89I do not own Max or Fang or the flock.
Pre-Warning...it gets a bit "steamy" near the end...nothing happens, really, but I don't really reccomend reading if you're under the age of maybe 14. Rated T, but it's just a few details away from being M I think.
A little thing about the setting: I think, a rough guestimate, that Max and Fang should maybe be in their late teens early twenties. They're not so much on the run anymore, but their just kind of finding places to stay at for a while as they move. Nomads. Yeah.
Thunder
Fang stood by a clear window, staring out at the sky. The clouds were rolling in fast. He had noticed that much. Off in the distance, he could see the lightning strike. A beautiful array of sharp and jagged light stretched across the sky faster than the eye could blink, but he was lucky enough to see many of them claw across the ever darkening sky. If he concentrated enough, he could hear the booming thunder echoing across the heavens.
The shaky house seemed to moan from the immense noises of the storm. When lightning struck the intense light would flash through the windows, and when the thunder would boom the house would quiver and quake. Every monstrous sound would rattle through the house like a shock wave, and it made Fang shiver.
It was a good thing he was a heavy sleeper, but he soon frowned, remembering how infrequently he ever slept all that well. Only when he was overly exhausted, had over worked his body, did he ever sleep without stirring. Tonight was going to be a long, hard night full of tossing and turning and restlessness.
Again, the thunder reverberated through the sky, closer this time. Fang cringed, caught unaware and not pleased by it. He brought his cup to his mouth and took a long, slow sip of his hot chocolate, trying to savor the taste instead of concentrating on the storm. It worked and he got his desired affect for a short amount of time before the thunder shook the house again.
Max trudged in from the other room, looking worn out and deflated. She collapsed onto the sofa with a groan of fatigue. Fang glanced back at her, but his attention turned back to the approaching storm. Once the lightning raked across the sky again, he took another sip from his mug, and went to sit down beside Max, now satisfied.
Neither of them said anything. Max stared at the ceiling, counting the number of irregular shaped tiles to keep her mind preoccupied. Fang looked straight forward, though focusing on nothing, and every now and then he would take a sip of his hot cocoa.
"That took longer than usual," he finally said in a soft voice.
Max closed her eyes and relaxed back into the soft couch. "It's the storm," she told him wearily. "They're not used to being in a shack like this in the middle of a big one."
Nodding, Fang took another sip. "Makes sense," he mumbled. He took one last sip before handing the mug to Max.
"Thanks," she whispered as she pulled the mug to her lips. She inhaled the scent of freshly made hot cocoa, making her smile with content. "I needed this."
Fang shrugged, throwing an arm behind her over the back of the couch. Max didn't even bother to glance at him. She was used to this now, the physical contact, and she didn't mind it either. Right now, though, the warm mug in between her hands was the only thing she thought about, or at least concentrated on.
The thunder sounded again even closer than before now. Fang clenched his jaw tightly and closed his eyes, taking several deep, methodical breaths.
Max didn't need to ask what was wrong with him. She already knew. "Yeah, it gets me sometimes, too," she told him in hopes of making him feel better. She took another sip of her hot cocoa as she waited for him to respond.
"I know," was all he could say. Fang kept his eyes closed, though much more lightly than before. He tried to sense the way the thunder would shake the house so that the next time when it boomed he would be ready. "I still can't believe I haven't gotten used to this," he muttered, slightly disgusted with himself. "It was only this bad when we were on the run."
"Technically," Max began, but took another sip first, "we're still on the run. We just stay in one place more often, and we're usually not outside now."
"Still, this shouldn't shake me anymore," Fang mumbled.
Max grunted. "Suck up your pride." She took another quick sip. "Or what's left of it," she added to try and lighten his mood, even though she herself wasn't up to jokes.
"Too late for that," Fang sighed.
She sighed with him, taking one more long and savored sip of her drink. Neither of them spoke for what seemed like hours. The minutes ticked by slower than usual, as did every testing second that threatened to break their silence. Fang appeared to be sleeping after a while, but Max knew better than to think that. So many long hours spent watching his breathing, his chest rising and falling, and his facial features had taught her plenty.
