Author's note: Okay, this isn't like my usual style of writing. Usually I like doing a piece of snarky, but flirtatious, prose between out favourite coupling. I guess I've been listening to "Falling for Sylvia" by School of Emotional Engineering on repeat too much, hehe. Sometimes I like to be a little serious, and hopefully that's not detrimental to the production of my fanfics! Might seem over the top, but oh well. I will get back to normal on any future projects if this turns out to be a disaster. Enjoy!
He wasn't meant to be remotely close to thinking about her in the way he was.
What it would be like to mean more. How it would feel to enter the forbidden dungeons of that thing called love. His love. Her love...
He wasn't meant to be thinking about sliding through smooth, cappucinno thighs and hitting that sweet, secret spot deep inside. Nor was he supposed to be imagining what it would feel like to experience that earth-shattering clench around that part of himself as he heard her cry out his name in ecstasy.
Despite the oddities of their supposed friendship, the proximity of their arrangement and the innocuous, though aggressively progressive, growth of mutual understanding was fuelling this latest insanity. He was crazy if he thought he could even begin to hope for what he so dearly desired.
There was him, who was thousands of miles away, and yet haunted her thoughts hourly. Her beloved toy soldier, risking everything, and heroic in all ways that he could never be. He was so far away and yet so close to her heart, she couldn't even see that there was someone so close all she had to do was reach out and he wouldn't hesitate to grasp the opportunity. Permanently.
Her realisation was slow, but it was there. In every stolen glance, every appreciative silence when her more visual attractions were put on display and the harmless, yet meaningful, flirtations during shifts. The signs were there, not quite a stable foundation, but leading to a place she knows she cannot go.
She is torn. Her loyalty and love belong to one, and yet they surely could belong to another. But it was much too late for all that now. Wasn't it?
And here they sat. Opposite sides of the couch, barely inches way from touching. Green eyes asking an unspoken question. Brown eyes pleading for mercy. Eventually the will to deny falters. The temptation for sweet betrayal grows stronger.
In the darkness, cappucinno thighs wrap around a pale waist. Unconcious sighs declare what must be kept hidden.
And hope for the impossible is ignited.