I am not going to change the rating for this story because this is almost certainly a one-off, but readers should be aware that there is a scene of a sexual nature in this chapter. Some of you will appreciate that this was not an easy scene for me to write as I'm generally uncomfortable with such a level of detail! However, I do feel that the story as a whole will benefit from you knowing exactly what took place and I hope that it will help you to put subsequent chapters into perspective. Still blushing, even after several edits!
Sybil can sense the hesitancy in his touch, his lips only lightly meeting hers and so ensures that he can have no reason to question her willingness and desire. Reaching around his neck, she weaves her fingers through his hair and draws him firmly towards her. There's only brief resistance and she soon feels the palm of his hand move from her cheek to her waist before it makes its way gently around to caress her spine. Her kisses are soft but fervent, she wants to erase the trauma of his day and make it clear that the strength of her emotions is a match for his mother's earlier cruel contempt. She's aware of her own intoxication, her inhibitions are lowered, yet her mind also now feels free from all previously held caution. Hearing Tom's tale of his parents' embittered marriage and the disregard shown to him by the person who should love him most in the world has served to illuminate Sybil's own feelings towards him. All of a sudden, conversation seems inadequate and she's overwhelmed by the passion she feels, impatient to prove his worth and make it clear that she wants to be free from the self-restraint they have up until now imposed.
Wishing to pre-empt any thoughts he may have about breaking off from their union, she adjusts her position on the sofa and slowly, yet deliberately moves her leg until she's straddling his lap. He tenses marginally, but she's able to swiftly disregard such a tentative response by cupping her hands around his cheeks and slipping her tongue deftly into his mouth. This seems to obtain the desired effect as his arms tightly wrap around her and the low groan she hears at the back of his throat is matched by the obvious stirring in his groin. He runs his fingers softly through her hair and although in general she doesn't enjoy people playing with her locks, he's so gentle and respectful that the gesture instils a tingle across her torso and she emits an unexpected sigh of gratification.
His mouth moves across her face, causing her to arch her back with pleasure as he caresses her neck, light kisses sending waves of desire through her body until she finds herself grinding rhythmically into his lap. She's the first to explore under their layers of clothing, her hands reaching up under his long sleeved shirt and stroking his back, initially slowly but reaching an increased level of urgency as he matches the gesture. Sybil is not sexually inexperienced, but nor does she offer her body lightly. However, she longs for the sensation of skin upon skin, yearning for their bodies to merge in an effort to wipe away Tom's pain. She spots the look of surprise in his eyes as she breaks away momentarily to tug at his shirt, but he lifts his arms in compliance and she notes a fleeting smile as she flings it more dramatically than intended over the back of the sofa. This time she doesn't wait for him to mirror her actions, tearing off her cardigan and lifting her pretty camisole vest over her head before dropping both to the floor.
Briefly they're motionless, each gazing at one another in silence before Tom's hands reach around to unclasp her bra and he gently cups one of her breasts.
"Oh Sybil" he mutters hoarsely before bending his head and taking a nipple in his mouth. She hears herself gasp with pleasure and writhes around while his tongue gently explores. Ripples of ecstasy travel through her body and she's desperate to wholly consume him, to destroy his lack of self-worth with her indisputable devotion. He's pushing her slowly down to a horizontal position, his mouth now teasing her other breast when, in a brief silence between her guttural breaths, she whispers in his ear.
"Come to bed with me." She doesn't want to do this here; for it to end in relative discomfort, with limbs dangling over the edge of the sofa and the inevitable conclusion of polite discourse as they then decide where to sleep. No such transition is ever seamless, but he curtails his progress at her words and she takes the opportunity to push herself up on her elbows and offer him a smile of such undoubting promise and certainty that he allows himself to be silently led into the bedroom and his remaining clothes to be swiftly discarded.
She's in charge once again, straddling him on her knees as she covers his neck and chest with urgent kisses, while reaching down and taking enjoyment from his obvious pleasure as she strokes his length. As she leans towards her bedside cabinet for a packet of condoms that had been long-ago purchased for a relationship which had never fulfilled its potential, she feels his hand gently slip between her legs and gives an involuntary jerk as he caresses her most sensitive area. A display of extended foreplay is not her priority on this occasion and although it would be very easy to lose herself in these sensations of rapture while he explores with his fingers, she retains an element of focus while unwrapping the condom and applying it with ease. Tom's eyes roll towards the back of his head in response to the sensation it provides, but as she rises and then slowly lowers herself on to him, their eyes meet and he whispers her name once again.
