Thanks for the feedback, Eggwhisker! I'm glad that you're continuing to enjoy. Forward march!
Italics text = texts from Lucas
Bold text = texts from Celia
Rating M: Sexual Situations, Language
Chapter 4: Missed Opportunity
You missed out last night
Was it good?
Good enough, without you
We'll have to work on that
Can't wait. Free Saturday afternoon? There's a Tate Modern exhibit I want to see
On shift Saturday. Next week dinner & Tate sometime?
Sounds great. Let me know what works
Shit, just found out I'm rolling to nightshift the rest of this week. Raincheck
Wow. Just for the week?
For now. Not entirely uncommon, but doesn't make it suck any less
Just trying to be proactive and keep things on schedule?
Trying is the operative word
I'll bring you tea some night
I'd like that
Will you still be around in 20?
Sorry, already left. Goodnight xx
Good morning x
Well if you want lunch with a zombie, today's my day off to roll back
Fish and chips are an excellent cure for zombie-ism
Oh, fuck yes. Man after my own heart
Northeast corner of Westminster Bridge, noon
See you then
It was good to see you today
You, too. Why are you still awake?
Long night
I'm sorry
Me too
I'd come over and give you a hug if it weren't so late
That's a nice thought to fall asleep to. Goodnight
Sleep tight xx
Try for the Tate on Saturday?
I went already, sorry. I'm all for seeing you, though
How about a movie instead?
If you don't mind me feeling you up in the dark
I give as good as I get
I'm counting on it
Just let me know when
Did I lose you?
Hope you're safe
Safe
Thanks. I'm glad
Up for a pint?
Where?
I'm at Leicester Square station
Give me 20 minutes
Thank you for the headache this morning
I think you needed those drinks as badly as I did
I'm not used to drinking ales
You were cute, though. Made me want to kiss you until the flush in your cheeks deepened for other reasons
Fuck, you should have
Maybe
Not one for PDA?
Too public
Shame. I desperately wanted to learn what that ale tasted like on your tongue
Minx
You're one to talk
When we're alone
Tonight?
Soon
Didn't we talk about a movie date once?
We did. Do you have a night in mind?
Tomorrow. A ~21:00 showing on Friday? Still leaves plenty of time after
I like the way you think. You have Saturday off?
Yes
It's a date, mister
I'll come by at 20:30
Lovely
Look forward to seeing you soon
Still on for tonight?
8:43 pm and he hadn't arrived yet. Nor responded to her text messages. It seemed unlikely that even if he were to arrive now that they would be able to make the cinema on time.
She fought with herself not to worry. She could hear his voice all too clearly from dinner, when he had laid out exactly what being with him could mean. Not being able to keep planned dates. Disappearing without a word. A week or so ago, he had stopped responding to text messages for a few days, but they didn't have any firm plans and didn't really trade messages all that regularly anyway.
But what if it was more than that this time? What if he was dead somewhere? Or captured? Or bleeding out in someone else's kitchen? There were few scenarios she could conjure that were actually a good reason why he was late. Everything else just rotted her stomach.
At 9:01 pm, she changed into her lounge pants, cami and university sweatshirt, retreating to the living room and blindly surfing the tele for something distracting. The questions were endless and the strong amount of concern was surprising. Had she really fallen so much in such a short amount of time?
She didn't last long before she had to open a bottle of wine, bringing it and a glass with her to the living room. There wasn't anything overly interesting on the tele, but she tried her hardest to focus on it as the wine started to disappear. If this was what the nights of silence and disappearance felt like, she would have to come up with some better way to deal with it. She just didn't expect it to happen so fast, just like this.
11:23 pm and she still sat on the couch trying to drown out the worrying of her mind. The wine had created a nice fuzz and she was thinking about packing it in for bed soon. Sleep depriving herself wouldn't do Lucas any good, wherever he was. She chanced an errant glance at her phone, catching the flash of the notification light. Her heart caught in her throat as she saw the sender, relief flooding through her.
Still awake?
She didn't even hesitate.
