fuzzyspork (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fuzzyspork) wrote2011-07-21 06:00 pm
fuzzyspork) wrote2011-07-21 06:00 pm
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Simspiration: Pillow
Inspired by the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sim_spiration prompt "Pillow". Written in my head while washing dishes a little while ago. Committed to text in even less time with little regard for grammar. Rated PG, very mildly. Typos ahoy...
The Players: Nightshade and PJ from my OWBC
--------------------------------------------------------------
PJ rolled onto her side, supporting her head in her hand, and adjusted the pillow under her elbow until her line of vision was level with the side of his face. Night was stretched out next to her, head propped against the headboard, with the mate to her pillow behind his back. His eyes were intent on the book he held open in front of him with one hand, while the other hand rested palm-down on his bare stomach. PJ watched his face for several minutes, his eyes scanning from side to side across the text. Finally, out of curiosity, she lifted her chin and glanced at the page he was so absorbed in, but she couldn‘t make out anything from this angle. On the verge of asking what the book was about, she paused when he raised the hand that had been resting on his stomach and turned the page.
It was a simple motion, but it was enough to remind her of just how unnervingly graceful he was. If she had not been watching, she would have missed the movement completely, even while being only inches away. PJ had never known Nightshade to move with anything other than quiet purpose and careful calculation. As if the weight of every step, the flex of every muscle, and every tilt of his head had been choreographed in advance. Nothing ever seemed to unbalance him. He was like a ballet even while sitting perfectly still.
PJ watched Night’s hand slowly settle onto his stomach again. The gentleness of the action gave her the impression of a leaf coming to rest on a flat patch of pale moss. She marveled at the viridian translucence of his skin. The veins at the surface on the back of his hand resembled deep blue rivulets seen from far above a grassy marsh. His fingers were straight and tapered. His hands were strong, but surprisingly tender. She knew his hands as well as she knew her own. His hands had always fascinated her.
Night’s hands weren’t even the most fascinating thing about him, PJ realized as her eyes moved across the landscape of his body. Even the unusual color of his skin could not distract from the fact that he was pleasingly well formed. Not muscular, but toned and taut. PJ let her gaze slide down his legs to the tips of each toe and back up again. Subconsciously she bit her lip as the visual journey moved across the towel that was still loosely draped around Night’s hips after his evening shower. Her eyes casually climbed up his torso, pausing to watch his chest rise and fall for several breaths. She admired the span of his shoulders. The curve of his neck… His lips…
“What.” He was looking at her with those startling blue eyes, one black eyebrow raised in a playful arch. The corner of his mouth barely held off the smile it seemed to be wrestling with.
PJ’s cheeks and ears grew uncomfortably hot with what she realized must be a spectacular blush. Why was she blushing? She had tossed the bed sheets around with this man more times than she could count, but being caught ogling him like that was inexplicably embarrassing! Did he have to look so smug? Did his eyes have to be so blue?
“You’re beautiful” PJ said it without having considered the words first.
Night rolled his eyes, “Jeez, babe, you need glasses.” He turned his attention back to the book, but she could tell he wasn‘t reading anymore. His brows were drawn together and lowered over his eyes in that defensive way he was so fond of. Was he blushing now? It was so hard to tell on him.
“I don’t need glasses,” PJ sat up and pulled the book out of his grasp, tossing it onto the foot of the bed. She leaned over him looking him square in the face, embarrassment aside, “Why can’t you be beautiful to me?”
Night silently stared back with that perplexing expression she could not read even after all this time. Was it sorrow? Anger? Confusion? The emotion never coalesced into something she could absolutely recognize. It was like trying to make out an image reflected in a rippling pool of water.
As the silent storm continued to roll across Night’s face, a twang of panic hit PJ in the chest. Had she made him angry at her? But the thought barely registered when suddenly Night’s expression softened and he seemed to physically relax, despite the fact he hadn‘t so much as even twitched a muscle. He reached up and cupped PJ’s face with those strong, tender hands she loved so much, and kissed her lips so softly she would have scarcely felt it had his mouth not been so warm.
