Author's note:
I seriously love reading all of your reactions (chelsbaby: best assessment ever; hereforthe: you read this to your husband? that is truelovenoboundaries, girl), thank you very much.
This whole story is M, but this next chapter is a little descriptive, if you know what I mean, so you've been warned.
She couldn't remember the last time she had gotten a good night's sleep.
She blamed the constant jetlag, her circadian rhythm messed up to a point where she didn't even try to force herself to sleep at the proper time anymore, instead accepting the constant ache of exhaustion without the relief. Rest seemed elusive and she often found herself staring up at the ceiling, her mind and body both exhausted but somehow unable to let go, relax and drift off. Then again, when she was back home she was seldom alone to stare at her ceiling by herself.
They had been meeting up often even before, but since the night that she'd opened up to him, it seemed like they spent every free moment together.
There was a strange pull between them, their admissions to each other somehow binding them with invisible, but sturdy little ties, crisscrossing between their battered and restless souls.
She spoke no more of it and he didn't prompt her, as if the basics have been absorbed and the details inconsequential.
She was thankful to say the least. She had after all had unnerving experiences related to this. People wanted sharing. Heart to hearts. Emotional disentanglement and resolution, catharsis, revelations tied into neat little packages. She'd lost more than one person when she couldn't give them that. Paris, Lane, Jess even. They all thought they'd break through, after the right amount of time and effort. But truth was she wanted no resolution, no break through, no getting over it. And no reminders. So she was happy to leave them behind, constant traveling, changing phone numbers and addresses aiding her in the process.
She also was weary about meeting new people for the same reason. Striking up relationships was easy enough, but there came a time to share and explain and it would lead to pity and worry and essentially the same process that had even lead her to sacrifice relationships that were decades old, not to mention those that had just started.
She just equated talking and opening up to asking for it, risking unleashing her own turmoil upon herself without any resolution, any relief in return.
But it was different with him. Perhaps because he had his own barrage of memories carefully restrained and locked away, with no further need to dissect and redeem, the experience of simple sharing bound them in a deep and quiet understanding that she had never experienced before.
It was discussed and abandoned, leaving her at peace. She found it easy to lock everything back into wherever she had buried it before. There was no bitter aftertaste really, and no aversion towards him.
Perhaps it was because of this that the pull towards him did not waver, if anything it intensified. It was almost impossible to stay away and neither of them seemed to try, reveling in the place of suddenly found comfort that the mutual sharing of their respective unresolved traumas seemed to have brought. There was no need to explain further but nothing to tiptoe around either, instead they could just give into the pull, electric, intense and constant.
She cancelled several trips, making it seem like she was long due for a break and needing to finish up a number of projects that piled up from her insane schedule in the last year, but if she was being honest, it felt nice to be home for the first time in a long time. She spent her days writing, going out for walks, even experimenting with cooking, although with limited success.
He spent his days away, sometimes showing up early afternoon, other times late at night. He didn't seem to follow any particular office hours, sometimes staying in bed with her until noon, but sometimes disappearing suddenly after his mysterious pager went off.
The pager set off a predictable series of events. He'd use her landline to call some number, only saying a few brief words of confirmation and giving out her address as his only response. A car would show up in a couple of minutes and he'd kiss her goodbye without much explanation. Sometimes he'd be back a couple of hours later, but there were times when she didn't see him for several days.
The pager was an unyielding power in his life, she realized, and no matter what they were doing, how intimate he was with her when it went off, he answered the call instantly, sometimes curbing his own needs, although never hers, finishing her off with enviable speed, self control and concentration if needed, after hanging up the phone, but before getting dressed to meet the car out front.
If she looked irked by these instances, he didn't take note of it, kissing her unapologetically and only whispering a quiet "I'm sorry".
She could have felt annoyed by these occurrences, but somehow she didn't, his quiet professionalism somehow a bigger turn on than any nuisance of an interrupted date.
She noticed things about his work, signs. She never saw him watching the news or reading the paper, but he was knowledgeable not just about current affairs but obscure references too. It was like he was a walking encyclopedia. He advised her on traveling, pointing out alternative routes or drawing her attention to weather patterns she'd disregarded; reminded her of advisories and pointed out the need for visas. He was not ever surprised by events that happened, that took place, as though he were informed about everything in advance or half expecting them.
It was hard to plan with him. Spontaneous activities were okay, but sometimes cut short and if she had tickets for something, more often than not she ended up asking Jimmy, her photographer, to join her last minute. He always let her know he wouldn't make it and she figured he'd be unreachable for a while.
