A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews for the last chapter. They were much appreciated. Made my day after a toughtime at work. The computer is on its way to being fixed, so I am keeping my fingers crossed.
So here you go, chapter ten of my going on longest story ever written. By hand no less.
Another thing that may strike you as amusing. I had this plan for the story, with many notes written on it. The last two lines were They save Tara and Alec and Max make it back to Manticore, growing closer along the way. Now correct me if I am wrong, but the saving Tara bit was in chapter four I think. Who knew a single sentence could become the bulk of the fic.
Oh and what Tara does halfway through the chapter, our little neighbour across the road said that abozt my brother whois 27 now. Had us in stitches at the time.
There are a couple of swearwords in this chapter. Ye be warned.
It was the little things that finally got to Alec, tumbling from like through lust and into love.
The time when Max got bored with the radio being stuck on one station and decided to fix it. Mid drive 'cause it takes too long to stop'. Flipping around she had hooked her feet behind the headrest and leaned backwards under the dashboard. Her shirt rode up to expose a tiny sliver of her toned stomach and he had almost veered off road, causing her to bang her head somewhere. The string of extremely colourful curse words in six languages threw Tara into shocked giggles. The radio did work better after that though.
Nights became a new form of torture, whether they ended up sleeping like the first night, Tara a warm weight on one side and Max behind her, or with him behind Max, spooning her through the night. For somebody who claimed to need no sleep cause of shark DNA, Max sure didn't seem to have trouble sleeping now.
And boy could that girl move through the night, would put a lap dancer to shame, wriggling and shifting against him. On more than one occasion he had had to sneak to the bathroom at a ridiculously early time. Locking himself in, shower at full blast, he stepped manfully into the icy torrents, shivering, belly tight with lust, until it faded beneath the onslaught of freezing water.
She had this habit of prancing around in panties and skimpy tank tops, sitting cross-legged on the floor, Tara in her lap, as she quizzed the girl on her letters and numbers.
The domesticity of it all got to him next, the sheer normalcy of it. It became the norm for landlords and waitresses to treat them as a family, asking if their daughter needed anything else and 'ain't she just the spitting image of you two darlins.' The first time it happened he froze in shock, sure somebody was going to jump out from behind a wall and blow their cover.
Soldiers aren't supposed to play happy families.
It filled him with a warm glow. His soul yearning for something he had convinced himself he could not have.
It frightened and tickled him pink when Tara began to relax around him, leaning into him when she became tired. Letting him carry her, a warm limp weight in his arms. The feeling of her head lolling against his shoulder a phantom pain he felt for hours afterwards. The three of them were drifting, living the fantasy and he didn't want to give it up. Couldn't fathom giving his girls up.
Max felt like there were ants dancing under her skin. She had grown up at Manticore, had never had the opportunity to develop any form of self-consciousness. Embarrassment was unknown.
Group showers and frequent physicals ensured that they had never had the chance to become uncomfortable around each other. Differences just were. It didn't matter what package your bomb disposal technician came in, you just wanted to be damn sure that it didn't blow up around your ears. Growing up in extended family units with a healthy dose of feline DNA meant that more often than not they ended up in a large pile on the bed of whoever had gone to sleep first.
She'd grown up with men and woman that could easily make their living on the catwalk, preternaturally beautiful and compelling. Faces and bodies trained to perfection. She had thought nothing of walking around her family half naked.
Something about Alec though was different, made her nervous, self-conscious, feeling as if her skin was alternately too small or too big.
She was acutely, excruciatingly aware of his body, a warm presence in the back of her mind. Could pinpoint his position with her eyes closed. More than once, while playing with Tara in another one of their dingy motel rooms, or waiting for their food to come, she had glanced up moments before he came into view.
And there was another thing. Insomnia had plagued her all her life. Although 'plague' was a strong word, considering she didn't actually suffer from lack of sleep.
And now she slept for seven or eight hours at a time, almost dreamlessly. Curled into their bed, Tara a warm weight on one side, Alec a solid presence at her back, comforting and soothing.
This Alec teased her senses, endlessly frustrating and intriguing. Glimpses of the old Alec were still there. The Alec she had grown up with, had challenged at everything Manticore threw at them, to the exclusion of all others. He could still be just as snarky as she remembered. His smart-Alec tendencies shining through, witty quips raining from his lips in a never-ending torrent.
And then there was the new Alec. The man that patiently waited for Tara to come to him, knowing that the little girl needed to be in control, needed time to realise that not all men were like her family.
The man that could sit for hours on end as Tara skittered back and forth, drawn to him but shy of taking that last step. Who smiled with genuine pleasure the first time she fell asleep against him, not to wake when he gathered her up and carried her to bed, tucking her in for the night.
This new Alec held doors open for them, walked with their hands linked. Steered them gently along crowded walkways, his hand a warm presence in the small of her back. She told herself it was just to keep up appearances, but something inside her said this was different.