His jaw was relaxed, but there was still some tension in it. That was a dead giveaway that he was still awake. Fang only completely relaxed when he was sleeping. There was always some tension or tightness in his jaw when he was awake. He couldn't help it. It was his nature and had become habit to him during their years of being on the run, when running was the only way to survive. Now, running was something they did because it was all they could manage to do. They couldn't just settle down, at least, not yet. When they were ready, they would find a place high and secluded in the mountains, but until then they were hotel hopping and breaking into empty houses.
Another thing Max noticed was the way his lips were still together in a firm line. When he was sleeping, Fang's lips parted so that he could breathe better. One time while he had been sleeping and she had been lying awake beside him, she began to trace the shape of his lips with her finger tip. He awoke soon after that, startled and slightly disoriented, but he went back to sleep with ease.
The way his chest rose and fell with each breath was all wrong for the way he slept, as well. When he was awake, Fang's breathing was even, as if here was timing the seconds before he would be able to take another breath. That was how it was right now. Max counted out the seconds in her head as she watched his chest move with every breath.
One Mississippi, two Mississippi, one Mississippi, two Mississippi, she counted out in her head in rhythm to his breaths.
A crack of thunder shook the house, and Max saw Fang's jaw tighten. She felt bad for him, that his body wouldn't allow him to relax when he needed it most. Max reached out and touched his cheek. Slowly, Fang's eyes opened and he looked at her wearily.
"We don't have to do this tonight, Fang," she whispered to him softly.
Fang closed his eyes again, gently holding Max's hand in his own. "I want to," he murmured. "Don't you?"
Max closed her eyes as she leaned into him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close to him. "Yes," she answered delicately. "Yes, I do."
He nodded and began to twirl her hair with his fingers. Max pressed herself as close to him as possible, feeling the heat transferring from his body to hers. She wanted to feel more of his warmth against her cold body. Tonight they would sleep close together for both of their sakes. Neither of them would get much sleep if the other wasn't there. They both knew this, and they knew it well.
Finally, Max opened her eyes and straightened up on the couch. She stood up slowly, careful not to startle him. Fang watched her every move with his tired eyes. Max bent over and kissed his forehead.
"I'll meet you in bed," she said to him, kissing him once more.
Fang nodded and slowly, as if it were painful, got up from the couch. He stretched his sore joints, but flinched when the sound of thunder ricocheted off of the nearby cliffs. Max watched him for a second to make sure he was okay before she shuffled into the kitchen with her empty mug in hand.
He didn't wait for her as he headed down the hallway, avoiding the stairs that lead to the other rooms. Downstairs was a separate bedroom that he had assumed was for guests of the owners. Despite the fact that they were here uninvited, the guest room still served its purpose for them. Upstairs was where everyone else was sleeping. The last thing he wanted to do was to disturb them.
The knob to the door of the guest room squeaked, but nothing that would draw attention or wake the others. Fang walked in silently, anticipating an unkempt room that would be an eye sore, but he was surprised to see that it was decent enough. He closed the door behind him, although, he left it opened a fraction of an inch so Max could come in. She was still in the kitchen he knew, so he stalled as he brought the covers down on the bed.
By the time he was done fixing the blankets, Max had walked in. She stood at the foot of the bed, watching as Fang nervously tugged at a corner of the sheet.
"You're usually not this skittish," she commented quietly.
"It's usually not this bad outside either," he told her, "and we're usually not in such a rickety house."
Max nodded, understanding. She made her way over to him, stopping just a step in front of him. They looked into each other's eyes, almost fearful of what would happen next.
"Are you going to start or should I?" she asked.
Fang stared at her for a second longer, but then he reached down and kissed her forehead. He moved to her eyes, her cheeks, her neck, her collar bone, and finally her lips. Each kiss was light, but it was enough to make her sigh with contentment. They smiled at each other, now comfortable with what they were doing.