She was almost used to these occurrences and the way it made their life unpredictable. The rest of their connection seemed to be counteracting this particular characteristic, the relationship slowly growing into a surprisingly steady part of her life.
He'd been spending most nights over and their attraction didn't seem to tame. If anything, getting passed those invisible walls liberated them, his need suddenly untamed and hers fueled by his zest. She wondered when he slept at all, what with his unpredictable work schedule and his insatiable need when they were together. It was hard to resist him, whether he was solemn and quiet or playful and bantering. He was always ready for her and always eager. His body was full of life, turning her on all the time, and the way he made love drove her wild with want.
That was a definite change in his demeanor that she'd noted, from the restrained and pent up nature of their first coupling to something wild and uninhibited. He engaged in sex with a fervor that swept her away and cleared her mind of all else. Instead of silent and serious, he was vocal and liberated and she welcomed the change and mirrored it, as though the act was healing for them both, therapeutic in an inexplicable way.
He spoke to her constantly when they were intimate, his words increasingly filthy and surprisingly invigorating, and she never remembered having liked dirty talk much before, but when he talked, she seemed to feel no embarrassment, no shame, drinking up the words as though she were mesmerized. He was repetitive, and engaging, sometimes asking her to repeat his words. At first it made her blush, her words coming out in a timid whisper, but he encouraged her, praised her and egged her on, perhaps noting the way it escalated her pleasure, not letting her stop until she was urged to scream in his ear, begging him to fuck her until she couldn't walk.
It was always exciting, electrifying, mindblowing with him.
He'd fucked her against the wall, bent over the couch, sitting up on her kitchen counter and in her shower, from behind, marking her with his release as the water fell down over them and she gasped for breath in the humid heat. He worshiped her regularly, his tongue precise, focused, amazingly skillful, her clit rock hard in his mouth as he sucked it to orgasm. He was thorough and enthusiastic, seemingly infatuated with the taste of her, with the feel of her against his face, moaning into her center as he worked on her diligently, her fingers twisting into his hair as she urged him with a series of breathless gasps.
She loved to take him into her mouth, his smooth, hard length inviting, his deep gasps and moans encouraging her. He was never forceful, but his hands in her hair were a firm guidance for her as she concentrated on his reactions, sucking him off, taking an incredible amount of pleasure in having him at her mercy.
She'd been more adventurous than she ever remembered being, uninhibited, unrestrained and liberated, engaging in new positions that surprised even him, his stunned and filthy comments egging her on.
She loved when he called her Mary, remembering his infatuation with her from so long ago and she begged him to tell him his fantasies from school.
He did, whispering in her ear about how he wanted her on her knees in the janitor's closet, about how he wanted to fuck her until she couldn't walk, up against the benches in the courtyard, on the prop table while they were acting out that scene with everyone watching. He told her how he fantasized about her, on her knees and covered in his cum, her pretty pink lips sucking on his glistening cock.
They were ridiculous childhood fantasies and she'd laugh hysterically, until she'd feel him rock hard against her back, his teeth skimming the side of her neck from behind.
He did things that she never thought she'd enjoy, his ability to turn her on seemingly without a limit. He held her down with a skillful hand, restraining her efficiently as he fucked her on the bed from behind, her one leg pulled up to her side, as her face was pushed into a pillow and his hips pistoned into her. He pulled her hair, gently, but firmly, making her moan out loud and arching her body into a tightly wound, whimpering column. He had her waiting on all fours as his tongue probed all her entryways. He had her feel him against her asshole as he made her come over and over again with his finger, leaving her in a state of raw exposure, her mind reeling as she felt him push forward excruciatingly slowly.
He chased her release relentlessly. She came hard every time, dissolving into a pulsing, whimpering mess as he still towered over her panting. She knew his routine, his body heaving for a minute as he stilled himself, slowly regaining purchase before moving to check to see if she was okay, his hand skimming over her figure as if to take stock of any damage before he collapsed next to her exhausted.
She was obsessed with studying his climax, although rarely was she in charge of all her faculties when the moment occurred. He usually came with the softest of sighs and a stifled groan, his face smoothing momentarily as his orgasm raked his body, lasting long seconds, his release erupting from him in overwhelming, robust spurts, making her gasp wherever she felt it. Sometimes he was especially vocal, calling her name out with an arousing growl, followed by several moans as his body shook, his hands tangled in her hair and he seemed the most genuine, most unguarded these times, giving her a thrill that made her instantly long for the next time she could witness his abandon.
The more she had him, the more she craved him, loving the way his body responded to hers.
"How are you so good at this?" she asked, not for the first time as she laid in his arms, spent.
The afternoon light flooded her room with a warm glow as they laid on her bed.
