Chapter 4: Natural Processes
I awaken in darkness, the candle having long since winked out, and for a fraction of a second I don't know where I am. Then I feel her, the curve of her back pressed to my front, my arm draped over the dip of her waist. The realization starts my heart with a kick: April is in my arms...April is in my arms! She is warm, much warmer than I am used to, and my body has partially found its way atop the linen. But even asleep it is apparent that I couldn't bear to let her go. I breathe softly, almost afraid of moving, as if it could somehow break the spell that has charmed us tonight.
Having crashed on April's couch many times in the past, I am familiar with the sound of her sleeping. I have lost count of the times we have watched TV together until she, ensnared within the folds of a blanket, has drifted off to the dulcet tones of a chiseled (yet, in my observation, intellectually questionable) actor. It is a sound I associate with our time together, a sound that makes me smile to no end. She is beauty at peace.
I lower my chin to her shoulder, kissing the teeth marks I am sure I have left there.
"I love you." I whisper, hoping somehow it finds its way to her in the realm of her dreams. To my utter shock, it does. Her arm wraps around mine a little tighter as she gives a happy sigh.
"Are you awake?" she whispers drowsily.
So much for not disturbing her. I, a trained ninja, expected better of myself—but considering the circumstances, I let it slide.
"Mm-hm." I murmur into her hair.
She takes my hand and cups it to her breast.
"Better." she says.
I can almost see her smiling in the dark. I slip my hand down her body and begin rubbing her naked behind, paying particular attention to where the slope plunges down to meet with her thighs.
"Even better." I tell her.
"That is... not fair..."
Her own hand reaches back, fingertips curling at the lower edge of my plastron as she begins to grind into me. All parts of me initialize for recommencement. She must think I'm playing it cool, but in actual fact my heart has jumped back into my throat.
"Donnie?"
"Mm-hm?" I answer tightly.
"I..uh..."
I can feel her touch me in places that only she has touched. She wants me.
And she doesn't have to ask twice.
When I awake again I am alone in a sun-drenched room. The smell of hot food laces its way in through the crack beneath the door, and suddenly I am aware of one very real thing: I am ravenous with the kind of hunger I have not experienced since our frequent days of famine as a youngster. I fling an arm out, confirming she is gone, then roll to my feet in a hazy turn of the world. In the hallway, I pause. Before heading to the kitchen and facing her as a freshly woken jumble, I decide to make a quick detour to the bathroom, rinsing off in the shower and fishing out the spare toothbrush she keeps for me in her cabinet. As I brush, my mind begins to wander...
It has always been a bit of an inside joke within my family that I am two things: a heavy sleeper and a light eater. I am by far the most slender of my brothers, and the tallest. And as frequently as I stay up to all hours poring over the most complex of engineering problems or programming quandaries, I often find myself clocking out of consciousness at anyplace, anytime—bright lights, blaring sounds, it doesn't seem to matter—until I have satisfied some kind of internal allotment for rest. April, knowing me, knows this. But some part of me can't help but feel aflutter that she has left me behind.
All fears are allayed when I step out into the dining area to see a spread fit for the Queen of England awaiting me—bacon and eggs, toast, and a plethora of spreads to lacquer the latter. Much more than my usual breakfast fare, which consists primarily of a hot cup of coffee. With a grin that powers up every cell inside my body, she comes to me, tossing her arms about my neck. I cling to her bathrobe. She smells showered and fresh, and just all around lovely.
"Morning, Sunshine." she says.
She presses her lips against mine, and I soak every ounce of affection she has to give. I return her greeting with the most unashamedly goofy of grins, my arms sliding to rest on her the small of her back, before finally gaining the wherewithal to answer:
"Last night… April, wow, last night was... "
"Yeah." she finishes with the secretive smile I have come to love.
My eyes drift to the faint red marks I have left on her shoulder. She catches my gaze with a shrug.
"Oh that. You're paying for that later."
"I hope so." I tell her, and am rewarded with bout of laughter. I kiss the evidence, whispering, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
There is something dark and wanting in her reply. Later cannot come soon enough. In the meantime I try to have a clean string of thought, shifting my attention to the feast set out on the dining table.
"You've been busy. I would have been happy to help."
