tanaquiljall (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tanaquiljall) wrote2009-05-24 11:27 pm
tanaquiljall) wrote2009-05-24 11:27 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Jericho - Scars - Adult
Title: Scars
Fandom: Jericho
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Graphic sex scenes
Words: 1720
Summary: Jake still hasn't quite gotten used to waking up next to Heather. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
scribblesinink's birthday.
Disclaimer: These stories are based on the Junction Entertainment/Fixed Mark Productions/CBS Paramount Television series Jericho. They were written for entertainment only; the author does not profit from them nor was any infringement of copyright intended.
Author's Note: This story is part of Awesome!Jakeverse, the shared post-season 2 verse being written by Scribbler (scribblesinink) and Tanaqui (tanaquific). Thanks to elena_tiriel and sgafan for the beta.
oOo
Jake drifted up from deep sleep, dimly aware of a warm presence next to him. Opening his eyes, he found Heather watching him, her head propped on one arm. She smiled at him.
"Hey," he said softly, freeing a hand from the tangle of sheets so he could gently stroke her shoulder.
"Hey, yourself." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. He tightened his grip on her to keep her close, and returned the kiss with interest.
When she pulled away, she went back to scrutinizing him. He wondered how long she'd been looking at him, and what she'd learned.
"You should have woken me." He yawned.
She shook her head. "It was nice to see you so peaceful." The corner of her mouth twitched. "Normally I don't get a chance to study you much."
He squirmed a little under her gaze. "And what did you find out?" He hoped to God he didn't talk in his sleep, or drool, or do something else equally embarrassing.
"Well, I was wondering, for instance...." She traced a fingertip along a faint line that crossed Jake's right temple."Was this from the car crash the day of the attacks?"
He laughed and caught her hand. "No. That's from when we got run off the road in Stanley's truck. The one from the car crash is on the other side." He turned his head so she could see.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the scar. He nuzzled her neck, breathing in her scent. Letting her hand drop, he slipped his arm around her waist to draw her closer.
"If you hadn't crashed...," she murmured against his skin.
"I would never have met you," he whispered back.
She pulled away a little so she could meet his gaze. "I know you got this in the crash as well." She let her free hand drop to rest on his stomach, and then trailed her fingers lower, down his thigh, as if seeking the scar on his left leg.
He stirred and hardened as her hand brushed against him. Not that he wasn't more than half-ready already, because waking to find Heather at his side was still a kind of miracle. He hadn't yet got past experiencing that moment of disorientation when he wondered if it was real—or merely one of the fantasies with which he'd tormented himself after he'd at last realized what he wanted, and when he'd feared he'd lost it forever.
The glint in her eyes suggested she knew exactly what response she was provoking. With a growl, he ran his palm up her back and drew her tightly against him, seeking out her lips for a deep, passionate kiss. She slid her hand up between them and grasped him, and he let out a low groan.
Drawing back a little so that they could share the gentle, teasing kisses he knew she liked, he eased his hips away from her to allow her more room to caress him—and to let him slip his own hand between her thighs. His fingertips slid between her warm moist folds, seeking out where she liked to be touched, brushing over her lightly but deliberately. Gradually he felt her relax into his caresses, one kind of tension flowing out of her as another began to take hold.
Her breathing quickened and became shallow, as he urged her quietly and relentlessly towards climax. Her hand fluttered on him and lost its rhythm, but he didn't care; time enough for that later. Time now to revel in the small mewling sounds she began to make that told him she was riding the waves of passion building within her. A moment later, she threw back her head, pulling her mouth away from his, but that was good too, for now he could watch as, eyes closed, she let out tiny gasps, containing the surging sensations within her as he drew her on. Then, suddenly she was bucking under his hand, calling out his name, the word half lost in a wordless moan of pleasure as her climax coursed through her.
Spent and contented, she fell back against him. He gave her a moment to gather herself, and then tilted her face up from where she'd buried it against his shoulder. "Hey." He kissed her gently, savoring the taste of her.
"Thank you." She reached up and smoothed back a lock of hair from his face with a languid hand. When they'd first made love, she'd seemed a little surprised that he cared at all that she came. Which probably said a lot about the kind of jerks to be found in the rest of Kansas, but he wasn't complaining. And gradually she'd learned to trust that he'd really meant what he said when he'd told her making her feel good did more for him than almost anything else they did together. Which was perhaps why she always made sure he knew how much she appreciated it.
