Spencer smiled and gently moved his teacup to tap against hers in a toast. His eyes lit from within with joy and promise, "To dreams coming true."
Trina smiled, "To dreams."
After returning home from her unforgettable evening with Spencer, she wasn't sure she would be going to sleep anytime soon. Her time with Spencer was so incredible and beautiful, passionate and sweet.
He is so very… Very. She thought, unable to pin down the right words to encapsulate everything Spencer was and what he'd come to mean to her. He was so different from her! He was so angry, arrogant, cynical, and cruel. Yet, he was also so tender, funny, and gentlemanly. Emphasis on the 'manly.'
Trina giggled as she changed into her yummy sushi pajamas and pulled on her rainbow tye-dye robe. She slipped her feet into bunny slippers and went to the bathroom, where she brushed her teeth and washed her face.
She looked in the mirror and saw the soft smile at the corners of her lips and the subtle uptilt of her chin. She felt so calm and present and so aware of her body. Her ankle still twinged a little but was much better after Spencer's attentive care. She could still smell the wonderfully luxurious bubble bath they wallowed in as they made passionate love.
Though the singular sensation that was nearly too salacious to admit, even to herself, was the gentle burn between her legs, the welcomed soreness from his body pushing deeply into hers repeatedly.
Color touched her cheeks, and her lips parted with a soft sigh. She marveled at her reflection. She was in love and could see it all over her face. Her gaze lowered as she wondered if her mother, Curtis, or anyone else could see the slight shift in her.
And if they did? What of it?
Trina was suddenly tired and made her way back to her room. She shrugged off her robe and laid it on the back of her desk chair. She sat on the side of her bed, slipped her shoes from her feet before sliding beneath the covers, and turned off the bedside lamp.
She stared at the ceiling, the faint glow of moonlight dampened by the closed curtains.
When she was with Spencer, she felt so sure. His darkness drew her to him and made her want to hold him close and warm him. She was always so grounded, thoughtful, and practical. She was a good person and believed strongly in doing the right thing. When your mother saves lives every day, and your father puts himself in harm's way to protect the innocent, you grow up with a very defined sense of Justice, of Right and Wrong, of respecting people and their boundaries and having compassion for the experiences of others.
She was so proud of her parents and wanted them to be equally, if not more, proud of her.
They weren't going to understand her decision to be with Spencer.
Trina drew in a slow breath and released it. The thought of fighting the people she respected the most over Spencer wasn't pleasant. But ultimately, she was confident that once the people who cared about her saw how happy Spencer made her and how much work he's done to become a better version of himself, his detractors would accept him.
Accept them.
And if they don't? Trina considered the repercussions.
Then they don't.
What does it say about me that I would allow myself to stay by your side after everything that's happened between us?
What it says about me is that I'm stronger than I thought.
I am brave to risk my heart with you because if you're not afraid, you can't be brave, right?
I think it says that I want to believe in you and that we can build something wonderful together. I think it says that because I'm choosing to be with you, I now have control of my own destiny. I get to choose from here on out what happens next for me. I would love it if we could make our choices together, but I'm also assured now that if I truly needed to, I could walk away from you.
I would be heartbroken and miss you fiercely, but I would survive and thrive.
Something is amazing about knowing that. That my love for you makes me stronger and more of who I am. I hope that I can do the same for you. If you ever can work through your issues and become your genuine, compassionate, loving, fantastic self?
You would be unstoppable.
You would be truly great.
You would believe you were enough.
You would KNOW you were enough.
And once you know that?
The world would be yours.
Just like I am.
Yours,
T
Fall Out
Chapter Four
(Themes: Fan Appreciation Week)
When Trina arrived earlier at his doorstep, handed him her letter, kissed his cheek, and fled back on the launch for the mainland, Spencer had been bemused and disoriented. He knew Trina was supposed to be at a gallery event that afternoon, but the fact that she raced across the lake to deliver the letter and run was endearing and alarming.
Though also disappointing because he wanted to tell her something….
He quizzically watched her dash back down the path. Once she was out of view on the launch, he closed the door and examined the envelope in hand. It was business size with only the letter "S '' written on the front in black ink. When he turned it over, a red heart-shaped sticker closed the flap.
Nothing had ever struck more fear into his heart.
What on earth did she want to tell me that she couldn't say in person!?
His heart began to race with fear, and his stomach sank.
He realized he was still holding onto the door handle with a white-knuckled grip. He felt queasy and shaken. He let go of the door, and instead of heading up to his room, the need to know what was going on filled him with an urgency that led him to the parlor, a few steps away.
He had just enough sense to close the double doors to the entryway before he sank into the couch to consider the envelope. The stark white paper with the single letter seemed to grow in proportion to his fear. He both wanted to toss the letter across the room and rip the envelope open to dive into its contents.
Instead, he continued to sit, hands unsteady, his gaze no longer looking at the envelope but through it to a hazy and dark place in his mind where his worst fears hovered along the edges of his consciousness, threatening to overwhelm him completely. His mouth was dry, and he was chilled to the bone. It was almost as if he could hear the oncoming tide of rejection shifting closer to the shore of his ego, where doubt and recrimination would drown and suffocate what small flotsam remained of the good in his life.
Even with the annoyance and anger from his incarceration under the same roof as his father and Ava, the joy that Trina brought to his life made the torturous situation a mere inconvenience. With her intelligence, humor, and honesty, she grounded him just enough to find his bearings and way forward. His work with the Port Charles Soup Kitchen also gave him desperately needed perspective and a growing sense of purpose.
His mind tried to conjure the memory of Trina as a talisman to keep the growing feelings of loneliness and worthlessness away. To keep the 'I told you so' of his inner demons, who liked to revel in his misery and mock him for his failures, at bay. He summoned the sound of Trina's laughter and her warm voice whispering, 'I love you,' in his ear. Her expression was always so fond and understanding of his disbelief when she said so….