"I couldn't wake you even if I had a detonator and C4 handy." she tells me, not untruthfully, "Besides, you looked very cute."
I scoff.
"I don't think I've ever been accused of that before."
"Then I'll have to make up for lost time," she murmurs before kissing me again. She releases me with a shove. "Now, Eat!"
"Believe me, I'd eat you if you got in the way...how did you know?"
April tilts her head: "Call it a hunch."
She grabs my hand and forcibly sits me down, and I am in no position to protest. In fact, I welcome it. As I grab a few slices of toast from the pile, I can hear her behind me pouring coffee from the carafe. Returning, she rubs my neck before placing it down beside me.
"Your boot-up juice, m'lord?"
This term is a favorite of Mikey's, who often likens my morning coffee ritual to booting up a computer. It was hilarious the first dozen times. April likes to poke me with it, now and again, after a particularly deep bout of shut-eye.
"Thank you, Miss O'Neil."
I clasp her hand as she begins to walk away, kissing her knuckles like some kind of groveling subject. She gives a giggle and playfully slaps me away. Coffee now in hand, I sip, marveling at how quickly I have gotten used to our intimacy. I can't explain it, but nothing has felt more right in my life than her and I together.
Breakfast is devoured in a heartbeat. Having something salty and fatty in my stomach gives me a new sense of satisfaction, and the morning passes by in what seems like only seconds as we pick at the long since cold remains—talking and laughing, debating and forgiving—the whole while unable to keep our hands off each other... until finally the topic of my family comes up.
"Raph." she says with an air of somberness. "You think he's going to say something to the others?"
I consider the question only a moment.
"He's more likely to keep it up his sleeve like some kind of ammunition." I tell her, having no doubt that this will be the case "Little does he know, I am going to beat him to the punch."
"Really?"
I nod, "If you don't mind?"
She shakes her head with a grin.
"I mean, April. We practically live in each other's pockets as it is. Maybe it shouldn't be such a shock that we, um...uh..."
"Hooked up?" she asks with feigned innocence.
"Well..."
"Got it on?"
"I was going to say-"
"Discovery channeled the hell out of each other?"
My mind goes blank. The way she is looking at me, teasing me, baiting me, has triggered something ferocious in my body. Before I know it, I have scooped her up heap of white terrycloth and limbs.
"Maybe we should go over the details in bed?"
"It's too bad you've already cleaned up." she muses before brushing something invisible off my shoulder, "Although the way you're looking at me is absolutely filthy. I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist we hit the showers."
"Showers?" I reiterate, a little at a loss.
"You're a smart guy, Donnie. You'll figure it out when we get there."
Taking heed, I carry her into the bathroom and over the lip of the tub, snagging and subsequently derailing several of the shower curtain rings as I do. I try to refasten them, but my bulky hands make the task needlessly difficult. Embarrassment chips away at me. How is it I can build complex machinery from salvaged materials but I can't figure out how to hook a plastic loop onto a metal rod? I blow out my breath in a steady stream of exasperation; she, on the other hand, simply smiles. Taking it all in stride—my inelegance included—she unties her robe, lobs the sash around my neck, and pulls me close.
"It can wait." she says, "And I don't want to…"
She presses her lips to mine. I slip my hands beneath her robe and slide it from her body. Tossing it aside, I lift her off of her feet, pin her against the wall, and explore her with my hands and mouth. Her breaths grow ragged and her eyes flutter shut. With her free hand, she reaches down and turns on the shower; hot water rains down upon us and steam rises from below, swaying and twirling as if alive. Wrapped in a chrysalis of heat and holding the woman I love, the urge to take her here and now is all-consuming. But as I make a move to do just that, she stops me.
"L-let's not forget why we're in here…" she produces a bottle of lavender body wash and a loofah. Then, with a giggle, she adds: "Actually, this was just an excuse for me to get my hands on you again."
"Like you need an excuse…"
At that, she squeezes a generous amount of body wash onto the loofah. "Well… true, but… there's no harm in having one at the ready, is there?"
