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Resurrection Blues	By : JackHawksmoor Category: DC Verse Comics > V for Vendetta Views: 2255 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own V for Vendetta, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Resurrection Blues
- 2-ch 2
- 3-ch3
- 4-ch4
- 5-ch 5
- 6-CH 6
- 4
- 5
- 6
Resurrection Blues

Ch 5

She pressed herself back against his chest, feeling small and vile. He took a sharp breath close to her ear, and his arms tensed around her, just for a second.

Evey froze, not certain if she'd woken him up. Then she felt his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you,” She said quietly, tilting her head toward him.

“It's all right.” His voice was drowsy and soft. She felt the smooth point of the nose of his mask brush the back of her head. It put a little shiver down the back of her neck. She took a deep breath, way down into the pit of her stomach, and turned in his arms.

He pulled his arms back away from her, but when she scooted closer to him he rested his hand on her shoulder. She reached up into darkness and felt the hard curve of his second face under her fingers. It was warm, leaching heat from his skin underneath. She stroked her fingers across it as if it was real, as if he could feel her hand on his cheek.

She might imagine from his reaction that he could. Some magical sixth sense. Everything that had happened to her since Finch had shown up at the train pointing a gun at her seemed strange and surreal enough to allow it.

V relaxed under the touch he shouldn't have been able to feel, and after a moment his hand started to make little circles on her back. It was soothing.

“Will you take it off?” she asked absently, trailing her fingers to the delicate corner of a carven mouth.

He was silent for a moment. She noticed now that he was awake he was holding his hips away from her, as if he was trying to protect her from something. She ran her thumb over the ripples on the porcelain surface that could only be his mustache and felt him inhale through the slit in the mouth of his mask.

He covered her hand with his, gently pulled it away.

“It would be best,” he began, but his rich voice had turned rough, and he had to stop and clear his throat. “It would be best not to become too accustomed to this.” It was a warning, but almost as if someone had whispered in her ear, she knew he wasn't talking to her. He went to speak again, apparently not having convinced himself.

She leaned over and pressed her mouth to the delicate painted curve of his lower lip. His hand came up and just barely touched her cheek. She nuzzled him like an affectionate cat. He let out a breath of nervous laughter.

She couldn't help but notice his hand was shaking.

“Please,” she said quietly, and kissed his palm. She felt him shiver a little.

He sighed into the darkness, and pulled his hand from hers. She heard the clink of a buckle easing its hold on a leather strap. Evey went to reach for his face but he knew, somehow he knew and caught her fingers. Reacting swiftly, Evey leaned in over her trapped hands.

She found his lips in the dark without faltering.

He moaned into her mouth like she'd hurt him somehow. It gave her a jolt, solid and warm, right down to her toes. He pulled back as if he'd felt it too, hissed in a breath through his teeth. He stroked rough fingers down her cheek, along the arch of her neck. His heart was pounding hard enough for her to feel it through his clothing and hers.

That lovely, marvelous heartbeat...

She put her fingers there, grinning like a child.

It was a curious function of time, that when they were together, everything seemed so...concentrated. As if they moved in slow motion, every gesture amplified, every action distilled for purity. It was as unnerving as it had been the day she noticed it, even more so, since she now found herself beginning to crave it. She loved the rumble of the thunder, the ozone snap of lightning in the air.

The way his hand slid over her shoulder and down her back. Finally coming to rest at the base of her spine, one of his fingers just barely dipping beneath the edge of her shirt to touch bare skin.

They sighed together at the sensation.

He'd let himself get distracted, let her get much closer. He was pressed quite noticeably into her thigh and she squirmed a bit against the feel of it.

V gasped when she moved, grabbed at her, as if to keep her still. Her hips were still free, so he didn't do a very good job of it. She pushed her hips forward, rubbing against him with a soft, pleased sound on her lips.

“Oh, god...” he said, a man on a fast-sinking ship.

He found her mouth in the dark that time, and showed that though he may have not had much schooling in that particular area of life, he was a quick study. He put his lips to work and kissed her so thoroughly, with such single-minded attention that she was hard put to get her breath.

She slid her hands up his shirt and laid her palm against the side of his bare face, only thinking of getting closer. When she felt the roughness and warmth of real skin she remembered why she shouldn't have.

V tensed and jerked back. He was breathing fast, and snatched at her hand, squeezing it uncomfortably.

