Edinburgh

Edinburgh

Disclaimer – This is all made up. False. I don’t own any of the folks mentioned, nor do I make a profit from this piece of fiction. Thanks.

Pairing - Alan/Sigourney

Summary – she always knew she shouldn’t fall for him…

Rating – NC/17, probably

Author’s note – Named ‘Edinburgh’ for the Snow Cake premier at Edinburgh International film fest in Scotland. I speculate… *shrug* …also, for those who were looking for some HET from me, here ya go. Please read and review – I always like to hear what people think, good or bad.


It's not long after midnight as two actors stare into the fireplace of a luxury suite, contemplating circumstance and other mysteries of the universe as she turns to him. Her smile is warm, and he can feel it, as potent as the fire before him. He keeps his face neutral as she speaks.

"You're thinking of her."

He doesn't move an inch, not even to quirk an eyebrow. He simply waits. Of course she's right.

"You can be honest with me, Alan. But even if you're not, I know the truth."

"Then, I'd say, you have an unfair advantage over me." His honey voice sounds rough, as if it hadn't been used in months.

"How so?" She inquires softly.

He takes a long contemplative pause. "I don't have a clue where your thoughts are, and yet you seem able to read me like a book."

"No." She shakes her head, the dark locks falling over her shoulder. "I give in to my perceptions. I can tell you're miles away from here."

"Perhaps." He muses, more to himself than anyone.

"I like spending time with you." She says, almost apologetic. "And I can't stop talking to you."

He smiles, finally, the skin near his eyes crinkling slightly. "And I like the sound of your voice." He turns to look at her in the dim firelight, taking in the sight of her thin frame in a Vera Wang cocktail dress and her long legs crossed at the knee. She's lean and yet somehow perfectly proportioned and fit. She's incredible at her age, a goddess. Alan continues to stare, knowing he can.

"Do you want to be here?" She asks him pointedly, looking at him expectantly.

His face looks pained as he considers his reply. "Come here."

She hesitates. "Don't feel obligated to seduce me…"

"Don't be ridiculous." He says in his sexy agitated voice, a sound that sends a tremor through the woman's tall frame.

She stands and saunters slowly towards him, feigning disinterest. In actuality, she's been waiting forever to get into his arms, but Alan is temperamental and occasionally plagued with guilt. He could change his mind and let her down easy at the last minute. He might gently insult her for her presumptuousness. Why should he resort to adultery? Why should he test the limits of their friendship when it’s so incredibly comfortable the way it is - like the oldest filthiest slippers you've ever owned - like a dirty little secret?

She's within inches of him, long pale arms dangling at her sides, as he stands before her, nearly face-to-face. She's one of the few women he hasn't had to talk down to. She's the perfect height for him.

And then, suddenly, she's in his arms, against him, feeling his warmth. His hands are large and firm on her, expressive. Her face is against his shoulder and her fingers are sliding through his hair, through gray and blond, thick silky flyaway tresses. He smells lovely and he feels so good against her, hard and pliant all at once. He's the sweetest man she has ever known - and yet he instills a certain fear inside her. She knows he could flee at any time, not discarding her, not exactly - but maybe moving on. He has epiphanies like that all the time, even in spite of his unwavering loyalty.

"Don't let go." She hears herself whisper, hating the desperation in her voice.

"I didn't intend to." He murmurs, brushing his lips against her prominent clavicle and up to her mandible. He loves her body, the porcelain skin pulled taut over what seems to be nothing but bone. The only meat on her is due to age. Otherwise, she's in the best shape of her life - rivaled only with back when she was playing Ripley for the second or third time.

"Get me out of this dress." She whispers, and he looks at her and smiles, loving how forward she is.

"No. I don't think so. Not yet." He replies, toying with her hair, admiring the clean soft feel of it sliding through his fingers. He likes a woman's hair, the shape and style of it, the weight of it tangled in his digits. He also enjoys the smell of this woman, like some light understated flower, honeysuckle, mint…

His mouth is on her skin, sliding the strap off her bony shoulder as she watches him with hooded eyes. She knew it would be good, their first time, but she never thought she would anticipate it so badly. Her knees are faltering when he rests his hand lightly against the small of her back, barely there. She needs more - and it's his nature to take his time. God, she'll die waiting for him.

"Alan…" she speaks his name, liking the roll of it off her tongue, liking the intimacy of her inflection.

He pauses to have a look at her, calm hazel eyes on warm brown ones. "Would you like me to take you to bed or…"

"Yes. God." Her hand links with his and she leads him back to the master bedroom, kicking off her black Italian Leather pumps on the way.

But halfway there, he tugs her towards him with enough force to take her breath away and presses his mouth to hers, pressing her body against the wall. Her hands are trapped in his, fingers linked, above her head as he kisses her passionately. That's another thing about Alan, she has noticed; he will only surrender command briefly, long enough to calculate ways to get it back.

