From Here To Paternity

by Merel

Lee begins the adventure called Fatherhood

4. The Rest of Our Lives

Title:From Here To Paternity – Part 3

Author:Merel

Rating:M

Summary:This is both my part of the anthology challenge on SMK17 Yahoogroups AND the next installment of 'From Here to Paternity'. For those that haven't read FHTP (or its prequel, 'Great Expectations'), you don't need to. This story, as with all the chapters of FHTP, can stand alone. The items that were forced . . . er . . . delegated to me for this story were: a cedar chest, a bullhorn, and a blindfold.

Disclaimer: Don't own them (Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Production Company have that thrill), don't make money off them (not sure anyone does at this point), and don't abuse them . . . too much.

Feedback:As always. Feedback is encouraged, demanded, and pretty much required if you want me to keep writing.

Archive:This story will be archived with the other anthology stories and also at the Blue Boxers website ( .com). All others, please ask first

Author'sNote:Many thanks to eman for helping out with the beta on this one. She always manages to push me to my limits and beyond. One day we'll figure out if this is a good thing . . . or not :) I'd also like to thank Pam for her continued support and tolerance of my inability to spell or punctuate anything correctly.

The door closed behind her with soft click as Amanda entered the silent peace of her bedroom. Leaning back against the door, she closed her eyes. The chaos of the day had finally come to an end. Phillip was off to the movies with his latest crush, Jamie was "roughing it" in the back yard of his best friend, Ben, and Lauren was bathed, nursed, changed, and tucked in her crib, sound asleep. Lee was working late and would be home soon, and Amanda realized that for a few fleeting moments she had time to herself.

She turned down the bed then went to wash her face and brush her teeth. She slipped into her now favorite sleep ensemble - an old cotton t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms – before preparing to slip into the haven of cool sheets and downy pillows that awaited her. Just as her head hit the pillow, she remembered the conversation she'd had with her mother the other day. She'd promised to find something for her – promised she'd have it for her tomorrow when she came by for Sunday brunch. Lee had reminded her twice already, but she'd keep putting off.

Sighing, Amanda pulled her body from the bed and padded across the carpeted floor. Crouching in front of an old cedar chest, Amanda trailed her fingertips lovingly across the scarred wood and over the dented metal hinges. For all its travels, the old chest still wore its age well. While no one would mistake it for new, they would also not guess that the treasured piece of furniture had begun

its journey over seventy -five years ago. Her grandfather had built the chest as a wedding present for his bride. She in turn had handed it down to her oldest daughter, Dorothy, on the occasion of her sixteenth birthday. Amanda had staked her claim to the chest at the tender age of ten, when she'd proclaimed it a perfect home for her dolls.

Now, nearly thirty years later, Amanda's fingers worked the front latch of the old chest, opening it slowly. The hinges creaked and moaned a bit, making clear their grievance at being bothered after so many years of disuse. Amanda pushed the top fully open, her nose wrinkling slightly at the faint scent of cedar and stale mothballs.

It had been years since Amanda had peeked inside the old chest. Anticipation bested fatigue as her eyes scanned the items, her mind tracing the memories each one held. After she had relegated her dolls to the attic, the antique had served as a sort of "hope chest" – A place to store a young girl's treasured keepsakes and memorabilia. Within a few years it was the home to numerous dried prom, homecoming, and winter ball corsages, not to mention the scruffy, tattered notes that had been stuffed into her locker from boys whose names she thought she would remember forever, but nevertheless soon forgot.

Programs from school plays, recitals, graduation, and honor society banquets were scattered to one side of the chest, where the silver brush and comb set her Aunt Deirdre had given her on her sixteenth birthday, tarnished and wrapped in an old piece of felt, acted as their paper weight. Her mother's wedding veil and the white, starched handkerchief from her father's wedding suit lay, side by side, mingling their memories as her parents' love had for almost twenty years.

She removed the items, one by one, from their resting place. She laughed lightly as she recalled the innocence of past childhood pastimes, pulling free a skate key tied to a long length of graying shoe lace and the torn and stained game boxes of Candyland, Chutes and Ladders, and Pin the Tail on the Donkey. The chest was a veritable haven of "this" and "that."

Amanda continued searching until, finally, beneath her old, tattered pompons, she saw it. A bundle of tissue paper tied with a pink satin ribbon. Pulling the fragile package free, she sat back on her haunches, quickly unwrapping the bundle and laying it open upon her lap. Her eyes softened, and she smiled, her fingers tracing the delicate tatted lace, which, while yellow with age, was still beautiful in its handmade intricacy. Satin and tiny seed pearls shimmered against the aged tissue that encased and protected the beloved garment.

Amanda tossed off the tissue and unfurled the elaborate christening gown to its full length. It was the gown she had worn as an infant, as had her mother, and her mother before her . . . and next Sunday, her daughter, Lauren Allyson Stetson, would wear it when she was christened.