Yes. You're welcome to still come by
Please
She bit her lip, her fingers eager to type more. To tell him how much she wanted to see him. To implore him to come over. Yes, it sounded incredibly needy, but she didn't care. He could have been dead in some back alleyway and she wasn't ready to say goodbye.
I'll be over in 15
It was the longest 15 minutes of her life by the time the doorbell rang. But the instant she opened it to see him standing there, the knots in her stomach unclenched and she breathed an unbidden sigh of relief.
"Hey, you." The words left her on a shaky breath as she resisted everything within her to grab him in a crushing hug. Guilt hung in his eyes, giving off a sheepish air, as he stood with his hands tucked in his jeans' pockets, the rest of him looking unflappable as ever.
"Hi – I apologize for missing our movie date tonight, but it couldn't be avoided." He stepped inside, shrugging out of his coat as she closed and locked the door.
"I won't lie and say I wasn't worried," she started, following him into the living room. "But you told me that there would be nights like this. So, you have nothing to apologize for. The last thing I am is angry or disappointed."
"That's rather generous of you," he came to sit on the couch next to her, "not everyone would be so understanding."
"Well, that's their problem, then," she couldn't take her eyes off him, drinking him in, reveling in the fact that he was well and whole and here, "you are all I have been able to think about since you were supposed to come over." She swore she saw the faintest shade of pink flash on his cheeks, but he was good at schooling at his reactions. It was probably a necessity for his job, but she wished that he would relax around her. Maybe it was too soon.
"I'm flattered…embarrassed, actually," his lips quirked in an uncharacteristically adorable smile, "it's been a long time since someone cared about my wellbeing so much. I'm…not used to it."
"Then you're long overdue." She couldn't stand just looking at him anymore. Her gaze settled to the line of his lips in an unmistakable broadcast. The air between them thickened as she licked her lips. "You better be here to stay—"
"I am." His voice was a low rumble, hunger raw at the edges.
"Good." A fire lit in her belly as she leaned into him, catching his scent from the day – barely-there aftershave, roast coffee and something musty. It was a heady combination, dizzying her senses. His lips touched hers with steady conviction, coaxing a sigh from her at the sweet relief of contact.
Her touch was pure tonic. His body was wound so tight and here she was, willingly letting him kiss her, inviting him to touch her. He teased her bottom lip, enticing her to open. Willingly, she followed his lead, keening high in her throat at the hot slide of his tongue. The rest of her body was screaming for his touch and she inched closer to him on the couch, dying to know if the rest of him was just as warm and sure as his kiss.
Lost in the taste of each other, his hand settled to her hip, his thumb rubbing circles against the sharp bone. Skin…that was what they needed. She all but whimpered when his mischievous thumb slipped beneath her sweatshirt and cami, stroking a simple pattern against her skin.
"God, Lucas…." She sighed through the kiss, her breathing heavy and thick. "I want you so damn much." He surged his lips against hers, his arms coming to wrap around her tight, drawing her in. She lost her tongue to the touch of his, any and all words forgotten. Held in his strong embrace, she could only fall with him as he reclined back against the couch cushions. She shifted against him, slowly sliding her body along his longer one, flushing with arousal to feel the groan that rumbled through him as he held her on top of him.
She could get lost in his kisses, in the smooth slide of his lips on hers, in the heat of him. Her fingers carded through his raven hair, loving the strength of his arms and hands as they ran down her sides, teasing the waistband of her pants along her skin. She whimpered as his hips rolled up into hers, the hard outline of his desire prominent against her.
She smiled against his lips, tilting her head to nuzzle his pointed nose, the promise in the slow, thrusting contact of their hips undeniable. Her fingers slid to the buttons on his dress shirt between them, deftly pulling them free, revealing the gray undershirt beneath. His lips returned to hers, already red and a little swollen from the rasp of his stubble, as she pulled the shirts free from his jeans. He nipped her playfully, watching her struggle to inch the dress shirt up with his back against the couch. A frustrated little noise left her, rewarded when he bent at the waist to ease the shirt's passage over his shoulders, baring the pale skin of his biceps and forearms. She dipped her head back to brush a quick kiss before glancing down to his undershirt clad torso and exposed arms. He heard her gasp of surprise, watching a smile curl her lips.
