Disclaimer I: I'm feeling somewhat guilt about posting this, which is why I've held out for over a month since it started swirling around in my head. I am apprehensive because this really isn't about a pair of television characters at all, but rather about the real people who play them and their personal lives together. But obviously I didn't feel guilty enough to not put pen to paper. The very fact you're reading this says what a shady character I am.
Disclaimer II: I am and always will be 150 percent EO, although I have incredible appreciation for the work that's been done since CM's departure. Please don't perceive this piece as anti-EO. Proceed at your own risk.
1:06 a.m. Thursday, December 3, 2015
As her driver turned the corner off of Columbus Avenue, she hit "send" on what she promised herself would be her final Tweet of the night and let her head lull back against the headrest of the large black SUV. She seemed to spend way too much time in vehicles just like this one, and while she often struck up pleasant conversations with her drivers, she sometimes resented spending more time with them than her own family.
Even though it was another night she wouldn't be seeing her babies off to bed, she was happy to be mere moments from home after an especially long day. As soon as she stepped through the large oak doors of their brownstone and into the living room, she knew. He was standing there as if he'd been awaiting her arrival, a glass of white wine in his hand and a predatory look in his eyes. The look wasn't entirely unfamiliar, but one she'd seen far too infrequently in the recent years since their household had expanded from three members to five and she'd become a triple threat in the workplace. It was a look that told her tonight wasn't any other night.
"Hey," she said slowly and cautiously, drawing the word as she met his gaze.
The flannel of his low-slung pajama pants brushed over the tops of his bare feet as he stepped toward her, laced his empty hand into the back of her hair and pressed a firm loving kiss to her forehead. "Hi," was all he whispered in a voice that seemed to grow deeper as it wafted down from his height to hers.
The ample lift of her red suede stiletto heels gave her five added inches of height to see over his shoulder into the darkened living room. It wasn't unlike him to wait up for her - even though tonight she'd arrived home especially late - but he usually did it nestled into the corner of their sectional while watching the late national news. Tonight the TV was off, as were all the lights, and he was clearly ready for bed.
"How'd it go here tonight?" she asked, looking up through his dark-rimmed glasses and into his piercing blue-green eyes.
"Good," he offered without hesitation. "Three for three. They're all asleep. No issues."
She gave him a tired, satisfied smile.
"You hungry, want anything besides this?" he asked, offering her the wine glass.
He watched her take a sip, watched her throat move as she swallowed. She nodded, pulling the glass from her lips. "I'm good. Had some finger food there. At least they fed me."
"Good," he said firmly. He slipped his fingers through those of her empty hand and with the other pushed the button to beckon the elevator that served all six floors of their Upper West Side townhouse. "Then let's go to bed."
As the elevator motor whirred to life, signaling its approach, he hovered over her and pressed her into the wall next to the sliding silver doors. He peered down at her, at the same time reaching out for her wine glass. "You done with this?"
He'd asked, but his body language told her there was only one answer he'd accept. "Um ... I think so yeah," she answered, stealing one last sip.
He took the glass from her fingers and set it down on the side table next to the elevator. He did so without looking, simultaneously pressing into her and burying his mouth in her neck. He drew a long breath, taking in her scent from behind closed eyes.
Her phone hummed in her other hand. Without removing his mouth from her neck, he reached down and pried her phone from her fingers. "No more tonight. I need you."
She sighed deeply, her body riddled with fatigue and something else that was quickly building. Something she hadn't expected tonight.
"I was watching you," he rumbled, the two-day scruff of his unshaven face scraping along her jaw.
She opened her mouth to respond but he cut her off. "That was just … that guy …," he began. "He was … I don't even know what to say.'" Then he drew his lips from her jaw to under her ear.
She wasn't usually one to speak ill of anyone. Her father had taught her to live by the golden rule and that kindness was key. But even she had to admit that of all the questions the late night talk show host could have asked her, the ones he'd chosen had been mostly insignificant and painfully uninsightful. "I know right," she muttered, her head falling back against the wall just as the soft ding signaling the elevator's arrival echoed over them.
The door swung open. He pushed her inside and up against the wall at the left as the doors closed. He first pushed the button for the third floor, then glancing down at her, quickly reached over again and pressed the stop button, effectively halting the car's ascent before it had even begun.
"What's gotten into you tonight?" she asked, reaching her hands up and interlocking her wrists behind his head.
He didn't answer immediately, as he was preoccupied with softly sucking her earlobe.
"His questions didn't challenge you," he finally rumbled, still working at her neck. "So maybe you can answer mine."
She'd never once in all their years together felt afraid of him. And she didn't now. But she was intrigued and quite frankly turned on by this side of him that she'd intended to incite. It was obvious that he wanted her, but she was taken aback at him operating with such intensity. She hoped his next words, his question, would shed some light and confirm her suspicions.
"Just tell me," he said. "Did you wear them for me?"
