A/N - Aiming for frequent updates again. Thank you to everyone who's still reading!
The Threat
Present Day
"Am I supposed to like having him in the house?"
She lowers her voice, casting an anxious glance at their closed bedroom door. "No, of course not, Sam, but-"
He shakes his head, a sarcastic smile flashing white. "You always want to have your cake and eat it too."
"What?"
"You got what you asked for, Addison. You still want me to roll out the welcome mat when he comes down here? Forget it."
"Okay." She pulls out her drawer, heart pounding, rifles through her night clothes looking for something that might soothe him.
"Or have you already forgotten what he-"
She cuts him off, not sure she can bear for it to continue. "Sam, please."
"Addison." He changes his tone, cajoling instead of mocking, and puts his arms around her. "It's okay." She slumps into the solid wall of his chest and lets him hold her, one big hand drawing soothing circles on her back.
"I don't want you to be mad at me," she admits, her voice smaller than she'd like. He kisses the side of her head.
"Hasn't anyone told you that you can't have everything you want?"
She doesn't answer.
"Here's here for Piper, Addison, isn't that what you say?"
At his sharp tone she pulls back. "Yes, of course."
"Then maybe you should let him be with her and focus on us instead."
She sighs, watching him strip to boxer briefs, his movements swift and deliberate. He lowers himself onto the bed, giving her a tantalizing look at the muscles of his chest and she wants nothing more than for the night to be over. Finally selecting a pair of silk shorts she knows he likes and pulling a loose tank top over her head, she flicks the wall switch and casts the room into darkness.
"You know he's not a threat." Addison ducks into bed, lowers her head against his neck, eager to give and get distraction in return. "Sam..."
He rolls away from her.
"Sam, come on." She puts a tentative arm around him, his skin warm under hers. "I don't want to fight, can we just-"
He turns over swiftly then, tangles one hand in her hair and slips the other inside the waistband of her shorts.
"Sam, wait." She pushes at his hand. "Stop. Can we talk about this?"
"Nothing to talk about." His fingers twist and she gasps, pulling away and grabbing at his wrist.
"Sam..."
"You say he's not a threat, fine. He's not a threat."
"Right, but then why-"
"What, Addison?" His hand is halfway outside her shorts now, her fingers gripping but not quite meeting the circumference of his wrist. His gaze is intense in the low light. "What?"
"Nothing." She unfolds her fingers from his wrist. His hand disappears again, skimming under the waistband of her loose silk shorts. His fingers are hot enough to burn her skin.
She lies very still, eyes on the door. They're careful. They're always careful.
"You're quiet." He kisses her neck, uses his teeth a little more than she likes and she flinches. "What is it, Addison?"
"Nothing, it's fine."
"It's not fine." He withdraws his hand again. "It's him."
"No." She starts to sit up and his hand on her thigh stops her.
"Yes. It is him."
"Sam..."
"What is it, Addison, you think he's going to hear?"
"No, I - what if Piper-"
"If Piper needs something, he can deal with it. Isn't that why he's here?"
"Yes, but-"
"Yes but what?"
"Nothing." She says the word again, and again, until it loses its meaning: "Nothing, nothing, nothing."
"Good." He moves his hand up her thigh, cupping her firmly before yanking the loose silk shorts to her knees. She presses her fingers to her lips to muffle the sounds she can't keep inside but he seizes her wrist and drags it away from her face. With her hands pinned at her sides to the sheets and his mouth gliding across her thigh she can't stop herself. She moans, then presses her lips together as firmly as she can. His tongue probes her and she gasps, struggling to stay silent, muscles vibrating with tension.
There's a moment of sweet relief when the pressure of his mouth disappears and then he pushes into her before she's quite ready. She grabs at his shoulders, willing her body to calm. "Relax," he mutters into her hair. "Addison, relax."
She tries.
