A/N: This one was inspired by a scene from Pretty Woman. Julie Roberts' character goes downstairs late one night at the hotel and finds Richard Gere's character playing the piano. He clears the room and perches her on top of the piano. We don't really get to see all the details of what happens next, but it's pretty clear. I always thought it was a seriously hot scene, particularly the way they would occasionally hit the piano keys. It was a great, discordant sound in an otherwise silent room. From a writing perspective, I also wanted to see if I could write a scene without any dialogue. It was kinda tough, especially since Dean really likes to talk when I write him, but I think it ended up making the scene that much more intense.
Thanks as always to my dear friend and beta, Ma liBearsBuddy. Please go check out the great stories she's posting!
Please enjoy! Reviews are much appreciated!
Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural or Sarah McLachlan's beautiful song. Only borrowing for your amusement.
Piano
Dean pushes open the door from the garage. He hears the sound of the piano from the living room and smiles. After washing the dirt and oil from his hands, he walks quietly into the next room. Leaning against the door frame, he watches her play.
She switches easily from something classical to something more jazzy to something kind of bluesy. He's entranced by her fingers as they stroke the keys, sometimes softly, sometimes with more energy. The look on her face tugs at something in him as well. Her eyes are half closed, her neck bent, something like a smile ghosting over her lips. She looks completely lost in the music she's creating, free and fully at ease.
She switches the tune again, this time to something he recognizes: Sarah McLachlan's Angel. The notes are haunting, slow, sad. He wants to stop her, but then he hears her voice, soft and low. He's never heard her sing before, at least not like this. Her voice isn't as high as the original version, so she's changed the key to accommodate her range. And it's beautiful.
"Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For the break that would make it okay
Always some reason to feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction oh beautiful release
Memories seep from my veins
Let me be empty, weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight"
He knows she doesn't see him, doesn't know he's there, but it's like she's speaking right to him. He's struggled so long with those same things. His worth to the world, his self-image tied up in everyone else's perceptions. For a long time alcohol and the occasional fling with some willing young thing was the distraction. But they were never really enough to fill the spaces in his heart, the gaping wounds on his soul.
"In the arms of the angel
Fly away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room
And the endless that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here."
But she's here now. And she's filled him, completed him, healed him, in ways he doesn't really understand. Ways he can't even explain. It sounds seriously corny and way too chick flick, but she's his angel. In her arms, he's found the comfort and peace he never dreamed possible.
The sadness in her voice is killing him. It pierces some part of his heart he thought was gone. He again thinks to stop her, but remains still as she starts the next verse.
"So tired of the straight line
And everywhere you turn, there's vultures and thieves at your back
Storm keeps on twisting
You keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack
It don't make no difference, escaping one last time
It's easier to believe in this sweet madness
Oh this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees"
A tear slides down his cheek, unbidden, as the words slice through him. Her voice catches on the last words of the verse as her fingers falter on the keys. He can see her struggling to keep back the tears. He finds he can't watch her any longer. A few quick strides across the room and he's leaning over her. He gently takes her hands from the keyboard and wraps both their arms around her, his cheek on the top of her head.
She gasps at first, startled from wherever the song had taken her, but she quickly relaxes against him. She wonders how long he's been standing there. Judging from the tears she feels dripping in her hair, long enough. She's not sure what possessed her to play that song today, but it always reminds her of him. He's been through so much. She knows he still suffers, knows about the dreams he still has. Some part of her responds instinctively to his pain, stretching out to ease it, to pull him from the darkness.
Long moments later, Dean presses a kiss to her head and turns her to face him. A glimpse at his tear streaked face has her kneeling on the piano bench. She tenderly wipes the tears away. She opens her mouth to speak, but he stops her with a quick shake of his head before he presses his lips to hers. The kiss is tender and loving, full of sadness, sweetness, longing.
The emotion flowing between them is heady and makes his knees weak. His tongue slides against hers, slow and easy. He knows he should find the words to tell her what he's feeling, but somehow trying to show her, making her feel what he feels with his touch, makes more sense. Words seem ridiculously inadequate at this point; nothing he could come up with would even begin to touch what's in his heart right now.
His hands roam to her bottom, pulling her closer. Her arms wrap around his neck, her fingers in his hair. She's surrounding him, enveloping him and it's not nearly enough. He shifts to kiss her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids. He burns a path to her ear, tongue flicking against the lobe. Her moan as he breathes her name sends a bolt of heat straight down his spine.
His warm hands slide beneath her t-shirt, coaxing another moan from her. A soft laugh escapes at his intake of breath when he realizes she's not wearing a bra. She pulls his mouth back to hers, losing herself in his taste as his hands drift over her breasts. A thumb strumming across her tight nipple almost sends her toppling off the bench, but his strong arm around her waist holds her in place.
