Title: What's in a Name?
Word Count: 5,065
Author: rosie4299
Author's Late Night Toeing the Deadline Ramblings- I have to say, I was a more than a little worried that this wouldn't get done in time for the deadline of tonight at midnight, Ames' time. But I made it by one hour and twenty-nine minutes! Score for me! So, thanks go out to Ames for the beta job, and for reading this story almost line by line as I wrote it, without complaint.
I was afraid I'd be a little rusty with the smut. I mean, it's been quite awhile since I wrote some. But it actually flowed pretty well. I think this might be one of my favorite fics I've ever written. It was so fun to create.
Hope you all enjoy! And go check out the Build-A-Fic website for our other story. We'll be starting the next round very soon, so be sure to sign up and write us something completely fabulous!
1.) Pick your Pairing/Character- Trory
2.) Pick your Rating- Hard R
3.) Time Period- Futurefic
4.) Ickle Words (Pick One)
- Knitpicker- (Noun) – The person who chooses holiday sweaters for gifts.
6.) Random Objects
- Snowmen
- Candy Canes
7.) A Marathon Event (Something that is going on in the background, a continuous action that won't end.
- A Forty-Eight hour town marathon/festival. (i.e., Taylor organizing Christmas Caroling all day Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.)
It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning streaked across the sky, thunder rumbling as the waves crashed violently against the shoreline like –
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens!
Lena drew back, trembling with desire as Talon advanced on her, the only sound to be heard on the beach was soft padding of the –
Wild geese that fly on the moon with their wings!
"Don't try to escape," he told her, his voice commanding and strong. She was paralyzed, unable to move, to save herself from the torrent of emotions swirling inside of her like the winds of the –
Silver white winters that melt into spring!
Rory threw her pen across the room, a frustrated cry escaping her lungs. She flopped back on her chair and shoved her notebook off her lap. It landed in a heap somewhere near her left foot, its pages crinkling. She knew she should pick it up before the paper got torn, but Rory couldn't bring herself to care.
Taylor Doose was going to die. It was the only way that she was going to get her new novel finished in time to meet her deadline. Rory couldn't concentrate on anything with the never-never-never-ending caroling that had been going on for the past twelve hours, and she knew it wouldn't cease for another thirty-two. Normally, she loved the caroling marathon and couldn't wait for it to begin every year, so that she could mock Kirk's off-key version of 'We Three Kings' and listen to Patty's run on the glorias in 'Angels We Have Heard on High.'
But this was no normal time. Why she'd agreed to a deadline of the end of January was beyond her at this point. She'd been ignoring her writing since Halloween, preferring to decorate her front lawn with cobwebs and carve jack o' lanterns with her family instead. Then Thanksgiving came, and turkey and stuffing that came from going to the five dinners that she and her husband were now required to attend had done nothing but further distract her. And then the shopping had begun. Rory hadn't even realized that she had little over a month to complete the better part of a book she wasn't sure how to end.
Sighing, Rory plucked her notebook from its spot on the ground and grabbed a fresh pen from the coffee mug on the edge of her desk. Fresh pen, fresh start, she thought, trying to get back to the climax of her story.
Resistance was futile. She knew it, and even worse than that, so did he. Talon had reached her; he was standing right before Lena. He'd been following her the entire way down the beach, fighting with her, imploring her to just give him what he wanted most. His eyes were dark pools of lust, smoldering and hot, but he didn't reach out for her. No, he wasn't going to take her until she finally admitted it.
"Just say it," he ground out, his breath brushing against her skin, ever so subtly softening his hard tone. She couldn't believe that she had let this get so far. Lena Benson was not the kind of woman who would ever let a man order her around, like Talon McCreary was in this very moment. She was not the kind of woman who would let a man like him into her bed, let alone her heart. But somehow, she had. He'd become more than just a simple, ordinary fling. His touch was too addictive, but his love was too demanding and Lena just wasn't sure she could do this anymore.
