Title: A Dream Life
Author: Andrea (CarbyLove@aol.com)
Rating: R. You'll notice I bumped it up to R because I answered the request for some smut. If anyone doesn't like to read that kind of thing … um, I guess you'd better skip this chapter. Or most of it anyway.
Author's Note: So I know I said that Chapter 3 would be a long one, but as it turns out, it's actually kind of short. There's a reason for that, though. I decided that what I had intended to put into Chapter 3 would actually work better as two separate chapters. So here's a short'n'smutty Chapter 3 for those of you who were hoping for some of that kind of thing. And Chapter 4 should be up shortly.
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A Dream Life
Chapter 3: Late
I'm just pouring the juice while I wait for the toast to pop up, when I feel his arms slide around me.
Arms wrapping around my waist and his head on my shoulder, we sway back and forth as I crane my head around for my good-morning kiss. It was the simple things like this that I missed the most when we were apart. No one to say good morning to. No one to give me a good morning kiss. I even missed the morning breath.
"Morning, beautiful." He mumbles into my mass of bed-head hair.
"Good morning, sleepyhead." I say as I push him away playfully. "I didn't think you would ever wake up. I was forced to start cooking in the hopes that the smell of scrambled eggs would somehow manage to penetrate the coma you had apparently slipped into."
"Hey, I can't help it. Jet lag. That fact that somebody kept me up all night didn't help either."
"Sleepless nights … better get used to it." He just grins at me. I knew this whole baby thing would make him happy, but I didn't realize just how much he wanted it. After all, we never really talked about it I should have learned my lesson about that from the last time around, but somehow it just never came up. And now, I guess, it really doesn't matter.
"Well, it was for a good cause …" He says, drawing me out of my thoughts. "I guess it's worth being late for my first shift in a month."
"Somehow I don't think Weaver will agree."
"Well, I'm sure once I tell her why I was late, she'll cut me some slack."
"For jet lag? I don't think so."
Reaching out for me and turning me around to face him, he says, "Well, maybe we just need to come up with a better excuse." His hands move to my waist as his lips move in to capture mine in a lingering kiss. While his tongue explores my mouth, his hands travel from my waist down the hem of his pajama top that I've claimed as my own. When his hands slide up inside it touching my bare flesh, I find myself shivering. If this is what two weeks apart does to us, maybe we should try it more often. His body closes the distance between us, pushing my back against the counter, but all I can feel are his warm hands, his hot lips, the extent of his desire as he brushes up against my leg. His lips leave mine to start a trail across jaw and up to my ear.
"Uhhnn," the words I mean to speak come out as a moan. I try again, "Somehow I don't think 'sex on the kitchen floor' will be an acceptable excuse either."
"Who said anything about the floor?" I catch his grin as he hoists me up on to the counter and then immediately moves his head to my breast, nuzzling and sucking on the nipple through the thin fabric.
"Okay, sex on the kitchen counter then. But that's not going to be an good excuse either."
"Abby," he starts as he pulls his head away from my chest, "it's not like this is purely recreational. I mean, if we want a baby, this is the sacrifice we'll have to make."
"Well, I guess if we have to. But still, I think we provided plenty of chances for Baby Carter to pop into existence last night, don't you?"
"Probably. But somehow 'I had to impregnate my wife' sounds better than 'I was horny.' I mean, as excuses go …"
"You'd better not use either one. Maybe we should just put this on hold until later. And get to work now."
"I don't think I can wait. I missed you so much."
"Apparently. But I though this was supposed to be procreational sex, not making-up-for-lost time sex." By now, his hands are still busy running all around my bare flesh under my nightshirt. His lips have found there way back to my neck, and I'm starting to forget all about getting to work on time. Or at all, even.
"It can be both."
"You really want to conceive our child in the kitchen?"
"Why not? Maybe it'll grow up and be a gourmand."
"Speaking of food … breakfast will get cold, you know."
"Who needs to eat?"
Okay, all good arguments. Persuasive, although probably not quite as persuasive as one hand trailing up and down my back while the other gently fondles my breast. At this rate, we really won't ever get to work "Aren't you worn out after last night?"