So why the letter?
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. If Trina experienced half the agony he was feeling at this moment, he understood much more clearly how not giving the one he wrote to her must have confused and hurt her.
He was always hurting her.
He opened his eyes and lifted his chin; no matter what the letter contained, he would face it head-on. No matter what Trina expressed, he would do as Kevin suggested in therapy and not allow it to make him defensive. At least she was directly communicating with him in the way she felt was the most comfortable. It was nearly refreshing to have someone in his life who didn't withhold or edit information for their advantage. Further, he knew he needed to work very hard not to be selfish and center himself on her narrative. This letter was from Trina, and she wouldn't have written it nor shared it with him if it weren't necessary.
Now that Spencer's mind was set on absorbing the letter with the proper gravity in which it should be considered, he carefully pulled at the heart sticker so as not to tear it and opened the envelope. He pulled out the handwritten pages carefully as if they were precious vellum instead of the mundane lined notebook paper of one of Trina's school notebooks.
He carefully unfolded, smoothed the pages back, and began to read.
Nikolas opened the parlor doors to find his son on the couch, leaning forward with his head in his hands, weeping into them with heart-rending sobs.
He was alarmed and rushed to his son's side, kneeling beside the couch and laying a hand with extreme caution on Spencer's back, ready to pull back at a moment's notice if the touch was unwelcome. Spencer didn't seem to notice, so wrapped up in his emotions. Nikolas spied the letter on the table before his son and frowned as he wondered what was in the pages that so profoundly affected his son so.
"Spencer?" Nikolas was worried and concerned. After everything his son had been through the last year, including the yawning distance between them, Nikolas feared his son could spiral even further down with whatever new heartbreak just occurred, "Spencer, please talk to me. Tell me what's going on. Maybe I can help?"
Help?
Of all the things his father had just said to him, the last word penetrated Spencer's bubble of emotion, and the sobbing slowed. There were a few watery sniffles, and Spencer's shoulders began to move again.
As Nikolas was about to panic, he realized that Spencer was laughing.
"Spencer?!" Nikolas wasn't sure if this was a positive sign or the manifestation of a devastated mind. He watched his son, dressed in a blue plaid flannel and jeans, try to get a hold of himself, and fail.
Spencer's chuckles continued to grow, and he finally lifted his head to face his father, his face red with emotion and tear-stained. At his father's wary expression, fresh gales of laughter came over him, and his hand landed over his chest as he sat back, trying desperately to catch his breath while so many feelings ran through him.
Nikolas grew warier even as some of the tension in his body lowered. Whatever happened to his son at the moment appeared to be some form of cathartic release, so he stayed silent and supportive, though impatient for the moment to pass.
Spencer smiled as he studied his father. Nikolas was dressed in a navy suit for the evening, accompanying Ava at the event tonight. His suit was crisply pressed, and he wore a black buttoned shirt beneath it.
Nikolas took the black handkerchief from his jacket and pressed it into his son's hand, "Spencer, talk to me. What's going on? Are you alright?"
The receding tide of emotion left Spencer calm, with a clarity he wasn't sure he'd ever really had before. He took the handkerchief and wiped his nose, drying the tracks down his cheeks. He gave the well-spun fabric care as he folded it and swiped at the bottom of his chin and neck to clear the remaining wetness. Deeply ingrained formality made him nod his head and murmur, "Thanks, Father. I'm better now." Spencer didn't bother handing the cloth back, and Nikolas didn't reach for it.
Nikolas breathed a little easier to see Spencer's composure, "Do you want to tell me what's going on?"
Spencer studied his father in silence and then sat forward, the fabric held loosely in his hands as he turned to his father kneeling beside him, "Trina wrote me a letter, and it made me… emotional."
Nikolas nodded once, "I see." He didn't.
"No, you don't." Spencer responded levelly, "It.." Spencer took a moment to decide his path forward, "It was a beautiful letter. It may be the most wonderful thing ever done for me, and I was overwhelmed by it."
Nikolas nodded with a dawning understanding, "Well, I'm glad it was something good and not something tragic?" Nikolas felt a little out of his depth, suddenly.
Spencer noted it and responded with equanimity, "Thank you."
There was an awkward silence, and then Nikolas rose to his feet, "Well, I should probably be going if I'm going to make it to Ava's gallery event." He took a few steps to the door before turning to look at his son. This may be the most extended conversation they've had for months that didn't involve anger, mockery, or disappointment. "I know I'm not perfect, but I do love you and want the best for you, Son."
Spencer watched his father and spoke calmly, honestly, and surprisingly without vindictiveness, "I know. That makes the state of things between us so sad, Father." He stood and walked closer to the man he loved and idolized, who betrayed him. "You are doing your best."
They both could hear the silent acknowledgment that Nikolas's best wasn't good enough, and Spencer shrugged, "Honestly, how on earth would you even know how to do better?" He stuffed the wet handkerchief into his back jean pocket.
Spencer studied his father's expression as he tried to make sense of the thoughts he's had a hundred times out loud, "You don't know how to be a good father." It was the end and the beginning of understanding the man standing before him, "Sometimes you try. You often don't, and you know you fall short because of it."
Spencer's dark eyes were searching for some sign of acknowledgment or ownership of this simple truth on his father's face. Seeing none, he continued, "I think it's as disappointing to you as it is to me, frankly. Maybe even more so for you depending on how you imagined a true father-son relationship."
Nikolas' eyebrows furrowed, and his hands squeezed into fists at his side as he watched his son speak with a clarity that was somehow more devastating than when he talked to him in anger or rage. At least with those emotions, Nikolas could tell himself that there was an irrationality or immaturity to his son's words and actions. This calm? He could tell it wasn't meant to hurt, but it cut deep into him and left him speechless.