"Oh God, Tom" she says softly in response, leaning forward to firmly kiss his lips, before she sits back upright and strives to find a mutually agreeable rhythm. His eyes close and she throws her head back as she enjoys the sensations flowing through her body, one palm lying face down on his chest, while her other hand clutches his as he holds on to her hip. She feels the fingers on his free hand move to stroke her and cries out as a wave of pleasure overtakes her.
Just as she begins to think that this isn't going to take very long for either of them, he abruptly stops and begins to push himself up with his arms, until he can wrap one around her waist and hold her tightly while his lips revisit hers. With a smile, she returns the gesture with equal fervour and plays with the hair on the back of his neck, while gently caressing his nipple with her other hand. Slowly, she rises a little and tries to return to their previous motion, but he squeezes her tightly in an attempt to curtail her efforts. His lips are gentle but accomplished and his tongue explores her mouth so adeptly that she is can hear herself beginning to pant with longing. Yet he seems to have no desire to alter their position and continues to hold her tightly, preventing the resumption of their earlier activity. Sybil starts to lose herself in the sensation of simply kissing and yet, feeling Tom still hard inside her, it's without doubt the most erotic and sensual experience of her life. All of her nerve endings are tingling at his slightest touch and as his palm conducts a circular stroke close to her spine, she wonders if she might reach her peak without any further exploration.
She's unsure of how long they remain fastened in their embrace, but just as she feels herself on the verge of reaching the point of no return, he lowers himself slowly down on to his back and their eyes lock once again. Her insides seem to melt as he smiles at her and he grasps one of her hands as he rises into her and she instinctively moves to meet him. His fingers ensure that within seconds she's crying out with joy, revelling in the shudders of ecstasy which envelop her and aware of him joining her in mutual pleasure only moments later.
She collapses down on to his chest with a low moan and his palms encircle her head, his fingers locked in her hair as he pulls her towards him for another long and rewarding kiss. As she gently climbs off him, he winces a little and reaches down to remove the condom, holding it uncertainly above the duvet for a moment, before she takes it from him and drops it inelegantly on the floor. She doesn't want this feeling of conjoined contentment to end and an awkward bathroom trip might run the risk of derailing the process. No words are spoken as they lay side by side, legs entwined; in all honesty Sybil can't think of any verbal colloquy which could merit what has just taken place. He kisses her nose and she closes her eyes in appreciation of his gentle caress on her back. Gradually the sensation comes to a halt as she hears the slow, rhythmic sounds of his breath and realises that he has fallen asleep.
ooOoo
On awakening the following morning, she finds herself in her habitual position - curled in the foetal position on the right hand side of the bed, one hand tucked under her pillow – and a familiar ache between her legs. Her head is pounding and she's wholly aware of a sour taste of whiskey at the back of her tongue. Rolling slowly over and wincing at the slivers of sunlight which appear through the crack in the curtains, her mood is lightened at the sight of Tom sleeping soundly beside her. He's facing her, appearing peaceful and content and she takes a moment to affectionately admire his long eyelashes and strong definition of the lips with which she is now so intimately acquainted. Although she blushes at the recollection of elements of last night's events, she has no regrets at the step they've taken and is confident that it will only serve to strengthen their unity while the investigation into Emma's disappearance progresses. With a pleasant lustful twinge, she remembers how seamlessly they came together and the way in which their bodies moved together to provide mutual comfort and pleasure. Emboldened by thoughts of his previous reaction to her leading the proceedings, she's on the verge of reaching out to him and encouraging the start of a repeat performance. However, the throbbing in her head is taking precedence and besides, she wouldn't want to kiss herself with this current stale taste in her mouth.
Locked in the bathroom, she gratefully swallows two paracetemol tablets, drinks a large glass of water and brushes her teeth, slapping trickles of water on her pale, hungover complexion and trying to control her tresses which are sticking out in all manner of alarming directions. It's while she's sitting on the toilet that she hears the sound of movement and after donning her dressing gown and exiting, can't help but feel disappointed to see from afar that the covers are thrown back and her bed is now empty.
She finds him in the kitchen, his back towards the door, waiting for the kettle to boil. He's retrieved his t-shirt from behind the sofa as well as his jeans from her bedroom floor and stands bare-footed and utterly motionless.
"Morning" she says softly, leaning against the door frame and smiling indulgently at his image. She hears his brief intake of breath before he turns to her and her stomach lurches unpleasantly in anticipation of what she can tell he is about to say.
