TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN
(The End of the Case and the Beginning of Renewed Love)
Farron and Kara
Farron and Kara entered his apartment. She had insisted that they go to the hospital to have treatment for his leg wound. He thought that she needed to see someone herself. However, she insisted that she was fine. Of course, Farron could walk unassisted, but she also insisted to help him inside his apartment. Like a mother hen, she made him sit down on the couch while she retrieved ice to ease the swelling. He again found himself protesting, his leg wasn't swelled that badly. He couldn't argue with her, not really. It felt nice having someone around who actually cared for him. He wasn't accustomed to that, and it literally blew his mind. Farron, grinning, watched as Kara went into his kitchen and began rattling around. If she would let him get up, he would go in and help her. If he moved a muscle, she scolded him as if he were a wayward child. Any other man might find that annoying, but he found it heart achingly endearing. She came back a few moments later and sat beside him with the bowl of ice in her hand. He watched with interest as she removed the sterile dressing to examine his leg wound. When she touched it, he drew in a hissed breath. It didn't hurt, necessarily, but it shocked him all the same. She was bent studiously over his leg, examining the injury, noting [as he had] that it wasn't so bad. His hand fell on the back of her head and he began to caress her hair. She rose up at his touch and gazed up at him thoughtfully.
They had yet to make love again after the first time, and she had been aching for him every night, having wild, erotic dreams about him. She wanted to share those dreams with him, but felt embarrassed and ashamed to admit her own desires. However, he was teaching her, and teaching her well. Unable to hold back a moment longer, she leaned toward him and covered his mouth with hers. The moment her tongue entered his mouth, he took immediate control of the kiss, plunging both hands into her hair, mussing it, tangling it. She was trying her best to be careful where she placed her body for fear of causing him further injury, but he seemed not to care at all. He pulled her body over to him, so that she was straddling him. The weight of her body against his drove him over his 'control' edge. He wasn't sure if he could deny her again, not after tonight, not after what they had gone through together. His hands slid from her hair down to her back, and the instant he touched her, she strained closer against him. A low moan escaped her and she drew away from his demanding, possessive lips.
"I want you," she whispered. "If you don't make love to me, I just might rape you."
His lips found her throat where his teeth began nibbling and biting none too gently. Of course, it felt wildly erotic to her. "Shel," he moaned against her throat. "There is no need to force me to do anything. I want you just as much, more," he said as he guided her hand between his legs. "Feel that?"
"Yes," she sighed. Her hand moved over him, with little experience, but enough urgency to make up for it. "Don't deny me tonight, don't send me away," she whimpered.
He slowly removed her hand. What he had he wanted to save. "I'm not sending you anywhere. I only want to make sure that this is what you want."
"Farron," she moaned, "don't tease me. It's what I wanted the moment I first saw you."
It was all he needed to hear. He would not deny her any desire, ever. Gently, he guided her body away from his so that he could stand. His back turned to her for a brief moment, he grabbed the bowl of ice and grinned wickedly. "We might need this a little later."
Was he kidding? She could use some now. Every muscle, every piece of flesh, everything inside her was on fire, but it would take more than a bowl of ice to extinguish it. He presented his hand to her and she took it. Slowly, painfully, he led her to his bedroom. This was her first time inside it, and she stunned by the entire wall of mirrors. She wasn't sure if he were vain, or if his apartment had simply come that way. It didn't matter, nothing did. He released her hand and she stood before him silently. She wanted to rip everything off and then work on him, but he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Every few seconds, she glanced up at their reflections in the mirrors, and she had an idea what he intended to do. She shivered in anticipation while a deep ache began to build, settling between her thighs. She didn't know if she had enough patience to wait this out.
As Farron's insistent lips caressed the side of her throat, his hands came up and began unbuttoning her blouse. "Don't move, don't assist, look up in the mirrors and watch me touch you," he whispered into her ear.
She followed his instructions and watched as his deft fingers released every button until the blouse was totally open. He stepped back just long enough to slide the blouse down her arms. He worked on her bra next, taking forever, rolling it off her at a snail's pace. Did he realize what he was doing to her? Did he? She tried to turn toward him, but he wouldn't allow it. He turned her back around to face the mirrors as his hands finally cupped her breasts. Her nipples hardened before he had the chance to touch them at all. When his thumbs began brushing against them, her eyes closed tightly and her head lolled back just the tiniest bit.
"Shel, open your eyes, I want you to see me, to see us."
Although difficult, she couldn't resist his commands, couldn't resist him at all. Once again, she gazed up into the mirrors as his experienced fingers ran repeatedly over her nipples, tweaking them, making them almost beg for his lips. She groaned a frustrated protest as his hands moved away to slide down toward the zipper of her skirt. Like the devilish man he was, he drew the zipper down almost as slowly as he had discarded her bra. She didn't tear her eyes away from the mirror and she watched him work his large, pleasure giving hands inside the skirt, drawing it down in one swift, hard yank that made her cry out in lusty surprise. His body moved back up hers slowly, his hands following the same direction upward. Teasingly, torturously, he slipped his hands just inside her panties at the side. By then, she was moaning, insane with desire. Yet, she couldn't speak, couldn't vocalize. She kept her eyes on the mirrors.
