AN: M rated chapter
PJ
Gillian leaned back in the hot water and finally relaxed. It had been a hell of a long day and this was exactly what she needed. A glass of wine and a bubble bath. It was so quiet in the house she could hear the slight static sound of the bubbles popping around her. She slipped further down in the water, until it filled her ears and she couldn't hear anything at all but her own breath. The surface of the water was obscured by mounds of vanilla and peach scented white foam and she closed her eyes for a moment, adjusting her legs so her skin was beneath the surface of the hot water.
There was a sudden knock on the bathroom door and Gillian jumped a mile, kicking her feet against the end of the bath so she sat up, sloshing the water violently up the side to leave a high tide mark of bubbles. Cal's head appeared first. "Jesus Cal!" Gillian blurted. "You gave me a heart attack."
"I hope not," he responded simply, pushing into the room and closing the door behind him.
"What are you doing here?" Gillian watched him head towards her, her heart pounding.
"I said I'd come ova."
"Yeah but... I thought you'd call first." Or something.
Cal gave a shrug and kicked his shoes off. Gillian continued to look up at him as he started to undress. "What are you doing?"
"Thought I'd jump in," Cal answered, pulling his shirt and jersey off in one motion. He stopped and studied her for a second, shirtless. "Unless you wanted to be alone?" But he could clearly see she didn't because he kept going, tossing his clothes to the side and working on his trousers. Gillian watched him get naked and felt a stirring in her groin. No, apparently she didn't want to be alone. Sometimes she hated that she was so obvious to him. He caught her off guard too often. He knew her too well.
They'd been back together a few weeks now and even after she thought they had talked out whatever his problem was, part of her long day had been dealing with him. That 'something' that wasn't quite right, it was still there. At work he was closed off and grumpy and aggressive. And when he was with her he was closed off and indifferent and today Gillian was just not in the mood for putting on that sunny demeanour and pretending like everything was fine. She was trying to give him the emotional space to get where he needed to be but she was starting to wonder if he wanted to, or even knew there was a distance between them. Even after they had had that talk.
Sometimes talking was overrated.
Gillian shifted forward to let Cal sit behind her and once he was settled he pulled her back against his chest and belly. They had so rarely done this, had a bath together. Not since that winter with the beautiful ice sculpting; when they had been headed in the right direction. Their break up had not just momentarily stalled their relationship; it seemed to have set them back further than Gillian thought. She wanted to tell him to go home again but she also didn't want to push him further away than he already was. Cal's hands settled at Gillian's hips, low, against the curve of her thighs and she felt an ache roll through her pelvis. She was, by now, aware she was breathing too fast.
She knew better than to push him. And it would be better if he came to find his own peace but god sometimes it really tested her faith. Trust was a matter of faith and maybe today had just been one of those days when it had been sorely tested. But then again, here he was, when she had told him she was going home to soak in the bath and he had said he'd come over later, and she had honestly thought he'd call her later to say he was too tired. This was his house too, technically and she didn't like being in it without him. Not anymore.
Cal's fingers caressed against her skin, causing that ache to burn a little brighter and she wondered if he knew what he did to her; if he knew that all those months apart she had missed him terribly. He pressed his cheek against her ear and he was warm. He stayed that way, half embracing her, for a long moment, and then he turned his head and dropped a kiss against her temple. He lingered against her ponytail; she could feel the press of his nose against her scalp and she knew he was smelling her hair. She took a deep breath, as if on instinct, and the scent of vanilla and peaches from the bubbles filled her nostrils.
Cal raised his left hand to brush against her neck and that was kind of the last straw. Gillian grabbed his other and moved it so his fingers were between her legs. She felt his muscles stiffen around her, surprised. His left hand ceased and she could feel him holding his breath. Gillian couldn't seem to catch hers. "I want you to touch me," she strangled out, grateful that he couldn't see her face right now. She didn't want him to read her, she just wanted him to give her that release from all the tension.
Cal's right hand, that had gone limp under the grip around his wrist, moved of its own volition again. Fingers snaked their way immediately towards her, touching lightly, feeling their way, making Gillian squirm and shift her hips, seeking him out too. He stroked and she shivered again, this time more pronounced, so the water rippled against the edges of the bath. Gillian panted as he brought her to a thundering pounding. She tucked her hands around the edges of his thighs, leaving him to it, holding on. Cal moved his left hand to her right breast, embracing her tightly while he gripped her flesh, brushing a thumb over her nipple; her hips pushed out against him.
He teased and stroked for a long time, slowly building the tempo in time with her heartbeat, working her breast at the same time. Gillian panted and moaned. Her toes curled against the end of the bath with the tension he was creating, her heels pushing against the ceramic, her fingers pressing into the flesh of his thighs. The ach of her pelvis was almost painful and the throbbing unbearable and yet he continued to tease. She wanted to ask him to stop, to make her come and get it over with, but she couldn't find words, he had wound her up that tightly; she didn't know how to work the muscles in her throat anymore.
Not even his name. She couldn't manage a word. Just little 'oh's' and muffled groans that echoed off the bathroom walls. Occasionally she would flinch so hard the water would splash and she could feel how cool it was against her hot flesh now. His hand on her breast was no longer gentle, he held on tightly, squeezing her nipple hard between thumb and forefinger, alternating between that and rubbing his palm against her left breast harshly. She could feel the pressure of him beneath her, the strong lines of the muscles in his body; he was all around her like a shell.
