Rated M
She stirred the mixture on the stove pensively, her lips pursed. The sweet smell of cinnamon wafted up from the bowl, assaulting her nose. She felt the sneeze coming and turned away quickly, sneezing quickly on her shoulder.
"Y'alright there, Montana?" Danny called from the bedroom.
She prepared to speak, but felt the tingle in the space between her eyes. She put the bowl down and headed for the bathroom to get some tissues.
After a fitful round of sneezing, she managed a muffled, "I'm fine." She collected tissues and stuffed them in her pockets.
"I hope you didn't get any snot in the apple pie mix," Danny said.
She turned around to see him leaning on the doorway. "I think I'm sick," she said, wiping her nose.
"You sure it wasn't just the cinnamon?"
She nodded. "I've been stuffy and achy all day."
He frowned. "Maybe we should get you checked out? You know, for the baby and all."
"It's a cold, Danny," she sniffed, still wiping her nose, "not pneumonia. Now go finish the pie. I'm too tired."
He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "Mmm," he hummed, "you smell like cinnamon." He kissed her neck and helped her to the couch, wrapping her up in a blanket.
They'd been on edge since Evan had been released on bail and had vanished. It didn't bother Lindsay as much as she thought it would. Danny had nearly blown his lid when he'd found out, hollering and going off on the prosecutor, asking what the hell he was thinking not fighting against the bail. Lately, though, his anger seemed to have evolved into precaution, as a new lock had appeared on Lindsay's door, a back-up gun had been placed in the cabinet above the kitchen sink, and Danny had refused to leave her alone.
Lindsay's main concern was her stomach. Nearly a week had passed since the fiasco with Evan, yet Lindsay wondered why her stomach had grown so in such a short length of time. Fifteen weeks along, they said. Lindsay didn't even feel pregnant. She felt fat as hell. It looked like she'd ordered every special at Denny's the night before. The worst part was, Danny hadn't touched her. Sure, they'd kissed. A lot. He'd given her a number of promising massages, but nothing ever happened the way she'd expected. A quick kiss to her buttery-smooth, relaxed flesh and he'd roll over and go to sleep.
And it wasn't as if her earlier problems had just "gone away." They were still there, having a little party low in her stomach every time she saw Danny with his shirt off. Every night.
She was sure it wasn't just the stomach that had been turning him off. The mood swings had taken her full force. She'd practically gotten emotional whiplash from the wide spectrum of feelings she was going through. The situation with Evan didn't help much. She had no desire to talk about it in the first place, having worked hard on blocking off that entire part of her life, and all of a sudden this … heavily ripped, steamy New Yorker is asking her to open it all up.
Having put herself in another bad mood, she crossed her arms and turned on the TV.
Danny came in to give her a slice of one of the apples, but, upon seeing her furrowed brow and the way she slammed her thumb into the remote control buttons, quickly turned around and headed back for the kitchen with jet-like speed.
He waited another half-hour before heading back into the room. She was resting her head on the armrest, anger eased off her face. She lazily watched Dr. Phil. Her eyes flicked up to watch him.
He sat down, absentmindedly wiping the spilled flour on his shirt. He rubbed at the region, located just between his pecs. Lindsay watched, eyes wide. He licked his finger and rubbed more, working the spot out of the shirt. Lindsay's eyes closed briefly, fluttering happily.
The flour clotted, and stuck to his shirt.
"Fuck," he muttered, and ripped the shirt off, exposing his chest to Lindsay. A grin spread across her face. She reached out to snag his arm and roll him under her, but just as she did so, he got up to get another one. Lindsay pouted.
He came back wearing a soft blue shirt that Lindsay decided to rest her head on. Danny stroked her hair slowly, grazing her scalp with his fingernails. When he stopped, Lindsay sat up and kissed him roughly.
I'll make him do it, she thought fiercely, I'll do anything I have to. She knew that if the feeling between her legs didn't dissipate before the night was through, she'd go out and get a vibrator. Or she'd simply implode. Either way.
She wound her hand in his hair and dragged another hand up his shirt, feeling the tensed muscles. Danny chuckled into her mouth and helped her onto his lap, running one hand up and down her back as she kissed him.
She finally pulled his shirt off and wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin bleed into her own shirt. He reached around her and grabbed the remote control, flicking off the television and chucking the control onto the floor.
"Desperate much Montana?" he growled, turning her so she fell underneath him on the couch. He propped himself up with his forearms and let his lower body rest on hers.
