a/n:
1. things get *close* to disastrous in here. that doesn't mean it happens, but it's rated M FOR A REASON!
seriously, kiddos - turn around. this journey isn't one for youngins.
2. this is an au! the babes are dating! repeat: the babes are dating! (*smiling* they're such cuties)
inspired by Sokeefe555!
.
"I'VE HAD IT ON MY MIND FOR AWHILE," Keefe confessed humbly.
Sophie watched him earnestly, heart pounding in her ears. He was sitting so casually on the opposite end of the bed, just watching her. Did he actually. . . just admit that to her?
Of all the things Sophie had thought they'd be talking about when she invited him over to Havenfield on the drowsy, thundercloud-filled April afternoon, that wasn't on the list.
Sure, they'd slowly been spiraling closer towards that heavy decision, but she hadn't thought that Keefe really wanted to talk to her about it.
Secretly she'd wanted him to bring it up to her. She wanted to know his desires with her and she wanted him to knows hers. She wanted to explain her apprehensions, her boundaries, and the things that scared her - but she also wanted to share the things she enjoyed, the things that put butterflies in her stomach to think about.
But now that Keefe was diving in deep to that conservation right here and right now, admitting to her that he wanted sex with her just like she did with him, it put her face - no, her whole body - on fire.
It was sweet, how he was about to take the time to discuss it with her before he tried diving in - but it made her stomach turn sour.
Sophie was wholly impressed, though, at how he said it without stuttering or stammering like she would have, confessing something like that straight to her face. But she definitely took note of the way his face was a light pink, flushing adorably.
Sophie's face was much darker though, judging by the way Keefe's lips still managed to quirk at the corners as he observed her.
"Really?" she asked quietly. It was more of a squeak than anything.
Keefe rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "I mean, I'm just. . . I don't know. Worried about hurting you. And stuff. I'm not sure. It's a big step. But it's. . ."
He picked his dry lips, eyes flickering up to hers as he trailed off. Once sea and earth collided, he cleared his throat, flushing a deep red.
"Nevermind."
"No, tell me," she begged, scooting closer to him. She didn't want him to close off like that, not when they were talking about something so important. It was a weird conversation to have with one another, she knew that - but she was so glad that he was willingly participating in it, with her. Most couples probably wouldn't talk or think. They'd just wind up making out, slowly lose clothes, and end up connected like a damn jigsaw puzzle.
But Keefe was talking through it with her, before anything was going to happen, telling her things like I just don't want to hurt you.
The obvious and deep way he cared for her made her stomach flip and spin like some silly schoolgirl infected with a Class A puppy-love crush.
But she knew their relationship wasn't built on that - especially not if they were taking this step.
"Keefe," she tried again, cheeks blooming with heat as she reached forward and hesitantly took his hand settled in his lap. He flinched lightly at first contact, but instantly sank in to her touch and laced fingers with her when he came to his senses. He looked up at her again, though he'd been trying to avoid eye contact.
He flashed a weak smirk, clearly trying his hardest to act as if this conversation wasn't shaking him as much as it really was. Really, really obviously was. "What is it, Foster? Do you need me to spell it out for you?"
The roguish smile settled on his lips turned her art to ashes, but she managed a curt nod. Her whole body was zinging with this uncontrollable energy and fire as he took in her answer. His smirk started to fall for a millisecond, surprised laced in his eyes, but he pulled it right back up, regaining composure.
"Okay, then," he assured, and Sophie nearly released the breath she had been holding. "When a man and woman love each other very much—"
Sophie reached over without another word and smacked his arm, eliciting a round of chuckling and wincing from Keefe. "Ouch!" he exclaimed through laughter, clearly loving the way Sophie's face was scrunched in temporary anger.
"I'm being serious you yeti."
At first Keefe started laughing more, but then he noticed the heady glare set on Sophie's face. Slowly his laughter fizzled away and Sophie turned away, not sure what else there was for her to do in the situation.
Keefe didn't really know what to say after that and neither did Sophie, so they sat respectively still. Sophie avoided all eye contact, trying to maintain the insane hue of her blush, while Keefe watched her with his unwavering ice blue eyes. He opened his mouth a few times, trying to form some string of words that would reassure her or get them back on track, but he had nothing.
