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Venus blinks awake slowly, lazily; warmth the first thing her sleepy mind registers, as her eyes follow the late afternoon sun, rays of orange light caressing the dust particles of the trailers in a glittering dance. She can feel sweat sheen the curve of her back, her long hair sticking to it in a promise of chaos and tangles. She rolls over her stomach, basking in the sunlight, her body indulging in the light embrace of the sheets, her muscles sweetly sore with exertion, her skin tight and comfortably burned by summer heat.
Time stretches, sweet and sticky like molasses, and it fills V with a sense of radiance, inexplicable peace, comfort. She blinks, light catching in her wet lashes, a drop of sweat leaving a trail of salt on her nape. She feels her lungs expand and feels herself full of thick bliss, the scent of sex seeping into her bones, like tequila aftertaste sweet on her tongue.
It feels familiar now, Randy's unoccupied room, the trailer park, the metal sheets on the roof creaking and popping under the heat, the scent of fried food, spices and sand. It reminds her of home, of the badlands, of family. It's enough to lull her to sleep again, one blink leading to another, to minutes passing slowly.
Johnny showing himself feels like a buzz, or maybe a memory of one, a phantom shiver, a fingerless caress. It used to feel like too much, too little; stringing pieces of her and him together when they were both sharp, broken edges. But sand and heat and love and time smoothed them, something quieter, stronger, and V smiles at the feel of him, his quiet fire a welcome addition to the cozy room.
Her eyes open lazy and sweet, bathing in the luxury of it all. The low, smoldering sun paints him in warm hues where he leans by the window, and it may not be real -her mind piecing together sense where there isn't- but she cannot phantom being able to imagine something so beautiful, and it's a soft lining of hope to think there's more to this than pure matter, a destiny drawn purely for this, for them.
The corner of his mouth tilts in a half-smirk, amused by her thoughts, certainly, but there's a comfort in that too, in all that she isn't but he is -daring, ready to defy fate in ways she couldn't-, and she loves him for it. She loves him for so many things.
"Hi" she whispers, rough with sleep, tender, adoring.
"Hi" he answers, dry and warm and loving like the summer sun.
Crickets start to chip as the sunset approaches, and Venus yawns, licks the salt from her lips, sees Johnny's eyes follow the movement.
She rolls over for him, to show him. The growing, warm penumbra sets orange lights and purple shadows on everything, over the curves of her naked body and the paint of her tattoos. The skin and hair between her legs are still damp, sweat and pleasure curling around the memory of River inside of her, so she brings her hand down to caress herself, fingers drawing circles, slow like blowing air on embers.
Johnny and her don't need touch, not really, not with how strung together they are, not when he has the taste of her need on his lips for every moan of hers, not when she shivers at the sole presence of him.
It's still bittersweet, how wanton they are for more of the other, always, how he wishes he could lose himself in the sandalwood scent of her skin, how his fingers long for the caress of her brown hair. She pictures his lips on her, his weight inside her, and coaxes more pleasure out of her mound, a rhythm echoing his breathing, his gaze.
Her legs spread, blooming, answering their joined hunger like the tide answers the moon. She opens for him, rosey with dew and sweat and want, a fruit her fingers know blindly, but for Johnny to admire. He kneels on the bed with her, laying a kiss on her forehead that leaves her skin abuzz. He palms himself as her folds wet, the pads of her index and middle finger teasing her hole so that he can feel it twitch through their bond. He moans, soft and loud in the quiet of the room, a secret only for V's ears to hear. She clenches around her dribbling pleasure, sighing a song for her lover, sweet and full of tender longing, as she accompanies his want with hers.
The streetlights turn on, bathing the world in yellows; stray beams falling on the cooling linoleum of the trailer, filling the air with the buzzing of neon and mosquitoes. V curls around the phantom shape of Johnny, his eyes dark and warm. His hand caresses her flank, the sheet wrapped around her hips. It's barely there, the illusion of it sweet like a promise. For more days together, for more days like these.
"When is the hunk back?" drawls Johnny, voice bored as his usual, hands gentle on her skin.
She is too lazy to turn back and check the time, too lost in the sight of him. "Soon."
"He better improve his fucking. You are too fucking horny."
"But that's why I have two of you," her tone betrays her smile, teasing and adoring.
His smile is a bit crooked for a moment, soft but sad, his eyes losing themselves on the dark ceiling. It's over in a -shared- heartbeat, and Venus wishes she could take his hand, but maybe that would be worse, and she loves this sweet summer too much to give it up on maybes. So she wraps her mind in love, satisfaction, with the taste of heat and sex and dust, lets it seeps through their bond until Johnny's shoulders relax, lulled by the crickets' love song.
"Go shower. You stink."