Author's note:Thank you, UntilNeverDawns and VoiceoftheVoiceless! I'm so happy you enjoy the story. And thank you to all my other readers as well. I finished the story today and we've got lots of more chapters to come. And I've got lots of editing to do. Joy!
Some ice cubes involved in this chapter. Things are going to get pretty interesting... Enjoy!
Stuart Bennett was laughing to himself as he watched the scene in front of him unfold. It was better than any movie he had seen in the last couple of years. Speaking of movies, there would have been only one way he would have enjoyed this experience more - if someone had handed him a bucket of popcorn.
They were backstage in one of the corridors of the sports arena that would house Raw tonight. Nina Stewart had just walked up to Mark Henry with the words: "Mr Henry, could I please speak with you for a second?"
The large men had turned around and looked at the brown haired woman who was at least a foot smaller than him but didn't seem to be the slightest bit intimidated by him. Her politeness was cool and practiced and stood in contrast to the expression on her face. "You don't know me. My name is Nina Stewart." She held out her hand to him which briefly disappeared in Mark's enormous paw as he shook it.
"Mark Henry," the World's Strongest Athlete introduced himself somewhat redundantly, his deep voice echoing from the walls of the corridor.
"Nice to meet you," Nina replied, crossing her arms over her chest after their hand shake. The gesture made it clear that she was by no means delighted to meet the other man; in fact the opposite seemed to be true. She dished out some more of her cool politeness. "I'm a writer with the WWE. Stephen Farrelly is one of my charges..."
Stuart had the feeling that they would get to the heart of the matter any second now. He was almost tempted to rub his hands together in gleeful anticipation, but that would have been too childish.
Mark just nodded in acknowledgement of her words, oblivious to the fact that whatever the woman in front of him would have to say wouldn't be too nice. After years and years of playing the huge disgruntled heap of muscles, Mark must have developed an immunity to any form of dislike directed towards him.
"I understand you're going to go out there and beat him with a belt tonight...," Nina started. Her eyes had narrowed now and her tone was icy.
Mark seemed to acknowledge her presence for the first time since she had addressed him. He nodded. "That's correct."
"I would like to issue a polite warning concerning that..." Stuart had never heard of such a thing as a polite warning and the accusatory index finger Nina was stabbing into Mark's chest didn't seem very polite to him either, but he curiously continued to listen.
"The script says you're only supposed to hit his back. Should you however, let's say in the heat of the moment or out of inadvertence, hit any other part of his body, I'm going to have a very nice and long talk with your writer Vince. Maybe we can arrange a little fight against Ryback again and have him put you through a couple of tables..." Nina smiled a cold smile at the tall man that would have made the likes of Randy Orton proud.
Mark Henry stared at her for a while, then simply nodded at her and walked away. When he was out of sight, Nina turned around and let out a long exhale. She looked down at her own hands. They were shaking. When she raised her eyes, she finally spotted Stuart.
"Have you been standing here the whole time?" she asked him, shooting him an angry look.
"Well, someone had to watch your back, you daft cow!" he exclaimed and stormed off.
"Thanks, Stu," she called after him.
"You're bloody welcome!" he smiled with his back to her. He was out of view as soon as he rounded the next corner.
She could tell the match between Stuart and Stephen was winding down. Nina tore her eyes away from the TV screen and looked at Chris who was sitting next to her.
"I'm going to go now," she announced. "I don't wanna watch this. Are you going to give me a call when it's over? I'll go and have a smoke outside."
"You smoke?" he asked in surprise.
"Only when the shit hits the fan," she said darkly, quickly getting out of her seat.
She took one of the fire exits. Its door was already open. A brick was keeping the heavy door from falling shut. She stepped outside. A guy was standing there with his back to her. He was wearing army boots, black trousers and some sort of security vest. The whole outfit looked like the man belonged to a SWAT team. He was smoking a cigarette and turned to look over his shoulder when he heard her steps behind him. His hair had a weird color - half of it blonde, the other half dark.
