Revolutions spoilers. One shot set during the pre-war party in Zion where Neo and Trinity get together for what turns out to be the last time (within the movie trilogy at least). Usual disclaimer: I don't own The Matrix or the characters.
Because the Night
His urgency shivers through me as he kisses me, but I slow him down. Sleep, war, machines and the damn world can wait. Tonight's ours. Undressed, I kiss his firm skin, savouring this body I know so well. Gaze into those dark eyes that grow with need, with desire. I know I'm reflecting the same back to him. Neither of us smile. I ignore his shudder of impatience. Keep my eyes on his as my fingers caress his body as if I'm a blind woman reliant on touch.
Another lingering kiss before I surrender, allow him to roll me on my back, let his lips taste my skin. Focus on his smell, a faint scent of musk, as his tongue and hands massage the stress from me. Focus, Trinity, focus on him. Feel the tension slip away. I feel I could drown in this: two bodies connecting. He moves to the rhythm of the drums. I wrap my legs around his back, alter his rhythm. Tonight's ours.
Forget them: they shower you with gifts and the pressure of their expectations. Tomorrow continues the war and brings more death. Zion will be breached and we'll be in The Matrix, doing our best. One last try. One last push. Neo, make me sweat. Make me forget, Neo.
A short, post-climax kiss. Now I'm aware of his weight on me, then rolling to my side. I spoon against him, feel him pull me closer, my back against his chest. Another kiss before those dark eyes close. I listen to his breathing become slower. I feel myself sink towards sleep.
I jerk awake when I hear my name but stay still. He's gasping for breath. I feel the mattress shift as he curls into a crouch. He doesn't think he's spoken aloud. Doesn't think I could hear the desperate urgency in his voice. I fake sleep. I can't help if he won't tell me what he's dreaming. I hear him leave. He thinks this doesn't disturb me. As if I'd not notice the mattress isn't bearing his weight anymore, that his body heat's not there anymore. He thinks I sleep through this too.
I know he dreams of my death. Nothing else could disturb him that much. I know he feels responsible. I picture it like a wall. Started as a single brick wall of two rows, low enough to step over. Now it's grown, leaving just enough room for us to reach over so we could still kiss. But it's getting thicker. Another layer is widening it. It'll push us apart until just our fingertips can touch. Just. And we're going to war like this.
If he could tell me how he sees me dying, I might be able to prevent it. I've seen too much to know there'll be no glory attached to it, no bravery. No cowardice either. Just a stupid death from a stupid mistake.
The only comfort he offers is that he doesn't see his own death. Might he have to go on without me? Could he go on without me?
I hear his footsteps, fake sleep again. The mattress shifts under his weight. His warmth envelops me. He brushes his lips against the back of my neck. Relax, forget, I mentally tell him. Tonight's ours.
