"Spencer," she breathed his name with such passion he growled. Pausing, he straightened, sweeping her off his lap momentarily while he stood up. Bending over, he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, maneuvering carefully as his mouth settled down on the exposed upper part of her cleavage while he kept his eyes on his line of travel. The room was dark, save for the flickering light of the half dozen cinnamon scented votive candles.
He deposited her gently on the bed, sliding his hands up her sides and pulling her sweater off in the process. She sat on the edge of the bed.
"Oh god," he stopped and couldn't help laughing. The corners of her mouth curled upward in a smile as she reacted to his discovery.
She'd purchased a camisole set for the occasion. Under the lovely burgundy coloured sweater she'd been wearing was a lacy black camisole patterned with glow in the dark skeletons.
"I'm sorry. Does it ruin the mood?" she asked deadpan, reaching for the front of his trousers and swiftly unzipping them.
"Ab-ab-solutely not," he managed to stutter as she drew his pants down to his ankles. He stepped out of them and tried to stand still as she explored.
"You wore appropriately coloured socks," she commended, acknowledging the pumpkins on one foot, the black cats on the other.
"Uh huh—oh" he managed as her hand found the front of his briefs.
"Spencer? Are you all right?"
He emitted an unintelligible sound that Samantha interpreted as an affirmative and rewarded him with a squeeze.
"Smnth." A small gasp.
"I'm sorry. What?"
Another squeeze.
Another gasp.
"Samantha!" he half-pleaded, half-admonished.
"Spencer," she countered, her voice husky with desire. "I love you."
"I love you too."
He dropped to his knees in front of her and swept the straps of the camisole off her shoulders. Leaning forward into her, he pressed his mouth on one shoulder, kissed all the way across her other and moved his hands to cup her breasts as he did so. She moaned her approval and her pleasure as he worked to pull the camisole up over her head and off.
"Spence," she breathed, almost reverently.
He pushed her gently down onto the bed and then dropped down to join her. Twining his legs between hers, he knelt on the bed's edge and resumed kissing her upper chest, sending her into orbit when he captured a breast in his mouth. Her hands found the back of his head and she clutched at his hair, reacting to the sensations he was causing her as his tongue swirled around first one and then the other breast.
She murmured her approval and arched into him. His hands moved from her chest down to her jeans and he undid them and helped her slip them off.
"Oh god, Samantha," Spencer shook his head and laughed. The panty, instead of having camisole-matching glow in the dark multiple skeletons, had a single glowing skull motif across the front. He gave her the most serious look he could and said, "Now, this is a mood killer. An absolute horror show."
"I worried it might be too much," she responded straight-faced. "Spence, perhaps you should just take it off me."
"I believe you're right," he told her. He reached out with one hand to do so and she stopped him.
"With your teeth."
"All right then," he bent over immediately. Gingerly, using just his teeth as directed, he tugged at the panty. She squirmed and shivered as his facial hair tickled her thighs. He made very little progress with her constant squirming. Sensing mutual frustration, Samantha lifted herself up off the mattress for a moment and taking his hand, hooked one of his fingers into the panty's waistband. Working together, she was quickly divested of the garment.
"That's cheating, you know," he pointed out.
"Did you want me to put it back on?"
He stood up, jaw dropped, stared at her incredulously for a moment.
"Spence!" Locking eyes with him, she leaned forward and in one swift movement, stripped his briefs from his body and said, "I was kidding!"
She took his hands and pulled him towards her, not stopping when his shins brushed against the side of the bed. Leaning back, she let herself fall down onto the bed, taking him down with her.
The tangle of arms and legs; hands and fingers gently exploring and lips caressing heated skin eventually gave way to mutual desire and Samantha and Spencer made love long into the night.
Totally spent, he rolled off her and pulled her into his arms and covered them both with the down-filled comforter. Samantha snuggled against his chest, tucking her head in under his chin.
"You know how earlier tonight you said the first time was magical?" she whispered.
"Yeah?" he murmured, running his fingers through her hair.
"It was, I agree. But," she kissed his throat, "Every time is magical. I love you, Spencer. I love you so very much."
"I love you too, Samantha. More than I ever thought was possible."
She nuzzled his neck and happened to catch sight of the clock sitting on the night table behind him. "Oh look, it's after midnight," she said.
He nodded.
"Happy birthday, sweet man."
"Thank you," he replied. "It sure is."
"It will be. I'm not finished yet."
She patted his chest, kissed his throat once again and forewarned him, "Best we sleep now. There's a long day ahead of us tomorrow, my love."
"Mmmm hmm?" he queried sleepily.
"I'm not kidding, Spence. We need to sleep. Got plans for tomor—uh, later today."
He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her a little tighter for a moment. "All right, good night then." They kissed once again and settled in to sleep.
