[Fic] Breath of Life
Aug. 24th, 2010 08:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeTitle: Breath of Life
Fandom: Eureka
Characters: Trevor/Charles Grant, OFC
Word Count: 1,150
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After a disappointment, Trevor turns to the last person he can confide in, and finds a release in a form he did not at all expect to be tolerated.
A/N: Written for![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo "Breathplay" Spoilers for Eureka 4x7 Stoned
He could understand that Allison had rejected his advances, politely, gently. He could even understand why. Carter wasn't a bad man, for all that he had tried to demonize the sheriff in his own mind, he was an honorable and kind person. Nor was he in any way unsuitable as far as Allison's current family went; certainly Kevin seemed to look up to the man. And Carter had had the field before him, he couldn't complain. May the better man win, indeed.
Telling himself all of these things did not make Grant any easier with Allison's decision.
He went to see the only person he could talk to about such things, the only person who seemed to both be trustworthy and who knew his secret, and who didn't seem especially close to Allison. The trust Allison placed in her seemed to be more based on her reputation as a doctor than by any close personal friendship between the women. That was good; that was what he wanted right now. Somewhere he could go to ease this nagging dissatisfaction in him, bordering on rage. It made him uncomfortable, to say the very least.
"Come in." She took one look at him and let him into her home, propriety be damned. No, that wasn't fair, she'd invited him in before and it wasn't as though he was a stranger. He hoped. "You missed our last session."
"Yes, well…" A belligerent part of him spoke up before his better judgment could restrain it. "I'm cancelling the rest of our sessions. I think Allison might have been being a little over-cautious."
"A little over-cautious."
He looked at her. As though he could convince her with his gaze, although a second or two later he realized that imposing his temper upon her was not the best way to convince her he was handling this change well and he stopped. Smiled.
"There isn't anything that will help me adjust any faster. There's nothing that can be done for me; I can't be returned to my own time. I might as well make the best of it. The rest is just… details."
"The devil's in the details," she told him, smiling back with a sad tinge to her eyes that he didn't entirely understand. Something familiar nagged at him about the way she was looking at him, maybe with pity, with sympathy at least, but he couldn't place it. It did make him want to touch her in some way, either to wipe the sadness from her face or throttle her for pitying him.
His fingertips touched her face along the arch of her cheekbone, palm closing against skin last of all. She turned her face into his hand, which he didn't expect, and closed her eyes. Hiding her face in his hand. It made him frustrated with her, and want to see her face, so he stepped closer and turned her to look at him in the hopes that she'd open her eyes and show him something that made sense.
She didn't. He still didn't understand what he saw in her eyes but it was intense enough to drown in and he found himself stepping forward and kissing her out of confusion and too many reactions to too many things in the last several days. Anger, frustration with Allison. Frustration and surliness with her, because she was trying to see through him. Desire, longing. It had been far too long since he'd been with a woman, any woman. Even beneath that the desire to be touched, to be loved. To make a connection with someone. It was hard when he didn't feel particularly close to anyone but Henry and Allison, and he wouldn't begrudge Henry the chance to get to know his new wife. Harder still when there were things he couldn't tell anyone, not even his real name.
She knew his real name. She preferred it, she'd said, at their first meeting when Allison had introduced them. "Say my name," he found himself whispering, wanting to hear the syllables on her lips. To see her make the shape of them. Allison had had beautiful lips, making beautiful shapes. He hadn't gotten a chance to even kiss her.
"What…" she asked, and his hand slid down to her throat and closed around it, choking her off with a gasp. His thumb pressed into the side of her throat, feeling her pulse. Her eyes widened, white around deep caramel brown. The look was heady, as, yes, was the shape of her lips when she gasped or moaned his name through what little air she had left. "Please…"
He let her breathe again.
There was no transition in his mind from man to what he would have called a monster had anyone been around him at the time. His urges were as they were. It was part of the reason why it had been so long since he'd been with a woman, he knew his temperament. He didn't want to inflict that on anyone. And he had his work, what would have been the Einstein-Grant bridge, and that had been satisfying enough for quite some time.
But this was control, direct control over life and death, and hearing the breath rattle out of her throat was intoxicating, more so than the scent of a woman's body or the taste of her or anything. Having that kind of control.
He still had his hand around her throat and she was still, and his body thrilled to feel her pulse jump as his eyes focused on her face again. "Tristan, wasn't it? Just nod," he added.
She nodded.
For a moment, he wanted to ask her what she did if she couldn't breathe. If she couldn't breathe she couldn't speak, and could she trust him when she couldn't speak? He didn't ask, so she couldn't answer. If she truly wanted to, no doubt she could throw him off, anyway. He kept his hand around her throat as he took her up to bed, pushed her down on the mattress, her hair fanning out over the pillow in varying shades of cream and gold. He sat on her hips and touched her, listening to the shift in her voice every time he squeezed.
By the end of it, he knew she enjoyed it just as much as he did. He wondered, a little, what that said about her and if it was anything she wanted him to know. He also wondered if she'd wanted it or gone along with something she ordinarily would have enjoyed because she didn't dare risk turning him down. He'd never know, now.
Somehow, this made him sit up and turn away from her to hide the emotions laid starkly on his face, when all the grieving and raging over Allison hadn't done so. She didn't chase after him, but lay on the bed instead, recovering quietly.