She gave him a silent nod and got out her own pack of cigarettes which she had bought about five years back and always carried around in her bag in case of emergencies. There hadn't been too many of those emergencies. The pack was still half full.
Her lips closed around the cigarette and she produced a lighter from her bag. She struck the zippo lighter several times, but it wouldn't work. A soft chuckle reached her ear from her right and a hand holding a lighter with a flame dancing on top of it invaded her line of vision.
"Thanks," she muttered around the cigarette, taking her first drag. They stood there in companionable silence for a while, then, when she was halfway through her cigarette, her cellphone chirped. She threw the glowing contraption of tobacco and paper on the ground and extinguished it with a decisive twist of her boot heel.
She quickly got back inside. After she had stepped over the threshold of the door, she actually started running towards the stage exit. When she arrived there, he just came through it, looking all flushed and sweaty.
They had been careful about displays of affection in public and the corridor behind her was crawling with staff members and other people involved in the show, so she refrained from hugging him when she first laid eyes on him and let the doctor tend to him without making a fuss.
They made eye contact. He flinched when the physician touched his back, which she was yet to see. Judging by the concerned look on the medic's face, it wasn't a pretty sight, so she wisely refrained from looking at it for now.
She stepped in front of him. "Are you okay, Steve?" The concern in her voice was blatantly obvious and he doubted she would have been able to conceal it even if she had tried. He nodded, pressing his lips together tightly.
"How is he really, doc?"
Stephen's eyes momentarily flashed at her in anger. Why did she feel the need to ask the physician about his health when he had just told her he was fine himself?
"As to be expected. We already knew this would happen. He could give Django a run for his money though. He's probably going to feel this for a couple of days, but once we've put some soothing lotion on those welts, he should be relatively fine," the doctor told her calmly.
"Relatively fine. Okay," she gave him a mechanical nod. Nina was having some trouble processing the information she had just been given.
"Listen...," the doctor gave her a look that told her he was someone who was under way too much pressure with way too much responsibility on his shoulders. "One of the guys dislocated his shoulder tonight. Again. We need all hands we can get to hold him down and pop the joint back in, so you're on lotion duty." With that he trusted the lotion into her hands and left her standing there.
She looked down at the lotion in her hands and then at Stephen's sweaty face. "Okay, so where do we go for this?"
"My dressing room," he told her. "It's just down the corridor. Fifth door on the left." His voice sounded strained like he was hurting, so she felt compelled to finally have a look at his injuries.
"Let me have a look." The way she said those words made clear that this was by no means an order, rather a question or a gentle request.
Stephen however, was less accommodating than usual. He turned his back away from her when she tried to look at it. Like a stubborn child he didn't want to let her know what had happened to him and how much pain he was really in.
"Come on, Farrelly, don't be an ass, I'm just trying to help," she told him with a frown on her face.
"You're going to fuss. That's not gonna help," he told her matter-of-factly.
"I promise I'm not going to fuss." He still didn't look convinced. "Cross my heart...," she actually made the gesture.
"All right," he conceded eventually and let her have a look at his back. Just in time she reminded herself not to suck in her breath. The doctor had been right. It really looked bad. A zigzag pattern of welts marred his white skin. His fair complexion made the red marks stand out even more. She could even see the imprint of the belt buckle somewhere.
"Let's head to your dressing room," she said simply, suddenly feeling somewhat exhausted.
Fortunately his dressing room was really just a few steps away. They went inside; he closed the door behind them. The room was small and Spartan. There were two chairs, a small mirror and a table upon which she spotted his duffle bag.
Stephen promptly turned in front of the mirror and regarded the welts on his own back for the first time. "Bugger!" he swore. "Well, that's a sight for sore eyes." He was taking the situation very lightly, like being hurt was a minor inconvenience and something that happened a lot. It made her stomach lurch because she realized that for him it had to be like that. Wrestlers did suffer a lot of injuries. It was one thing being aware of it and an entirely different matter witnessing it first-hand. Out of her sense of self-preservation she decided to approach the whole situation from a practical perspective, not an emotional one. If she got emotional now, they would be screwed.