And then there was the ring. It made sense of course. They were masquerading as a couple with a young child and the absence of a wedding band had caused raised eyebrows on more than one occasion. People were more conservative on the back roads of America, more likely to remember you, if you broke the norm. While it was unlikely that the Maclays were following them, why take chances. There were other threats out there. And so one day Alec had come back with a matching set of wedding bands, simple gold rings he had probably picked up at a pawn shop.
It felt weird. He had taken her hand and slipped the ring in place, sliding it easily past her knuckles. It rested coldly at the base of her finger until her body heat had warmed it up. And then she did the same for him, cheeks staining pink at the intimacy of the moment.
The first couple of days she managed to snag the ring on just about everything. Too unused to the sensation of something where there had been nothing before. And then from one moment to the next it was a part of her, as it had always been there.
She felt poised on the edge. This Alec pulled at her, tugged at her senses, her emotions, demanding and giving. She could fall for him so easily, was breathlessly waiting for the plunge, quivering on the fringes of realisation.
And then one day she knew. Tara was watching Alec clean their truck through the window, her little hands resting on folded hands. With a dreamy sigh the little girl staked her claim. "Alec. My Alec."
Jealousy blossomed in Max like a flower.
Alec and Max were dancing around each other like cats on a hot tin roof. One would advance and the other retreat. A teasing, tempting, tiresome pas de deux.
Alec dragged a hand through his already mussed hair. The humidity was sticking to his skin, bathing him in sweat, making his skin itchy and restless. It was unseasonably hot for the time of year, the temperature jumping around ten degrees in a day, making people irritable and drowsy.
Leaning back in his chair he let his hand drop from his hair, wiping the sweat from his brow and then swiping down his bare chest. It was too hot to move, too hot to think, too hot to wear anything but the bare essentials.
And therein lay the problem. All three had stripped down to their underwear. An hour before Max and Tara had decided to sleep it out, at least until nightfall when it got cool enough to contemplate going somewhere for dinner. The two girls lay spread-eagled on top of the bedspread, letting the meagre breeze from the room's aged fan glide over their bodies.
Tara lay on her back like a little starfish, her slowly rounding limbs splayed every which way, mouth open ever so slightly. A few strands of hair were sticking damply to her forehead and neck. And even though it was too hot to be in contact with another body, one of her tiny hands was wrapped securely in one of Max's. Body contact with at least one of them seemed to be the only thing to keep her frequent nightmares at bay.
Max lay on her tummy, one knee bent slightly, skimpy pants riding low on the swell of her hips, her only other garment a bra, leaving the long line of her back exposed to his heated gaze. She had swept her hair up in a messy bun, leaving her neck - and bar code - exposed.
Alec's fingers dug into the arms of his chair, the wood creaking slightly in complaint at the pressure. Self-control struggled with lust. He wanted her, wanted her with every fibre of his being, yearned to go over there and let his hands slide along the sweat-slickened lines and curves of her body. Ached for it so much he could taste it.
Only two things held him in check. One was Tara sleeping so trustingly at Max's side. No was he ever going to let anything happen with the girl in the same room. And second he wanted more than a tumble out of Max, much, much more. Frightingly more. He wanted everything. Her waking and her sleeping hours. Her last thought at night and her first in the morning. Beauty and looks.
God knew she had all of him.
Dragging his hands through his hair once more, Alec jumped up to take another lukewarm shower.
And Max's eyes snapped open.
She could feel his gaze on her body like a weight, tracking and marking, charting the contours, dips and swells of her body. She didn't dare move, her body aflame with desire, belly filled with liquid heat, breasts swelling, tightening.
He was across the room from them, in the ratty armchair by the door. Max didn't have to open her eyes to know that. Heat rolled off him in waves, laden with tantalising elements of sweat, male and Alec.
She ached to go over, straddle his lap and lick her way up his neck to that delectable mouth of his. Could practically feel the muscles in chest jump and twitch beneath the palms of her hands, their combined sweat almost an oil, making them slip and slide over each other. She wanted him inside her, be as close to him as she possibly could.
Max knew that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. It was there in every word, every touch, every look.
And she didn't know what he was waiting for. Well apart from the obvious of course. Tara needed them almost constantly, her sleep fraught with nightmares. Needed constant reassurance in daylight that they were there, were not going to leave her. There were quiet moments too, though, late at night and early in the morning. Hours when he could have done something, anything. And yet he held back, held himself in check, when all she wanted to do was jump his bones and then spend the rest of her life with him.
Her eyes snapped open at the sound of a door. Alec was no longer in his chair. Must have gone for a walk, now that it was finally cooling down a little. Gone for a walk instead of doing what she desperately wanted him to do - drag her off somewhere to have his wicked way with her.
Christ, but she needed a cold shower.