"Nope. I've been saving up my energy the past few weeks."
"Good to know. But really, we are gonna be so late. By the time we do … this and shower and get dressed …" I trail off as he looks up at me with a mischievous little grin.
"Maybe there's a way we can save some time after all." He says with a waggle of his eyebrows. Well, hell … who doesn't love steamy shower sex? Yeah, okay, that could work. He untangles his body from mine and grabs my hand, helping me hop off the counter. We practically skip into the bathroom. Within moments our pajamas are on a heap on the floor. He turns on the water before turning back to me. He pins me up against the wall, one hand on either side of my head and leans down to kiss me. Over and over we kiss, waiting for the water to warm up. And then we climb in together, hand in hand. I would have thought that last night would have been more than enough, but maybe we're going for some sort of record here. Not that I'm complaining. In my experience, being naked in the shower, with my husband, is generally a good thing.
At the moment he's soaping up the loofa and giving me a smoldering look. Something tells me this whole shower thing isn't really going to save us any time. He reaches out and takes hold of my arm -- just my arm for God's sake -- and shivers rush up and down my body.
"Cold?" he asks. I just shake my head mutely. Even if I were, I have a feeling I'll be warming up shortly. He's already off to a good start with his hands running all over my body. Which is perfectly understandable for the hand with the loofa, but what his other hand is doing has absolutely nothing with helping me get clean. The loofa, however, is producing lots of bubbles which are running in warm rivulets over my body and pooling at my feet. At the moment, he is softly and slowly rubbing my shoulders. I watch as his eyes follow the path of bubbles across my shoulders, over my breasts, down my stomach. It only takes a moment until his hands follow where his eyes were moments ago. I lean my head back and close my eyes. I only open them when, suddenly, his hands are gone. Oops, he dropped the sponge. And he's bending over to pick it up. Well, I can't resist an opportunity like that so I reach to pinch his cute little butt.
"Ow!" He stands up abruptly and gives me hurt look. "That hurt."
I roll my eyes at his apparent display of whimpiness "Aww, do you need a kiss to make it better?"
"Uh-huh," he nods as he leans in for a kiss. Our lips meet, and then I find myself giving myself over completely to the kiss. My lips part as his tongue slips inside my mouth. My hands reach out for him, wrapping around his shoulders, kneading them for a moment before sliding down to his chest. As our kisses continue, my hands run up and down his chest, rubbing and massaging, much the way his hands are behaving on my back, my butt, my thighs. At this point any resistance that I had to the idea of this morning rendezvous is gone. In fact, I think at this point, the fire alarm could go off and I wouldn't move from this shower. That's how aroused I've become sharing this first-in-a-very-long-time shower with this incredible man whose arms I'm wrapped up in. That's really not surprising considering that we have been apart for awhile. And the fact that he really knows what he's doing doesn't hurt either. He truly has a talent for turning me to into a swooning, wanton maniac when he's around. Especially when we happen to be wet and naked and his hands are finding their way to all my most sensitive flesh.
And judging by the insistent throbbing against my stomach, I must have the same effect on him. The evidence of his arousal is trapped between our bodies, but as my hands slide ever closer, I feel his hands wrap around my wrists and pulling my hands away from his body and pushing them against the wall of the shower. Uh-oh, pinned again. Our kisses take on a deeper urgency, our moans filling the steamy space. My eyes are closed again and I'm lost in the heat of this desire. In the smell of him. In the feel of our bodies so close together. And then his hands slide down my arms, down the side of my body, and wrap around my waist. My unpinned arms fall onto his shoulders once again, wrapping lightly around his neck, idly playing with the soft brown locks of his hair.
"God I've missed this." I say. Because it may only be at this very moment that I've realized just how much I have missed it.
"What? You didn't do this while I was gone?" He says between noisy kisses to my neck.
"No!"
"Really?"
"Of course not."
"Huh. No showers for two weeks. Wow." His hands are simultaneously trailing slowly and sensually up and down my sides. The inside of his finger tips on the way up, the outside on the way down, in a steady with rhythm with his warm flesh just managing to lightly brush the sides of my breasts. Somehow I manage to speak anyway.
