Disclaimer: Me. No. Own.
A/N: It's relatively short because I couldn't decide what I should do after this and then decided that it would just be a stand alone. Basically, it was just an idea that I liked simply because I got to play with language. So, I may or may not be adding more to this later. I don't know.
She was the only one still there; eyes lingering on the small details of his face, drinking in every change of his expression under the shadows of the fading sun. He tried to keep his blue orbs from glancing at her in a sidelong, curious fashion but they wouldn't listen to reason. And every time he glanced at her, her eyes danced away like wet soap from slippery fingers, a blush tinting her cheekbones that made him slightly uncomfortable.
Fireflies were dancing around them both, their green light giving off the romantic air of candlelight as they sat on the blanket and pretended to be more interested in the barely-visible stars than in each other's expressions. Finally, she sighed heavily and shifted in her position, turning to lean her back against his and rest her head on his neck, face looking up into his eyes to gather his reaction.
He lifted an eyebrow, not trusting his voice, as he waited patiently for her to explain what was on her mind. She had to go first.
"You know," she started lightly, her breath whispering across his neck in teasing pants. "Forty is hella old." She smirked.
He glowered.
"Yeah, well, twenty-six is hella young."
"Maybe," she agreed, smirk still lingering on her lips. "But they say a woman's sex life is at it's prime when she's in her late-twenties."
He fought, very hard, to keep the groan that was begging to make it's way past his lips from achieving it's goal. It wasn't easy. "Pan," he admonished, tone slightly darker than it had been.
"What?" She asked innocently, blinking her eyes like a guilty child. He pushed his body into hers, knocking her off balance and making her topple completely onto the blanket they were on. "What?" She repeated, adding extra stress to the word.
"Tell me you know nothing about the subject." He pleaded, not trusting himself to look at her as he asked.
"I'm not as innocent as I look, Trunks." She prodded, biting her bottom lip as his eyes found her face again, questioning, searching. "Or at least," she admitted finally, upon noting his restrained annoyance with her response. "I wish I wasn't."
"There's nothing wrong with being innocent, Pan." He spoke dryly, affected for a reason he didn't quite want to admit. She sat back up, resuming her position against his back, face looking up at him.
She quirked an eyebrow before replying, "Is that how you like them, Trunks? Innocent?"
This time he couldn't restrain the groan.
He rolled his eyes to the top of his head as he pushed his body against hers again, knocking her back down. "What are you doing?" He asked softly, after adjusting his body so that he was hovering above her, his face close to her own.
"Falling," She whispered, voice so soft he had to lean in to hear her. "Trying to pull you with me." She closed her eyes after she said it, licking her lips slowly and then holding her breath to await his response.
"Well, would you stop?" He nearly pleaded, shifting so that he could touch her cheek softly and get her to open her eyes. "I'm too old for this."
"Who the hell's too old for something like this?" She questioned, slightly louder than he had been, eyes opening in a silent dare; she didn't think he could come up with an answer.
"Well maybe you're too young." He tried again, brow wrinkling in an attempt to justify the 'why not'.
"Twenty-six is hella young." She agreed, though her tone made it clear that she didn't mean it the way he wanted her to. She was simply trying to appease him.
"And forty's hella old."
"We've already been here." She acknowledged, lifting her hand to stroke the one he still had on her cheek. He sighed.
"What are you doing?" He asked again, voice softer than it had been all night, more restrained.
"I've already told you that too." She informed him, smirking yet again. "Gonna tell me to stop again?" She quipped, eyes twinkling.
"You're leaving." He reminded her.
"Not tonight." She challenged.
"In two days."
"That's forty-eight hours." With each sentence, they moved closer to each other. They were so close they were inhaling and exhaling each other's breaths.
"It's only forty-eight hours."
"It only takes a couple hours to do what I had in mind." She teased. He groaned again.
"I can't." But even as he said it, he leaned in a little closer to her.
Their lips caught, not fiery or frenzied, but softly and quickly. Together and then apart, as if they were about to be walked in upon snatching cookies from the jar. She leaned up, to repeat the contact, but he pulled away. That was usually how it went.
