Note: Just an idea that came to mind after watching some episodes of season 10. I'm still not sure where to take this, though. First time doing an R piece! It's not about what happens in the show, but about what could happen given our imagination...characters are not mine, as we all know... =p thank you for the reviews, it means a lot to me =) xx
At the back of his mind, he knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew that he should not be there, it was not his house, his bed, his woman. It should not be his hands on her hips, his lips on hers, trailing kisses down her neck. It should not be his name that she was whispering, urging him to put his hands there and hold her just so. He should not be here, and they should not be doing this.
He knew that she knew it too, but she showed no sign of stopping, urging him on with frantic kisses, low moans and breathing his name over and over. As though she wanted to assure him that she knew what she was doing, and who it was she was with. Her way of assaying both their guilt.
Neither was sure how they got to this stage. It started off with a few simple questions- "What are you doing here?", "Are you two really married?". He had asked in jest, and just wanted to get to know his former partner and friend again. She had been gone an awful long time, and in those months he had learnt to live without her, she was pushed to the periphery of his life, hearing only snippets of information once in a while as to how she was doing.
He never thought that his innocent question would lead to this - she had taken it more seriously than he had intended. It led her to think, and finally confront the worries that she had relegated to the back of her mind. She remembered a conversation from long ago - her husband had accused her of never going through a day without rationalisation. And that was exactly what she did when her husband had refused to give up his current position in Paris to join her back in Las Vegas - the only place both of them had ever called home. She came up with reasons, backed up by 'evidence' - he had a successful career there as a lecturer, he had not been this happy in a long time. And whatever made him happy, made her happy. Apparently, that was part of what being married was about...
So why was she here, in Vegas, the place she was dying to escape a year or so before? She could blame it on the Crime Lab being shorthanded. She could blame it on her waiting for their research grant to be approved. She could blame it on Parisian food not agreeing with her, on being stuck in a country whose language she did not yet speak and whose people she could not yet understand. Or that she was bored with not doing anything but read in cafes and parks. Whatever it was, her mind refused to entertain that growing unease in her heart, and the ache that loneliness brought about, and she continued to smile and happily talk about her marriage. She had waited so long for this, had wanted him for most of the last decade. The bittersweet journey ending in a blissful union as man and wife.
But what comes after the happily ever after was not something she had expected. How exactly does the relationship move on after a decade of chasing each other? What do you do after you've reached the finishing line?
And now here she was, in their old home, where everywhere she looked was a memory of their life together, in the arms of another man. Oh, the guilt was definitely there. But so was the passion, and how she missed that intensity, that indescribable emotion, the feeling of being alive and young and free! That was it, she thought. She was only in her mid-thirties, married for a few months, yet she felt as though her life had reached a standstill. That energy and spark, that wild spirit that she was had been tamed, and the happiness and love that she had longed for had trapped her in its snare.
They did not start the way most affairs started. It did not begin with a 'let's hang out as friends' date, nor did it involve any inhibition-lowering alcohol. It did not involve any tragic incident that required the one to seek comfort in the other, nor an overlooked admirer finally convincing the object of his affection of his merits. If they were both to be truthful, they could not come up with a good justification for this, for them. Certainly they could not -would not say that it was because of love.
They would usually have both gone their separate ways, wishing each other goodnight as they walked to their cars and drove to their own homes, waking up the next morning repeating their usual routines. But for a fraction of a second, when usually he would push his emotions down, his strange infatuation for her, his growing loneliness and sexual frustrations that came with his job, and when she would push aside her own loneliness and desires, and that strange longing she had whenever she was with him. A look that lasted a moment too long, a hug and a kiss on the cheek that lingered more than it should had led them both here - in her old townhouse, on her old bed, with an old friend.
He looked no different from when she last saw him, but he had changed. They had both grown up together, and mellowed down together. She was calmer, no longer angry and short-tempered, just as how he was no longer as childish and innocent. His hair was shorter, more natural than she had remembered it ever to be. She on the other hand, looked softer, gentler and more settled than when he first saw her. Certainly she smiled more, even more so with him.
There was nothing soft, gentle or settled about the way they were now, however. They did not have the time to come up with expectations, all they knew was their own need and desires, the here and the now, and taking them from the other. Hands on hips, lips on lips, tongues tasting skin and the caress of fingertips -He pushed her against the wall, she raked her fingers down his back. Shirts unbuttoned and hurriedly thrown on the floor. His warm breath and the flick of his tongue down her neck. Her low moans and hands in his hair, on his chest down his torso. Belts unbuckled, zippers and trousers pulled down in a hurry -She pushed him onto the bed, he flipped her on her back and pinned her down. His lips on black lace. Her hands on-
A low groan escaped his lips.
Black lace and blue cotton. Skin on skin. Her name on his lips, and his name on hers. Brown eyes met brown.
Two friends becoming lovers.
