Chapter Seven: Sense and Memory
Olivia
I can't sleep tonight. For once that surprises me. Ever since you called my trouble sleeping has eased a bit. For three weeks I've rocked myself to sleep with the idea of you; with the thought of you coming back to me. My dreams aren't troubled anymore… not as much anyway. And suddenly they're filled with your face, your live, smiling face. With your call, you came to life in my dreams. Every once in awhile my regret finds me still and I see myself choking on your scarf, I feel Hammond behind me, Elliot beside me. Every once in awhile I still see your face in the reflection of the blue and reds on that hideous black suv. But mostly I remember the good things. The times after I quit drinking. The times after we won cases. The times we managed to wrangle off-time together. Lazy Saturdays at your loft… sultry Saturday nights at my apartment. The scent of you, heavy with sleep in my bed on a Sunday morning.
Mostly my dreams are filled with firsts. Our fist kiss, the real one—not the one from before our fight, but our real kiss. Our first real date, the one we actually called a date, and not just 'dinner.' My favorite dreams though are of that first time. That first night in your apartment you were so cute, watching me cook. We talked about work, but only at first. Then you started talking about your life, about your mom. You talked about growing up in that huge house, feeling alone surrounded by servants and butlers. You talked about the social obligations of being a Cabot. You made fun of your mother, of her propriety. You joked about your "wild streak," teenaged wantonness. I liked the sound of that, but knew your idea of wantonness was probably very different from my own.
And then, after dinner—your gift. I went through four Shakespeare books before I found that stupid poem. I memorized it so I could put the actions in the right places. I know it looked silly, but I was counting on my charm… the charm you're always telling me I possess, to sell it.
In the last two lines.. the only really serious lines of the whole stupid thing…
And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare,
As any she belied with false compare."
I end up, kneeling at your feet as you sit at the end of your bed. I kiss your hand, and look up at you from the floor. I can see in your eyes I won you over… finally. I hold onto that gaze a moment longer and then slowly rise from my knees and kiss you. I lean my weight into your lips and push you back, until we're lying there together, the contours of your body cushioning mine, our height difference making the meeting of our respective dips and curves match perfectly. I can't believe how perfectly you fit beneath me. As if our bodies were made to be together, two halves that fit seamlessly. And then of course I almost laugh at how silly I sound, like some love struck teenager. But I'm pulled back to the moment by the soft pressure of your tongue, resting at my lips, waiting. I open my mouth to take you in, teasing your tongue with mine, feeling the heat rise from you, feeling your fingers struggle with my buttons, I barely hear them popping off my shirt as you fumble with my belt buckle. I pause our kiss, and lift myself so that I'm kneeling astride your legs. I stroke your cheek with my right hand, and use my left to guide your hand to my belt, helping you unclasp it, then undo the button and zipper in one fell swoop.
I lean in to kiss you again, and our tongues dance in your mouth as I arch my back to keep contact in a kiss while I undo your pants. I don't have the trouble you did, but then again, you had a belt to deal with too… and you are at a disadvantage—position wise.
Without further delay your pants and underwear lay in a lump on the floor, and I pull away from you, pulling off your t-shirt as I break our kiss. My positional advantage doesn't last long, and soon you use your extra few inches of leg to flip me beneath you. You straddle me, pulling my jeans and panties off in one motion, then pulling off my button down shirt, and slowly teasing my t-shirt up my torso and over my head. You pitch them on the floor with the rest of our things and you continue to assert your dominance pulling my upper body up to you with a hungry kiss, and I feel your arms wrapping around me, and suddenly I'm freed of the pressure of my bra. You pull away from my lips and draw the straps down my shoulders, trailing my arm with kisses, creating a line of goosebumps at the warmth of your breath on my skin. You drop my bra on the ground with a giggle, and I can only imagine what you think of the matching underwear that I bought just for you.
But now we're back to my game. I shift, sitting so that you're resting in my lap, your legs on either side of my hips. I copy your motions and remove your white cotton bra, and drop it on the floor, not taking my eyes from your body. You are without question more beautiful than I ever imagined, and I can't believe I'm finally close enough to touch your skin, your lips, feel the flutter of your lashes on my cheek as you kiss my neck, my shoulders. I can smell your shampoo as your hair brushes across my face, tickling my nose, and sweeping over my skin.
I reach for your chin, drawing your face back to mine, watching you lick your lips, your mouth open ever so slightly. I stare at your eyes, a new fire in their crystal blue and I can't believe how much I love you.
Suddenly I can't keep your gaze anymore, I know its because my other hand has found it's target, and I cup your pale breast in my fingers, tracing lazy circles with my thumb around your hardening nipple. Your heat is palpable and I can't stop touching you, holding you, cradling you, drawing you into me in ways I never thought would happen.
