A/N: Okay, this is where the story starts to come out. I'm nervous about it because I'm sure it's been done before, and if it has I don't want to know about it until I finish my version. But still. I like the idea of this, and I hope I can pull it off, make it as interesting as it is my head. We'll see.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
----------
His body was heavy and warm, full of sleep as he stirred against her form. The comforter kept them warm now, as it had immediately afterward, and it smelled like her.
Her.
His eyes opened against her shoulder, his lashes sweeping upward on her skin. His face was pressed there, and the tip of his nose could only praise how smooth her skin was. As he settled fully into consciousness, he realized it was everywhere. She was smooth all over him, her skin touching his in a million places now as he held her. He licked his lips, surprising himself as he tasted her, too. She was that close, and completely real. He hugged her closer, smiling into her shoulder, gently enough to let her sleep.
He rested his forehead against her again, blinking slowly. Remembering everything about the night before. It was too early for sunlight now, but not dark enough to be nighttime. He considered waking her up with kisses down her spine; he wanted to make love to her in the early morning confusion. Half-awake, remembering a rendezvous halfway through the workday, early morning confusion.
But the contented sighs she gave to him when she was sleeping, they were too much to give up just then. He listened to those instead as he reflected on the night before.
The first time was an experiment. He had kissed her into a desperation on his bed, and she plucked at the clothes he wore in frustration. But he wouldn't let go of her long enough to undress. He didn't think they would get to that point so soon, and he wanted to remember touching her innocently. He brushed the hair away from her face, traced the line of her jaw with his thumb, ran a finger down her neck and followed it with is lips.
She looked perfect every time he kissed her, every time she reacted to his touch. They would giggle softly when their kisses made noises, or when he poked her in the calf with his toenails.
"You're scratching me," she had breathed, blinking slowly, beautifully aroused.
He hovered over her, kissing her neck, then sitting back on his knees. He reached for her calf, the slight lines pale on her skin.
"Sorry," he murmured, running a finger along the scratch. He pulled her leg in the air, up to his lips, barely pressing them into her, all the way down to her thighs.
That was how her panties disappeared, and his fingers discovered her.
As she writhed, she picked at his shirt again, his name escaping her lips in mere impatience. He straightened, pulling off his shirt without hesitation this time, and falling back over her. His lips were purposeful against hers this time, his tongue meeting hers, tasting everything.
His hands slid up her ribcage, taking the shirt with it, taking everything in that sat in front of him. He sighed, his head falling back slightly at the sight of her. They stayed like that, breathing heavily, a rush through his spine as he looked at her form, almost naked.
She crossed her arms over her chest and cracked her face into a grin, barely laughing, breathless with lust. "Don't look at me like that, oh my god."
"What?" he asked, coyly, reaching a hand up to pull her arms away.
"You're staring."
"Can't help it," he said simply, grinning, as he attempted to move her arms again.
"This is so weird."
He stopped, and nodded, still panting. "Is it too much? We can stop, I just --"
"No, no, it's just different."
"Oh."
They both looked at each other for a while, he thought about everything he wanted to do, and she waited for it all.
"Get your arms out of the way," he teased finally, making her laugh again. Their voices were so hushed, whispers and just breathing.
She raised her eyebrows, she was so adorably self-conscious. But now she was teasing him back, and he wanted to kiss her for it. He wanted to let her know.
"You need to move your arms," he said slowly, running his hand up and down her side, finding goosebumps, "because I need to kiss you in so many places that you're covering right now."
She had really been past embarrassment, at least a little he knew that. She reached her arms around his neck and he kissed her long and sweetly on the mouth. She pushed him away, reaching behind her to unhook her bra. He helped her drag it off her shoulders.
He kissed her everywhere, and when he had finally been inside her, he kissed her more. His lips remembered enough to last him a lifetime. He remembered thinking if this is all he got, all he ever had, he could die happy. Her face when she came with him told him he was wrong; the intensity, then the sweet and spent smiles afterward was something he would always need.
When she had fallen asleep against him, after he had kissed her into her dreaming state, he held her for a long time. He had pulled the comforter around them, stretched across them at an angle enough for their shoulders, nothing for their feet at the end of the bed.
He felt like a sap when he left her there, missing the contact instantly. Straining to remember what she smelled like as he flicked the bathroom light on, his hands tingling with her senses when he sat down in front of his laptop and a pile of work. Why he hadn't done this already, couldn't have revised this nameless, anonymous, paper-industry bullshit document for David days ago, he didn't want to think about.
His brain had no room for anything but her at the moment.
He could see her, if he craned his neck and looked in the direction of the bedroom. He had to snap himself out of it. It was sheer exhaustion and frustration, desire and love and longing, but an hour and a half later it was finished work. Probably not even his best, but he had so many other ideas now that he wanted to share with her.
And when he had fallen back into bed next to her, she had turned over instantly and wrapped herself around him. Her warm fingertips ran through his hair.
He looked at her questioningly, and she whispered something about being this close to jumping him, interrupting his hard work, when she heard him typing way out in the kitchen.
Their second time was something else entirely. He loved her; his last conscious thought before they fall asleep again was being utterly lost in everything that she was.
Now, he felt the same. It was in the wake of everything he ever wanted, as trite as it sounded. It had been a long time since he'd been truly optimistic; the time between shifting from a crush to the feelings he confessed to her had made him say prayers at night for this. And now, he had his arms wrapped around it, his palms pressed against it. His senses were only everything she was, all over again, every time he breathed.
He couldn't help it, so he kissed her neck, ear to shoulder and back again. She breathed in, deep and lazy, her head falling back to rest against him.
"Hey," he said, kissing her still.
"Mmm," she murmured, stroking the hand that held onto her.
