#hunterbird

for @swifteforeverandalways​

Song: “Breathe” by Faith Hill, 1999 Word Count: 422 Link:  Ao3, Caught Up in the Touch

His breath was warm on her neck.  Warm, not hot.  Just perfect.  Bobbi wanted this moment to last forever. Because she and Lance did moments like this better than any other.  These stolen moments were few and far between, but there was nothing even they could do to ruin them in their brevity.  

She let her hands drag up the hard ridges of muscle on his back, dipping and rising with the contours.  The warmth of his skin and the rise and fall as he breathed against her.  She tightened her legs around his waist when he shifted, unwilling to let him go just yet.  

He chuckled, pushing up on his elbows to gaze down at her.  His fingers brushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her head.  She reached up to run her fingers through his hair, smiling at the way he closed his eyes and preened, just like a cat, whenever she did this.   

She loved him.  Of course she loved him.  She loved him like this, quiet and calm…wrapped around each other as the heady bliss of sex still enveloped them.  

And she loved him the rest of the time too.  When they were at each others’ throats.  When they were arguing.  

Bobbi had loved Lance for so long.  Even when he doubted her.  Even when he thought she didn’t.  Even when he thought he didn’t.  

She inhaled his scent, masculine and strong.  She closed her eyes and tried to recall every feature.  Every part of him.  Commit it to memory, because knowing them, this was all temporary and it was all going to fall apart any minute.  

Any minute was not right now, though and Bobbi wanted this…this right now to last forever.  

He moved though, shifted to kiss her as he pulled away from her, rolling over to go to the bathroom. Bobbi gathered up the sheets to cover herself, moving over on her side to await his return.  Lance did come back, pulling on a pair of boxers and sliding back into bed.  He reached for the remote and turned on the television.  

“Requests?” he asked, peering down as Bobbi slithered over to his side of the bed, wrapping herself around him once more.  

She shook her head.  “Nope.  Dealer’s choice.”  

Lance smirked.  “Have it your way, Love.”  

Good question…to be honest, I do call him Lance–but that’s usually when we’re off the clock and having real conversations. Makes it a little more special, I suppose.

Went on a mission in Dubai with Mack…and there was Lance Hunter. I think the sun fried my brain…don’t know what I saw in that Brit. ;)