She felt him chuckle beneath her, his response slightly slow.
"What do you mean?" he asked, the deep timber of his voice making her shiver.
"Where you this good back in high school?" she asked, her tone playful.
He laughed even harder.
"I doubt it" he said, his voice back to his deep calm.
She felt incredibly light, something she seldom did, despite the comfort their familiarity had started to bring.
"So then how? They give you much action in the army?" she asked, turning around to glance at his face, happy to be able to banter with him.
"You'd be surprised" he smirked, sighing as he relaxed into the bed laying under her as they stared at the ceiling together, his arm caressing her side.
"Would I?" she teased.
"I mean there's always ways to have a night off the base. And you know what girls get like when they see a uniform" he murmured, his voice mischievous, something she only remembered being back when they were innocent teenagers.
"What do they get like?" she asked, her voice laced with a curious tingle.
"Horny" he chuckled, the simple word passing a warm current through her body as he whispered it into her ear.
"So it was townies and groupies?" she asked, listening to him as she continued to stare up at the ceiling.
There was a thoughtful silence from him and she waited patiently.
"Why do you like to ask about this?" he replied with a question and she wondered if he was uncomfortable.
"Do I like to ask about this?" she retorted, her voice a warm tingle.
"Yeah. I feel like it riles you up" he replied, his voice sounding warm.
"Riles me up?" she furrowed her brows.
"Turns you on" he clarified and she felt her heartbeat pick up as he gently repositioned her, making room for their altered configuration.
"Hmm. Possibly" she hummed and felt a snort from him.
"Why?" he breathed.
"Why does imagining you fucking random people turn me on?" she asked, making her voice innocent even as she gently arched her back, putting pressure on where he was already reacting to her and tuning her senses to his expected groan of arousal. "I don't know" she shrugged, biting her lower lip to keep from smiling as she felt him grow fully aroused under her.
"What was the question again?" he murmured, inhaling the scent of her hair as his fingers dug into her hips.
"How did you get your fill? Townies and groupies?" she repeated herself.
"Yeah" he sighed, taking his next breath from her hair. "I guess. Or daughters living close to bases" he replied, his hand moving to caress the skin on her stomach.
"Ooh, did you have a torrid love affair with a general's daughter?" she asked excitedly.
He chuckled.
"I think by that time I was focused more on trying to train to be able to stay alive. I think my peak years were in military school" he replied, slightly shaking his head.
"Hmm, so it's a mystery then" she wondered out loud.
"What is?" he asked, amused.
"How you get me off so quickly" she replied, her voice dropping.
He laughed out, wholeheartedly.
"I mean, it might have something to do with you and your ability?" he replied, half asking.
"My ability?" she asked, turning in his arms to look at him.
"Yeah, you come in seconds, that's not... I'm not the one doing that. You're..." he sighed, looking at her with a stupid grin "I never thought you'd be so... responsive."
She felt her face warm and she turned back into her prior position, her eyes focused on the ceiling as she bit her lips.
"Well, I didn't think either. This... it's not normal for me" she said, her eyes tracing patterns on the ceiling, suddenly feeling self conscious for some reason.
"Yeah?" he asked, his voice laced with arousal.
"Yeah" she admitted, her face still warm.
"So when I do this...," he asked, his fingers dipping lower from where he was caressing her stomach, "and you sigh like that... that's unusual?" he asked, his fingers slipping lower, finding just where to touch her instantly. She hissed, feeling the sudden pressure there.
"I guess not everyone knows how to properly do 'this'" she whispered, breathy voice trembling.
He turned her head back towards him with his free hand to be able to reach her and he kissed her, slow and gentle, his tongue sweeping into her mouth.
She sighed as they pulled apart, once again resting her head against his chest.
"Did you miss it?" she asked, her tone still playful even as the mood shifted lightly, her fingers interlacing with his.
"Sex?" he asked, releasing a breath as though he instantly synced with her changing mood.
"Yeah" she nodded.
"It was the furthest thing from my mind to tell you the truth. I was focused for a long time and I guess it was a way to sometimes blow off steam, but… I stopped being addicted to it after leaving my teens" he shrugged gently beneath her. "Do you miss it when you don't have it?" he asked her, suddenly interested.
She closed her eyes shrugging slightly, mirroring his prior movements.
"I used to think it was sacred. I used to put too much emphasis on emotion. But then I realized, if done right, it doesn't have to be all that. It can just be what it is. Like you said... a distraction. It clears my mind" she shrugged.
"Ouch. And here I've been working so hard" he joked, with playful indignation.
"No, I don't mean with you. It's not the same with you. I meant with all the barrage of men you alluded to" she said, sighing.