Their mouths separate reluctantly as he drags the shirt over her head. Their eyes catch and hold. The love and trust burning in hers almost brings him to his knees. She told him once he made her feel safe. It's clear in her eyes as she watches him now.
For a brief moment, he doubts himself, thinking there's no way he can be what she deserves. But she knows him so well now, she reads him instantly and reaches out to cup his cheek. When his eyes meet hers again, she shakes her head, her clear gaze reminding him she loves him, telling him he's exactly what she needs.
He leans into her, urging her off the bench. His hands find her hips and he lifts her onto the piano. Her legs hit the keys, making discordant tones. They melt into the silence and only serve to heighten the sweet tension between them.
Dean's mouth trails along her jaw, down her neck, his tongue leaving a scorching trail in its wake. As his mouth finds her breast, suckling hotly, Sophia leans back on the piano top, curving into him. Her moan echoes in the silence.
Making his way down her body, he worships every inch of skin. His mouth skims along her ribs, tongue swirling teasing circles. Then her flat belly, taking a moment tease her navel. Kissing. Sucking. Licking. He can't get enough. Can't ever get enough of her.
When he reaches the snap on her jean shorts, he pauses his torment to slowly undo the clasp and slide down the zipper. She lifts her hips, allowing him to draw the shorts and her thin panties down and off. Again his mouth tastes her, sliding over her hip, her thigh, her calf. Not an inch of her skin is spared his attention. By the time he presses a kiss to the sole of her foot, she's breathless and shuddering.
His name is a chant on her lips as he glides slowly back up her body, kissing her inner thighs before his tongue seeks out her core. Sophia arches toward him, her hands slipping on the slick surface of the piano. Her foot smashes the keys, the flat notes echoing, drowning out her cries of pleasure. Hands tight on her hips, Dean holds her in place as he devours her, pushing her higher. Wanting only to give her as much pleasure as she can stand and then more, he feels her beginning to come apart. Hears her keening moans. Feels her shuddering as the orgasm washes over her.
She collapses back on the piano, panting. She reaches for him and he pulls her into his arms. His hands move over her, soothing her heated flesh. He murmurs words of love and desire in her ear. She rests her head on his shoulder, arms slung loosely around his waist. When she can breathe again, she sits back, tugging pointedly at his t-shirt. Unable to take his eyes from hers, he reaches back and pulls the shirt over his head.
Sophia's mouth and hands immediately seek the slightly damp skin of his chest. He tastes salty and warm and completely Dean. She hums against him as she explores. Eager hands reach for the fastening of his jeans. The orgasm he's just given her has only taken the edge off her hunger for him and she's longing for more. A certain tinge of melancholy still hangs in the air between them and she wants their physical union to burn it away. Their connection is at its strongest when they make love and right now she needs that connection, needs him to know she's here, needs him to lose himself in her.
She fumbles with the snap and zipper on his jeans, fingers clumsy. Finally succeeding, she pushes them out of the way, freeing him to her eager hands. She strokes him gently, reveling in his smooth hardness as well as the moan he can't hold back. He grabs her hands, growling. A wicked grin slips across her face, vanishing when his mouth meets hers, hot and demanding. She pushes at his chest, urging him to sit back on the piano bench. She straddles him, rubbing against him, whispering his name.
Her mouth fused to his, she rocks into him, hands restless on his back. He swallows her moan as she slides over him, taking him fully within her. His hands cup her bottom, impelling her to move, rocking them together.
He feels whole when he's inside her. The way she accepts him so completely. They fit together perfectly, in so many ways. It's something he never expected to find and something he vows to never take for granted.
They move together, the tension spinning tighter and tighter. Sophia drops her head to his shoulder, arms tight around him as they rock closer and closer to the edge. He's whispering in her ear again; she hears her name, how much he loves her, how much he needs her, how good she feels. His voice is husky with desire and makes her shiver with need.
The dizzying tension building between them finally snaps. Sophia groans softly as she topples over the crest, surging into him. He feels her body clench around him and it sends him over the edge right behind her. She sags against him, breathing heavily. She feels his arms around her, holding her tight and she melts into him with a soft sigh.
They sit like that for a long moment, content to hold each other as they come back to earth. Eventually, Dean pushes her gently from his lap, urging her to stand. He follows, then swings her up in his arms. As he carries her up to their room, she notices a lightness in his eyes that wasn't there before and she smiles to herself. He leans his head down to brush her lips with his, murmuring a thank you full of meaning against them.
Sophia dips her head in a nod, tears pricking her eyes, but dissolving into laughter a moment later when he moves his lips to her ear to suggest she play the piano more often.