The Twilight Twenty-Five
thetwilight25[dot]com
Prompt: Island
Pen Name: Kimmydonn
Pairing/Main Character(s): Berty/Goff
Rating: 18A
This is a multi-chapter story
Photo prompts can be viewed here:
thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts
As Tony began the long flight back to Washington, he looked out the window at the place he was leaving behind. A beautiful green triangle shimmed in the gaps between the clouds that blocked his view. Completely surrounded by water, his island home was isolated, independent.
He'd thought he was the same. He'd thought his life on the island had taught him how to segregate himself, to stand completely alone.
Simon and Garfunkelknew what they sang about, but Tony wasn't a rock, wasn't an island. He had been, when he'd first left England. His mother's death had cast a hard shell around him, trying to protect himself from the grief, from the family that would remind him of her. He had been callous.
Sometime in the last few years, that shell had been cracked open. It hadn't fallen apart, he was still independent and continued to isolate himself somewhat, but it had cracked. A woman had either made the cracks or made use of them to reach past the hard exterior and wake the man hidden inside.
This trip had shattered that shell. Seeing his father and not feeling dogged by the old man, not constantly at least, had helped him step free. His sister's warmth and her humor had brushed away the pieces.
It had been so clear when he was with them that they were his family, that the island was his home. At the same time, he longed to return to another gray and misty landscape that he had thought was home. He realized now that neither was. The isle on which he was born welcomed him, sheltered him. The peninsula jutting into the Atlantic gave him something to strive toward and called him back. His real home was likely on that peninsula again, but hadn't been when he left. His real home would be wherever his heart took him. The woman who broke his shell took his home and heart with her.
He hoped Bernice was back from San Diego. He hoped things had gone well and she had enjoyed her time with family. He was surprised how much he had enjoyed his.
He missed her. He wanted to look into her deep brown eyes. He wanted to feel the warmth of her body close to his. He wanted to hear her lilting voice caress the words of her native tongue.
Adjusting himself in his seat, he didn't banish thoughts of being with Bernice. Instead he found a sleep mask and indulged them. Letting his mind drift in dreams.
Britain returned to his surprise. He stood looking out at the ocean from the cliffs west of his home. Sharpness wasn't on the coast, but the ocean was easy enough to reach. The land jutted out beneath him, giving the impression of avery small island rather than the large one the entire land formed.
"Thank you," Bernice said in his dream, wrapping her arms around his waist and pinning herself to his side. "It's lovely."
He looked down at her, at the soft sweater that hugged her breasts, the curls of dark hair against the light cashmere. Her eyes were bright, looking up to him and her full lips parted in a smile that he couldn't help but reflect. The waves crashed loudly and the wind pulled at them, but he ignored both to focus on her. The more he did, the more the surroundings melted away. Soon, in his dream, they were alone, floating in emptiness. Their own island in a sea of black.
Clothing disappeared and Tony clung to Bernice, wrapping arms and legs around her. His pale white skin and her rich brown contrasting and mixing.
"I love you," he whispered. Words he'd never said to her. Words he knew he couldn't say. True words. He would never weigh her down with his own feelings, his own need for her. They had something that worked for both of them and he would be damned before he ruined that with words like love.
He couldn't deny it to himself any more, though. He was in love with Bernice. He wanted her when she wasn't there. He longed to share everything with her, his time, his mind, his family...everything that made him Tony. He wanted her to have all of it, to protect it, to hold it safe in her heart.
He wouldn't let her know. He would do his best to respond to her as he always had, to keep their relationship light and carefree, but in his heart, he knew that if she turned from him, he would break. He would pull that wall up faster than he had at Mum's death and become an island once more. He couldn't be himself without Bernice.
He woke slowly. The lights in the cabin had come on, indicating morning on the Pacific coast. "When did I become a sap?" he asked himself, sitting up. The passenger next to him smiled but didn't hear him correctly.
"Nap?" she asked.
"Yes. Feels like I've been asleep for hours." He yawned and stretched, looking out the window to see the eastern US barely visible on the horizon.
"Not that long. Two hours? Three?" She turned the page of her magazine.
Tony counted how many hours of flight remained. Too many. He squeezed past the woman to make his way to the cramped bathroom. The evidence of his dream was still there, an aching cock. Dreaming of himself wrapped around Bernice would have that affect.
He leaned into the wall behind the toilet, hissing as he took himself in his hand. Damn, he was horny. He tried to sink back into the dream, but now that he was awake, it kept jumping and shifting, the images not staying steady for him. He was hovering over Bernice. No, she was riding him. No, she was blowing him. No...
Maddened, he gritted his teeth and focused on their last night together in Seattle. He remembered her bent over the bed, her hips in his hands. He remembered sliding into her, feeling her slick around him. He thrust his hips toward the toilet just as he had into Bernice, ramming himself into her, feeling her open for him.
He groaned at the memory, rocking his hips into his hand rather than pumping his arms. Fuck, it had been good. She had squeezed and squealed and cursed. The sound of her cries came back, "Ay caray. Deu. Christo."
He loved her dirty mouth, especially when he had no idea what she was saying. It sounded so good. She felt so good.
Knock. "Are you nearly done in there?"
Tony cursed loudly himself. "Fucking, fucker...ah," he groaned as the next thrust did what all the ones before had tried. He felt himself curl from the toes up through his thighs. He curled down through his chest, hunching, his stomach tightening. Then he pulsed with his orgasm, shooting the stream straight into the open bowl.
With a sigh of relief he straightened up, zipped, and washed his hands. He opened the door for the impatient man outside. "Sorry, all yours," he said politely, making his way to his chair.
The woman smirked over her magazine. "Really needed that, did you?"
He didn't know if she was referring to what he'd done or just assumed it was a relieved bladder. He decided it didn't matter. "Yes, I did." He rested his head on the headrest and closed his eyes again. A smile stretched across his lips.