"Very funny. But I certainly didn't have any showers like this." I manage to squeak out as his mouth finds the hollow at the base of my throat. "I don't ever wanna be apart again."
"Ah, but the reunion is so much fun."
"Sure this time. But if we manage to accomplish what we are supposedly trying to accomplish here …"
"A baby," he supplies.
"Exactly … if that happens, you can just kiss this kind of 'I've missed you so much, I have to have you right now' reunion sex good-bye. No more up-all-night sex. No more kitchen sex. No more shower sex. Probably no more sex at all with a baby in the house."
"Now Abby, that can't possibly be true. Otherwise, no one would ever be able to have a second one." He points out as reach up to kiss his shoulder, his neck. Finally settling on one particular spot and sucking deeply. Yeah, that's gonna leave a mark.
"Maybe you're right. But still, it won't be the same." I say, as I notice that this talk about babies has inspired him to slip his hands between our bodies and gently rub my belly. Maybe he thinks it's like a magic lantern -- rub it enough and a baby will appear.
"All the more reason to enjoy this now."
His strong hands and long fingers wrap back around my waist as he lifts me up. My arms wrap tightly around his neck, my legs wrap around his back. One of his hands on the wall of the shower next to me, keeping our balance, the other cradling my butt, his long fingers somehow supporting my weight. He kisses my lips once again. And then he's inside me. And I'm complete. We set a slow and steady rhythm, our bodies moving together fluidly and effortlessly. This is a dance we know well. But it's so much more now. After having been apart, it's about rediscovery. And after having decided to try and create a new life together, it's about something so much greater than just the two of us. Just like last night, this union feels likes something bigger than just our passion for each other. We cling to each other, stroking ,caressing, possessing one another. He moves gently in and out of me, creating wave after wave of pleasure, but what makes me happiest is the knowledge that in this most primitive of acts, we could be about to become part of the very best of everyday miracles.
"I love you." I whisper into his ear as I pull his head close to my own. I feel completely surrounded by him. And completely overwhelmed by this notion of 'us.' The atmosphere is so charged with our heat, our scent … it's almost like our love is something tangible that I could reach out and touch. And then I realize that soon it may be just that, in the form of a baby that's grown out of that love and that is most literally, us. The thought of 'us' becoming a trio is so overwhelming, that the thought makes me dizzy. Then again, maybe the dizziness comes from the fact that every move, every touch is driving me closer to the edge.
"Love you, too." He mumbles into my neck as he suddenly increases the rhythm. His moans take on a note of desperation. He's getting close and so am I. I pull him closer to me and get lost in him, as he is lost in me. We're lost in each other; we are truly one. And suddenly I'm overtaken by the intensity of these feelings. I give in and let go, feeling a thousand sparks rush through my body as, with a groan, he deposits what I've come to think of as 'my baby juice' deep inside me. Suddenly our movements cease and we just hold on to other, not moving, just trying to catch our breath. For a moment we stay like that … joined together as one, just riding out the incredible waves of feeling … kissing each other's bare skin and reveling in being this close once again. And in some ways, closer than ever before. I feel like I could stay this way forever. But then he steps back while gently lifting me away from him and back down to the ground. Of course my knees feel weak and I'm not sure I can really stand, but he holds on to me tightly for a moment, let me get my footing.
"The water's starting to get cold." He says as he retrieves the forgotten loofa and begins to lather up. "Besides, we wouldn't want to be late for work, would we?"
"Well, you know … now that I think about it … I guess, some things are worth being late for."
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Author's Note: You didn't really think I'd have her pregnant THAT fast did you? Okay, sorry if anyone was disappointed. Hope you enjoyed the toned-down, supposed-to-be-R-rated smut. I know that this chapter did absolutely nothing to advance the 'plot,' but it was just supposed to be fun. Anyway, for those of you who may be wondering, time isn't always going to move this slowly. These have taken place close together, but that will change soon. I mean, my God, I don't have time to write two chapters for every damn day in the life of Carby.