After a few more uncomfortable seconds of thick silence, Keefe ran a hand through his hair, eyebrows furrowing as he sighed heavily.
"Ah, fuck it," Keefe grumbled, moving forward without any warning. Sophie's head snapped back in his direction just in time for him to lift his hand, cupping the side of her face. Her eyes widened a little at first, but then she couldn't help but relax and even giggle as he leaned in.
It was odd and quite frankly unfair how he had so much control over her in that way. It seemed as if all he had to do to win her back over was hold her hand, kiss her, give some form of physical reassurance. And he knew it too, the bastard. That's why he was doing it.
She pulled back just a hair's width, breaking the kiss, whispering, "Yeti," in a teasing manner into his mouth.
He enjoyed the glint in her eyes, but still replied, "I am so not the yeti in this relationship."
And then Sophie was giggling as he leaned back in all over again.
She couldn't even conceive what kissing him could ever compare to. Everywhere he touched her she was burning and aching, just on the edge of some sort of perfection.
Their connection - whatever it was, emotions and mind, ability to feel whatever the other was - seemed to snap together, strong as iron, and she couldn't only feel him. She knew him. It wasn't just his physical sensation, mouths melding and making her pulse skyrocket, it was his mind, his emotions, everything that was Keefe Sencen.
His hands gripped her waist suddenly and she held back her gasp when he prompted her backwards until she was laying down, facing upwards as he loomed over her, peppering kisses to her mouth.
And their whole conversation from earlier - the exact one that had gotten interrupted by this make out session -she was in the middle of - flooded back into her mind.
With a tiny gasp she broke the kiss for a split second, staring into his eyes. Her skin prickled as she sensed light disappointment swimming inside them, and her desires matched his - she didn't want to stop. But she. . .
"Say it," she tested, practically panting, body overflowing with desire and want. She wanted to hear it from him - needed it. With the spark in his eyes, she knew she was practically daring him to give in to those words, but it was all she could think about.
Keefe seemed to know exactly what she was talking about and he swallowed. "I don't want to fuck you," he blurted.
They were breathing heavily, chests meeting as they inhaled and steadily drifting apart as they exhaled.
"Just. . ." Keefe tried to continue, but cut himself off after a few seconds. Sophie seemed to silently understand it was hard to voice it and she began nodding. Keefe swallowed, leaning down and allow their foreheads to just barely brush together. Noses bumped and lips brushed against one another, shallow puffs for air escaping past their lips. "I want to make love with you. To you."
There it was. The words that changed everything. The blasted words that set some inconceivable fire burning low in her stomach, the damned words that shot electricity down her spine.
"This is your choice, too," he reminded, clearly as shaken as she was. "And if you don't want to do this, you give me the word. You give me the word, Foster, and I will stop."
"Okay," Sophie agreed, nodding.
And then Keefe was kissing her again. Everything was falling into place, shifting and clicking the missing pieces of her puzzle. She felt complete.
Her mind wandered, wondering what she would have done if she'd never met this incredible boy. If she'd never had the chance to struggle beside him, fight, encourage, and eventually stand together on the top with him. He'd done so much for her, never batting an eye before he'd risk it all.
But something inside Sophie was squirming at the way his hands were trailing up her body. At first she hadn't really noticed it with the buzz and intensity of the kiss, especially considering the fact that he was noticeably nervous and going slow with the touching. But then his hands were leisurely becoming more sure of themselves and the desire inside.
Her shirt hiked up a little as a result of his exploring hands and then they were reaching up and under, going over her hip bones and stomach. It was getting harder and harder to pay attention to the kissing, her mind lasering down and focusing on that contact. The way her body was being pressed into the mattress, the way she felt like she was suffocating.
His hands lazily brushed the undersides of her breasts, his mouth sucking on her lower lip, and everything went into full panic mode.
In an instant, Sophie pushed away from him, arms gripping his biceps as she disconnected their mouths, all before sucking in a sharp breath. A shot of pure terror sliced through the air.
Alarmed, Keefe flinched with his hands loosely hanging on her stomach. He took them off her and out from her shirt without another word. "Hey," Keefe said, trying immediately to comfort her.