He heard the telltale screeching of chairs being dragged over the floor and turned around to look at her. She had arranged the chairs to stand behind each other. He looked at her questioningly. In her right and she was holding the bottle of lotion, in the left a towel from his bag.
"You wanna grab a shower before we rub on that lotion? Seems kind of stupid to do it the other way round," she said, handing him the towel. He winced as he took it from her. It wasn't a pleasant sensation when the muscles in his back moved underneath those welts.
"Come on, off you go. I'll be here when you get back," she told him. He nodded stiffly and took his bag with him, for once carrying it in his hand instead of slinging it over his shoulder. It just didn't seem like such a good idea now.
When he was gone, she sat down on one of those chairs and let her head sink to the table with a tired groan. "He's going to be the death of me. This man's really going to be the death of me," she said quietly into the empty room.
Her future cause of death, aka Stephen, came back about twenty minutes later and found her reading something on her cellphone. He had changed into his street clothes, though getting into that shirt he was wearing hadn't been such a pleasant experience. Now he would have to take it off again and try not to groan as much, because he didn't want to alert her to the fact that that he was in quite a bit of pain.
He started unbuttoning his shirt which felt awkward even though he had been prancing around in front of her wearing his wrestling gear minutes ago. His behavior was rather ridiculous and hypocritical, considering that his wrestling gear consisted of nothing more than a pair of trunks and boots.
When the shirt was unbuttoned and he was just about to take it off, she surprised him with her insightfulness. "Wait, I'm going to help you," she said softly and helped him out of his sleeves.
Nina folded the shirt and placed it over the desk. She turned around to face him again. "Sit down on that chair. I'm going to put some lotion on you."
The chair in the front was standing there with the backrest facing away from him. So obviously this was where she wanted him to sit down. He did as he was told and she took the chair behind him. He could hear her open that bottle of lotion and distribute some of it on her hands.
Very gingerly her fingers touched his shoulder. He flinched. They were cool against his skin which felt warm and burned like someone had poured acid over it.
"Relax!" she told him. Due to the proximity of her voice, he realized that she was now standing directly behind him. Apparently the chair had been too low.
Again her fingers touched his skin. This time even more cautiously than before, if that was at all possible. As she rubbed the lotion on his skin in soothing circular motions, the pain started to lessen.
He closed his eyes and leaned forward to place his arms on the backrest and rest his chin on them. She was slowly working her way down from his shoulders to his lower back. The sensation of pain faded more and more into the background and he slowly became aware of the fact that her soft fingers were stroking his skin and massaging lotion into it. By now she had distributed the lotion on his entire back. Her palms came to rest in his shoulder blades.
"All done," she said quietly. Her voice was low and close to his ear. "Better?"
"Yeah," Stephen cleared his voice. "Thank you, a mhuirnín," he said softly and got up.
He turned around to look at her. She was standing there in front of him, her hands glistening with the remainders of the oily lotion she had rubbed on his back.
"A mhuirnín?" she repeated the Gaelic word with some difficulty.
"Means 'my darling' in Gaelic," he told her almost shyly and started rummaging in his bag for a clean towel. He eventually found one and started cleaning her hands with it.
"Why do you have to make it so hard to stay mad at you?" she sighed in resignation.
"Because I'm that charming, I hope," he supplied. He was toweling off each of her fingers with meticulous care. Eventually he was done and threw the towel on the table beside them. "There," he said with a satisfied smile.
"Thanks," she said softly. He still held onto her hands. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure...," he said cautiously. He didn't like the fact that she was all serious and frowning.
"Why do you do this job? Is it because you like the adrenaline? Or because it pays well? Why?"
"Where do those questions come from all of a sudden?" He had let go of her hands by now.
"Do you really have to ask? Why don't you take another look at your back?" she leaned against the table behind her and regarded him expectantly. He still owed her an explanation.