Spencer knew his father didn't have anything to say to that; he never did when things got tough like this. So he softly offered, "Maybe this is a conversation we can have with Kevin one day when you're ready to face the truth about yourself. Either way, I want you to know that I know that you love me, and I know that I'm never going to be first in your life- by the way," he couldn't help interjecting, "That was the hardest lesson I've had to learn in all of this and now that I understand that, I've got to figure out what that means for me."
Spencer ran a hand through his hair absently as he arranged more of his running thoughts and shared them aloud, "Where was I? Oh yes, and I believe that you want what's best for me. And right now? That's Trina." His hands shifted as if to signal, 'of course'.
"Trina is, hand's down, the best person to ever come into my life. I love her, and she somehow loves me back."
Spencer couldn't stop the small smile that crossed his face at that, and his hands became animated to emphasize his point as he continued, "For the longest time, Grandma was the only person who told me she believed in me and that I could be better, but I didn't believe her." He pointed to his chest, "I just thought she loved me, was scared of the Cassadine side of me, and how it would manifest."
"And she was right to fear that because there's a lot of darkness within us, Father. And now I understand how hard she tried to steer you toward the right path. To no avail." Spencer's hands fell to his sides, "But that's okay because she loves you, even when you constantly stray off course. That's true love, isn't it? A mother's love. Acceptance with just a bit of faith? The bond between a mother and son is a powerful connection, isn't it?"
Nikolas' jaw worked silently, and all he could do was give his son a brief incline of his head in acknowledgment.
Spencer's frame relaxed as he rocked back on his heels, "And now, I have Trina. She also believes in me and believes I can be a better person." His chin lifted, "And I'm starting to believe her. You want to know why?"
Spencer laid a hand on his father's shoulder, "Because standing here, looking at you, Father. I see that I could be just like you if I don't." He nodded gravely, "I can do all sorts of underhanded things and follow them up with justifications that I could use to validate whatever twisted motives I'm acting on."
Spencer shook his head and lifted his free hand to point at his father and then himself, "But we both know, deep down, what's Right or Wrong. We're just arrogant enough- Cassadine enough not to care." Spencer's hand lowered, "And for me? That stops now." He turned to recover the letter, folded it carefully, and held it gingerly in his hands before he turned back to his father.
"I'm going to be better than you," he promised. "Better than any other person alive or dead with the name 'Cassadine.'" He winced at his father's expressionless face and tensing jaw and acknowledged the unspoken, "It's a low bar, I know. And yes, I am being a little petty right now. Old habits die hard. I've got to work on that."
Spencer observed his father from head to toe, "Thank you, Father." His expression became earnest, "No, really, thank you. I used to think I was the man I am because of you. Now I know that it's because of me." His hand covered his heart, "I saw what you tried to teach me and learned all the wrong lessons from it. That's not your fault; that's on me."
He reached up to smooth his father's collar, his tone mild, "You're going to be late if you don't leave for the gallery now. Give my regards to your loving wife." Spencer nodded to his father and walked around and out of the room.
Nikolas watched the retreating back of his son, a vortex of anger, hurt, disappointment, and loneliness weighing him down like a lodestone as he gritted his teeth, swallowed hard, lifted his chin, and stepped forward. If he and his son had anything in common, it was their ability to endure emotional devastation.
It was their gift.
It was a crisp autumn evening in Port Charles, New York. The leaves of the trees illuminated by the street lights were a parade of colorful foliage peeking from dark shadows along Spencer's walk to the gallery. It wouldn't be long before the leaves began to fall, making branches bare and skeletal. The wind was constant, a promise of the winter chill to come.
Spencer loved this time of year. He always appreciated the turn of the seasons from the sunny glare of summer to the quiet of winter's cold embrace. He wore a white buttoned shirt, black tweed jacket, and slacks. He leaned against the entryway wall and slipped his hands into his pockets when he entered the gallery.
His black shoes gently shone in the tastefully lit room as he looked down and took slow, steadying breaths to keep himself centered before he scanned the crowd. There were probably over a hundred people present, laughing, drinking, and admiring the works on the walls and the pieces on display. He ran his hand through his hair in agitation. His hair was loose or, as Trina would say, 'floppy,' no doubt a mess, made so by his anxious hands and the relentless wind.
Spencer closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the crowd, and lost himself in a moment of private reverie while standing at the public entrance. His mind immediately conjured an image of him and Trina snuggling together on the sofa of his bedroom suite, cozy by the fire, while they drank tea and enjoyed a quiet evening reading. He could almost feel the heat from the fireplace and hear the crackle of burning wood….
"Spencer?" Trina's voice was soft, incredulous, and scandalized.
He opened his eyes, and his dreams faded compared to the real Trina Robinson before him.
She was stunning.
She wore a soft velvety red dress that hugged her curves and flared over her hips. The hem skimmed her knees, and she was wearing black tights with some geometric lacing pattern and yet another pair of platform shoes. This time they were calf-high black suede boots with at least three inches of a chunky heel.
Her face glowed a rich dark copper. Her eyelids were a vibrant gold shimmer, and her dark eyes were lined with a glittery black cat's eye. Her cheekbones were somehow both rouged and pearlescent. Her lips were soft in contrast, with a sweet berry tint. Trina's long, black hair was pulled back and up into a ponytail, and he could see the telltale shimmer of the fantastic glittery lotion on her skin that made her seem unreal and luminescent.
Spencer was sophisticated in understanding the application of cosmetics. Some of it was due to his theater work and appreciation of fashion and beauty. However, there was a mysterious alchemy regarding how Trina could take a color or style that would be over-the-top or even garish on someone else and effortlessly have it look amazing on her. She never appeared to be chasing someone else's style or a fad. Instead, she knew how to use makeup to reveal enticing new aspects of herself.