"Why does it matter so much if I say it?" she asked, looking down, unable to look at him anymore. His eyes held an intensity that frightened her, and usually Lena considered herself to be pretty fearless. But his eyes, his demeanor, his words, they were all digging under her skin, burrowing their way into her, and it was all becoming too much for her to handle.
"You know why."
And the sad thing was, she did. The fight was dying in her, it had been dying since this crazy flingy thing they'd become entangled in began. But she couldn't give in. She'd fought too long and too hard to just give in to him here on this beach, just because he wanted her to.
Suddenly, a rush of cold air hit her arms and chest. She looked up and saw his back, as he began to walk down the beach and away from her.
"Where are you going?" Lena yelled after him. Talon was making good time, his steady pace putting space between them faster than she would have liked.
"Why does it matter so much if you know?" he threw over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around to look at her as he mimicked her answer to his own question.
Her throat closed a little as she watched him get further and further away. This was insane. She had the power to make him come back. She had the power to make him stay. All she had to do was say it.
But could she really do that? Could she really give in and say what he wanted her to say?
"Wait!"
It sounded like her voice calling after him. And it felt like her feet kicking up the sand as she moved towards him. But it couldn't be. She wasn't that kind of person. Lena would never let herself do this. So why had he stopped in his tracks? Why was he getting closer?
He was facing her now, as she halted in front of him. Talon's even stare sent shivers down her spine, and she opened her mouth, getting ready to finally say –
"Hi Honey, I'm home!" Tristan called out, his voice once again breaking the magical haze she'd been in since Taylor and his band of carolers had moved on to terrorize someone else's household. "Sorry I'm late, I heard the singing and parked down the street so I wouldn't get shanghaied into-," he ducked, reacting quickly as a leather-bound notebook came sailing out of his wife's sanctuary, slamming into the wall just behind his head with a loud thud. "Hey! What the hell?" he asked, poking his head cautiously around the doorframe.
"You ruined it! I was finally… and then Taylor and the stupid raindrops and kittens… and…." She'd gotten up and began pacing back and forth in front of her desk chair. "You suck!" she spat, shooting him a deathly glare as she pushed past him, stalking off around the corner in a huff.
"What'd I do?" Tristan yelled after her, wondering what he'd done to receive such an undecidedly warm welcome from his usually warm and welcoming wife.
--&--
He unknotted the sash of her robe, pushing the soft silk material aside, revealing every single inch of her smooth white skin. Lena watched in wonder as his eyes took her in, roaming over her body so intensely that she could almost feel it. She loved it when he did that. It made her feel like all the other women in his life didn't matter, and for these brief moments when he looked at her this way, her head almost let her heart believe that it was true.
Trembling fingers reached out, closing the gap between them to tug his midnight blue dress shirt from the waistband of his pants. Her hands worked quickly, unbuttoning each button quicker than the one before.
Lena sucked in a sharp breath when she felt him trace the curve of her breast with the tip of his index finger. She hadn't been expecting it, for she had been concentrating on working each and every button from the holes in his shirt. He continued to stroke her skin, adding the rest of his fingers. When his thumb circled her nipple, she felt it tighten even more.
"Holy crap," Tristan breathed, leaning back in the chair. He knew what the final book in Rory's Lena series was about, but this was the first chance he'd gotten to read any of it.
It was so vivid. Even if he wasn't there when this had happened, even if he hadn't lived through it, Tristan was sure that he'd have been able to picture it happening in his head as he read his wife's words.
But seriously. Talon? That was the best name she could come up with?
Finally, Talon kissed her. It was strange, that they'd never kissed before this moment. That first kiss all those years ago didn't count. No, a clandestine meeting between them all those years ago was not at all a proper first kiss. But now, when his lips met hers, his hands stroking her, she couldn't imagine any way this could be more perfectly proper.
She gasped, his lips finally tearing away from hers, trailing fire down her body. His mouth was making her weak, and he'd barely touched her. Lena couldn't hold back the moan as his tongue swirled a hot, wet circle around her areola, and the moan only grew louder when he tweaked the other with his index finger and thumb.