Fandom: Eureka
Characters: Trevor/Charles Grant, OFC
Word Count: 1,150
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After a disappointment, Trevor turns to the last person he can confide in, and finds a release in a form he did not at all expect to be tolerated.
A/N: Written for
kink_bingo "Breathplay" Spoilers for Eureka 4x7 StonedHe could understand that Allison had rejected his advances, politely, gently. He could even understand why. Carter wasn't a bad man, for all that he had tried to demonize the sheriff in his own mind, he was an honorable and kind person. Nor was he in any way unsuitable as far as Allison's current family went; certainly Kevin seemed to look up to the man. And Carter had had the field before him, he couldn't complain. May the better man win, indeed.
Telling himself all of these things did not make Grant any easier with Allison's decision.
He went to see the only person he could talk to about such things, the only person who seemed to both be trustworthy and who knew his secret, and who didn't seem especially close to Allison. The trust Allison placed in her seemed to be more based on her reputation as a doctor than by any close personal friendship between the women. That was good; that was what he wanted right now. Somewhere he could go to ease this nagging dissatisfaction in him, bordering on rage. It made him uncomfortable, to say the very least.
"Come in." She took one look at him and let him into her home, propriety be damned. No, that wasn't fair, she'd invited him in before and it wasn't as though he was a stranger. He hoped. "You missed our last session."
"Yes, well…" A belligerent part of him spoke up before his better judgment could restrain it. "I'm cancelling the rest of our sessions. I think Allison might have been being a little over-cautious."
"A little over-cautious."
He looked at her. As though he could convince her with his gaze, although a second or two later he realized that imposing his temper upon her was not the best way to convince her he was handling this change well and he stopped. Smiled.
"There isn't anything that will help me adjust any faster. There's nothing that can be done for me; I can't be returned to my own time. I might as well make the best of it. The rest is just… details."
"The devil's in the details," she told him, smiling back with a sad tinge to her eyes that he didn't entirely understand. Something familiar nagged at him about the way she was looking at him, maybe with pity, with sympathy at least, but he couldn't place it. It did make him want to touch her in some way, either to wipe the sadness from her face or throttle her for pitying him.
His fingertips touched her face along the arch of her cheekbone, palm closing against skin last of all. She turned her face into his hand, which he didn't expect, and closed her eyes. Hiding her face in his hand. It made him frustrated with her, and want to see her face, so he stepped closer and turned her to look at him in the hopes that she'd open her eyes and show him something that made sense.
She didn't. He still didn't understand what he saw in her eyes but it was intense enough to drown in and he found himself stepping forward and kissing her out of confusion and too many reactions to too many things in the last several days. Anger, frustration with Allison. Frustration and surliness with her, because she was trying to see through him. Desire, longing. It had been far too long since he'd been with a woman, any woman. Even beneath that the desire to be touched, to be loved. To make a connection with someone. It was hard when he didn't feel particularly close to anyone but Henry and Allison, and he wouldn't begrudge Henry the chance to get to know his new wife. Harder still when there were things he couldn't tell anyone, not even his real name.
She knew his real name. She preferred it, she'd said, at their first meeting when Allison had introduced them. "Say my name," he found himself whispering, wanting to hear the syllables on her lips. To see her make the shape of them. Allison had had beautiful lips, making beautiful shapes. He hadn't gotten a chance to even kiss her.
"What…" she asked, and his hand slid down to her throat and closed around it, choking her off with a gasp. His thumb pressed into the side of her throat, feeling her pulse. Her eyes widened, white around deep caramel brown. The look was heady, as, yes, was the shape of her lips when she gasped or moaned his name through what little air she had left. "Please…"
He let her breathe again.
There was no transition in his mind from man to what he would have called a monster had anyone been around him at the time. His urges were as they were. It was part of the reason why it had been so long since he'd been with a woman, he knew his temperament. He didn't want to inflict that on anyone. And he had his work, what would have been the Einstein-Grant bridge, and that had been satisfying enough for quite some time.
But this was control, direct control over life and death, and hearing the breath rattle out of her throat was intoxicating, more so than the scent of a woman's body or the taste of her or anything. Having that kind of control.
He still had his hand around her throat and she was still, and his body thrilled to feel her pulse jump as his eyes focused on her face again. "Tristan, wasn't it? Just nod," he added.
She nodded.
For a moment, he wanted to ask her what she did if she couldn't breathe. If she couldn't breathe she couldn't speak, and could she trust him when she couldn't speak? He didn't ask, so she couldn't answer. If she truly wanted to, no doubt she could throw him off, anyway. He kept his hand around her throat as he took her up to bed, pushed her down on the mattress, her hair fanning out over the pillow in varying shades of cream and gold. He sat on her hips and touched her, listening to the shift in her voice every time he squeezed.
By the end of it, he knew she enjoyed it just as much as he did. He wondered, a little, what that said about her and if it was anything she wanted him to know. He also wondered if she'd wanted it or gone along with something she ordinarily would have enjoyed because she didn't dare risk turning him down. He'd never know, now.
Somehow, this made him sit up and turn away from her to hide the emotions laid starkly on his face, when all the grieving and raging over Allison hadn't done so. She didn't chase after him, but lay on the bed instead, recovering quietly.