Trina looked around the room in alarm and grabbed Spencer's arm, dragging him into the coat check room as she hissed, "Oh my god, Spencer. Someone's going to see you! Then you'll be back in Pentonville for who knows how long?!" She was nearly panicked at the idea of it all and carefully shut the door behind her, leaning back against it. The sight of Spencer before her, solid, handsome, and in person, was terrific and terrible!
Spencer stepped forward and laid his hands gently on Trina's shoulders, his expression softening at her panic. His voice was low and quiet, pitched to reassure and soothe, "Trina, My Love, it's okay-"
"It's NOT okay for you to be here, Spencer!" Trina's gaze met Spencer's in earnest. Despite admiring his thick lashes close up, she stayed laser-focused on the situation at hand, even as his gaze lowered to her lips, "No one can see you here, so… I'm going to count to three, peek out the door, and if the coast is clear, I'll open the door, and you can rush to the entrance."
Spencer shook his head in defiance of this plan, and his hands gently took her face in his, "Trina, listen to me, I don't have to leave-"
"Spencer, YES, YOU DO! Jordan is here tonight. I think Officer Falconeri is also here. If they see you-"
Spencer leaned in and kissed those amazing lips softly, more of a whisper than a kiss.
There was power in that gentleness, and Trina's anxiety lowered slightly but didn't diminish. She laid her hands over his on her face, and as she tried to speak again, his lips pressed hers with complete contact. His thumbs gently caressed the corners of her lips, and he murmured against her lips, "Trina Robinson, please be quiet and let me speak." He kissed her a third time softly, "Please?"
Trina's dark lashes fell as she closed her eyes and gasped softly against his lips, glad for the door's solid steadiness behind her. There was something about Spencer saying please that just did it for her. She peered through her lashes at him in a slight attempt to keep the overwhelming effect he had on her to herself.
Spencer could see the color in her cheeks heighten, her lips parted, and feel her hands hold his against her skin. He shifted his body closer to her, pressing her more entirely against the door, his knee slipping between her legs as he took her silence as consent, "Thank you."
He breathed her in and used more will than he realized he would need to return to the matter at hand, "Thank you for your concern for my well-being. I assure you that I will not do anything to jeopardize my freedom further. More importantly, I will never put myself in a situation that will keep me from being with you again." The pledge was said softly but with a steely undertone.
Trina opened her mouth to speak, but at Spencer's lifted brow, she pressed her lips together and took a deep breath to steady herself. She was feeling a bit light-headed and distracted.
Spencer continued, his dark eyes brightening as he noted her reaction to his closeness, "The reason I am here with you tonight is that I wanted to share the good news that my home incarceration has come to an early conclusion." He smiled in anticipation of Trina's reaction.
It was slow in coming because Trina couldn't quite believe her ears.
Spencer nodded to the unspoken request for reassurance.
Trina was suddenly overcome with joy, and her arms went around his neck as she began to bounce, "OH MY GOD, SPENCER! WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO IN THE FIRST PLACE!" She squealed in true delight.
Spencer enjoyed Trina's enthusiasm, especially since her curvy frame bounced and rubbed against him. He couldn't help his physical reaction as he hardened against her warm softness, and he could tell the moment she could tell too because her jubilation slowed and the room temperature increased.
Spencer's gaze was electric, and Trina met his gaze head-on. Her voice was soft, "I'm so happy for you, Spencer. And I'm proud of you."
Spencer studied her and then shook his head in denial, "I didn't-"
Trina's tone was caring but insistent, "You faced the consequences of your actions head-on and did what needed to be done- without any shortcuts. To you, it may seem small, but it's something, and it should be celebrated." Her gaze was intent as her fingers began to toy with the ends of the hair at the back of his neck absently. He shivered at the scrape of her long nails and the unwavering belief she had in him.
His gaze lowered, and Trina nearly smiled to see another glimpse of the little boy hidden beneath the walled-off exterior of Spencer Cassadine. The simple joy of being praised made him shy. Her voice softened, "It's like I said in the letter, Spencer. If you ever got to a place where you trusted and believed in yourself? You would be unstoppable."
Spencer's breath caught, and he swallowed hard, looking back into Trina's dark eyes. He could almost feel her willing him to accept her words.
A lifetime of wanting to be good enough and feeling as if he'd fallen short was hard to put aside, even for her.
She saw the moment she lost him to his hurt, and her heart broke a little for him. It would take more than a letter and his freedom for Spencer to feel that he was worthy of- Well, whatever he thought he wasn't worthy of.
He was suddenly ashamed for disappointing Trina, and before he could pull away, she tugged him closer and held him harder. "Shh, Baby- it's okay. It's going to take time, and it's going to take a bit more work, is all. It's okay." She could feel him bury his face in her neck and his grasp on her hips tightened almost painfully as he became emotional.
Trina whispered, "I'm here, Spencer. You don't have to hide from me. If you want to cry, you can cry."
For the second time that day, Spencer Cassadine sobbed. This time, the tears were a different kind of release. In Trina's arms, at this moment, he felt utterly safe. As if the constant maelstrom of his life finally brought him to a safe harbor. Her whispers of affection and support were a balm to his exhausted soul. His arms slipped behind her, and he held her tightly to him like a teddy bear that could keep all of the nightmares of his life at bay.
They held each other as muffled music and conversation filtered in from the other side of the door.
Spencer kissed the tender skin of the neck just beneath Trina's ear. He loved the sensation of her silky skin, loved the smells of cherry, almond, and soft florals in a sweet, intoxicating scent. He couldn't help brushing his lips against her smooth skin and then tasting that skin with his tongue.
