captainryan | After River

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After River

He lays awake, staring at the ceiling, Damocles sprawled and snoring on the comforter next to him. The dog was pleased to have his place in the bed back, though he didn't understand why River wasn't staying again.

Richard wasn't too certain himself.

He hasn't seen her since after breakfast, since he took care of his morning exercises. It'd been nice to do something mindless that would wear him out in a completely different way and just run for a couple of hours.

But laying in bed waiting for sleep, there's nothing to distract his brain. He misses River terribly. Lovesick, sneers his mind. He agrees without contention. That much is pointless to fight.

What will you do when she leaves?
If she leaves.
They always leave.
He has no answer to that.
So when she follows through?
I'll deal with it then. Live and learn. The end of my lovelife is hardly the end of the world.
It'll feel that way.
I've dealt with worse.
It'll hurt.
I know.
And still...?
It's not like I have a lot of choice in the matter.
You could end it now.
He gives the ceiling a look that implies it's a great moron.
No. No, I don't suppose you could.
No.
Where does that leave us?
With a girlfriend, apparently.
Feels like more.
I know.
Could be worse.
Very much so.
Last night was fun.
He smiles.

Go to sleep, Richard.

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There is a subtle shift in the air, what little of it is between them. She felt it last night standing on the bridge in the mist. Whatever it was binding them together so powerfully, it began here and ended here. This was the thing she couldn't enumerate, but that had drawn her back to him, a comet trapped in his orbit.

She lifts her face to his kisses, her eyes closed, her lips parted. "My love."

Those are strong words. A part of him is always secretly amazed when he hears them, smells the truth behind them. She doesn't have to say it. He already knows.

He meets her lips and kisses them possessively.

She returns the kiss, winding her arms around his neck, tasting him all over again, drinking deeply and without reservation. Her fingertips graze through his hair, marking the lines of his skull, the muscles of his neck.

yours

After a long moment, she pulls back, grinning, nuzzling his cheek. "We should probably close the door and go to bed."

Richard nods mutely, tugging at her shirt a bit.

"You need to catch up," he teases, pulling at the cloth even as he steps away. He lets it snap back on a grin before he turns to peer up and down the hallway again.

The door closes with a firm click.

She steps back, waiting for him. Her boots are mysteriously already unlaced and she grins at him as she toes them off, carefully tucking them next to his.

"I guess I'd better. For the sake of my poor wardrobe," she teases as she untucks her shirt.

He doesn't look apologetic in the least as he prowls across the floor to her. His hands find the bottom button of her shirt, but his eyes are on hers, half-lidded and blinking slowly.

"Shall I assist?"

That look steals her breath away. She is transfixed by his gaze, her heart in her throat all over again.

She can't keep her hands from reaching for him, drifting up to rest lightly on his forearms. "Please."

He works at one button at a time, resisting the urge to just rip the shirt open. He contents himself by reaching for her mouth with his own, placing firm little kisses from there to up her jawline. He finds his way to her neck and nuzzles her as his hands slide up to find another button.

Her eyes close, intensifying her other senses, touch, smell, hearing. Her awareness folds down to these simple things.

The feel of his mouth against her own, the roughness of his beard, the touch of his lips on the delicate skin beneath her jaw. Goosebumps flare along the top of her shoulder.

The sound of his breath. She can hear him inhaling, drawing in her scent, drawing her into his body. The scent of his skin, smoke and earth, and something indefinably masculine. The heat of his body, radiating into her skin, warming her blood, her very bones, she thinks.

She sighs as he undoes another button, shivering at the graze of his knuckles against her bare stomach.

He keeps his hands out of her shirt, if not off, for now. The feel of her skin against his palms would be too much temptation, he suspects, if he doesn't want buttons everywhere.

Apples and jasmine. He's never going to be able to smell those things again without thinking of her. He breathes her in, tasting her with his kisses. His hands work at her buttons faster.

.when did this happen? when did my heart become so completely yours?

Her hands rest on his forearms, memorizing the feel of skin and muscle and bone. She leans into him, tipping her head back to expose her throat to his mouth.

.when I saw you in the bar, when you turned and looked at me. i fell.

She gasps when his lips find the marks he left the night before, a hard shiver running down her spine.

.my love, i'm still falling.

He works at them, bringing blood to the surface again just below her skin, almost but not quite able to scent it, teasing himself.

.He wants to keep moving down, but there's still a few buttons in the way. He snorts at her shirt, sticking his nose in as far as it'll go.

The pain is exquisite, a sweet sharp reminder that she is flesh and blood and that he is real, not a dream, not a figment of her imagination. She swallows a gasp, and then laughs as he snorts.

Her hands cradle his head and she nuzzles at his ear, daring to lick and nibble at his ear lobe.

He gives a little 'hey!' whine at that, ducking his head away while trying to keep his nose in her shirt.

It smells good in there. Last button now.

"Sorrysorry." More soft laughter, leaning into him, hands hungry on his skin. Her voice is the barest whisper in his hair. "Can't help it. Want you."

"Working on it," he says as the last button slips through. The next moment he's busy nuzzling what he couldn't get at before. Though there's still a bra in the way. Stupid bra.

Guess what his fingers are working on now.

She laughs again, her hands reluctantly pulling away from him as she reaches behind to undo the clasp. "Hold on, let me." The position arches her back. (Unintentionally? Perhaps not).

Happy canine sound this time as his hands slide down her obliques. And, since his hands are busy, he starts tugging at the bra with his teeth to get it loose.

She strips the shirt off and lets it fall, her fingertips rising to slip the straps off her shoulders, purring as she slowly draws away. Teasing him a little, enjoying the sounds he's making, this new found playfulness and intimacy. The ability to breathe and stretch without fear of making a wrong move.

He lets her, hands holding on for a moment before she slips free. His head is low, watching her from under his brows, hunting. The bra is dropped and forgotten as he stalks after her.

She doesn't look away for a moment, her hands moving languidly to the buttons of her jeans. She licks her lips, and works the button through. The zip clicks downward one tooth at a time as she eases them over her hips.

Tease.

Richard closes the distance between them, kissing River fiercely. He follows her curves down with his mouth, moving her jeans down at the same time with his hands.

There's just her panties left by the time he reaches her waist and he starts lipping at their elastic almost immediately.

Oh my, she thinks, returning the kiss with equal passion. Her hands stroke his head as he descends. Her heart is pounding again, her breath shallow and quick.

She steps out of her jeans without moving away from his mouth. She considers warning him against shredding another pair of her knickers.

No, she thinks, smiling broadly. Her eyes close, her head tips back, her touch replacing her sight. It's a heady thing to be wanted in such a demonstrable fashion.

She gasps at the feel of his mouth on the sensitive skin of her belly.

He scrapes her flesh with his teeth as he catches the elastic between them and starts tugging down.

Wait. He's being derailed by the smell of her, apples and jasmine and musk. He pushes against her, breathing deep, hands stroking her legs.

She bites her lower lip, hard, moaning softly in the back of her throat.

She leans into him, stepping to one side a bit to keep her balance, trying to anticipate where he wants her. Letting him lead the dance.

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