For a moment they said nothing, silent and awkward in the darkness. She spent a minute working her fingers loose, and started to relax when V let her.

“It's just another mask. It isn't me,” he said gently.

They might have spent so much more time together before they got to it, Evey thought. She might have had time to put her thoughts together, somehow, in some magical way that wouldn't ruin everything...

She waited too long to speak. Tangled in the lie she would be hiding under if she let the comment pass by. It wasn't fair. He'd lied to her about so much, she ought to...

“Evey?”

“It doesn't matter,” she said quietly, her conscience snatching her heart up with both hands. “I've seen it already.”

“What?” the word was a puff of breath on the air. There was something about the quality of the sound that alarmed her. A ragged edge that made her heart sink.

“After-” good god, even now she couldn't say it without flinching, “ After I got you on the train I pulled you up, but the mask, it slipped, and I-”

He put his fingers over her lips to get her to stop speaking. She went quiet and waited, eyes wide, as the silence stretched. She could tell his mind was racing, and she could tell it was bad.

“No,” he said finally, “ no.” Just as before, she knew with awful certainty that he was not talking to her. He pushed away from her and sat up. He whispered something to himself that she couldn't understand and moved to get up off the bed. That frightened her more than anything else. A quiet little argument with himself.

“V-” She reached for his arm. It was a mistake. He smacked her hand aside and grabbed her by the shoulders. Hard.

“I was glad to be finished with life,” he said in a thick, harsh voice. Introducing her to the fact that she'd pushed him too much, and had him backed up into a place that just might be dangerous. “I was grateful for the end of thinking and *feeling*.” His voice turned horrible on the last word. He was shaking her a little bit now, and he sounded...he sounded like he was in pieces. She had the surreal and scary conviction that she was coming in during the middle of this. V versus the horrible things in V's head.

“I never wanted-” his marvelous voice failed him and she pushed at him, pushed at his chest to get away from that. Get away from having to think about that.

“Stop it, stop it, I don't want to hear this-”

“I never wanted the undiscovered country.” His voice was raw and she gritted her teeth to stop herself from crying, hating the tears as they spilled over her cheeks. He pulled her in close to him despite her best efforts. He was rough with her. “I never wanted-” his voice broke and he pressed his face against her neck, trying to calm himself enough for words.

It was curious to be the cause of so much of his suffering, while still being used as his personal talisman against the widening depths of madness. A curious and unpleasant little detail.

He was crying. He was crying on her.

At the sound of him all the fight went out of her. She found herself, somehow, clinging to him instead of pushing him away. She clutched at his shirt as if he would fly apart if she did not hold on to him.
When he continued, his voice was low and almost angry.

“I never wanted to have to feel this...” His voice was muffled against her neck, but she heard him.
Then he lifted his head, and held her face in his hands. She reached up and copied the gesture, surprising him. The skin on his face felt much the same as the skin on his hands. A little more delicate, maybe. It was almost like running her fingers over old lace.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers.

“It would be so much easier if I could hate you,” she sighed, stroking the strange whorls and delicate ridges of skin on the side of his face.

He froze at her words, and started to pull away, so she kissed him quick before he could. It was just enough, and when he spoke again his voice melted into heat.

“Oh, god, Evey...”

He crushed her to his chest and kissed her like he would die if he didn't.

She wanted to hate at him, for his rolling, uneven emotional landscape. She wanted not to go along for the ride, for once. She wanted to pull back and hate at him for making her feel too damn much. But he caught his breath, and she could feel that he was shaking, and her flash of resolve melted away like wet tissue.

They pressed their thighs toward one another, between one another. In a scarce handful of moments they were tangled together and desperate, but neither of them were thinking clearly enough to bother fumbling with clothing. He cupped her cheek in his hand, smearing half-forgotten tears back into the light fuzz of her hairline. His hand continued to move, across her scalp, down the back of her neck, fingers rippling over the texture of her spine until they were thwarted by cloth.

He did his best, then, to fuse the two of them into one person. She had seen his strength before. Felt the hard invulnerability beneath his leather gloves in the welts on her skin. She felt it again, and thought, for a moment, that he might actually be able to do it. Push two people together into something else.

It felt fantastic.

Quite clearly, as if reading the word from a favorite book, Evey thought, 'Clothes'.

