Calleigh sang along with the song floating out of her stereo from her living room, which was alternating between upbeat country and hip-hop songs. She was reorganizing her closet that Saturday morning, making way for Eric's things now that he was living with her. She never would have imagined merely three or four years ago that their relationship would go from best friends to lovers over the course of, in a matter of speaking, one afternoon. The sexual tension had been there for a while, but had never snapped until that sunny afternoon in the hospital, when he, in limited words, expressed his lover for her. It didn't matter that she was barely conscious when he did so, but the fact remains that if he hadn't, she probably wouldn't be here doing this today; cleaning her closet, covered in dust, while she sifted through ten years and more of forgotten memories.
"Uh, Cal…"
It was then that Eric walked in, his upper body invisible except for his muscular arms, which were wrapped around a large box. His head peeked around the side of it and he frowned slightly at her amused expression. She reached over and pulled a piece of fuzz out of his buzzed hair, and flicked it onto the ground, not able help the giggle that escaped her lips.
"You can just set that wherever you can find space in the bedroom," she directed. "Then come help me sort through this stuff."
Eric did as he was told and returned to Calleigh's hunched figure, which was digging for a box behind a stack of college sweatshirts. After enjoying the view a little, Eric copied her on the opposite side of the closet. He returned victoriously with an extremely dusty tub full of something colorful and metallic.
"Really, Cal, Mardi Gras beads? You saved cheap plastic beads?" he questioned, eyebrow raised to let her know he was kidding with her.
"Hey, don't make fun of me. Those beads are special."
"Mmhm, sure," he replied, a grin spreading across his face. He tossed the box aside and pushed a few things around, finally coming across something solid and white, something that surely didn't belong in a closet.
Eric shook his head. "A microwave? Clinging on to our college years a little, aren't we Cal?"
She straightened up once again and looked at him. "Well, what if my microwave stops working or something and I'm in a hurry, and I have no way to heat up my food?"
He just stared at her with that eyebrow still cocked. A new song started at the same time: Hey Good Lookin', the Jimmy Buffet versioin, one of Calleigh's favorites.
Calleigh sighed. "So I'm a bit of a hoarder, sue me."
Eric chuckled and wrapped his arms around her waist. "That's what I love about you: you're always prepared."
Calleigh herself smiled and leaned into his embrace, kissing him softly on the lips. She broke it off, however, before it got too heated.
"Later," she whispered. "Right now, we have to make room for your stuff." Eric let her slide out of his arms after one more peck, and they went to work on their separate sides.
As Calleigh began to dig once again, she came across an especially dusty box that appeared to not have been opened for an even longer time than the others. She cut the tape down the seem where the flaps of the box met, and opened it. She never expected to find what she did. It did, however, make her giggle silently at the memories these babies brought back. With those memories, a new idea struck her head. A very fun idea for both her and Eric.
It was going to be an exciting night.
***
At the end of the day, Eric collapsed on his back onto the bed. He sighed heavily.
"God, Calleigh, I didn't know one person could have so much crap," he said.
Calleigh, who was sitting next to him, patted him on the arm and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. "Always prepared, remember?"
He gave her a look but it turned into a smile. "Thanks for letting me move in with you. My place just didn't feel like home anymore."
She returned the smile. "I'm glad you feel the opposite here. I can't wait to come home to you every day."
She kissed him again, a bit longer and deeper this time. When she pulled away, he made a soft sound of protest, but her grin returned.
"I'll be right back. Just stay here and don't move."
She rose off of the bed and made her way to the guest bathroom where she had hid the box along with a few other things she had discovered in the depths of her closet. Changing quickly and making a few hair and makeup adjustments, she exited the bathroom, made a stop at the stereo, and returned to her-their-bedroom. That was a thought she was going to have to get used to.
She hovered behind the shut door for a moment, gathering her courage and telling herself mentally to stop acting silly, that this was going to be great and adding that she should get an award for being able to still fit into these after nearly fifteen years. With that thought to guide her, she opened the door slowly.
He was picking at a loose thread on his wife beater, eyes downcast until the small squeak of the door opening caught his attention. Immediately his mouth went dry and the only words he could remember consisted of, "Wow…Cal, you look…damn."
She giggled and strutted tantalizingly into the room, standing at the foot of the bed. His reaction was more than she could have hoped for, and the way his eyes were glued to her body and his words came out in a stutter only gave her more confidence. She was wearing her old Daisy Dukes, which she secretly loved even today, though many years ago she would only wear them to make her father angry. In addition, she had a cut-off long-sleeved flannel shirt that tied just under her breasts, which also used to serve the same point as the shorts, her used-to-be-expensive worn out boots, complete with the Stetson she wore all the time as a teenager.
"Do you like it?" she asked innocently, turning around slowly, pausing when her back was turned to him. She knew that her body was not exactly as it was; a bit of squats and lunges could do amazing things for the booty.
By the time she was facing him once more, she could see him swallow hard and the rising bulge in his jeans. He was leaning back against the pillows, but Calleigh could tell it was taking all of his self control not to jump up and take her right then and there. She climbed onto the bed, crawling slowly to him like a predator with its prey. When she was completely straddling him, his hands pinned by hers at his hips and lips were inches from his, she leaned in as if to kiss him, hovered there, then pulled back merely an inch from his luscious, full lips. Eyes still closed in anticipation, the brown fluttered open to meet blues staring back at him,
Eyes locked together, Calleigh kissed him once, twice, a third time. "You never answered my question," she murmured sexily. A brushing caress of lips and a tug on his bottom lip next. His mind was in a pool of goo somewhere under the floor at this point. He groaned, leaning forward in a desperate attempt at a real kiss, but she hindered it once more.
