Disclaimers: Don't belong to us, we're just borrowing, and will return one day... maybe... or not...
Notes: Self-beta'd, and well, it had to be done, didn't it? And thanks to 'she-who-will-not-be-named-for-fear-of-losing-her-insanity-by-virtue-of-having-her-name-associated-with-a-gen-fic-otherwise-known-as-the-paw-trodden-owner-of-a-certain-siamese-amongst-other-things' for the lovely shower image that kept us dribbling all day... and night...
It's a hot sunny day near RAF Manston, on a quiet country road, when I come out of my stunned daze; yellow cornfields abound, interspersed with small groves of lush green trees motionless in the still air.
My car skidded on a patch of oil and landed nose first in a ditch and I count myself lucky that I was driving slowly, enjoying the countryside. I'm unhurt, but feeling a little dizzy and weak with shock. I reach for my mobile, but it's not working, apparently in a dead spot so I clamber out of my car, stumbling toward the road, hoping for a signal.
My attention is drawn from my mobile by the rumbling engine of an army truck that pulls up near me. The driver stays in the cab as the passenger, an American marine dressed in combats and a sweat stained olive green t-shirt, jumps lithely from the passenger side, dogtags clinking against his well-muscled chest.
He smiles shyly, displaying the cutest dimples and offers to help. Feeling faint, I accept and lean against a tree, watching as he ties a rope from my tow bar to the truck. The truck over revs noisily, but my car doesn't budge.
The marine strips off his t-shirt and with laughing blue eyes, throws it at me playfully and I catch it, his scent washing over me, unable to take my gaze off that beautiful, perfectly formed torso. He slides into the ditch, mud mingling with the sweat over his body, well-defined muscles clearly straining and undulating as he works to free my car. At last, my car slowly sucks free of the muddy ditch, the marine hopping back and pulling himself out of the ditch with agile, supple movements. He walks with cat-like grace towards me, his mud and sweat slicked chest and stomach glistening in the hot sun, the silver hard-edged metal of the dogtags on their thin chain contrasting with the soft tanned smooth skin. He asks me in that soft drawl if he can give me a tow to the nearest garage.
But my voice won't work.
He reaches out for his t-shirt and I fall into those big blue eyes, drowning, dizzy, breathless. Strong arms catch me and hold me close, dogtags snagging in my hair as I fall...
...I awaken slowly to the distant sound of running water, and open my eyes to find myself lying on a strange couch in a strangely spartan room. Memories of the accident come flooding back, and I try to sit up - too quickly, the movement sending my head spinning dizzily again. I lie there, breathing deeply to calm myself, but the unmistakably masculine smell of the place brings a vivid picture of my blue-eyed saviour springing to my mind, my senses matching it to the scent of him.
Curiosity roused, I rise slowly and leave the room, following the splashing sound down the corridor to the bathroom. I peer round the door cautiously, but there is no one in sight so I move a little further into the room and stop dead in my tracks. Ahead of me, through the water-spattered frosted glass of the shower-cabinet, I see the outline of a powerfully shaped body and I know instinctively who I am watching. Another wave of dizziness approaches, but I know this one cannot be blamed on my accident. Heart beating furiously, I am rooted to the spot as I watch the smooth movements of the tantalisingly obscured figure as he washes the mud and sweat from his torso.
The moment is broken as I hear the water shut off suddenly, and on bare feet I scurry back to the couch. My heart is still pounding and a flush comes to my cheeks as I lie back down, seeing again the image of him behind my closed eyes. When I open my eyes again, my saviour is standing in the doorway, dressed only in grey sweat pants, dogtags clinking against his smoothly naked chest, the muscles of his broad shoulders bunching and rippling as he rubs at his short damp hair with the towel in his hand. Seeing me awake he smiles broadly, dimples making a welcome reappearance and blue eyes full of pleasure. He comes into the room, asking how I'm feeling, but his very presence makes it difficult for me to reply, so breathless am I. I see the way the grey fabric moulds itself to the outlines of his tight hips and sculpted thighs, and I have difficulty dragging my eyes back to his face.
Concern touches the strong lines of his features, obviously seeing through my gasping assurances that I'm fine, just a little disoriented from the earlier crash, but still unaware of the real reason for my dazed condition. He leaves me, telling me he'll be right back, and I struggle to push away the disappointment as I wait impatiently for his return. He comes back into the room carrying a glass of water, and I note the way the loose sweatpants have slipped a little lower on his hips, accentuating the marvellously defined contours of his upper body. I gulp for breath as he moves to sit down easily beside me, offering me the water, but my hands are shaking too much from the impact his nearness is having on me. He leans closer, placing one gentle hand on my back to support me and holding the glass in the other for me to drink from, and I tentatively wrap my hand over his, jumping at the spark that sends racing through me.
As I sip slowly, he speaks quietly to me, explaining what happened, that my car is safely in the local garage, that he'd brought me here as it was close, and his hopes that I wasn't too frightened by my strange awakening. My heart thuds relentlessly, pulse thundering in my ears as I raise my head to indicate I have drunk enough and turn to look up at him, trying to convey without words that I am anything but frightened. He moves away slightly to place the glass on the table, and my skin cries out in protest at the loss of contact with his. He turns back, eyes catching mine, staring deeply, a tiny frown playing between the straight eyebrows, but I see the confusion clear to reveal a glimmer of understanding and - could it possibly be? - passion.
He asks diffidently if he could, should call me a taxi so I can get home. With unaccustomed boldness, driven by this incomprehensible but undeniable need to be close to him, I blurt out that I'd rather stay, horrified by my temerity but incapable of stopping myself. For long seconds I watch the play of emotions across his face, losing myself in the fiery depths of the ice blue pools, hoping I'm correct in what I think I can see there, but in the end I am unable to hold his gaze. Eyes closed, breath held captive by the tightness of my chest, I wait with fluttering heart for him to send me away, tell me I've made a mistake. But instead, after what seems an eternity, I hear the gentle clink of the dogtags as he moves towards me, strong arms catching me, holding me close to the warmth and power of his body. Raising my lips instinctively to meet the full softness of his mouth, I look up again into those big blue eyes, drowning, dizzy, breathless...
FINIS
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