Edges

Part II

By Sweetprincipale

"I'm goin' to hang in the van for a couple," Martin put his duffle down on the couch in the suite he'd been "assigned" and turned to leave.

"What? Wait, no!" Amanda shook her head, dropping her bag with a thud on the floor.

"You wanted time to yourself. I wanna give that to you. Boys have a point about protection an' all, but I'm not gonna be far away."

"But- but that's not fair. This is the nicest place we've been in for - ever. We all deserve time to unwind. Or unwind." Amanda put a little extra pressure on the word, and she saw Martin react to it like someone had physically stroked his shoulder. His head circled, inhaling long and deep.

She wasn't on edge now, not so eager, but it was still there. And even the thrust of her lips on an innocent word sent out a tiny burst of sexual energy that made him want to bite his lip. When had he gotten so weak for her?

"The doors lock. Not that I- I mean, I wouldn't lock you out. I know you wouldn't barge in." It'd be so much better if you were already there.

"Drummer-"

"I trust you. Look, how many times have we been um- well, for lack of a better word, in intimate situations together? Sharing the same bathroom, same tent, same floor?"

"Think this is a little different," Martin was no longer walking to the door. If they'd been a normal family, one with a house per say, they'd share a bathroom. Have their own bedrooms. What went on in them would be private. Maybe thought about, but never discussed.

He didn't want to think about it now. That sweet arousal smell was starting to dismantle his better, nobler defenses. If she was in there, he would be out here, thinking about her, and his own release would come in moments. Wouldn't I be doing the same thing in the van? Just more inconveniently, with less privacy, less safety.

But no. Martin removed his glasses and gave her a hard stare. He didn't want to talk about feelings right now. It might ruin what she wanted, and he didn't want to do that.

Amanda cut off any words that he was about to struggle through. "Don't you want some alone time, too? We're mature adults. We have needs. You help me with a horrible, personal disease that most of the world knows nothing about. You can smell any emotion I have. I think it's silly for us to pretend that um- that we're not in need of relief sometimes."

"You're right. I just didn't think you'd want me around. I can tell- I mean- there's energy you might release, you know. Not that I'd mind."

Amanda blushed. "Wouldn't you know that anyway, even outside? Since I told you?"

"True."

"Makes sense to stay in here and at least be comfortable. We can both lock our doors for privacy sake. There's a half bath in the big bedroom and there's the shower, so we won't have to disturb each other. Once we're done showering, that is. There's only one shower so we have to split that up, but-."

"You first," Martin said instantly, always chivalrous when his Drummer was concerned.

"No, you," Amanda blurted.

"I am covered in grime, Drummer Girl, even worse than you, so I-"

"I was going to… you know. Take that edge off? In the shower," Amanda tried to say evenly, ignoring the heat in her cheeks. It's Martin. I can tell Martin anything. I have to. He's my best friend. I love him.

I really do.

Martin couldn't move. He couldn't walk out the door. If he moved, it would be very obvious that her words had painted a picture in his mind that he shouldn't have.

"I'm going to the van in a minute," Martin growled suddenly. Can't be here, close to her, thinking about her.

"Oh. Okay." Amanda finally gave up with a small voice. She waited for him to go. But he didn't move. "Or I could go. Sh-should I leave instead?"

"Hell, Drummer," Martin reached for his duffle with a wince and put it at waist height to cover the evidence. "I'm goin'."

"Why don't you stay, Martin?" Amanda moved toward him suddenly, face earnest, hand outstretched. "No, I'm serious. We could help each other. We could be together. As friends, you know?"

Why would she offer that? As friends? Shit, no. Drummer deserves something better. She feels sorry for the freak- but no, that ain't it. She doesn't give off an air of pity. She gives off - honesty. Sweetness. Caring. She means it.

"No, Amanda," Martin moved away, thinking that distance between them was the best remedy for the urges he felt. Even the sweetest friend, offering him comfort and pleasure, with all sincerity and the goodness that was in her- didn't understand what floodgates it would open. He'd want her all the time. Always. Like he already had started wanting her.

With every inch he moved, the feeling of pain came at him faster and harder. Amanda was moving away, but the waves radiating off her were like heat-seeking missiles. Energy was nebulous, but this pain was tangible.

Hurt because I told her no. If you don't care for someone much, you don't hurt if they reject you. Can't do something like that with just a friend. "'Manda, I'd never say no to hurt you," Martin looked back at her, seeing her retreat inside herself, dark eyes dimming, fair skin paling further. Even under the tough girl exterior, probably the most powerful being he'd ever seen- she had a softness. He loved that. Like him. Like the Rowdies. They were hard on the outside, as life warranted, but with the ones they trusted, the ones they loved, they were all about the soft things, friendship, family, loyalty, caring. Love, even.

He'd broken her smile. He hated that as much as anything he'd ever done. "Just as friends is a damn fine offer. I wanna say yes more than you can imagine. But I know I can't do that just as a friend, 'cause I'd want more, and that'd ruin things between us, between all of us. Not 'cause of you offering. Because I'm afraid I couldn't be content with that."

That single harsh "no" had been a bullet in the heart. Pain and sadness pooled out. It took awhile for his words to penetrate the pulsing shame and ache. He doesn't want me. Thinks I'm a slut. Desperate. Horny. Using him. He doesn't think of me in that way, as a partner, a lover.

Then why did he just say he'd want to be more than friends? Martin doesn't lie. He wouldn't be making excuses.

"What if both the friends wanted to be more than friends? Is the answer still no?" Amanda asked, head down, wet eyes slowly brightening.

