AN - first of all, an apology. This isn't an update of either of my current stories (sorry about that!). This one shot idea started gnawing away at me a little while ago, and wouldn't leave me alone till it was written down. Now that it's done, normal service can be resumed with updates to other stories! This is pretty different from anything I've done before, and started off as an experiment to see what I could do with it. It won't be for everyone, but I do hope some of you like it. It feels like a long time since I've written anything M rated (a whole year since involved, which I cannot believe!), so I'm really feeling the nerves at the moment!
If you're not a fan of smut, it's probably a good idea for you to press the back button on your browser right now. I also really need to say a huge thanks to it'sembarrassing. Not only is she my lovely pal, but her encouragement and help really got me to the finish line with this, as it does with most things!
One more thing to mention - the title, as well as the concept came from the song One Last Time by Ariana Grande. I'm going to stop listening to the radio so that this doesn't happen to me yet again :-)
I've probably rambled enough, here goes nothing...
I was nowhere near still sleeping when I heard the mail hit the wooden floor in the hall. It wasn't often I was in bed late enough to hear the noise, since I'm usually up at the crack of dawn and out to barracks before it even gets light. I didn't give a second thought to the noise, not realising the impact it was about to have on my life. When I eventually got out of the cosy heat that my bed was giving me and wandered down the hall of the flat to skip breakfast and head straight to lunch, I remembered to pick up the bundle of envelopes.
When I heard him at the back of my head, lecturing me for not eating breakfast, I almost smiled for a second before it all came back and replaced the smile with a sick feeling in my gut. It was progress at least - it was one of the only days where I hadn't woken up with my first thought of everything that happened nearly three years ago, and the way I fucked up. It was weird the way he could still just pop into my head without warning, I could almost hear him speaking to me. In a way I hoped that never wnt away, even though it was a form of torture.
Morning was always my favourite time of the day with him. He was always awake before me, every single day. I'd never lost count of the number of mornings I spent waking up with his mouth on my neck and his hands wandering over my body to wake me up in a way that he knew I'd enjoy. 99 mornings it was.
I told you I didn't lose count.
Over one year together, we managed 99 mornings. Pretty respectable for a Private who kept getting called up for duty at the last minute, and a washed-up ex Captain who was in and out of rehab. Not that he was actually washed up, but that's how he always described himself.
Every time I woke up on those 99 mornings, the first thing I heard was him telling me that he loved me. I couldn't get used to it at first. For a girl who'd never heard those words from anyone except Mum (when she wasn't too busy sorting out the kids, so basically never), and Dad (but only when he was pissed out his nut, so actually all the time, but then he loved everyone in that state) it was nearly too much. It was too much actually. I wanted to look away at first when he said it, I was mortified at the thought. He was so serious, and his face looked like he actually meant it. I should have known at that point that we never had a chance, that we were from completely different worlds.
It took a long time of him saying it for me to believe that he did actually mean it. It took even longer than that for me to ever say it back to him. If he was bothered by that, he didn't let it show. All he ever did was love me. And all I ever did was let him down.
"I love you."
It was the first thing I heard, before I even opened my eyes, enough to make me smile before I woke up properly. I was still half asleep when his breath warmed up my neck, and he repeated the three words. His fingers were under my top and tickling along my chest, dragging along my bra. My body couldn't decide if I was gonna burst out laughing from the tickling, or if I was gonna give into what he was doing first and jump on him.
"Why are you sleeping in this?" He sounded nearly offended as he ran his fingers along the outside of my bra, him trying to unclasp it as I struggled to remember why I'd fallen asleep in my clothes. Memories of the crap day before, with Kinders barking order after order at me from the training ground reminded me. The punishments; the treatment from every superior since the minute they found out about me and him had been the same. Not that I'd be sharing it with him; he had enough on his plate already without worrying himself about me.
"I was too knackered to get ready for bed." The words came out at the same time as a yawn. I couldn't get on top of the exhaustion. It was making my whole body feel heavy, even when he pulled my clothes off slowly, pulling my t-shirt over my head and laughing at the complete lack of help I was giving him. He finally seemed to manage my bra at the same time, undoing it with a grin like he'd cracked the code of a safe when he let it fall away onto the floor with the rest of my clothes.
"Poor Molly" he tutted. "I think I need to take you on holiday, somewhere I can keep you naked in bed for a fortnight." He sat back on his thighs from where he straddled me, just looking me up and down with only my knickers on. He didn't look away once. I saw his tongue catch on his bottom lip for a second as he watched me with a look of achievement on his face now that he had me the way he wanted me. I couldn't have stopped staring at him if I'd tried.
"That's better."
