Disclaimer: No one you recognize is mine. I promise to put everybody back neatly when I'm finished playing.
A/N: This series was inspired by SSJL's "Scenes from a Hat: The First Time" (I use this concept with her permission and I highly recommend you go read her story if you watch Bones). SSJL borrowed the original idea from Who's Line is it Anyway and I think it's an awesome way to get me out of my writing box. Here are the rules:
Each chapter is a standalone one-shot about Will and Emma's first time.
The content of each one-shot will be chosen completely at random including POV, genre and prompt (prompts mostly from livejournal's 100_prompts community table 30-A…they seem pretty inactive so hopefully they don't mind me borrowing a table).
POVs: 1st person – Will or Emma, 2nd person – Will or Emma, 3rd person – omniscient
Genres: drama, angst, romance, humour, hurt/comfort, friendship
Prompts: aloof, cry, puppy love, funeral, superstition, lost, strawberries, evidence, weapon, beach, shame, taxi, blood, shatter, clean, tease, storm, gloves, muse, magic, secret, search, blackboard, fantasy, test.
Simple, right? Each prompt will be used once and then discarded (for those of you keeping score at home that's 25 one-shots) with the POVs and genres returned to their respective hats for the next story (and yes there are LITERAL hats that I shall be drawing from).
First person (Will), Angst, Blood -
I can't help wanting you, and it's driving me goddamn crazy. The way you smile when you think no one's looking, how you hide your face with your hair when you're embarrassed. Everything about you makes me want you and I'm beginning to hate you for it.
Part of me was satisfied with substitutes for a while. Uncomplicated women without your baggage let me pretend I could be happy without you. Then you'd do something so damned adorable it was like you were inside my head to find exactly how to draw me back and my pathetic, superficial relationship would disintegrate as I fixated on you once again. When Holly left she told me she felt sorry for me and I had to ask her why. She told me I'd never be happy without you. I think she saw in my eyes that I hoped I could still get you and claim you for my own. She told me I'd never be happy with you either.
You're an addiction for me. Now that I have you, can kiss you and hold you, you'd think it would be better, easier. It's not. I want simplicity but I also want you and I cannot have both of those things. You are my drug but you are so damn complicated.
I was surprised earlier, when you were so bold as to slide your hands under my shirt when we kissed goodnight, and I took it as an invitation. Each time I think you're ready, that you truly want me, you freeze, your body going stiff in my arms and pulling away. It gets harder for me every time you pull away and I sometimes wonder if there will come a time that this all becomes too much for me.
That beautiful crimson blush stains your cheeks and the tears glisten at the corners of your eyes as they wait to fall and you flee to the bathroom. I can hear your sobs over the sound of the shower you turned on to hide them and it disgusts me that I have to talk myself into getting out of bed to go to you. I should want to comfort you; this should not be a chore.
I'm surprised to find you left the bathroom door unlocked, you're usually so careful. The room is already filling with steam and I can only barely make out your shape behind the shower curtain.
"Emma?"
I do my best to sound warm and soothing; it saddens me that it requires any effort at all. I used to comfort you in reflex I think, the smallest sign of pain in your pretty hazel eyes had me falling over myself to make it better. To my utter disbelief you pull the curtain back, standing before me in all your naked glory. It takes everything I have not to look you up and down like some pathetic sap at a strip joint.
I wrack my brain looking for something to say, anything, because the silence is stretching on far too long. I stare into your eyes and try and see what you're thinking, what has made you so bold tonight, but there's nothing there. I can't see a thing in those expressive eyes of yours but before I can begin to worry, to wonder what has drawn the light from your eyes, you beckon to me. Just a crook of a finger, so subtle I'd have missed it if I wasn't as hyperaware of you as I am, and I am in the shower with you.
Much of what is happening seems a blur to me even in real time. Your hands are bolder than they've been before, exploring my body with none of the trepidation you so often hold. This I know is an invitation and I begin touching you back, your previous reactions keeping me tentative and guarded. I wait for you to freeze. Instead you push my hands lower, showing me what you want.
You're tiny, so tiny, and I need to pick you up if this has any hope of working here. Trapped between my body and the wall I see a glimmer of that old fear in your eyes and I hate myself as I ignore it. Pushing into you is like heaven and I don't ever want to stop. I'm lost in you and I want to stay that way but I can feel the end drawing near and my only hope is that this is not a one-time offer. You stiffen as I spill into you and I know it is too much for you to handle so I quickly pull away, setting you down.
The blood that drips down your thighs mesmerizes me as it mixes with the water in the tub creating artistic whorls of colour before disappearing down the drain.
"I'm sorry Em," I try but you just shake your head and push me out.
It takes you a lot less time to shower than I thought it would and before what we've done can really sink in, you're in bed beside me.
"I love you Emma," I say to your back, wanting you to turn and face me again. I get my wish and suddenly change my mind when I see the tears and the pain.
"Will you stay with me now?" You ask me and my heart shatters. My frustration has been leaking through and you've seen it. Now you've given me everything I thought I wanted in an effort to keep me in your bed and I wish I'd never wanted it at all.
Up next: Lost, humour, 1st person - Emma