When one lives with three brothers, time in the bathroom in general and the shower specifically, is at a premium. Bathing becomes in exercise in speed and efficiency; a quick rinse of the blood, grime, and muck and maybe—if you're lucky—a minute or so to let the hot water soothe and loosen achy muscles. So maybe that's why the concept of a "relaxing" shower or bath was foreign to me. But as she runs the loofah up and down my body, it's safe to say that I'm a convert. Despite knowing that my skin is thicker and tougher than a human's, she's exceedingly gentle pouring over every inch of me, covering me in foamy lather. It feels like love. To be touched so tenderly, to be yearned for so completely, to be entirely in the moment with her makes everything seem eternal.
I wrap my arms around her and hold her, rocking slightly to and fro. Reaching down, I subtly slide the loofah from her grasp. "You're so beautiful, April. What did I ever do to deserve you?"
"Everything..." she replies, peering up at me through a veil of steam. "And that's just what I'll do to keep you with me…"
I sweep my hand across the wall, blindly looking for the bottle of body wash; she, ever perceptive, takes the bottle from the edge of the tub and hands it to me. I pour some of it over her shoulders and breasts and in soft circular motions, massage her with the loofah, skimming across her body with my fingers.
Some things are better the second time around. While last night is and shall ever be burned into my memory, I was too nervous—too worried I'd repulse or disappoint her—to truly appreciate how stunning she is. Now things are different. She has given herself to me and I to her and through the experience, our bond has grown stronger. This time, though my emotions still stir, fear is not among them.
I move down her body deliberately, savoring every detail no matter how minute: the milky tone of her skin, the firmness of her calves, the daintiness of her feet. I pay every part of her dutiful attention. Kneeling, I take in the sight of her smiling down upon me. She runs her fingers through her hair, combing damp strands from her eyes and neck. Brushing my cheek, she turns away from me. I stand, close the space between us, and kiss her neck as my hands linger on her hips. She sighs blissfully and throws her head to the side, inviting me in. I suck and nibble, and shift my hands inward ever so slightly until my fingers find her clit and dance across it. Her knees buckle and her body lurches forward; reflexively, she braces herself against the wall with both hands. I persist until her moans of delight drown out the sound of the rushing water.
Without missing a beat, I clasp my hands over hers and enter her from behind. I thrust slowly and deeply, my lips and tongue playing upon the nape of her neck all the while. Her cries of pleasure mingle with my grunts and the hissing of the water. And though our first time together will always hold a special place, all is amplified now. My heart has been liberated, my misgivings laid to rest, and my dreams fulfilled. And as I expend myself inside of her and we wilt in each other's arms, our future together—something that once existed only in my wildest reveries—seems a welcome certainty in an uncertain world.
...
We are sprawled on the bed like a couple of withered trees keeled over by scandal. She lifts a branch and drops a small sweet onto my tongue from the tips of her shoots. God, I adore her, my beautiful evergreen, laying bare in a tangle of sheets as the soft whir of the city thrums around us. Wisely, I decide to keep that thought in the vault... I'm not sure if she'd appreciate being called a tree. Even as a compliment. Although, what can I say? Green looks good on her.
"Well, my darling?"
Her voice is as sweet as nectar. Stop it. Stop with the trees.
"Banana." I say, placing the flavor of the velvety sludge that oozes from within the chocolate casing.
"Really? What did it look like?"
"Some kind of Art deco molded on top of it."
"Hm. Very specific… you observant geek. Good?"
"Best one so far."
She frowns and flips the box around.
"Oh darn, there doesn't seem to be any more of those left. What. Are. The. Chances?"
I can hear it. The complete and utter lie.
"Would you mind if did a little fact-checking on that particular observation?" I say, reaching for the packet.
She shakes her head and pulls it out of my range with a laugh.
"No! No more banana for you! They're mine!"
"I'll give you banana, Miss O'Neil..."
She gives a dark titter, and I squeeze her thigh for good measure. April, shady as the night itself, passes off the sliver of cheekiness with a grin. She reaches inside the pack and takes one. As she chews I roll close and press my mouth against hers. Laughing, she pushes me off—but not before I've tasted her.
"Strawberry." I tell her with a smack of my lips.
"That was meant to be strawberry?"
"Unless that's just you."
Her eyes crease into a smile as she swallows.
"You're right. It was me. I'm as delicious as a sun kissed strawberry on a dewy meadow."
"You are much tastier than that." I murmur.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah?"
"C'mere and let me check again..."