I couldn't hear anything else of what he said when he moved forward again. His lips warmed up my skin better than any cuppa could do first thing in the morning. Didn't stop me having a go at winding him up when he covered my chest with his hands to explore with his fingers, the size of his hands making me feel tiny. He took one of my nipples in his mouth and ran his tongue along it, not taking his eyes away from mine for a second. A feeling of something gorgeous started to travel up my body when he made his move, but I ignored it, knowing we'd get there soon anyway. He'd already found more ways than I knew existed to bring me to the point that I'd forget my own name. This time I wanted to wind him up beforehand. I squirmed away from him as I spoke.
"Don't fancy making me a cuppa do ya?"
He let go of my nipple from his mouth with a careful nip of his teeth, just enough to make me shiver when he did it, then his head popped up just above mine, nearly nose to nose, with hardly any space between us. He looked at me like I'd taken his favourite toy off him, his voice wasn't far off a sulk. "No I fucking don't."
"Pity." I made sure to do a big sigh to follow it up. "I'm parched."
I could feel a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth; I was dying to laugh at the fucked off look on his face. I was so distracted by feeling pleased with myself that I didn't realise he'd moved. He had me pinned down now, his arms holding my wrists above my head as he looked me up and down. I felt totally exposed all of a sudden, and I saw his expression change; he knew he had the upper hand. Fuck. Shouldn't being in the army teach me something about not getting distracted and exposing myself to attack? I was a lost cause when it came to him though, there was no point even trying to fight.
His eyebrows suddenly wiggled with something that let me know I was in for it, and even though I'd lost control, I quietly patted myself on the back about that fact. I knew that look, and it usually ended up with good things, like my eyes rolling back into my head. He lay his chin on my stomach and watched me for a minute, still holding me so tight that I couldn't move. The grin that lit up his face was something that took my breath away. The only thing I could compare it to was the way I'd seen him look at the start out in Afghan, like he was in control and he had it all worked out.
He let me go for a second, and I'm sure I must have moaned out loud when his head moved lower. He kept watching me as it did, then his voice wasn't much more than a growl as he told me to stay still, sending some kind of signal to my brain that I didn't give a shit about winding him up anymore. The grin got wider the further from my head he got. The only way I could touch him was to grab onto his hair with my fingers, but he wouldn't stay in one place. The cheeky fucker only said one more thing before he disappeared under the covers.
"I'm pretty thirsty myself"
Jac was in the kitchen when I got there, sniffing the milk with a look that said she didn't trust it. You'd think after a year of being flatmates, she'd get used to the fact that she needed to be the one to replace it when it went off. When she saw me at the door she jumped a bit, putting it down.
"Christ, what you doing still 'ere? I thought you were at barracks?"
"Nah, day off." I flicked through the bundle of bills and leaflets and handed her what was addressed to her. There was a massive brown envelope for me that I opened first, with details of a course my CO was badgering me to go on next week. The usual lecture about how it would look good on my promotion application.
"What's that?" Jac had moved onto the bread now, examining each slice to find two without mould that she could stick in the toaster.
"Just some course I need to go on. Bit boring, but I get an overnighter in the hotel at least. Might go and see the little bleeders while I'm down there."
I carried on looking through the paperwork, trying not to let my voice change when my eyes scanned the list of seminars on the day and got stuck on one.
Fucking hell, this must be what a heart attack feels like.
Jac didn't notice the minor breakdown I was having silently in the corner as I waved away the toast she put in front of me. She took it away as quick as it'd been put down. "Sounds alright. You going on your own?"
"Yeah" I could feel the bile rising in my throat but I kept it together. "You know me. Best off on my lonesome."
"Just make sure you stay out of trouble down that London. Actually, forget that, trouble follows you anywhere." She laughed as she walked out the door in a hurry, a piece of toast stuffed in her mouth. "Have a good day."
The doorbell rang and interrupted me from the cooking I'd stupidly started that morning and was making a total arse of. Charles was coming out of his last session at Headley that afternoon, and I was trying to make his favourite meal for him to celebrate. When I answered the door, I was still in an apron and covered in flour from a stupid attempt to make pastry for the first time. Why I didn't buy the ready made stuff I'll never know. Not that it mattered anyway, it never got eaten in the end.
I got the fright of my life when I saw Major Beck standing there; the last person in the world I expected at my door. I'd assumed at first he was there for Charles till I saw the grim look on his face when I told him he wasn't home. He was there to speak to me.
He stood back and waited for me to invite him in. I rocked back on my heels and opened the door to let him pass me, wondering what the fuck had happened for him to be there. He wasn't my boss anymore, and Charles had finally handed in his resignation weeks earlier, the same day we got home from that holiday he'd promised me, and after months of soul searching. Beck made his way to the living room and shook his head when I offered him a cuppa. He didn't even sit down.