"Holy crap," Tristan repeated, shocked that his shy, innocent wife could write something so sinful. Obviously, he'd always known she wasn't completely innocent, and he definitely knew that she wasn't at all shy in bed, but this was different. Knowing that your wife was the secret author to a ridiculously popular romance novel series and actually reading it was like knowing the difference between night and day. There was an obvious and unquestionable talent behind everything that she wrote. She breathed a life into the words in a way that was both real and fantastical all at once.
All in all, he was impressed.
Ever so gently, Talon laid her out on the poker table, her robe a red silk pool around her smooth white skin. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that he was going to get this lucky when he was winning hand after hand tonight. He switched sides, giving her right breast the same treatment he'd given her left while his hand moved down to the apex of her aching thighs.
When Lena felt his finger slip inside her she gasped, rising off the green felt in pleasure. Talon continued probing her, in and out, in and out, eventually adding a second finger. She felt herself reaching higher and higher, but just as her climax was within reach, Talon withdrew his fingers.
Whimpering in protest, she opened her eyes, wondering why on earth he would choose this very moment to stop. She couldn't even utter an actual word, her head still up in the clouds as he placed a finger to her lips. "Sorry Lena, I had to stop."
"What!?" she asked, her body quivering in frustration. Lena hated herself, her body betraying her in that moment, revealing her true desire for him. "Why?
"Because."
"Because?" she asked, struggling to put her arms back into her robe. If he didn't want to do this, she damn well wasn't going to stick around. Lena wasn't the type of girl who just stuck around, letting some guy screw around with her. She never had, and never would be.
"Because, if we do this, we both know that once it's over, you'll be gone. You'll come up with some crazy story to tell yourself about how this meant nothing, and that I tricked you into it somehow. And that is not going to happen." His smile drove her insane. How dare he? "I'm not going to do this unless you choose me. Tell me that you want me."
"What?"
"Tell me that you want me." He repeated again, his smile gone, his face deadly serious. "Otherwise, you can leave, because I'm not playing this game for another minute."
Damn him. Lena sucked in a breath, crossing her arms across her chest. "This isn't fair, Talon."
"Baby, you don't know the meaning of fair." He snapped, leaning over her, his hands, which had once been stroking her so lovingly were now bracing him against the table. "Is it fair to jerk someone around for as long as you've been jerking me around? To go back and forth like you have, wanting me one minute, and the next, kicking me to the curb? What did you think? That I was just going to give you everything you wanted and expect nothing in return?"
She paused, taking a shuddering breath. "What do you want from me?" Lena asked, looking him in the eyes for the first time since she'd shown up that night.
Talon stared back, his gaze unwavering. "I want you to say it."
"Say what?" she asked, playing dumb. Lena didn't know how much longer she could keep this up. But she had to. She couldn't just give in, she'd come too far for that. No, he was not going to win. She couldn't lose.
"You know what."
She did know what. She'd known what he'd wanted the very second he'd waltzed back into her life a few short months ago. "Talon, I-," Lena stopped, her words catching, getting stuck before they could make it out of her throat. She paused, taking a moment before trying again.
"What are you doing?"
Tristan looked up, not expecting Rory to be standing in front of him, catching him with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. "Are you reading my manuscript?" she accused, her eyes narrowing.
"Hey, you threw it at me," Tristan defended himself. "If you didn't want me to read about what you think of our sex life, then you should have locked it up in your bottom drawer like you usually do."
"If I wanted you to read it, I would have handed it to you, and said 'here Tristan, please, read this and tell me what you think.' I was angry and frustrated, not thinking clearly."
"Well, you were certainly thinking clearly when you wrote this," he replied, gesturing to the pages in front of him. "Damn, woman. Where the hell have you been hiding this?"
"I haven't hidden anything." Rory said, stalking over to her desk. "Were you not aware of the four books I wrote before this one?"
"It's not like I wanted to read about Dean fondling you, or Jess jamming his tongue down your throat." Tristan said, letting her take her notebook away from him. "Oh, wait, I'm sorry. Dakota and Judd were the ones doing the dirty with Lena."
