(Sorry, not sorry: This kinda turned out romanticy.)
She tosses and turns, unable to sleep as dark, voluminous clouds roll across the midnight sky. Usually it's nightmares keeping her asleep, but tonight, she cannot sleep for the pain. She could take something, but she already has. Worse, she knows that, with the approaching storms, there has yet to be a medicine created, neither by God or man, that will actually relieve the pain screaming through her legs.
She groans in her sleep and is so lost in the sea of pain that she doesn't know when her window opens. Normally, she would have known the very second someone approached, but this person's presence does not scream danger. It does not make her want to reach for the bat kept on her night stand, nor does it make her cringe in fear of what may happen. Any one else also could not have come in so easily, but there are two people whose entrances she has programmed her entire building to allow at any time. Two people whom she trusts with all that she has and all that she is.
Dick moves soundlessly across his old girlfriend's bedroom. He isn't here tonight for anything romantic. He is here only to help an old friend. He'd known the moment he could not reach her on the intercom that something was wrong, and their visit earlier that day had warned him how much she would hurt tonight with the impending rain. She's turning again and groaning once more when he catches her legs smoothly in his hands and starts to rub her muscles.
She shouldn't be able to feel him; she certainly shouldn't be able to feel him through her pain. Yet somehow she does. She feels the sensation of his palms sliding across her taut skin and groans in an altogether different manner. "D-Dick," she murmurs.
He can't help grinning. "I've been waiting a long time to hear you moan my name, Babs."
"Leave it to you to invade a lady's bedroom."
"I could leave," he counters, squeezing her gently yet tightly, "if you want."
"N-No." Instead she moves her other leg, pulling it back enough underneath the blankets that he can sit beside her. He sits and rubs her. Her eyes drift closed as she surrenders to the pleasure of the simple easement of her pain. But after a while, she forces her blue eyes back open and states, "You should be out there fighting."
"Believe it or not," he says, lifting his muscular shoulders in a shrug, "it's a quiet night. I guess even the villains hurt."
"We all do," she whispers honestly as his palms slide up and down her skin, swiftly massaging her. The truth of her words hang between them. They do all hurt, and it's not always with physical pain. It's not always from battles they've chosen, or from playing the hero. Sometimes it's not even from the physical ailments that have fallen over them.
For a moment, she thinks of asking him to join her. She considers asking him to stay. Her mouth opens to speak the words, but then she moans and closes her lips again. He keeps rubbing, keeps massaging, as her mind thinks of other things and other places his hands could be. Slowly, with a smile lighting her beautiful face, Barbara drifts off to actual, unusual sweet dreams of what could have been, what perhaps should have been or even definitely would have been in another world and another time, a world unbesieged by villains and all the cruelty and sorrow they have both suffered.
In her dreams, his hands reach further. His arms also surrounded her. His lips are as full and dreamy as they are every time they speak, but they also promise so much more, all in these rare, blissful dreams. Barbara moans, smiles, and her face flushes, all in her sleep.
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timeasmymeasure
Even If Only As Friends 1/2
Date: 2021-11-18 12:11 am (UTC)She tosses and turns, unable to sleep as dark, voluminous clouds roll across the midnight sky. Usually it's nightmares keeping her asleep, but tonight, she cannot sleep for the pain. She could take something, but she already has. Worse, she knows that, with the approaching storms, there has yet to be a medicine created, neither by God or man, that will actually relieve the pain screaming through her legs.
She groans in her sleep and is so lost in the sea of pain that she doesn't know when her window opens. Normally, she would have known the very second someone approached, but this person's presence does not scream danger. It does not make her want to reach for the bat kept on her night stand, nor does it make her cringe in fear of what may happen. Any one else also could not have come in so easily, but there are two people whose entrances she has programmed her entire building to allow at any time. Two people whom she trusts with all that she has and all that she is.
Dick moves soundlessly across his old girlfriend's bedroom. He isn't here tonight for anything romantic. He is here only to help an old friend. He'd known the moment he could not reach her on the intercom that something was wrong, and their visit earlier that day had warned him how much she would hurt tonight with the impending rain. She's turning again and groaning once more when he catches her legs smoothly in his hands and starts to rub her muscles.
She shouldn't be able to feel him; she certainly shouldn't be able to feel him through her pain. Yet somehow she does. She feels the sensation of his palms sliding across her taut skin and groans in an altogether different manner. "D-Dick," she murmurs.
He can't help grinning. "I've been waiting a long time to hear you moan my name, Babs."
"Leave it to you to invade a lady's bedroom."
"I could leave," he counters, squeezing her gently yet tightly, "if you want."
"N-No." Instead she moves her other leg, pulling it back enough underneath the blankets that he can sit beside her. He sits and rubs her. Her eyes drift closed as she surrenders to the pleasure of the simple easement of her pain. But after a while, she forces her blue eyes back open and states, "You should be out there fighting."
"Believe it or not," he says, lifting his muscular shoulders in a shrug, "it's a quiet night. I guess even the villains hurt."
"We all do," she whispers honestly as his palms slide up and down her skin, swiftly massaging her. The truth of her words hang between them. They do all hurt, and it's not always with physical pain. It's not always from battles they've chosen, or from playing the hero. Sometimes it's not even from the physical ailments that have fallen over them.
For a moment, she thinks of asking him to join her. She considers asking him to stay. Her mouth opens to speak the words, but then she moans and closes her lips again. He keeps rubbing, keeps massaging, as her mind thinks of other things and other places his hands could be. Slowly, with a smile lighting her beautiful face, Barbara drifts off to actual, unusual sweet dreams of what could have been, what perhaps should have been or even definitely would have been in another world and another time, a world unbesieged by villains and all the cruelty and sorrow they have both suffered.
In her dreams, his hands reach further. His arms also surrounded her. His lips are as full and dreamy as they are every time they speak, but they also promise so much more, all in these rare, blissful dreams. Barbara moans, smiles, and her face flushes, all in her sleep.