Her hands are in his hair again and she doesn't waste time thinking about what a mistake this might be, or about whom this will hurt. It's just a moment in time, something she'd felt she'd needed - and she didn't twist his arm. He'd invited her here to his suite, to talk, to share a drink, to share some laughs. Why shouldn't it go farther than that? Why shouldn't she admit she loves him? Both of their respective partners are far enough away (geographically, at least) that it shouldn't matter… at least not to her…

His hands are releasing her wrists and sliding the straps off her shoulders, his gaze intense as she watches him and she reaches, blindly, for the light switch, to turn it off - but his hand comes over to grasp hers.

"Leave it on." He commands softly, sending electric pulses throughout her body.

"I want it off." She challenges, squirming playfully in his arms.

"I want it on, and my word is law." He holds her tighter to him, making her gasp excitedly. "Don't push me."

She laughs at him. "Sorry. Your evil European accent doesn't scare me. I already know you're a teddy bear."

He nods, half smiling. "Indeed? Would a teddy bear do this?" And with his free hand, he reaches beneath her dress to caress the warm damp place between her legs, feeling soft hair on his palm. He arches one elegant eyebrow as she whimpers, a high-pitched, staccato trill in the back of her throat.

"No knickers?" His deep voice is a tease.

She lets her head fall back as his fingers slide beneath her silken folds.

"W-we don't wear t-those…" Her voice dissolves into a low moan as he lets his finger go a bit deeper.

"I see." He smirks, letting his digit move in lazy circles inside her and she lets him lift her off the ground so one of her legs is draped around him and his free hand is beneath her ass, holding her up. An easy task for him - and beneficial. More access, better leverage. She moans low in her throat as he slides deeper, still.

"God…" she bites her lip to keep from crying out.

"You like this?" He whispers against her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze in the light, glad for the light so that he may watch as her white skin flushes pink from arousal. "Tell me if you like this."

Her eyes flutter shut as he drives her closer towards the brink, using the pad of his hand to cup her there while his finger begins a steady insistent rhythm.

"Tell me." He persists.

"Yes, goddammit…" Her chest heaves as she begins to move her hips against him, shamelessly fucking his hand.

"Good." He smirks, adding another finger and creating a nice friction that has her clawing at his shoulders and back through his blazer, her body sliding up and down against the wall. "I want you to dirty my hand."

"Oohh…" she groans, letting the sound of his voice help her towards completion. "…Christ, Alan…faster…"

"Yes, love…" He complies, kissing her cheek, her lips, her neck.

Her body suddenly goes taut as she rides his hand, getting nearer and nearer to heaven, her eyes unfocused and her lips pursed as he feels her start to shudder. Her head is thrown back against the wall as the tremors go through her, turning her to liquid and Alan doesn't stop what he's doing to her until she's limp and feeling the aftershocks in her abdomen.

Releasing her, he lets her slide down the wall and he holds her in his arms.

"Are you alright?" He asks her gently, stroking her hair, feeling her strong fast heartbeat against his chest.

She looks up at him, smiling weakly. "Yes. More than alright." Her hand finds its way into his hair again. "I am smitten."

He half-smiles, but its melancholy as she touches his face. "Smitten…" He repeats.

"It's alright." She says, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. "You don't feel the same. I understand."

"That's not it at all." He says, frowning. "You know what it is…"

She nods, hugging him. "Yes. I know."

He allows this for several seconds before pulling back to look at her. "Are you having regrets?"

Her grin is sly. "Never. I don't believe in it."

"Good." He says, bending his head to kiss her neck. "Because you taste incredible."

She laughs softly, caressing his chest through his shirt. "I want to get you out of these clothes."

He continues to kiss and lick her skin, ignoring her but for a soft grunt.

"Did you hear me, Alan?" She lifts her head so that he may suckle on her pulse point, his tongue laving her skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

"How long have you wanted to get me out of my clothes?" He asks, pushing her dress down a bit to nibble at the soft area just above her breasts.

"Do you really want to…mmm…know?" she rests her hands on his head as he dips lower to nuzzle the valley between her breasts.

"Mmm…" He answers, cupping both globes in his palms, using his thumbs to brush the nipples through what little fabric is still covering them.

"Since Galaxy Quest…" she whispers, as he raises his head to look at her.

"What? That long?"

She makes a face, flushing. "This is why I wanted the light off. So you couldn't see me turning colors."

"Don't change the subject." He says, regarding her. "Why did you never tell me?"

She snorts. "Right. What was I supposed to say?"

He shrugs. "Something would have sufficed."

Her face feels warm as she hugs him around his neck. "I knew you were involved. It didn't matter what I wanted."

He considers her, brushing hair away from her face. "Why is now any different?"

She doesn't answer, but he continues to gaze into her intense brown eyes. She's normally so direct, so purposeful and no-nonsense. Now, however, she looks almost shy, afraid to speak. He touches her face, his mind already miles away from what they have just done. It's as if they are meeting for the first time. Her love is palpable in her eyes, but he knows she won't say what she's thinking.