"I'll cut to the chase Dawes. We're not willing to accept Charles' letter of resignation without further discussion. He's one of our finest officers, and not one we're willing to part company with easily."
Suddenly it was all making sense. "Isn't that something you should speak to him about?"
"I have, Dawes. It's not something he's willing to entertain. Not in his current situation."
"His current situation? What'd that be then?" I had a feeling I knew exactly what he was getting at, and it was forcing my heart to speed up in my chest. I'd always known that if he'd stayed in, he would have an uphill battle to move forward with people knowing he was shacked up with someone who used to be in his chain of command. It wasn't exactly helping me out either. I'd thought transferring out of 2 section would help, but I'd still taken endless amounts of shit from my new CO and platoon about it. Him quitting had made the problem a bit easier, but I felt the guilt as much as the relief. Thank fuck Beck didn't know the full story of what we'd done when we were on holiday, he'd have a heart attack if he found out.
"I think you're aware of what I'm talking about. His private life is affecting his ability to make sensible decisions about his future." Beck cut into my thoughts, leaving me with no idea what to say to him. We both knew exactly why he was here, and what he was getting at, but I wanted him to be the one to say it out loud.
"What is it you want from me exactly. Sir?" I think the way I called him Sir showed the lack of respect I was feeling for him at that point in time, but he didn't look bothered in the slightest.
"There's no easy way of saying this Dawes, so I'll just come out with it. Charles is on the fast track to what could be an outstanding career in the Army. There aren't a lot of officers of his calibre and potential out there. He lives for the Army. It's a part of his identity, a very important part. I might add the same about you. You've proven yourself to be an exemplary soldier. The Military Cross isn't handed out to just anybody, as you know."
"Sorry, but I still ain't seeing the point. You're gonna have to spell it out to me." I could feel my blood boiling, somehow making him say it out loud was the only thing I could focus on.
"I'll make it crystal clear." He stared at me, no sign he was sorry for what he was about to say. "Charles resigned his commission. He gave up everything he'd ever known. He did it for one reason; that was you."
I came out fighting, even though in my heart of hearts I knew he was right. "He didn't quit for me, he did it for his own reasons. I wouldn't have let him do that. No way."
"It's the truth. He admitted it to me when I pushed him for a reason Molly."
"Don't call me Molly. I'm not Molly to you."
"I apologise. Private Dawes. We had a candid conversation, when we discussed the terms of his resignation. He admitted that if you weren't part of the equation, he wouldn't be doing it."
"I don't believe you."
I did fucking believe him, that was the problem. The guilt was already eating away at me, long before Beck had shown up. I'd been distracted by plenty of other things, especially in the last few weeks, but it was always there in my nut.
"That's your prerogative Dawes. All I'll say is this. If he has given up everything for you, it's only a matter of time before he'll begin to resent both you, and that decision. The Army was his life for a long time. He may believe for now that he can walk away from that life, but a year from now? 5 years? I'll be gobsmacked if you manage to weather the storm together. Surely it makes more sense to make the decision to walk away now. Save both of you the pain further down the line while there's still a chance for this to be resolved."
I could feel the tears begin to blind me, but there was no way I was letting them fall. Not in front of him.
"Get out."
For the first time, he looked almost sorry. "I'm sorry if you feel I've overstepped the mark. I want to see both of you come out of this as successfully as possible. I had to let you know the full…"
"I said, GET OUT."
I didn't walk him to the door, all I remember was watching his back as he walked out the flat, and left me questioning everything I thought I knew and felt. I let the tears fall then, not that I had much choice.
I managed to get a cab right outside the train station, for once the Londoner in me proving useful in the heaving crowds. I lobbed my bags into the back and told the cabbie where to drop me, giving him as much small talk as I could while I stared at my phone. 2 missed calls and voicemails.
My throat was dry as I pressed the delete button on them without even listening. I knew it couldn't be him. It was probably just Jacs checking I'd got here alright, but for the last week, the memory of those last voicemails from him had been tormenting me, even in my sleep. I switched my phone off and stuck it in my pocket, giving the driver my full attention this time.
"Sorry mate, you were sayin'?"
"Molls. It's me. I've tried phoning the flat but you're not there. Can you give me a ring, let me know you're alright? I'm leaving Headley shortly, should be home in a few hours. Love you."
"Molly. Where are you? I'm in a taxi from the station. Phone me back please."
"OK. This isn't funny anymore, where's your stuff? Why are your keys still here? Answer your fucking phone Molly."
"Please. Whatever the fuck it is that I've done, you need to come back and talk to me. Whatever's wrong, we can fix it. Do not do this."
"It's Charles... Remember me? The one you pissed off and disappeared on? I didn't think I'd prove everyone that warned me away from you right. Turns out I did...Sam misses you, wants to know where his mate Molly is. He asked if you don't love us anymore. I'll never forgive you for this Molly."
