October 1994
Rating: R
The late afternoon sun turned the room a golden orange, a few scattershot rays managing to find their way through the windows that were poorly angled for allowing entry. Small flecks of dust were caught in the light and glimmered like infinitesimally small pieces of glitter hovering in the air. The drowsy murmur of the busy city streets below nothing but a quite hum in the background, the soft groans coming from the bed markedly louder in comparison.
"Damn, kitten, could you be more tense?" Darien complained good-naturedly as he dug the ball of his thumb firmly into the arch of 'Chele's right foot. "I mean, shit, if sex ain't enough to get you to relax I don't know if you can be saved."
'Chele levered herself up onto her elbows and glared at the man lying on his side at the head of her bed and casually abusing her foot with just the right amount of pain to feel good. "Releasing sexual tension and easing stress are two completely different things, bub. 'Sides we spend so much time building the tension prior to release that we're damn lucky we're ever sated," she snarked right back at him, deciding that she kind of liked his newest pet name for her.
"Ouch," Darien sniped. "Did you leave a mark? Am I mortally wounded?"
She planted her left foot on his chest and shoved, knocking him onto his back with a hastily stifled snicker. Damn, she had missed him. Eight months was far, far too long to not be near him, to see that shy smile or look into those sweet brown eyes of his, even with the shadow currently hanging over his heart. "You silly git," she said with a grin.
He grabbed at the wayward appendage as it tried to advance lower, stopping it before it could even attempt to move the section of sheet draped casually across his waist. "Git? You've been watching the BBC again, haven't you."
'Chele squealed, her foot twitching as he ran a finger down the insole. "The BBC and Dr. Who are mandatory for us geeks, dontcha know." She managed to not jerk her leg away and was rewarded with his hands sliding up her calf to knead the muscles there. He'd been very tactile all afternoon, reaffirming not only his connection with her, but with life in general, trying to convince himself this was real, that he could indeed get beyond what had happened to him in prison ... eventually. Sighing, she lay back down and stretched her arms over her head, hands hanging off the end of the bed and back arching, vertebrae popping softly.
"How's the head?" Darien asked softly as she relaxed back into the welcoming softness of the mattress.
"Not bad," she answered, hoping he wasn't about to start up with the questions again, that would certainly kill the quiet mood they had achieved. There was only so much she could do about the pain these days, that last round of playing lab rat with herself had left her with chronic headaches that would often explode into full-blown misery at the drop of a hat. The migraine she'd earned today had been more than worth it to give Darien some small amount of comfort. Of course, it had black-lashed into a worry session by him, but at least that allowed his mind to concentrate on something beyond his fears, which in turn eased the responding reaction she had. "Why? You planning on bouncing bricks off it or something?"
"Nah, you'd like that," he countered, rolling back onto his side and trailing his hand all the way up to her thigh. "Who was your newest conquest? Another blue-eyed blond, or did you go for the dark-haired roguish look this time?"
"Golden blonde and green-eyed, I'll have you know." 'Chele shifted her legs, parting them as he continued his slow exploration of her.
"Lucky guy," Darien stated softly.
She could feel the envy rolling off him, his usual contradictory attitude about her and her relationships swirling through his mind making her want to shake her head in dismay. "And when did I ever say my relationship was with a male?"
Darien's hand froze and 'Chele wished she had a camera on hand to capture the look of total disconcertment on his face. Her statement had certainly knocked his train of thought right off track. She just lay there as boneless as possible while he tried to wrap his mind about her words.
"You... you're bi?" he asked, sounding completely confused.
"No," 'Chele answered, curling onto her side to rub her face against his leg.
Darien grumbled something she didn't catch, his hand moving away from her leg to run through his hair. "Well, I'm pretty damn sure you're not gay." He finally managed aloud. "Was it just convenience or something?"
"What? You afraid I'm gonna start playing for the other team? Competing with you for the femme fatales that abound 'round here?" She forced herself to swallow the snigger that bubbled up; she could see the emotions flickering across his face with lightning speed as well his utter inability to put what he was feeling into words. "Darien, for me attraction isn't necessarily based on gender. I'm attracted to a person not the built-in equipment. Have I been attracted to women before? Yes. Will I be again? Probably." She shifted to sit up, dragging the sheet with her as a cover. "This was the first time the attraction has been mutual is all."
Darien seemed to slowly absorb this information, adjusting his mindset to the new data and adding it to his mental image of her.
"You okay, D?"
