A/N: I realized recently that I have a bunch of O/J fics on my tumblr that aren't on FFN, and I figured I should upload some. This one is set sometime after 1x16. Enjoy!
He is distracted when she sinks down on him, she can tell. They've been together long enough now that she knows when his mind is here, with his body, with hers, and when it is elsewhere. Tonight it is elsewhere, and she does not have the strength to power through and run risk drawing him back—or not. She stops nearly as soon as she's started, falling back against his thighs but supporting most of her weight through her feet and calves. She wants his attention, but she does not want to crush him in the process.
She reaches a hand out to touch his cheek, his chest, curls her fingers around the necklace he wears, and pulls on it until he looks at her.
"What is it?" she whispers, and there is a hint of fear in her voice, of sorrow, as if she suspects he may be thinking of someone else.
Meeting her eyes finally without distraction, he catches sight of her pale face and dark hair as she leans back, half-illuminated for a moment, by the moonlight sneaking in through her bedroom's blinds. He stares at her for a second without words. How can she think he could be with her and think of someone else? How can she even imagine that he would want anything but this? He lifts his hands, cupping her cheeks, the back of her neck, to draw her down to him. She sinks low, hunching over him, and accepts the slow kiss he offers her for the apology that it is.
"I used to dream of this, is all," he whispers finally, their mouths still close enough to touch, but their lips apart. She can taste his breath, can taste the promise there, the sorrow. "After you went, I… I dreamed of this almost every night. For months." He looks up, his eyes finding hers in the darkness, both of them shrouded now in shadow as they bend close to one another. The moonlight is somewhere else in the room now, falling over her feet or his legs, and no longer brightening her face. He does not mind. He does not wish for it. He can see her as clearly in the dark as he can in the light. Even after all this time, she hasn't changed much. He doesn't know how this is possible, how she is real, but he is grateful nonetheless.
"What did you dream of?"
He closes his eyes at her question. She leans back and starts to move again, slowly now, as if to coax the words from him, the truth from him. She's gotten better at that, since they've started meeting like this. She's learned how to drag the truth out of him, learned how to make him willing to divulge any and every secret she asks for. "Tell me what you dreamed of, Oscar."
"This," he whispers, bending forward until his head is buried between her breasts, his hands holding onto her hips, as she rides him. "I dreamed of this, of you. Of us…" He presses his mouth to her sternum, kissing a trail up her chest to her neck, and taking her mouth in his when she ducks down to meet him. His hands rise from her hips to her back, smoothing over the tattoos, the crimes, the lost time, and she steadies herself by gripping onto his shoulders. Her nails dig in too far, and he thrusts up into her out of instinct, relishing in the way her mouth tears from his and lets out a sharp cry of surprise, of deeper want, that splits through the quieter sounds of their labored breathing and the creak of the bed.
He sets his mouth on her neck, his lips gravitating towards the bird, her bird, his bird, theirs. She moans when he sucks on the skin beneath one of the wings, arching her body forward and throwing her head back to invite him closer, to give him more room.
"I dreamed of everything," he whispers against her neck between kisses. Her skin is as hot as his, boiling atop bones and muscle, and he buries his head into it, wanting to feel her heat mesh with his in every place possible. "I dreamed of you above me like this, you below me—"
"You inside me," she breathes, her rhythm back, her body taking in his in earnest now as she surges up and down, powerless to stop, too powerful to stop.
He blinks at her words, pulling away sharply from her firm embrace. A smile flashes across her face when she sees the question in his eyes, and she lifts a hand, wiping the perspiration from her brow, before clutching at the side of his neck.
"You thought you were the only one who dreamed of this?"
Her eyes are bright, teasing in the darkness, and he can do nothing but stare as she continues moving, continues surprising him at every turn. She clutches at one of his shoulders to adjust herself, and then pushes him back gently, until he falls down onto the mattress. Too stunned to think, let alone move, he says nothing and lies back: he is a slave to her always, be it in dreams or reality. He lives for her and her wants alone, and when they just so happen to line up with his…
His hands gravitate towards her hips again, as he lies still and watches her ride him, watches her small breasts bounce with the movement, watches her pelvis grind and rise and lower and join with his. She smiles down at him, her eyes half closed, her mouth half open, her hands bracing themselves against the firm muscles of his chest.