I got out the cab when it arrived at the front door of the hotel, sticking a twenty in the driver's hand, and still trying to wipe the memory of those voicemails and the guilt I felt whenever I replayed them in my head. I could see him making the calls in my head, pacing the hall of the flat with his hand rubbing the back of his neck, stressed out his nut. I'd told myself at the time that it was all for the best. The happiness he'd feel at having the army back in his life would get him past any sadness he had at me not being there anymore. It'd pass quick enough, I kept telling myself I was being cruel to be kind.
The last message had been the one to destroy me. He was obviously drunk, not himself, slurring his words down the phone as he spoke. He'd left that one nearly a fortnight after I'd gone, and it took every single bit of willpower I'd had not to answer and let it go to voicemail when I saw his name flash across the screen. When I'd heard the message I switched my phone off and chucked it, never wanting to hear his voice again. It was too painful.
The day of seminars was painfully slow. There were hours of lectures from different guest speakers that I should've been interested in, but couldn't focus on. Until the last name was called, and the people round me stood to clap the last speaker of the day. The one who was speaking about his injuries in Afghan, and how he'd pulled through months of rehab to go on and continue a hugely successful army career.
Major Charles James.
Ever since I'd seen his name on the list of speakers that was in the envelope with the invitation that'd dropped through the letterbox, I knew this was my one chance to watch him, to take him in. I'd been hiding away for years, avoiding the lads from 2 section incase they were reporting back. Even Jac kept her mouth shut about the fact we were still in touch.
Here, I could watch and hide away, no need for him to know I was even here. There were over 500 people spread out in the room. The chance of him even looking near me was real, but slim. Still, I'd take that chance. I was desperate.
He walked out on the stage, his head bowed with a little bit of what looked like shyness at the number of people standing to clap his arrival. My heart almost stopped in my chest, the sight of him, even from a distance, still enough to stop me in my tracks. My mouth was dry and I couldn't even pull myself together to join in the huge claps he was getting as he walked on. The last few speakers had been balding middle aged men, and I'm pretty sure the response was just as much for the way he looked in his dress uniform as it was for his story, but maybe I was just speaking for myself.
The relief inside of me when I realised there wasn't even a hint of a limp when he walked was huge. He'd come back from his injuries and looked just as strong as he had at the start of my first tour. He looked happy, if a bit nervous. I felt a rush of adrenaline pass through me as he looked through the crowd, stopping just before he came to my row. I let out the breath I didn't even know I was holding as he started to speak.
"Thank you ladies and gentlemen, for the warm welcome."
All eyes in the room were glued on him, and he cleared his throat to begin his story. He kept the attention of the whole audience for at least half an hour, speaking about his five tours, and ending on the experience of taking two bullets on his fourth. He glossed over most of it, making it sound as if it hadn't been the most fucking terrifying day of my life. I couldn't help but bury myself down in my chair a little bit when he mentioned that the only reason he'd survived was cos of a quick acting medic. He didn't show any hint of emotion when he said it, and I wasn't sure if I was glad or devastated.
When the end of the session came, the audience stood to clap again, the standing ovation making his cheeks flush and his head go down towards the floor. The audience were invited to ask questions - I didn't think we'd ever get to leave the room with the amount of hands that shot up to ask him one. He answered them all without getting annoyed once at the number of people to deal with. I was so proud that I'd almost forgotten to be terrified he might see me.
The last question of the day came as he stood to leave the stage, one of the women in the audience heckling him with a cheeky "Are you free for a date Major?" There was a bit of a laugh from the rest of the audience as they'd stood to leave, the relief of the day being over making everyone a bit giddy I think.
I wasn't giddy though. I felt sick to my stomach. Even more so when he cleared his throat and looked into the audience, with the spotlight still shining on him. He grinned shyly, and buried his hands in his pockets. It made my heart jump into my chest when I remembered him doing the same to me. He looked up from lowered eyelids with amused eyes as he said the words that made me fall back into my seat.
"I think my wife might have something to say about that."
I made sure to fall in with the crowd when I was leaving the giant function room, not willing to stand on my own and risk him spotting me. It was safer to hide in the bigger groups of people, to try and pretend I wasn't on my own and about to fall apart. I headed straight for the bar, knowing I was taking a risk, but needing to find something to numb me to how it had felt to see him again.
I sat up at the tall bar, ordering a double vodka and tonic from the bored looking barman. I grabbed my drink from him before the glass had even touched the surface, and made sure my face wasn't showing to anyone who walked in. The barstool was high enough for me to need to jump up onto it like a muppet. It was another thing he would've been sure to take the piss out of me for.