"Sam, it - slow down," she pants as he moves over her and he ignores her, his pace quickening until she can't be quiet any longer. She turns her head to the side, back and forth frantically. There'll be a snarl at the back of her hair when this is over.
When this is over.
"Sam!"
She tugs at her pinioned arms and he pulls them further up, over her head, flattens her arms with his. His pace shows no sign of slowing and she wraps her legs around his, trying to get some control of their rhythm. He suctions onto her neck again and she winces. There will be marks tomorrow. It will be no accident.
He thrusts both her wrists into one fist then, presses the other hand to the barely-there space between their slick bodies. She's slippery and feels like she's falling, he's determined and feels like he's not letting go. His fingers bump and slide over sensitive ridges and he swallows her protests with a kiss that goes on and on. His tongue is keeping her from screaming. He pulls away and leaves a damp trail down her neck.
She's frozen, silent, and he prods her, bumping his nose against hers, muttering into her mouth, his fingers flying faster, pushing harder. She stops watching the door, screws her eyes shut tightly.
"Let go, Addison." He whispers it wetly into her neck this time and she turns her head away, only to find his mouth at her other ear. "Come on. Let go, baby. I want to hear you. Stop holding it in."
She's tense, hips over-flexed and arms overstretched and she can't find her voice; inside her head she's calling his name as harshly as she can, not even sure what she's asking for now: More. Softer. Harder. Less. Stop. Keep going. Sam.
"God!"
There it is. Her voice.
They jump apart as the door swings wide open, Addison yanking the sheet over her breasts, Sam clapping a pillow to his lap.
"Sorry to interrupt."
Mark, bare chested and smirking, shorts riding low on his hips. "Where did you say the towels were?"
Addison turns away from Sam's muttering beside her. "Hall closet. Second from the left. Middle shelf."
"But you knew that already." Sam's voice, angry silk. "Didn't you."
"Good night, guys," Mark says smoothly, half-turning. "Piper's down the hall, you know, so you might want to keep it down."
Addison grabs for Sam as he makes a move to get up. "Shut the door, Mark!"
He does so, but she swears he winks at her first. Goddamn it.
"Sam..."
But it's too late, he's already turned his back to her again, his rigid shoulders the only answer she needs. She slides under the covers, rooting as discreetly as she can in the crumpled sheets for her discarded shirt. Locating it at last, she drags it over her head with trembling hands. Finally she draws her knees to her chest, an acrobatic fetal position, and pulls on her shorts. Covered at last, she feels oddly naked.
She lies on her back, still feeling the sting of him within her, and listens to the sounds of Mark getting ready for bed in the guest bathroom. He splashes with what sounds like extra vigor, turning the taps on and off, audibly shaking out his towel.
She wakes up alone, sunlight streaming across the white covers. There's a sulky dent in the mattress announcing Sam's exit, steam escaping under the door of the en-suite. She shrugs into a silk robe and heads for the stairs, pausing outside Piper's open door.
Her daughter is standing half in and half out of her closet in a posture that's adult enough to make her smile. "How are you doing, sweetie?"
"I'm getting dressed," Piper turns around, still in pink-striped pajamas. "Daddy is making me eggs."
"Do you need help?"
"I can do it," Piper asserts brightly, one of her favorite phrases, little hands tugging at a hanger.
Addison blows her a kiss and heads for the kitchen. Sure enough, Mark is moving around her kitchen like he owns it, sunlight dappling his shoulders.
"Good morning," his tone is irritatingly cheerful. "Coffee?"
She takes the mug from him without a word.
"Just the way you like it. Hot and strong."
She ignores him.
"Nothing like coffee and a sea view to - hey," he interrupts himself to whistle, nudges the red marks at her neck and she bats his hands away.
"Cut it out, Mark."
"What are you, sixteen?"
"Shut up."
"Is that how you two usually carry on with Piper-"
She turns on him furiously, coffee sloshing over the top of the mug. "Don't you dare question my parenting."
