Title: Almost

Author: Bree

Rating: G/PG

Pairing: Justin/Iris

Thick, ugly welts criss crossed like gingham over Justin's back, flaring into a new and painful existence against the rough fabric of the cassock at each shift of the muscles in his back, serving as a continues reminder of temptations which must be resisted.

Temptations such as the one currently spread out on the couch, working a needle-point sampler.

Justin studied from the corner of his eye the continuous flowing movements of her hands, working the needle and thread to form tiny, intricate leaves, apples and roof tiles in the picturesque country scene forming on the soft canvas before shifting down the smooth pink fabric of her nightgown and settling on the crumpled series of folds just above her knees.

Lean muscles built from years of hard work and prayer rhythmically shift as she absent-mindedly bob's her foot to the beat of some song playing inside her head.

His eyes glide slowly over the delicate play of muscle in her

ankles, calves, stopping briefly to study the gentle flex at the knees

before continuing upward to her thighs, just barely visible under the

bunched material.

Briefly mesmerized by the rhythmic play of muscle it takes a moment for Justin to realize that the gentle bobbing of her foot has stopped and he quickly slides his gaze upward to lock with her clear blue eyes.

Small lines crinkle at the corners as the delicate, so-familiar, smile she gets when dithering over him washes across her tranquil features.

"Did you enjoy your supper?" She asks, tilting her head slightly while

looking at him and a loose red curl falls to settle against the gentle slope of her collarbone.

"Yes." Justin replies after a brief moment, smiling back at her.

"Are you still hungry? There's some pie left." Her mouth tilts upward

another fraction at one side and a delicate line curves softly along her cheek.

"Yes, thank you." Justin reply's and watches the gentle auburn framed curve of her neck and shoulder as she places her unfinished needle-point on the couch before his gaze travels once again to the thin material of her nightgown in time to see her stand and the thin material to drop down, caressing her legs, before settling at her calves.

As she brushes past his chair Justin's neck instinctively crane's to the side and the movement rips forth fresh blood and new pain from the slowly healing welt's on his back. The pain is almost enough to stop him from leaning forward the few more inches necessary to watch the graceful movement of her legs and gentle sway of her bottom as she retreats into the kitchen.

Almost.