It was his presence I felt, before I heard his voice. The bar was pretty deserted, and I knew someone had walked in. The same barman who I'd cut off when he tried to have a bit of banter with perked up, ready to try and chat to someone else who was in a better mood than me. I could see him look up expectantly at whoever had rolled up behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, every nerve ending suddenly alive. I didn't need to turn round to know it was him.
"Whisky please."
Oh shitting hell. I'd known it was him, but hearing his voice practically in my ear made me need to fight the urge to spin round and look at him while I had half a chance. I resisted though.
"Make it a double" he added without any emotion in his voice. He pulled the stool beside me from where it had been tucked under the bar and sat down at it, his long legs making a mockery of the battle I'd had to get on the same height of chair with any dignity. I dared myself to look out the side of my eye. He was sitting, staring straight forward. He took the drink from the barman, who by now had realised he was on a hiding to nothing if he wanted a chat. Poor sod. I almost felt sorry for him; a bored observer on what I knew was gonna be a shitty conversation.
He didn't wait for me to start talking, doing it himself. "You actually turned up then. I'm surprised"
What the fuck? "You knew I'd be here?"
"They send a list of course delegates to every speaker. Wasn't convinced you'd actually turn up though." He was swirling his drink round his glass, staring at it like it was gonna tell him a secret. He still hadn't looked at me, that much wasn't a surprise though. It actually made more sense that he'd known I was watching him. He'd been prepared, trying this whole time to look as if he had his shit together. It actually made me feel a bit better about the whole thing. I paid the same attention to my drink as he was to his. "Nice touch, the wife comment."
He snorted, actually snorted, as he picked up his glass and downed the thing in one. "Thought you'd appreciate that. Didn't like to mention that I hadn't seen her for three years, it ruins the effect a little." He lifted his head to the barman and somehow managed to order another two drinks without saying anything.
Finally, he turned to face me, his eyes were burning with an intensity I hadn't seen in a long time. The two drinks were delivered to us and he lifted one towards me in a toast. "We should probably sort out a divorce, Mrs James. Although you'd need to give me things like an address; a phone number." He grinned to himself at his own sarcastic joke.
His rudeness didn't bother me that much, I knew it was the same bravado I'd seen from him a million times before on tour. I was too busy trying to ignore the fact that I needed to lean forward and touch him. It was like a physical craving. For some reason it became clear to me then, I don't know why it'd taken so long to make sense. I just needed closure from him, and from us. That was what I needed to move forward. One last time with him, knowing it was the last time. That would let me walk away and move on with my life. I rummaged through my bag to find what I needed before I grabbed my drink and downed it in one, needing the confidence to pull this off.
"Fine" I tried to sound as detached as I could. "I'll do whatever you want tomorrow."
His eyebrows raised at me as he watched me stand to leave. "Tonight. I'm not staying."
"Yes you are." I dropped the extra keycard the receptionist had given me that morning onto the wooden surface of the bar. "Room 142." I practically ran out the place, heart racing, before I could run through what I'd just done in my head.
One last time, that was all I needed.
It was at least an hour of sleepless tossing and turning in that bed before I heard the movement at the door. I listened as it was opened, then he stopped at the entrance, a chink of light coming in the room from the hallway. My back was to the door, but I could see the light where I lay. I knew it wasn't just my brain trying to trick me. He was there, he'd come.
The door closed suddenly, the light disappearing and taking me back into the pitch black. It was silent for so long that I couldn't decide if he'd thought better of it and left again. I couldn't have blamed him if he had, none of this really made sense, not even to me.
My question was answered when I heard the deep sigh that came from the inside of the door. He was still there.
He moved across the room without much of a sound. I was concentrating so hard on trying to figure out where he was that I nearly jumped a foot in the air when I felt the mattress dip down beside me as he sat down with another sigh. I held my breath, my back still facing him. I was frightened to even move, worried that I'd scare him off if I did anything. I wasn't sure what i was more scared of; the possibility of him staying, or of him upping and leaving.
We were both completely still, the only clue I had that he was still there were the deep breaths I could hear coming from where he sat. I knew I would have to turn round, to look at him and let him know that I was awake. But I couldn't. I just tried to make sure I was memorising the whole thing. Never again did I think I'd be in the same bed as him, hearing the nervousness in his body as his breathing sped up. He broke our stand-off and moved nearer to me, till I felt his breath tickling my ear. He'd moved forward so his hands were on the bed, on either side of me. I jolted a bit as he got nearer, surprised for a second about how close he'd got without me picking up on it. He must have felt me jump.
"Don't be scared" he whispered in my ear, low and reassuring. It almost felt like old times.
I had just enough room to turn my body round, and it brought my face in line with his. His eyes were on mine as I blinked in the dark to try and see better. There was hardly enough light to see anything of him, but I could just make out the stare coming from him when he braced himself against the bed with his arms. There was hardly any space between our bodies, and it let me smell that familiar smell that was him.