He raises his both hands. "Relax, that's not what I meant." He passes her a clean dishtowel. "You got coffee on your ... thing."
The word relax makes her muscles twitch and she forces out a breath, dabbing hard at the stain on her robe. "Can you just - don't you have plans with Piper today?"
He frowns. "I'm taking her to school, and then to the beach. Why, do you want to-"
"Mommy, I can't find my other shoe!" Piper explodes into the kitchen, uncombed hair trailing behind her. Addison drops to her haunches, grateful for the distraction. "Which shoe, baby?"
She wrinkles her nose. "The red one."
"Which red one?" Addison prods and she doesn't have to look up to see Mark's smirk. "Try under your bed, Pipes. Or by the couch in the TV room."
"Her mother's daughter," he comments lightly when Piper scampers out again.
Addison retrieves her cup of coffee and takes a grateful gulp. "At least when it comes to shoes."
"Not just shoes." Mark's voice is surprisingly soft. "Other things too."
She grips the mug, suddenly uncomfortable. "Mark..."
"Good morning."
Addison jumps slightly as Sam pads into the kitchen. Funny, really, how different the same two words can sound. "Looks busy in here," he observes.
"Breakfast," Addison offers weakly. She kisses Sam, mindful of Mark's eyes on them, of Sam's hands firm at the base of her hips.
At the loud clank of a bowl on the counter Addison turns around, still in Sam's arms. Mark has the cabinets thrown open, the makings of an omelet scattered around him. With his back to them, he cracks eggs, plucks a whisk from the the ceramic jar of kitchen implements. Sam's hands drift lower, Addison's back against his chest, and she pulls away just slightly. His breath is warm against her neck and his lips graze her ear when he speaks.
"How long are you staying with us this time...Mark?"
Mark doesn't turn around, the whisk rattling in the glass mixing bowl. "Don't you still live next door?"
"I still own the house next door."
"Sam!" Piper's back, bouncing on her tiptoes in front of him. "Daddy's making breakfast!"
"Yes, I see that." Sam frees a hand to pat the top of her head distractedly. Addison takes advantage of the position to wriggle out of his embrace.
"Did you find your shoe, sweetie?"
"I found this other red shoe that I think is good." She pauses, an impossibly small red sneaker dangling from her fist. "But I can't find the other one to that one."
"How about if you wear-"
"I want these ones," she insists.
"Okay. Let's think - actually," she turns to Sam, remembering Piper's penchant for kicking off her shoes in transit, "do you remember when you drove us last week - I think it might be in your car. Let me just grab your keys and -"
"I'll do it." He holds a hand out for Piper. "Want to help?"
She beams at the attention and trots after him out of the kitchen.
No sooner has the sliding door closed behind them than Mark starts in, no preamble. He speaks quietly, fiercely, not quite looking at her.
"There was a time, okay - it wasn't long, it was less than a year, when both my parents lived in the house. They were - they weren't fighting, not trying to kill each other, no gold-digging stepmothers or ancient stepfathers, no one throwing dishes, and - well. There it was."
Addison just listens quietly, her fingers knotting into the dishtowel she's still holding.
"That's what Piper's going to have. That's it. That time when her parents were together, when they could be in a room without - "
"Mark-"
"That's all you want for her?"
"Mark, please."
"You didn't give me a chance."
"I gave you so many chances."
"Addison-"
"Because there's an explanation for what you did? Something different you want to add? Say it, then."
"Nothing you're willing to hear."
"At least you recognize that." He opens his mouth to respond just as Sam and Piper head back in triumphantly, hand in hand.
"We found it!" Piper proffers a little red sneaker, grinning.
Addison struggles to smile back, Piper's twinkling blue eyes reminiscent enough of her father's to bring tears to her own. "What do you say to Sam, Pipes?" she chokes.
Piper turns a dazzling smile to the man whose arm is heavy at Addison's waist once more. "Thank you!"
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