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alexdraven Feb. 13th, 2004 12:09 am)
alexdraven Feb. 13th, 2004 12:09 am)The very last of the requested snippets. My apologies for the time this has taken - the scenario got written into the main body of the story at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kettle [here and here] but I was feeling as though that wasn't quite fair to the two lovely ladies who made the requests. I'm not used to writing in Ally's voice, so apologies for brevety, but he showed up, and Colin is impossible to pin down for smut type things. He's a shy muse really. [side note : posting via client and not checking lj proper because it's late and I should be in bed.]
***** ***** *****
There is something right and gentle about having him here at my side. It is not familiarity, as the presence of my brother would keep him away from here if his uncertainty with the horses did not. In fact it is almost unreal to have him dogging my footsteps with quiet touches and helping hands. We don't talk much, but it is a comfortable silence. He gives me a wry smile each time he sees me notice that he hangs back slightly every time I tell the ponies over or let a shod hoof drop back to the ground, picked and sound. It is good to have his soft chuckle mixed in with the chomp of feed and the rest of the sounds of evening stables. Good to have him here, open and easy and almost relaxed, with no one to see us save the horses and the stable cats. Wonderful to luxuriate in touch and kisses, quick and chaste as we cross, passing buckets and brooms and love and warmth. He volunteered for water duty and the hems of his jeans are dark with cold water, the front of his thighs and the shoulder of his jacket shaded with falling drizzle, and his hair is dark and curled in rat tails. It's well worth the shiver of damp air to let him find the skin at my lower back, the ice of his damp hands. Worth it for the jolt of connection and laughter that comes with the cold. Worth it for the familiarity and the newness. Worth it because he is him.
***** ***** *****
I will not think about him leaving, either in a few short hours, or eventually forever. I will not think about our futures. I will not think about anything outside this precious moment, and he makes it easy for me to keep to that, kneeling tall over me, all pale skin and budding muscle, busy fingers and burning eyes. He is beautiful naked, no clothes to mar the lines of his body and nothing for him to hide from. The trust he shows with every moment, the wonder he voices in small breathy sounds when he pulls a shiver or a moan from me, the exquisite touch of his lips, his tongue, his teeth to hungry skin. I can be patient. I can let him give to me and lock away thoughts of turning him and tasting him, but only for the spark in his eye when he realises that he can give and take. Mark and burn me with his kisses until I scream out my pleasure and make it his. That look can make me forget, and forgetting makes it easy.
kettle [here and here] but I was feeling as though that wasn't quite fair to the two lovely ladies who made the requests. I'm not used to writing in Ally's voice, so apologies for brevety, but he showed up, and Colin is impossible to pin down for smut type things. He's a shy muse really. [side note : posting via client and not checking lj proper because it's late and I should be in bed.]***** ***** *****
There is something right and gentle about having him here at my side. It is not familiarity, as the presence of my brother would keep him away from here if his uncertainty with the horses did not. In fact it is almost unreal to have him dogging my footsteps with quiet touches and helping hands. We don't talk much, but it is a comfortable silence. He gives me a wry smile each time he sees me notice that he hangs back slightly every time I tell the ponies over or let a shod hoof drop back to the ground, picked and sound. It is good to have his soft chuckle mixed in with the chomp of feed and the rest of the sounds of evening stables. Good to have him here, open and easy and almost relaxed, with no one to see us save the horses and the stable cats. Wonderful to luxuriate in touch and kisses, quick and chaste as we cross, passing buckets and brooms and love and warmth. He volunteered for water duty and the hems of his jeans are dark with cold water, the front of his thighs and the shoulder of his jacket shaded with falling drizzle, and his hair is dark and curled in rat tails. It's well worth the shiver of damp air to let him find the skin at my lower back, the ice of his damp hands. Worth it for the jolt of connection and laughter that comes with the cold. Worth it for the familiarity and the newness. Worth it because he is him.
***** ***** *****
I will not think about him leaving, either in a few short hours, or eventually forever. I will not think about our futures. I will not think about anything outside this precious moment, and he makes it easy for me to keep to that, kneeling tall over me, all pale skin and budding muscle, busy fingers and burning eyes. He is beautiful naked, no clothes to mar the lines of his body and nothing for him to hide from. The trust he shows with every moment, the wonder he voices in small breathy sounds when he pulls a shiver or a moan from me, the exquisite touch of his lips, his tongue, his teeth to hungry skin. I can be patient. I can let him give to me and lock away thoughts of turning him and tasting him, but only for the spark in his eye when he realises that he can give and take. Mark and burn me with his kisses until I scream out my pleasure and make it his. That look can make me forget, and forgetting makes it easy.
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