I couldn't breathe for a second. It was like stepping back to a time where I'd had it so bad for him that I couldn't think straight. Only problem was, I could see in his eyes that it wasn't like that for him; they were dark, his expression was tortured for a minute as my fingers got braver than the rest of me and brushed his hair back from where it had fallen forward onto his forehead. When I touched his skin, he just let out a frustrated moan. I wasn't sure which of the two of us it was aimed at.
"I shouldn't be here." He pulled away from where my hand had touched him, not even bothering to hide the look of anger on his face when he did it. I tried to touch him again, and he pulled away again.
"I know. Thank you." I could only whisper it to him, cursing myself for letting a tear fall down the side of my face when I saw the way he was starting to shut down and close himself off to me. I'd done that to him. I didn't have a chance to torture myself any more before I felt his lips on mine. There was nothing soft about it, nothing tender. He kissed me with a kind of anger, his teeth were knocking against mine. My head was spinning from how fast he'd leaned in and kissed me. There was no buildup, no anticipation. Just anger coming off him in waves.
If you'd asked me beforehand, I'd have said that I wouldn't care about the fact that there was no tenderness in what he was doing, nothing to say he still cared. Why should I expect it to be like it always had been between us? That was then - before I'd walked out on him and disappeared without a word. If you'd asked, I'd have told you that I'd happily take anything I could get from him. Anything to be close to him again. Maybe I should have more respect for myself, but not right at that minute I didn't.
His hands moved to my wrists, holding them down to stop me from touching him like I'd tried to earlier. He moved so that he was kneeling on the bed, still keeping himself as far away as somebody could while they were kissing you with a force that'd be scary from anybody else except him. He was hurting; I could feel every bit of it pouring out of him, and I knew for a fact he was punishing me by not letting me touch him. My lips were already swollen and sore from the few minutes he'd been kissing me, but he kept up enough pressure to my wrists that I couldn't move them and touch him. One of his hands moved to the silky camisole I was wearing and pulled it off me, the material ripping before I felt his fingers dragging over my nipples.
"Charles" my voice broke when I let myself say his name out loud for the first time in years. Until then it'd been something I didn't talk about; the secret buried inside me. I wasn't loud enough against his lips, still bashing against mine as he bruised me inside and out. "Charles" I almost shouted it this time as I struggled against him. "You're hurting me."
It was like I'd chucked a bucket of cold water over him. He pulled away and stood up, his lips looking just as painful as mine felt. The only thing I could feel was my heart pounding when I tried to breathe steady again. I pulled a blanket over me and sat up when I saw him pacing the floor at the side of the bed. All I could make out in the dark was a hand being shoved through his hair, pulling the thick curls, the ones that were a bit shorter than I remembered. It was what he did when he was stressed; if I shut my eyes I could still remember him pacing the room and doing it the day he'd finally decided to resign his commission. It was the same day we got married. Even the guilt I felt then was nothing compared to this. I could hear him muttering under his breath, and suddenly felt so fucking sad that it'd come to this.
I made myself stand up, facing him this time, like I hadn't done before. I dropped the blanket so that he could see I wasn't hiding myself away from him. He hadn't scared me away.
"Please, come here?"
I didn't get any nearer to him, waiting for him to decide what he was gonna do. He sighed, as if it was against everything he wanted, and made his way towards me. I had to fight against the urge to cover myself up when he moved slowly to me. He was acting as if I was some kind of unexploded IED in the middle of the road, slow and grim-faced. In an ideal world none of the shit that had happened would have mattered, and I could cuddle up against him and beg him to give me some sort of sign that he didn't hate me. But it had, and I couldn't, and he obviously did hate me. So I stood my ground instead, stuck my chin up with the kind of confidence I'd always been good at faking and watched him move towards me in the dark.
This time when he leaned in to kiss me again, it was slow, not angry. He dropped kisses on my lips as if he was saying sorry for what he'd done to them earlier, soft little drops that soothed them. It didn't last for long, and we were both soon kissing as hard as we had been. His hands stroked a path up my bare back as he finally gave in and let me press myself against him to feel how much he wanted this.
Now that my hands were free to touch him, I made the bloody most of it, running one through his hair and the other pulling him closer to me. My hand disappeared under his shirt, tracing up the definition on his stomach, remembering how it felt. I ran my fingers over his abs. He felt fitter than he used to be, back when I knew his body; stronger somehow. I couldn't stop myself from wandering lower, fingers tracing against the V that sat low on his stomach and led to where I needed my hands to be. This time I was the one who felt out of control, needing to get my fill of him.