"Why am I not surprised you have tattoos, you bad boy." Her fingers fell first to the black inked strap on his right forearm, turning it to expose the chain running up the inside. A dark feeling of dread – some shame, even – welled in the pit of his stomach, spreading through his body like ice water.
"They're not what you think." He simply stated, the gravity of his voice taking her completely by surprise. Her eyes returned to his, searching for something, anything…but damn his trained countenance.
"They're not…." She struggled to understand as her eyes dropped to the undershirt, suddenly wishing it wasn't there. At length, she turned to his left arm, drawn to the black writing disappearing up under the left sleeve. She studied the letters, her brow furrowing. "Not English. It looks…I'm not sure."
"Russian." He finished for her, eyes locked on the ceiling, bracing himself.
"Russian?" She raised her head, looking him squarely in his crystalline eyes. The hunger had faded, replaced with something much more haunting mixed with trepidation. Her mind started reeling, trying to work through any and all possible combinations why his tattoos in Russian might cause him alarm right now. Was he a Russian spy? A double-agent? Somehow, that didn't seem likely. But…what was it he'd said? About extenuating circumstances…? She took in both the tattoos that she could see, wondering if he had more. All at once, images from the movie 'Eastern Promises' flashed through her mind. Her eyes widened as realization slowly dawned, concern permeating her gaze. "Were…," she started nervously, "were you imprisoned?"
"For eight years, in Russia." His voice was deep and dark, belying not even a fraction of the pain that he had experienced. Suddenly Ros' words from the hospital flared to life in her head – 'He has known little else in the last eight years' – she swallowed hard.
"If I had known…I wouldn't have…." Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment and she couldn't help but look at the black ink on his skin. "I wouldn't have tried to spin them…god, somehow that seems so insulting now. I'm sorry…so sorry." She dropped her head to his chest, driven by an urge to be close to him, to just lie here with him, listening to his heart beat. She couldn't image what all he had suffered….and to think, he hadn't shown an obvious sign of such a past.
"I don't want, or need, your pity." A bitter edge soured his words as he nearly resisted the urge to pry her off of him. She titled her head against him to meet his gaze, taken aback at the sternness of his stare. He froze, confused at the determination in the lines of her face.
"I'm not sorry out of pity," she simply said, a faint hint of offense coloring her words, "I'm sorry that I tried to cheapen them." He sighed in annoyance, in resignation. This was never going to work. Who was he trying to fool.
"You can't want me. I shouldn't have stayed that night." He lifted a hand from around her, bringing it to scrub tiredly across his face, wondering why he had even tried. She stared quizzically at him, catching his hand and pulling it down to her, brushing her lips across his knuckles.
"Because you were in prison for eight years means you shouldn't have a girlfriend?" Her words were so simple. "You already told me that it had been over eight years since you last tried anything like a relationship." He continued to stare at the ceiling, not wanting to hear her. Afraid to believe her, that such a thing could be successfully possible for him again.
"I'm too fucked up for anything so…normal." She laughed softly against him, snuggling more into him, doing her best to wrap her arms around him.
"I think everyone's a little fucked up about something. That's the modern age for you." Yes, it was cynical, but it was what she knew to be true. "This just happens to be yours. And while, I grant you, it's more extreme than your average, run of the mill fucked-up-ness – I told you once already, don't chase me away if you don't want to." The plain honesty in her eyes was almost painful. "It takes a lot for me to give up something that I like and want. And I like and want you, you dark, handsome, fucked up man." A light laugh rumbled in his chest in spite of himself, in spite of the incredulity of the situation. She sighed, snuggling into the soft fabric of his undershirt as his arm came back around her, just holding her to him. "Stay with me tonight, please? We can leave our clothes on, just…don't leave me yet. Please."
She didn't figure he would stay unless they slept together first, and sure enough, she could see the hesitation in his eyes before he actually accepted. And, yes, her blood still coursed hotly through her, eager for satisfaction, but she really did mean what she'd said. The sexual frustration was worth it just to keep him close. There wasn't anything else she wanted. Well, not really, at least.
