Flame    The Due South Fiction Archive Entry	   Home

 Quicksearch
 Search Engine
 Random Story

 Upload Story

      	  Flame 
 by Keyla Sheppard  

 Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine, don't sue.

 

 Sometimes when you're in his bed, fingers running through his hair and
his breath ghosting over your stomach you think that maybe it's not just
you.

 Maybe it's him too.

 But then you watch him and you start to doubt it again.

 That your more/need/give/please is lost on him.

 You can't know for sure, he's never been that easy to read all the way
through. Like a book that's been ripped in half while you're reading it.
And the rest is there but you have to work harder to find out what goes
where.

 But now he's lying in your arms and you can't help but think he's there
because he understands, feels just the same.

 Maybe his want/more/take/have is just the same as your
more/need/give/please and maybe you do fit together. It feels like you fit
together. You can feel it every time he lands on top of you and you get
lost in his kiss. You feel it when he pushes slowly inside you and he
can't take his eyes off you the whole way in. 

 But sometimes your brain tries to interfere.

 You've tried this before, it doesn't work. Perfect doesn't work.

 That's when you look at him and try to put the pages back together, put
the information he's giving you in some sort of order. Figure out if what
you feel is reflected back to you or if it's just your own hope painting
it there over the real picture.

 Then he's murmuring nothings into your skin as he trails kisses down your
body. While your hands are gripping into the sheets, trying to find
something to grab onto his hands come up to yours and pry your fingers off
the sheets so he can intertwine your fingers and hold on too. 

 When you say please he smiles and there's an almost laugh there. He'll
kiss you then and move just a little so you can get some friction, some of
him.

 It's then that you're absolutely certain that he feels the same you do. 

 He looks at you and there's a small grin on his face and a shine in his
eyes that you only ever seen then. He leans down and kisses you and you're
lost there. 

 He shifts his head a little where it rests against your chest and your
fingers stall in his spiky hair until he stops moving again and then they
start again. He moves again so your hand falls from his head and rests at
the base of his neck where the short blonde hairs rub against your
fingertips. Then he turns his head so he can see you.

 Smiles.

 "Stop thinking so loud."

 And he knows, can probably see it in your eyes, the way every time he
looks at you from next to you, or on you, or across the room he can see
the small flame of doubt. That small flicker that you're not sure will
build or just blow out.

 "Sorry."

 And you do mean it. Sorry about doubting him, sorry about everything. But
he just smiles like you knew he would and stretches up to kiss you softly
before moving and laying next to you instead of on top of you.

 He closes his eyes and flops an arm over your stomach where his breath
isn't warming it anymore. And before you can even think about closing your
eyes and trying to sleep he scoots closer so his stomach is flat up
against your side and his nose nuzzles in at your neck.

 "I'm not going anywhere, Frase. Sleep."

 And maybe it's the way he seems just oh-so-comfortable there, or the way
he hangs on tighter to you when he says that or the way that smile never
leaves his face but you know now.

 Know that he feels just the same.

 Your more/need/give/please is just the same as his want/more/take/have
and that's enough for you.

 The End  
  

End Flame by Keyla Sheppard 

Author and story notes above.  

Please post a comment on this story. 
Read posted comments.