There was silence again and she felt as though he had tensed under her even as his hands where back to caressing her skin. She wondered what he was more focused on, her referring to the promiscuous lifestyle he seemed to have been surprised by or her confession that she'd felt different about him.
"Does that help?" he asked quietly, his voice suddenly serious.
"Sleeping with men?" she asked, looking for clarification.
He didn't reply but nodded gently, focusing on her profile.
She swallowed, shaking her head to get a hold of herself.
"Momentarily" she said, her voice cracking slightly.
"Does this help?" he asked, his fingers tracing a path down her side, making her realize he did note her prior remark differentiating him from the ones before.
"I'm not sure what it does, it's hard to explain it" she whispered.
He hummed in agreement or understanding, she couldn't say.
His fingers trailed up her body and along her neck to reach her mouth and her lips opened involuntarily.
He dipped his two fingers in, her soft tongue meeting them.
He growled as her tongue wet his fingers. She could feel him twitching against her back.
"Your tongue..." he murmured, trailing off.
He took his fingers, now glistening with her saliva and moved them to her sex, touching her clit with precision, her slick saliva making it easy for him to massage her and she gasped, bucking in his hold.
She felt him adjust himself against her ass, his erection straining against her.
"Tell me what it is like for you" she whispered, her eyes closed as she concentrated on his movements.
"What?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"When you have me. Tell me what it was like to have sex again for the first time" she breathed, her heart beating wildly.
She felt him release a breath against the side of her neck.
"You want to know what it was like to have you for the first time?" he teased and she breathed a mumbling confirmation as his fingers distracted her.
"I don't think I've ever wanted anyone more in my life than you right then. When we kissed, against the wall, with your legs wrapped around me, and your cunt pressed up against my cock... I wanted to bury it inside you, I wanted to fuck you right there. I felt like I was gonna tear you apart" he sighed.
His voice was low as he whispered in her ear, his finger working in a practiced rhythm.
"You didn't" she hiccuped, remembering how he got her off, much like he was doing now.
"I wanted to see you cum first. I needed to see what you looked like before I lost my mind having you" he breathed into her ear, as he rocked his hips into her back.
"What was it like?" she asked, her voice a throaty moan.
"When you came from my hand? You're fucking beautiful when you come. Your eyes cloud over, your mouth opens, your nipples tighten, you pant these shallow breaths and then your whole fucking body tenses before you start shaking, and your cunt gets tight like I can't imagine. Do you know what it feels like to be inside you when you come? Do you know how it feels when you squeeze my cock like that?" he murmured, his words getting feverish as his fingers sped up.
"What did it feel like?" she panted, her fingers curling around his arms as she felt her body lifted and white hot pleasure wash all over her.
"It felt like I was alive again, all I could feel was my cock inside you and you warm and tight and amazing around me" he whispered as she came in his arms with a loud moan.
She felt him move from under her, even as she was convulsing in pleasure, then she heard the tear of the wrapper and his hiss as he readied himself.
She felt him enter her and she opened her eyes, seeing him aroused above her.
"You feel like that every time" he whispered as he thrust into her, making her moan again.
She stared out the window focusing on the pulsing red lights on the top of the skyscrapers as the curious fog dissipated the lights from the streets below. The city went on as far as the eye could see and the sight made her feel anxious and calm at the same time. She sat on the ledge of the sealed window, glancing down onto the phone in her hand, silently calculating the time back home. It was the middle of the day there, which would explain her inability to get any sleep at all.
She sighed as her fingers searched for his number from her call history. She took up a habit of leaving him short messages on his land line, telling him a short anecdote or brief description of what she was seeing on the old school answering machine of his without an outgoing message.
She heard the beep and laid back against the wall starting to talk as though they were in middle of an ongoing conversation.
"This town has an audible buzz. Or hum. At first I thought it was the AC in the hotel room, but it's coming from the outside" she said, speaking into her cell.
There was another beep on the line and static and his voice came on, surprising her.
"Are you the only one who hears it? Like spontaneous otoacustic emissions?" he asked, his voice calm.
She chuckled.
"You're home?" she asked, closing her eyes.
"Yeah" he replied. "Why aren't you asleep?"
"Jetlag" she explained.
"Some saké and the hum should help with that" he replied.
"The hum keeps me awake" she sighed.
"Earplugs" he replied matter of factly.
"Tried. Still hear it" she retorted.
"Hmm" he snorted amused. "That does sound like SOAE. But Tokyo is not a typical place they report it from."
She squeezed her eyes, an amused smile on her lips.
"Where do they usually report it from?" she asked, not even surprised anymore by the fact that he'd have such obscure knowledge.
