Hey, I'm sorry it took so long to update. Been having a blast with life, school, and love.
Enjoy chapter 9!
Months had passed since Free's attack, and the onset of summer made the days swelter from heat waves that swept across the desert. The barrier helped shield from the hundred-degree weather, but it still caused the denizens to drench in sweat.
She walked into their home, hot and tired. She took a deep breath, and picked out the scent of his deodorant amid the smell of leftover chicken from last night's dinner. They weren't talking like they used to, but if she were to be honest with herself, they hadn't spoken much since Free's attack and her miscarriage. They hardly even looked at each other, in public or in private, let alone cuddled in bed at night. Most nights they didn't even share the same bed. She saw him sitting on the couch, staring off into space. He didn't move when she shut the door. She dismissed it as though he hadn't heard anything, but a second later, thought that maybe he was still frustrated with her. They had fought about what to do with their children's room just after breakfast. In a fit, she walked out on him.
He moved his eyes to the black screen of the television, and saw her reflection. He had been staring at the blank television since she had left, trying to think through his thoughts. He had no idea what he was thinking, let alone how he should even be feeling. Regret? Anger? Sorrow? If anything, he was heavily confused.
She stared at him for a minute, and opened her mouth to mutter an apology or an announcement of her return, but closed it. It's best to leave him alone… She thought. She looked around, and then walked down the hallway, past Asa and Shira's bedroom, and to their bedroom. She shut the door quietly, and leaned against it, feeling her eyes heat and water. The intense emotions of sorrow and confusion were nothing new, and she had completely surrendered herself to it weeks ago.
She wrapped her arms around herself and let the tears fall as she tried to keep her sobs quiet. Her chest hurt and her heart ached. She didn't know whether she was frustrated with her inability to see from his point of view, with his inability to see from her point of view, or overall, their lack of proper communication.
Even after Asa and Shira's death, they had some decent moments. They could cuddle, laugh and tickle each other, basking in the other's support and comfort. But, after Free's attack and her miscarriage, it seemed they hated each other now.
Before Asa and Shira's death, and before their birth, she remembered when they stole any opportunity to be with each other. Someone's voice (she couldn't remember whose), rang through her head. Love is made up of many things, infatuation being one of them. But when infatuation takes control of most of your actions and memories, Love doesn't have the same meaning. It becomes just sex. It is the same for the reverse. If there is no infatuation, or when one desires while the other doesn't, the love seems to lose its meaning.
She wiped her eyes, and looked at the mirror across from her, studying herself.
Is that it? Could it be that he doesn't desire me anymore? Does he not want me? Have we really lost what we used to have? All because we… All because we failed, as parents? She asked herself. She sat herself down on the bed, and grabbed a pillow. She hugged it tightly, thinking.
In the living room, he turned his head to the direction of his bedroom, watching her walk away. He felt his throat tighten with guilt, and averted his eyes, growing frustrated. His eyebrow furrowed, and his lips pursed. It took him a moment to realize what his expression was, and he blinked it away, and shook himself. They'd tried to talk, but neither could spit the words out, or gather their thoughts, too ashamed of them.
He wanted to call out to her, but the words would not escape him. He didn't notice that a tear fell down his face, and bounced off of his shirt. It rolled down the fabric, and hit his hand. He stared at it for a moment, and then jumped up off the couch, walking to his bedroom. The door was shut. He looked at the floor. The light made dark shadows where her feet blocked it. He thought twice against opening the door.
He leaned his ear against the door, and heard her crying. That sound stabbed him like a thousand knives, and he regretted not acknowledging her presence, especially with what they'd argued about earlier that morning. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. He went to the bathroom, and stared at himself in the mirror, angry with himself.
What the hell is wrong with you, you arrogant bastard? He thought to himself. He stared at his chin, scruffy and unshaven, and his eyes, dark circles underneath them from lack of proper sleep. He heaved a deep sigh, and turned on the faucet, letting the water warm up.
After shaving and drying off his face with a towel, he walked to the door to their bedroom again, finding himself hesitating once more as he reached for the handle.
He scowled at his hesitance, and grasped the handle tightly, turning it and opening the door quickly before he changed his mind. She was sitting on the bed, holding a pillow tightly, staring off into space at the floor. She looked up at him, nothing to say, an empty look in her eye. It was the first time their eyes had made contact in quite a while.
As he stared into them, he suddenly remembered how pretty her purple eyes were, even as empty as they seemed at this particular moment. She stared back at his, and as she saw the life creeping back into his eyes, she felt her own glaze over. He rushed forward, pressing one hand to her cheek and scooping the other behind her neck, leaning down and placing a tender kiss on her lips. They were cold and chapped, uncared for, but he didn't care at the moment.
