twostandingby | (no subject)

Entry tags:

oom,
winter

(no subject)

Shove the stick to the left, throwing the X-wing into a sharp roll, and Tycho should feel the pull of the manuever even with the intertial compensator, but there's nothing. The simulators at Milliways are incredibly rudimentary; no simulated motion or even comm chatter. It's not flying. It's playing.

Still, it's as close as it comes to the real thing while Bound, and so Tycho is tucked behind the black curtain of one of the simulators in the recently (poorly) repainted room, determinedly vaping TIE Interceptors.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Isn't that what I just said?" he asks wryly, kissing the top of her head.

"Well, I meant, whether or not it was still there." Winter pokes him.

"Ow," he protests (it didn't hurt) good-naturedly, twitching away from her finger.

She sits up, looming over him, and kisses him.

"Mmmph." He leans up on one elbow to return it.

She slants her mouth over his, deepening the kiss, running her hand down his torso.

He leans up a little farther, makes a low noise into her mouth-- then pulls away, raising his free hand to her face and looking at her a moment, blue eyes on green in the dimly-lit room.

She nods. "Yeah."

She leans down, closing the distance between them again and whispers against his lips, "Happy lifeday."

Then she kisses him again.

A quiet, muffled laugh (which admittedly isn't that mirthful); his lifeday is many things, but one that it usually isn't--hasn't been for the past fourteen years--is happy.

Not happy, but Winter is here. It could be a lot worse.

He sinks his hand into white hair and falls back, pulling her with him.

One hand goes behind his neck, the other still on his chest, as she sidles up closer. She pulls away, for air, then kisses his jawline.

A jawline which is not-so-subtly tipped toward her as his hands travel down her back.

Kisses go up his jawline till she gets to his ear, drawing his earlobe into her mouth.

He releases a slow breath, and warm fingers are sliding up just under the hem of her shirt, running across bare skin.

She shivers, wiggling a little, nibbling on his ear.

There is a hand on her side, abruptly tugging her entirely on top of him with little regard for boots and sharp elbows that seem to be drawn to his kidneys.

She makes sure her feet are strategically placed to avoid bootage, and kisses him hard again.

It's comfortingly familiar, this; stay with someone seven years and you know what's liked, what isn't. They're good together. So it's the familiar strong hands and the familiar taste and familiar soft lips, and you know what?

Familiarity still does it for Tycho.

Familiarity still does it for Winter too, because new things get old after a while.

She pulls away again, nuzzling at his neck, hands sliding up and down his sides.

He reaches down, and slowly (blindly) tucks shoulder-length hair back, letting his hand curl around her ear. It's a simple gesture, but there's an incredible amount of intimacy to it, and his hand remains in place a long moment. Eventually, he follows the line of her jaw with his fingers.

"I feel like this day should be more about remembering the good things, but I can never seem to do that." She murmurs in his ear, breath hot, and she carefully closes her eyes again, her hands fisted at the top of his shirt.

"Hmm." It's a quiet noise, almost hummed, and he shifts. "Finally being considered old enough to go to Aldera with my father on a business trip; I'll never forget the way the city looked, almost lost against the beauty around it." A faint, far-off smile--a little boy clutching the seat of a landspeeder, blue eyes wide--and then he kisses her and murmurs, "Your turn," against her lips.

"Wearing wigs and pretending to be Leia so she could sneak out with boys. Snow, when it was untouched, white and pure, Bail would send us out there and demand something worthy of the museums, and by the time he came out to check on us, it'd be snow families and villages and us, frostbitten and shivering from snow fights."

She smiles softly, remembering Leia as a little girl with huge brown eyes, and herself, with white hair that lay perfectly when Leia's was rumpled more often than most.

A flash of a smile at the stories. "See?" Hand moving in slow patterns on her back. "You can do it. Just takes a little bit of thought."

She curls closer. "I miss him."

The smile is gone just as fast as it appeared.

"I know." Quiet moment. "I miss them all, too."