I was hardly even conscious of him undressing himself, but I had to hold back the sudden need to cry when I felt him tense when I got to his trousers. He stopped me and unzipped himself. A memory of that first night in Bath had stopped me in my tracks. We'd both been nervous and awkward, worried that the fantasy after 6 months on tour wouldn't match up to the reality. That night he'd had to stop kissing me on the bed to get his jeans off, both of us pissing ourselves laughing at the two man job it was to get him out of his boot. I was on the bed, only in a pair of knickers, pulling at the bloody thing and trying not to hurt him while he tried to push it down between bursts of laughter.
A little bit of me died inside when I realised we'd never have that again. We wouldn't laugh together at the ridiculousness of a situation. He might be willing to give me this, for one night. But there wouldn't be anything else, and I needed to accept that. I could feel my throat burning, the tears that I wouldn't let fall forcing their way to my eyes and making me pull away from him again for a second till he put his forehead on mine, the two of us completely still for a minute.
I could hardly breathe, all of it hitting me at once. I'd been counting on the fact that I just needed one last time with him, closure on what had happened. Something to let me move on with my life. The fact I knew this was a massive mistake on my part, and something I definitely shouldn't be touching with a bargepole wasn't enough to make me put a stop to it. I couldn't bring myself to stop now, not when he was here naked in front of me, and especially not after three years of lonely nights imagining this. If I could only do this once, I would make sure it bloody counted.
I brushed my fingers against him and it made him draw in a breath and whisper a quiet "fuck" under his breath that I hardly even heard. I knew he was holding out on me. I tightened my hand and moved in a slow rhythm that I knew would make his head fall back. When he had the reaction I knew he would, I wasn't fast enough in wiping the grin off my face. He caught me and smiled back, just a little bit.
"You always did know how to drive me nuts, Dawes."
He hadn't called me that in years. It was enough to make me smile again, the happy memories chasing away the bad ones for a change. His breathing was getting faster and shallower as I moved my wrist and kept a tight grip, going slow enough to do what he said and drive him nuts. He moved me so that we fell onto the bed together, my hand still wrapped round him and taking its time to move all the way down the length of him. He was so hard that I knew it wouldn't be long till he tipped over the edge. I couldn't wait, it was my favourite thing in the whole world to watch.
He must have known what I was thinking cos he flipped me round so that he was on top of me, forcing me to pull my hand away and link both arms behind his neck. My knickers were off before I knew it, and he'd made sure my plan to show him I still knew him, and what he wanted, was completely fucked.
It didn't matter though, because I was under him without any time to think. He was deliberately rubbing the tip of his cock against my clitoris, back and forth, torturing me. I squirmed for a second before I couldn't stand it anymore.
"I need you. Please"
He carried on torturing me, the tip of him disappearing inside me for a second. I bit down on my lip, chasing the start of the orgasm that I could feel building inside of me. I didn't get a chance to get there before he pulled back out, rubbing against me for a few seconds again, just where it counted.
"I needed you. You left me."
I was gutted by the tone of his voice, it was final and hard. He always had been the one to sulk and brood whenever we fell out, and this wasn't any different. Only this time he knew he had the upper hand. The sensation of his hard-on rubbing a rhythm against that sensitive bit of flesh was causing the blood to leave my head. My heart was hammering as I started to feel myself fall over the edge. He felt it too, pulling away from me again before I could follow it through. He was doing it deliberately, refusing to let me come.
"For fuck's sake" I screamed at him, everything boiling over. "I'm sorry. I thought it was for the best." I could feel the tears streaming down the corners of my eyes. I wasn't holding them in any more.
Suddenly he moved, he was deep inside me in one quick movement. Fucking hell, I'd forgotten how full I felt with him inside me. It was blissful and hellish at the same time. I could feel the aggression coming off him in waves when he pulled back out just as quickly, leaving me empty and frustrated.
"You thought it was for the best?" His voice was breaking as he lunged inside of me again. This time his aggression didn't take me by surprise. I wasn't letting him go, I gripped my legs around his arse like a vice, and my arms round his neck like a limpet, refusing to let him move, holding him there. His head fell down into my chest before he looked up at me, and I wished to god he hadn't. I could see it all, his face was just a huge wall of hurt and fear. He wasn't the Charles I'd fallen in love with. He was bitter and angry, and I'd done it to him. His words made the crushing in my chest even worse.
"You tore me apart. I hate you."
There was a massive sob building up in my body. He'd laid it out on a plate and it hurt like I hadn't imagined it could. We stayed like that for minutes, both of us silent, only heavy breathing filling the air. I couldn't speak. I could only concentrate on what he'd said and the feeling of him still inside of me, telling me the opposite of what he was saying.
