Work Text:
Like most dreams, it didn't have a clear start. She drifted to sleep, and then she was. Amongst bedsheets, sun warmed somehow. Free from the omnipresent smell of blood.
There's a body pressed against hers. Warm, alive. All of her existence and consciousness concentrated in this moment, she dips her head and presses a kiss to his shoulder.
She dares not speak his name, as he looks at her softly with his blue-magenta eyes.
She knows what he smells like. It’s halfway between all the stupid chemically body spray guys think is cool, and the wash of sweat from the battle. Later on through the loop, as he spends more time trudging through coasts and forests looking for materials, that confused, juvenile body spray is breathed into something more earthy, firm. Maybe pine.
He sits up, and presses a kiss to the underside of her jaw. He lets his lips linger, as she feels his warm breath roll over her skin. She lets his mouth tilt her head upwards, as she stares a hole in the ceiling. It's too cruel.
Kindling set down, her body erupts into a fire of longing. She tilts her head down, and grabs him, trying to pull as much of in him as possible. Trying to reach for something tangible, real. He's patient, as she grabs him to her chest like some emotionally underdeveloped toddler clutching at a teddy bear, and perhaps that's worse.
She wants to say useless words.
She closes her eyes, and traces over the crooks in his body. Shoulder blades, ribcage, spine. She can feel the soft skin wrapped over them, press her fingers in and feel the firm bone underneath. She wants to tear him apart, and see, the delicious red against the white bedsheets. She wants him to give her that same warm smile.
She closes her eyes, and keeps her arms wrapped around him. She turns her mind to her axe ripping beautifully through the school invaders, blood and bile splattering the ground until it looks like a Jackson Pollock piece. The fleshy fullness to the intestines, their tantalising glisten.
She rocks her hips slightly, instinctually, and feels the knock of his bone against hers. She digs her fingernails into his back for a reason she can't discern, and hears his exhale. It brushes against her ear.
Maybe it's better to love something that can't love you back.
=====
In the morning, she's dragged back to awakeness; whether it's the land of the living or the dead, she's not sure. Bad things will come, it's her reality.
She wishes she could stop dreaming.