She tasted better than she smelled.
He had to investigate this further! He brushed his lips along her neck and gently nipped at her ear lobe, carefully avoiding the petite gold piercing. Her gasp encouraged him, and he nipped again with a touch more pressure before soothing the hurt with his tongue.
She could feel his smile against her skin, and she couldn't help the soft moan it elicited. Spencer's hands began exploring the delicate musculature of her back. She was compact, curvy, and toned. He loved the feel of her warm body through the soft velvet of her dress. The lush fabric was buttery and sensual in his hands. She trembled with longing and whispered his name, "Spencer… this is so nice, but we can't-"
Spencer brushed his lips against the curving shell of her ear and rumbled lowly, "We can do anything we put our minds to, Trina Robinson." Now it was his turn to be encouraging.
Trina tilted her head to the side to give Spencer more access, chuckling despite herself, "Just because we can doesn't mean we should! Someone can come by any minute!" She couldn't help but whine her hips against his muscular thigh. It made the juncture between her legs sing with the delicious friction.
Spencer loved how fearlessly Trina responded to him, even while he tried his very hardest to be respectful, "I know, Baby. Any minute, but what is it they say? Carpe diem?" His hands lowered to grasp her buttocks and press her firmly against his hard length. He ground his erection into her, and she moaned, her head falling back against the door as she bit her lower lip.
Spencer's left hand slid up along her body, along her ribs, the side of her breast, and landed over her heart- splayed at her collarbone in a gentle but possessive gesture. He brought his gaze to Trina's with an unspoken question.
She was finding it hard to keep the thread of the conversation. Her voice was wanton as she ineffectively tried to reason, "All we'll seize here is the wrong kind of gossip if we-"
She abruptly stopped speaking as she realized she could feel his strong hand reaching into the waistband of her tights. Somehow he managed to lift her skirt, and his hand was slowly snaking across the slight swell of her belly down south until they touched the elastic of her tights.
His eyes were burning black coals of desire as they bored into her. His voice was low and gruff, "I'll stop if you want me to, but Baby, you have to tell me now."
Why on earth would she do that? She asked herself, completely lost as she saw the depth of Spencer's desire and need for her. It equaled her own. She wanted him so much right now. She didn't care where they were or if anyone else would discover them. But… shouldn't she care? She moaned softly in mournful passion, "I'm at work. We can't have sex on the floor of the coat closet..." There was an unspoken, or can we?
Spencer respected Trina's intention and took her at her spoken word, "Then we won't." His eyes suddenly lit with devilish delight as an idea occurred, "Okay, no sex on the floor." He leaned in close to her ear and continued almost conversationally, his voice darkly erotic, "What if, instead- I moved this hand further down, pushed my fingers inside of you, and fucked you with them?"
Trina's mind went blank.
Spencer's hand slowly traced his fingertips along the elastic seam of her tights. He watched her avidly for the faintest sign of protest. He began to whisper a countdown in her ear, "Five. Four. Three. Two…." He pulled back so he could see her expression. He wanted to be sure that she was with him.
"One." He still waited, his fingertips easing just under the elastic. He waited for any small sign of resistance or protest.
He saw none.
Trina wanted him so much. She was scandalized and so incredibly turned on by him. She couldn't speak. She was tongue-tied. With his eyes demanding any response from her, she could only manage to nod in affirmation. Her lips formed the word in a voiceless plea, "Yes."
With relief, Spencer kissed Trina gently in thanks as his hand continued its journey south against her quivering skin, brushing through the soft curls and lower until he cupped her moist center gently. The hand on her collarbone tightened slightly, and he hissed, his expression nearly pained as he met Trina's gaze with ecstatic wonder, "Oh my god, Trina. You're so hot and wet for me."
Trina's expression was brazen, and she felt feminine and powerful. Her gaze was hot and level, meeting his intently, though her voice was high, soft, and reedy with demand, "Yes, because I need you inside me." Her hips moved against his hand, trying to grind the sensitive nerve endings of her clitoris against his fingertips. She had gone well past shy to the place inside her that was knowing, sexual, and confident. She didn't think she could be this way until Spencer came into her life.
She was learning more about herself every day.
She leaned in to lick at his lips and was pleased to hear him gasp with surprise. Emboldened, she taunted him playfully, "Go ahead, Spencer. Seize the day."
Spencer smiled at the challenging tone and shifted his hand, using the hot wetness from Trina's center to lubricate the glide of his long, lean fingers against her in a slow, deft stroke. He pressed inside deeply with one finger, his gaze fixed on her expression, loving the color in her cheeks and the dazed look of enjoyment that came over her as her attention focused on the pleasure he gave her. He slowly began to remove the digit, only to press up again inside of her. He did this in a slow-growing rhythm and was rewarded when her eyes close and her hips move to the rhythm he set.
Trina's heart was pounding. With her eyes closed, her other senses seemed heightened- the feel of his fingers pressing inside of her, the hard, cool wood at her back, the muffled crowd in the distance, the heat of Spencer's body against her, and the feel of his gaze watching her. Her efforts to stay quiet as pleasure wracked her frame were a heady cocktail that goaded her passion. She clamped her lips shut to keep from crying out.
Watching Trina respond so openly to his ministrations made him so hard. She was the sexiest person he'd ever met, and the fact that she was letting him please her in a nearly public place where they could be interrupted at any moment was intoxicating and made Spencer feel both powerful and humbled at the same time. Trina's trust in him was staggering.
He couldn't disappoint her and would be remiss in taking too much of her time.
Trina gasped as a second digit pressed deeply within her, stretching her trembling walls to admit his plundering fingers. She bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from crying out as Spencer's tempo increased and the delicious, invasive friction within her grew. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge, and she whimpered at being so close and far away. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and her long nails dug into the fabric as she held onto him for dear life.