After a few minutes I couldn't bear the tension building in my body any more. I needed to show him how I felt, because telling him wasn't an option. I started to rock my hips so that there was some friction between our bodies, building up a rhythm that was forcing him to grind against me even harder. He angled my hips with his hands, and moved my legs back so he was deeper inside of me, catching my clit every time he pulled away. I was still clinging onto him, my head buried in the space between his shoulder and his chin, remembering the smell of him, feeling the beads of sweat building up on his back as he buried himself in me over and over again.
I was losing everything as the pressure built up slowly, layers of fluttering were building and building as he thrusted. I managed to hold tight onto the one thought that was keeping me going, not even realising I'd said it out loud till I felt him tense on top of me when I did it. "You didn't used to hate me. You loved me. You told me every day."
He only stopped for a moment before he carried on, lunging inside me yet again.
"When are you finally going to understand?" There was a deep breath between every word he said, I think he was trying to force himself to focus. We were both so close to the edge, the bed was rocking against the wall with the force of how hard he was driving in and out of me. He stared down at me, still moving. "I only hate you because I fucking love you. You own me. Just like you have since the day I met you."
I could hardly concentrate on what he was saying, my whole body was screaming with the need for the kind of release it hadn't had in three long years without him. I had no filter, I wasn't conscious of what I was telling him. I was just feeling.
"I love you." I knew I said it out loud cos he moaned and picked up his pace even more. My fingers were clawing at his back, scratching at the skin like I was possessed. My heels were digging into his arse cheeks, forcing him to go harder and faster.
"Say it again" he urged as he paid attention and rode me harder. He moved his hand down to my clit and only needed to touch me once before I was in freefall. I felt completely weightless as I clenched around him and cried out, giving him what he wanted as I repeated what I'd said over and over again. I don't know how many times I said it - too many though. It was nearly unbearable, my whole body was shaking as my orgasm took over and shut me up. My legs gave out, no strength left in them. I felt like I was melting into the mattress. All I could do was cling onto him as I shuddered, over and over. I could feel his breathing catch and his whole body tensed. The noise he made was brutal, almost like he was in pain. He growled and sank his head into my shoulder when I felt him come inside me. I held onto him as tightly as I could, feeling him shake as he shouted my name into my skin.
We were both soaked in sweat, the blankets from the bed on the floor in a heap as we lay still in the same position, recovering from what had just happened. I was exhausted. I'd clawed the sides of the sheet from the bed as we moved, the whole place looked like a bomb had hit it. I probably looked the same but I didn't give a shit anymore.
The rest of the night passed in a blur. There wasn't another minute when he wasn't touching me; with his fingers, his cock, his tongue. My whole body felt raw everywhere. I was aching, but I wasn't willing to stop him. I needed him any way I could have him, and I knew it was the only chance I was getting. The very last thing I remembered before I passed out, exhausted, was him spooning me, still inside of me after taking me from behind, slower this time, both of us shattered. His heavy arm had pulled me right into his chest after, and I forced my hips back to keep him exactly where he was. He held me even tighter.
"Don't leave. Stay." I knew it was pointless, but I'd tried anyway as I buried my head into the pillow and finally gave into sleep.
When I woke up in the morning with daylight streaming in the window, he was gone.
Before I had a chance to jump up and search the room for a trace of him, something to hold onto, my eyes caught onto the white A4 sized envelope on the pillow. I sat up in bed, still sore and exhausted and emptied the contents onto my lap. The first thing I saw were the photos, my face and his, lit up with happiness that morning on the beach when we'd decided to sod them all and get married, just the two of us. I traced over his face with my fingers, the grin of doing something in secret that was just for us lighting it up.
There were more photos; Sammy in his school uniform. God he'd grown up in the space of 3 years. I was willing to bet he would be taller than me by the looks of him. He was a lanky beanpole, the spitting image of his dad. I felt like my chest might explode with pride at how grown up he looked, not that it was anything to do with me anymore.
There was still something heavy and chunky in the envelope - when I pulled it out I found my set of house keys. The same ones I'd posted through the door when I left, hardly able to see what I was doing through the tears. They still had the same keyrings; the silver loveheart that Sam had given to me with his bright red cheeks the morning I moved in, and the picture of the three of us the day we'd gone to Alton Towers and screamed on the rollercoaster.
The last thing in there was a folded piece of paper, I almost didn't even notice it. When I unwrapped it, the solid gold band fell out onto my lap.
My wedding ring.
I'd barely had a chance to wear it, we still hadn't told anyone we were married before I left. We'd kept it a secret for just the two of us to enjoy for a while, me wearing both of our rings round my neck. I slipped it onto my finger at the same time as I felt the tears fall onto my cheeks. I looked at the paper it'd been wrapped in, the four words in the neat handwriting that I'd never forget saying all I needed to hear.
Come back to me.
Maybe last times were overrated.