She gasped, shocked at the sudden move. She felt a forgotten wave of pleasure course through her body and after getting over the initial stun of the kiss, trailed her hands up his arms as she kissed him back. She squeezed his arm muscles, enjoying the way that they felt against her fingertips.
She stood up, wrapping her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. He moved one hand down her body to the small of her back, pressing her against him as he stroked her cheek with his thumb, rough and calloused.
He found himself biting her lip, and she sighed. They opened their eyes, staring at each other for a moment, lost for words. His eyes smiled at her, and hers welled up with more tears. He rushed forward and kissed her again, holding her tightly against himself as though she would vanish at any moment. She grasped onto his shoulder with one hand and wrapped her arm around his back, legs trembling as she fought to stay standing. In spontaneity, he pressed her against the post of the bed, running his hands along her sides and gripping her hips. He noticed that she had gotten thinner, probably due to the post-partum depression she was experiencing, but he forced the thought out of his head. He'd talk about it later. He kissed her cheek, making his way to her neck, which had also thinned. It made his heart cry. How could he have failed to notice the drastic change in someone he loved so much?
He snaked his hands down her back again, squeezing her butt, pressing himself against her, and she shuddered and whispered his name. He softly bit her neck, and she let out a small moan, grabbing his broad, muscular shoulders. Every kiss, every nibble, and every squeeze of his hands sent a rush through her veins that nurtured her soul, brought her to life and out of the drowning abyss she'd fallen into.
He kissed down the revealing line of her shirt, unbuttoning it as he went. She shrugged it off and tugged at his shirt, eager to feel his warm skin against her slightly cold but tingling skin. She had goose bumps from the change in heat, and as she pulled his shirt up over his head, he broke away to look at her once again.
Her skin had paled since the last time he had seen her this way, save for the blushes of red on her chest and cheeks. Her bra hung loosely on her shoulders, her rib cage a little more obvious than it used to be. He sighed with a concerned expression on his face as he trailed his hands along the skin of her shoulders and arms. She immediately became self-conscious, and crossed her arms across her chest, trying to hide her rib cage.
"I haven't eaten much. Not since…" She whispered, eyes downcast. He moved a strand of hair behind her ear and hugged her tightly.
"I'll be sure to fix that." He consoled her, wrapping his long arms around her small frame. She hugged him tightly, fighting the urge to start weeping in embarrassment.
"Honey, it's… it's ok. I-I still love you." He whispered, lips brushing against her collarbone.
"I always have and always will love you." He unlatched her bra, pulling the straps down her shoulders and he pushed her off of him lightly, letting it fall to the floor. He kissed her again, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb with one hand while hoisting her leg up on his hip with the other.
He pressed against her firmly, kissing and biting her neck softly, and teased her nipple, pinching it lightly and tracing his fingertips around it in circles. He pulled at the button on her jeans, pulling the zipper down and sliding his hand beneath the fabric, grabbing her hips and pressing against her between the legs, again, harder, purring a little from the sensation.
He got to his knees, kissing his way down her body, pulling her pants and underwear down and off. Her hip bones were definitely protruding, the loss of weight obvious here as well. He trailed a finger along the inside of her thigh, and she fought to keep from laughing—it tickled. He kissed her stomach as he slid a finger inside her, and she moaned. He grabbed her knee and set her leg up on his shoulder, prying her lips apart with his fingers and licking her clit.
She gasped at the sudden action, grabbed a fistful of his hair in alarm, then softened as he did it again, tracing circles around the nub with the tip of his tongue. Normally she kept herself trimmed, but in light of recent events, she hadn't bothered to trim at all. He ignored the fact. This wasn't about him.
He thrust another finger inside, scissoring and stroking her with the pad of his fingers, licking at her clit, giving it the occasional nip with his lips, and it wasn't long before she snapped, moaning and arching off of his fingers, tightening around him as well. She had dug her nails into his shoulder, leaving small crescent marks in it when she let go.
He unbuttoned his pants and let them drop off his waist; he always had a problem finding pants that fit him. He stepped out of them and hooked one of her legs around his waist while reaching down to get the other, picking her up and pressing against her to pin her between the post and himself. She wrapped her legs around his waist and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on to his broad shoulders.
He slid himself inside, sighing contentedly at the warmth that enveloped him. She moaned, writhing in pleasure from the feeling of being as close to him as physically possible. He looked her in the eyes, kissed her again, and she tried to thrust her hips, silently begging him to move.
He obliged, pulling out and thrusting in again, grunting from the feeling. He pinned her against the post of the bed for a while, before lifting her off of it and setting her down at the edge of the bed, propping himself over her and continuing to thrust. She cried out, arching, amazed at the forgotten feeling of them being as physically and emotionally close as they could be, and gripped the sheet so that her knuckles were white.