His voice was hot in her ear as he whispered her words from earlier back to her, "I'm here, Baby." And his thumb began to flick across her clit in some primitive dance with his fingers. He could feel her straining and muffled whimpers as she fought to stay quiet. With a deep and guttural voice, his hand on her collarbone shifted to take the back of her neck almost roughly as he demanded, "Come for me, Trina."
His lips descended onto hers hungrily as he pressed his fingers deeper and faster into her, pressing against the ridged spot within her.
Like lightning, climax struck, and she came. He ate her cries of pleasure with a ferocity of satisfaction. The near violence of the kiss somehow pushed her to come again, right on the heels of the first orgasm. She screamed into him as he wrung every bit of pleasure he could from her until she lay limp against the door, gasping for breath, her forehead resting on his chest.
Spencer gently eased his fingers from her and brought them to his lips, savoring her taste. He licked his fingers clean and then his lips, watching her, loving how she couldn't help herself from watching him do it. He murmured in promise, "I can't wait to taste you properly later."
Trina was weak-kneed and breathless, but she gasped with promise, "No, next time, it'll be my turn."
Spencer smiled and inclined his head, "As you wish."
It was an absolute miracle that they hadn't been interrupted. Spencer wondered if this was the universe's way of making up for the dozens of times he and Trina had been interrupted.
He sipped from a glass of sparkling cider and watched the crowd from a vantage point at the back of the room. There were some brilliant works of art on display, and he watched with quiet pride as Trina worked the room, happily explaining the origins and techniques of a wooden and clay sculpture to an admiring couple. No one could guess that half an hour ago, they had a sexual encounter in the coat closet. All Trina needed was a well-applied swipe of lip gloss and a smile.
Spencer's gaze shifted to observe Ava. She wore an exquisite, one-shouldered aquamarine sweater dress that suited her petite frame. She worked the room in silver high heels. As usual, her blonde hair was a silky bob brushing her shoulders. Small oval fire opals dangled from her ears and neck in a chunky silver necklace.
She was beautiful, and he paid dearly for her to be so. Spencer swallowed the disappointment and hurt he felt at the sudden reminder that Ava traded away his fortune to Valanetin to have access to the doctor who would heal her scars and make her look beautiful again.
Watching Ava in her element, Spencer, for the first time in his life, seriously considered if there was a way he could forgive this woman. For as horrible and faithless as she has been to him, Ava has been Trina's loyal and steadfast friend and mentor.
Trina.
In the long run, it would cause Trina distress if he couldn't find a way to make peace. He knew Trina wouldn't ask it of him because she respected Spencer and the devastation Ava caused, but he wanted to do this for her. He would do anything for her.
No time like the present to start. Carpe diem, right?
He downed the rest of his drink and began maneuvering his way through the crowd, gracefully setting his glass on a tray carried by the waitstaff along the way. He took a deep breath and stepped behind the elegant woman as she concluded a short story about how the featured artist was a contemporary of Basquiat.
Unable to resist, he spoke, knowing it would knock Ava off-kilter, "That was a very interesting story."
If she was startled by his presence, she didn't show it. Only the incline of her head showed her acknowledgment of his existence. She slowly turned to face him, her eyebrows in perfect arches of nearly sincere welcome, "Spencer Cassadine, as I live and breathe! Nikolas didn't tell me that you were free from house arrest." It was nearly a question.
Her bright eyes gleamed with anticipation for battle, eyes narrowing as she studied the young man's features. He was handsome tonight. A set to his shoulders and a lift to his chin showed he was confident and comfortable. A frosty countenance and barbed niceties had prefaced so many of their few but intense interactions.
Yet tonight? Something was difficult. Ava could sense that, for once, she didn't need to be quite as on edge as usual. However, she would never let down her guard with this Cassadine.
"Ava," Spencer inclined his head regally, "My father doesn't know. We couldn't discuss it before he left to come here." Spencer's gaze roamed the crowd and unerringly found his father speaking with Grandmother, his eyes meeting Spencer's in obvious concern before shifting back to Laura to continue whatever conversation they were having.
Ava followed Spencer's gaze to her husband and back, "Well, it's a welcome surprise to see that you chose our little event for your first foray back into the world. Though I'm sure it has nothing to do with art and everything to do with Trina."
Spencer could hear the smile in Ava's voice, and he turned his gaze back to her. There was an uncharacteristic softness about Ava when she spoke of her protege. Spencer nodded, "Indeed. I want to support her. I know she worked very hard to help this evening come together."
Ava nodded, her eyes quickly spotting the beautiful young Black woman in the crowd, "Indeed she did! She came in every day, even on the weekends, and this week put in so many long hours- I don't have to tell you, of course. You know."
Spencer smiled with pride and looked down as he tried to formulate his next move.
Sensing Spencer wanted to say something, Ava smiled at a guest and reached for the passing martini. Whatever was going to happen next, she would be prepared.
Spencer looked up and observed the room, asking with a deliberate formality, "Ava, can we talk?"
Ava's brows lowered, and she took the silver toothpick that held the two olives in hand as she considered him. Before she could gently turn him down, he continued.
"I know this isn't the best time, but if I don't do this now…" he shook his head and met her gaze head-on, "I would.. really appreciate a few minutes of your time."
It was the closest to "please" he could muster.
Ava could feel Trina's gaze watching them with worried concern and sighed in capitulation, "Of course. Why don't you join me in the back office in five minutes? The program is about to start, and we won't be interrupted."
Spencer nodded and left Ava's side. He unerringly found Trina's inquiring gaze and winked at her. He could see her frame relax, and she beamed back. His ease brought out hers. It was astonishing to Spencer that even across a room, they could read each other so well. She was such a phenomenal person.
