A/N: I realize someone is going to call me out on this not being very long. It was done as a writing exercise, to see what I could come up with in thirty minutes.

I have never seen the musical and am operating only on what I have gleaned from the lyrics. This was written while listening to Whispering but was inspired by more than just those lyrics.


They danced around one another, seamlessly flawless, whispering their burning confessions, letting the wind carry them where it pleased.

Their attraction culminated one desperate summer abreast stolen touches and well-intentioned caresses produced by brave fingers that always failed to ask permission. His hand would find hers; tentative, shaking, hopeful and she would turn to his embrace, uncertain eyes with determined longing piercing his soul, her grip tightening through her unspoken doubt.

His lips would hover over her body; daring, pensive and ashamed, never staying, always moving, running from the misplaced guilt that felt so right. Her mouth would be insistent, fearful kisses peppered along his chilled skin, continuing on, wandering down until his hands would tangle in her hair and memory would forget its troubled existence.

Her smile would be bashful, naïve and wise all at once, drawing him in for another kiss, letting him drown freely, their longing swirling around them until finally it left them breathless abandoning nothing but shame burning slowly in the back of their minds as their bodies found one another, never enough to keep them apart.

Every night she would let him touch her, his hands learning her body; memorizing. Every morning he would leave before she woke, envious of the way the sun lingered on her skin, always asking permission before he kissed her good-bye.

With time their touches became practiced, ripped easily from their youthful desire, always giving, taking, needing, greedily meandering to sacred places, shoving aside the sin.

After a while they could no longer hold back, their clothes would mingle the way their fingers traced daring new patterns, their bodies meeting in the pale moonlight.

A tenderness developed one dark night, both of them knowing without knowing that they were no longer fumbling with passion, tackling the desire that swam tauntingly just out of their reach, floated in their conscious.

They bent the hours to their will.

They would talk after, eyes burning, open curiosity to see the world through the other's fingertips, always digging, pressing for words to assuage the guilt they knew deep down belonged to another.

Endless blissful days gave way to structured schedules and stolen touches became stolen moments, singular snapshots forever prolonging their innocence as time slowly revealed to them the gravity of what they had done.


A/N: Thoughts, if you wish to give them.