RP post, kind of, VERY locked to tm-wintergreen and lady-kane

[sylph_fics]

Continuing the current RP-plot



Deep in the depths of sleep, a nightmare building in his mind, Slade half-noticed movement that did not fit the dreams, sounds that were not the ones of batt--

Instead, there was solid, strong warmth against his back, against his chest... His senses all said he was safe, and the nightmare that had been trying to build was chased away by gentle, known, familiar hands, and light voices that reassured him. He half-woke, looked, and settled into sleep again, without ever fully coming to grips with his surroundings change.

It would be several hours more before he would start to wake again, and that not due to nightmares, but more because his body simply would not let him sleep longer.

Not that his conscious mind was engaged yet. No, only the senses and instincts spoke, telling him of familiar scents against his chest, his back; familiar sounds of beloved heartbeats and breath; feel of his wife in his arms and his partner behind him.... //Dreaming... I have to be..//

Comments

[masked-merc.livejournal.com]

Slade shuddered against Wintergreen's mouth, the hands running over his shoulders, and obeyed that firm, gentle order with possibly too much speed, re-settling on the bed as he reached for Addie with one hand, stroking light down the skin from her collarbone to the swell of her breast with his fingertips, feeling Wintergreen's gaze, hers, like fire along his skin, wanting them both so badly...

//Different, this. Usually the woman between us, then...// half-puzzled flicker-thought, //but... not with Addie. Not now, at least//--and the very thought that this could be more than this once made him reach back for Wintergreen, blindly trying to lay his hand on skin.

[lady-kane.livejournal.com]

Slade's movement is fast enough to make me blink, the air blurring around him until he is still again, his hand light and delicate on my skin. A trifle too light, a trifle too delicate, but heat pricks my blood as his fingers stroke from my sternum to my breast. I know Slade can hear the way my breathing goes uneven for a moment, the fact that my heart speeds up, and the look on his face as he reaches back for Wintergreen is something beautiful.

My hand on his face, petting the curve of his jaw, stroking over his throat to his collarbone, and it is one more easy thing to smile at him. I do not know quite what is showing on my face. I do not, at the moment, entirely care.