He was so lucky to have her.
He walked over to where his father and grandmother were chatting, and Laura's face lit up to see her tall and handsome grandson. He seemed lighter and more centered, she thought.
She beamed, "Well, look who's out and about! I heard about your early release. Congratulations, Spencer. I'm so proud of you."
Spencer melted at the effusive praise and couldn't resist drawing Laura into a warm hug, "Thank you, Grandmother. It means the world to me to hear you say that." He kissed her cheek and released her.
Laura lightly laid a hand on Spencer's chest, "I'm always proud of you, Spencer. Especially of the man I see standing before me. Doesn't he make you so proud, Nikolas?"
Laura turned to pull her son into the conversation. There was a reserve as Nikolas responded almost regretfully, "Always."
Laura could sense the emotional vortex between the two of them, but in a public place, she knew it wasn't the time or place to pursue it. She looked back to Spencer, "Trina has done a wonderful job bringing this event together. Ava told me earlier how hard Trina worked to do all of this. You must tell her we are impressed and happy for her success."
Spencer beamed with pride. Laura's opinion meant the world to him. He ignored his father, "I will share that message with her. She'll be so happy to hear it."
The thought of Trina's happiness filled him with such lightness. A minute later, the music stopped, and Ava took the floor, welcoming everyone to the event. She soon handed the spotlight over to Trina. Trina began to share details about the featured African American artist whose work was on display.
Another reason Trina was amazing, Spencer thought. Ava had a good eye for art, even Spencer couldn't deny that, but Trina's subtle influence expanded Ava's repertoire to include more artists of diverse backgrounds and expressions.
Trina then ceded the floor to applause, and an art historian replaced her in the front of the room. They began to speak in greater detail about the works presented and their importance to New York's cultural narrative history.
Ava was thrilled that the evening was going well and, as promised, wound her way through the crowd to the back office. She caught Spencer's eye and inclined her head for him to join her.
Spencer turned back to Laura and Nikolas, "I need to speak to Ava. I'll return shortly."
Nikolas' brows descended in confusion and alarm. Just as he was about to step forward to intercept his son, he felt Laura's hand on his arm as she spoke to Spencer, "Of course. We'll be here when you get back."
Laura's gaze was pointed as she looked at her son. Nikolas read the message there and nodded, looking to his son, "Yes. Right here." He affirmed.
Spencer shook his head slightly at the power play, "Thank you, Grandmother." He turned, unerringly met Trina's gaze across the room, and smiled again with a nod. He headed for the back office.
Trina didn't completely understand what was happening, but she trusted Spencer not to make a mess of her momentous evening. So, with effort, she pulled her attention back to the matters at hand and went back to work.
Spencer took a deep breath before entering the room where Ava waited. She stood before a large wooden desk with a computer, keyboard, printer, and extra programs from tonight's event.
She leaned her hip against the desk, swirled her toothpick around her glass, and took a sip. Her shimmering pink lipstick didn't leave a trace on the glass. She peered at Spencer through her lashes, "We have about ten minutes before I have to go back out there, so whatever you want to say, make it quick." She then stood up straight and gestured for him to come closer as she went around the desk and sat down, crossing her legs at the knee.
Spencer licked his suddenly dry lips. His intentions were clear, but he didn't have a well-thought-out plan. He was winging it at this point, and not being prepared for what to say made him nervous. He sat down on the edge of the chair across from the desk and rested his hands on his knees as he faced her head-on. He went straight to the point, "You are important to Trina, so I would.." he searched for the right word, "...prefer that we find a way to co-exist. Peacefully. For Trina's sake."
Ava studied Spencer, drained the last of her martini, and carefully set the glass aside. She sat back in her chair and moved her arms wide open as she laughed humorlessly, "You would, would you?"
Spencer nodded tersely, his jaw working, "Yes."
Her hands landed gently on the desk, and she pulled herself closer to it, her elbows folding to rest on the hard surface while her chin became propped on her fists. She considered his words and studied his demeanor thoughtfully.
The silence grew.
Spencer could see the silvery chrome manicure on Ava's nails and the extravagant wedding ring his father gave her in sharp relief as she finally asked in soft but cynical wonderment, "How, praytell, shall this miracle come to pass?"
Spencer mirrored Ava as he leaned in, his right hand resting on the edge of her desk, "We look each other in the eye, admit the wrongs we've done one another, and make an agreement for how we proceed forward."
Ava thought it over and looked at her watch. Spencer continued, "Not right now, of course. I mean sometime soon. And in the meantime, we call a truce."
"A detente, you mean," Ava murmured as she eyed the young man. She takes a breath, "It sounds as if you're sincere."
"I am," Spencer affirmed, his gaze open, honest, and direct. He hated this conversation even though he knew it was a necessary one. Trina believed he could be a better man and was also beginning to believe it. Carrying around the anger and resentment he had for Ava would be a distraction, a waste of emotion and time that he could be pouring into his new life, rehabilitation, and relationship with Trina.
Like a North Star, his love for Trina led him to his more authentic self.
Whatever emotions or thoughts crossed Spencer's face, he didn't know, but Ava nodded and stood up, "Fine. We'll try this ceasefire. If it can last a whole month, I will be open to negotiating a long-term resolution."
She offered Spencer her hand.
Spencer eyed what he surmised was sincerity in Ava's gaze and accepted her hand, firmly shaking it in agreement. Just as he began to let go, Ava's hand tightened.
Spencer frowned and tensed.
Ava spoke quietly and intently, "You have much to make up for with Trina. I would advise you to keep putting her well-being first. If you hurt that young woman again…?" Ava's eyes hardened, and an edge sharpened her voice, "Heaven help you, stepson, or not." She smiled tightly, a promise.
