Fields of Gold
A Blackwater Drabble
"Will you stay with me, will you be my love, among the fields of barley?
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky as we lie in the fields of gold."
"Please," you say.
You never say please. Except for when we're like this, wrapped up in each other. You're hard and coarse and rude, wearing your soft, luscious bronze skin like adamantine armour. Except for now, when all your body sings to my touch and I can taste the sweetness of you on my tongue. You're all soft curves and hard planes and the most amazing sounds that form somewhere in your throat when I touch you now.
I'm half certain this is a dream. It's the only way I'll ever get to weigh the roundness of your breasts or feel the hard, hot passion of your lips. I've loved you for so long that it might be forever, and when I tried to fall for other girls it was still you I was tangled up in, and I never truly let go. Replacements, because I couldn't have you.
But it has to be, because you've phased and are looking at me with those eyes so deep a brown they swallow the dark island of your pupil in all but the brightest light, and I could drown in them, despite the cliché. You're shivering a little now that you've phased, but not from the cool night air, and I know you're scared, but you're nervously running your tongue along your bottom lip and it's all but enough to unravel me then and there-
You're leaning forward though, so slowly it could be my imagination, but then your lips were on mine, warring for dominance though you'd already won.
You don't need to be so tough. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. No one will never hurt you again. That is my promise as your Alpha, and not one I'll forget as soon as your hands are no longer dancing trails down my arms and burying themselves in my hair, pulling me to you by those short ones at the nape of my neck (not that I'm complaining), or mine aren't holding you tightly against me, the strange, delightful, perfect feel of your breasts and stomach and thighs pressed against mine gone.
You were the first girl I dreamed of in dreams like this. Only this isn't a dream, because, in my dreams, you never tasted like fresh pine needles and salt and raspberries.
I'm too nervous to know what's going on, letting you and instincts lead me. You seem to know what you want, and who am I to fight it?
"I never made promises lightly and there have been some that I've broken,
but I swear, in the days still left,we'll walk in the fields of gold."
Sting and the Police "Fields of Gold"
a/n: 'cause my idea for "Lamed" isn't fully flushed yet and I had like 8 million onesie ideas stuck in my head... and i just had to get one of them out so i could feel like something less than a total failure today 'cause the one I wanted to get out decided it was idiotic and all that. And 'cause I need something to come back at Luci-Marlena with for our official War of the Onesies.
a/n2: I actually finished this last night, and got it all ready on in preperation for Luci posting this morning... but she didn't, and I've nothing to add to this, and, while I recongize this is by far not my best work, I just want it out there.