Farron allowed one hand to remain on her side as the other slipped out of her panties. Suddenly, unexpectedly, his hand snaked down to the front of her, and she watched in astonishment as it slipped from her lower abdomen down. His hand didn't move any lower, not immediately, and she didn't know if she should scream, cry, or do both. When she least expected it, his hand slipped down between her legs, and he began an intensely wicked caress outside her panties. By then, she was quaking against him, begging him to stop. He didn't listen. He whispered commands to her, asking that she focus on the mirrors, on what she was watching. Oh, what a wicked wicked man. She was moaning now, groaning, on the verge of an explosive orgasm when his hand stopped completely.
"Farron," she whispered harshly, disappointed.
"Shh," his hissing breath blew over her naked flesh, and dozens upon dozens of chill bumps attacked her, creeping over every body part, even inside. "Shel, watch, don't speak," he said again.
His hands slipped into her panties again, and with the same kind of swift movement, they were gone. She almost hadn't been aware at all. He pressed his body against her naked buttocks, and she could feel his hardness. Oh how she wanted him, wanted him any way, in every position known to man. His hands slid down between her thighs again, and both of them worked together this time. Like some type of perverted voyeur, she watched him touching her, as he had commanded a dozen times. Her whimpering came back into the game, and she thought she might cry. His fingers brushed against the outside of her sex, never quite making contact with the aching moist skin inside, not just yet. His hands moved away and another groan expelled from the depths of her throat. He stood almost against her as he slowly began to shed his clothes. Oh, no fair. She couldn't see him through the mirror; her body obstructed the magnificent view.
It didn't take Farron long to discard his clothing. He moved in closer behind her and she felt him skin on skin. Oh how tempted she was to reach around and grasp him, forcing him inside her so that she could end the torment he had created. He turned her toward him and kissed her deeply, running his tongue along her teeth, touching hers, and exploring her mouth passionately. She felt his body pushing hers toward the bed. It's about damn time, she thought. During the kiss, she drew her legs up around his waist and he supported the weight of her body just long enough to place her down onto the bed. Instead of coming with her, he drew back. She watched [somewhat frustrated] as he moved away. Curiously, she saw him pick up the small bowl of ice. When he turned toward her with the bowl in his large paw, she couldn't tear her eyes away from his enormous erection. How did I ever accommodate that, she wondered as her tongue snaked out to wet her lips. Dear God, it was a miracle that she hadn't split in two.
Farron came toward her, kneeling over her body and took a cube out of the bowl. Against the heat of his hands, the ice began to melt almost immediately, and he drew lazy circles around her nipples. The shock of the cold and the desire coursing through her made her gasp aloud. He sucked at her nipples, sipping the water droplets as if they were fine, fine wine. She cried out and arched her back a bit. He repeated the same trick on her other nipple. She was at the point of orgasm; it wouldn't take much else to send her over. With the ice, he made a trail down between her breasts, to her abdomen, and sucked up every droplet of water. Shaking and crying now, he slipped the ice cube lower. The moment he touched her leg, she opened her thighs for him. She cried out [oh dear fucking God] as the ice cube touched her inside. She wanted his mouth down there, sucking up the droplets as he had done on her body, but he had other plans. He popped the piece of ice into his mouth and crunched it up ruthlessly, as his lips made a trail back up. His lips found her hardened nipples once again, and for the first time that night, she noticed that his hair was tied back. When did that happen? Oh yes, at the hospital. She couldn't have that. Her hand reached down to the back of his head, and she pulled impatiently at the band holding his hair back into its loose ponytail. When it was freed of its confines, it flowed over his shoulders, touching her breasts, brushing against her nipples.
"Oh dear fucking God," she cried again as a massive orgasm ripped through her. When would the torture, the teasing, be over? When would he fill her? When when when when?
His lips found hers again and she plunged her hands into his glorious locks. After a long, breathless kiss, he broke away just for a moment. Her tongue snaked out over her lips again as she watched him retrieve a condom. She turned her head away as her face flushed heatedly. Oh my shit, the size of that damn condom. He came for her again and rolled her body neatly beneath his. His hips came down between her parted thighs, and her legs went instinctively around his waist. He sank into her, once again relishing the tight pull of her flesh as it drew him into her deeply, gripping him tremendously. She grabbed double hands full of his buttocks and began helping him push into her even deeper. He filled her completely, sinking so deeply that his abdomen was touching hers. He rocked her gently, in and out, through the intimate dance of lovers, and she found herself matching him thrust by every delicious thrust. As much as his brother, Farron had the control factor working on his side, he held out greedily, giving and taking equally, but not quite giving over. She was so tight, so wonderfully tight, that he couldn't maintain his control. He realized then that he didn't have control. She possessed his mind and body just as solidly as he possessed hers.