She started shoving at her pants. V froze for a moment, but when his hand filled with flesh instead of cloth he warmed to the idea and started fumbling with her shirt. It was a delicate thing, as she liked, and he was stalled by little buttons. She kicked free of her pants before he was half through, and her hands, rather naturally, came to search at the front of his trousers.

He started to pant through his teeth, his fingers slipping on the little fastenings while her hands were busy insinuating themselves beneath layers of black cloth. The sound was gritty and cut off entirely as soon as she touched his skin.

His fingers froze and his breathing stopped.

She turned her hand within the small space, stroking his stomach with the backs of her fingers. He made a faint strangled sound and rested his hand over hers, stopping her.

“So calm,” he said, his voice rough. “Would that I could be so calm.”

“I don't mind a little passionate intensity,” Evey said with a smile. He hesitated, as if she'd said something wrong. Then he leaned in until he was breathing the words into her ear.

“'Turning and turning in the widening gyre, the falcon cannot hear the falconer'.” As if he was releasing the words from some terrible place. “'Things fall apart, the center cannot hold...'”

Here, see how ugly I am...

She quickly slid her hand low, and the recitation stopped as he choked in shock. She curled her fingers and held him, squeezing gently. He swelled and twitched in her palm.

“My...god...” He managed, seeming stunned by the feeling of being held in her hand. She liked that, she liked the sound of that much better and leaned in to kiss him. He didn't immediately respond to her, being distracted with other things. She bit his lip a little, holding it between her teeth and sucking.

His mouth came alive and his arms pulled tight around her. He even pushed against her hand a little. She rewarded him, hitching her leg up onto his hip and pulling herself close. He hissed in a breath and went still.

“Evey,” his voice was thick, “ I don't...I can't...” His hand caught her just under her thigh, and when she paused he held her there, trying to get hold of himself.

Surprised and pleased, she squirmed to get closer, until he was pressed against her. He was breathing hard, and he was wet, leaking pre-come onto her skin. He gasped at the contact and she realized with a thrill just how close he was.

“Oh...” His voice was soft with a razor's edge of anxiety. He tensed. Every part of him tensed, yearning towards her. A hot flush of blood warmed her inner thighs, and she stroked him again, knowing...

He moaned deep in his throat as he came, a rough, short noise that sounded as though it must have hurt his throat. His body jerked against her, spurting into her hand, onto her thigh. It went on for a long time, until he was left silent and twitching. When the last twitch left him he lay against her like a dead thing. Almost as though he were terrified of moving, of breaking the moment.

Delicately, she retrieved her hand.

“Have you,” her voice caught and she had to clear her throat. “Have you ever done this before?” She tried to be gentle in the asking.

There was no sign, no sound for a moment. Then, his face still pressed tightly against her shoulder, he shook his head a fraction of an inch. If she hadn't been able to feel it she would have had no hope of seeing it, not in full daylight on a clear day.

“I see,” she breathed. He wasn't relaxed. His manner was, in fact, as far from relaxed as it was possible to be. His muscles were like steel cords under her hands. She would have bet real money that something horrible was going on inside his head.

Enough...

Evey wiped her sticky fingers on the sheet, and slipped her hands up under the lip of his shirt. There was a thin, stretchy garment he was wearing beneath it. It had an odd, organic quality, and when she wiggled her fingers underneath it, it held her hand snugly up against his skin. She pressed on persistently, until both her arms were around him, touching his bare skin. The flesh was hard and soft at the same time, uneven in texture. Old lace.

Warm, though. Pleasant to be touching the rough skin, no matter how soft a silk shirt could be. She'd shoved his doublet up under his armpits without unfastening it. She wasn't sure how to get it undone, anyway. He let her do as she wished in silence. She felt him, though, felt the tension in his muscles start to drain away. She stroked his back under the cloth, almost petting him. Smoothing the hurt and fear right out. It was only a momentary solution, but he seemed to like it so well, just to be touched...

She did not know about his mind, but his body calmed. Like she was weaving some kind of spell. Breath and warmth and touch and love...

Evey stopped, startled by the matter of fact certainty in her own thoughts.

While she was distracted, V's hand came up and calmly, swiftly unfastened the rest of the buttons on her shirt. She leaned back from him, eyebrows climbing in surprise. Then he snaked his arms around her and pressed their bare torsos together. Evey made a pleased sound at the unexpected thrill of physical satisfaction. V sighed, and she was certain he was feeling it too. She continued to run her hand over his back, and she had to admit she liked it much better.