He sat up, drawing his legs in to sit cross-legged, the sheet pooling across his thighs and keeping that most masculine part of him hidden from view. "This is kinda left field for me, ya know."
"Hey, kinda surprised me too." 'Chele shrugged her shoulders, meeting his eyes for an instant before looking away. She knew this was a bit of a shock for him, he who thought knew her so very well, but she hadn't expected him to pull away from her. She resisted the temptation to touch him, to read him beyond the obvious discomfort written in every line of his body.
"Damn," he finally muttered, shifting as if in an attempt to find a more comfortable position.
Glancing down, Michele couldn't help but notice that a particular portion of his anatomy was reacting far differently than the rest of him to the knowledge that she'd had a sexual relationship with a woman. Stretching out a leg she set her foot in his lap and ran her toes lightly up and down his erection. "Something come up, dear one?"
He grabbed her toes, holding them still and swallowed with some difficulty. "You could say that."
"Why is it guys get turned on by the thought of seeing two women together? Is it a double the boobs double the pleasure type of thing, or what?" Somehow she kept a straight face while she spoke.
Darien groaned audibly and pressed her foot against his hard-on and thrust slowly. "If I knew I'd tell ya."
'Chele laughed, relieved he wasn't upset or disgusted with her. "So you're okay with it?"
"Now that my initial surprise is over, yeah." He released her foot, but didn't move it away and she returned to her gentle play with her toes, the sheet already becoming noticeably damp. "So spill. Name, where you met, everything."
'Chele grinned evilly. "Everything?" As she watched Darien's eyes darkened and he nodded tightly. "You are such a male sometimes," she commented with a smile.
"I am always male," he countered, relaxing back into the pillows, patiently waiting for her to begin.
"Her name is Tamara, and you wouldn't hesitate to hit on her yourself. 5' 6", slender, skin the color of cafe au lait. Gorgeous green eyes and that golden hair I mentioned before. Smart as a whip, too." 'Chele's voice softened as she remembered the woman. "We got stuck working together for about five months. First time I saw her..." She paused shaking her head. "We just clicked, but it took us two weeks to figure out it was mutual. Me going home at night horny as hell and trying to figure out how I was supposed to work with her when all I wanted to do was kiss her."
"Had it bad did you?" Darien asked softly.
"Oh yeah. Bad as I did that first summer with you." 'Chele noted his pleased response to that statement. "Course I never got over you."
"Once you've had the best..." Darien bragged with a broad grin, and, in truth, she couldn't argue with him. She'd fall back into his arms for as long as he would let her, but she also couldn't let him get away with the comment unscathed.
"Best male, maybe," she quipped.
"'Chele," he laughed, his eyes twinkling in merriment. "She make you happy?"
"Very, but we both knew she was only a temp on the project. So we had fun and enjoyed it while it lasted. I see her around on occasion, she lives here in town." 'Chele smiled slyly. "I could give her a call. Invite her over, if you'd like."
The wave of conflicted emotions that roiled off him was a shock. Part of him outrageously excited at the prospect of having not one, but two willing women to play with, or just watch, warring with a deep-seated possessiveness for her. The fear that he would end up relegated to secondary in her affections if her most recent lover joined them. Underlying all of that was this pitiful sadness, this need to be held and comforted by her and her alone. He wavered and waffled for several long minutes, the emotions chasing each other across his face.
"Michele, if... if you'd rather be with ... her I'll understand," he finally said, his voice only cracking the slightest amount on the words.
'Chele held her tongue for a long moment to prevent herself from blurting out words that she would instantly regret and that she knew he didn't want to hear. "No, Darien, I would not rather be with her." She crawled forward, leaving the sheet behind and sat beside him. "Just offering the opportunity for some fun, is all."
He must have caught the subtle undertone in her voice. "You're just playing with me," he grouched. "Bets this Tamara is actually a Tom."
Sidling away from him 'Chele opened the drawer in the nightstand and fished around for a moment before finding the picture. She looked at it wistfully for a second then handed it to Darien. "See for yourself."
He took the picture from her with some reluctance. "Wow, she is gorgeous. African-American and Asian, maybe?"
"Jamaican and Asian predominantly. Her dad was Jamaican, mom half-Caucasian half-Korean, thus the blonde hair. The green eyes she inherited from her dad." The picture didn't even come close to doing the woman justice in the looks department, being one of those semi-cheesy tourist trap photos they'd been talked into on a dinner cruise they'd taken one long weekend. The rest of the time they had spent in the very bed she and Darien were lying in now, only rarely coming up for air from the pleasurable haze of sensuality that had fallen over them like a soft blanket. "Got the best genes from both sides, in my opinion."
