Part 2: Almost

The prompt: 600 words or less, someone has to tell a joke, someone has to cry.

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"Hey there, handsome." She smiled prettily and sat by him, laying her head comfortably against his chest. "How you doin'?"

Closing his eyes, he stroked her hair familiarly. "Better now."

He could hear the curious note in her voice. "Something wrong?"

He laughed a little, "Isn't there always?" God she's soft. He didn't stop stroking her hair. "How about you?"

She snuggled closer, grinning. "Well, today I saw this guy moping on a couch for no good reason..."

He raised an eyebrow, letting her continue.

She shifted lower against him, her tone casual. "He looked really blue, so I blew him."

His eyes popped open with shock.

"Just like... this!" With a flourish she lifted shirt and blew a wet raspberry on his stomach. He burst out laughing, playfully trying to push her away as she tortured him. The loud, wet presses of her lips against his skin made him writhe a little in their playful grappling, her hands on his shoulders to keep him against the couch. One of his hands locked in her hair, pulling her back for a second, but she simply scooted closer and kept up the raspberry assault, her laugher joining his.

He tried to steel his laughter as they struggled, pushing and without real success. If he could just catch a brea-AH!

That was her tongue! And- AH!-that's my bellybutton!

Steeled he was not. He laughed harder as her tongue flicked arythmically alongside her lip's barrage, trying to get off the couch before he acted on impu- 

CRACK

And then he flashed away.

In a way, it was the same. Her lips pressed to his, sounds of pleasure filling the room. Their arms were tight around each other, fighting for control with labored breath and a struggling tongue.

In all others, it wasn't. Their arms pulled one closer to the other, long pent-up intensity breaking through in the kiss. Their tongues met eagerly, her nails raking over his back through his shirt. Heat filled him, and he pinned her to the wall, biting her bottom lip hungrily. A low rumble in his throat, he spoke one word. "Mine..."

"-r? Answer me, what's wrong? Say something!" He saw her dark face as it was rather than what it could be, turning from flushed to pale. Dark, lidded eyes became wide with concern. Kiss-swollen lips grew less full. She was kneeling over him; a hand on his cheek, thumbing it softly.

He raised a hand quietly to halt her questions, head screaming bloody murder. She grabbed it tightly, fingers entwined with his. Her voice was soft. "Are you okay? You hit the wall and weren't answering and..." Her eyes flicked to his face, and he realized the unfamiliar heat was his own tears burning his face.

He swallowed, his tight throat protesting. He felt like he had to force the words out. "I'm okay. I was... I was just... dreaming."

She squeezed his hand. "I've never seen you cry. What kind of dream would…" Hold her. 

He sat up slowly, slouched against the wall. A part of him noticed that she didn't let go of his hand. "I had... I had a really good dream. It was so vivid..." Kiss her.

She said nothing, just tilting her head curiosly.

Their eyes met...

Take her.

And he smiled.

"It's time I showed you."