"You've sat there during town meetings, listening to Babette and Ms. Patty discuss whether Lachlan was hotter than Pascal. In detail. I mean, they practically read the book aloud in front of everyone. You never thought there was anything to this?"
"Once the world meets Talon, no one will ever discuss the Irish asshole or the Parisian pansy ever gain." Tristan smirked, confident that he was by far the best character his wife had created. "And by the way, can we talk about that name?"
"What about it?" Rory asked, hugging her book to her chest.
"Talon? Are you kidding me with that?"
"You don't like it?"
"Out of all the 'T' names in the world, Talon was the best one?"
"It tested well in the focus group." Rory defended her decision, getting more annoyed with him. How dare he have the audacity to not only read her story before it was ready for public consumption and then bitch and moan about the names that she worked hard to come up with? She was the professional author, not him.
"You let a focus group pick that?" Tristan's jaw nearly hit the ground. "You let some group of Midwestern housewives with nothing better to do than sit around and listen to someone throw out a few names pick it? For your own husband?"
"What? Did you expect me to give you a say?"
"Yes!"
"Why? You've never given an inkling of interest before," Rory pointed out. And he hadn't. He'd been nothing but supportive of her and her secret identity as the woman who penned the Lena Benson series. No one knew who the real writer was, and it only served to drive up the sales. Ever since it was revealed in an interview about the third book that the character and the events were semi-real, interest had soared to new heights. Everyone wanted to be the one to discover the true identity of Leila LaSalle.
"Again, I don't have much of a desire to read about your escapades with Logan and the others. I prefer not to pollute my mind with that crap."
"Hey, that crap has sold millions of copies in thirteen countries, thank you very much."
"You could sell trillions of copies in thirty countries and I still wouldn't want the image in my head, Baby." Tristan reached out for her, pulling her toward him. She let him, but she still looked a little irritated with him.
"You really hate your name?" She bit her lip.
"Is it set in stone?" If there wasn't anything he could do about it, it really wasn't any point in getting her upset about it. There were worse things in the world than having 'Talon' as a moniker.
"I guess not. I mean, it's not like they've submitted the release to the press yet." Rory was reluctant to change the name now, since she was a little more than half done, but if he really and truly hated it, then she would consider it.
This was new territory for her. Tristan was the only man who knew that he was a character in one of her books. She'd never heard a peep out of Dean about being named Dakota, and Jess hadn't come at her with a butcher knife about Judd. If they had, she doubted she would have given it too much serious thought. But she had to live with Tristan every day for the rest of her life. So maybe, giving in on a little thing like the name that would immortalize him to the female half of world wasn't such a big deal.
"Were there any other names that the focus group liked?" Tristan asked, trying hard not to let too much sarcasm seep in as he said 'focus group.' She was actually going to possibly let him have a bit of a say in something. This didn't happen often, and he wasn't going to ruin it by being rude.
"Well, there were a few." Rory said, opening the leather-bound volume in her arms to a page near the front. "Thor scored pretty high. The women said that it sounded primal, like you were going to rip my - Lena's clothes off the second you saw her."
Tristan never thought that there was actually a name that he'd hate less than Talon. Thor sounded a bit more like a Neanderthal than like a cultured, educated gentleman such as himself. "What else?"
"Teague was one of the winners too. Eleven out of the twenty-two women in the group liked it, but none of them knew why." Rory's eyes scanned the page in front of her. "Then there was Talbot, but several of them all thought that it sounded a little like a stuffy accountant."
"Teague, Thor and Talbot?" Tristan wasn't that impressed with any of them. "Any others?"
"It's not my fault that your parents picked 'T' for your name. If they'd picked something a little more romance-novel friendly, we wouldn't be having this problem." Rory countered, her eyes scanning the list of names and the comments that each of the women had made about them.
"Well, I apologize that my parents didn't foresee my marriage to an author of soft-core porn when my mother gave birth to me." Tristan said, unable to keep the sarcasm from coming out in his tone. "What's next?"
"Tag."
"Wasn't that the young guy that Rachel dated on Friends?"
"Yes."
"Next!"
"Ty."
"As in, 'Look Mom, I can tie my own shoes' Ty?"