"I'm sorry…" he begins and she can't help but feel that this short phrase is utterly inadequate. "…that shouldn't have happened last night."
"I'm glad it did!" she declares, her chin rising in defiance. "I wanted it to!"
He breaks eye contact and busies himself with making tea and coffee, shaking his head during the process.
"It was very inappropriate, I was in a bad place yesterday and I took advantage of you."
An exasperated laugh escapes her lips. "I'm not a child!" she proclaims.
"I know, but we were too drunk to realise what we were doing." He continues to avoid her gaze, stirring the drinks rigorously and glancing out of the window.
"I knew exactly what I was doing, thank you very much. Don't include my state of mind in your misrepresentation of events!"
"Well it was wrong!" he snaps, his eyes suddenly flashing with emotion. "We're supposed to be concentrating on finding Emma, not fucking like rabbits in your bedroom!" She can't help but flinch at his choice of words and is certain that she spots an fleeting moment of shame in his expression as he turns away from her again, one hand holding on to the kitchen counter.
"It wasn't just fucking, Tom." She speaks quietly but firmly, emphasising the word she finds so unpleasant in the context of what has taken place. "It was more than just sex and I'm sure you know that. But if you want to deny what happened between us and make certain that it never happens again, then that's your decision."
Her insides are churning and she blinks rapidly to erase the tears of disappointment and hurt which are threatening to emerge, as she quickly moves back to her bedroom, picking up her own clothes en route and trying to busy herself with folding them. Her alcohol induced headache has disappeared, replaced instead by a sharp thump, combining incredulity and distress. In frustration, she grabs the clothes with both hands and flings them into her laundry basket, pushing them with force down to the bottom, as if trying to eradicate her own impression of the night's events. She wants to keep herself occupied, reluctant to allow him to witness an image of her pain and so pulls out a drawer from her chest, tipping out the contents on to the still rumpled duvet and trying to concentrate her mind on their rearrangement.
"I'm sorry if I've upset you, Sybil. It's really the last thing I wanted to do."
He's standing by her bedroom door, fingers tapping on the architrave, clearly feeling awkward at this exchange.
She clears her throat while pretending to concentrate on the items strewn across her bed, not trusting herself to make eye contact while nodding in acknowledgement of his words.
"You haven't upset me…" she replies "…you've disappointed me!" and in an involuntary reaction, her penultimate word is almost spat with exasperation. "I thought you were stronger than your reaction implies."
She glances up to meet his gaze and almost immediately, he looks away with embarrassment.
"Well it's probably best that you're disappointed with me now, rather than later." he says softly and she's certain that she can hear an element of regret in his tone.
"I've never wanted to take anything away from Emma's investigation, you know." She has won't beg for him to reconsider, but neither will she allow him to leave without offering some explanation of her point of view.
"I shouldn't have suggested otherwise, you've been so supportive, I do appreciate that."
"And I want to continue to help you in whatever way I can."
"Thank you"
"But I don't think what happened last night deflects from her case."
"Well, I…" but she doesn't allow him to respond and continues to press forward with her clarification.
"It was never my intention to monopolise you in any way and I completely understand if you're not in a position to want to commit to any kind of formal relationship at the moment."
"Yes, that's wh…."
"But I think we're both fully aware that our friendship has developed into something more substantial over the last few weeks and if you want to deny it, then you're lying to yourself."
"Sybil, I can't…" He looks at her pleadingly for a moment, before turning away with a grimace, shaking his head, then swallowing deeply. When he returns to meet her steady scrutiny, his eyes present a steely glint and any hint of previous softening has now vanished.
"I'm very sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. It's entirely my fault."
"Don't say that!" she responds angrily, throwing down the piece of paper she's holding and glaring at him in defiance. "Walk away if you want, but don't refute what's happening here! Maybe now's not the right time for us, but in the future, when the case is solved…" Her declaration is open-ended; avoiding any firm commitment, but ripe for his potentially mitigating response.
"You don't want to get into a relationship with me, Sybil." he says coldly and she feels the final embers of hope extinguish.
"Well I think I should be the judge of that." It's said firmly, but without any hint of further anticipation. She won't allow him to pass off his opinion as her own, regardless of its inevitable conclusion. He is looking down at the floor, his hand still resting on the doorframe and she hears the ghost of an audible sigh.
"I'm sorry Sybil. I really am. I'll be in touch about the case." Seconds later she hears the soft click of the front door closing and understands that he has gone.
Presses 'Post New Chapter' and ducks for cover….
