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 Posted: Sun Nov 25, 2012 9:33 pm
Wash made his way back to his own room with a strange sense of unease, one he hadn't felt in some time. That display at the dinner table - it had been bold, flagrant; so much in such a small gesture.
But she'd been drinking.
Had she meant it? Or had it just been a momentary indiscretion? It was so insignificant while at the same time deeply important. He would let it go if she willed it. He would let her tear him down, and build him up again, and savor it, if that was what she would have of him. It wasn't desperation so much as certainty - she had given him something he hadn't known he'd lost. Something minute and precious.
He could feel again.
It had been a long time since he had experienced much of anything beyond pain, guilt, and regret. There had been moments of clarity, but they had long become overshadowed by the endless string of lonely nights; empty evenings. It had been a struggle to make friends and find his place, because he questioned and doubted, even as he tried to move forward. Mired in his past, a past that gave him strength even as it cost him dearly.
Every step, so careful. Every word, every gesture, all put aside in the last few weeks for a blue-eyed girl.
She made him feel alive. Electric. On fire. Intensified. Lust, certainly, but deeper than that - a kind of understanding. She listened, and he responded in kind. Laid herself out, each piece precious, warped by time and trial but no less beautiful. That razor-sharp mind of hers, hidden beneath those long, long lashes, tar-black hair and full lips. Her lazy, pleased smile, juxtaposed with that predatory grin.
They'd been through things, seen and experienced true horrors, but it was never spoken of. She was such a complicated thing, but it was like a prism -there was a kind of jarring beauty in her facets, and she had a light all her own. The sensation of being known and accepted was both peaceful and thrilling, but it was a tremulous one. He was afraid of what might happen if they ventured into the dark.
And so Washington Becker pushed open the door, not entirely sure what to expect. Perhaps nothing at all; or maybe everything.
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Posted: Sun Nov 25, 2012 10:24 pm
If there was one thing that Sasha could say with every certainty, it was that Wash was a kind man - a good man. A gentle man, and yet there was a passion that thrummed just below the surface, so electrifying that Sasha could taste it each time she was near him. There was also a sort of sorrow in him, something she could sense in herself, something that they shared.
However, where she craved everything she'd been denied her entire life, Wash was not nearly so demanding. That easy smile, those sweet, gentle brown eyes. He had never asked anything of her, had always taken whatever she felt comfortable giving. Perhaps it was the secrecy that made her feel comfortable opening up to him.
No, that wasn't it.
They'd shared a harrowing experience. He'd willingly laid his life down for her in the Lair. He would have let her kill him so that she might survive. He'd held her in his arms as she'd died over and over again in the most excruciating of ways. In the cages, too, he'd been nothing but a bastion of support, a gentle touch, a warm light in the darkness.
If they hadn't gone through that experience, would they have looked to one another for companionship? Would she still be with the unpredictable Jerry, looking after him, taking care of him? Sasha didn't know, in all honesty.
As she made her way into the room she shared with Wash, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it with a loud, heavy sigh. Her head fell back. Had she made a mistake? Wash deserved someone who wasn't splintered, torn, shattered. Didn't he?
Or did he deserve someone like her? She had never judged him, not once, for the decisions he'd made, the choices that had brought him to the island, that had left his wife and child behind. She never would judge him - because he did not judge her. There was a comfortable acceptance between them. She could be herself without worrying that she might frighten him off - without worrying that he might try to fix her.
When she'd kissed him at dinner, she'd been intoxicated, yes - but she also knew exactly what she was doing. She was not ashamed of their relationship. Sasha no longer wanted to hide in secrecy behind closed doors. Life was too short, and their tomorrows were never a promised thing. While there had been a certain thrill to it all… this was more important. This honesty, at least with one another.
They didn't owe anyone else anything.
When the door opened, Sasha stood from her seated position on the bed. There was an odd sensation in her stomach. Nervousness? Clasping her hands, Sasha met Wash's eyes with a calmness she didn't feel. While she trusted him implicitly, there was a little piece of her - that frightened, terrified, acceptance-seeking little girl - that feared that she would never, ever be enough for anyone.