Samantha woke up first later in the morning and extricated herself carefully from his embrace. He stirred slightly but didn't awaken and Samantha hurried to shower and then headed into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.
Once again, she was silently thankful that Spencer, when relaxed, was such a sound sleeper. She loved being able to surprise him with breakfast in the morning and fondly recalled the first time she'd done that, after the first magical night together. As she turned the bacon in the pan, she replayed that morning in her mind.
He'd come padding barefoot out of her bedroom, hair impossibly tousled yet still breathtakingly attractive. Wearing just the bottoms of his pajamas taken from his go bag, he was genuinely surprised to find bacon, scrambled eggs and toast—and more importantly, coffee—waiting for him. That night, Samantha had picked him up, as the team had returned very late from an out of town case. Oh, the subterfuge, she recalled with a smile. At the time, they had still been keeping their burgeoning relationship from his team, and he'd texted her to meet him at the train station to prevent discovery.
She'd worried it would be awkward, but that anxiety was quickly alleviated.
"Good morning," he'd said, followed by an enthusiastic "Is that coffee?!"
She'd immediately took the coffee pot and poured him a mugful of the strong brew. "Good morning to you, too. Sugar's here," she indicated the bowl on the countertop, "And milk's in the fridge, obviously." She opened a drawer to get out a spoon for him and was surprised when he slid his arms around her and kissed the side of her temple.
"Thank you," he'd indicated he meant the coffee, and then tipped her head up so he could kiss her properly. As they broke off the kiss, he'd murmured in a most serious tone, "And thank you."
"For?" she'd wondered, genuinely puzzled.
"Just everything." He'd squeezed her against him briefly then released her. "I don't have to tell you how apprehensive I was about," he paused as he blushed slightly, "Last night. I know we've talked about how I've never—" he'd paused again and drew a deep breath and changed focus. "You've been incredibly patient and understanding and I can't tell you how much I appreciate that. Appreciate that you—" he'd paused yet again as she slid her arms around him. Drawing strength and comfort from this action, he soldiered on. "I appreciate that there hasn't been any pressure. We haven't rushed into this. And we've progressed to this point where I'm actually getting comfortable talking about these feelings."
She'd made eye contact with him, intending to let him read the expression on her face.
He was silent for a long moment while he'd searched her face and finally whispered, "I love you, Samantha."
Stroking his cheek with one hand she'd nodded, "I love you too, Spence. I know how difficult this is for you. You tend to keep things to yourself and I respect that. To share the way you are right now, the way you did last night. Please know that I understand how challenging that was for you. I love you Spence."
"Last night was magical, Sam. Making dinner together, even cleaning up together, you putting up with Psycho instead of what should have been something more romantic than that. Just being together was so magical, and then making love with you for the first time," he'd trailed off, overcome with emotion. She'd stepped in to hug him closely and they'd stood together, locked in that embrace for a long moment.
Samantha was jarred back into the present by the sound of the shower running. Shutting off the stove, she moved the pan containing the eggs onto the warmer section and turned her attention to draining the bacon and then buttering toast. That accomplished, she set out napkins and cutlery on the table, and readied plates and mugs on the countertop.
Minutes later, Spencer appeared, freshly showered and dressed in a pair of casual dark corduroy pants and a Halloween themed sweater. His hair was as tousled and untamed as always and Samantha grinned at the sight of him.
"Good morning to my favourite magician," she purred, leaning across the countertop to kiss him and then handing him a mugful of coffee. "Breakfast's ready. I just need to dish it out."
He waited while she spooned eggs and bacon onto the plates and then they carried them over to the table. As they ate, they marveled about the beauty of the Shenandoah area. Spencer reiterated how enjoyable their entire day at the apple orchard and the pumpkin patch had been; and how moving and meaningful their night together was to him.
Samantha was elated by how much more easily the 'morning after' conversation was apparently becoming for him. It made her heart sing that he was that comfortable talking about it—love, sex, all aspects of a relationship—and the significance of this was not lost on her. Still, the timetable for any progression in their relationship rested solely with Spencer as far as she was concerned.
"Happy birthday Spence," she said as she poured him a second mugful of coffee.
He sighed, a deep, contented sigh and replied. "Thank you. Thank you so much for everything this weekend. I've been so spoiled!"
"Not done yet," she remarked, eyes twinkling.
He shook his head and laughed. "Bring it on."
They drove up Skyline Drive again, and again the mountains and fall colours vista captivated Spencer. The road wound through the mountains, passing several lookout points along the way.
"Did you wanna stop at a lookout point, Spence?"
"If there's time?"
"We can make the time."
"But if you have something specific planned, it's okay," he promised.