She frowned and pushed her arms up, bumping into his shoulders and forcing him away from her. "You can." She informed him as the space above her cleared of his body and she sat up. "You don't want to."
"You're not mine." He reminded her softly, a shimmer of pain that she couldn't quite grasp, dancing through his eyes.
"I'm yours tonight." She promised, shifting so that she was sitting up, leaning against her palms and facing him. Her body stance was clear; a perfect offering. Who was he to refuse?
It was hot out, not stifling, just warm enough to make them comfortable under the stars. They were slightly secluded, covered by the trees on either side, and the water in the distance. Nothing but clouds, sky, and nature. No one.
Both their faces were flushed from a natural heat of desire, both their breathing slightly hitched as she awaited his response to her statement.
He didn't refuse.
He moved over her, both their bodies falling lightly onto the blanket as they kissed. Both of them imagining they were each other's, both of them pretending that nothing was out of the ordinary. They dissolved into a mass of hands, legs, and lips as their bodies intertwined and they faded into one person. One whole.
Each of them drifted to another place, another time. Giving their hearts, bodies, souls to each other amid the flowers, underneath the stars. Breathless and fervent, he swept over her like wind from the trees, moving over and inside with sweet intensity.
They stayed that way for a while, tangled amid the fireflies, as the crescent moon began to shine above them. Pan buried her head in Trunks' chest, not wanting to look, not wanting to leave. She didn't want the dream to end, the magic to cease. She had never felt so warm or secure, never so happy and sated as she did in Trunks' arms. She belonged to him, in every sense of the word.
Slowly, she drifted back down to earth as she felt him stir beside her. His head was angled down, examining her face. There was smile on his, no sign of regret anywhere. That was good, she would have died if there had been regret. She'd never felt this way before.
She smiled back up at him, not allowing herself to acknowledge how late it was getting or the fact that there were rain-clouds hovering above them like ominous warnings of disaster. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, embracing her, and kissed the top of her forehead.
She heard him whisper something, so lightly it sounded more like a wisp of wind than a human voice, and could distantly make out the function of the words. Grinning, she nudged into him and whispered it back.
Overhead, a flash disrupted their paradise, bringing them back to the world of the living. Lightning illuminated the dark sky, coloring their intimate pose with electric shivers; thunder boomed and the skies opened wide.
They both jumped up at the same time, grabbing their clothes and throwing them on. Trunks grabbed the blanket with one hand and Pan's hand with the other. Together, hand in hand, they ran from the rain, laughter erupting from their throats like the rolls of thunder overhead.
A few minutes from her house they both stopped, hands still tangled together like spaghetti, and dazedly looked at each other. Both their faces were glowing with some light that had never been there before, Pan's cheeks appearing more plump and adorable than ever before.
He leaned down, a tentative gesture, and brushed his lips against hers. Lightly, like always, and then pulled back. Her eyes sparked for the briefest of seconds before returning to normal, and then she dropped his hand and turned around. She took one step before he gathered his courage again and cupped her hand back into his own, pulling lightly to force her to turn around and face him.
She was biting her lip when she did so, but there was curiosity in her eyes. Without pause, he smiled and leaned down, drowning her lips in his own. Her arms sealed his neck in their embrace, her body pressing against his as if she never wanted to be separated. He wished it could be this way forever. This very moment for all eternity.
But he knew better.
He pulled away slowly, resting his forehead against her own, looking down into her eyes with a sad sort of happiness there. There was so much he wanted to say and didn't know how to phrase. So much he wanted her to know but couldn't tell her. So many things that hurt, things that couldn't be changed or rectified, things that drove him crazy inside. Yet there was nothing he could do or say to make it better. Saying anything would ruin this. And he couldn't ruin this; it had been a perfect night, he meant to keep it that way.
"Remember me this way." Was all he said as he pulled away from her, making them two instead of one. He couldn't hold her; he had to let her fly.
If there was one thing he had learned in his life it was this: you couldn't keep butterflies caged under glass; but if she came back, she was his for life.
A/N: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and feel free to review!