Not that other things didn't make his breath catch. Like now, when she ran her palm down his arm and let it rest on his thigh, a small, embarrassed laugh escaping her.
"I think I was distracted...." Her expression turned mischievous as she once more curved her hand around him and began to stroke him.
He gazed down at her, reveling in the sight of her as he grew hard under her touch. He knew she still lacked confidence, afraid she might do something wrong. And sometimes they were clumsy together, still working out what made each other tick. But those could be the best times, when they'd grow closer, laughing over their mistakes and holding each other tightly. At other times, she'd surprised him by doing things that, even in more than ten years with Emily, he'd never known could excite him. But, truth be told, even the most mundane caress from her was electric....
Never mind when she was touching him like she was now. He joined his hand to hers, driving the pace of her movements and wrapping her fingers more tightly around him, until it was his turn to squeeze his eyes shut and cry out her name, and then sink back against her.
Still with his eyes closed, he groped to pull her closer, burying his face in her shoulder, wanting to lose himself in the feel and scent of her. She stroked his hair, chuckling softly and pressing herself against him as if understanding what he needed. After a moment, he became more aware of his surroundings again, and that there was a squelchy wetness between them. Reluctantly, he drew away from her and reached for tissues from the nightstand, handing one to her so she could clean herself where he'd come against her.
A little less sticky, they settled back against each other, his head pillowed on her shoulder. She began gently stroking his skin, her fingers pausing from time to time. He knew where, and he wasn't surprised when she murmured at last, dropping a kiss in his hair, "So many scars."
His only answer was to tighten his arms around her.
"This one?" Her fingertips drifted over a patch of puckered skin at the top of his hip.
"Iraq. Shrapnel from an IED," he admitted reluctantly. She'd never asked about what he'd done in the five years he'd been away from Jericho, never pressed him for more details than had become commonly known around town. Not, he knew, because she was incurious or unwilling to listen. But because it was his to tell.
One day he'd tell her.
"And this?" She stroked a long puckered seam running across his shoulder blade.
He laughed, rocking the bed. "That one? I got that messing about at the top of a fruit-picking ladder in the Richmonds' orchard when I was twelve." He turned his face a little so he could drop a kiss on her collarbone. "Absolutely nothing heroic about that one at all, except...." He stopped, suddenly aware that it maybe wasn't the right occasion for that story. When he tipped his head back to meet her gaze, she gave him that look, the one that said he wasn't fooling her for a minute. He shrugged and grinned in embarrassment. "I seem to remember I was trying to impress a certain Emily Sullivan."
She laughed, and he discovered the name held no power for either of them any more. Emily was part of his history, just as Edward was part of hers. But they were together now, here in each other's arms.
He lifted his hand and smoothed her hair back from her face. "What about you? You got any interesting scars?" He grinned at her. "I don't remember seeing any, but maybe I should check...."
She shook her head slightly. "Not physical ones, no." Her tone was more serious than he'd expected. He raised an eyebrow, unsure what the shift from playful to somber signified, and she shrugged slightly. "Everybody has scars, Jake. You just can't always see them."
He nodded. "I caused a few here." He laid a hand over her heart.
"Those have healed up." She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly.
He kissed her back, burying his hand in her hair. Let him have years to make up for the pain he'd caused her. Years to make up for being an idiot who'd been too stupid to see what was right in front of him....
When they drew apart, she gave him a sad smile. "The ones here," she touched her fingers to her right temple, "and here," she laid her palm on his forehead, "are harder to get over."
He could guess some of what troubled her. She'd told him a little about what had happened to her in New Bern, and with Constantino. Enough for him to know there was more. But he hadn't pressed her. That was hers to tell.
Instead, he drew her down for another kiss, gentle at first and then deeper, while he slid his hand round and cupped her breast, softly stroking her with his thumb. She pulled him closer, her hand on his butt, sending shivers through him as her fingertips caressed him.
Being together didn't solve everything. The bad things had still happened, and the sore places in their minds that they were afraid to touch wouldn't stop hurting just because they shared this, just because they'd found each other and found that they could be happy again. But it helped. Oh, it helped!
