Title: Sip of Water, Sip of Skin
Author: Alanna diAblo
Rating: This part? erm, PG-13.
Summery: A little strand of something bigger. Carby, but not the typical fluff you'd see. Never the less, it is pretty sappy for my style. It's short but VERY sweet, so check it out.
Author's Note: See the end please.
I can't stand it any longer
I need the fuel to make my fire bight
So don't fight it any longer
Come to me again in the cold cold night
In the cold cold night
And I know that you feel it too
When my skin turns into glue
You will know that it's warm inside
And you'll come run to me
In the cold cold night
-white stripes-
They way they move together, it's almost like a dance, slow and careful, each caress counting for so much more than the sake of moving. The careful brushes of his fingers against her face, and the curve of her mouth as she smiles against his bare shoulder. The bars of the bed cast prison shadows onto their moonlit bodies. His hands trace down her arms creating chills in their wake, and the she traces patterns the tips of her fingernails skating across his back. The combined gray glow of the sheets, soft lights from the street lamps and moon outside. The gentle swish of cars sliding by outside penetrate the background, but they can only hear the rustling of sheets the smacking of lips. They're only paying attention the gasps that escape from their mouths.
The window is shut so there is a small crack at the bottom, the wind is blowing the sheer curtain into the room. Snowflakes scatter from the heavy purple and blue bruised skies and drop to the ground, covering it in a thin white dust. Outside it's cold. Inside the apartment its body heat, pulse. The sensation of her smooth legs grazing his sides and the way his hair feels in her hands. Lips and tongues exploring the warmth of the others mouths, the groggy half-asleep love making that can only be perfected by long periods of separation. Neither of them wants it to end and so it remains slow, peaceful, so they can take in and recall every second of it. Slow, absorbing every sigh, so one lonely night they can look back and remember at least what was. This.
The sips of water like sips of skin and the nibbles of a starving man who is suddenly at a banquet. Testing the waters, making sure its real, making sure its safe. Afraid it's a dream and afraid of waking up. Then there's the inevitable bittersweet ending, the rise and fall and calm after the storm.
Laying there and holding each other, not wanting to let the other go. She's curled up to his chest, he has his arm out behind to press her closer to his chest. He lets his cheek rest on the top of her head and whispers things to her that she's longed to hear and he's longed to say. She mutters responses into his chest, where she can hear the echo of her voice and the drum roll of his heart beating, a roll of thunder. It sounds deep in the shadows of his soul.
Their sleep is a cloud of pleasure. When they awake the next morning they speak by gazes and use their kisses in between as punctuation. The scent of an extinguished birthday candle lingers in the air. The window is then shut to keep out the cold. The covers are pulled over their heads, and they outline anatomy with the tips of their noses and lips. It's in the moonlight they realize what they share won't go away, and it's in the daylight neither of them wants it to.
XxXxX
Author's Note: I'm not sure whether or not I'll end up making this into a series of vingettes. I had this and two others woven together in this one, semi-long fanfic, but unfourtunatly it was deleated. This is all I had left, and I figure the Carbies could use some sap, so here you go.
Please comment and let me know what you think. Feedback (good or bad,) fuels the fire that's my love of writing. Is it me, or has ER really sucked lately? Um, Yeah, thought so. Questions? Comments? FEEDBACK? I love it. Hook me up here or Rockarbabyaol.com, or both if your up to it.
Much love, Alanna.
Author: Alanna diAblo
Rating: This part? erm, PG-13.
Summery: A little strand of something bigger. Carby, but not the typical fluff you'd see. Never the less, it is pretty sappy for my style. It's short but VERY sweet, so check it out.
Author's Note: See the end please.
I can't stand it any longer
I need the fuel to make my fire bight
So don't fight it any longer
Come to me again in the cold cold night
In the cold cold night
And I know that you feel it too
When my skin turns into glue
You will know that it's warm inside
And you'll come run to me
In the cold cold night
-white stripes-
They way they move together, it's almost like a dance, slow and careful, each caress counting for so much more than the sake of moving. The careful brushes of his fingers against her face, and the curve of her mouth as she smiles against his bare shoulder. The bars of the bed cast prison shadows onto their moonlit bodies. His hands trace down her arms creating chills in their wake, and the she traces patterns the tips of her fingernails skating across his back. The combined gray glow of the sheets, soft lights from the street lamps and moon outside. The gentle swish of cars sliding by outside penetrate the background, but they can only hear the rustling of sheets the smacking of lips. They're only paying attention the gasps that escape from their mouths.
The window is shut so there is a small crack at the bottom, the wind is blowing the sheer curtain into the room. Snowflakes scatter from the heavy purple and blue bruised skies and drop to the ground, covering it in a thin white dust. Outside it's cold. Inside the apartment its body heat, pulse. The sensation of her smooth legs grazing his sides and the way his hair feels in her hands. Lips and tongues exploring the warmth of the others mouths, the groggy half-asleep love making that can only be perfected by long periods of separation. Neither of them wants it to end and so it remains slow, peaceful, so they can take in and recall every second of it. Slow, absorbing every sigh, so one lonely night they can look back and remember at least what was. This.
The sips of water like sips of skin and the nibbles of a starving man who is suddenly at a banquet. Testing the waters, making sure its real, making sure its safe. Afraid it's a dream and afraid of waking up. Then there's the inevitable bittersweet ending, the rise and fall and calm after the storm.
Laying there and holding each other, not wanting to let the other go. She's curled up to his chest, he has his arm out behind to press her closer to his chest. He lets his cheek rest on the top of her head and whispers things to her that she's longed to hear and he's longed to say. She mutters responses into his chest, where she can hear the echo of her voice and the drum roll of his heart beating, a roll of thunder. It sounds deep in the shadows of his soul.
Their sleep is a cloud of pleasure. When they awake the next morning they speak by gazes and use their kisses in between as punctuation. The scent of an extinguished birthday candle lingers in the air. The window is then shut to keep out the cold. The covers are pulled over their heads, and they outline anatomy with the tips of their noses and lips. It's in the moonlight they realize what they share won't go away, and it's in the daylight neither of them wants it to.
XxXxX
Author's Note: I'm not sure whether or not I'll end up making this into a series of vingettes. I had this and two others woven together in this one, semi-long fanfic, but unfourtunatly it was deleated. This is all I had left, and I figure the Carbies could use some sap, so here you go.
Please comment and let me know what you think. Feedback (good or bad,) fuels the fire that's my love of writing. Is it me, or has ER really sucked lately? Um, Yeah, thought so. Questions? Comments? FEEDBACK? I love it. Hook me up here or Rockarbabyaol.com, or both if your up to it.
Much love, Alanna.