"You're aware that that is a tough one, right?" she nodded and motioned him to continue. He took a deep breath. It was hard putting something into words that was that complex, but for her he tried to make an effort. "There are multiple reasons. One of them is: I do this job because I love it. Can you imagine what kind of a rush it is to have people cheering at you because you've given them a great show?" He regarded her face for a moment expectantly. Of course she couldn't. Even he hadn't been able to imagine what this job was like until he had accepted it. He tried a different approach. "This job is tough, it's challenging and dangerous, but I wouldn't have it any other way. It's what I am good at. It's what I love. That's why I'm doing this job," he explained.
There had been something passionate in his voice that appealed to her and made her believe him. Still she had a hard time understanding why he did what he did.
"But don't you have any sense of self-preservation? Most people wouldn't be walking around thinking 'Well, what am I going to do today? Hmm, it's Monday. I know! I'll have a colleague put me through a table.' In case you forgot. Normal people don't do that kind of insane shit because it hurts and it's sort of crazy," she tried to reason with him.
"You haven't become aware of that in the last couple of months? How did that manage to escape your notice while you were making up storylines for two wrestlers?" he asked giving her a pointed look.
"Well, yes I have," she admitted becoming a bit fluster. His remark had hit a nerve. "But now the insanity is sort of closer to home because of us," she replied.
"What about us?" he asked conversationally, inspecting his nails as he was feigning complete ignorance.
"You know fully well, Steve. Don't try to digress from the topic."
"Al right," he agreed dejectedly. "You can't blame me. The one you've picked isn't a very pleasant one."
"Why?"
"Because it's about whether you can live with me doing what I do or not. There is a lot of stuff riding on that..."
"I know," she said gravely.
"Well, can you?" he looked at her directly now, his face was for once completely serious. No smiles. He was just waiting for her answer, prancing himself for the worst possible outcome.
"Can I live with you doing your job? Yes, I think I can. Can I pretend not to mind when you suffer an injury as a result of doing that job? No," she shook her head vehemently. "Because it would mean I don't care about you, which is definitely not true. I care about you a lot, so I can't give you a thumbs-up and a smile when you pull stupid stunts like that."
"I don't expect you too. The only thing I want is for you to accept that it's part of the package," he told her, studying her face as he said those words to her. "Can you do that?"
She briefly looked down and then met his eyes again. "I'm here, aren't I? Haven't I just rubbed lotion on all those welts? That looks pretty accepting to me."
"Yeah, it does," he smiled and noticed how she almost shyly averted her gaze when she looked at him now. There was a soft blush on her nose which made his smile turn into a grin.
"Why are you blushing?" he asked.
"'Cause I've just realized a handsome, half-naked Irishman is standing right in front of me. Actually has been for the last 20 minutes or so," she admitted, blushing even more as she said those words. "That takes some getting used to."
"Maybe it should happen more often," he told her and took the opportunity to clasp her hands in his.
His thumbs traced over her wrists. Underneath them he briefly felt her pulse. It seemed to be rather quick, but maybe he was wrong about that. He noticed how her eyes that had before settled on their entwined hands, travelled up his arms and from there to his chest.
She let out a nervous chuckle. "You know, this is kind of funny. At the office we have this huge Extreme Rules poster of you in the entrance hall. You are wearing even less in that than you are now. So how come I can walk passed it every day and it leaves me unaffected while standing next to you does this to me?"
"Wanna let me in on what 'this' is?" he asked.
She chewed her bottom lip pensively before she eventually shook her head. "No. Let's just say it's the opposite of unaffected and leave at that, okay?"
"The opposite of unaffected. Really?" he raised his eyebrow. "That's quite something." He whistled through his teeth. The blush he had noticed before was now also beginning to spread on her cleavage. He tried not to ogle, but it was difficult, especially since any flushed area of her skin was like an exclamation mark with the rest of it being so pale.
"Really," she confirmed. "And I'm quite surprised by that. I'm usually not into muscles."
"Maybe you're with the wrong guy then," he smirked at her.
She frowned at him. "I'm not with you because of your muscles."
"Why are you with me then?" he asked. The sincerity in his gaze made her pause.
She looked away for a second. She was biting her lips, apparently unsure of whether she was supposed to answer him or not. "You really want me to say that now?" she looked at him sort of shyly. This was unusual for her. He knew her as someone impulsive, energetic, cheeky, determined, witty, but definitely not shy.
