Susan's senses might not be any keener than normal, but they still registered things differently, now; the combination of the spell she'd been under earlier, and the after-effects of her self-inflicted horror, conspired to make her oddly aware of things she had never before noticed especially. The warmth of Stephen's touch lingered on her skin in a way she could never remember it doing, and the softness of his shirt as she unbuttoned it seemed different, too, somehow. Perhaps the difference was in herself; perhaps this bizarre night had changed something in her.
In any case, her fingers lingered as they trailed over his shoulders, up his neck, slipping through his hair as she pulled him down to kiss him. He tasted…like Stephen, rich and alive, and she drank in the feel of him against her, one hand traveling down his back and tracing his scars. They too seemed different, now; now that she knew how he must have acquired them. Her fingers lingered over them, too, and she wished she could make them disappear--that she could take away the terrible things he’d carried for gods alone knew how long, and that he’d successfully hidden from her all the time she’d known him.
She couldn’t, though, any more than he could fix the pieces of her she considered fractured. Susan wasn’t and never had been a healer--she was not someone from whom it was easy to take comfort, because she didn’t really know how to give it. All she could do was touch him, and know that he was alive and she was alive and that now, if only for now, that was enough.
Her kiss was brief, though not hesitant, and when her mouth left his she kissed along his jaw, along his neck, breathing in the scent of him again, savoring every moment. He would never be hers again, but for this little while they belonged to each other, in their own way.
no subject
In any case, her fingers lingered as they trailed over his shoulders, up his neck, slipping through his hair as she pulled him down to kiss him. He tasted…like Stephen, rich and alive, and she drank in the feel of him against her, one hand traveling down his back and tracing his scars. They too seemed different, now; now that she knew how he must have acquired them. Her fingers lingered over them, too, and she wished she could make them disappear--that she could take away the terrible things he’d carried for gods alone knew how long, and that he’d successfully hidden from her all the time she’d known him.
She couldn’t, though, any more than he could fix the pieces of her she considered fractured. Susan wasn’t and never had been a healer--she was not someone from whom it was easy to take comfort, because she didn’t really know how to give it. All she could do was touch him, and know that he was alive and she was alive and that now, if only for now, that was enough.
Her kiss was brief, though not hesitant, and when her mouth left his she kissed along his jaw, along his neck, breathing in the scent of him again, savoring every moment. He would never be hers again, but for this little while they belonged to each other, in their own way.