AN: Sorry for the wait again, hope this makes up for it!
CH
The faint smell of bleach on the softness of her pillowcase, her body felt warm as she stretched out, feeling her hair slide over her shoulders like a silk chemise. Bliss. She stifled a moan as a hand slide under the sheets, then another, trailing up her calves and the backs of her knees in a gentle, lingering motion. The bed shifted, the weight of another on it, the hands running back down to her feet, massaging, feeling.
Oh god the feeling.
Smoothing upwards, her thighs, her buttocks, pausing to knead the small of her back and then sliding up to brush her hair off her back and then...
A kiss. Feather-light, in between her should blades. Directly on her vertebrae. Or was it vertabra? He'd told her just the other day...
Him. His blue eyes twinkling with self satisfaction that he had been asked to share his knowledge. He loved that.
She liked how he smiled.
Sheldon's smile. Sheldon. A kiss on the shoulder, his hands sliding down to her hips, raising them up, smoothing her thighs, holding her steady...
The most exquisite pleasure. The feeling of him against her, his thighs, behind hers, his hand sliding around to touch her there.
Her chest against the freshly washed sheet, tantalizing, soft, heavy. And then soft words, un ended sentences, building pressure.
She dug her fingernails into the bed and pushed back against him, so deep now, so perfect, the pace faster, arching her back becoming the classic lines of a drawing, swoops and curves and rounded flesh all for him.
Too much. The pleasure.
A half scream, sinking into the mattress, he's with her, still going, groaning now, his weight upon her pushing her down even farther as he shudders and convulses. Collapses. Laughs.
A real laugh.
A deep chuckle. Full of the twang of Texas and the sun through the windows glass.
A banging on the door. Why did she close the door? What time is it?
Oh yes, his mother is here.
She stretches again, taking up the whole bed. Hears the laughter again, and her head shoots up, eyes wide.
A dream, only a dream.
Holy shmoly, the best dream ever.
And what the hell is he laughing at anyways? Her eyes go to the window, the sun on the leaves outside, blue sky. A wonderful day. A shovel scraping on dirt. What on earth?
Her rosebush.
The one he'd lugged home because his mother had said he should buy her some flowers for putting up with him. Because he knew, she preferred her flowers to stay in the garden. They lasted longer that way.
She threw back the covers and jumped out of bed, pulling on a pair of faded shorts and a t-shirt, running her fingers through her hair.
Just another dream, that was all. Didn't mean anything. Just the best dream ever.