Spencer ground his teeth and spoke quietly, "If I hurt Trina again, you'll be the least of my concerns." His other hand covered their joined ones, "Either way, whatever happens, I'll probably deserve it."
They released each other simultaneously, in complete accord for once.
"Ava." Spencer inclined his head.
"Spencer," Ava spoke back, biting back the mocking tone to sound neutral.
Spencer's parting smile revealed that he knew she nearly slipped but would let it go as he turned and left the office.
Laura tapped Trina on the shoulder, careful not to startle the young woman as she set her barely touched the glass of champagne on the tray for the wait staff to take away. "Trina, this has been a fantastic event. You've done a wonderful job tonight."
Trina beamed at the praise, blushing as she met the glowing approval, "Thank you, Mayor Collins. I'm so glad you could make it!"
"Please, call me Laura." She offered.
Trina felt awkward but wanted to be polite, "Okay, Ms. Laura."
Laura laughed softly and decided to let it go, "You don't have to be so formal with me. You're dating my grandson, aren't you?"
Trina's blush deepened, and her gaze lowered shyly, "I guess so."
Laura shook her head and laid a warm hand on Trina's arm, "Don't mind me. Call me whatever makes you feel the most comfortable. You certainly don't have to be shy around me, okay?" Laura maneuvered her gaze to catch Trina's.
Trina met the insistent and kind gaze of Spencer and Cameron's grandmother and nodded, "Okay. Thank you." She smiled in noticeable relief.
What a caring and compassionate soul, Laura thought to herself as she observed the beautiful young woman. Well done, Spencer.
Nikolas observed his wife as she said her goodnights to the guests leaving the gallery. Only a tiny handful remained, speaking casually in the lobby as they grabbed their coats and prepared to set off for the night. Ava was stunning, as usual, and was doing what she loved. Nikolas smiled, watching her.
His gaze then shifted to observe his son, whose attention was locked onto Trina's trim form as she started gathering leftover glasses placed on arbitrary surfaces about the room, balancing them on a tray. As Spencer moved to help Trina, one of the wait staff came to the young woman's side and gracefully whisked the tray from her. Even from a distance, Nikolas could tell that the wait person was thanking Trina profusely for her help but firmly taking the task of clearing the room alone.
Trina smiled ruefully and rubbed her hands together, looking around the room for another task to handle, and her eyes tracked immediately over to Spencer, who stood off to the side, watching her with his hands in his pockets. There was such a relaxed and warm expression on his face. Nikolas couldn't remember the last time he saw his son so happy. It filled him with pride to see his son blossom under Trina's care, even if it made him feel even more distant from his son. To see the young boy Spencer once was, become a man who could stand on his own two feet and live a life no longer wanting his father's influence. It hurt.
It was inevitable, Nikolas supposed.
He turned his attention back to Ava and left Spencer behind to live his life the best way he saw fit. Maybe one day, there'll be another opportunity to reconnect. It certainly wasn't going to happen tonight.
Trina looked over at Spencer as she set the stack of unused programs on the desk in the back office, "You didn't have to stick around. I could have called and headed to Wyndemere when I wrapped all this up."
Spencer smiled from the door, standing with his arms crossed, simply watching his woman move, "You're right. I did not. I wanted to anyway."
Trina crossed to the doorway and reached the light switch panel, "I'm glad you stayed." She turned off the light and enjoyed how suddenly Spencer seemed like a tall, mysterious stranger with the light glowing behind him, illuminating his solid form. She remembered the first time they had met. He was dressed in black, wearing a mask. Just as mysterious and much less of a threat this time around.
Spencer's arms slipped around Trina, pulling her in for a solid hug and gentle, playful kiss. "As you can see, I'm still 'seizing the day'." He smiled at her soft laugh and couldn't resist kissing her suddenly and intensely.
She melted into his arms, kissing him back fervently.
"Ahem."
Ava's pointed cough interrupted the couple. Her tone was fond and amused as she spoke gently, "If you don't mind, I would like to lock up and go home now."
The young lovers parted quickly, and Ava hid her grin as she turned and walked to the front doors where Nikolas waited.
Spencer took Trina's hand to lead her out of the building, and Trina stopped just before they caught up with the older couple, "Oh, I left something in the coat room." Trina studiously avoided Spencer's gaze as she sprinted off and returned with her purse and coat a moment later. Spencer immediately reached for the coat to help Trina slip it over her shoulders. She murmured her thanks, still not meeting Spencer's gaze.
Spencer did his best to look normal, though he could feel a bit of a blush redden his cheeks. He opened the door for Trina and nodded to his father and Ava, "Good night."
Nikolas stepped outside and asked, "I gather we are all returning to Wyndemere together. Why don't I give you a ride?" Ava stepped outside and locked the door, her black mink coat dully gleaming from the street lights.
Spencer smiled with edged satisfaction, "Thank you, Father. We have other plans to celebrate my first night of freedom." He looked at Ava and inclined his head, "Ava. It was a lovely event."
Ava smoothed her hand over the collar of her coat and gave Spencer a cordial smile, "Thank you. Most of the credit goes to Trina, of course." She smiled at the blushing woman fondly and interrupted before Trina could speak, "I will brook no arguments with you, young lady! You did good tonight. Accept the compliment, revel in your victory, celebrate your success, and enjoy your night with your beau." She leaned in, gave Trina a fond squeeze of the arm, and turned to take Nikolas' arm, "Goodnight, Trina. Spencer."
Trina waved to Ava and Nikolas, "Night!" She smiled, pleased and excited.
Spencer nodded to the older couple and took Trina's hand, leading her to the rideshare waiting for them. Once they were safely ensconced inside with buckled seat belts and on their way, Trina leaned over to whisper, "Where are we going?"
Spencer grinned, "You'll see!"