Placebo
by: Lovelyrubberboots
Disclaimer: if you recognize it I don't own it...
Thanks in advance for reveiws!
It was the seventh time in eight days she'd found herself in his bed, both of them promising each other that they could sleep together, platonically. A girl and a boy could share a bed with someone of the opposite sex without it meaning anything, without them doing anything – they'd done it before with other people. But why not each other? Why was it that, each time they slept in the same bed they'd ended up having sex.
Laying there, Lucy wondered why she was putting herself through this – not that she minded per se, but she knew that they meant both nothing and everything to each other.
Lorcan's arm was draped lightly around her body, yet they were pressed together – a perfect match for each other, physically and to a certain extent mentally. His breathe grazed her neck and she felt her heart pound. Silently, she closed her eyes and willed herself to ignore her desire to turn around and kiss him. But his arm tightened slightly and her urge became stronger. She could practically tell he was awake.
It almost made her want to cry. Silently she turned over, burying her face in his chest. He ran his hand through her hair, and she bit her lip, silently willing him to, but begging him not to run his hand through her hair. He did, plating a light kiss on her forehead and it was, at that point that she was gone.
It wasn't Lorcan's hand, it was Oliver Zabini's. It was him, caressing the locks of her hair, rubbing her back slowly. It was his lips on hers, not Lorcan's – and then, then they pulled away and she licked her lips lightly, squeezing her eyes shut. The moment their lips had parted, she was thrown back into reality. She wasn't kissing him, he wasn't kissing her. He was kissing her cousin Dominique. She knew it, she just knew it. And she didn't care, because that's what she was doing for him.
She wondered if he knew too. Lucy was willing to bet he did. Silently she lifted her head and looked at the clock on the wall. One in the morning, almost exactly. She closed her eyes again as she brought her hand to his chest, imagining it was running over Oliver's dark, smooth skin. Imagining for just one moment that Oliver wasn't her best friend, completely off limits for all practically purposes, and also wishing – for one fleeting, fleeting moment as Lorcan removed her shirt and as she reached for his pajama pants – that Dominique wasn't engaged. Because then, if only for a moment they could both live in a reality that suited them well.
For now, she'd live her fantasy. In the morning she'd apparate back to her apartment, change and go to work. She'd tell herself that she was only there because it was nice to be held by someone sometimes. She'd tell herself it was a physical thing only. She'd go about life as normal until, undoubtedly she'd run into him leaving at the same time as her. And – as much as she hated to admit it – she'd end up in his bed again, both of them wishing the other was someone else.
read and reveiw = love.
