I would love to write, but I’m too tired. so I’m going to go to bed and soak in someone else’s writing 😀 Gotta love fan fiction, sharing the joy 😀

Okay, I wrote the above, then switched windows and wrote the below. I have no idea how my muse works, I’m just along for the ride ::headdesk:: @vegetacide and @the-lady-razorsharp may have something to do with it. ::eyes them suspiciously::

Rating heading in the Mature direction.

From here.

She listened to his heart. The slow thump of life with its accompaniment of breath moving in and out.

He often got like this after a mission gone bad. He seemed to need to reconnect with the planet, commiserate with the waves far below, lose the pain to the rocks beneath his feet. She often left him there, staring out to sea, knowing there was nothing she could give him. Knowing that he needed these moments to himself.

It didn’t stop her from worrying about him. But that was part of loving Virgil Tracy. It came with the territory.

The rain was warm, but she shivered against him, and it wasn’t long before he made the sacrifice to take her inside. She would never admit to manipulating him like this, but she feared that if she didn’t, he might stay out here and never come in.

Years of rescuing had taken their toll. He was only in his mid-thirties, yet he seemed so much older. No grey hair struck that dark, almost black hair, but looking into his eyes, into that deep chocolate, in their depths lay memories that could not be forgotten, no matter how hard they tried.

She led him across the small bridge that spanned a ragged crevice in the rock, back to the welcoming yellow light of their little villa house. Perched on the edge of the ocean, on the far side of the mountain that hid his beloved ‘bird on Tracy Island, their little house was secluded and private. It did, of course, support all the technology of International Rescue, built into the walls and the floor boards, including a couple of chutes that threw them both where they needed to be the moment a call came through, but you wouldn’t know it for looking at it. It had become Tracy tradition to be more than you appeared to be.

Drawing him through the front sliding door and into the main living room, she turned back to him, her hands reaching for his face, fingers clutching his hair, drawing him down for a kiss.

He obliged, his lips soft against hers. His tongue touching, wet, lingering.

His arms wrapped around her, his body so large against her slim figure, to be strong and comforting. She leant into his damp warmth.

“We need to get you dry.”

He mumbled, pulling her in closer, kissing her once again, obviously occupied and reluctant to be interrupted.

“C’mon, beautiful.” She smiled against his lips and reached around him to tug at his t-shirt.

With a sigh and a slight smile, he capitulated and half raised his hands above his head as she pulled at his shirt, ultimately bending at the waist so her height could complete the task of dragging the sodden material from his skin.

It hit the floor with a wet slap.

Free of the sodden fabric he drew her in again, kissing her brow, her cheekbone, and once again, her mouth.

Her hands rested on his chest, fingertips caught in a memory scored into his skin.

Virgil was a well-built man. He lived a life that saw him maintaining a peak fitness level and she was ever grateful for the eye candy it provided. But that same life risked itself day in and day out, and sometimes it taunted her and left marks on his beautiful skin.

Her fingers traced the rock fall in Chile, before skipping to the pod crash in Oklahoma, reaching around his back she knew she would encounter the bullet wound in his shoulder and the road rash from Guatemala. Small nicks and burns, there were many, but for each one there had been a life saved at the risk of his own.

Well, except the bullet wound, she had attended to that cause with severe finality.

God, she loved him.

His hands were wandering and it wasn’t long before they found the hem of her shirt and began to tug.

She smiled, reaching up around his neck, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I love you.”

The air was cool on her wet skin as his warm hands pulled her t-shirt from her body.

-o-o-o-

TBC?

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