"Maybe on the way back?" she replied. The weather was decidedly cooler this morning and the sky was cloudy, the sun partially obscured. Part of their itinerary included an indoor event. Sam hoped the sky might clear up and afford them another chance at sight seeing later in the afternoon.
Spencer nodded his agreement to her suggestion as she drove on. Less than half an hour later, they arrived at the Halloween Haunt and corn maze. Spencer could not hide his delight as he alighted from the car and ran around to open Sam's door.
They spent an hour getting lost in the corn maze and eventually finding their way out, after Spencer employed the 'left hand on the wall, make left hand turns until you're out' strategy.
"Learned that from a computer game," he told her.
"Seriously?" she was amazed.
"Garcia," he explained. When he saw the look on her face, the look that demanded further explanation, he elaborated. "Years ago, I got shot in the knee and had to have surgery and was unable to join the team in the field for several weeks. To help pass the time, and to," he paused and made finger quotes in the air, indicating he was quoting Garcia, "'to help keep my brain sharp' she showed me a couple of computer games. While they satisfied the RPGer in her, they also required a bit of strategy and thinking, rather than relying just on luck and quick reflexes. One of them taught me that 'keep going left' strategy."
"Oh," she replied and then broke into laughter when he continued.
"Drove her crazy that I actually beat her at that game. Every time."
They held hands and made their way to the Haunted House where Spencer was in his element. Another ninety minutes was spent being 'frightened' by witches, ghosts, skeletons and headless horsemen before Samantha had to drag him out of there, such was his obsession with the ax murderers and chain saw wielding demons.
They laughed as Spencer critiqued the authenticity of some of the displays in a good-natured manner. As they drove back to their cabin, Samantha sang the happy birthday song to him after which he critiqued her singing as well, giving her high marks for effort and enthusiasm.
"But I can't carry a tune to save my life, can I?"
"Actually, you can. The song isn't particularly challenging to sing, but your heart and soul came through clearly."
"Awwww."
She laughed and pulled into the parking area of a lookout point to afford Spencer one more opportunity to enjoy the panoramic view of the autumn colours. He looked angelic, she decided; his hair illuminated by the sun and the autumn-like colours highlighting it. Her phone found its way out of her pocket to take photos again as he reveled in the glory of the Virginia landscape.
An hour later, they were back in their cabin nursing mugs of freshly made coffee and chatting about their day. After draining hers, she excused herself, telling him she had dinner preparations to make.
"Is there something I can do to help?" he offered, rising from the sofa.
"Yes, there is," she replied, and then looking him squarely in the eye told him, "Stay out of my way, Birthday Boy."
Wide-eyed, he countered, "Yes, ma'am!" and breaking into laughter, he sat back down. She opened her purse, searched for a moment and then withdrew a deck of cards and handed it to him.
"There you go, play cards for a while or something," she directed. He gave her a faux reproachful look and muttered, "Solitaire. Story of my life."
"I have a colouring book too, if you'd rather keep busy doing that."
He laughed and told her he'd perfect his Solitaire game instead. "Unless you're sure I can't help you with something."
"I'll let you know if I need you."
"Also the story of my life," he teased.
Half an hour later, with every possible permutation of Solitaire solved, Spencer pulled his iPhone from his pocket and resorted to playing Bejeweled. He was elated to hear "Spencer, will you come here for a sec, please?" after successfully beating his high score yet again. Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he hurried to the kitchen.
"Just watch that the pot doesn't boil over," she directed. "I turned it down, it should be okay, but if it does start to bubble up, just take it off the burner."
He nodded and watched as she disappeared to the bathroom. Lifting the lid off the pot, he noticed rice bubbling away. He replaced the lid and surveyed the kitchen. An assortment of chopped vegetables sat in bowls on the counter, including mushrooms, green onions, peppers and bok choy. What looked like chopped up scrambled egg was in another bowl. Another bowl held what he assumed was seeds of some kind.
"NO SNOOPING!" rang out from the bathroom and Spencer wondered, "How the hell did she know?"
Minutes later, she returned, dressed now in a pair of skinny jeans paired with a deep purple cable knit cardigan over a white blouse.
"How long before dinner?" he asked.
"Maybe half an hour?" she posed, knowing that it would only take her about ten minutes to cook and assemble the stir-fry.
"Is there time for me to shower and change?"
"Yes, of course. Go have your shower."
She waited until she heard the water running and then raced to the box she'd stowed away when they'd arrived yesterday. Hurriedly, she put up birthday decorations all over the cabin. The last of the streamers went up just as Spencer reemerged from the bedroom, dressed neatly in dark suit pants and her favourite purple shirt.
"What the-?" he laughed, "Oh wow, you really went all out, didn't you? This has already been the best birthday of my life—"
"It's gonna get even better," she promised. "Just gimme about ten minutes now, to finish up dinner."