He grunted her name, biting her neck, panting as he continued. One of her hands found his, and he intertwined their fingers and squeezed it. He covered her with kisses, extremely pleased when she gripped his biceps. Her heart fluttered when she felt them. He was strong, but gentle, and always ready to help and protect her whenever she needed it. How could she have forgotten?
He slowed himself and rested his forehead on her shoulder in attempt to keep himself in check. She wrapped her legs around him and urged him to keep going, and he felt a small smile form on his lips.
He resumed his pace and whispered about how beautiful she was. Her eyes fluttered closed in bliss as she felt him thrust particularly deep inside. The hand on his biceps looped around to rest across his shoulders, and she pulled him down to kiss him.
"I-I'm gonna, gonna come, Black Star." She warned him, fighting the close of her eyes. She wanted to see him, see his reactions to every word she said, every way that she reacted to his lovemaking. He groaned; he'd forgotten the rush he got when she told him when she was close to an orgasm.
The rush gave him a boost. He threw his head back with a moan, then buried it in the crane of her neck as he thrust hard and sharp, spilling himself inside of her.
With the intensity of his jabbing thrusts and the feeling of a strange, wet and sticky warmth pooling into her body, she tightened her legs around him as she came as well, her vaginal muscles seeming to pull him even further into her.
Panting, he settled on his knees and elbows, placing light kisses on her shoulder. He barely registered the caress of her hand on his back, tracing his flexed muscles. He chuckled, and so did she. When their eyes locked, their laughter grew, then shifted into whimpers and weeps.
Rather than having only themselves to hold onto, they clung to each other, basking in the comfort each other could offer.
"Honey, we should eat something… besides each other." Black Star voiced, hissing in pleasure as she nibbled his nipple. She shook her head, and continued making her way down to his already erect penis.
"I'm not hungry." She pouted, grasping him and stroking him. Not for food, anyway. She added silently, smirking as the thought crossed her mind.
"But we should still eat some-thhhing…" He glanced down at her, finding her looking back up at him while sucking at him, hard. He gave a sheepish smile; it was incredibly hot, and he couldn't remember the last time she'd done something like that.
They hadn't left the room all day. Hell, they hadn't left it since yesterday evening, when they'd first started this wild round of lovemaking. The brief thought that they hadn't had sex like this since they first started dating flitted across his mind, but disappeared as she made a 'pop' sound with her mouth as she pulled away from him.
"Oh, fuck, Tsubaki, I-
He was cut off when she kissed him, thrusting her tongue in his mouth. She sucked at his lip and bit it, and he gripped her hips.
"We'll eat something later?" She asked, looking back and forth from one eye to the other. He gave something of a stupefied grin and rolled over on top of her, nodding hastily.
"Yeah. Later." He agreed, spreading her legs quickly and sliding into her.
He loved watching the water roll down her hair, cascading it down her back. The way her slender fingers clawed at the tile of the shower, and the sultry expressions on her face as he thrust into her. His ears tickled with each moan, and the way her screams of her orgasms etched themselves into his brain when he really got going.
They'd only gotten in the shower because they wanted to wash away the aftermath of their animalistic love-making; but when she rubbed her butt against his groin when he began to knead her breasts with soapy, lavender-scented hands, he was ready to go for what seemed like the third time that day.
If it wasn't in the shower or in their bed, it was in the kitchen, with her either bent over or laying on top of the kitchen table (or countertop, if they couldn't wait to travel the ten-foot distance). The living room, where he'd given himself carpet burn on his knees, and she'd managed to get carpet burn on the tops of her feet (they'd laughed for a good half hour about this). Even in the hallway, where he'd lifted her up and pinned her against the wall, accidentally knocking down a painting they'd framed years ago (it was a wedding gift, so they weren't too bothered about it). They'd even made love outside in the garden, warmed by the midsummer heat, not caring what the neighbors heard (also, learning that grass itches the ball sack and/or nipples like crazy). Black Star wondered if Tsubaki wanted the cops called on them for a "noise complaint".
Maka and Soul, Stein and Marie, and Kidd and his wives had called on various occasions, only to be redirected to the answering machine that had a new personalized message: "We're not dead, we're just fucking each other's brains out", in Black Star's voice. Each group only left one message (or in Kidd's case, not at all) and none had called again.
His favorite sight to behold? Her, on top of him, watching her breasts bounce and head turning from side to side as she'd rock her hips on him. By the light of the morning, midday, or evening sun, or by the light of the moon, he wasn't sure which view he preferred. He wasn't sure if it even mattered.
He did know that he never wanted to go this long without paying any attention to his wife ever again.
Hehe... Please review. Curious to know what you thought.