"I want to take you somewhere," he said, his hand twisting to hold hers, lips somewhere near her ears again.
"Hmm?"
"I want to take you somewhere... expensive and romantic," he said with a slight grin, his face now pressed into her hair. "Like... Rome. Or Venice. Or... I don't know, wherever you want to go."
"Why?" she said, chuckling, reaching back to run her fingers through his hair.
"I don't know." He laughed a little, turning her toward him in his arms. "Because we have today, tomorrow and then we have to go back to work all over again."
"Yeah," she said, dropping a hand to his chest, reaching up to kiss his chin. "Good morning."
He kissed her, like he forgot what it was, and needed it all over again. She sighed, relaxing against him, arms around his neck.
"See, we could be doing this in Paris, and I could take you all over the place." He leaned his forehead into hers, kissing her nose when she closed her eyes and smiled. "Eat all that pretentious food at those street cafes --"
"The French are overrated," she said softly, shifting to kiss him softly. "I like your other choices."
"Which one?"
"Italy, we could do Italy," she said with a giggle, brushing her lips over his again, up and over to his cheek.
"I'm serious, we should do it." She laughed a little, and he pulled back to look at her. "I'm not joking. We're doing it."
"Why?"
"I don't know, so we can be together, do something romantic, have fun."
"A lot of sex, Jim," she said with a wink. He laughed, hugged her, collapsing against her shoulder again.
"God, other things, too, Pam," he said, his face burned from grinning. "Hey, you could draw. There'd probably be so many things you could see, bring your... sketchbook with you, I don't know how the whole artist thing works. If we went to Paris, we could get a hotel with a good view, you could draw the Eiffel Tower from the balcony... Wrapped up in a sheet, and I'd come behind you and seduce you, take you right there on the balcony, all of France watching..."
He laughed at the end, poking her in the side, and shifted to see her face. She had the smallest smile and serious eyes.
"What?"
She shrugged, tightening her grip on him. "You're going to be so good to me, aren't you?"
He scrunched his face up a bit, staring at her in wonder until she was smiling back at him.
"I don't know what I did to deserve you --"
He captured her lips in his, kissing her, trying his best to deserve her. He didn't want that conversation now, when all he noticed was her body against his in the dark room. They had so much time for that, for explanations, for histories, for revelations. He was ready to say it, tell her how much he loved her, but he had time for that all.
They had time to go to Paris or Venice or Rome. Or all three. They had time to forget about selling paper, book a flight and go halfway across the world. Time to watch her sketch the Eiffel Tower, wrapped in only a sheet, watch her face again on a balcony somewhere when he kissed her. Time to take in every laugh, every freckle, every wink, everything.
It had taken so long to get there, they could take it slow now. They could enjoy each other, get to know each other. He loved her body, and he barely knew it yet. But he would, with so much time...
"We're going to be great," he said when their lips parted. Her hands were in his hair again.
"I know," she said quietly, before he moved over her.
At work on Monday, dreams of foreign countries and spending Saturdays in bed were further away, admittedly. Pam still became shy and resistant over his enthusiasm in taking her somewhere. He said it could be practical, too, they didn't have to jet off immediately. It could be six months down the road.
She was more convinced everyday, melting with his romantic ideas for the two of them. The same guy who put staplers in jello, she would muse with a smile. She started to see these things happening. She wasn't used to being fawned over, honestly, and she glowed under his attention. She became more affectionate, and he noticed the change in her confidence. He would grin, like a proud boyfriend, just watching her work. Take a phone call. Spread the paints out in front of her canvas, on a sheet in his living room.
He loved her, this he always knew. But now she was his, and they were together, and they were becoming each other, making plans. Now he loved her differently, and he couldn't wait to tell her.
After both working late with dinner plans long forgotten one night, he dragged her into his apartment. Shutting the door behind them, he wrapped his arms around her, lowering his lips to hers. His hands played with the ends of her hair, the rhythm of her curls.
They had been dating a month and a half, and he'd been ready to say it since day one. It was always too good to be true.
"Pam," he said, his voice low next to her neck.
She looked up at him, her eyes tired and lips reddened from his.
"I love you," he whispered, gripping her sides.
She looked at him with an odd mix of relief, a little fear, and want. It wasn't what he expected, and instantly his body froze.
She held onto him, then pushed into a hug, wrapping her arms around him tightly.
"I love you, Jim," she whispered into his neck, "I love you so much."
Though it was exactly what he wanted to hear, he couldn't shake something in the atmosphere. He gripped her hand.
"Is everything okay?"
She nodded, a little too strongly.
Maybe his head was conditioned to defeat. He kicked himself, before he smiled at her and kissed her own smile.
"I love you," he said again.
She hugged him, her arms tighter than before, almost desperate. She grabbed his hand, squeezing it and grinning. She pulled him towards the couch, and they sat there together in front of Jon Stewart, as her head rested against his shoulder.
He couldn't see her face as he rubbing the arm that clutched his; he was almost asleep when she nestled the side of her face further into his arm.
"I think," she said in a sudden breath, the words falling out of her, "I think I'm pregnant."
He peeled himself out of his reverie, the hazy late-night sleep he almost surrendered to, to look at her. Her face turned to him, a crease in a brow that he was sure he shared.
She licked her lips, sucking the bottom one between her teeth and turned back toward the television.
----------
Okay, I hope I didn't lose half of you guys with the end, thinking, "Ohhh, it's one of those." I promise I have plans to make this original, as self-conscious as I am about it. A girl loves some feedback.
Sitemap | Terms of Service | Submission Rules | FAQs | Disclaimer | Donate | Contact Us |
© 2006-2023 More Than That | Skin created by Kali
© 2006-2023 More Than That | Skin created by Kali