saturday night and the moon is out

[feel_human]

Tucked away off the road in Bon Temps, there's a road house. Warm light spills from its windows, and the sound of a jukebox playing drifts out into the muggy Louisiana night. The regular assortment of trucks and Hail-Mary-please-keep-this-lemon-goin'-just-a-little-longer cars sit in the dirt parking lot; what amounts to about half the town's small population... or, at least, of those of the 'drinking age and above' persuasion.

Inside, it's a bar of the type scattered all across the American South: homey, no-nonsense. Booths and tables. A man in a plaid flannel shirt wiping the bar; a crossdresser in the kitchen singing Gospel hymns and rolling his hips in time with the words just to scandalize the prep cook. A handful of waitresses, bustling about.

Sookie makes her way briskly through it all, a tray balanced on her palm and her eyes kept stubbornly front, as voices swarm around her. Aloud, and... less so.

...I’m just going to have one beer tonight Jesus one beer that’s all...

...better not gripe about me eating fries not after what I did for him last night...

...I cannot wait to get the hell out of this podunk town...

 

 "Well, make sure you do, and before it’s too late," she responds, thoughtless, to the young man. "Because every year you wait? You just get more and more stuck here. Believe me, I know."

He stares at her. So do his parents.

So does the other table. And she realizes, too little too late, that he hadn't said that out loud, not at all. She laughs, uncomfortable. "I’ll get y'all some ketchup," she says, brightly, and flees, ponytail swinging against the nape of her neck as she goes.

Stupid, Sookie, she chides herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

 

Comments

[feel_human]

Just that thought makes her shiver, a little; the thought and the mischief in his eyes combined. Her blush is going nowhere, but she doesn't mind. He's not saying it to make her embarrassed or uncomfortable, and he doesn't mind her bashfulness.

She drops a kiss on his collarbone and snuggles up to his side. "Good thing we had a good lunch," she teases. Seems like they'll need the energy.

[gavemea_45]

"It sure is." He puts an arm around her and cuddles her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Want to take that pretty dress of yours off?" he murmurs, after a moment. "Curl up together like that?"

[feel_human]

That sounds nice; that sounds perfect. She extricates herself in the next moment, sitting up on her hip, and slides the zipper down her back, then tugs her dress up and off over her head. She sets it neatly to the side and lies back down to cuddle up to him again, savoring the sensation of his warm bare skin against hers.

[gavemea_45]

"It is a pretty dress, you know." He runs his hand lightly over her hip, back and forth. "You nearly knocked me flat when I saw you waiting for me at the house."

[feel_human]

"I'm glad."

She puts her arm over his stomach and relaxes against him, lulled by the steady up and down motion of his chest as he breathes. "I wanted to look pretty for you."

[gavemea_45]

"You definitely did that." He kisses her hair again. "You're beautiful."

[feel_human]

She blushes, but she can tell he means it, and not just as flattery. There aren't a lot of perks to this disability of hers, but one of them is generally being able to tell when people mean what they say.

And he mostly does, which is one reason why she likes him. "You're sweet," she returns. "And handsome, to boot."

[gavemea_45]

He breathes out a wisp of laughter. "I don't think anyone's ever called me sweet except you."

[feel_human]

"Then I guess nobody was payin' attention before."

Because he is sweet. There's a softness in him that's nothing like weakness; he's kind and thoughtful and curious and, yes, sweet. As honey, as the summer sunshine filtering down over them.

[gavemea_45]

Sam shifts a little beneath her so that he can lean down and press the next kiss to her bare shoulder, overwhelmed with a wash of fondness.

[feel_human]

She makes a small sound and smiles into his skin, because he's just proved her point: that kiss was sweet, too.

"I like that," she murmurs. "All your kisses. How you hold me and touch me."

[gavemea_45]

"Hmm." He strokes his hand down her back, from her shoulders all the way to the base of her spine, then does it again, slow and deliberate.

"Well, I like touching you," he points out. "And holding you, and kissing you."

[feel_human]

She arches under his petting like a cat, a small, contented sound tugging from her chest.

"I'm glad to hear that," she teases. "But it'd be pretty hard to fool me if you didn't."

[gavemea_45]

"I guess," he agrees, amused. Sam pets her again, then again, and then wraps his arms around her and turns them so that she's lying on her back on the ground and he's braced above her.

He leans down to kiss her, then smiles at how she looks.

[feel_human]

She grins up at him, amused and charmed in equal measure.

"Now what?" she teases.

[gavemea_45]

"Now you don't have to do anything," he teases back. "Just lie there and relax and let me pet you."

He runs one hand over her shoulder and down to her fingertips, to demonstrate.

[feel_human]

She shivers and giggles and lies still as he requests, goosebumps following the line his fingertips take along her skin.

"Okay," she murmurs, amused, willing to go along with whatever it is he's thinking.

[gavemea_45]

He kisses her again, then sits up beside her and trails his fingers over her shoulders and her collarbone and the hollow of her throat, tracing gentle patterns, which he then leans in to follow with kisses along the path he'd just drawn.

[feel_human]

She arches up beneath his touch, no longer even a little self-conscious about her nakedness. If anything, it feels perfectly right, to be this bare beneath the sun, beneath his fingers.

[gavemea_45]

She's relaxed and at ease with him, responding to each touch and gentle caress, and Sam's glad. He shifts again, drawing his hand down along the lines of her body as he kisses the hollow of her throat.

He rests it on her upper thigh, then moves to her inner thigh, coaxing her to let herself open but not seeking to touch her most sensitive places. Not yet.

[feel_human]

She sighs at the kiss he places against her throat and shifts her leg as he coaxes her, keeping herself solidly in this moment with him, not allowing herself to think about anything or anyone else.

[gavemea_45]

He shifts again to kneel between her legs and begins petting her with long, sweeping strokes along her body, shoulders to hips and back again. He cups his hands around her curves, teases her nipples with his fingers, and just watches her as he runs his hands along her skin, warmed by the sunlight and by his touch.

[feel_human]

Her back arches, pushing her up into his touch, against his hands, as she takes a quick, stuttered breath.

"You feel so nice, honey," she murmurs, watching him with warm, dark eyes.

[gavemea_45]

"So do you." Soft and warm. He keeps petting her with deliberate strokes, watching for any particular reaction that lets him know she likes something more or less than something else.

Slowly, he glides along her hips, running his hands along her thighs to her knees and back again, then back up her body, over and over.

[feel_human]

She inhales, slow, and closes her eyes to focus on the way his hands feel as they track over her skin, mapping every curve. When she opens her eyes again, they're dark and drowsy and full of lazy desire, watching him back. There's a faint frisson of nerves, seeing him kneeling there between her legs, but it doesn't overtake her; she just watches him, trusting, her body moving like a wave under his hands.