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29 October 2006 @ 07:51 pm
Theatrical Muse: Week 150: Question 150  
Name: Dr. Sid Hammerback

Fandom: CSI: New York

Word Count: 597


Special Photo Challenge: "Tunnel." Write a ficlette inspired by the setting or mood of this photo. Note, this image can be seen at: Tunnel Picture.


“No!” the scream echoed through the shadowy walls of the small brick tunnel as one young lover, a man with a shock of brown coloured hair that flapped as he moved, pressed the shrieking woman up against the cold wall. They grinded together for a few lost moments, their eyes closed, his lips latched onto the left side of her neck, his hair brushing against her nose. For three or four lost moments, they were at peace, complete and utter, everlasting peace. Then the man jerked away from her and grinned, propping himself up on one left against the opposite wall, one foot on the ground, the other resting lazily against the cemented bricks that made up one of their secret hiding places.

“Just until night time. Then we’ll head home. Back to your dresses, and makeup, and...” the man paused, a boyish grin spreading across his handsome bespectacled face.

“Your cupcakes.” he said gleefully, nodding sagely, and suddenly trying to make his face follow suit. The woman smiled, her lips outlining an all too girlish smile, a mere twitch of the facial muscles that made her look all too charming. A soft chuckle escaped her mouth, and the man watched captivated at the parting of her teeth, the way her voice, rich with amusement, sounded like the tinkling of a thousand tiny silver bells.

“That doesn’t make sense!” she said, her voice once again escalating into a shriek as with, new found passion filled vengeance, the man began a new assault on her neck, her front, down her shoulders, along all those delicate bones that could be felt just below the skin.

“I know it doesn’t.” he growled, burying his face in her soft hair and inhaling. Some things were meant to be.

As night fell, and the two young lovers, already on the cusp of the rest of their lives, filled the air with merriment and wicked laughter. A blanket was laid out, an idyllic picnic shared, and soon, food, drink and basket was discarded, as rough scuffles filled the dirt. A pair entwined in their hidden, secret place under the tunnel, beneath the stars. It didn’t matter that they walked home, faces streaked with brown earth, him suspiciously barefoot, her wearing his shoes. Nothing had broken, she had just stolen them while getting dressed, and had refused to give them back.

They smelled like sex, and Sid knew it. As they passed people in the streets, out for an early night’s stroll, or rushing to pick up the last of a million groceries from the deli, they were stared at. Stared at, just because they looked like, they gave off, an air that raised suspicion, that said they had been up to no good, or, for that matter, a whole amount of dubiously illegal fun.

Collapsing onto the bed that night, freshly showered and pale in the shining moonlight, two pale bodies rippled with laughter. Their hidden tunnel, their secret tunnel, their special place that no one passed after the dark started to set in. Their place to do as they pleased without regret, without the chance, ever, of being found out. Then they could run away after their business was complete, with no consequences, whatsoever. They were so lucky. So very lucky. And so they laughed, and laughed, and when the laughter drifted into sleep under the blankets, under the covers, there the two lovers lay, arm in arm, entwined together, complete, in every single way, possible. They had each other. They were lucky. They were in love. They were so, so, beautiful.
 
 
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