Title: Night Crime
Author: Meesh
Disclaimer: Not Mine. (But the title, 'Night Crime,' is yes, from my screename, which was taken from the song "Night Crimes" by Scout You Devil.)
Summary: Obsession, to say the least.
Pairing: Although it's awfully ambiguous, it's (of course) intended Jean/Rogue
A/N: Whoa! Comeback! COMEBACK! ...ok, not really. So it doesn't really make sense. And the couple isn't really stated. And it's short(er than most of my other stuff). I still wrote something and it's the thought that counts! And c'mon, for a diaper wearing, bottle sucking, rattle shaking incoherent baby, it's pretty good! Ain't that right, Flaeron!? Ain't. That. Right?! =P =)
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She worships you like a gravesite. It's almost sinful. Palms held firm on the flat of your stomach, daring to dig deeper. Past the layer of silk. And she breathes into your ear like prayers floating to God. Trace the contour of your lips. The dip of your navel. Slowly trail each finger nail from hips to knees, then up to cheek. How many other souls have left their flowers here?
Thumb pad over and around the curve of your ear. A light sweat mixed with soft fruit scent. A morning dew slippery on each petal. Her miracle feelings as she mourns for you. Everyday she dresses like a funeral. Dying hopes fall on every inch of untouchable skin. And it rains for her. So sweet, the stray tendrils of hair, the slow breathes you take in...mumbles of 'i love yous' never meant for the right person. Snuggled in next to you, right now, she is the right person.
So brave, she dips in. Wake up the dead with shaking limbs and adrenaline. Sinking pillows and peach soft flesh. Wake up the dead with firecrackers in her eyes and smoke streams trailing past her lips. Dare to kiss.
Weak knuckles buckling and gasp. Gasp. A knee moves up against her leg and movements are sudden. She sees the flush in your face, breathing short. Quick. She slips away to the door left creaked open. And next morning, at the breakfast table, you wonder why her blush seems so sinful.
Author: Meesh
Disclaimer: Not Mine. (But the title, 'Night Crime,' is yes, from my screename, which was taken from the song "Night Crimes" by Scout You Devil.)
Summary: Obsession, to say the least.
Pairing: Although it's awfully ambiguous, it's (of course) intended Jean/Rogue
A/N: Whoa! Comeback! COMEBACK! ...ok, not really. So it doesn't really make sense. And the couple isn't really stated. And it's short(er than most of my other stuff). I still wrote something and it's the thought that counts! And c'mon, for a diaper wearing, bottle sucking, rattle shaking incoherent baby, it's pretty good! Ain't that right, Flaeron!? Ain't. That. Right?! =P =)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She worships you like a gravesite. It's almost sinful. Palms held firm on the flat of your stomach, daring to dig deeper. Past the layer of silk. And she breathes into your ear like prayers floating to God. Trace the contour of your lips. The dip of your navel. Slowly trail each finger nail from hips to knees, then up to cheek. How many other souls have left their flowers here?
Thumb pad over and around the curve of your ear. A light sweat mixed with soft fruit scent. A morning dew slippery on each petal. Her miracle feelings as she mourns for you. Everyday she dresses like a funeral. Dying hopes fall on every inch of untouchable skin. And it rains for her. So sweet, the stray tendrils of hair, the slow breathes you take in...mumbles of 'i love yous' never meant for the right person. Snuggled in next to you, right now, she is the right person.
So brave, she dips in. Wake up the dead with shaking limbs and adrenaline. Sinking pillows and peach soft flesh. Wake up the dead with firecrackers in her eyes and smoke streams trailing past her lips. Dare to kiss.
Weak knuckles buckling and gasp. Gasp. A knee moves up against her leg and movements are sudden. She sees the flush in your face, breathing short. Quick. She slips away to the door left creaked open. And next morning, at the breakfast table, you wonder why her blush seems so sinful.