Dark Angel Drabble
Nov. 16th, 2005 10:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dangermousieA/N: You know I am a goner when I start writing fic. This is Max/Logan. Because I am both a canon nazi and and angst whore. This has spoilers for episode 2.01
She holds him as if he is fragile. As if she could break him, which of course she could. His tongue leaves damp trails on her skin for his mouth to follow, and his hands paint intricate, invisible swirls on her skin. Her eyes are open, but his are closed, and she touches his eyelids gently with her fingertips.
She swims back from the dream of contact to reality of isolation.
There is a hand on her shoulder and she jerks away instinctively, panic-stricken. Then she feels feminine, manicured nails and sanity penetrates the fog. It’s a stranger’s hand. Or a friend’s. But not his. Never his.
She holds him as if he is fragile. As if she could break him, which of course she could. His tongue leaves damp trails on her skin for his mouth to follow, and his hands paint intricate, invisible swirls on her skin. Her eyes are open, but his are closed, and she touches his eyelids gently with her fingertips.
She swims back from the dream of contact to reality of isolation.
There is a hand on her shoulder and she jerks away instinctively, panic-stricken. Then she feels feminine, manicured nails and sanity penetrates the fog. It’s a stranger’s hand. Or a friend’s. But not his. Never his.
