might feel something tomorrow, but that'll probably feel a lot better than having fallen off the bed or getting bit on the ass."

It's then that he notices that her eyes are moist, and he frowns a little.

"You okay?"

She nods.

"Yeah. M'fine."

She'll definitely feel something tomorrow, whether or not Tommy does. But the discomfort doesn't worry her much; it'll get easier, that much she remembers. Right now she just feels boneless, and a little hollow, like everything she's been holding onto so tight for the last several years has left her in one great flood, and there's nothing to fill the void.

"Alright..."

He eyes her for a bit, still holding her hand.

There are several things he can do right now. And he's not sure which one to go with. Which one she'd want.

The tears kind of threw him off.

He rolls over a little and plants a kiss on her shoulder, his lips lingering for a bit.

"Want a glass of water?"

Just to buy some time.

"Mmm."

She combs her fingers through his hair, brushing those unruly bangs away from his eyes.

"I'd love one."

He presses his lips to her shoulder again, his eyelids falling closed for a moment as she brushes his hair away.

"'Kay."

His fingers slide from hers, and he rolls back over to scoot off the bed, pulling his pants up at the same time.

He hasn't even taken his boots off either -- it's a habit. Just in case whoever he's with decides to kick him out.

Taking a drinking glass off the desk, he heads to the washroom when he pauses with his hand on the knob.

"Guess I can let the cats out, huh?"

She watches him for a moment, her fingers brushing his spot when he rolls off the bed. Taking a quick look around, she spots his discarded t-shirt.

While his back is turned she reaches for it, tugging it on to cover her nakedness. She's just pulling her hair out of the neck when he reaches the bathroom door.

"Unless y'wanna have another romp later."

Her lips twitch, and she glances away, wiping the rest of the dampness from her temples.

He blinks thoughtfully, eyebrows raised.

"We'll see," he then says with faint smirk.

He could automatically take advantage of the implied invitation, but the way she rubs at her temples gives him pause. Still, he'll leave all options open. And leave the cats inside.

Pushing the door open just a crack, he slips inside and quickly shuts it behind him. He finds one cat huddled on the toilet seat lid. The other cat...is being a ninja, apparently.

Tommy glances around warily before he turns on the sink faucet, letting the water run cold. He fills the glass and chugs it down. After refilling it, he splashes some water on his face, and reaches for a towel to dry off.

(Her towel smells like her.)

Glass in hand, he turns back toward the door and--

"Jeez!"

The ninja cat has suddenly appeared, sitting on the floor in front of the door.

"The hell did you come from?"

Ninja cat only stares up at him.

With one foot, Tommy gently nudges the cat out of the way, and despite its curious nosing and pawing, he gets it far away enough from the door for Tommy to open it and squeeze out of the room without the cat following.

Kate's arching an eyebrow at his back.

"Roz givin' you trouble? I know he's intimidatin' an' all, Tommy, but I'll have you know I don't tolerate bullishness under my roof. If y'need me t'step in an' defend you ... "

She held onto the straight face as long as she could manage, but now it's everything she's got not to start chuckling.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he grumbles through a sharp but good-humored smirk as he crosses the room back toward the bed.

"In case you forgot, I have the glass of water right now." Holding it high above her, he threatens to splash her with it.

Those blue porcelain eyes go just as wide as could be. No baby deer could hold a candle to Kate right now.

"You wouldn't."

Edited 2012-08-18 05:32 (UTC)

There's a long pause.

He may or may not be taking her eyes into consideration.

"Nah, I wouldn't."

He grins and hands the glass of water to her.

"Besides, you're wearing my shirt and I'd hafta wait for it to dry."

"I'm glad y'have your priorities in order."

Her tone is as dry as the Sahara. She takes the glass from him and drinks about half before attempting to speak again.

"Thank you," she sighs. "You in a hurry t'get your shirt back?"

He gives a non-committal shrug.

"Not really."

It's her call.

His gaze wanders idly up her bare legs, pausing at the scar on her thigh. And then shifting up to the accompanying scar on her bicep.

"What's this?"

Sitting down on the edge of the bed by her hip, he reaches over and runs his hand lightly down her arm, stopping at the inside of her elbow, where the pad of his thumb fits almost exactly over the oval-shaped bruise.

"Shit."

He notices the same kind of mark on her other arm.

"Did I do this?" he says, apologetic. "Was it during the last time we-- y'know, when we were out by the barn and the rabbits attacked? 'Cause I remember-- well, I hardly remember exactly what happened, everything was such a blur. I must've grabbed you hard. Was it when we fell? Or before that, when I was on top of you and--? Probably when we fell."

She's just waiting for him to run out the door. She doesn't know what to expect; she's never done anything like this before, and, when it comes to men who keep a number of women on their hip, she's lost.

But he isn't running. Not yet, anyhow. She shifts to accommodate him when he sits beside her, eyes dropping to the graze on her bicep.

"That's when I was shot, out in the stables — "

His hand stops at her elbow and he curses, and she realizes he hadn't meant the scar. Her eyes flick to the bruise. It takes a minute for her to answer, and in that time he starts talking so much she isn't sure how to interrupt him. She shakes her head.

"No. No, this wasn't you. This was jus' an accident. Shh, don't worry."

She breathes a soft laugh, tipping forward to drop a kiss to his collarbone.

Edited 2012-08-18 07:46 (UTC)

He blinks at her, his palm still resting on her arm.

"Oh. Okay."

They still kind of look like finger-shaped bruises to him, but with the work that she does, they could've been from anything.

"What happened? One of your horses got the better of you?" He presses a lightly smirking kiss to her forehead.

"Somethin' got the better of me."

She smiles wanly in response to his kiss, turning her hand slightly to brush her fingers along his forearm.

She considers telling him the whole story, only the whole story ends with her and Voodoo kissing. Tommy's feelings aside, she's still upset about that. And in the deeply superstitious part of herself, she thinks maybe if she doesn't ever talk about it it'll be like it never happened, and Voodoo will stand a better chance of avoiding her cursed bad luck.

She swallows.

"I'm always gettin' bumps an' bruises. At least these are nothin' permanent. They'll fade in a few days, hopefully before Carlotta's weddin'. Guess I'll hafta be more careful 'til then."

She runs her hands down his arms, grasping his hands lightly, and smirks.

"If I'm gonna wear that purple dress."

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