Sophie screwed her eyes shut, squeezing his biceps in a death grip. He also noticed the way she clamped her legs shut.
Getting the sense that she felt trapped, he respectively moved off from over her, sitting up on the bed. Without a word, Sophie wasted no time in pushing herself up into a sitting position back against the headboard. Within the same second she curled her knees to her chest. She buried we face in her hands, sucking in huge breaths and exhaling shakily.
"Whoa, whoa," Keefe consoled, shocked by how much fear was pricking at his skin. It was coming off her in stinging waves, far too intense for him to even think about ignoring. "Foster. Sophie. Hey, just breathe. Breathe for me."
Sophie began shaking almost violent, shuddering and shivering as she mumbled swiftly to herself. "I don't want to," she cried. She seemed distant, as if the words weren't particularly meant for him.
"I need you to breathe for me. And look at me. Look at me, it's alright."
He reached forward, touching her hand cautiously. She stiffened and whimpered at the touch, shaking her head which was still buried in her hands. He pushed forward though, insistently but gently slipping his hand around hers. He tugged it away from her face in no rush, taking his time to make sure she didn't react badly.
He kept mumbling encouraging words to her, assuring her that he was there.
Eventually she relaxed a little bit more, allowing him to take her hands away from gripping her head and hiding her face. He cupped her face, softly lifting her face up so that she looked at him.
Her lip was trembling and she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing a few tears out.
"Oh, baby," he whispered tenderly, rubbing his thumbs along her cheeks. "Did I hurt you? I didn't feel any pain coming off of you, so I didn't think anything of it. Did I scratch you? Push too hard?"
Sophie shook her head miserably, chewing on her lower lip. She seemed to be focusing on sucking in deep breaths through her mouth and letting them out through her nose. Her eyes were still screwed shut and she shivered.
Keefe could feel the very eminent fear radiating off of her body, like the inescapable light that shone from the sun.
"I'm so sorry," he said. He wasn't truly aware of what he had done, but it was obviously something.
After a few more muttered apologies, Sophie fluttered her eyes open. Her lashes were wet and brimmed with tears that caused Keefe's chest to tighten.
"You didn't do anything," she promised quietly.
"No, no I did. Did I push myself on you? I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry, Sophie."
She shook her head again, his hands still on her cheeks. She took a shivering breath. "No," she insisted, choking back a sob. She closed her eyes again, nostrils flaring and lip quivering as she tried to keep the tears at bay. It was so painfully obvious she was trying her best not to break down any further. And it hurt Keefe to see her that way.
"You didn't do anything," she squeaked, barely able to get the words out.
A few more traitorous tears slipped out and Sophie practically glared at them. Keefe's mouth could only quirk in the slightest at one end as he wiped the salty liquid away with his thumbs.
"Did something happen today? Or are you worried about something that's coming up?" Keefe pressed carefully.
Sophie shook her head miserably.
"Did. . . Something happen a little while ago that's stressing you out?" Keefe tried, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Her answers weren't making much sense to him. She was denying every option he could think of. What could be upsetting her if it wasn't him, it was something that happened, or it wasn't something that was going to happen?
Sophie closed her eyes briefly after the question. Finally, she managed a tiny nod.
Keefe's eyebrows lifted and he nodded in a flurry. He moved his hands off of her burning cheeks, wiping some strands of hair off her forehead. "Okay," he said numbly. "Okay. That's getting somewhere."
There was a light sheen of sweat beginning to form on her forehead, and her body was beginning to get wracked with frenzies of shivering more constantly.
"Do you want to tell me anything about it?" he offered.
Sophie blinked her welled-up eyes, sniffling. "I don't know," she blubbered, beginning to de-rail again. She made some sort of garbled noise, trying not to cry again.
Keefe put both his hands on her arms, rubbing tenderly. "It's okay," he promised. "It's just me here. Is that it? Is that what you're worried about? There's no one else in the room, Sophie. It's just me."
"That's not it," Sophie whined, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. When she set her hand back down he expected her to wrap it around her knees again. Instead she grabbed Keefe's hand numbly, squeezing it.
Keefe squeezed back, his stomach dropping. "Foster," he whispered.