She remained silent, watching him.
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Posted: Sun Nov 25, 2012 11:06 pm
The sight of her, as of late, had a distinct effect on him, and he savored it, pausing for a moment before slipping through the door; resisting the pull. Her eyes were calm pools. Her hands clasped in front of her as she waited, watched.
What was going on in that finely-tuned mind of hers?
He imagined it was a place of angles, of equal parts light and dark; a dangerous mosaic. Wild and beautiful. She was so slight, slender, to be so untamed. How had he not noticed this haunting dichotomy before? Or was it just that these past months had caused the girl to become a woman?
He wondered if she knew what others saw. How she had come into her own; and owned what she became. She was so full of plans, motivations - and yet she deigned to spend time with a fellow like him. He, who had spend so long looking behind instead of ahead. So much time spent on should-haves and coulda-beens. And now, with so much in the here and now, no time to look forward, no idea what might lie ahead.
Awe-struck.
He closed the door quietly, eyes soft, a small smile - sad, for things past; hopeful for things to come. That was what she was to him, beyond the pain and fear and uncertainty - that warmth. Hope. If she could bear all of this, and continue onward, so could he.
Wash approached her quietly, stopping just short of touching.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
He smiled down on her, sadness and warmth. "How're you feelin'?" Small movements. Careful words. He hoped for much; but expected little. Wouldn't ask for more than she could give, even in this.
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2012 9:01 am
Sasha inhaled deeply, allowing herself a moment to simply enjoy his scent, his nearness, the way he filled the room. His height, his breadth, the way his shirt clung to the toned curve of his shoulders. This man, tall and broad and strong, had been the only man she'd ever opened herself to in all the ways that mattered. Physically, yes, but also emotionally - Wash had seen her at her darkest, locked in the throes of death that had felt never-ending. He had taken something she'd freely given, something so insignificant and yet so poignantly momentous to her.
Sasha made the small shift forward that would bring her closer to him, her hands slipping beneath the hem of his shirt to trail up the muscles of his abdomen - and higher still, coming to a stop just as her fingers brushed against his collarbone. She could feel the rhythmic thud of his heart against the palm of her hand. Strong and steady, just like the man it powered.
She tilted her head to the side, lifting her face up so that she might meet his eyes. Everything about him, so gentle and warm, and a smile toyed with her lips. How was she feeling?
"Free," Sasha murmured softly. "Proud. Thankful."
Her nails grazed the richly colored skin of his shoulders. Her eyes narrowed just the slightest, darkening in the warm light of the room.
"Possessive." Sasha pressed closer, lips parting in a smile. "And you? How are you feeling?"
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2012 1:38 pm
He raised his hands up to meet hers, dragging along the digits through the cloth of his shirt, watching as he slid them down her arms. They grazed the bend of her arm, tracing slowly upward to rest his palms across her narrow shoulders. He pressed his thumbs to warm skin of her neck, felt her pulse, raised his eyes to meet hers.
Warmth. Hope. Contentment. Excited, intrigued, owned; wholly taken. He didn't fear tiring of those depths. So many things remained unsaid.
"I s'pose I am a man possessed," he rumbled finally, letting one hand trail up to cup her cheek.
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2012 2:26 pm
There was something about his warm hand against her skin that made it hard to think, hard to focus. Everything else in the world seemed so much more bearable when he was near, when she thought of his touch against her skin, his fingers in her hair, his lips wandering as they liked.
What they had was passionate, yes - but there was something more. Something soothing, calming about him.
"I like the sound of that," Sasha fairly purred, scraping her nails ever-so-slightly against his pectorals before spreading her fingers flush against his skin. Her eyes closed briefly as he cupped her cheek, opening after a short time so that she could peer into the rich chocolate of his eyes.
"I would do anything for you, you know." She quieted, fingers trailing lazy circles against his skin. "I have never wanted another person so completely." A small furrow creased the spot between her brows as she frowned.