I can't believe you're mine.
Alex
I've stopped pacing, halted by the memory of you… of us. Three and a half years later I can still feel you in me… on me. I wanted to stare at you all night, but you broke the silence, the stillness. I felt the warmth of your hand as you cupped my breast, your thumb traced circles as I felt my body respond to you, my nipple hardening, goosing at your touch. The nearness of you, the feel of your dark skin on my light is intoxicating, and I break our eye contact to lean into your mouth again, my hands traveling the length of your body. With one hand I pull you into me, and your hand releases my breast and wraps around my torso, trailing up and down my back. I don't know how I ended up on the bottom again, I've stopped paying attention to our larger movements, feeling only the touch of your fingers on my body, the pressure of your tongue against mine, the flutter of your hair on my forehead. You lean down, covering me again, only this time instead of the rustling of our clothes there's only your softness next to me, pressing down on me, filling my hollows, and I'm hyper-aware, every nerve in my body tingles as your hand moves down, tracing my dips and grooves, your body shifts, and instead of a modified kneel over my body, you alternate our legs, and the sensation of your knee between mine is almost overwhelming, and I wonder if you can sense the wetness you've created in me yet.
Your lips never leave mine except to trail kisses down my chin, my neck, across my shoulders… then back to my mouth, your tongue playing games with mine as I feel your hand trace circles again, this time around my belly button… you tease me with your closeness, until I take my hand and put it on yours, guiding you down, guiding you to my slickness, guiding you to the place where I only want you to be.
Olivia
The memory of you takes me over and I crawl into bed, grabbing "your" pillow to my chest, as I remember trying to tease you, trying to draw out that moment. But in your usual style, you couldn't handle the waiting… and you drew my hand from its path around your navel, and down. The good thing about that is with my hand between your legs, your hand rested between mine.
I started slowly, still wanting to draw this out, torn between wanting to make you come, and wanting to make you beg. I postpone my own joy and place your guiding hand gently at my breast, inviting you to play, to touch me, yes, even to tease me a little. I start at the top, hip level, stroking your downy hair with one finger, down, almost to the edge of you and then back I trace the triangle above your split with one hand, while I start trailing kisses from your mouth down, resting at first your left breast, drawing your nipple into my mouth, raking it lightly with my teeth, enjoying the way your whole body responds. I move to your right breast, tasting around your aureole, as my hand finally finds its target. Your body bucks under me as my thumb finds your clit, my finger tracing your slit for a minute before I slip it, alone, inside you. I work my way down your body with my mouth, trying to stretch out these moments, trying to slow myself down… and failing miserably, because I can't wait to taste you. I can't wait to dip into you and hear you moaning for more, moaning for me.
A second finger joins my first as my breast slips from your grasp. I see you grip the sheets out of the corner of my eye and I turn and lift my head to meet your gaze. My thumb rests on your clit, my fingers enveloped by your warmth. I look in your eyes and see you nod, ever so slightly, my request for permission granted. I'm glad, because I can't wait any longer.
Alex
I've given up on pacing, choosing to change into my nightgown and settle into bed. The memory of you is so strong… I can almost smell your soap. I can almost feel your fingertips on my flesh, I can see your eyes as you look up at me, waiting for my permission before you take that final step. Your touch has left me speechless, and all I can do is grip the sheets and nod, every sense heightened by the warmth of your breath as you approach me.
I try to lie still, to just enjoy the sensation of having you inside me, the sensation of your thumb on my clit, the pressure of your tongue inside me. But I buck beneath your touch. I know this first release will be fast, and I try to hold off, try to focus on the feeling of your hair in the fingers of the hand I've freed from its grip on my sheets. You replace your tongue with your fingers again, thrusting slowly, gently, focusing your mouth on my clit as you increase the speed of your fingers. I can't help pushing in an equal rhythm down against your fingers as they enter me, wanting you deeper, faster, harder. Wanting to feel you all the way inside of me. You stop teasing my clit and take it into your mouth and the stroke of your fingers inside me becomes longer, harder. I can't wait anymore and you take out your fingers, replacing them with your mouth again as you taste my orgasm. I explode against you, my breath knocked from my lungs, and I fight against fading out as I feel the pressure of your tongue, lapping at my seeping wetness. You kiss down my thighs, tracing the path of my orgasm, cleaning my legs with kisses until you finally return to me, return to my lips, my mouth. I can taste myself on you and it's almost enough to push me over the edge again. You play with my tongue and I open my eyes, finding yours open to greet me. I stare at you, getting lost not just in our kiss, but in the deep chocolate recesses of your eyes. I need time to recover. You seem content to let me… content to wait your turn. I'm glad because I want to be able to give you my full attention, unclouded by my own pleasure.