Without another word she uncurled herself from her balled up position, practically throwing herself to him. She crawled into his arms, hands fumbling as she fisted his shirt in her palms, burying her face in the crook of his neck and making soft noises. Some were whimpers, others were tiny whines or cries.
Keefe wrapped his arms around her in light surprise, lifting up a hand and brushing it over the top of her head and hair. "Shh. It's okay," he soothed. He didn't know what else he could say to her.
He whispered it to her for a few more minutes until she unballed his shirt from her fists. Her body untensed and she sank into his touch, loosely wrapping her arms around his neck. Her fear was leisurely dropping, which made his stomach feel less squirmy.
Keefe ran his hands over her back, kissing her hair. "It's alright, Sophie."
Sophie's response was a sniffle near his ear. He could feel fat teardrops plopping on his back and shoulder. It was dotting the fabric of his shirt, soaking his skin. "I like that," she rasped suddenly.
"Like what, babe?"
"When you call me Sophie," she clarified. "But I like Foster, too. It's just. . . You don't call me Sophie a lot."
Keefe's lips stretched into a delicate smile. "Yeah," he agreed. He only called her that when they were fighting, being lovey-dovey, or being wholly serious with one another. And this was another one of those serious moments.
Sophie exhaled, and he watched her back rise and felt her chest push against his as she inhaled equally as slow. She kept the pattern up, in an out, and Keefe found himself doing it with her as he massaged her back and combed his fingers through her silky hair.
She sniffed once more before nuzzling as close as she could get. "I. . . I just. . . I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry—"
"No," Sophie stopped him, twisting her her face from in his shoulder and leaning out little so she could look at him. She straightened, sitting up attentive in his lap, locking eyes with him. Holding his gaze to show that she truly meant what she was saying. "It's not you, I promise. I. . ."
She closed her eyes again and Keefe got the idea she was looking back on something distant. The hands she had placed on his chest fidgeted lightly with the fabric of his shirt, clearly itching to ball it up in her fists again. He could practically feel the way her skin was crawling.
Keefe cautiously settled his hands on her hips, hoping that didn't make the situation worse. Luckily Sophie didn't seem to mind it; she welcomed it, in fact. The light shivering ceased as he rubbed slow circles on her waist and she fluttered her eyes open again.
Her jaw was locked as she repeated, "You didn't do anything wrong."
Keefe nodded in understanding. "Okay, Foster. I believe you." A few more seconds of tracing delicate circles on her hips and she picked up her hands, placing them on his shoulders. They stared at one another, Keefe occasionally reaching up and wiping a tear off of Sophie's cheek. "Do you not want to talk about it? Do you want space? I can leave. Or we can lay in the bed, listen to the rain outside, and cuddle." He turned and gestured to her one wall that was entirely made of transparent crystal, where sheets of rain were pelting outside. She watched the drops drizzle down the outside of the wall, sighing and wishing she could clap her hands and close the curtains - close out the world.
Keefe continued after her sigh, "I don't really care. Whatever you need."
Sophie lightly massaged the top of his shoulders. "No, I. . ." She took a shuddering breath, closing her eyes
for a brief second before forcing them open again. "I need to talk about it."
Keefe blinked tentatively as if he was shocked with her answer. He cleared his throat after a second, allowing his wide eyes to return to their normal size as he nodded. His hands started tracing circles again. "Okay."
Sophie nodded, licking her dry lips. Keefe reached up and swiped a hot tear that trailed down her cheek, letting his touch linger for a second longer than necessary.
She sniffled, looking him in the eyes. "I. . ." She shuddered lightly, gripping his shoulders. "I don't know how to tell you. And even if I do tell you, I don't know if you'd understand what I meant. You might not know the word. You're elves, after all. Crime like that probably doesn't h-happen." Her voice grew thick at the edges.
Keefe's brows furrowed. "What word?"
Sophie looked away, paling in the slightest. "Keefe. . . I don't know if I can even say it. And if I do and you manage to understand what I'm telling you, then you'll. . ." She caught his eyes again, sadness swimming in her own. "Look at me so different."
Keefe shook his head immediately, cutting off any weak attempts Sophie made to interject and try and convince him she was correct. "You and I both know I won't do that. I may be an absolute idiot at times, but nothing you say could ever change my view of you - for the worse, I mean."
