Silence Is Golden 1

Silence Is Golden

by AbylityMaren

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asa/amaren/silence01.php
Summary: Two guys being very very quiet

I'm afraid to breath.
I'm afraid to move.
I'm afraid he'll move.

His head is on my chest. Dead center over my heart. His left arm is across me. The elbow on my stomach, bent to curl up around his face. Ending with his hand resting on my shoulder. His left thigh is carelessly draped across my hips. The bent knee brings the foot back between my legs. It hooks around my thigh. The right leg finishes the line started by its companion arm beneath him.

The left side of my body is wrapped in his. When we fell asleep he was three feet away from me. How did he get over here? I close my eyes and swallow my thoughts wishing that I had remained asleep. I'll never sleep now.

If he were awake he'd hear my heart.
He'd feel my breath on the back of his curved neck.
I can't make a sound.
I can't move.

Below us are the others. The murmured conversation, the scuff of a boot against dirt floor creating a monotone that is in direct contrast to the rhythm of blood pounding in my ears. Teyla's soft laugh drifts up into the loft to be muffled by the hay. Ford's quiet response. They're keeping watch. Not really necessary here. Perhaps its a habit for them.

I try to fill my mind. Try to remember the day behind me. Try to think of the things that will have to be done tomorrow. I'm trying to will my blood North. But its as if the heat of his form is drawing all of my blood to one location. I can feel my pulse there. Its too loud. He probably curled up against me in search of warmth.

I dare not make a sound.
I don't dare move.
And then he does.

Its a sort of stretch. The arm tightens and the head curls further into the crook on an intake of breath. The leg begins to straighten as a sigh escapes from him. Slowly and luxuriously it extends. No longer across my hips, his thigh now lays atop that traitorous pulse. A little more blood is emptied from my mind as it races to meld with that aggravating tempo.

I try to call it home by reciting the periodic table silently. Hydrogen, Atomic number: 1, Atomic weight: 1.00794. Helium, Atomic number: 2, Atomic weight: 4.002602. Lithium, Atomic number: 3, Atomic weight: 6.941....It isn't working. I suck in a giant gulp of air.

I hold my breath.
Don't move.

His head slides across my chest and down my shoulder. I squeeze my eyes shut, fake sleep, as that head comes to rest just off my shoulder. I can feel his breath warm and heavy at my neck. It just brushes my ear. Its steady and unchanging.

I open my eyes again to stare at the dark emptiness overhead. Its too far up to see the rafters of the barn in the dark. My mind populates the abyss with images that bring a flush of warmth to my skin and the tempo of that pulse is renewed. "Rodney?" it is more breath than sound. My heart jumps. I turn my head.

"You ok?" he mouths. He's noticed the change in my breathing. I can give no answer, merely blink in response. The cool air swirls around us as my eyes, of their own accord, trace the contours of his face. He gives me that smile I find so distracting. A smile that creates images of pairings I hadn't considered before meeting him.

A smile too small. Its a mere quirk at the corner of his mouth. It isn't the response I expect. Perhaps that smile is a trick of the dark?

His left thigh presses down against my swollen thoughts. My mouth goes dry in terror as I watch the smile disappear. I can see his mind pause.

Slowly, he pulls up his body and straddles my thighs. He is no longer making contact with my bulk. Cold air rushes in but does not alleviate, does not cool that traitorous pulse.

I'm frozen.
I'm mute.

He's floating above me. Light and shadow and flash of eyes are all I see. He leans in very slowly. I close my eyes. I think he is waiting for me to flinch. Suddenly, I feel breath against my lips. I open my eyes in surprise to see him mere inches above me, waiting, and then he leans in to create the barest contact. It repeats, that caress that teases my mouth. I arch my neck slightly to catch lips as they pass. Contact is made and I encourage more. My lower lip is held between his, then his teeth catch me. More pressure, and the contact becomes all encompassing. His tongue slides in carefully then eagerly. I hold my breath and greedily respond to soft warmth and wet invasion.

I mustn't move.
I musn't make a sound.
I can't move.

He leans back. His weight is against my thighs, pinning me. His hands move to push up my shirt. Cold air. His nose finds the center of my breastbone. His breath dancing across my skin. I hear him take a deep breath and then those lips glide over to the left. They brush flesh and a tongue shoots out to stroke nipple. My back arches. A groan makes its way to my lips but his hand beats it there. It's gentle but firm. My eyes flick down to meet his. They tell me, remind me, that one sound will end this.

Must not move.
Must not breath.
Must not end this now.
Must not question.