Fandom: Jericho
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Graphic sex scenes
Words: 1720
Summary: Jake still hasn't quite gotten used to waking up next to Heather. Written for
scribblesinink's birthday.Disclaimer: These stories are based on the Junction Entertainment/Fixed Mark Productions/CBS Paramount Television series Jericho. They were written for entertainment only; the author does not profit from them nor was any infringement of copyright intended.
Author's Note: This story is part of Awesome!Jakeverse, the shared post-season 2 verse being written by Scribbler (
scribblesinink) and Tanaqui (tanaquific). Thanks to elena_tiriel and sgafan for the beta.Jake drifted up from deep sleep, dimly aware of a warm presence next to him. Opening his eyes, he found Heather watching him, her head propped on one arm. She smiled at him.
"Hey," he said softly, freeing a hand from the tangle of sheets so he could gently stroke her shoulder.
"Hey, yourself." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. He tightened his grip on her to keep her close, and returned the kiss with interest.
When she pulled away, she went back to scrutinizing him. He wondered how long she'd been looking at him, and what she'd learned.
"You should have woken me." He yawned.
She shook her head. "It was nice to see you so peaceful." The corner of her mouth twitched. "Normally I don't get a chance to study you much."
He squirmed a little under her gaze. "And what did you find out?" He hoped to God he didn't talk in his sleep, or drool, or do something else equally embarrassing.
"Well, I was wondering, for instance...." She traced a fingertip along a faint line that crossed Jake's right temple."Was this from the car crash the day of the attacks?"
He laughed and caught her hand. "No. That's from when we got run off the road in Stanley's truck. The one from the car crash is on the other side." He turned his head so she could see.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the scar. He nuzzled her neck, breathing in her scent. Letting her hand drop, he slipped his arm around her waist to draw her closer.
"If you hadn't crashed...," she murmured against his skin.
"I would never have met you," he whispered back.
She pulled away a little so she could meet his gaze. "I know you got this in the crash as well." She let her free hand drop to rest on his stomach, and then trailed her fingers lower, down his thigh, as if seeking the scar on his left leg.
He stirred and hardened as her hand brushed against him. Not that he wasn't more than half-ready already, because waking to find Heather at his side was still a kind of miracle. He hadn't yet got past experiencing that moment of disorientation when he wondered if it was real—or merely one of the fantasies with which he'd tormented himself after he'd at last realized what he wanted, and when he'd feared he'd lost it forever.
The glint in her eyes suggested she knew exactly what response she was provoking. With a growl, he ran his palm up her back and drew her tightly against him, seeking out her lips for a deep, passionate kiss. She slid her hand up between them and grasped him, and he let out a low groan.
Drawing back a little so that they could share the gentle, teasing kisses he knew she liked, he eased his hips away from her to allow her more room to caress him—and to let him slip his own hand between her thighs. His fingertips slid between her warm moist folds, seeking out where she liked to be touched, brushing over her lightly but deliberately. Gradually he felt her relax into his caresses, one kind of tension flowing out of her as another began to take hold.
Her breathing quickened and became shallow, as he urged her quietly and relentlessly towards climax. Her hand fluttered on him and lost its rhythm, but he didn't care; time enough for that later. Time now to revel in the small mewling sounds she began to make that told him she was riding the waves of passion building within her. A moment later, she threw back her head, pulling her mouth away from his, but that was good too, for now he could watch as, eyes closed, she let out tiny gasps, containing the surging sensations within her as he drew her on. Then, suddenly she was bucking under his hand, calling out his name, the word half lost in a wordless moan of pleasure as her climax coursed through her.
Spent and contented, she fell back against him. He gave her a moment to gather herself, and then tilted her face up from where she'd buried it against his shoulder. "Hey." He kissed her gently, savoring the taste of her.
"Thank you." She reached up and smoothed back a lock of hair from his face with a languid hand. When they'd first made love, she'd seemed a little surprised that he cared at all that she came. Which probably said a lot about the kind of jerks to be found in the rest of Kansas, but he wasn't complaining. And gradually she'd learned to trust that he'd really meant what he said when he'd told her making her feel good did more for him than almost anything else they did together. Which was perhaps why she always made sure he knew how much she appreciated it.