"Yeah, why not?"
"Well, because it's sort of complex. It's not something simple like "I like you because you're handsome" or "I like you because you make me laugh"... I'm not even sure that makes sense." It was ironic how she the writer was struggling with words. It must have occurred to her too because she let out a frustrated groan.
"Gosh! This is irritating! Don't look at me like that. Why don't I take off my top and we'll see how much sense you'll be making?" she glared at him.
"By all means. Go ahead!" He crossed his arms over his chest which made his muscles more pronounced.
"Oh, just put on a shirt and stop gloating, will you?" She lightly swatted him on the upper arm.
"All right," he laughed and reached for his shirt. For the first time in a good couple of minutes he was suddenly and rather unpleasantly reminded of the welts on his back.
She noticed him flinching as he put his arm through the right sleeve of his shirt and quickly moved to help him into the other one.
Normally he was very self-sufficient and wouldn't have tolerated being mothered by anyone, but he knew she was not doing it out of pity. She was doing it because she wanted to, so he let it happen without making a fuss.
He never uttered a word of protest not even when she swatted away his fingers and buttoned the shirt up. She even rolled up his sleeves like it was the most natural thing in the world and he watched her with a tender expression on his face.
"There you go," she said when she was finally finished.
"Thank you," he told her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close to kiss the top of her head.
They had agreed to meet up later at his hotel room. Of course "later" was a rather unspecific time. She had tried to get something less vague out of him. He had just shrugged his shoulders, not being very helpful. "Any time you like," he told her.
So now here she was softly knocking at the door, hoping that he would soon open it because her other hand, which was holding a champagne bucket filled with ice cubes minus the champagne, was about to freeze off. She had decided not to bring any champagne because that would have been way too tacky and she wasn't sure it was a good idea mixing the sexual tension between them with alcohol. Yes, she found him very attractive, but she preferred to take it slow, especially with all those complications waiting to bite them in the ass.
The door was opened and her pensiveness evaporated when she laid eyes on him. "Hi." He smiled at her, but that smile was soon replaced by a puzzled look when his eyes landed on the bucket of ice she was carrying around.
"What's that for?" he asked as she sauntered past him to deposit the bucket on the next best surface available which happened to be some nondescript little glass table that served as decoration for the hotel room.
She shook her hand and turned to look at him. "For your back?" she supplied with a grin. "I'm being supportive."
"So you're that desperate to get me shirt off again?" He smiled, closing the door to the corridor.
"Ooooh! Careful, hot shot! Not that desperate. We can also stuff those ice cubes down your pants if you need some cooling down," she grinned.
"You wouldn't dare to," he told her and took a step towards her.
"What makes you say that? Obviously you don't know me all that well." With a smile she took one step towards him as well. There was something mischievous about her smile which had him on his toes. She slung her arms around his waist. He looked down at her with raised eyebrows. It was a wordless enquiry after what she was up to. Her right hand abruptly tugged up his shirt, while her left hand delved underneath it and touched the naked skin of his back. Her palm was ice-cold. He sucked in his breath trying not to make any unmanly high-pitched sounds.
"A bit chilly," he told her with practiced nonchalance.
"Your skin feels like it's on fire," she told him looking at him through narrowed, disapproving eyes. She put her other hand under his shirt to make sure that she hadn't been wrong in her initial judgment because of her cold hand. "No, still rather warm. Take off your shirt," she instructed.
"You make that sound so seductive," he joked, but nevertheless started unbuttoning his shirt.
"I'm here on nurse duty, sweetheart," she admonished him. "Hence the ice cubes."
"I see," he smirked, clearly amused by her antics. "Where do you want me? You can have me anywhere you like. Couch? Bed? Floor?" He threw the shirt at her with a smirk and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"Are you flirting or teasing?" She threw him a stern gaze.
"A bit of both actually," he watched her deposit his shirt on the little table where she had put the ice bucket before, which she was now holding in her hands again.