Kara released her grip on one of his buttocks only to give it a loud, hardy smack. The sharp thwacking noise startled him for a moment, broke the control he had just a little. He gazed down into her impassioned face, noting that her head was tossing wildly from side-to-side, and she smacked his ass again. He had been into some kinky shit before, but never the slapping thing. Oddly, it was turning him on. He wasn't an idiot, he knew as she came, she was smacking him, conveying what a 'good boy' he was for bringing her such pleasure.
A groan escaped him as he felt his own climax nearing. She had done something to him, had messed him up, but he wasn't altogether disturbed by that. "Ah, Shel," he moaned. "Oh, my Shel."
She smacked his ass again, digging her nails in for good measure, whimpering, pleading almost, and did something totally unexpected. Even though she wasn't as experienced as most of his partners, she began thrusting her hips against him, as if she'd been his lover for years. She seemed to have learned his body, memorized it almost. He closed his eyes and let go with his own cry. He had never cried out in his life, but with her, he could not resist. As his body worked through his orgasm, he rammed in her once, twice, three times, giving her a match per match orgasm with each savage thrust.
"Shel, oh my Shel, what have you done to me," he whispered before collapsing on top of her.
* * *
Frank and LoraleiIt was nearly eleven in the morning when Donovan and Loralei entered the house. He wanted to get Loralei settled in a little before he picked up the baby. The hospital had kept her overnight for observation, but there were no injuries, no damage. He wanted her to go bed immediately. She hadn't slept much last night, and she had to be exhausted. He followed her upstairs and watched like a patrolling sergeant as she tossed her dirty clothing into the hamper. When she turned toward her husband, she stared at him comically.
"Frank, would you stop? I'm fine, the baby is fine, and you don't need to stand over me."
He approached her and drew her into his embrace. "I can't stop thinking that you could have gotten killed tonight. What you did was brave, baby, but goddamn, I was scared shitless."
"You weren't the only one, Mister." She drew away for a moment. "I'm not changing the subject, but I think I owe you an apology."
Cocking his eyebrow, he gazed at her curiously. "An apology? For what?"
"For thinking you would cheat on me." She sighed, feeling the onset of hormone driven tears. "Fuck it. This hormone shit is the only thing I hate about being pregnant. I love you, Frank, and I can't believe I mistrusted you so."
"Hey," he whispered, quieting her with a soft kiss. "I think we need to work on our communication just a bit," he said with a smile.
"I think you're right. Marriage counseling?"
He laughed and shook his head. "I don't think it's to that point, LD. I suppose we both still have a lot to learn about each other, and a lot to discover. I don't ever want to lose that ability I have to read you, to know you. I hope you feel the same. As I told you before, I've never had anything like what we have, not with anyone. When I told you that, I meant every word. Regardless of who I've known, slept with, dated, or whatever, there's just no one else for me but you. I can understand how you would feel threatened by that bitch, just as I would feel threatened by someone from your past. I don't want to lose touch, and this was the second time for us."
She nodded. "I know, and it was equally scary, but my insecurity played a role, I'm sure. I go nuts when I'm pregnant, paranoid. I just hate it that I doubted you after what we've gone through together."
He kissed her again and drew her against him once more. "Baby, stop apologizing. What's written can be erased. The past is the past. Every now and then, some ghost, some evil entity will show up, and it might play hell with us both, but nothing…nothing will ever stop me from loving you, Rachel, and-" His hand drifted down to her abdomen. "The twins," he said with a mischievous smirk.
"Nope," she said, shaking her head. "No twins in here. They're going to skip you and hit your brother."
"And speaking of my brother. I can safely assume he worked things out with Kara?"
She nodded. "Yup, I should say so. Watching them grosses me out, though. They're so…mushy."
"We're not?"
She shrugged. "Maybe a little. I guess I did manage to match someone up, huh?"
He shook his head and smiled. "You've found your new career, Mrs. Donovan." He kissed her forehead before moving back. "Take a nap. I need to retrieve the kid before she thinks we abandoned her."
She took hold of his hand. "Wait a second."
Donovan stopped and turned toward her. "What is it, LD?"
"Can I have five minutes of your time," she asked solemnly.
"Okay," he said. "What is it?"
She couldn't help but smile at his serious expression. He was such a worrier. She had never known a man who worried as much as he. "Make love to me."
"For five minutes," he asked with a laugh.
She stepped easily into his arms and nuzzled his throat. "Or ten or fifteen or twenty or…"
* * *
Such intense beginnings lead to equally intense endings. Love for love. Life for life.
Finis