"No, Ty as in Tyson."
"Like the chicken?"
"There's also Twain."
"Twain sounds like a Knitpicker."
"A Knitpicker?" Rory looked up, her brows furrowed in confusion.
"You know, like someone who likes to give those stupid holiday sweaters with snowmen and candy canes on them as gifts?"
"Next name?" she asked him, sensing that Twain wasn't going to work.
"Please."
"There's also Titus, Tito, and Troy."
"No, no, and no."
"What about Truax?"
"Truax? What the hell is a Truax?"
"It's a name, smart guy." Rory rolled her eyes. She had a lot of work to do, and having to go back and redo everything with a new name was going to be a taxing enough; she didn't need him to be so annoying.
"Whatever. What's left?" he asked, leaning back in her chair.
"Nothing. You went through the whole list and vetoed everything." Rory told him, shutting her book with a smack. "Now we're back at the drawing board. Any ideas?"
"Why don't you just call him Tristan?"
"I can't. You're Tristan."
"So?"
"So, I can't use your own name for you." Rory replied, running a hand through her hair. "It's supposed to be a secret. No one is supposed to know it's you that I'm writing about."
"Why does it matter?"
"Because."
"Because?" Tristan felt a little like Lena, repeating what his lover said.
"Because if someone figures out that Tristan is Tristan, then someone will figure out that Dakota is Dean, and Judd is really Jess, and that the handsome, devil may care Irish bloke is really Logan."
"Again, what does it matter?"
"Hello?" Rory would have hit him with her book if she hadn't already put the heavy object down. "It's called libel. You're a lawyer; you're supposed to know this stuff."
"I do know this stuff," Tristan said. "However, I doubt that anyone will notice."
"Tristan, people notice everything. There's a ten thousand dollar reward out there to anyone who can reveal the woman behind Leila LaSalle."
"You're lucky you married a millionaire," Tristan laughed. "If not, that ten thousand might just be sweet enough to make me turn you in."
"You'd never turn me in," she said, smiling brightly. "You love me too much."
"Yes, but money talks."
"Money may talk, but Luke kills on command." Rory's smile slipped into a smirk. "He was willing to slaughter his own nephew to keep my honor in tact, I doubt he'd think much of putting you to pasture."
"So I guess this means that we're sticking with Talon?" Tristan asked, feeling slightly defeated. It wasn't such a bad name. He could live with it. And he could definitely live with it a little happier than he could with a name like Truax.
"I think so," Rory agreed, plopping down on his lap, the chair rolling back a little from the force. "Besides, Talon's not that bad."
"I guess not." He sighed, resting his head against the back of the chair.
"The women in the focus group said it sounded sharp, like he was smart, but with a biting wit." Rory said, running a finger down his cheek. "They also said that he sounded smoking hot, but with a slightly dangerous edge."
"Really?" Tristan liked the sound of this.
"And one woman said that the name itself almost made her want to spontaneously orgasm right there in her seat."
"Reeeaaaly?" Tristan definitely liked the sound of that. Maybe Talon was the best name for him. The women in the group seemed to have him pegged.
"And all of them agreed that it was the best name they were given." Rory said, kissing him on the nose. "Once Stella gave them the brief run down of the plot and the general description of Lena's new guy, they thought hands down that Talon was the best one yet."
"Well, when you put it that way." Tristan grinned, finally giving in. Rory grinned back, relieved that she wouldn't have to go back and change every single 'Talon' in the story. Leaning over, she pressed her lips against his, weaving her hands through his hair. "Shall we?" he asked, pulling away.
"Of course." She gasped slightly when he stood up, taking her with him as her chair flew back against the wall, bouncing with the impact. "I think I can take some time off to do a little research."
--&--
Lena could taste his desire as his tongue darted between her lips, sliding along the inside of her mouth. This was exactly what she had been waiting for and there was no way she was going to let him back down again tonight. Every single atom in her body screamed out for him, chanting 'Talon, Talon, Talon' inside her head. Lena had to have him. She wouldn't leave empty handed again.