"Well, then I'm sure you won't mind if I tease you right back a little," she winked at him. "I think...," she tapped her index finger against her chin pensively, "I'll go with the bed. Lead the way, my little Irish stud."
Stephen actually laughed at that term of endearment. He rather liked the mood she was in tonight. As always she was rather upfront, but there was a certain playfulness to her bluntness.
He turned and led her to the bedroom. Automatically her eyes travelled over his injured back and took inventory. It did already look better than this afternoon. Perhaps, if he was lucky, most of those welts would have faded in a couple of days. But for some reason she couldn't see him sleeping on his back tonight.
They were inside the bedroom now. It was modern and cream colored. There was a huge window front next to the king-sized bed. His room was roughly the same as hers; just that it was overlooking the city and not the parking lot.
He didn't switch on the light and she supposed that it was just as well. The bluish twilight inside the room would be enough for them.
Without her needing to say something he stretched out on the bed with his back facing up. He propped up his chin on his arms, so the muscles on his back were more pronounced.
She hesitated, but only for the fraction of a second. Just like this afternoon they were yet again crossing another boundary here. This thing going on between them, whatever it was, was becoming increasingly more intimate and leading to a point of no return.
Nina made a decision and took a step forward. She kicked off her shoes and positioned the ice bucket on the bedside table, so it was comfortably within reach.
The mattress dipped slightly under her weight. She reached inside the ice bucket and took out one single ice cube. For a few seconds she held it in the palm of her hand and it quickly became coated in water.
"Here it comes," she said, bringing the ice cube down on his skin. He let out a hiss followed by a little "ah" sound that made her insides tingle. Her palm formed a cup around the ice cube and she started rubbing it over his skin in slow circular motions. It left a trail of water in its wake.
"How does that feel?" she asked. She had to wait a little for a reply.
"Like I've died and gone to heaven," was his answer. His voice was soft and it appealed to a side of her she would have rather left outside of this room for today. She could feel desire stirring up inside her... again. She had tried to deny the fact that it had been there since he first kissed her, but at this point there was no more deny. She had to acknowledge it.
The slightest or tremors ran through her arm when she started moving it again. "This is a once in a lifetime thing. Better not get used to it," she told him in a gentle, yet admonishing voice.
She felt his muscles ripple underneath her hands when he turned his head in an attempt to look at her. He only briefly managed to make eye contact thanks to the position he was in. "The ice cubes or you being inside a bedroom with me?"
"The ice cubes," she sighed after a moment of careful contemplation.
He chuckled. The bed underneath them shook together with his chest. She raised the ice cube from his skin.
"What if I get a sunburn...," he teased.
"That's a stupid idea," she said softly. "You don't have to resort to self-mutilation. I'm quite positive it's enough to ask nicely if you like it this much." Some water trickled down her arm and onto his back. A shiver went through his body. She lowered the ice cube to his skin again.
"What else can I get if I ask nicely?" his questions had taken a dangerous turn now. They made her all too aware of the fact that this situation wasn't quite PG-13 anymore. He was lying half naked on a bed in front of her and she was rubbing an ice cube over his back too sooth his pain.
"I don't know...," she said with a soft smile. "Lots of things."
He turned around abruptly. A wave of adrenaline flooded her system as his fingers closed around her wrist and pulled her down towards his chest. "What about a kiss?" he asked. "You haven't kissed me properly ever since the airport."
"'Cause I don't want this to spin out of control," she said. He had by now let go of her hand. It was resting on his naked chest. She became aware of it and wanted to pull it back; he placed his over it and held it in place.
"Why?" He asked.
She licked her lips. "Because I'm risking a lot here. There is work - Yes, but that's not the thing I worry about most... It's that I tend to be too impulsive, or maybe that's the wrong word... Too enthusiastic? I dive into things head first and sometimes I end up cracking my skull open. I don't want us to mess this up. I want to do this properly, like an adult."
He smiled at her words and raised her hand to his mouth to kiss it. His whiskers felt rough against the back of her hand, but not unpleasant. "So we're going to talk about what this is then and admit that this is serious..."