"Does that make me weak?"
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2012 6:30 pm
He smiled, and the smile reached all the way to his eyes. Her, weak?
Never.
"Does this," he murmured, running his thumb gently across her lower lip, drawing up her chin to graze his mouth against hers, "feel weak?"
Wash paused for a moment, drawing back to let his eyes lazily roam her face. Thinking. "That's somethin' you're gonna have t'answer for yourself," he intoned quietly. It was a risk; as was any emotional investment. It required a kind of bravery, especially in a place like this - he remembered dark cells and whispers of death. The sound of multi-segmented feet scratching against a stone floor. A choice; go first, or be last, and watch the others fall.
It didn't come without rewards, however. He leaned down, to lay a chaste kiss against her lips.
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2012 7:30 pm
"No."
Sasha's eyes flared at the touch of his thumb against her lip, her breath warm as it passed through her lips on a shaky exhale. His touch didn't make her feel weak. It ignited her, unfurling slowly before consuming her completely. How one man had such a power over her.. it was incredible. Even still, she was not frightened. Not of Wash. He would never turn on her, never use that frailty against her. If there was one thing she could say with all certainty, it was that her trust was well-placed in this man.
Even his chaste kiss left her feeling restless, eager.
"If it is," Sasha urged his shirt up, intent on removing it completely, "I think it is one weakness I'm happy to have."
Sasha paused in her actions, eyes heavy-lidded as she peered up at him.
"Should I feel guilty? I don't," she rushed to assure him, "about you, about us, about this. I almost feel as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. But," Sasha paused and bit her lower lip, worrying it for a moment before speaking again, "it's not fair to you to be put in such an.. awkward situation."
She tugged at the shirt, working to pull it over his head.
"You know what I'm talking about."
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Posted: Tue Nov 27, 2012 12:08 pm
He helped her, slipping the shirt over his head, skin prickling with goosebumps in the cool air. "Lotsa things ain't fair, cher. It's... not your fault."
He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before letting his gaze fall back to hers. Wash slipped his own large hands under the hem of the bottom of her blouse, letting his fingers drag along the waistline of her skirt before sliding up her ribs, teasing at the edge of her underwire. "Can't help you bein' such a," a slight pressure, a sensation of the fabric being pushed away from the skin by his calloused digits, "captivatin' young woman."
He kneaded the skin there, slipping up the sides and around, never quite touching the curves that rose just above that fine line. "I'll talk to 'im. Let him decide what he wants." Only awkward if you let it be. He had no doubt it would be an uncomfortable conversation, but... The idea of being able to be honest with the man was almost a relief.
Whatever would be, would be.
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Posted: Tue Nov 27, 2012 1:33 pm
Wash made it impossible to think when he touched her, and Sasha's cheeks grew warm - not with embarrassment, but flushed with desire. While he busied himself with her shirt, her hands took liberties with the span of muscles that rippled beneath his skin with each movement he made.
"I should talk to him too," she remarked, a cool edge to her tone, one that belied the heat that pinked her cheeks, "but that will depend on how your conversation goes." Sasha grazed her fingers up his biceps, his shoulders, the back of his neck before she let out a low sound, leaning forward to press her lips against his sternum.
"I'm tired of talking right now," Sasha uttered softly, settling her hands at the waist of his pants. "I want you."
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Posted: Tue Nov 27, 2012 3:58 pm
"You, ma'am," he began, moving his hands down out of her shirt to wrap around her own and dragging them to rest at his navel, "may 'ave me anytime you want me."
Wash popped the button on his jeans but let them zip, half-undone, to tug teasingly at the hem of her shirt.
"Your turn."
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Posted: Tue Nov 27, 2012 4:52 pm
Sasha quickly acquiesced, eyes on the prize.
"I always want you," she whispered, slipping her shirt off. It fell to the floor with a whisper-soft sound. The rest of her clothes were quick to follow.
Words were no longer needed.
Sasha had a way of getting exactly what she wanted.
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