notabricklayer: (Raised eyebrow of doom)
notabricklayer ([personal profile] notabricklayer) wrote2010-10-23 11:18 pm

(no subject)

The lights of their apartment come up in the way he is used to lights coming on the way he is used to lights coming on - smoothing increasing from dark to light with barely a hitch inbetween. The apartment is the same as before - a naturally quirky Victorian that's slightly stark thanks to the driven surgeon who had made this his home once upon a time.

He always meant to take time off, decorate the place a little more elaborately, set it up to be more of a home than a place to collapse after long shifts. Maybe now's time.

But right now he can do something about these damned boots. Some day he is going to both fund and write a paper outlining the evils of these boots, and he'll stuff it down the throats of every lazy ass on the Starfleet Surgeon General's board.

[identity profile] olyabird.livejournal.com 2010-11-08 06:50 am (UTC)(link)
Her head tips back and she reaches for him, one hand brushing against his cheek, reaching up to weave in his hair. Her breath comes ragged and shallow, and she's trembling with exertion. His mouth finds her skin sheened with sweat, and she gasps as the last few aftershocks take her by surprise.

She lets slip a low curse in her native tongue, a sound as deeply appreciative as it is vulgar.

[identity profile] notabricklayer.livejournal.com 2010-11-08 07:06 am (UTC)(link)
He chuckles softly against her skin, one hand sliding around her chest, the other around her waist, holding her close for just a bit longer. There's a smell that is uniquely her, and he fills his head with it as his heart slowly decides to stop racing along like warp engines gone out of control.

[identity profile] olyabird.livejournal.com 2010-11-08 07:14 am (UTC)(link)
Her hand drops to cover his at her waist, holding him close, and she slowly goes slack beneath him, letting their legs tangle. Eventually, when she can breathe again, she turns just enough to capture his mouth in a tender kiss, almost chaste in its simplicity.

[identity profile] notabricklayer.livejournal.com 2010-11-08 07:28 am (UTC)(link)
Carefully he twists so they can both lie down, and he's still spooned tightly around her. A protective gesture, for someone who doesn't truly need protecting. He is so comfortable here, between her warmth and the fire, sated and knowing he's managed to do the same for her.

It is all very good.

[identity profile] olyabird.livejournal.com 2010-11-08 07:39 am (UTC)(link)
She nestles down, her head pillowed against his arm, letting a deep sigh go. Content. Safe. Sated. Sleep isn't but a few breaths away.