After a few minutes, he gave her a smile, a sigh, and pulled himself up. He walked out to the kitchen and checked on the apple pie.
Lindsay was too stunned to say anything, merely pushed herself up on her elbows and stared, openmouthed, at the kitchen.
"Should we go over baby names?" Danny called from the kitchen.
"Wha … what?" Lindsay managed.
"You know, baby names. I mean, I know we don't know the sex yet, but I think we could get some ideas out there."
"Are you kidding me?" she groaned, and sank back into the couch.
He appeared over the top of the couch, looking down at her. "'Bout what?" he asked, his mouth filled with hot apple pie.
She struggled with telling him, wondering how much he would make fun of her versus how turned on he would be. Judging by my current body figure, my guess is zilch on the latter, she thought, But in terms of my horniness, I don't think I have a choice.
"Sit down," she said, frowning.
He chuckled at her firmness, and sat next to her, still shirtless, sucking apple pie bits from his fingers. She was mesmerized by his actions until she shook her head and knocked herself back to the task at hand.
"I need your help."
"Somethin' wrong? You OK? Is the baby OK? 'Cause if not, then my question falls into the 'danger clause,' and I get to –"
"Shut up," she said, rolling her eyes.
He sat back, dumbfounded.
"I'm fine. I just … just listen and don't talk. I have some things to tell you." She took a breath. "Who do you think you are?"
"I … uh …"
"You can't just come in here, all cocky and … and gorgeous, and drag me around like you've done!"
"Um …" he stared at her, watching her move her hands about, flicking and waving them around her as she illustrated her point, whatever it was.
She grabbed his hands and stared right at him, "Danny, you have no idea how horny I am. It's actually the worst thing ever. And you're really not helping."
"Linds, I," he tried to slip his hands from her grasp, but she held tighter.
"And it's not even a certain time of day, even. All the time, I'm just waiting for you to grab me and kiss me and throw me onto the bed." She took a breath, and her voice softened. "I mean, I get it. I know I'm not as pretty as I was when I wasn't pregnant, and I have this," she gestured to her stomach, "now, and I'm mad all the time and I throw up a lot, but I'm begging you. I've tried to deal with this … problem on my own, believe me I have. So will you at least just …"
He never let her finish her sentence. He grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her to him, kissing her fiercely while one hand fumbled with her shirt. He dragged it over her head and threw it away, then focused on her pants. He undid the drawstring of her sweats and helped her shove them away.
Hoisting her up, he started towards the bedroom, taking a detour now and then to press her against the wall and focus on kissing her.
Finally, when they got to the bed, she was completely naked. He stood above her, quickly undoing his pants, then pushed them down and stepped out of them. Before she could react, he was on top of her again, one hand on her hip and another on her breast.
She moaned loudly into his mouth. He brought his hand down between her legs and caressed and massaged her until she gasped and her eyelids fluttered. She smiled at him, touching his face, and let her hand travel lower. He caught it at his abdomen and brought it up above her head.
"You think I'm done?" he asked, smirking at her.
When she blinked open her eyes, she was lying with the covers tucked on top of her. She lifted one arm and raised the blanket. Yep, still naked, she noted. She turned over and saw Danny, lying next to her, softly stroking his thumb across her temple.
She smiled at him. He kissed her softly on her dry lips and sighed softly.
"You're so gorgeous," he said, "so freakin' gorgeous."
"Freakin'?" Lindsay asked with a giggle.
"Yes, freakin'." He kissed her neck softly, running his hands up and down her body.
"If I'm so freakin' gorgeous, then how come it took you so long?" She meant it as a joke, but a slight edge in her voice told him to take her seriously.
"Because I didn't know you wanted it yet. I thought we were gonna wait."
Lindsay smiled.
He propped his head up on his elbow and looked down at her. "So …" he said, his face adorably confused, "whadja mean, you tried everything?"
"What?" she laughed.
"You were horny … and you tried … everything."
Lindsay shrugged. "What do you think it means?"
Danny's eyes went wide, then squinted, then he smirked his famous grin. "You did not."
She rolled her eyes. "I did. But it didn't work."
"You sure you were doing it right?" he asked, kissing her neck.
"I do – oh, oh!"
As he kissed lower and lower, she bit her lip rolled her head back. With each thrust of his tongue, she clenched her hands in the pillow until she couldn't take it anymore. She blinked once, twice, then fell back, all muscles dead except for the clenching between her legs. She thought she saw stars before her vision faded and she breathed one long, shuddering breath.