Her hungry hands pushed his jacket from his shoulders, letting it fall in a heap behind him. Before Talon could stop her, Lena had the first three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, and she was preparing to work on the fourth.
He caught hold of her wrists, effectively stopping her in the act of undressing him. "What are you doing, Lena?" he asked, his voice shaky as he tried to fight off the growing sensation flooding his veins. This was not normal; usually, she was the one fighting him, not the other way around. Being in this perpetual state of arousal wasn't fun, but he wasn't about to let her lord over him with a few well-placed strokes.
An innocent smile played on her lips. "You know exactly what I'm doing," she responded, her fingers grazing his cheekbone. Silently, Talon cursed her for not being able to just give it up and leave him alone.
"We can't do this," he told her, cradling the side of her face in his hands ever so gently. "We can't keep going in circles like this. You don't want to be with me, and I don't want to be with someone who doesn't want to be with me. So stop. Please, just stop."
"Talon…," she whispered, tears already filling her big blue eyes. "I already told you. I meant what I said to you on the beach the other day. I meant every word. You have to believe me."
"I don't know if I can." He sounded defeated, and that scared her more than anything. He couldn't really be ready to give up on them, not when they'd come this far. Not after she'd finally said what he'd wanted her to say all along.
"If I can say it, then you can do this. I don't know why you can't just accept it. Please, stop pushing me away." A tear trickled down her cheek. "I don't know what else I can do to make you believe me."
"Are you sure?" he asked, gently wiping the tear away.
Lena's eyes met his, the resolution within their depths obvious. "Stop asking me that. I wouldn't say it if I wasn't sure."
"Are you positive, then?" It was impossible for her to be angry at him when his lips curved upwards like that.
"Shut up," she commanded, sealing her lips over his. Her hands went back to work on his buttons, as Talon began pushing at the hem of her sapphire blue cocktail dress.
"Oh, you love me," he joked, letting her push his dress shirt away from his chest, falling back on the bed, her body following his.
"Yeah." Lena's eyes lit up, looking brighter than they had in years. "I really, really do." It was funny. All her life, Lena had feared saying those three little words. But now, sprawled out on top of a man who quite possibly could be the love of her life, fear was the furthest thing from her mind.
"Are you done yet?" Rory asked, pacing back and forth in front of the door to his study. When she agreed to let Tristan take a peek at the finished product, she didn't think it would take him this long to read. Maybe she should get him Hooked on Phonics next Christmas. Obviously he could use it.
"Yeah, I'm done," he told her, gesturing her to join him.
"Well?" she asked, looking at him expectantly.
"This is great, Ror."
"Really?!" She squealed in excitement, her insides dancing with joy.
"Really," Tristan confirmed, but she could tell that there was something he wasn't telling her.
"What is it?" she demanded, a hand on her hip.
"Well…." Tristan trailed off, not sure he wanted to nit pick. "It's just, what did you mean when you said that Talon 'quite possibly could be the love of her life?'" he read, word for word.
"It's semi-autobiographical."
"So, you don't think that I'm the love of your life?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not at the time." Rory rolled her eyes. "Come on. We did nothing but fool around and fight with each other before that moment. And it's not like you knew that I was your one true love the first time you saw me."
"On the contrary." Tristan stood, walking over to where she stood in front of his desk. "I knew that very instant that you were the only one for me."
"You did?" Rory didn't buy it. "At sixteen years old?"
"Sure." He pressed a kiss into the skin of her collarbone, sucking it lightly before moving on to another patch. "When you know, you know."
"Sure, like I believe that."
"Believe what you like, Darling," he said, the words brushing across her skin, making her tremble. "But as we all know, fact is stranger than fiction."
"So, you really think Talon works?" She asked him. Not that there was anything they could do about it now. The press release was out, revealing Talon McCreary as the final chapter in the Lena series. But there was no harm in asking.
"I really do." Tristan assured her. "Besides, it really doesn't matter what I think, so long as your Midwestern housewives think it works."
"I guess you're right." Rory agreed. "Though, you have to admit, a Tristan by any other name is still as hot."
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