"Ah-ah-ah, you have to answer, cowboy, with words," she said softly. Truth be told, while she was enjoying this control immensely, it was killing her not to be able to devour him yet.
It didn't take much for him to comply, however. "Damn, Cal, you look fucking amazing. I love it."
Calleigh grinned. Still keeping his hands firmly plastered to the sheets, she finally gave in and gave him the kiss they had both been longing for. Hard yet passionate with love, fiery. When his tongue began to trace her bottom lip, she obliged and opened eagerly. A few more minutes like this and she decided that no clothes were better than these old things any day, and that's when she broke apart once again.
"Cal," Eric whined. He stopped immediately when she put a finger over his lips and sat up, releasing his hands, and he realized what she was doing. She started with her Stetson, pulling it off and shaking her long, curled hair out. Setting it on his head momentarily, she swiped it off just as quickly, muttering, "Better leave the country to me." He chuckled and watched her set the hat brim up on the side table. While she did this, Eric lifted his hands to untie the shirt, but Calleigh stopped him.
"Don't make me go get the ropes," she warned seriously. "Then everyone will know that we had this little escapade."
The mere thought of Calleigh tying him up and doing as she pleased with him had Eric harder than he thought possible. She had a point, though: people at the lab weren't stupid, and it wouldn't take three guesses as to how rope burns mysteriously appeared on his wrists one day. For now, he would just have to watch, and somehow control himself while doing so.
Calleigh resumed where she had stopped, and slowly -too slowly, in Eric's opinion- began to untie the knot. She slipped it off her shoulders and sat back in nothing but the Daisy Dukes, a black push-up bra, and the boots, of course. Eric's heart was beating faster than ever before and his pulse was racing with every motion Calleigh made. When she leaned once again to kiss him, his erection grinding to her heat, he could barely breathe. Soon he felt his shirt being pulled away from his body and he assisted by lifting his arms. It was thrown haphazardly with her own garment across the room.
Calleigh couldn't resist his delectable body and began to kiss the well-defined planes of his chest, in a circle around his nipple. She nipped and laved each one of his washboard abs, even bit softly on one of the sides that made a 'v' to his pants. Planting more kisses down the trail of dark hair that disappeared behind the button of his jeans, Calleigh purposely fumbled clumsily with the button and zipper of his pants. Eric groaned. "Tease." She chuckled but finally got the zipper down and began to slip them off his legs, boxers coming down with them.
Immediately she wrapped her fingers around him and began to stroke in steady up-and-down movements. She watched him, his beautiful face the picture of pleasure: eyes fluttering, mouth slightly agape, a hint of a smile on his lips. Calleigh added a new trick and stroked him in random patterns, rotating her hand in the process. Eric groaned, but it melted into another when he felt the wet swipe of her tongue on the head, then trailing down his length, finally taking him in her mouth as much as she could.
It was when she began to suck where the head met his shaft that he had to stop her; not because he wasn't enjoying every damn second of it, but because he didn't want it to end this way tonight.
"Cal, stop," he breathed. She looked up at him in a teasing way.
"Why?" she asked sweetly, caressing him softly.
He explained as he moaned and flipped her onto her back. "Because if I'm not inside you in the next minute, I think I might die."
Calleigh didn't even laugh. She was too wet and ready for that, and she assisted him in helping get the rest of her clothes off. Normally when they went to bed, the foreplay was the other way around, and she was surprised –pleasantly surprised– at how easily he slipped in despite his large size. When he had filled her completely, her eyes shut, Calleigh began to rock her hips against his, urging him to join her, but he held her still. After he took a second to collect himself, he resumed where she had left off.
He started in slow, languid strokes, but those didn't last long at all. Despite how much he loved to take it slow with her, tonight was not one of those nights. He sped up a bit, and his grunts were joined in harmony with her sweet moans. A few minutes at an even faster speed, he took her calves and placed them on his shoulders in a desperate attempt at a new change in angle. His attempt was a huge success, as her moans turned into downright cries for him as he hit the sweet spot every time he thrust hurriedly into her.
Eric himself actually moaned as he fought to hold out for her. Deciding to help her a little, he planted his thumb on her clit, and she gasped. "Eric…"
"That's it Cal," he urged when he felt her internal muscles begin to contract around him slightly. It took all of his self control not to spill into her right then. "Come for me, baby, come for me…"
She cried out and wrapped her arms around his neck, meeting him halfway in a kiss that nearly drove her over the edge. She broke away from his mouth. "God, Eric, I'm so close," she moaned.
Eric's mouth left hers and she whimpered, but it turned into a groan when his lips clasped around a nipple. When his teeth scraped gently over the sensitive skin, she exploded, her orgasm rocking her to the core as wave after pleasurable wave washed over her. Not a second after she began to come, Eric did as well, and he buried his face into her neck, moans muffled by the sweaty skin his lips were pressed against.
Both panting heavily, Eric sat up and kissed her softly, murmuring something into her mouth. It didn't take Calleigh long to decipher: "I love you, I love you…"
***
The next morning Calleigh awoke to a soft humming sound: it was, in fact, Eric. Humming. Calleigh recognized the tune immediately and sang along in her head. Hey, hey good lookin'…what you got cookin?
"Have I got you hooked?" she asked sleepily, snuggling into his chest.
Eric laughed. "Not quite. I just have a feeling that song kind of got you in the mood for some of the most amazing sex in my life."
"Just wait till I hear That's How They do it in Dixie. That's what really gets it cookin'."