theplatonicnonyeah: (mr1)
[personal profile] theplatonicnonyeah
This is my second entry in the fanfiction competition on Matthew Rhys Online.
This story is based on The Americans.
It is based on the character Philip Jennings in FX Network's show The Americans.
I own nothing and can take no credit for the invention of the original character.



A beautiful feeling

It’s not that it isn’t satisfying. But it’s more like sneezing than anything else. It provides a quick and temporary release. Afterwards he can hardly remember it.

He knows women’s bodies well. He knows what they like and where they want to be touched. Some prefer it rough and quick, others need more warming up before they let him inside. But to him it is all mechanics, like a dance. Sometimes he keeps time, playing music in his head. Then suddenly he is interrupted by a loud moan and jerked back into the reality of it.

He watches their faces as he brings them over the edge. Then he let’s go of himself for a few seconds.

He wonders if it’s the same for Elizabeth. What does she think about to get herself in the mood? Or does she approach it with the same calculated clarity she uses to decipher a new coded instruction for another assignment? Maybe some of the men she has to have sex with are good and take care to satisfy her too. The thought fills him with anger. There is an uneasy possessiveness beginning to build up inside him. He doesn’t want to recognise it, so he pushes it aside and moves on.

He could never tell if Elizabeth enjoyed it with him. It was so long ago now that they stopped doing it with each other.

With her it was always silent. She didn’t resist him, but she didn’t initiate it either. If he tried to find a word to describe it, it would be ‘accommodating’, which didn’t sound very exciting. She seemed locked in her own world, far away. It was as if she just obliged him out of a sense of duty. And perhaps she was thinking of the motherland, hoping he would finish soon so she could go back to sleep.

He wanted to reach into her soul, touch her heart. But she remained closed. There was nothing unfriendly about. It was just distant, like a glass wall between them.

Sometimes lying beside her in bed at night, listening to her breathing, he would imagine what it would feel like if she turned to him, welcoming his embrace. He longed for that intimacy, a true closeness of two people who trusted each other. Because despite everything, he trusted her, even though he couldn’t tell if she felt the same for him. Often she would scold him for being too emotional about a mission, too sensitive about other people’s feelings when he should be focusing on the greater good.

But when he lay there beside her he would sometimes carefully place his fingertips against her naked shoulder, feeling the soft warm skin, the pulse underneath. Once he even dared to place his lips there, but she almost immediately stirred and moved away from him.

Occasionally, it happened that he would let himself fall for a woman, just a little, even though he knew it was dangerous. He would pretend that he was living a normal life, being a normal man dating normal women. He made sure never to let it on, least of all to Elizabeth. Although sometimes he could sense a hint of jealousy in her comments about a particularly pretty honeytrap target and it would almost fill him with a sense of pride. Perhaps it meant that she did care for him.

He knew his heart was opening up to Elizabeth. It came to him one Sunday morning when her laughter suddenly filled the kitchen. She looked straight at him, meeting his eyes without inhibition, not immediately looking away. This face he hardly ever saw. She rarely even showed it to Paige or Henry. Her laughter filled his body with a warm glow that lingered the rest of the day. Later he couldn’t even remember what was so funny it had made her laugh that way.

This new feeling that was building a nest inside him also filled him with an icy cold fear whenever she was late coming back from a mission. He would lay awake listening to the sounds of the house, waiting for her to unlock the door and tiptoe carefully up the stairs past the children’s rooms.

Sometimes when she came home after these late evenings her face would be like a frozen mask. He wanted to place his palm against her cheek and caress the stony features soft again. But she always turned her back to him as she silently got into bed beside him.

So he continued to hide it deep inside himself, savouring the morsels of kindness she would throw his way every now and then. Hoping maybe one day she would grow to trust him too and let him love her.

October 2014

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