The Words (takes place after Flatland)
"Amy, wait." She turned to look at Sheldon. "I'm sorry about what I said before. Because it wasn't true. I do hang off your every word."
She smiled again. "I know."
They did not make love that night. Instead, they ate the pizza, deciding together that even though it was good it was easier to order it. They stayed up past their usual bedtime watching Masterpiece together ('Only because Amy loves it so much, not because I was dying to know what happened next to Lady Edith,' Sheldon thought). They drifted to bed and drifted off to sleep, after a gossip session in which they questioned whether or not Bernadette would kill Howard before the baby came.
Sheldon awoke in the dark, slightly confused, and glanced at the bedside clock. Four-thirty. He rubbed his eyes. Why was he awake so early? He almost always woke up a few minutes before the alarm went off, his brain and body conditioned for the mental stimulation of work. But two whole hours?
Was it guilt? Shame? He knew, lying the dark, that he had behaved childishly last night. He should not have gotten so angry over a book. They were just words, after all, words on a page. Amy was just expressing her opinion. Although she seemed to have forgiven him. Or wasn't even really mad at him to begin with, he wasn't sure. Amy.
He nuzzled in closer to Amy. He loved Amy in the mornings. He loved her tangled, fuller hair. He loved the way her eyelashes lay across her cheeks. He loved the sound of her barely there snores. He loved the warmth of her body. He loved the smell of her skin. He took a deep breath of her. Amy.
Before he considered it, he was making circles on her hip with his palm. She murmured into the darkness and rolled over in his arms toward him. "Wha -"
"Shhh," he whispered in her ear. He thought he should apologize for waking her early on a work day and tell her to go back to sleep, but he didn't want to speak. Last night, he had told her he hung on every word she said. It was true. But last night, there were too many words. This morning, there was only one word upon which he wanted to hang. And only one infliction in which he wanted it spoken.
He kissed her, softly at first and then deeper. Then he pulled away, and loosened his grip. He was giving her the choice again, even though she had already rolled into him instead of batting his hand away from her hip.
Amy kissed him and grasped his pajama shirt. Her answer. She started to unbutton his shirt, and they worked together to remove their nightwear.
They met again in the middle of the bed, naked and warm. They kissed passionately, their mouths speaking to each other without words. Then Sheldon took her by the shoulders, and tried to encourage her to roll. Would she understand? He did not want to say it, he did not want to talk.
After a few seconds, Amy rolled. She had understood. This pleased him greatly. He hugged her from behind kissing her neck and shoulders and shoulder blades, using his hands on her breasts and stomach. She leaned deeply back into him, breathing hard, pressing against his arousal, an achingly wonderful feeling.
She took one of his hands and guided it down. He loved that, that Amy had understood his need for a version of silence. Appreciative for his height, he was able to pleasure her like this. He smiled deeply into her ear when she cried out. Kissing her ear, he gave her a moment to recover.
Ages ago, when it occurred to Sheldon that coitus could be more than just one act, that it could, in fact, include a lot of separate little acts including touching a woman like that, he had been horrified. This had seemed worse, somehow, then just the bathing suit areas meshing together. His hands, there, of all places, for goodness sake! Of course, at the time, coitus was not in his future so he put the disgusting thought away because it clearly would not be in his future, either. But then, and this always happened with Amy, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. Why wouldn't he want to touch her there? He wanted to touch her everywhere.
Sometimes he was jealous of Amy. She had all these secrets, hidden way from him, awaiting discovery. He always felt so obvious when Amy touched him. No secrets there. True, a couple of times she had stumbled upon something that had never crossed his mind that would be especially enjoyable, like that thing she did to his nipples. But, Amy, wonderful Amy, was a Pandora's box of delights, never fully opened. There was one delight he wanted to find again this morning.
Guiding with his hand, he rubbed the tip of himself against her bottom. Would she understand? She curled her legs up for him. She understood. Gently, he found his way into her, still holding her. He gave a couple of slow thrusts, allowing her adjust. She adjusted the angle of her legs once, and then again. The second adjustment was obviously the correct one, because she responded to his next thrust with a deep moan. He held her even tighter, and started moving faster. He remembered that is how she liked it this way, and he took great pleasure in her rattling moans.
Until she said the word he was longing to hear, just the way he yearned for it. It came out high and fast and full of exquisite joy. "Sheldon!"
Notwithstanding his previous wish for only one word, a moment later he said a word he had not expected to say. It came out long and low and full of sublime commitment. "Amy!"
He buried his face in her hair and took another deep breath. After their breaths slowed, Amy rolled over again and buried her face in his chest. They fell asleep that way, hanging off of each other.
Oh, my blushes!
Also, this chapter represents the beginning of another work in my Shamyverse, The Anniversary Evolution. As you might imagine, the chapter Year One takes places after this Book Club/After Dark pair. I hope you enjoy it!