"At the risk of getting chased out of here again, may I help?"
"Actually, yes, there is something you can do." She went through cupboards and drawers, found what she was looking for and presented him with a corkscrew and a bottle of the same wine they'd shared on their first magical night. "Will you open that, please, and let it breathe for a couple minutes."
He nodded and set about doing so as she quickly finished cooking their dinner. As she dished the food out onto two plates, Spencer filled two wine glasses.
"Sit down," she indicated the dinner table. He set the two wine glasses down at their places, and put the wine bottle down in the centre of the table.
He fought the ingrained urge to see her into her seat and sat as directed. She set his dinner before him and laughed as he rose anyway and saw her into her chair before reseating himself.
"This looks incredible!" he announced, surveying the fried rice and chicken stir-fry on his plate.
"Happy birthday, Spence. Dig in."
He took the first mouthful, swallowed and proclaimed, "This is incredible! Teriyaki chicken, right? Wow, it's awesome."
She nodded happily, excited that she'd managed to make another meal that he was so readily enjoying.
"You're so lucky. There have been some disasters. I'm English Literature, not Martha Stewart. I wouldn't exactly call myself particularly talented in the kitchen."
"It's delicious. And you are fantastic in the kitchen," he met her eyes and rose to her obvious bait. "And the living room. And the bedroom."
He took a long sip of his wine, savoured it and waited for some sort of comeback. He didn't have to wait long.
"Oh, you bet I am. You'll see."
He gulped and told her, "I have seen!" Rolling his bottom lip in his teeth, he ventured further, "I have seen. But I wouldn't mind seeing again. And again," he added playfully.
They enjoyed her wonderful dinner and after they'd finished eating, Sam cleared away their dishes and stacked them in the sink. She filled it with soap and water and while it was filling, she took smaller plates, a cake knife and more forks to the table.
He refilled their wine glasses while Samantha opened the refrigerator and removed the white box. Spencer watched from his vantage point at the dinner table and broke into a wide smile as she brought a small cake, lighted candles twinkling atop it, over to the table and set it before him.
Once again, Samantha sang the birthday song, then directed, "Make a wish."
"It's already come true," he whispered huskily, dangerously near tears. He blew them out, all at once and rose to kiss her, "Thank you."
He swiped at his eyes and then picked up the knife, cutting and serving up two pieces of the chocolate dessert. After they finished cake, Spencer stood and cleared up the table.
Once in the kitchen, he put away the leftover cake and moved to the sink, intending to wash the dishes.
"Oh, NO," she protested. "It's your birthday."
"It is, and my wish is to spend the rest of the evening with you. So the sooner this all gets cleaned up, the sooner we can adjourn to that." He was washing plates as he spoke.
"I can do it later."
He paused and looked her directly in the eye. "Or we can do it together now." He handed her the tea towel and plunged his hands back into the water to finish washing the dishes. "There isn't that much to do," he pointed out. She was drying cutlery and he was already washing the last of the pans.
Handing it to her, he took a corner of the towel to dry his hands.
"See?"
Nodding, she stifled a laugh and watched as he moved to the table to retrieve their wine glasses and the not-yet-empty bottle.
She put away the last of the cleaned dishes and circled around the counter to join him by the sofa.
Accepting her refilled glass, she motioned to the sofa and waited for him to sit down. Their eyes met as per usual, he waited for her to sit first.
"No. Seriously, Spence. Sit down."
He did and immediately, she knelt down in front of him, as straight as she could so that they were at eye level with each other.
He looked into her eyes and saw the same feelings mirrored there that he'd felt for days. The love was plainly obvious. Pure. Honest. His eyes welled up when he saw hers do so and he couldn't help himself. Leaning forward, he took her chin in one hand and told her "I love you, Samantha."
"I love you too, Spencer," she whispered back at him, then leaned in to kiss him. Softly, her lips covered his, tasting, gently touching. After a moment, she leaned back and whispered again, "Happy birthday, my love."
He mouthed 'thank you' silently and his eyebrows rose when he saw her hands go to the front of her sweater. She unbuttoned it slowly, revealing the sheer white blouse under it. He could see that there was something beneath the blouse and as she unbuttoned that garment, he stopped breathing for a moment.
Where last night's Halloween themed camisole had elicited smiles and laughter, tonight's was a lacy, feminine purple concoction of beauty.
He found his breath, rose from the sofa and took her hand. As they walked towards the bedroom, Sam detoured them to the kitchen to retrieve the whipped cream from the fridge. Eyes wide, Spencer followed her to the bedroom, ready to share another magical night and make this his happiest birthday ever.
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"There is only one happiness in this live, to love and be loved." -George Sand
End Part Two
