Save a Horse...

Music had never held as much beauty in sound, nothing quite as pleasurable to the ear than this right here - than the sound of a truly pleasured woman. Of course, this was just a tease, the little appetizer, the opening act.

He might have been able to hold his control back long enough to get the reaction he wanted, to pull himself ahead in their little back and forth game, but he was far too selfish to not give them both what they wanted. There was just one more thing...

Her shirt had disappeared long ago, Roul grudgingly freed one hand to deal with the clasp, hidden from his mouth, and continue on with the sensitive skin he had hungered for. Down he had traced until he reached the the waist band of denim, teeth tugging the the hem ever so slightly, he froze, every muscle stilling as his eyes glanced up to the woman, the light in them a deep dark mischievousness the gasp, his name hidden among there still ringing in his ears.

"Yes Mon Amour?"

Her bottom lip was trapped between her teeth, shivers wracking her body each time he exhaled. Her eyes kept going unfocused, her attention more focused on his mouth or what his hands were-

Eyes of simmering blue grey flame met eyes of liquid brown heat, and her breathing evened out like the calm before the storm. Some emotion was present there, something more than desire flashing in the negative space that used to exist between their bodies. She blinked slowly, thee flush over her body and the electricity that still strummed through her nerve endings completely ignored in favor of the colour of his eyes.

"Roul..." her hands came from whereever they had been tempting, caressing the sides of his face and guiding him up to her, pressing her chest to his and never once loosing eye contact. Slowly, she brushed her lips against his, a slow sort of sigh releasing from her lips as she deepened the kiss. Her words were mumbles, barely audible, but there nonetheless.

"Don't let me go."

His smirk levelled out into something softer as he allowed her to pull him up, putting up no fight, giving in with no effort; it wasn't losing, it was something far, far greater.

"I wasn't planning to."

Then his hold tightened, fingers back up to her bare shoulder blades, touching ever bit of skin as if was the most precious thing he had ever seen, as if he might break it if he held too tightly. Moving his lips against hers, he followed her lead, moving along, his hunger morphing into a slow burn willing to take its time, willing to linger.

He was so focused on what their lips were doing, he didn't even notice his hands already fumbling with the buttons of her jeans pushing them down out of his way.

Cuddling.

It would have been foriegn to their relationship two months ago, but now it feels as simple as breathing. As simple as not moving at all. Idly, her fingers trace over his bare chest, a quilt that had been hanging over the couch thrown over her midsection to maintain some sort of dignity. At least, that was the half idea her ludicris mind had come up with.

She pressed a soft kiss to the skin above his heart, leaving her lips there for longer than she would normally in order to feel his heartbeat. His sweat tastes salty and yet is sweeter than sugar. Her universe is Roul and the couch and the fire that casts warm shadows over his body. Her fingers don't twitch to steal, but to touch, to see if there is an inch of him she's somehow missed between her mouth and body. There isn't, she's sure, but checking is fun as well.

She's humming the song she'd sang to him in the infermery, eyes focused on the swirls her fingers trace. She's sticky with sweat, heavy with exhaustion.

She doesn't want to move. She doesn't want to talk. She wants to lay here and forget that a shadow from her past is creeping ever closer. She wants to pretend that she could stay here forever, and not have to worry. She wants to stay silent with Roul and just exist.

She wants Roul, and Roul is something she could have. If she could only make up her mind.

A soft sigh, and then she's gazing up at him, eyes hooded, though alert.

"Rouley." She murmured, blinking slowly before a smile grows. She could think of a million perfect things to say, but instead her grin softens, and she pressed a kiss to his chin. "Mon amour."

Cuddling.

It would have been foriegn to their relationship two months ago, but now it feels as simple as breathing. As simple as not moving at all. Idly, her fingers trace over his bare chest, a quilt that had been hanging over the couch thrown over her midsection to maintain some sort of dignity. At least, that was the half idea her ludicris mind had come up with.

She pressed a soft kiss to the skin above his heart, leaving her lips there for longer than she would normally in order to feel his heartbeat. His sweat tastes salty and yet is sweeter than sugar. Her universe is Roul and the couch and the fire that casts warm shadows over his body. Her fingers don't twitch to steal, but to touch, to see if there is an inch of him she's somehow missed between her mouth and body. There isn't, she's sure, but checking is fun as well.

She's humming the song she'd sang to him in the infermery, eyes focused on the swirls her fingers trace. She's sticky with sweat, heavy with exhaustion.

She doesn't want to move. She doesn't want to talk. She wants to lay here and forget that a shadow from her past is creeping ever closer. She wants to pretend that she could stay here forever, and not have to worry. She wants to stay silent with Roul and just exist.

She wants Roul, and Roul is something she could have. If she could only make up her mind.

A soft sigh, and then she's gazing up at him, eyes hooded, though alert.