But when he pulled the undershirt away to reveal more black swirls of ink, and when he shimmied his jeans off slim hips to reveal more toned muscles, her resolve started to crumble. He graciously accepted a spare toothbrush, walking cautiously around her as though waiting for her to change her mind. But now he rested, convincingly relaxed with half of his chest bared by the bedsheets, waiting for her to finish up. How had she ever gotten so lucky?
She flicked off the bathroom light, rubbing in the last of her hand lotion before pulling the covers back. The cool, soft cotton of the sheets was welcome against her heated skin as she reached for the light, plunging them into the blues and blacks of midnight. She could barely make his profile out against the darkness as she settled against the pillow, facing him. Her heart pounded at the staggering intimacy of just laying with him like this. Her body twitched against the sheets, burning to close the distance between them, her core aching for his attention. He shifted his head on the pillow, edging closer to her. She reciprocated his movement, feeling his steady breath ghost across her cheek. Her hand moved, driven only to touch him, running around the curve of his shoulder, tracing the muscles there. Their lips met in an unspoken tidal wave of release. He drank in her languorous sigh as her mouth opened to his. A desperation sparked in their touch as he licked into her mouth, deepening the contact. Fuck, this was what she had been so desperate for. She moaned against him, her legs twining with his, her arms urging him closer.
He moved seamlessly, pushing her back against the mattress as he rolled on top of her, a low growl in his throat to nestle himself in the hot apex of her legs. A whimper trembled her lips as he pressed his hips further into hers, such torturously thin layers of clothing between them. He nipped her jaw, drowning in her smell and heat, wanting to abandon himself to this woman. God, it had been so long, and her fingers skimming down his back, cupping his backside to grind him further into her were almost too much. Her incessant fingers settled to the waistband of his briefs, prying the fabric down over his hipbones. He wasted no time with her cami and shorts, desperate to have her bare underneath him.
His fingers found her soaking folds, plunging in, gratified with her moaning gasp, the bucking of her hips to match his movements.
"So wet…" He purred, kissing down the valley of her breasts before taking a nipple in his mouth. She writhed against him, pinned by the motions of his fingers and tongue.
"I've been wet for you since our first glass of wine." He groaned, low and serrated, driven only to bury himself within her. He pulled his fingers free, her groan of protest in his ear before he lined up, brushing against her entrance. "Please…" She whispered, pushing against him, disappointed to feel him pull back.
"I need to get—"
"I'm covered; IUD. Unless you're—"
"No…I'm good." His bloodwork had returned blissfully negative after his release to freedom. He was grateful for it then, but this moment was beyond compare. She craned her neck, pressing her lips to his, drinking him in, devouring him, reassuring him, carding her hands through his hair. He met little resistance as he pushed into her, his breath stolen as the searing heat engulfed him. They groaned in unison as he seated himself fully within her, each enjoying the onslaught of sensation, the promise of release to come. A wet, sloppy kiss was the best they could manage as he started the slow drag of his hips, ratcheting the tension higher. She whimpered and gasped, her heart threatening to explode as he moved, so slow, so deliberately.
"Please, just…fuck me. Take me slow later." Her pleaded words were hot against his lips before he rushed against her, his lips crushing, his hips snapping in sharp movements. She caught a strangled cry in her throat as she gripped him tighter.
"Let me hear you," his voice was rough, commanding, "I want to hear how good you feel." His hips slammed forward and the wanton moan that tore from her was almost his undoing. He was close, too close, too soon. "Fuck, you're perfect." He rasped through low grunts as he pushed himself against her, driven by the telltale clenching of her walls. Canting his hips, he worked a hand between them, rubbing and tweaking until she tightened impossibly, his vision going white. She cried out as orgasm took her, her body convulsing around him, into him as he let himself go, groaning his release. Sated, lazy kisses drifted between their ragged breaths, sweat slicked skin cooling as their world consisted only of each other in this moment. She nuzzled his nose, just breathing, relishing him atop her and surrounding her.
The strong urge to whisper 'I love you' was almost overwhelming.