Sophie didn't look all too convinced at the statement, but miserably nodded nonetheless. Keefe sighed, drawing Sophie's attention after a few seconds. "Just trust me," he murmured, hands still making those comforting circles.
She took a deep breath. Keefe wouldn't intentionally hurt her. She knew that.
That didn't make it any easier, though.
"Okay," she began. "I. . . I didn't. . . Really realize it was happening. Or was going to happen. I guess nobody would really see it coming, but the feeling could sometimes be there. And I'm a telepath - I should've heard and just. . ."
She shook her head, her statement fizzling away.
Keefe's eyebrows knit together as he tried to grasp onto her story. He knew she needed time to be ready to really say it to him, but with how slow she was giving him details, he couldn't even begin to comprehend what had happened. But one detail did catch his ear.
"You said you should have been able to hear?" he repeated, waiting until Sophie bobbed her head in confirmation. "So, you were around humans? You didn't have to enter their head?"
Another dip of her chin.
"Okay," he said, blowing out a sigh. "Alright, so. . ." He didn't know what else to say.
Thankfully, Sophie filled the silence for him. "It wasn't entirely my fault, I suppose," she started, swallowing heavily. "I mean, I didn't end up doing it. But I still just. . . End up blaming myself. Like I should have seen it coming. I couldn't run, though. Definitely-" She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "Definitely couldn't have fought back. Tried."
The terror beginning to rip through her body ate away at Keefe's insides, and he wanted to shudder along with her. "Sophie," he said.
"I know," she all but whimpered, sniffling again. "Sorry. I'm-I'm trying not to cry and all that."
Keefe nodded grimly. "Take your time."
She recovered quicker than Keefe had anticipated, though, shaking off her nerves and looking him straight in the eyes. A flicker of a smile came across her lips and she allowed her hand to go up and brush a few strands of hair off his forehead. "I was. . . Walking alone. From school. My parents didn't pick me up in the car like some other kids did. And I couldn't drive myself. So I either took the bus or walked, but that day I obviously missed it. T-The bus, I mean."
She looked off to the side of the room, entire body tensed and stiff. She looked as if she was replaying some distant memory; as if she expected someone to be waiting in the shadows.
"I, um. . ." Her entire body convulsed for a second and Keefe gripped her hips in reflex. Sophie rushed to apologize, cupping his face in her hands almost absent-mindedly. "Sorry. Tingle just. . . Went up my spine. Sorry."
Keefe opened his mouth to say it was okay, but with the light quirk of Sophie's mouth, he figured she had guessed he was going to say it. He closed his mouth as Sophie caressed his cheeks with her thumbs.
"There was a guy," she said, voice tight. "And I should have heard him. Should have seen him—" She took a shaky breath, thumbs fumbling on his cheeks. It was clear that she was done, that was the end of her sentence, because she just couldn't keep going.
She bit her lip hard as her head dropped so that she was staring at her lap straddling his, and the waves of ugly emotions were being thrown at him. Anger, regret, sadness, and some other empty feeling that made his chest feel hollow.
Keefe's stomach soured as his brain started connecting the pieces she was giving him, drawing himself to conclusions he didn't want to make. Things he didn't even want to think about.
But it made perfect, horrible sense with the way she had become so scared of his touch — that touch. The walking home alone. The guy. The self blame.
"Sophie," Keefe whispered, voice shaky. Sophie looked up hesitantly, knitting their gazes together. Her eyes were welled up with tears, lip beginning to tremble. "Did this. . . Did this guy. . . Touch you?"
She nodded, a tear escaping.
Fear gripped his heart. Fuck, fuck no. "Can I say the word?" he blurted, panic flooding through his body. This couldn't be happening, this couldn't fucking be happening. "If I think I know it, can I say it? I need to know, Sophie, but I don't want to hurt you by saying it."
She shivered, bobbing her head bravely. The hands she had on his face were burning, a light film of sweat beginning to form and make them clammy.
Keefe swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing violently as he dipped his chin. "Okay," he whispered. He didn't know what to do with his hands. He didn't know whether or not to hold all of her or to not touch her at all. He didn't know if he should maintain the eye contact they had going or close his eyes and blurt it out.
