A/N: Written 6-1-08 for The Host by Stephenie Meyer. I had actually forogtten that I wrote this until last night when I stumbled across it. It's very rough and I can see how different my style is between then and now. Totally unbetaed.

Room to Breathe, no pairing, PG13 to R-ish
Title: Room to Breathe
Rating: PG-13 to R
Character(s)/Pairing(s): you choose!
Story type: drabble, I guess?
Author's Notes: I have been unsure about posting this for a while. Mainly because I couldn't decide what "pairing" I wanted it to be and if I wanted to turn it into something longer. Seeing as I'm impatient, I'm posting now.


He reaches down, caressing her side and she shivers, chill bumps covering her torso. One long finger trails slowly along the elastic waist band of her panties, just under the edge of her pants, gently along her hip bone. He buries his face into her neck, breathing deeply before flicking his tongue out to taste her skin. She gasps and a deep rumbling sound, half groan, half laughter escapes his throat while his hand inches lower, gripping her panties just on top of her hip, bunching them up in a tight fist. It's unbearable and exquisite all at the same time and she has a vague thought of how he's going to rip them away from her body without even realizing it.

He can't bring himself to go further but God he wants to. He wants to slip his hand farther, to feel the warmth, to sink his fingers into the wetness between her legs that he knows will be there. Her breathing is ragged and surrounded by moans and it turns him on so completely that he doesn't think that he'll ever feel this way again.

"We can't. We. Can't. I want to," he sighs deeply. "But we have to stop," he pushes himself away, giving both of them room to breathe.