The moon shows through the window, casting a soft light across his beautiful face. His long lashes lay across his smooth, pale cheeks and his mouth is slightly opened, his warm breath mingling with my own as I lie on my side watching him. I cherish these moments. Not only because I know the difficulty he has finding peaceful sleep but because it affords me the chance to study him without making him uncomfortable. I enjoy these moments when he is still. He can not see his own beauty, can not understand why I find such pleasure just watching the slight curve of his sweet mouth when he smiles, the flutter of lashes or the tinge of pink that touches his cheeks when he is embarrassed as he catches me staring.
We do not touch or show any signs at work of the way we feel. As federal agents we must conform to Strauss and her uncompromising stance on rules. I would never risk our jobs. Sometimes it's hard not to forget where I am as I watch him get caught up in a tangent about something, the way he moves his body, the way he uses his hands to make a point. Those beautiful hands tempt me to ignore everything around me and reach for them, for him.
It's funny how little things can cause so much pleasure to me now. The long, thin fingers that strum my body like a guitar player would his instrument, the silky hair he brushes back behind the ears I like to nibble, the curve of his full, sexy mouth that can do amazing things to me. I yearn to touch him all the time. Sometimes I can't focus until I do. I'll pat his shoulder as I walk by or stroke his fingers as I pass him a file. He knows why I do it. He knows the effect he has on me. The fact that he is amazed by my desire for him only makes me want him even more. He doesn't see it, his attraction, his appeal but I can't see how anyone could miss it.
I watch his face while he breathes. I want so much to stroke his cheek, brush the soft strands of hair from it and kiss that unbelievable mouth until he opens his eyes. His eyes, those amazing, beautiful eyes, I could spend the rest of my life looking into them. The whole team is susceptible to those eyes of his, big, honey colored and full of intelligence.
They melt my heart and he knows this too. He knows I will give in to most anything when he gives me that wounded look, full of innocence and when he pouts I am lost.
It amazes me how someone who has suffered so much in life can still be innocent but he is. He struggled in childhood, had to be an adult while still a child, took care of his mom, and their needs, ran a household all alone. He rarely was shown any affection, his dad was gone and his mom was lost in her own world where even the son that loved her was an enemy at times. I'm grateful to those who were kind to him and there were few. He doesn't touch many but those of us he draws to him feel blessed to be let in. The children around him bullied him, many adults took advantage or pushed him instead of helping him and yet he still believes in good. Sometimes he looks for good to the point of endangering himself. He sees himself when dealing with an un-sub that gave in to the pressures instead of rising above as he did. He is so strong and so many only see the physicality and overlook the strength of will and mind that he possesses. I am amazed by his strength, his ability to overcome cruelty and still feel empathy for others.
He hates when we want to protect him but we all do it, we can't stop ourselves. He is what keeps us believing that good and pure people still exist in the world and we have to hold on to that. He helps me believe that there is a reason for the things we do, a purpose. He is my light when the darkness comes.
I softly lay my arm across his stomach and pull him a little closer to me. I need his warmth. He snuggles into me and I can feel his breath at my neck, sweet and soft. I raise my hand and gently run my fingers across his cheek, into his hair and down his neck. I place my lips against his forehead not really kissing him but just to feel my lips on him, just to have that small taste of him. I can feel his heartbeat against my chest and I close my eyes. I wonder if he will ever know how much I love him, how much I need him with me. Somehow even if he realized just how much he means to me it still wouldn't be enough. It still wouldn't come close to what I feel.
He is my heart.
He is my breath.
He is my life.
He is my Spencer.