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than he pressed his over hers, his aggressive lips parting hers and his tongue upon hers immediately. She gave in to the kiss. How could she not?
"What, baby? Did I wear what for you?" she asked when he finally relinquished her mouth.
She wanted to hear him say it. So she played dumb for his benefit, flirtatiously behaving as if she had no idea what had set him off or what "them" meant. The use of a plural pronoun confirmed he wasn't referring to her short leather jacket. Her earrings, jewelry and other accessories weren't anything he hadn't seen tens of times before. Her cropped pants had been part of a few outfits in recent weeks. She'd dressed them up and dressed them down, depending on the circumstances. She'd worn them to both the theater and to the set. That left only one possible trigger.
"These shoes," he huffed, reaching a hand behind her knee and drawing her left leg high up on his hip. "These damned red shoes," he growled, pressing his pelvis against her.
She was suddenly so alive. She was tired from a long day on set and a late talk show appearance. And she'd be back on set before dawn. But none of that mattered right now. Because right now she was aroused by his arousal.
She smiled when he acknowledged her suspicions. "You know I did," she offered in a husky whisper. "You know it was for you."
"I knew," he breathed. "You were answering questions ... talking about him. But I knew they were for me."
He blindly reached out one large hand and swatted at the elevator buttons, effectively disengaging the emergency stop and setting the small square car in motion again.
She moaned into his mouth as the shift caused him to press into her again. The same hand he'd used to reach the buttons he now brought inside the lapel of her leather jacket and closed his palm firmly over her right breast. He kneaded the flesh, while his other hand splayed on her lower back and held her firmly against him.
The elevator stopped, the doors opened and, still intertwined, they stumbled out into the third-floor hallway of their master bedroom. The adjacent dressing area was dark, and the bedroom itself was lit only by a small decorative lamp. He swept his hands inside her jacket and pushed it off her shoulders, carelessly dropping it onto the floor just outside the elevator.
She was completely on board now and began clawing at his navy blue T-shirt. He took his hands off of her long enough to reach behind his neck, pull the shirt off over his head and toss it aside. Then he was on her again, pushing her backwards toward their large platform bed. Her hair fell in natural waves over the duvet as she smiled up at him and watched as he began to undress her.
"I saw you," he announced ominously as he tugged her pants open. He withdrew from her proximity as he lifted one leg and removed her shoe. He didn't drop it to the floor, instead placing it beside her on the mattress while he went for the other. He pressed open-mouthed kisses along her left ankle as he lifted her leg and removed her other shoe.
"I saw how you crossed your legs. How you rolled your ankle toward the camera," he added. "You were talking about him, but you were tempting me."
"It was only because they asked," she offered. "They always ask."
"Don't they know what it does to me?" he pressed.
"They don't. But I do," she answered, reaching up and removing his glasses. "I know it makes you like this. That's why I answer."
The glasses and the scruff were a disguise of sorts, perhaps his way of hiding how sinfully handsome he was. On days he wasn't working, he would slip into this other side of himself, taking the edge off the granite features that had left her breathless all those years ago. With a few more pounds and some salty gray at his temples, he was even better looking now than he was then.
He hooked his long fingers into the waistband of her pants and pulled them down her long legs. He didn't get far before she heard him growl again just after discovering the surprise she'd kept for him. It was all the confirmation he needed. Now he knew the shoes had been for him, and they'd only been the tip of the iceberg. As he slid her pants down her legs, he lowered himself over her and grazed her red satin panties with his scruff. He drew in a long breath, inhaling her heat as he freed her feet from her pants. She started to rise up to meet him, reaching out for her shoes beside her and intending to push them off the bed. She suspected they'd need every inch of their California king tonight.
"No," he growled, placing his hand over hers and stilling her. He took a shoe out of her right hand and gazed down at her with fiery eyes. He pulled one long leg up at his side and put her shoe back on. Then he repeated the action on the other leg, mouthing her muscular calf as he did so.
"You like them that much, huh?" she asked rhetorically, her eyes heavy with a blend of lust and amusement. She found his determination irresistible.
"I couldn't take my eyes off of you," he said straddling her body on the bed. "I want you wearing them when I come inside you."
He was her husband, her soulmate, the father of her children, and the only lover she'd had in nearly 15 years. Yet even now he made her stomach plummet with his words.
She arched up toward him as he swept his hands under her top, raising it as his palms moved over her breasts. She wanted his hands on her, on her skin. So while she kissed him she undid the few buttons on her top and wiggled out of it. He wasn't letting up and gave her very little room to move. She managed to get it off and reach behind herself to unclasp her red satin bra. When he saw it - more red, more for him - he ramped up even more, mouthing wetly at her nipples and grinding his hips between her legs.
She could feel him hard against her and remembered back to all those years ago, to the first time in her old place on Bleeker Street, to confirming her suspicions that every part of his body was in proportion to his generous height. That's when she realized she'd been so captivated by his desire tonight that she hadn't yet touched him.