We have been playing this game for over half an hour. Spent into exhaustion from our love making, we are taking stock of ourselves, replenishing our bodies as we eat baubles of mystery chocolate from her secret stash. This non-descript box, she's told me, is a Christmas gift from a work client. The chocolate itself was sporting a peculiar white coating, on the verge of going stale, but we couldn't care less. Sugar calls to us like flies. It's a small thing, but I can't recall a time I've had more fun doing... nothing. I collapse back onto my pillow with the happiest of sighs.
April peers over at me.
"This is nice. God knows how I love picking apart your flawless programming looking for non-existent redundancies, but this is so relaxing."
I try to suppress a chuckle—she has my mask wound across her upper arm, reminiscent of some kind of Amazonian warrior. In a way we have emerged from several battles today, very much victorious.
"It is."
"We always seem to have fun together," she continues, "whether we're tearing something apart… or each other."
"I've always loved tearing things apart. Or each other." I agree sagely.
"Hmm. Just think of all the things we'd normally be doing right now. I was going to clean out my fridge today."
"Funny. I was going to reseal the fridge back at the lair. I think I know what I'd rather be doing."
"Dare I ask?"
I smirk and raise a single brow ridge in reply. April laughs as she pries the box of candy open.
"Here. Last one."
She hand-feeds me, quickly sneaking it in so I can't see its shape.
I nod as I chew.
Banana. It is every reason I love her.
"So what were you going to say before?" she asks.
Drifting in the haze of joy she has created around me, I barely make out her question.
"Hm?"
"Earlier you were saying it shouldn't be a shock to your family? You and me?"
Staring up at the ceiling, I slide my hand by my side until I have captured hers.
"What I was going to say, before our wonderful detour, was...maybe they shouldn't be so surprised that we love each other."
She is quiet a moment, and I feel her squeeze back. Alarmed by her silence I glance over at her. Tears are swarming her eyes.
"Donnie."
Just one word. Just my name. I can hear a lifetime of regret in it. Her hair falls by the sides of my face as she rises to kiss me. I am in truly in her sanctum.
"Oh, Donnie... I should have done this a long time ago..."
"I'll take anything you give." I say in a choked voice. If it sounded pathetic or weak, I didn't care. If part of love was about exposing your vulnerabilities to someone you trusted, I could think of no better soul to open up to, "You know that, right?"
"Everything." she says again. Her eyes glimmer with joy and sadness, hope and regret. "I will give you everything."
Her head drops to my chest and her arms wrap around my body, dangling from the edges of my shell. Though my plastron is thick, I can feel her warm breaths upon it. We remain like this a while. I never want to get used to her basking on my body in content. But time is a strange beast. I cannot recall a day that has passed by quicker in my life. The shadows in the room grow longer as the daylight migrates to the other side of the world. If only I could hold onto it forever.
"You need to go, don't you?" she says eventually.
I've avoided looking at the time. It would only make me complicit in being late.
"I don't want to… " I couldn't think of anything I want to do less than be away from her, "I've already thought of several ways I can go about all my daily activities from this very spot. I can mock up the drafts later if you want to peek."
"Hm." she chuckles, "Make sure it's for two."
Her arms grip tighter around me. Out of all the things we've said and done, the next thing is making me unusually nervous. Probably because part of me thinks she'll brush me off, and our whole night will be nothing but a hiccup in her mind she wants to forget. Even though everything points to the contrary, it is a fear I cannot yet shake.
"Come with me."
"Isn't Leo dragging you all out for training tonight?"
"You can wait at the Lair. We'll be back by midnight, I guarantee it. The others will be too pumped to sleep, so they'll probably embark some kind of movie or gaming marathon. We can excuse ourselves to the lab... or join them, I don't mind."
April and I have pulled all-nighters so often it would not look in the slightest bit odd for her to do the same again. There's even a makeshift cot we have set-up for her in a spare section of the Lair...although more often than not she either crashes on the sofa or we rotate use of my bed.
April laces her fingers together and props her chin upon it, casting me a conceding grin.
"I do have that app I've been wanting to work on loaded on your computer."
"Great!"
"Alright. One condition. We behave ourselves over there... I want to keep you all to myself a little longer. Well, you, me, and Raph."
I've spent the last many years behaving myself. This should be a breeze.
"Consider it done."