"Rouley." She murmured, blinking slowly before a smile grows. She could think of a million perfect things to say, but instead her grin softens, and she pressed a kiss to his chin. "Mon amour."

Contentment, Roul stretched out lazily on the couch with her on top of him had never felt as content with where he was in his life. The warmth of both her and the fire still crackling away was lulling him to a light doze; eyes clothes he breathed evenly. It wasn't even really occurring to him that she'd even leave; this was just...

A solitary moment, frozen in time, serene and perfect.

"Bonnie," he repeated softly, finally opening his eyes grinning softly, an expression that didn't cross his face very often. Reaching out a hand he traced the outline of her face, lingering slightly before dropping it back to his said. "Did you really want to go to my mother's thing; you don't have to... if you don't want to, I'd lo-like... if its more than you want, I can convince Blanche she dreamed you up." It was quite obvious he'd rather to just the opposite of that, but he put a grin on his face anyway. The last thing he wanted to do was chase her away all over again.

Her eyes closed in bliss as she leaned into his touch, following after it even as it disappeared. She rested her chin on his chest, her eyes staying closed as she resumed tracing swirls on his skin. "Mmm?" She asked softly. "And what would that accomplish? Telling your sister she dreamed me up, I mean. Doesn't seem very logical, does it?" She rested her head down, opening a single blue grey eye to gaze up at him. "I mean, if me and your sister are to be friends, her forgetting me would be troublesome, wouldn't it? Id have to meet her all over again."

She smiled then, the expression more relaxed than she'd ever been around him. "Would I have to wear a dress?" She asked again, quite sure no one had answered the last time. "I haven't..." something odd happened to her features, as if they were all pulled in the wrong directions, before she landed on confusion, and a bit sad. "I haven't been to a-" instead of finishing, she buried her face in his chest. "I don't know how to act or anything... but if you want me to go... I do want to go but-" she bit her bottom lip and peeked up at him. "I mean... you'd have to introduce me, wouldn't you? What if they think-"

What if they think I'm just one of your conquests?

Louder, almost more worrying, not because she was thinking it - she thought it for a long time, almost too long, really - but because it was starting to bother her. It shouldn't bother her.

What if I'm just one of your conquests?

"Good," his grin getting slightly cocky again as he went back to his favourite passed time, running a hand through her hair, "Blanche is stubborn; it might have just been more charm than I had to convince her she was imagining simply amazing people."

Before he could answer any of her questions, the more simple ones, he found her hiding in his chest, the simple smile morphing into something holding more concern. "Just by getting a name, they'd probably think we'd already run away to get married; you'll probably give them a heart attack," forcing her chin up to look at him, he leaned up a bit, snuggling close and making sure they were looking eye to eye, "But I just want to show you off. I don't show bimbos off, not to the people that matter." And despite the fact that Roul avoided them, his family did matter.

"Nothing too fancy, Mama doesn't go all out," he shrugged his shoulders. "a nice shirt works just as well."

Her lips twitched upward in a small smile, and a giggle escaped, though she tried to hide that in his chest as well. He could be so-

She calmed at his words, everything seeming just fine until he mentioned It. Her heartbeat accelerated, her eyes widening as her lips parted in pure, unadulterated panic. She tried to downplay it, taking a short breath that nearly turned into a gasp and almost shrinking away from him. It was- was- unfathomable. She couldnt-

She was standing now, humming almost nonchalantly as she pulled his shirt over her head. It fell to just below her bum, though she didn't seem to notice much as she went on a hunt for her boots. Once she was wearing his shirt, however, all search for other clothing stopped.

"Roul?" She murmured, and though her voice wasn't scared, it wasn't anything like her either. It was much too calm. Perhaps it was just like her. Perhaps that was the problem in itself. "I want to explain..." she paused, turning back toward him, hair falling around her like spun gold. She leaned forward, cupping his face as she brushed her lips against his. His watch still glinted from her right wrist. She pulled away slowly, but her eyes stayed closed longer, as if she were dissuading herself from seconds.

Her eyelids opened like she had all the time in the world.

She let herself get lost in his eyes for a brief moment, long enough to realize she was slowly inching forward, slowly going into kissing him again... but that she shouldn't.

"I am running." She said softly, fingers running through his hair. "But not from you." She pressed a long, lingering kiss to his forehead, then turned. Her eyes caught on the window, and her entire posture shifted angrily, a shadow on the other side of the glass shifting as well. There was a pause where they did nothing but stare each other down, but then Bonnie turned and disappeared, and in the echos of her disapparation, the other one went too.

She was ready to face him now.

She was still leaving. That was what he'd gotten out of all that; one moment she had been there, real, warm - he had even detected a laugh, which was boosting his ego more than he should have - and then she was gone.

It wasn't supposed to be about him, that was what those formless babble of words had been about, but there was still the undeniable fact of...

He was alone, left with nothing but a forgotten cowboy hat, and an an answered question.

"Who are you running from?"