He inhaled in a way that made her think he was savouring the way she smelled. His breath was warm on her skin. He pressed his lips to the base of her neck, just at the point where her shoulder began. One kiss, and then his breath spread over her face as he pulled back.

“You deserve better,” He said sadly.

“Then kiss me somewhere else,” Evey said, lifting the words right out of the air like they were waiting for her. For a moment there was only his breathing, and hers. Then he touched her face.

“Ah,” he sighed. His other hand slid low, hesitating at the waistband of her underwear. Silently, she pressed her hip against his palm. He paused, processing her consent. Then his thumb slipped underneath the scrap of cloth and pulled it away from her skin. She wriggled against him as he parted her from the last of her clothing, and he made an interesting noise at the stimulation.

He placed a hand on her hip and pressed her back onto the bed, raising himself above her. She heard one of the books slide to the floor with a sigh and a thump. She ran her hands up his chest, pleased at the new angle. He liked the sensation well enough to remove his doublet and shirt to give her more freedom. She thought he might have torn the cloth trying to get out of it.

He kissed her, leaning down over her, his mouth moving urgently. The cloth of his trousers was textured and rubbed at her in a wonderful way. She parted her legs, her knees coming up on either side of him. She arched her back, trying to urge him closer to her.

He made a soft, choked sound into her mouth and pulled back a little, trailing his lips over her chin, tracing a path down the front of her throat.

The sensation was delicate, and when he turned his head at the last moment and bit her lightly on the shoulder, she nearly jumped out of her skin. He seemed to like giving attention to areas of her body she'd had no idea could be sexual, much less that she would enjoy it. He lingered over the line of her collarbone, touching with hands and mouth, pressing his lips to the thin skin there until she was nearly out of her mind. Then he moved down and found the under curve of her breasts, just where they began to rise from her torso, and paused there for a time, running his rough hands lightly over her nipples, tilting his head so he could get a better angle with his tongue.

She could feel then, what she hadn't had the wits to notice earlier. The wig had come off with his shirt. He had less hair than she did. Just like her.

Evey moved quickly, sliding her hand up his neck, spreading her fingers over the back of his head.
He moaned against her skin, and she felt the vibration of it travel along her ribcage. She had a sharp urge to pull him closer, but he caught her hand before she could do anything else, and pressed his lips to her palm. He held it curled against his face for a moment, as if urging restraint. Then he leaned down and kissed her right at the jut of her hipbone.

She had a wild thought...surely he didn't know to...

She wondered what he might have on his bookshelves that she hadn't seen.

V scooted lower, smoothing his hands over her, urging her legs further apart. He turned his head and bit her on the soft skin of her inner thigh.

Evey gasped, and V 'hmm'ed from his place between her legs, sounding pleased.

He kissed her, licked her lightly in a way that seemed calculated to drive her mad. She reached down blindly with both hands to curl around his head as he continued. He moaned again at the touch, and she felt the sound again, vibrating through her.

Evey choked, lifting her hips to him. He kissed her thoroughly, until she was sweating and gasping and pleading with him. Until she clawed all the pillows off the bed. He took his time, until finally he lifted himself away from her, rising up between her legs as she cried out for him to do something, anything, or she'd fly out of her skin.

He touched her gently, finding his way and she lifted her hips, helping him. He slid inside her, one smooth thrust. She came almost immediately, with that first shock of contact. He held still as she did, listening to her, feeling her. When she could think again, she listened to him breathing hard through his mouth. As if just the fact of her climax was too arousing to bear.

“True beauty...” he rasped into the darkness, so quietly she could barely hear him. He pushed into her again with a little shudder of pleasure. Once, and then again. He stiffened against her with a little moan of joy that was thrilling to the ears.
Evey took a moment, and caught her breath, stroking her hands up his arms. Half a laugh of pure relief slipped by her lips.

She heard him above her, heard a breathless half-laugh in response, and shut her eyes, grinning like an idiot.

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“Turning and turning in the widening gyre, the falcon cannot hear the falconer; things fall apart; the center cannot hold...”-William Butler Yeats
“Have I ever seen true beauty till this night?”-William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
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Resurrection Blues