From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: Sun, 17 Sep 2000 09:34:16 -0500 Subject: Fantasies by Teresa Garrison Source: direct Reply To: tazresa@msn.com TITLE: FANTASIES AUTHOR: Teresa Garrison RATING: light R SPOILERS: nothing really. Set anytime before last half of season 7. DISCLAIMER: No names are mentioned, so this isn't really necessary. Just in case, don't own `em, no profit made. SUMMARY: Just a few thoughts. AUTHOR'S NOTES: Just a little fluff. I just couldn't get this out of my head. Why do I do this to myself? I always fall for the kind of man I can't have. The ones who are totally out of my reach. It's torture. I watch him when he's not looking. I hope I'm able to cover up what I'm thinking. If he only knew what I was thinking right now, would he be interested or disgusted? I just can't tell. It all started when he reached by me to get something from a cabinet behind me. He's wearing a white dress shirt today. Fairly thin material. No t-shirt underneath. When he leaned toward me I could see his nipples through his shirt. All I could think of was how much I wanted to lean over and nibble on them. I do this all the time. He'll move a certain way, say something, lean towards me to show me a file, and I'll get these flashes of us together. Of what I want to do to him. What I need him to do to me. My eyes drift shut. Hmmmmm. Stop it. Stop it right now. Now is not the time to indulge in this. He's here, in my home. Trying to get some work done. Oh God, what was I thinking? Why did I invite him here? It's too easy to let my thoughts wander, there's no easy reminders that we can't do this, that we must be professionals. All I can think of is that my bed is just a few short feet down the hall. Or hell, the couch is closer - he's already sitting on it, how convenient. I let my eyes wander over his form. He's reading through the file in his lap. The light from the lamp behind him casts a warm glow to his mussed hair. I've always loved his habit of running his fingers through his hair as he works. I watch and can almost feel the silky strands of hair on my own fingers. The lamplight casts enough of a reflection off the lenses of his glasses to partially hide his eyes from me. Darn. I love those eyes. My gaze moves down and I watch transfixed as his teeth bite gently on his lower lip. I want those lips. I want them on mine. On my body. My eyes move even lower, caressing his chest, moving up, across his shoulders and down his arms. Suddenly, I hear my name. He says it distractedly, as if he wants to make a comment on what he's read. I look at his face, to find he hasn't looked up from his paperwork yet. I try to put on a calm expression, but I hear the quick intake of breath he gives when his eyes finally meet mine. I haven't been able to hide it this time. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes must be bright with lust. I cringe inside. He's going to get up any minute now and leave. I've crossed the line. We aren't supposed to go here. Just friends. Co-workers. Nothing more. I close my eyes, dropping my head down to hide my face. Too late, but the last shreds of my pride insist that I attempt to rectify the situation. I hear him rise from the couch, his footsteps taking him in my direction. I listen, expecting the footsteps to continue past me, towards my front door. I'm surprised when they stop in front of me instead. I jump a little when a gentle finger touches me on my chin, exerting a slight pressure to tilt my face up. Something soft brushes against my lips, then is gone. A moment later, it returns again, but with more force. Oh. My. God. His lips. He's kissing me. I finally have the presence of mind to open my mouth, allow him to deepen the kiss. His hands move down to my arms, pulling me up out of my chair and into his body. I moan at the contact. We stand there kissing for endless minutes before he starts backing towards the couch. He guides me onto the cushions, following me down, and covering my body with his. Pulling back just enough to start working on the buttons of my blouse, his eyes lock with mine. "Do you know how many times I've dreamed of this? How many times I've thought about touching you?" My eyes widen at the words. My fingers lace through his hair, tugging his head back toward mine. RING! The shrill sound of the telephone jerks me awake. Fumbling with the receiver, I manage to mutter hello only to be greeted with the sound of a click and the dial tone. Hanging up, I stretch and roll over. Loneliness wells up once again inside me when I see nothing but a bare expanse of bed beside me. I look at the clock and decide that it's pointless to try to go back to sleep now. I might as well get up and start getting ready to go to work. Lord knows, I'll need all the time I can get to prepare for the day ahead. Another day working by his side. Wondering how he feels. Dreaming about him.