And then finally when she thought she couldn't stand it anymore he pushed his index finger inside her and she cried out, gripping him tighter, pushing herself off his chest a little. His forearm forced her back; his bones did not bend that way. He gave a little grunt and bit her neck as he stroked as deep inside her as he could reach, pressing his chest tight against her back for better leverage. Gillian gasped a breath, not sure when she ended and he began anymore, not even able to fully comprehend that this was the closest she had felt to him in far too long. It felt like an apology; it felt like he was trying again.
Gillian shifted a foot against the end of the bath again, pressing with the flat of her sole, rocking in time to his strokes. She didn't have her eyes open anymore and it felt like she was perpetually falling towards a goal she had forgotten. She groaned again as she wound tighter. It felt like she might snap in two. Cal didn't pick up the pace though, he kept it nice and steady, but he curled his finger up against her, hard, his hand on her breast almost painful and still she built. She built and built and then started to tip and didn't even realise it and then she was crashing down, quivering violently, fingernails seriously gripping on for dear life, feet flat against the end of the bath, pushing, as if she had the strength to shove it away from her.
She threw her head back against his collarbone and her breath caught in her lungs. Her scalp prickled as wave after wave washed over her until it felt like the violent pleasure would never end. She wasn't aware of anything else for a long time, not until she started to feel light headed and opened her eyes to find the bathroom light stabbing at her and Cal's arm disappearing over her stomach. She sucked in a deep breath, felt like she was choking on the hotness of her own body, felt her head start to clear. He continued to stroke her until her muscles gave and she collapsed in his arms and then he almost regretfully eased out of her and she missed him immediately; she ached to have him back already. Her hips quivered for him. She found a tickle of a tear run into her temple and was surprised. She was crying? Or was it just the force of her orgasm that had made it leak out?
She wanted to say something but her brain wasn't working and her mouth wasn't working and she was sure she couldn't feel her body at all, just the rippling echoes of the most violent orgasm... She wasn't even sure she had the correct basis to compare it to; it was in a league of its own. And still she could feel the quiver of her own body delighting in it, revelling, soaking up as much of it as she could get; her body was telling her mind what to do now: get as much of this as possible.
Gillian closed her eyes again, feeling the tightness of Cal's arms holding her, cradling her limp body and she breathed until she felt her arms and legs again. She gave a sigh and Cal leaned his mouth against her, pressing a gentle kiss. He asked her if she was ok.
"I," Gillian started and stopped because nothing else would come out. She nodded instead, feeling like she was regaining control. Her hands were floating in the water, her legs had collapsed wide open.
"Shall we get out now?" Cal asked her gently. If he hadn't been propping her up she would have forgotten he was even there. Gillian nodded again and he shifted her like a rag doll; maybe she wasn't quite ready. "Can you stand?" He wasn't teasing, or stroking his own ego, he was asking politely.
Gillian shook her head. Cal did chuckle then but it was not obtuse. "I can't lift you from the bath," he noted softly against her ear. He kissed her again. He wasn't hard anymore; soft and warm though.
"Sorry," Gillian managed.
"No," Cal cut her off. "No sorry." He was silent for a moment. "I'm glad."
She knew what he meant. He was saying 'I'm glad it was so incredible', 'I'm glad it was too intense for you to recover from yet', 'I'm glad I did my job right'. Oh so right. Gillian sighed again. She thought he'd just have a quick play around, and then she'd... not completely blow her mind. She moved her right hand to the arm still wrapped around her waist, curving her palm over his wrist. Her chest was exposed to the air and she realised all the bubbles had disintegrated. Her flesh was goose-pimpled and she was surprised because she was only just noticing now that she was cold.
Gillian turned her head. She was against his left shoulder and her mouth was within reach of kissing his jaw. Cal turned his head down to look at her and there was something in his eyes that made her feel warm again. That... 'love' expression of his. She wondered again what had suddenly changed, if it had suddenly changed, and the spell was broken abruptly and she could sit up. He helped her, his weight at her back, his hands gentle against her sensitive skin. He stood first, stepped out and grabbed a towel to quickly dry off the worst before wrapping it around his waist. He came back with a second one, giving Gillian his hand to help her stand. Her legs still felt wobbly. And she was partly pissed off that he really was that damn good. For a moment he'd made her forget everything but now her brain was functioning and while the tension felt like it was gone, her mind still remembered the actual day.
One incredible orgasm was not going to erase the hurt of the last few months, of being apart and then being together but still so distant.
Cal wrapped the towel around her shoulders, then drew her into a hug. It still felt like an apology and this time Gillian did feel her anger and frustration start to drain away. He held her for a long time, knowing that this was what she needed. Between the bath and this embrace Gillian realised he really did know her so well, not just when her body was craving him, but when her mind was too. Maybe she wasn't being fair. Being annoyed was not going to get her anywhere. He would pick up on it and resent her for it. That wasn't what a good relationship was about. She was allowed to be frustrated, sure, but if he was reaching out to her and she slapped his peace offering away, it would only compound the awfulness for the both of them. It would only make a middle ground harder to find.
Blow her mind. Oh.
Gillian tilted her head back and Cal let her go a little so she could meet his eye. Barefoot he was taller than her so she had to look up just a little, into his pale blues. She gave him a tentative smile and the warmth in his eyes flared. She reached up to put a kiss on his mouth, letting her lips massage over his. When she pulled back he was grinning again, pleased, not gloating, but pleasantly delighted. She liked this side of him. A lot. This was what she wanted. And good behaviour should be encouraged, while the bad ignored. So she took his hand and led him to the kitchen and in towels, they had dinner, periodically embracing each other when they got cold, before curling up in bed. No words, no heavy conversation, just enjoying the evening for what it had actually become: a step forward.