dovelike | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

The Door opens onto the terrain at the base of Olympus, as always, but this second visit is slightly different than the first. They won't be hiking up the sacred mountain, not unless Clark wants to see it again, and the landscape is ordinary. Aside from being gorgeous and Mediterranean, anyway.

"Come on, my house isn't too far from here."

Eirene's smile isn't quite as blissful now, and the totally euphoric feeling has -- actually not disappeared, just lessened slightly.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's instinct, mostly, that he starts to leans back on the bed, his hands tugging her down with him. And then one slides back up into her hair, fingers tangling gently in the soft strands.

Eirene had planned on pulling away after a few more minutes of kissing; which, considering their history, she thought was reasonable and responsible. But now she's lying across him, with her hands trapped beneath his back, and Clark is kissing her senseless.

So her sensible brain takes a hike, leaving room for the soft groan, and the squirming to move right in and take over.

It's safe to say that sensible has officially left the building. Possibly some time ago. And almost as if to prove it, Clark doesn't let up at all in his attentions to her, a hand drawing lazy circles over the small of her back, just under her shirt.

That is guaranteed to make her squirm, hips rolling down against his, muscles contracting beneath his fingertips, and her mouth suddenly determined to get Clark as dizzy as he's making her right now.

And her hands? Are very slowly sliding around towards his chest.

Clark is already pretty dizzy. At least not thinking straight, because if he was, he'd have stopped this long ago.

But he's not, so he doesn't, despite the faint groan that escapes him when she moves her hands.

Sadly, Eirene has no such excuse, aside from her assumption that he would protest if he did not wish to go further. Which is, sadly, a side effect of her own addled mentality. Perhaps she'll sense when he gets truly uncomfortable.

Her lips drift away from his, again, tracing the outline of his jaw towards the softer skin of Clark's neck, about the same time her fingers reach his chest, underneath the shirt, and begin tracing the expanse of warm flesh.

His muscles tense under her touch, almost involuntarily. Which could potentially be the start of discomfort, or Clark's brain finally starting to fire on all pistons again.

Or it could just be surprise.

Discomfort or 'Clark really doesnt want to do this' tensing are normally accompanied by "Eirene, we really shouldn't do that", and there is ample opportunity, as she's not occupying his mouth, so she'll go with option number three.

And continue to trace his throat, and his chest, with mouth and fingers, respectively.

Clark's hands have drifted back down to her hips, where his fingers dig into her skin, holding her against him.

"Eirene..."

And that will serve nicely as a tiny diversion, enough to still her hands just above his stomach, and her lips perhaps half an inch below his pulse.

"Clark..."

"Eirene, I..." And there's a sigh that should signal he's starting to think again.

After a moment, he lifts her chin to meet his gaze. "You make me happy."

It does, which means her hands are slowly sliding down towards the hem area of his shirt in preparation for not touching bare skin anymore.

But the light in her eyes cannot be ignored, nor the literal soft glow his words produce.

"You make me happy too, Clark."

"Good." Eirene will get a soft smile back.

He caresses her cheek for a moment. "We should probably get some sleep."

It may take a minute to reply, and then she just nods at first.

Softly. "You're probably right. Do you want me to tuck you in?"

Teasing. Mostly.

His smile gets a little wider, and possibly a little more mischievous than it should with a woman straddling him on a bed. But it is.

"I wouldn't say no if you offered."

"Then I'm offering. You get your pajamas on and I'll get things settled downstairs."

Eirene is as good as her word, sliding off of him, and the bed, to pad barefoot out of the room and head to the ground floor to make sure everything is put away for the night. She makes a stop in her room to toss on a large t-shirt borrowed from her legendary half-brother, and then wanders back into Clark's guest room about ten minutes later.

"Are we doing bedtime stories too?"

It might take Clark the better part of that ten minutes to work out what just happened and deal with it as best he can. So when Eirene returns, he'll not be as ready as he should be - the t-shirt is still in his hands - and he seems to be caught up looking out one of the attic windows to the garden.

"If I remember right that usually goes with the territory."

"Okay. I'll let you pick what story you want to hear and why aren't you dressed?"

Eirene would normally turn around and walk right back out so he could change, but now she's wondering what he's staring at outside.

So naturally she'll sidle up to the same window and peer out.

She probably won't see it; it's just that it's not Kansas. And he's wondering if he should be getting used to this view.

"I am." Well, he will be in a minute when he pulls the shirt over his head. "Tell me one of your stories. A Greek one."

"Alright."

Eirene settles down at the foot of his bed, back braced against the wall, and stares off into space for a few minutes, rifling through the massive amount of tales about her family. When she speaks again, her voice is very soft.

"Alright. One of my nephews has recently found the Bar, so I will tell you his story, in case you ever meet him. His name is Aeneas, and he is the son of my sister Aphrodite, and the mortal ruler Anchises. He fought with King Priam during teh Trojan conflict."

Pause.

"He's a good man, puts his people above himself, performs his duties to the gods perfectly, and while I don't like it, he does train as a soldier for the day he is called on to lead his warriors into that battle. Of course, here in this world, in this time, he is thousands of years dead. But he acquitted himself honorably on the fields before Troy, and he is the one who led the survivors across the sea, and across the Hellenes to safety in Italy."

Eirene glanced up finally.

"Do you know what my nephew did? He married a local, and he founded a dynasty, a bloodline that resulted in the foundation of Rome."

Somewhere during all that, Clark has managed to stretch out on the bed, under the covers, and possibly tugged her down beside him.

"He founded Rome, huh? I forget, sometimes, that you all were around long before they were. We hear so much about the Roman Empire, it's easy to forget the Greeks were all civilized and stuff first."

If Eirene wasn't under the covers a minute ago, she is now, once she realizes exactly what he did while she was distracted with storytelling. Hey, he's comfortable, and warm, and so obviously needs a Greek body pillow.

Mostly.

"His descendents did, yeah. And that's absolutely right. We Greeks were there first - excepting of course the Eastern empires like China, or Egypt's seriously long history.

And if you actually want to sleep by yourself, better tell me now, because otherwise I'm too comfortable to move."

A Greek body pillow isn't a bad idea after all. Clark slides an arm underneath her, hand curling around her waist and pulling her against him, her head on his shoulder.

"Then don't move."

Well, after a shifting around to adjust herself better against him, and smother a yawn that goddesses aren't supposed to let slip.

"Mmmkay." Yep, that's a drowsy tone. "Tomorrow we go find furniture."

"Yep." Clark snuggles down further, starting to drift off himself. "And a puppy, since the yard's too small for an elephant."

(no subject)

eirenikos - 2008-06-29 06:21 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

hero_farmboy - 2008-06-29 06:23 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only