"Hope?"
I look up from my charts. It's well after closing hours and we're still sitting in our office catching up on work. Being away even for a week places such an inconvenience on our practice. Even after two years, I am still baffled at how Hope ran this practice by herself. Both of us are now seeing around 35-45 patients a day. Our patients have a high degree of loyalty and our referral base is quite impressive. It's flattering to be so well sought after and respected. However, the increased patient load on the practice does have its downsides. For one, it's hard to take any sort of vacation without inconveniencing the other person. And, our hours are getting longer and longer.
"Hmmm?"
"What do you think about taking on a physician's assistant?" I ask tentatively.
I hear her chair turn as she puts down her pen. "I was thinking about that. Or a nurse practitioner."
We both smile and look down before continuing in tandem, "We're too-" I laugh and gesture for her to continue.
She laughs at our mutual thought, "we're too busy, Beverly. When one of us goes away, it's too much for one person to handle. Karla does her best, but her skills are limited. If we brought in a PA or NP, we might be able to increase our patient load and then have a fall back for when either of us goes away."
I nod, "I agree. So, where should we look?"
She bends forward, leaning towards me as she rubs her temples. "I just don't know if I want someone fresh out of school…"
"I know what you mean. It would be taking a chance and I want someone who's a little more experienced."
"Let's put out a few feelers and see whose looking."
/
"Beverly! Shhh" I feel him laugh against my mouth not a second before his lips close over my own. His tongue slides against mine, wasting no time. He tastes like he always does and, as usual, it's making me want more. The battle for dominance is short lived. For only a second am I able to move the tip of my tongue deftly over his left molar before he pushes it away – making it known that he's controlling this endeavor.
His right hand tickles my hip and I break the kiss with a laugh. I know I'm being loud. I'm going to wake the kids if I keep this up. Good thing, though, that our walls and doors are thick. But still…
"Jean Luc Picard! If you keep doing-" My words are cut off again as another kiss claims my lips. I'm peripherally aware that my pants are only half off and my shirt only slightly unbuttoned. His clothes are still on as well. There's too much in the way and I'm impatient. He's got my hands pinned to my side, but I belligerently push him aside – not detracted from my goal. His only response is to smile and let me achieve my aim.
I think I ripped off one of his buttons. Oops. The shirt falls away, then the trousers, and finally his boxers until all he's wearing is an amused grin and black eyes full of arousal. My breath catches as a look at him.
He's on a mission as well. I feel the cool air of the bedroom on my breasts as my bra is unceremoniously strewn to the side. My pants are discarded and join his in a heap on the floor and soon my underwear follows.
I feel myself. I'm wet. I don't want foreplay. I just want my husband.
"Please, Jean Luc." It comes out as a breathy whimper rather than a supplication.
These damn decorative pillows are taking up too much of the bed. Being propped up against them is craning my neck and creating an awkward angle. He doesn't want to, but he tears himself from me and a strong arm knocks the damn things to the floor, joining the rest of the carnage.
His erection against my thigh is straining and painful. He's hot and pulsating. He's not going to last and neither am I.
I feel his breath against my neck. "I love you." He whispers hotly into my ear.
"I love you." I want to say. But the words don't come out. Every sensation is focused on the center of my own heat and I just want to feel him. His hand moves down to touch me, but I push it away. "You" I strain.
Not a second later he pushes into me, filling me and pressing up against my womb. I cry out, once again thankful for the thick walls and doors. I want to last. I want to draw this out but it's been a week and a half since we made love. He was afraid that it would be painful after the delivery. He's always so hesitant after I give birth. In a moment I promise myself that Aaron is our last due to the sheer fact that I can't go that long without him.
I wonder if it would have been this way on the Enterprise. Would we have been this hungry for one another? Would Jean Luc have been this passionate, or would he have restrained himself? Would our duties still come first as we put one another second? I grip him harder as these questions run through the back of my mind. I hold onto him firmly as the flat pane of my stomach rubs almost painfully against his.
I'm on the edge and finally I tumble over, bringing him with me as my muscles contract all around him. His breath is wet and hot against my ear. He's whispering words in French like he always does. I don't understand all of them, but they're incredibly erotic. Secondarily I feel a warm bead of moisture hit my shoulder and I realize that he's crying. He's as overwhelmed as I am. We've ridden through a rollercoaster of emotions these past few weeks and through it all we've held onto each other. He's me rock, my refuge, and I'm his. My life's storms are weathered in his arms and in his embrace.
"I love you" I finally manage against his chest. It's the first time I've been able to speak this evening since I came home.
Hope and I stayed at the office until late; Wes and the babies were asleep when I walked in the door at 10. No words were exchanged between my husband and I as he came to the foyer to greet me. I looked at him and he knew; he looked at me and I knew that this evening was not one for long discussions of our day. Food was forgotten as I claimed his lips, devouring him instead. We hastily made it to the bedroom and here we are. Sated. Loved. Assured.
And with the utterance of three banal little words, sleep is met and our bodies prepare themselves for another day.