He brings his face in close and closes his mouth over hers, kissing her gently as she gasps.

Her hands absently begin to undo the buttons on his shirt, exposing his chest to the cool air in the room. He's pale and solid, mostly hairless where her hands traverse the bare expanse. He watches her hands as they rid him of his garments, her fingers trembling slightly. She gets on her knees to undo his pants, but he stops her.

"Siggy…"

Her brown eyes meet his in the light, so much emotion between them - more than they can write off with a simple smirk or pat on the back. She wants him so badly, her heart is slamming angrily in her ribcage, and it hurts her to think he only mildly entertains the thought.

"I want to." she whispers, her face intense. And in her thoughts, she adds, 'If only for tonight'.

His face is inscrutable as he nods slowly, and she continues the task of unzipping his pants and running her hand along his thigh, trying to show some restraint but finding it extremely difficult. He's wearing boxers, dark blue satin ones and she hesitates before caressing the bulge beneath. He continues to watch her, almost clinically, his eyes murky and intense. Her hand is over him, learning him through a thin silk barrier, the curve of him, the weight of him. He exhales slowly, to let her know he's even alive, and she smiles warmly, glad he's being so accommodating.

And then, before she can bring him into the open, he is pulling her up against him, his grasp rough and intense. He seems to be glaring at her angrily, his jaw set, and Sigourney is afraid… but then, slowly, their lips gravitate closer until their tongues are flowing together, sending shockwaves of arousal into the pit of her abdomen.

His hands are yanking the dress the rest of the way off her body and she’s standing before him, completely bare, the light glistening across her long white body. She’s caressing his head absently as he bends over her to kiss and lick at her chest, teasing the dark area surrounding her peaked nipples, and then the hard nips themselves, tugging them between his teeth as she clenches her eyes shut and clings to him.

The longer they stay together, the fiercer this becomes, his hands more insistent, her breath coming in quick rasps. She’s whimpering as he pulls her hard against him, their hips aligning as feels his arousal pressing against her inner thigh, almost exactly where she wants him.

“Th-the bedroom…the b-bed, Alan…”

He holds tight to her wrists and she marvels at the fire in his eyes as he tugs her with him into the master suite. They are tumbling together onto the bed and he is trailing hot hands across her skin, leaving a tingling sensation, tiny points of electricity congregating in her center. His hands are feeling between her thighs, two fingers inside her, hazel eyes gone black with lust staring right to the heart of her, and she must turn her face away, too intense.

“What is it?” His deep voice is passionate and full as his eyes search her face.

“Nothing…” she whispers, reaching for him. “…don’t stop.”

His smile is slow. “Soon, I won’t be able to anyway…”

She grins. “Is that a promise?”

He licks his lips before bending over her close, kissing her mouth hard as her hands slide his boxers down his hips, him rising up slightly to accommodate her. And soon, he is resting between her thighs, holding himself up on his elbows, kissing her mouth as she guides him to her entrance.

Arching her back, she wraps her legs around his waist, biting her lip as he fills her up, his eyes shutting as he bites his lip, getting used to this new body beneath him and the way he seems to fit her like a glove. She’s trembling as he starts his rhythm above her, slow in, at an angle, so deep, God, so deep, then out, almost completely…

Her hands are sliding up and down his lightly muscled back as he drives her closer and closer, her walls gripping and releasing him, causing him to wince in pleasure. Her love for him is making it feel even more incredible, making her feel metaphorically one with him, their bodies acting as a vessel for the words they don’t say, the emotions she can’t express, not without hurting herself, exposing herself.

“God…Alan…God…”

“Yesssss….” His teeth are clenched as he rides her body harder and harder, his hips becoming more and more rigid as they reach the peak together, and her eyes are rolling back inside her head as the friction he creates drives her off the precipice.

She howls something inarticulate, her leg rising higher as the orgasm rips through her body, and he moves above her, trembling above her and inside her, filling her with his liquid soul, his essence. Her thoughts teeter on the morbid as she imagines never cleaning herself again, always carrying him around with her, inside her forever. And then she shuts her eyes, hating that little voice in her head that borderlines the insane.

When he collapses on top of her, she can feel his heartbeat strong and fast against her, pounding through them both, in cadence with her own. She knows he won’t notice the tears mingling with the sweat, her eyes red in the dim light, the sob just inside her throat, not daring to break through. Is this the last time? Will he even look at her?

“Siggy…” He murmurs into her hair, pushing up to look at her, to link eyes with her.

Her smile is feeble and feels false on her face. She never realized it could be so good with him. She’d always hoped, but she didn’t dare expect it. Her arms drape around his shoulders as he touches her face, their breathing still uneven and harsh.

“I love you.” She says, her voice odd to her own ears, weak, pathetic.

He kisses her lips chastely, a statement, and an apology.

“I know.”


FIN