She smiled. Her white teeth flashed in the twilight of the room. "Serious? How serious exactly?"
"Very," he said quietly. Her smile grew bigger. She leaned down to kiss him. His mouth opened underneath hers invitingly, the tips of their tongues touched, he pulled her closer against his chest, she felt his heart racing as her torso was pressed flush against his.
"Stephen..." She probably meant to admonish him, but his name was almost a moan when it fell from her lips and woke up something primal inside him. His imagination supplied him with a lot of vivid pictures of other incidents during which she could be calling out his name like that. He balled his hands into fists and tried to keep his composure. He was quite good at that. After all he had to carefully reign in emotions like anger and fear in the ring every day. Desire was new to him, but he would try for her.
"Nina...," he said softly. They silently regarded each other for a while in the twilight before he pulled her down against his chest.
"We've still got miles to cover before we get there," his hand patted her back in reassurance. He could feel her cheek resting against his sternum and the hot gusts of her exhales on his skin.
"Miles?" He heard her ask with a smile. "Honey, looks like a very short distance from where I am... We're lying in your bed in a hotel suite and you've got no shirt on."
He laughed. "And I also have a bruised back which makes it hard for me to lie down longer than twenty minutes..."
"Oh, sorry! I should...," she said as she became aware that right now she was forcing him to be lying down on the aforementioned injured back. Nina started to sit up, but he quickly grabbed her and pulled her back down.
"No, you stay."
"Okay," she said and sounded rather happy about it.
They were silent for a while and enjoyed the feeling of lying there in each other's arms.
"Those ice cubes are melting," he informed her regretfully and she could hear their telltale rattle when he peeked over the edge of the bucket.
"Yeah..," she answered, unsure why he was pointing something that obvious out to her.
"Take off your top," he told her abruptly.
"Excuse me?" Her wide brown eyes met his blue ones and registered the playful sparkle in them with a certain preoccupation.
"Hell, this is going to end badly...," she summed up the situation.
He laughed at her and shook his head. "Maybe for me because I'll need a very cold shower afterwards, but not for you."
"What are you up to?" She asked suspiciously.
"I'm a very polite fella, I wanna return the favor." He could have tempted the devil to start singing in a church choir with that smile and Nina had no chance whatsoever against it as well.
"Ok," she finally agreed after a moment of hesitation.
She sat up slowly. She could feel his eyes follow the movement of her hands. She grabbed the hem of her top and tugged it over head. Underneath she was wearing a simple black bra. When she looked at him, she could see how his eyes were mesmerized with her breasts. He was only a man after all.
Nina reached out her hand and gently placed her fingers under his chin. "Eyes up, Steve," she told him with a smile.
"I'm not going to say sorry for that," he informed her with a smirk.
"You don't have to."
Nina shivered when he touched her bare shoulders and gently turned her around. She stretched out on the bed, resting her chin on the back of her arms. The sheets smelt like him and her nostrils quivered slightly at her next intake of breath.
The mattress dipped when he leaned forward to grab an ice cube from the bucket and sat down again. The sudden sensation of something cold and watery against her skin was unpleasant at first, but then she focused on the way his hand was moving over her back and her eyes drifted shut. She let out a small moan-like sound that expressed some of the profound contentment she felt. The hand on her back faltered, but then resumed its previous activity.
The ice cube was gliding over her skin in curves that formed upstrokes and downstrokes. "Are you writing something?" she giggled.
"Yeah, me name," he told her.
Nina laughed. "You're such a big child. Marking your territory, huh?" She turned as well as she could to have a proper look at him.
"Yeah, gotta be on me toes. You're too beautiful and smart not to turn any heads," he told her.
"I don't want to turn any heads. I'm in quite enough trouble as things are right now..."
"Trouble?" he quirked an eyebrow.
"Yeah, as in you..."
He smiled and gently turned her on her back. The ice cube was still in his hand. He traced it over her belly and when he was finished, its trail of condensation water formed some little swirls and circles that were glistening in the twilight.
"Very artistic," she smiled and there was a light quiver in her voice that told him she was only playing it cool. "And also very cute," she added, looking at him through hooded eyes.
