May 21, 2003.05.21.03. - be gentle? [rune][noje]
(james)
suddenly, the Xanax wore off
yes, quite suddenly
one moment he's floating about in some drug induced (pain infused) slumber
and the next he's staring at her (their) ceiling
and practically levatating out of the waterbedbut since it sinks and swims beneath him
he doesn't get very far before agreeing that was a very, very bad idea
(...... ow.)
blinking away the surroundings
focusing on the hazy remnants of the nightmarewait... switch that
maybe the drugs haven't worn off yet(rune)
He won't find her in the bed, though from his lofty position, he may turn to see her, sleeping upright on the floor. Upright, of course, is a relative term. Slumped down, one leg splayed out before her, the other crooked and bent at the knee to support her elbow which supports her forehead.How long he's been there, impossible to tell. The numbers on the clock are obscured by the tall glass of water and the prescription bottle beside them. Even the scent of his blood (the wound, bound, aches and burns and claws at his gut, but it no longer seeps and it no longer weeps) is swallowed by other scents: her shampoo and her soap, the ashen underpinnings of her cigarettes, a small mound guttered in the ashtray by her hip.
His attempt at movement wakes her though. Lashes pull relucantly from the curve of her cheeks and her first full breath is a deep yawn. Her second is a deeper breath, pulled into with languid riches through flaring nostrils as she breathes and focuses. "..you okay?" Spoken before she's fully awake, or even, really half-way there. Spoken as she dashes the sleep from her eyes and resettles herself against the cool smooth wall.
(james)
there's a few deep breaths
long, and slow, and steady, and that's his hand holding his insides in
least, that's what it feels like from the sudden, brilliant tidal wave of pain that swooped towards the shores of his brain from what may have once been his abdomen
(bound - it no longer seeps nor weeps)
and by the feel of the bed beneath him
it seems that he's still out at sea
(.... make....the world.... stop....)
a few more seconds before her half-asleep sigh makes it out to his little raft"The fuck did you give me....."
blearily offered in a slurred question
the way his mouth feels like cotton candy
the way his brain feels like bubblegum
(when did we go to the fair?)
he should probably ask how much
while the prescription was taking effect
.... he really doesn't remember much
her question finally grabbing enough of his attention to glean an answer"Yea." quietly, sighed, weight settling against the stilling bed "Weird dreams."
(rune)
"Xanax." Her choice of pills to pop. How many times, really, has he seen her twitch open the prescription bottle with a flick of her thumb and down two or three or four (...or more) as bar against whatever she does not wish to experience, or blanket to keep all the rest in? Though her once-too-regular consumption has slowed, still on long black nights lit by a bright full moon, when rage is a sick sure roil in her gut and tempers are a fine frayed filament, she will take them again (two or three or four or more) and find some relief from the chafing pressure of her rage. Or his. Or another's. Or something else, darker, altogether. "Your first time?"She flicks him a wry smile as she climbs painfully to her feet, baggy jeans sliding loose on her hips. Her own breath of pain is swallowed, then hissed out a moment later in something like a laugh.
Two steps, and she's at the edge of the bed, standing over him as she fits her hands to the small of her back and leans back in a sinuous stretch. Inky strands of hair fall forward across her pale cheek as the stretch reverses and she looms somewhere above him, pale as the moon swimming in darkness. "Found some Oxycontin, too. That might do more for the pain."
(james)
"Yeh..... be gentle?"quipped and slurred all in one
he's able to lift his head a little bit off the pillow
but it seems his dreads are clinging to keep him down
(okay..... I'll stay here... no arguments, even)
not that it provides that bad of a view, really
there's quite a bit of appreciation in dark gaze at that stretch
one hand suddenly taking flight to tickle fingers gently over her belly
(he doesn't know where she's hurting, yet she's taking care of him)
waiting until she's looming over him to offer a little (loopy) grinthen something about him softens
just as visable and deliberate as the slow trail of fingers to catch in the hipslung waistband of baggy jeans
there's a gentle - requesting, not suggesting - tug"Rather have you sleeping here with me instead of the wall."
(rune)
be gentle?"I never am." There's the familiar curve of her weary smile, cresting at the corners of her red mouth as she curves her hand over his over the waistband of her jeans, staying further movement. "You should know that by now."
Absently, she tucks the strands of her dark hair behind her ear and then offers him a brief, distinct shake of her head that dislodges the locks all over again. "I gave you... a pretty good dose. More than I usually take. That might explain the dreams." In the darkness, her gaze flickers over him to the empty half of the bed, then slides back to him. "Tell you what, you take some Oxycontin or Vicodin," curving her free hand on the frame of the waterbed, she bends down, low and offers him dancing little smile. "...and I won't sleep on the floor."
(james)
the familiar curve of his smile shows up again as if to chase after hers
it's not any smile, either, it's beginning to look like that grin
there might even be the slow and sure entrance of laughter into his current repetoire of sounds
fingers tightening around denim beneath the warm curve of her hand"And I adore that about you.... you know I do.... but I think right now you'd break me."
it wouldn't be the first time, honestly
he's surprised some of her marks haven't scarred
but he isn't thinking about that right now
just as he really isn't thinking about the words that tumble of out his mouth"Combined with that look, I'm not surprised."
because that probably doesn't make sense to her
(as it's obvious he's not talking about her look)
though it does to him, and apparently that's enough to suffice
his gaze wanders away, following some distant movie of memory
then peels back to suddenly find her bent down low and even offering a dancing smile"Deal." his other hand reaches, curving over the back of her neck, pulling her down just that little bit to meet him halfway in the partial sit-up that ends in soft kiss "I don't want to sleep alone."
Posted by james at May 21, 2003 12:00 AM
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