Still touching his lips to hers, he whispered, “I love you.”
sim_spiration prompt "Pillow". Written in my head while washing dishes a little while ago. Committed to text in even less time with little regard for grammar. Rated PG, very mildly. Typos ahoy...The Players: Nightshade and PJ from my OWBC
--------------------------------------------------------------
PJ rolled onto her side, supporting her head in her hand, and adjusted the pillow under her elbow until her line of vision was level with the side of his face. Night was stretched out next to her, head propped against the headboard, with the mate to her pillow behind his back. His eyes were intent on the book he held open in front of him with one hand, while the other hand rested palm-down on his bare stomach. PJ watched his face for several minutes, his eyes scanning from side to side across the text. Finally, out of curiosity, she lifted her chin and glanced at the page he was so absorbed in, but she couldn‘t make out anything from this angle. On the verge of asking what the book was about, she paused when he raised the hand that had been resting on his stomach and turned the page.
It was a simple motion, but it was enough to remind her of just how unnervingly graceful he was. If she had not been watching, she would have missed the movement completely, even while being only inches away. PJ had never known Nightshade to move with anything other than quiet purpose and careful calculation. As if the weight of every step, the flex of every muscle, and every tilt of his head had been choreographed in advance. Nothing ever seemed to unbalance him. He was like a ballet even while sitting perfectly still.
PJ watched Night’s hand slowly settle onto his stomach again. The gentleness of the action gave her the impression of a leaf coming to rest on a flat patch of pale moss. She marveled at the viridian translucence of his skin. The veins at the surface on the back of his hand resembled deep blue rivulets seen from far above a grassy marsh. His fingers were straight and tapered. His hands were strong, but surprisingly tender. She knew his hands as well as she knew her own. His hands had always fascinated her.
Night’s hands weren’t even the most fascinating thing about him, PJ realized as her eyes moved across the landscape of his body. Even the unusual color of his skin could not distract from the fact that he was pleasingly well formed. Not muscular, but toned and taut. PJ let her gaze slide down his legs to the tips of each toe and back up again. Subconsciously she bit her lip as the visual journey moved across the towel that was still loosely draped around Night’s hips after his evening shower. Her eyes casually climbed up his torso, pausing to watch his chest rise and fall for several breaths. She admired the span of his shoulders. The curve of his neck… His lips…
“What.” He was looking at her with those startling blue eyes, one black eyebrow raised in a playful arch. The corner of his mouth barely held off the smile it seemed to be wrestling with.
PJ’s cheeks and ears grew uncomfortably hot with what she realized must be a spectacular blush. Why was she blushing? She had tossed the bed sheets around with this man more times than she could count, but being caught ogling him like that was inexplicably embarrassing! Did he have to look so smug? Did his eyes have to be so blue?
“You’re beautiful” PJ said it without having considered the words first.
Night rolled his eyes, “Jeez, babe, you need glasses.” He turned his attention back to the book, but she could tell he wasn‘t reading anymore. His brows were drawn together and lowered over his eyes in that defensive way he was so fond of. Was he blushing now? It was so hard to tell on him.
“I don’t need glasses,” PJ sat up and pulled the book out of his grasp, tossing it onto the foot of the bed. She leaned over him looking him square in the face, embarrassment aside, “Why can’t you be beautiful to me?”
Night silently stared back with that perplexing expression she could not read even after all this time. Was it sorrow? Anger? Confusion? The emotion never coalesced into something she could absolutely recognize. It was like trying to make out an image reflected in a rippling pool of water.
As the silent storm continued to roll across Night’s face, a twang of panic hit PJ in the chest. Had she made him angry at her? But the thought barely registered when suddenly Night’s expression softened and he seemed to physically relax, despite the fact he hadn‘t so much as even twitched a muscle. He reached up and cupped PJ’s face with those strong, tender hands she loved so much, and kissed her lips so softly she would have scarcely felt it had his mouth not been so warm.
Still touching his lips to hers, he whispered, “I love you.”