His lips return to their task as his hand slides down to my neck. They're joined by his tongue. Then a gentle edge of teeth. I try not to move, but am unable to stop a curling of toe, a reflexive stretching and fisting of hand. My breath is choked, strangled as sound is pushed back. Suffocated.

It goes on forever. It becomes an unbearable limbo. First to the left then a slow crawl to the right and then, seemingly without warning, a slow path is traced down the center of me. My navel is violated and once again breath is choked to stop a groan, a plea. His tongue lingers, entering and circling the delicate area. Without my willing it, my hands reach for his thighs. I hold them with all my strength. I anchor myself with his body.

And then cold air rushes in as his body once again lifts. His lips return to mine. I hear nothing but an intake of breath. It's his and mine. As his hand braces beside my ear and the other reaches the button at my waistband a push of breath is forced from me. And then my zipper is moving down while a finger cushions the mechanism, sliding against the overwhelming pulse. Once it reaches bottom the whole hand follows that finger, to move back up. And down. And up. The cloth of my boxers impeding full sensation.

No sound.

But a whimper of air escapes from me. On instinct my hips try to rise to meet the hand exploring and tormenting. He leans back and lifts himself slightly away from me. The lack of weight is disconcerting. I want contact, any contact. My hips rise again to meet with anything. In that instant, one fluid motion brings the hand at my ear down to my waistband. Without pause, both of his hands work to bring boxers and pants down, exposing me. I shut my eyes tight. I don't want him to see me now. I don't want him to see the blush that floods my cheeks. It's irrational, I know in the dark a flush of skin cannot be seen. But my breath is short, sharp, shallow and will betray that crimson flood. Its nearly as strong as the pulse.

His weight returns to my thighs. To be followed by nothing. No further contact. My breath is harsh. Waiting and wanting. My eyes open and meet his. I see the question in his eyes. Do I want to continue, to go the next step? At that moment he could ask me to hold up liquor stores, kill puppies, beat up old ladies. A small nod of my head. Its all I can manage.

He reaches down with his left hand to brace his weight against my shoulder. The right hand reaches for that pulse. The fingers encircle me and the thumb brushes against the head. The calloused digit spreads the teardrop of fluid across the skin. He pulls his hand back to lick palm and fingers. Then it returns warm and moist from his saliva. It glides up and down.

Slowly. Please, start slow. My neck arches and my eyes shut again. I hear the rustle of hay in my ears and hope that it is not too loud. I think it is. It fills my consciousness.

Must not make a sound.
Must not move.
Must not end this moment.

His weight on my thighs keeps my hips from bucking in response to the rhythm he's creating. The hand continues its determined work. The pace builds. I feel as if I'll start to hyperventilate. My breath is beyond my control. All thought is focused on not moving. Not letting pleasure escape from between my lips.

No sound.
Mustn't move.
Terrified it will end.

The slow rhythm continues to intensify. I open my eyes to see his face above me. He's watching me suffer with his lips slightly parted. His hand on my shoulder stills a convulsive, pleasure induced twist of spine. He mouths the word "Good" and nods his head in ecouragement. I can feel the small swirl of pleasure building in my stomach. His eyes meet mine and again, "Good". The tension of my body increases exponentially and makes my blood step up its flow to meet demands. The sound that is stopped up within me is pushing against my diaphragm. Pounding to be released. Threatening.

No sound.
Do not let it end.

I'm moving past the point of words.  My mind registers a scrap of sound from the voices below before all awareness of my surroundings is swallowed by the sensation, the tidal wave that overwhelms me. I feel the pressure of his left hand again as it covers my mouth just in time to quash the moan that comes, uncontrollable, from me. The other hand continues, quick and skilled. Friction and pressure at the perfect tempo to match that overpowering pulse.

A roar of flame runs through me as my back arches. The sensation starts at my groin and races to my toes and then envelops my entire body. My back is curved and bow string tight. My hands convulse and grip his thighs with bruising strength. I struggle against the hand that blocks the path of my pleasure's voice.

Must move.
Must make a noise.

I barely register the warmth that splashes across my stomach as fluid bears witness to my silent release. We pause. Two bodies hanging on a moment. He slides off as my world swims back into focus. Disbelief has not yet over powered sensation. I float in silent bliss for a brief moment as his warmth once again curls against my left side. I feel his breath again at my neck, harsher now. It torments my ear. I turn my head to look at the man and cannot restrain my catch of breath as he silently mouths "My turn" and his lips curl in that half smile.

I see little beyond light and shadow and the flash of his eyes as I move my weight to straddle his thighs.

He mustn't make a noise.
He mustn't move.

Next: Crime Pays