She was determined to snake a hand between them and tug at the string holding up his pajama pants. She knew him, knew how he slept, so she also knew there would be nothing underneath. Once the string was undone, it was effortless to slip her palms into his flannels and feel his ass flex as he ground against her.
He wasa deep thinker and master of at least four languages. An actor, author, advocate and budding photographer, he was sophisticated, introspective, educated and a gentleman through and through. But at times like this - in the privacy of their bedroom - his eloquence often wavered and he told her exactly what he was thinking.
"Fuck yes," he rumbled when he felt her carefully use the inside of her shoes to push his pajama pants down his legs, wedging his rigid cock against her abdomen. The sensation of the scalloped sides of her shoes smoothing down the outside of his thighs incited him further. He moved abruptly, wrapping his fingers around the sharp heel of each shoe, lifting and pushing backwards until her feet were near her ass and her legs were wide open around him, her knees bent and both heels digging into the duvet.
With his palms flat against the mattress on either side of her, he looked down at the most private parts of her glistening before him, glanced back up at her wanton face and smirked at her. Then she could no longer see his eyes, as he lowered his head and dipped the tip of his tongue into her. She arched up to him, as he used the thumb and forefinger of his left hand to part her so he could explore her further.
He'd come to know what worked for her, what she liked, but he wasn't sure he'd have the patience to give it all to her tonight. He'd been fighting his frenzied body since he saw her on television nearly two hours ago. He found himself thinking how odd it was that she was his and would be coming home to him - he had no doubts about that - yet seeing her on television like everyone else did had ignited him tonight.
As he lapped at her, in his periphery he could see one heel digging into the mattress. His eyes followed its sharp lines up her ankle and along her toned calf. He wanted her wrapped around him.
She drove her fingers through his sandy brown hair and relaxed her legs, letting them fall as wide open as possible around his shoulders. She'd always given him all of her, and tonight was no different. When he slipped a single finger inside and kept working his tongue outside, she writhed under him and smiled to herself at how well he knew her. She showed him some appreciation by lifting her heels off the bed and resting the arches of her shoes over his large shoulders. It was her way of reminding him what had gotten them here so quickly in the first place.
As she moved her feet a little, lightly grinding the underside of her shoes into his shoulders, he pulled his mouth away from her. "I can't," he muttered almost desperately. "I can't wait."
She looked downright devilish when she smiled down at him and said, "Then don't."
Her feet flew off his shoulders when he rose abruptly, growling as he wrestled his feet the rest of the way out of his pajama pants and gripped himself firmly in his right hand. He moved between her legs, the outside of his thighs smoothing up the inside of hers. He brought his head to her opening and watched her face paint over with pleasure as he slid himself along her folds, gathering her moisture on himself. But enough was enough.
He kept watching her and gripping himself as he pressed his tip into her opening, then released his hand as the whole length of him slowly disappeared inside of her. She released the longest lust-filled grown as she felt him fill her.
They'd done this hundreds of times in all the best ways and then some, but each time she was reminded of his sheer size. The way he consumed all the space inside her was in complete contrast to how incredibly in tune with her needs he'd always been, careful with his touches, always making sure she was comfortable before driving his hips forward. The fact of the matter was he was a large man, towering over her by some nine inches in height while standing and surrounding her with his body in bed. She never felt safer than when she was under him, but tonight he was impatient, spurred on by those damned shoes.
He lifted up on his palms as he moved slowly at first, looking down at her and biting at his own bottom lip as he nestled inside her. He was trying like hell to show some restraint. "We good?" he asked.
And now her graces were gone. "Fuck yes," she urged. "Do it."
He pulled back and surged forward again, eliciting a sound from her that made them both glad that their children were asleep on an entirely different floor of the house. He grinned at her, at the reaction she'd offered and did it again. And again. Until she started moving with him, pushing up into him as he drove down into her.
They fell into a rhythm, his left hand palming her face as he kissed her. When he pulled his mouth away, she took to tonguing his thumb, working at it until she had at least the first knuckle in her mouth. She sucked at it and swirled her tongue over its tip in time with his hips. He opened his eyes to see her mouth moving over his thumb, her eyes closed, her long fingers clawing at his lower back.
"That's it baby," he coaxed. "Now let me feel them."
She knew what he wanted, so she wrapped her legs as tightly around his wide hips as she could and pressed the heels of her shoes first into the backs of his thighs and then into his buttocks. The sensation was intensified by the realization that the shoes she was wearing for him - while people questioned her about another man - were wrapped around him while he bottomed out inside of her. The thought made him nearly feral, fueling deep and powerful thrusts that had her moaning and cussing from underneath him.
She was every bit of what people thought she might be in bed - erotic, emotional, responsive and, more often than not, incredibly naughty. What they sometimes failed to realize is that she didn't and never would belong to that other man. She was his.
As many of you surely know, there's been a recent reappearance of these shoes. That being said, there will be a Chapter 2 in the near future.