TITLE: Chapter Eight

PAIRING: August/Christine

CHARACTERS: August, Christine Hollis

GENRE: Romance, Dark

RATING: M

SUMMARY: A love that was never meant to be…

WORD COUNT: 1436

WARNINGS: Sexual themes

SPOILERS: Episode 2.08 "August"

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

DISCLAIMER:


They've been running for five years, always looking back over their shoulders for the ones seeking them out. At the moment they're living in small town on the border of Alaska and Canada, in a one-room tourist's cabin. Her hair is not longer red and straight, but returned to her wavy brown and it's shoulder length. He no longer feels any desire from her to seek a life outside of the one the have on the run, not surrender but acceptance. He takes her with him when he goes to watch others, enjoying her company, showing her how and what to document. Her notebook isn't as detailed as his new one, but she's been quick to learn and understand why he is compelled to observe.

After all this time together, the ability to read her emotions is even stronger, the connexion between them more intense. Being with her is the same as being by fire—the closer he gets, the more powerful her emotions imbue him. Unlike the rest of his long and unusual life, August finds himself very happy living with another being. He's still in the habit of doing things on his own but her closeness is welcome. Sometimes she'll move her body near his as he washes the dishes, other times her arm will go over the back of his section of the couch while he reads the newspaper, and on occasion she'll touch her leg to his as they eat at the local diner; he can tell she's going out of her way to initiate physical contact with him—he's forgotten how her kind crave attention by touching and being touched.

As of late, she says the blankets aren't enough to keep her warm in bed. The thoughts and emotions he can feel within her speak the truth, though there is still something more that seems to August as if she's trying to hide something from him. He offers hot water bottles, moving her bed closer to the fireplace, and thicker long johns, but she says that's not what she needs.

Finally one evening when the wind is howling around the little cabin, she shows him what she wants, climbing into his bed under the thin sheets. I want to be close, she breaths into his ear as he sits in his trousers and crisp white button-up against the headboard. He suddenly finds himself unsure what to do as she tugs at him to join her, so he does what she wants and joins her under the sheets, lying down with her on the small bed.

She moves onto her side and he mimics the action so that they're facing one another. You're so warm, she murmurs, like the sun. He brushes the braid of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. I'm nothing like the sun…you're like the sun, he replies suddenly wanting her so close to him that he burns. She seems to realise this and moves up against him, making it possible for him to treasure her in his arms. He wants to tell her anything and everything but she moves her head closer to his and presses her lips against his. He watches her eyes close…and a different, heightened form of the way he feels for her fills him.

Oh, he breathes when she finally pulls away, her eyes opening once more. She smiles and repeats the action, one of her hands moving up to rest on the back of his neck and while he isn't used to being touched on such a vulnerable part of the body, he can tell this is something to do with trust and he has always trusted her. Her body moves closer to his and the sensation of their forms together makes her happy, something he feels through her.

She uses one of her small hands to push on his shoulder, causing him to lie on his back and she moves around a bit under the sheets before she lifts herself up and straddles him.

She's naked from the waist down.

Completely still, he watches in utter fascination as her eyes lock onto his as she begins to remove the shirt she's wearing, throwing it off onto the floor. He's tempted to fold it for her because he doesn't like wrinkles but this is the first time he's ever seen her like this and he doesn't want to miss a second of it. His hands suddenly itch to touch her, to see if this is all real and as if she knows what he's thinking, her hands find his and pull them up to touch her face and her neck, directing them across her clavicle and then—her body arches slightly and experimenting, he repeats the movements to get the same reaction.

Her hands guide him in what she wants and soon he's able improvise though her hands still rest upon his. She's warm and not just physically; her aura glows from red to yellow to the edges of white, the corresponding colour for heat at its hottest setting.

She leans forward to press her lips to his once more and while it's quickly becoming a wonderfully exhilarating experience, he is not prepared for where she puts his hand next. He'd never considered that as a place to touch but now her cheeks are completely flushed and her lips are swollen pink; his fingers curl and push up and she gasps, her eyes widening slightly as her hands tighten slightly around his wrist. He thinks she wants him to stop, but she whispers, No don't stop. It feels so good.

He knows that it feels good—he's experiencing it, too. His finger moves again, coaxing the reaction from her once more and again he feels her desire for more. He can't stop watching the way her own hands touch her body, understanding it far better than he does. The way she's expressing her affection is incredibly alien to him, but he doesn't resist, knowing that she wouldn't request anything that didn't make her happy and of course it makes him happy because theirs is an endless cycle of existing off one another's emotions.

Seconds become minutes and they slowly approach the one hour mark. Her facial expressions convey potential pain and distress, but the emotions she's feeling are the complete opposite and this confuses him. He decides to simply close his eyes and experience what she's enjoying. Soon her lips have returned to his and his eyes shoot open as she moans into his mouth, causing him to inhale sharply. She feels like a raw current of electricity and he can't even begin to fathom why anyone would want to feel this kind of—

The waves of pleasure emanating through her reverberate through him, more intense than anything he's ever imagined, almost to point of being unbearable. He wants to pull away—he never wants to leave—this is something he doesn't know—listen to her moan—how could anyone want something so alarming—he can feel she's never shared this with anyone else—she wants this—she wants this—she wants me

He cries out in shock and fear as she screams out in satisfaction, calling out his name over and over August August AugustAugustAugustAUGUST! He wonders if she's reaffirming that he's here with her and he frantically grabs her hand, to make sure he's still here, too.

Christine.

Christine.

Christine.

Once her somewhat violent reaction begins to subside into a more peaceful rocking motion, she looks down at him and he finds himself transfixed with the deep brown of her eyes. Her lips curl into a happy smile as her eyes take him in. He watches in breathless wonder as she moans again, her eyes rolling upwards as her lashes flutter briefly—his hand is withdrawing and he wipes the stickiness onto the bedsheets. She gives a content sigh and lays down on top of him, her weight surprisingly pleasant.

Her lips rest against his left ear, the movement of her soft skin feather light against his electrified nerves. Why me? He strokes the back of her head, twisting his fingers through the shoulder length brown locks. Because you are important, he explains, matching his breathing with hers. Why? she asks as the wind howls outside the cabin. He doesn't understand a lot of things about her world and sometimes he doesn't understand everything in his, but there has been one constant throughout everything. He thinks about how brave she is and how that makes him feel, something he's not used to doing.

When he finally speaks, his words are soft but certain. Because I love you.