Max jumped a little when she felt his hands at her waist, but she quickly held her arms above her head so that he could slowly pull her shirt off. There she stood in front of him with nothing more than a too small of a cami on, her bra exposed. After that, he crossed his arms in front of his body, pulling off his shirt now. For another long moment, they examined each other, memorizing the curves on the other's body.
She put her hands on Fang's broad shoulders and gradually slid them down his bare chest, feeling every muscle beneath her hands. Fang closed his eyes as Max found her way down to his belt and carefully undid the buckle. Max softly pressed her lips to the skin above his belt before standing back up.
They found each other's lips and slowly kissed, exaggerating their movements. Fang began to lightly tug on her slight shirt, and she kissed him harder. Max ran her hand down his arm, urging him push her to the bed. He responded as she had wanted. Now she was on top of him, using this to her advantage and trying to push his jeans off while still kissing him.
As she fumbled with his pants, Fang began to pull on her exposing shirt again. She seemed to enjoy this and gently bit down on his lip. In one swift movement, Fang had rolled them over so that Max was now underneath of him. He had kicked off his jeans and now sat above her in nothing but his boxers. Max still had on her shorts, cami, and under garments, and Fang was determined to get at least half of them off.
Neither of them needed to be told what to do. It was understood to both of them. Her shorts were slid off from her thin legs, and her cami was yanked over her head with ease. The kisses never ceased except for when Fang would softly press his lips to Max's neck, occasionally nipping or sucking on her tender skin. Max pushed him forward until they were both laying the wrong way on the bed with her on top of him. For a minute, they stopped and looked at one another, their breathing heavy.
"Had enough?" Fang asked breathlessly.
"Almost," she said lightheartedly. Max eyed his waist and began to trace the elastic waistband. "This is as far as we're going tonight."
"But we're not done," he assumed.
A glint of wickedness flashed in her eyes as she leaned down next to his face. "Not even close," she whispered into his ear.
Fang slid his hand onto her back and felt for her the frail pieces that held her bra together in the back. Max understood what he was doing and directed his hand with hers to the correct spot where the hooks were.
"On one condition," she murmured, still eyeing his waistline.
"Not fair," he said gruffly. Max crushed her lips against his, feeling his heat warm her.
The thunder rattled off in the distance, but Fang didn't even flinch. Max noticed this.
"Getting over our fears now?" she teased.
"I'm a little distracted," Fang reminded her.
"I can help with that," Max said covertly.
Before she had a chance to do anything Fang pushed Max back up to the head of the bed, making sure to land on top this time. He moved his lips with hers, loving the sound of their pleasure and fulfillment of lust. He was so preoccupied he didn't even notice the clash of thunder and lightning right outside the house. Max would keep him distracted, and maybe someday she'd break him of his habit of anxiety with storms. Maybe she'd break him of other habits someday, too.
Yeah...I had no idea where this was supposed to be going. I started writing it at about 10:00 PM and didn't finish until 12:30 AM...I got the general idea, the storm part, from the fact that there is a pretty bad storm system going through the area. haha!
This was way different for me. I usually don't write with this much...physical detail, but I was feeling...adventurous today. Besides, there's going to be a pretty steamy part in Chasing Midnight eventually, so I figured, what the hell? I might as well practice. o.o
Quick reminder to those who read other things of mine...I deleted my older story MR: Code Name Alpha (CNA) and have re-posted it as a new story. Go look for it and please, please, please give me critiques. I feel it's better than before, but not quite up to par yet. And if you could, please critique this one. I was attempting to write with sort of the idea of seductiveness (at parts) while still being slightly (but not very) reserved. Like I said, this was sort of practice for when I write the chapter for Chasing Midnight. Elliot is more reserved. Dawn is a bit eccentric and doesn't mind showing affection (especially toward Elliot).
Anyway...you know how this goes. I write. You read. You review. I write some more. We're all happy. :)
- Saz