The ice cube slipped from his fingers when he leaned down to press one single chaste kiss to the skin left and right of her belly button. Her body trembled underneath his lips. When he looked up, he saw that she was breathing rather fast now.
He kissed her. The kiss was passionate, open mouth and took a turn towards desperate and frantic as soon as tongues got involved. He felt her squirm underneath him. Her body arched up into his, she was making sounds that drove him crazy. The only thing that put a damper on what was happening was the fact that it hurt whenever she touched his back. Not enough to let him break the kiss, but just enough to keep his mind functioning and not let his entire intellectual capacity migrate to a place much lower.
His instincts told him to continue, to go through with this, but his rational mind told him "no". He wanted to be fully functioning when they did this and not flinch back every time she touched his back. Right now even holding her was off the menu because he was in pain.
He rolled off of her and stretched out on the mattress with a groan. "Damnú aír!"
As to be expected her slightly concerned face soon hovered over him.
"I assume that isn't a term of endearment..."
"Oh, no. Definitely not," he said between clenched teeth, trying to fight down his bodily reaction to their snogfest.
"Should I go?" she asked him, sounding a little worried.
"No. You're staying," he ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "I can't believe I'm actually saying this. I must have completely gone daft now, but maybe you should put your top back on."
"Steve?" she looked at him, taking in his disheveled hair and the despairing expression on his face. Her heart was melting for him and that wasn't a pun in reference to the ice cubes.
"Yeah? What?"
She leaned down and pressed a single lasting kiss to each of his temples. "Thank you."
"Whatever for, a mhuirnín? For leaving both of us hot and bothered without being able to follow through?"
"It's because of your back, right?" she threw him an ironic smirk.
"What else could it be?" he looked at her with a frown.
"Oh, I don't know...," she grinned smugly. "Ever heard of erectile dis..."
She didn't get to finish the sentence. He pulled her on top of him, so that her whole body was pressed flush against his. "You wanna finish that sentence now, lass?" The situation at hand did nothing to dissolve the sexual tension between them. Judging by the look on her face, it had gone from surprise to something else, her situation wasn't much different from his. He cautiously called the expression on her face "something else", because if he did start to analyze what the fact that she licked her lips and looked down meant, he would lose control.
"No, I don't," she croaked out eventually. He loosened his hold on her and she slowly almost reluctantly rolled off of him.
He let out another groan of frustration and hit the mattress with his fits. More cursing in Gaelic ensued.
She could very much relate to how he was feeling. "If it helps any, I kind of feel the same," she admitted quietly.
He looked at her, blinking slowly a couple of times. "Don't say that. That only makes it worse."
"Well, what am I supposed to say then?"
"We could talk about the penis fish and how it likes to get nice and comfy in men's langers," he suggested, with desperation edged in his voice.
She actually laughed at his remark and kissed his forehead. "You're even funnier when you're horny."
"Yeah, orgasms with me are a laugh riot. You should give it a try," he shot back.
"Maybe I should put my top back on," she smiled.
"Yes? No? Kill me now, please," he said rubbing his hands over his face in frustration.
"No, not gonna happen. That would be such a waste," she smiled and pulled her T-shirt over her head. He commented her action with yet another frustrated groan.
"How's your back?" Nina tried to distract him.
"A bit better."
"You think you'll be able to sleep on it?" She sat down at the mattress next to him.
"Yes."
She gave him a pointed look.
"Alright. No," he admitted. "Happy?"
"No, but I've got an idea...," she smiled at him and there was something every so subtly preoccupying about that smile.
"What? Pain killers?"
"Alcohol," she suggested.
"You're sure getting drunk is such a good idea?" He sat up. She was sitting across from him Indian style. There was a beaming smile on her face.
"I think it's an excellent idea. It'll distract us from... Well, each other. We'd be out and about and among other people. Plus, your back would hurt less...We'd just need a chaperon or chaperones to pull this off... How about you give Stu and Chris a call?" Her face was lightening up even more as she revealed her plan to him.