"Sophie. . ." They were both breathing rather heavily, waiting for him to spit it out. Waiting for the words that would change it all. He needed answers. "Did. . . Did he. . ."
He looked her in the eyes as she brushed her thumbs over his face, tickling sensations erupting wherever she touched. Any other moment he would have loved the attention she was paying him. But now it felt wrong.
"Did he rape you?"
Her chin wobbled. Her eyes flooded over with salty tears. When one finally escaped, rolling down her cheek, she broke. "Yes," she whispered.
"Oh my God," Keefe whispered, his own eyes starting to prick with the burning sensation of tears. Sophie whimpered and he could see through his slightly blurry vision that her bottom lip was trembling so hard, and her hands, the hands on his face, they dropped so quickly. She practically dissolved into tears, burying her face in his shoulder and wrapping her arms tightly around him.
Keefe carefully enveloped her as delicately as he could, not sure if he should even touch her. He reached up, combing his hand down her hair, his tears mixing into the fabric of her shirt. "Foster," he choked. "Sophie."
"I didn't want to tell you because it seemed so little in comparison to everything else that happened when I came here," she sobbed, body shuddering with every word. She was trembling violently, too violently, and it was actually scaring him. "I thought I had put it behind me. It seemed so stupid when I looked at everything else. And I-I never thought that it would interfere with my r-relationships."
The end of her sentence dissolved into lore tears and she was a barely able to get them full last word out.
"I'm so sorry," she blubbered miserably, pulling back from his embrace. He let her go immediately, letting her look at him. "I'm so sorry."
"Sophie," Keefe whispered, voice strained. He wiped more of her tees off her face, but it was no use — they just kept streaming down her cheeks and chin and chest. "You do not have to be sorry about anything. You should never feel sorry about something like this."
"But I've messed it up," she whined. "I made you feel bad, but it wasn't you. I know you'd never do that to me. I know you wouldn't hurt me, but I pulled away and I made a scene and—" She was cut off by a hiccup.
"You do not have to be sorry about having boundaries, love." Keefe swiped some more tears of her face and her lips quirked a little at the name. He knew she secretly loved it when he called her those things. Gave her little names here and there, just for her, only her. "Especially after something like that."
"Do you think I'm disgusting?" she asked quickly, as if to spit it out before she talked herself out of it. "Do you think I'm tainted goods? Is that all you're ever going to see whenever you touch me? Are you angry that another man did before you?"
"What? Sophie, no." He took her hands in his, making sure she looked at him. "I love you, okay. I love you. All of you. I don't just want your body. And you know what, past experiences don't define you. You are. . ." Keefe shuddered as the tears he had been trying to hold back broke loose. Hot and salty, they made a river down his skin.
"You are amazing in every fucking way imaginable. You are so kind and you look out for everyone. You're a hero in every way possible, but you're also so incredibly humble. You don't boast about what you've done, even though you've accomplished amazing things that none of us had even ever dreamt of. And you're a good listener. You're the best friend. You were a great kid and you're growing into the perfect woman. And you are the most fucking wonderful girlfriend. You hold all of me together every fucking day."
Sophie was shivering, then, but not from fear anymore — it was his words, the way they poured out so easily as he watched her with these eyes filled with so much compassion and love. She whimpered. "I love you. I love you so much."
Keefe made a garbled sound. "I love you, too, Foster. So very much. More than you'll ever realize."
Sophie made a sound between a whimper and a sob, leaning forward and kissing him through her tears. Keefe sank into it with the first bit of contact, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with one hand, resting the other on her hip.
They stayed like that for how long, kissing until they were breathless, pulling away to regain air and then returning to one another like magnets.
Soon Keefe moved on from her mouth, though, kissing away her tears, moving to her jaw, peppering open-mouthed kisses on her throat and collarbone and shoulders. He relished in the way he could hear breathless sighs and tiny sounds of satisfaction escaping past her lips. He loved the way her body was giving off little zings of heat and passion and love and overall enjoyment. He wanted to dry her tears, hold her, love her until the very end.
"I love all of you, Sophie Foster. I don't know what I'd do without you. My Foster. . . God, my beautiful Foster."