Darien seemed to study the picture with an intensity far beyond what it deserved. "You two look.... right together. Why not continue the relationship?" he asked quietly.
'Chele had to think carefully before answering. "We had our time together, that's what's important. We're both hetero overall, happenstance put us together and gave us the chance to know each other." She knew the explanation wouldn't wash with him, even if it was the truth. She'd had many lovers over the years, some had even been loves to one degree or another, but only one had captured her heart fully and he was the one person she didn't dare to stake her claim on... for his sake.
"But," He waved at the photo. "You're happy here, even I can see that. Why toss it away?"
"Toss it away? Never. We're still friends and have lunch a couple times a month. She's currently dating one drool worthy hunk of male flesh named Justin and is deliriously happy with him." When he failed to respond, 'Chele dug into the drawer again and came up with several dozen more pictures, but these were not of her and Tamara. One was a series of black in white shots taken in one of those cheap photo booths and she pointed to it. "Does that look like someone who is unhappy?"
Darien shook his head. "I remember that day, we were at Belmont Park, what, two years ago?"
"Yes," she responded as he flipped through the other pictures. Most of them of her and Darien and in all of them she was obviously happy. "Looks like Tamara is not the only one who makes me happy."
"Two years ago, maybe," Darien muttered as he continued to flip through the pictures, pausing here and there as a particular one caught his eye and memory. He finally held up one that had only her in the shot because he had been the one wielding the camera at the time. He'd caught her in a moment of quiet contemplation and had called out her name, snapping the pic as she turned to face him. She'd nicknamed the shot her Mona Lisa since she had just this hint of a smile upon her lips. "What were you thinking about in this one?"
"You," she answered, taking the picture from him. "That was the first time you asked me to marry you." She remembered the day vividly; it was all of six months after she'd finally gotten back on the proverbial horse, at least where sex was concerned, and she and Darien had been together pretty much exclusively the entire time. He still had a year of school left and she was busy with her new job, but they had stolen a weekend off from their lives. If she had suspected he was going to pop the question she would have dissuaded him well ahead of time, but she was pretty sure he hadn't planned it and that he had just blurted it out spontaneously.
"First time you told me no as well. Guess you weren't so happy that time." He shoved all the pictures together and set them on the nightstand on his side of the bed, his body radiating his mood shift.
"You'd be wrong then, I was very happy and honored you cared enough about me to ask." Michele sighed; wishing the mood hadn't taken this downturn. The last thing Darien needed right now was a slow slide into depression and unhappiness, not when he needed his ego, his sense of self bolstered and built back up. "Darien, you are one of the most important people in my life. You, just by being you, make my life a wonderful adventure and I thank my parents every day for encouraging me to call you that first time." She took one of his hands in to her own. "I wish I could make you as happy as you deserve, as you make me, but it's plain I can't, that you need more than I am able to provide."
'"Chele, that's not true," Darien interrupted, using his free hand to brush her hair back from her face.
"Sure it is," she countered without rancor. "I'm your fall back girl. I'm always there for you and you know it. I'm the only girl who hasn't walked away from you, who hasn't, to your way of thinking, left you. Going all the way back to your mom." 'Chele looked him in the eye, wishing the need for these truths to be dragged out into the open hadn't happened. He stared at her in shock, the confusion and pain easily visible in his eyes.
"This your way of saying you're gonna leave too?" The hurt in his voice was so deep and so profound that 'Chele ached for him. "Is that what all this is about?" He waved his hand about to encompass the apartment and all they had done within its environs. "One last romp before moving on and out of my life."
"No," she stated emphatically. "Never. And you know that. Ah, D, doesn't the fact that I'm here mean anything?"
"Of course it does," he responded hoarsely.
"Then stop futzing about trivialities." 'Chele punched him lightly on the shoulder, as a young girl on a playground would to a boy she liked.
Darien eyed her, but caught that she was trying to lighten the mood and returned the punch as was appropriate. "This is where we're supposed to be right now," he stated softly. "That's what you always say, anyway."
She snickered, "That's my lot in life. Always being right is an awesome responsibility, ya know." And on those words the tension broke and Darien laughed full-throated and completely real, and, for the first time since she'd picked him up in the dusty parking lot of that bleak prison, he relaxed. He laughed until tears were rolling down his cheeks, 'Chele smiling at him, glad to see him happy ...finally. "That's my Dare," she whispered.