Scenes in the Darkness

Moira and Charles, Miscommunication

He looked at Moira, sleeping in the chair. His heart constricted with the kind of sweet pain he learned to associate with everything Moira. His memories, her memory, her trust, his betrayal. Her suddenly just being there, no explanation given.
She looked incredibly uncomfortable, even with the travel pillow supporting her head. Her head was tipped back, her face lined with worry and stress. He felt the discomfort even without any telepathy applied.
He licked his lips and focused on sitting up. Slowly, slowly he rose, feeling his hands tremble from effort.
I really must work on this once Hank sets up the gym he mused, rolling to the side, pushing his legs forward and off the bed And, I suppose, I should eat something at last. Finally he got close enough to touch her. He needed to touch her, to make sure she was actually there, in his room, in his old armchair. In her very non-office and non-business tank top and tracksuit pants and her hair in a low ponytail. Very domestic.
He caught the armrest of the chair and pulled it towards him.
She stirred and looked at him with confusion. The whole picture was so sweet, with her mussed hair and slightly unfocused eyes, that he pulled harder and the chair finally rolled and came to rest next to the bed.
'Charles, what are you doing?' she squinted, tired, her voice full of suspicion.
His arm encircled her waist and with one sharp movement he sat her on the bed and with the other, sent the chair away.
'I'm getting you to sleep in a better position. This thing can't be good for your neck' he pulled the C-shaped pillow away and threw it in more or less the chair's direction. 'Here' he tipped his head to the other side of his bed. 'Please?'
She regarded him calmly for several seconds, making him swallow in dread.
'First' she finally said 'you are getting back under these covers. Scoot."
He obediently moved back, supporting himself on his hands, legs dragging. He never hated his legs more than at that moment. She however stood up and matter-of-factly pulled them onto the bed and covered with the quilt he only minutes ago freed himself from. She sat on the bed and faced him, for once, again, a bit shorter than him.
Her face was so tired he wanted to pull her closer and never let go, making the world go away. He knew however, quite clearly, that he was probably the main reason for her being so exhausted so he limited himself to taking her hand and bringing it up to his lips for a lingering kiss on her palm.
He heard her gasp at the contact and looked up, straight into her tearing-up eyes. He noticed her flushed skin, her slightly open mouth - pretty, pink little mouth he wished to explore in detail - and her faster breathing.
'Moira' he whispered. 'Moira, I...'
'Shh.'
She leaned towards him, freeing her hand to trace the line of his jaw, ear, forehead, down his nose and to his lips. He caught her finger in his mouth, drawing his tongue across the tip, never breaking eye contact with her. On his crooked smile her heartbeat went up. Catching her hand again with his own, he pulled it to his side, and her towards him, after all.
'Charles' she moaned in a whisper. 'Charles, what are you...'
'This time properly' he murmured, cradling her face with his left hand and his right going around her waist and pulling her in.
She jerked up and away, blanching in fear.
'You mean to repeat this...!?' she hissed. 'After all I went through?!'
He stared at her in confusion, not letting go of her hand despite her frantic attempts to free herself, but the panic and the underlying reason was practically rolling off her in waves.
'No!' he exclaimed softly. 'No, please, Moira, no!'
He dragged her towards him with both hands, tucking her into the crook of his arm.
'Moira, I'm so sorry. So very, very sorry' he whispered into her hair. 'I will never touch your mind again, I promise. Never. I am an idiot. I am a sorry idiot. I'm pathetic, actually. I was so afraid I never once paused to consider what I was doing. I'm so sorry.'
He felt her inhale, her whole body shivering. He carefully rolled her head onto his other arm so that she was looking up and he could finally regard her closely. She blinked, tears leaving shiny tracks on her skin.
'Charles...' she whispered.
'Moira.'
They regarded each other in silence until, suddenly, she pressed her cheek into the softness of his shirt, sighing with relief.
'I'm so sorry' he said again. 'Will you... Would you allow me to try again?'
She nodded in agreement and sat up a little, freeing herself from his grasp. His hands found their way back into her hair and around her waist, tickling the naked skin just above the pants hem.
'Moira' he whispered like a prayer and slowly inched forward, his lips meeting hers fleetingly, but making them both gasp. 'I want this to be something...' he didn't say to remember, fortunately. 'I want this to be the very best.'
She smiled slightly and looked up at him.
Their lips met again, slowly and lingeringly. He pushed her head a bit to the side to gain better access to her sweet lips and explored the possibilities the position provided. He felt her responding - her hands gripping his shoulders, her body drawn up to his, her breasts crushed against his body, her breath coming in short gasps whenever they separated for even a split second.
He made it the quest of that evening to make Moira moan his name. He licked, nibbled with his lips, carefully bit with his teeth. He soothed her flaming cheeks with his kisses, coming down to her exquisite white neck and back again towards her forehead.
'Moira' he whispered against her cheek, leaving a trail of kisses. 'Please, Moira.'
He didn't know what he was begging for, but she answered by pressing herself closer to him and it seemed to be the right answer.
'Charles' she panted, resting her forehead against his and making them separate for a moment.
He used the momentary lull to drag her closer and get a better hold on her waist.
'Moira, I'm so sorry. I never should have done that, I've betrayed you and I will spend forever rebuilding whatever trust you've ever had in me. If you allow me. Please?'
She felt his palm against her cheek again and she found herself pulled up and finally his lips covered hers in full and she could feel his desperation and longing. He was holding her like a lifeline and kissing her deeply, all tongue and lips and she felt her contact with self slipping and all she knew were her lips and her hands suddenly around his neck and her fingers threading in his luscious, soft hair, holding him securely to her.