Title: Passion
Email: Atheniandream@aol.com
Content Warnings: Angst, little bit of Frankness
Pairings: Suggested S/J
Spoilers: In general, season seven knowledge helps.
Season: Seven, but could be any.
Rating: Pg-13
Summary: That's passion for you...
Author's notes: this is until I finish my current HUGE fic. Wish me luck.
Archive: Anywhere.
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING. I know this.
-------------------------------
Passion
What is it like?
Is it that time; that peaked second when you find yourself innocent and fragile in the hands of another?
Or, is it the rush of blood to the head, the final prick on your finger that leads you through the tunnel of patched darkness that leads you to giving in and take what's right fully yours and claim both him and yourself in the hands of another?
For eternity, it will govern, and reign above the sexes; like glass pawns mistaken for pieces of an old wooden chess set, always being ignored, always being typecast by sceptics as 'something of nothing much'
In reality, it's a lightly tempered asphyxiation, strangulation and freedom fighting for the last breath, that courses through my body altogether, waiting for the moment when his lips touch, pressing against the smooth slip of mine.
But they don't.
It's heaven and hell and reality rolled into one, a wanton package, and then shoved so far down my throat that I choke on it willingly, embracing the way that it stops the pain in my brain expanding as I try to hear his words, "I don't know what you're talking about," and he denies the last seven years causing the blood seep through my ears as, and in no unspeakable terms,
Am deafened by him.
It's everything in my life stripped of its dignity, it's remorse and the very essence that make it live, and then standing it bare, out in the cold to recite itself 100 times to the point of forgiveness and depression and failure.
But it was what it is, and will always be...
Passion.
Unbridled Passion.
A kind that could be furious and desirable to the very depths of my soul,
No.
Not victorious Passion, the kind that pours out of respectful lovers to gasp around onlookers, No.
It's the type of passion that kicks you in the crotch when you see that he's hurt, very hurt, and you don't know what to do, but there's not a damn thing you can do about it.
It's because you know you can't do what you want to do that keeps you awake at night, remembering the kiss that's in your head. The kiss that never even passed your moistened lips, and yet is so real that it pushes your sensible side of edge to leaving everything in your in search of another one, that's freer and less restricted by the boundaries that hold you in the same, but that STILL keep you both chained to a wall that spouts intelligence and duty to reign and govern over the stars, your conscience; his hands, the way that they twitch around you, and how you know almost completely that they want to rest on your body and not ever let go.
But they don't. And your not sure whether it's his thoughts or yours that stop him from saying what you think he'd say if you kissed him unexpectedly. So the images keep swimming and every now and then the pressure realises when you realise what a chronic, pig-headed asshole he really is. And then you believe to the core of your very being that moving on is right, your choice, not theirs, justified and true and the thing you're meant to do.
And then he catches your eyes, deep, penetrating and hiding a lifetime's thoughts, and you want to hand them to him, and say 'Take it all.' 'Take everything.'
Yea, that's passion for you....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback would really help me improve my writing, so yes please.
This is my last small fic for a while...I'm trying to write more than two-four pages worth...
Athena - http://www.fanfiction.net/~atheniandream
Email: Atheniandream@aol.com
Content Warnings: Angst, little bit of Frankness
Pairings: Suggested S/J
Spoilers: In general, season seven knowledge helps.
Season: Seven, but could be any.
Rating: Pg-13
Summary: That's passion for you...
Author's notes: this is until I finish my current HUGE fic. Wish me luck.
Archive: Anywhere.
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING. I know this.
-------------------------------
Passion
What is it like?
Is it that time; that peaked second when you find yourself innocent and fragile in the hands of another?
Or, is it the rush of blood to the head, the final prick on your finger that leads you through the tunnel of patched darkness that leads you to giving in and take what's right fully yours and claim both him and yourself in the hands of another?
For eternity, it will govern, and reign above the sexes; like glass pawns mistaken for pieces of an old wooden chess set, always being ignored, always being typecast by sceptics as 'something of nothing much'
In reality, it's a lightly tempered asphyxiation, strangulation and freedom fighting for the last breath, that courses through my body altogether, waiting for the moment when his lips touch, pressing against the smooth slip of mine.
But they don't.
It's heaven and hell and reality rolled into one, a wanton package, and then shoved so far down my throat that I choke on it willingly, embracing the way that it stops the pain in my brain expanding as I try to hear his words, "I don't know what you're talking about," and he denies the last seven years causing the blood seep through my ears as, and in no unspeakable terms,
Am deafened by him.
It's everything in my life stripped of its dignity, it's remorse and the very essence that make it live, and then standing it bare, out in the cold to recite itself 100 times to the point of forgiveness and depression and failure.
But it was what it is, and will always be...
Passion.
Unbridled Passion.
A kind that could be furious and desirable to the very depths of my soul,
No.
Not victorious Passion, the kind that pours out of respectful lovers to gasp around onlookers, No.
It's the type of passion that kicks you in the crotch when you see that he's hurt, very hurt, and you don't know what to do, but there's not a damn thing you can do about it.
It's because you know you can't do what you want to do that keeps you awake at night, remembering the kiss that's in your head. The kiss that never even passed your moistened lips, and yet is so real that it pushes your sensible side of edge to leaving everything in your in search of another one, that's freer and less restricted by the boundaries that hold you in the same, but that STILL keep you both chained to a wall that spouts intelligence and duty to reign and govern over the stars, your conscience; his hands, the way that they twitch around you, and how you know almost completely that they want to rest on your body and not ever let go.
But they don't. And your not sure whether it's his thoughts or yours that stop him from saying what you think he'd say if you kissed him unexpectedly. So the images keep swimming and every now and then the pressure realises when you realise what a chronic, pig-headed asshole he really is. And then you believe to the core of your very being that moving on is right, your choice, not theirs, justified and true and the thing you're meant to do.
And then he catches your eyes, deep, penetrating and hiding a lifetime's thoughts, and you want to hand them to him, and say 'Take it all.' 'Take everything.'
Yea, that's passion for you....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback would really help me improve my writing, so yes please.
This is my last small fic for a while...I'm trying to write more than two-four pages worth...
Athena - http://www.fanfiction.net/~atheniandream
