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lizhanneTitle: And behind your eyes, the sea
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
anne_elliot
Pairing: Bob/Ray
Rating: R
Notes: Yet another image that took hold of my brain and didn't let go until I wrote it down. Sort of weird, I guess. Thanks toky_betty for the beta!
and behind your eyes, the sea
*
Bob is alone in the room, alone in his bed. One hand slides up his naked chest, fingertips only lightly touching the skin, like a whisper.
He closes his eyes and curls his fingers to caress his neck and the hollow behind his right ear. Someone else's hand, someone else's skin, a long time ago. He dreams.
*
It's the third day Bob's been at the beach, and Ray is there again. He only knows his name because Ray politely introduced himself after Bob ran after him to give back the wallet (it was his wallet, right?) that had dropped from Ray's back pocket on the sand, but they haven't talked again since that. From a distance, Bob can feel Ray's eyes following him, or maybe he's just imagining things. Wishful thinking.
Bob is bored, after all. Recovery after wrist surgery is infinitely more tedious he ever thought it'd be, and somehow the only thing that he wants to do apart from staring at the walls of his room is staring at the sea for hours. It's soothing. Sometimes he feels uncomfortably hot in his clothes, even if it's not summer yet, but he's never tempted to get in the water. He just watches it move.
Ray swims, instead. Bob can see him walking slowly into the waves, and wonders if the ocean isn't still too cold, but Ray doesn't seem to mind. The beach is never crowded, not in this season and not at this time of day, and sometimes Bob feels like there's only the two of them there.
His book lies unopened next to him, his mind focused on the bobbing rhythm of Ray's head in the water. On that third day, Bob realizes he just spent two hours like that, almost in a trance, and suddenly he can't tell where Ray is. He went away while his mind was somewhere else, he thinks.
*
Bob's other hand skims down his belly, tracing gentle paths on his length, like the ghost of a touch. He doesn't stroke, doesn't tease, he remembers - and his body remembers with him. A small moan escapes his lips, echoing in the silence.
*
On the fourth day, Ray turns and smiles at him as he slowly walks backwards into the waves. Bob thinks he might be beckoning him to follow, but pretends he doesn't see. When he looks up from the book he isn't reading, Ray is nowhere to be seen.
On the fifth day, Bob follows Ray in the water, his clothes like a small black oil stain on the white sand. Ray takes his hand, and Bob forgets his questions. What is he doing here? He doesn't care. Ray kisses him when they're waist deep in water, holds him close when the first wave hits over their heads.
Bob opens his eyes underwater, looks at Ray's face, white in front of him, his hair haloing around him like an underwater Medusa. The water is so clear it feels like floating in blue light, so peaceful Bob almost forgets he has to breathe until they break the surface. Ray slides a hand up Bob's chest, fingertips almost as light as the touch of water; he curls his fingers when he reaches Bob's neck, leaves a careful caress in the hollow behind Bob's right ear.
Bob shivers and kisses Ray again, lips cold and slick with water, grabbing Ray's waist to hold him close. Minutes, hours, maybe just seconds - it feels like forever. Time is suspended, and the only reality is that of skin on skin, of endless, slow motion of bodies sliding together.
*
The sheet under him is uncomfortable, rough and damp with sweat, but Bob doesn't notice as he comes, Ray's name on his lips, his eyes clear in the haze of his memories.
*
On the sixth day, Bob wakes up on the beach at the break of dawn, alone. He finds his clothes and goes home, and somehow he knows it would be useless to come back again.
*
Bob thinks maybe he slept, or maybe he was just daydreaming again. He should get up, shower, maybe eat something, but the rhythm of the waves in his brain makes him sleepy, lethargic. He turns on his side and stares at the wall. The light in the room is blue.
Author:
anne_elliotPairing: Bob/Ray
Rating: R
Notes: Yet another image that took hold of my brain and didn't let go until I wrote it down. Sort of weird, I guess. Thanks to
ky_betty for the beta!and behind your eyes, the sea
*
Bob is alone in the room, alone in his bed. One hand slides up his naked chest, fingertips only lightly touching the skin, like a whisper.
He closes his eyes and curls his fingers to caress his neck and the hollow behind his right ear. Someone else's hand, someone else's skin, a long time ago. He dreams.
*
It's the third day Bob's been at the beach, and Ray is there again. He only knows his name because Ray politely introduced himself after Bob ran after him to give back the wallet (it was his wallet, right?) that had dropped from Ray's back pocket on the sand, but they haven't talked again since that. From a distance, Bob can feel Ray's eyes following him, or maybe he's just imagining things. Wishful thinking.
Bob is bored, after all. Recovery after wrist surgery is infinitely more tedious he ever thought it'd be, and somehow the only thing that he wants to do apart from staring at the walls of his room is staring at the sea for hours. It's soothing. Sometimes he feels uncomfortably hot in his clothes, even if it's not summer yet, but he's never tempted to get in the water. He just watches it move.
Ray swims, instead. Bob can see him walking slowly into the waves, and wonders if the ocean isn't still too cold, but Ray doesn't seem to mind. The beach is never crowded, not in this season and not at this time of day, and sometimes Bob feels like there's only the two of them there.
His book lies unopened next to him, his mind focused on the bobbing rhythm of Ray's head in the water. On that third day, Bob realizes he just spent two hours like that, almost in a trance, and suddenly he can't tell where Ray is. He went away while his mind was somewhere else, he thinks.
*
Bob's other hand skims down his belly, tracing gentle paths on his length, like the ghost of a touch. He doesn't stroke, doesn't tease, he remembers - and his body remembers with him. A small moan escapes his lips, echoing in the silence.
*
On the fourth day, Ray turns and smiles at him as he slowly walks backwards into the waves. Bob thinks he might be beckoning him to follow, but pretends he doesn't see. When he looks up from the book he isn't reading, Ray is nowhere to be seen.
On the fifth day, Bob follows Ray in the water, his clothes like a small black oil stain on the white sand. Ray takes his hand, and Bob forgets his questions. What is he doing here? He doesn't care. Ray kisses him when they're waist deep in water, holds him close when the first wave hits over their heads.
Bob opens his eyes underwater, looks at Ray's face, white in front of him, his hair haloing around him like an underwater Medusa. The water is so clear it feels like floating in blue light, so peaceful Bob almost forgets he has to breathe until they break the surface. Ray slides a hand up Bob's chest, fingertips almost as light as the touch of water; he curls his fingers when he reaches Bob's neck, leaves a careful caress in the hollow behind Bob's right ear.
Bob shivers and kisses Ray again, lips cold and slick with water, grabbing Ray's waist to hold him close. Minutes, hours, maybe just seconds - it feels like forever. Time is suspended, and the only reality is that of skin on skin, of endless, slow motion of bodies sliding together.
*
The sheet under him is uncomfortable, rough and damp with sweat, but Bob doesn't notice as he comes, Ray's name on his lips, his eyes clear in the haze of his memories.
*
On the sixth day, Bob wakes up on the beach at the break of dawn, alone. He finds his clothes and goes home, and somehow he knows it would be useless to come back again.
*
Bob thinks maybe he slept, or maybe he was just daydreaming again. He should get up, shower, maybe eat something, but the rhythm of the waves in his brain makes him sleepy, lethargic. He turns on his side and stares at the wall. The light in the room is blue.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-27 01:05 pm (UTC)Beautifully written. :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-27 04:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-27 05:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-27 07:32 pm (UTC)(Also, MINEMINEMINE ;))