Not that other things didn't make his breath catch. Like now, when she ran her palm down his arm and let it rest on his thigh, a small, embarrassed laugh escaping her.
"I think I was distracted...." Her expression turned mischievous as she once more curved her hand around him and began to stroke him.
He gazed down at her, reveling in the sight of her as he grew hard under her touch. He knew she still lacked confidence, afraid she might do something wrong. And sometimes they were clumsy together, still working out what made each other tick. But those could be the best times, when they'd grow closer, laughing over their mistakes and holding each other tightly. At other times, she'd surprised him by doing things that, even in more than ten years with Emily, he'd never known could excite him. But, truth be told, even the most mundane caress from her was electric....
Never mind when she was touching him like she was now. He joined his hand to hers, driving the pace of her movements and wrapping her fingers more tightly around him, until it was his turn to squeeze his eyes shut and cry out her name, and then sink back against her.
Still with his eyes closed, he groped to pull her closer, burying his face in her shoulder, wanting to lose himself in the feel and scent of her. She stroked his hair, chuckling softly and pressing herself against him as if understanding what he needed. After a moment, he became more aware of his surroundings again, and that there was a squelchy wetness between them. Reluctantly, he drew away from her and reached for tissues from the nightstand, handing one to her so she could clean herself where he'd come against her.
A little less sticky, they settled back against each other, his head pillowed on her shoulder. She began gently stroking his skin, her fingers pausing from time to time. He knew where, and he wasn't surprised when she murmured at last, dropping a kiss in his hair, "So many scars."
His only answer was to tighten his arms around her.
"This one?" Her fingertips drifted over a patch of puckered skin at the top of his hip.
"Iraq. Shrapnel from an IED," he admitted reluctantly. She'd never asked about what he'd done in the five years he'd been away from Jericho, never pressed him for more details than had become commonly known around town. Not, he knew, because she was incurious or unwilling to listen. But because it was his to tell.
One day he'd tell her.
"And this?" She stroked a long puckered seam running across his shoulder blade.
He laughed, rocking the bed. "That one? I got that messing about at the top of a fruit-picking ladder in the Richmonds' orchard when I was twelve." He turned his face a little so he could drop a kiss on her collarbone. "Absolutely nothing heroic about that one at all, except...." He stopped, suddenly aware that it maybe wasn't the right occasion for that story. When he tipped his head back to meet her gaze, she gave him that look, the one that said he wasn't fooling her for a minute. He shrugged and grinned in embarrassment. "I seem to remember I was trying to impress a certain Emily Sullivan."
She laughed, and he discovered the name held no power for either of them any more. Emily was part of his history, just as Edward was part of hers. But they were together now, here in each other's arms.
He lifted his hand and smoothed her hair back from her face. "What about you? You got any interesting scars?" He grinned at her. "I don't remember seeing any, but maybe I should check...."
She shook her head slightly. "Not physical ones, no." Her tone was more serious than he'd expected. He raised an eyebrow, unsure what the shift from playful to somber signified, and she shrugged slightly. "Everybody has scars, Jake. You just can't always see them."
He nodded. "I caused a few here." He laid a hand over her heart.
"Those have healed up." She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly.
He kissed her back, burying his hand in her hair. Let him have years to make up for the pain he'd caused her. Years to make up for being an idiot who'd been too stupid to see what was right in front of him....
When they drew apart, she gave him a sad smile. "The ones here," she touched her fingers to her right temple, "and here," she laid her palm on his forehead, "are harder to get over."
He could guess some of what troubled her. She'd told him a little about what had happened to her in New Bern, and with Constantino. Enough for him to know there was more. But he hadn't pressed her. That was hers to tell.
Instead, he drew her down for another kiss, gentle at first and then deeper, while he slid his hand round and cupped her breast, softly stroking her with his thumb. She pulled him closer, her hand on his butt, sending shivers through him as her fingertips caressed him.
Being together didn't solve everything. The bad things had still happened, and the sore places in their minds that they were afraid to touch wouldn't stop hurting just because they shared this, just because they'd found each other and found that they could be happy again. But it helped. Oh, it helped!
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Very nice...
Re: Very nice...