Martin shook his head as if to clear it. "Is it just because she thinks they're stuck with each other?"

"I'll punch you in a minute!" Amanda burst out with a laugh and actually did slug at his shoulder playfully. "You're the only one I- you're the only one I want," her voice dropped away. "I don't know why you'd want someone as messed up as me."

Realization was washing over him, heart feeling like it had gone from crushed concrete to something slowly blooming. What is she saying? "I knew you were special the second I saw your picture. Not messed up. Gifted. Powerful. I love that about you."

"I love that about you, too. The power. The way you smash and destroy and build back up, heal everything. Make everything better. Made me better. My life better. Dude, I've never been so happy in my life."

"Me either," Martin confessed. They sat on the couch in the suite, shoulder to shoulder now, knee to knee. Emotions were evening out. "You make me relax. I'm not used to that."

"Hey. Same here. You know, I think you're why any kind of 'urges' came back. I used to get from minute to minute, hoping I wouldn't crack, wouldn't hurt, wouldn't die. There wasn't time for anything else in life. Now I have a purpose. I have a spot in the universe. I feel safe- especially around you," she leaned against him.

Slowly, his head rested against hers. He exhaled, soaking in her warmth, which slowly turned to heat over the next few minutes. "You can change your mind," he murmured.

"You can, too."

"Not going to."

Silence, shoulders and knees shifting, his hand taking hers as they rested between the two on the couch. "I oughta get cleaned up," Martin brushed his lips to her hair.

"Me, too. I'm grimey."

"You're beautiful, even a little bit dirty." The double meaning of his words made him pause awkwardly. "Sorry. Not like that."

"I don't know," Amanda's fingers picked at the ragged spots in her jeans. "It's been a long time. I don't know what I like. Besides being with you. Wanting to be with you. I know that I like that."

"We can go slow. Find out things," Martin hesitated before placing one strong hand on the back of her neck and letting it move down her spine.

"I like your hands. Probably way too much," Amanda laughed softly.

"How 'bout that?" He rubbed in slow circles, working back up, feeling her shiver, and that hint of want start to increase.

"Mmmm," Amanda arched forward, her ribbed blue shirt riding up to show the narrow curve of her waist before it spread to the bell of her hips. "Think I'd like to get that shower now."

"'Course," Martin rose when she did, watching her walk off.

She turned after a few steps. "Aren't you coming?"

Me and Drummer. Wet and naked. "You sure?"

"What was it you said? Hands, mouth, heart, mind?"

"Yeah, that was it."

"Sounds like a good place to start, for both of us."

The rumble came out of his chest, the fire up in his eyes. Drummer's hands. Mouth. Don't rush. Go slow.

He was failing at going slow. His body was channeling a long time of pent energy toward the idea of being connected with her, sharing her energy. Sharing her heart, her body. He crossed the room after her, and caught her against the bathroom door, hands grabbing hers and pushing them back.

The jolt from her, the little gasp was like the brakes on a racecar. The engine cut abruptly. Too rough. Too fast. Martin shook his head as he began to explain, that it wasn't going to be some rushed act, that he'd just felt a surge of desire and happiness at the thought of what they'd share. That he could control it.

She didn't want it controlled to the point where he wasn't Martin. Her Martin came on strong, in battle, in to help, into her arms. Her gasp of surprise changed into a little noise of pleasure. Martin could take control. So could she. It was equal, powerful in different ways. When he seized her hands, she seized his mouth.

He had to let go of her hands so his could find their place in her hair, on her cheeks. Thumbs and fingers covered in hard metal rings made soft patterns on her neck as she half climbed him and he got the message.

Pick me up. Amanda felt herself pulled up and she locked her legs around his waist, looking down at him and kissing him, hands ruffling his mohawk and scooting up his glasses.

She could feel how hard he was. Could he feel how hot and wet she'd gotten in the space of one kiss, one clawing, hungry kiss? So much for going slow.

"No, we will go slow," Martin couldn't read her mind, but he could read her body. "I want to give what I promised."

Mouth. Hands. Amanda let out a mewling sound that she didn't even know she could make. Her hands moved down his chest as he carefully lowered her legs. Her hands found his belt, his jeans, the bulge inside. Big. It had been years for her. Maybe the mouth and hands would be a good idea, to get things ready.

"You sure you want me to join you in there?" Martin watched her hand leave his side and fumble with the knob of the bathroom door. "I'm a mess."

"Me, too," Amanda laughed softly. Smoke stained, oil stained, road dust… marks of their life. Their life together. I love this man. I should tell him. But what if that scares him off?

That's stupid. It's Martin. The man who literally said, "We got no place to be but here for you." "Martin?"

"Drummer?" Stabs of fear and pleasure, happiness and lust were popping out at him, exchanging faster than he could keep track of.

"Do you- did you already know that I love you? Like this?" Amanda kissed him again, softer this time.

Loves me. His heart throbbed in a rush of pure bliss, incredulous bliss. Martin shook his head wonderingly. "No. Wouldn't let myself think I could get that lucky."

"Well, you are." Amanda paused. He didn't say it back. But Martin wasn't very verbose most of the time. Didn't mean that he -

"Afraid if I say it back… I'll wake up," Martin's voice was more of a breath than words wrapped in sound. "In Blackwing, I used to dream I got out, an' we were all together. I would tell you. Then I'd wake up."

"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. You never have to say it if that's not who you are, I just wanted you to know that I-"

"I love you, Drummer. I like wakin' up now, gettin' to see you every day. Never apart again."

Another kiss, starting sweet and soft, with edges of tears, that developed into something hot and urgent. He kicked the door open, letting her tug him in.