The sun pours in from the cracks in the wall, dancing over her skin like fireflies. He head lolls on the pillow in an effort to stay awake, and he runs his fingers down her back. She smiles and stretches like a cat, and he kisses her shoulder.
“What did you do?” she murmurs. He grins, and says,
“Looks like I rocked your world, kid.” She laughs, shaking her head.
“No, not just now. Before the war?” The mention of the past no longer makes him stiffen, or dive to change the subject. Wanderer, as she had taken to calling herself, had always been interested in what her generation called ‘the Before’ and he was more than happy to answer her every question.
He even told her about his wife, and she had cried, even though the woman died a good two centuries before her birth. He’d been touched.
“I was an army grunt,” he says. “Infantry. Part of what they called an experiment in obedience.”
“Your contract?” she asks, lifting her head up. He nods.
“Uncle Sam gave me more than I signed up for. I was,” he pauses. “I was home on leave when the bombs fell.”
“Sorry,” she murmurs. He continues to rub lazy circles on her back, mesmerized by the smooth skin there.
“S’ok,” he says, pressing kisses up and down her spine. She giggles, squirming to get away from him. His hands find her hips and he holds her in place.
“More,” she says. “Tell me more about you.”
“I like candlelit dinners and walks on the beach,” he deadpans. She laughs.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Take it Further 1b/?
Date: 2012-01-16 09:25 pm (UTC)“What did you do?” she murmurs. He grins, and says,
“Looks like I rocked your world, kid.” She laughs, shaking her head.
“No, not just now. Before the war?” The mention of the past no longer makes him stiffen, or dive to change the subject. Wanderer, as she had taken to calling herself, had always been interested in what her generation called ‘the Before’ and he was more than happy to answer her every question.
He even told her about his wife, and she had cried, even though the woman died a good two centuries before her birth. He’d been touched.
“I was an army grunt,” he says. “Infantry. Part of what they called an experiment in obedience.”
“Your contract?” she asks, lifting her head up. He nods.
“Uncle Sam gave me more than I signed up for. I was,” he pauses. “I was home on leave when the bombs fell.”
“Sorry,” she murmurs. He continues to rub lazy circles on her back, mesmerized by the smooth skin there.
“S’ok,” he says, pressing kisses up and down her spine. She giggles, squirming to get away from him. His hands find her hips and he holds her in place.
“More,” she says. “Tell me more about you.”
“I like candlelit dinners and walks on the beach,” he deadpans. She laughs.
“More history.”
“History’s dead, kid.”