Saturday, March 23, 2019

Doya: Silent conversation


//All the usual disclaimers

He let his fingers stroke the soft skin of her cheek. Her hazel eyes were staring at his emerald orbs, searching answers to questions she had not been able to ask. Tonight was quiet, a much-needed break after the exhausting week they had together. Oya had been withdrawn most of the week, stressed -as Dean guessed- by something she wasn't able to share just yet. He knew her mind needed some rest and he knew that he could bring her peace, so he did. Her warm breath brushed over his face as she looked at his face. Her fingers were running over his waist as she kept him in a tight embrace. They didn't need words, not always, not tonight. Their bodies were communicating just well. This little heavy breathing she had when he was touching her cheek, the way she was shifting her eyes from left to right or even the small smirks he gave her between each little kiss he planted on her forehead were enough for the night. No words...just feelings. Dean knew Oya needed to feel safe, safer than she actually felt before they hit the bed. His arms always made her feel at home, anchored to this world as they were wrapped around her tiny frame.


His lips ensured she could feel rooted in this reality, each and every one of them taking her closer to him. He hands on her face were a silent conversation. One that would ensure with each stroke of his digits that she understood he was there, with her, at the moment. She would answer him, her fingers would find their place on his back, her soft lips would plant kisses on his shoulders, her eyes would focus on his face, they would try to make him see how much she cared for him. They would let him know she was home, he was her home and because he was with her, she was safe again. Her breathing would become more labored, sharper even as she would meet against his chest. Her touch would be electric, her gasps would be arousing, but it was her warmth that made everything better. Her warmth...She smiled at him, faintly so, but it was enough for Dean to know that she was feeling better. Her lips pressed against his as she pulled him into a searing kiss. The first of many others. Words were needed, for he understood what she needed. So he let his fingers run over the soft skin of her thighs and let her roll on top of him so she could take care charge, as always and speak with him the language of love.

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