"I dreamed of you too," she whispers, bending low to trail kisses up his abdomen, his chest, his neck. Her smile widens against his mouth, where she kisses him long and slow, brushing her tongue gently against his. "Didn't you know?"
He shakes his head beneath her, mute. How could he have known? He can feel her body, tight around him but no longer moving, as she rests a moment atop him, catching her breath. When she shifts, to press kisses to his cheeks, his mouth, his neck, he can feel her breasts brushing against him. The hard points of her nipples scrape against his suddenly too-sensitive flesh. He finds himself wishing they did not have skin to separate them, wishing that they were fleshless beings, who could be molded forever into one body.
"It was the first memory of you I ever had." She runs her hands through his hair, and cups his cheeks to kiss him again before she starts moving, rising and falling, slow but determined, building them up again. "It was so fuzzy, but parts of it were very clear. I remembered laying with you…" She half-rises, dragging her hands down his chest. It is rising and falling fast beneath her fingertips, and she smiles at the beat of his heart, smiles that still, after all this time, they can make each other feel like this. "I remembered us making love, I remembered your mouth on my neck, your hands holding mine…" She ducks down suddenly, to his right side, and presses a kiss to the image inked on his forearm. "I remembered touching a tall tree with deep roots; I remembered tracing it with my fingers…"
"That's how you recognized me," he whispers, finally having found his voice. She looks up, catching his eye as she rises back into a sitting position. "When you saw the tattoo that night…"
She smiles a little. "I recognized your face, too. But that came later."
He pushes himself up on his elbows, wanting to be closer to her, wanting to know more. They haven't talk about this before. "How much later?" he presses.
"Not much later," she whispers back. She wraps her arms around the back of his neck and pulls him fully up, groaning softly as the angle changes when he shifts beneath her. "You were always there with me, even when I couldn't see your face."
"Like a ghost," he chokes out, his arms wrapping around her, too, his body thrusting up into hers—no longer slow and gentle, but fierce and fast; the end is coming soon, and they will crash into it together, as before. As always. "I was like a ghost to you, wasn't I?"
"A mirage," she gasps back, her nails digging into him as if holding on for her life, for their life. "You were a mirage; you were too good to be true. After that dream, when I woke… I could feel you still," she whispers, burying her face in his neck, her nails clawing at his back, desperate to cut through the skin and get to the heart inside. "Oh, God, I could feel you inside me, Oscar, I—I could feel your absence from me. I could feel you being gone from me, gone from where you belonged." She pulls back, her eyes searching for his frantically, and finding them as their bodies push and pull and fight to meet the end together. "I wanted you. Even then, I wanted you. I will always want you."
He shakes his head, the words on the tip of his tongue—You can't promise me that—but she kisses him before he can speak, and then he's wrapping his arms around her, gathering her to him only to turn them around, to lay her down beneath him, to push into her one last time, again and again and again, to feel her entire body rise to his, beg for his, as she comes apart with a cracked cry of his name—
"I love you," he gasps out when he follows her, burrowing his head into her chest, as his body and his heart explode between them. He can't help it sometimes, when they're together. The words just escape. He hears her cry out his name, exactly like she used to, and he can't not say it. He can't not tell her what this means to him, how important this is to him. How grateful he is, that she is here with him once more. "I love you," he whispers again, when he has some breath back, so she knows it isn't just about the sex, it isn't only about pleasure. What he feels for her is not merely contingent on the dark of the nights that they share together. It is more than that.
She holds him tight, whispering that she knows, she knows. Not for the first time, she almost says the words back.
A/N: Thank you so, so much for reading! Reviews would be much appreciated if you have thoughts! :)