"Bristol, Taos, Auckland" he listed.
"How do you…" she started to ask, shaking her head, but then a thought crossed her mind. "Is this connected to secret military base locations?"
"You're getting paranoid" he chuckled.
"You're making me paranoid" she retorted.
"Not every weird occurrence is because of the army" he sighed.
"I think you're trying to throw me off the trail here" she mock accused and chuckled as she heard him sigh again.
"When are you back?" he asked, and the restrained longing in his voice made her shiver.
"Thursday" she replied, smiling into the phone.
"Good" he said. "Try to get some sleep until then."
She'd been studying him quietly whenever she could. It was a difficult task, because he seemed to have some unnerving sense that made him notice her every time. He'd look at her questioning and she'd be forced to glance away embarrassed, or worse, admit she was blatantly staring.
They were out on one of their walks again, a joint pastime they both seemed to prefer, although she favored busy streets, while he was drawn to open spaces, parks and the river.
They were sitting on a bench, the early heatwave leaving the ground dry and dusty beneath their feet.
He caught her staring at his profile and he smirked barely noticeably.
"What?"
She blushed, having been caught and took a breath, letting the words tumble out of her mouth.
"Can I ask you a question?" she asked glancing at him again.
There was no response from him, his stare off into the distance undisturbed and she thought maybe he'd not heard her, nudging him gently.
"I'm thinking" he sighed with a quiet annoyance.
"About?" she asked, smiling as she felt his amusing frustration.
"Whether it's a good idea to let you ask questions" he murmured cynically.
"I'll settle for three" she bargained.
"Three?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Questions" she clarified.
"That's not how it…" he started to say, his mouth curling into a cynical smile.
"How did they pick you out for Delta?" she asked, her voice strong and rushed, cutting him off effectively.
He sighed, turning back to stare ahead at the lush green treetops of the park.
"You need a nomination for it, don't you? But what made them notice you?" she went on, seeing his reluctance.
"Is this all your three questions?" he asked, without turning back to her.
"You haven't even answered one" she rolled her eyes.
There was a moment of silence and she wondered if she'd have to retort to unethical ways of persuasion even though she knew if he didn't want to talk, although he would not protest, none of her otherwise obviously effective seduction techniques stood a chance.
"You have to have a certain mindset for it" he said quietly, his gaze dropping to the loose dirt beneath their feet.
"A mindset?" she asked, repeating the word to prompt him further.
"It helps if you don't have a lot of ties. A lot of things weighing you down. It helps if you're not always waiting for time to pass, waiting to finish something. You need patience for Delta. You need to be able to think, even when most people resort to instinct" he said, his words plentiful without saying much, she noted.
"Why isn't instinct good?" she asked about the most perplexing of the expressions.
"Everybody is guided by instinct. So it's predictable" he replied, glancing at her.
"Is that bad?" she asked.
He pondered for a moment, as if to best explain himself, then looked down again, drawing a line in the dirt with his shoe and then another squiggly one horizontally. He went on, drawing points across from the first line. She furrowed her brows trying to decipher the meaning of the strange blueprint.
"This is a city wall," he pointed to the original line running from their feet vertically, "this is the river, escape essentially," he continued, pointing to the squiggly line, "these are unfriendlies, armed" he gestured to the collection of dots inside the city walls, blocking the route towards the river.
"What do you do?" he asked, his face turning to her.
She looked up at him, then down at the drawing, thinking for a minute.
"Go along the wall, you are protected from one side, try to fight your way through?"
He nodded, looking down at the drawing in the dirt.
"That's instinct. You want to choose a protected setup. But it will get you trapped" he said, adding dots to the original drawing, slowly surrounding an invisible spot against the line representing the wall.
She looked up at him, a shiver passing through her.
"So?"
"If you act against instinct, go straight into the crowd… you aren't protected, but you aren't easily trapped. If they surround you, if they want to shoot you, they have to do it, against themselves, endangering their own. You have enemies everywhere, so you can shoot in any direction. In the end you'll have to fight through, but you have a bigger chance" he said as he drew a line from one side of the drawing towards the squiggly line representing the river.
He smoothed the dirt with his shoes, erasing the drawing and stood slowly, turning back to reach a hand out.
"Come on. I'm hungry."
"You haven't answered most of my questions, don't I get another two?" she protested.
"I did answer them" he said, his face calm as he looked back at her. She frowned in confusion.
"That's how I got noticed. I got a crew out of a situation like that" he said.
She looked at him, her shiver returning, this time penetrating under her skin, cooling the blood racing under the surface.
He reached for her hand, pulling her off the bench and she followed, concentrating on the heat radiating through his palm.