Amanda was so engrossed in inspecting the gown, she missed the creaking of the door and the soft footfall of her husband as he walked up behind her. She started slightly when he leaned over her shoulder, bending down to kiss the back of her neck, but relaxed immediately at the feel of his soft lips upon her skin.

"Your secret treasure trove?" His eyes traveled to the open chest, while his lips meandered their way down the smooth column of her neck.

"Well, I don't know how secret." Amanda smiled up at him, enjoying the warmth of his breath on her neck. "Just a place to store some childhood memories . . . things I didn't want to throw out."

Lee smiled at her, his eyes moving from her face to again peruse the contents of cedar chest. An eyebrow cocked, and he reached over her, pulling out an item that had caught his eye.

"Have a lot of fun with this, did you?" Lee held up a white plastic bullhorn emblazoned with the words "Go Stallions" in bright blue lettering.

"Give me that." Amanda grabbed the bullhorn and tossed it back into the chest.

"Just when I thought I knew everything there was to know about you . . ." Lee grinned slyly, once again reaching to rummage through the contents of the old chest.

"Stetson, I don't care how many background checks you run on me, you'll never learn all my secrets," Amanda smirked, glancing up over her shoulder at her husband.

"Oh, I don't know," Lee smiled back at her coyly, his fingers fumbling with and finally freeing another item from the chest. "I bet I could uncover a thing or two." He held his fist in front of her face, his fingers slowly uncurling to reveal a bunched up ball of cotton fabric. Amanda blinked, then leaned forward, squinting to get a better view. Slowly, Lee allowed the ball of fabric to unfold. Dangling gracefully from his fingertips was a blindfold. Amanda's eyebrows rose, her mouth fell open, and her eyes followed the blindfold as it swayed provocatively back and forth before her nose. At last, as if breaking free of a spell, she reached up and snatched it from his grasp.

"That's from a game," she huffed, balling up the blindfold and tossing it back in the chest. "Oh, I bet," Lee chuckled.

"Lee." Amanda's tone admonished his innuendo while the deep rose of her cheeks betrayed the twinge of excitement the teasing had stirred in her belly.

She fel t his hands tighten briefly on her shoulders and then, just as quickly, his touch was gone. Glancing up, she watched as he backed up a step to stand behind her. His stance was relaxed, his smile soft and sincere, but she sensed a tension in him nonetheless. The tightening of his jaw and the intensity of his hazel gaze gave clue to his uneasiness and she was about to question it when he spoke, "You found it," Lee stated, leaning over her and peering down at the cherished piece of clothing Amanda still held in her arms.

"Yes. . . " Amanda smiled up at him. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Lee squatted down next to his wife, his long, tapered fingers smoothing the folds of the soft satin. His eyes never left her face. "Yes, it's lovely."

Amanda turned her eyes away from the pull of his gaze. "I never thought I'd get a chance to use it," Amanda murmured, once again fingering the cloth. "Phillip wore Joe's christening gown, and Jamie wore one that my mother- and father-in-law picked up in Ireland on their 25th anniversary."

Lee lowered himself to the floor, moving to sit behind Amanda. He pulled her back into his arms, sighing as she rested her weight against his chest, her head nestling under his chin. "It's perfect for Lauren," he whispered into her ear, his breath stirring the tendrils of her hair.

"Perfect," Amanda sighed, holding the gown to her chest. Lee crossed his arms over hers, his embrace warm and tender. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her back, the rush of his breath caressing her cheek. A shiver coursed its way down her spine as the rough, moist tip of his tongue traced the curve of her ear, his lips capturing and suckling the soft flesh of her earlobe.

"Lee," Amanda sighed, shivering as her husband wrapped his arms more firmly about her waist, his hands caressing her ribs and pulling her bottom snugly against him. There was no mistaking his arousal.

Lee's lips continued their gentle exploration of her earlobe, his tongue darting in and out of her ear as her now languid body listed dangerously to the right. Lee pulled his knees up, helping to support her body as his hands began an evocative exploration of their own.

"Ohhh, Lee," Amanda sighed deeply, relaxing further into the cay of his legs. Her voice trailed off as his hands ran from her hips up to her rib cage, his fingers just brushing the soft undersides of her breasts through her cotton t-shirt.

"This okay?" Lee asked, his voice soft as velvet.

"Yes," Amanda murmured, her senses overwhelmed by the feel of her husband's lips and hands on her body. It had been a long time since Lee had touched her like this. Nine weeks. Over nine weeks. Nine weeks, two days and four hours, to be precise. But who was counting?

Lauren's delivery had been rough on Amanda and the care and feeding of an infant had taken its toll on both of them, eating away at their energy and their private time together. At night they found themselves simply falling into bed, most times too exhausted to even roll over and kiss one another goodnight. Now Lee was back at work, and while he tried to help Amanda with Lauren in the evening and never missed his turn at the early morning feedings, he was all too often asleep on the couch before the evening news ended.

At her last check up, Dr. Brice had given Amanda a clean bill of health, and while the subject hadn't been specifically addressed, the note Penny handed her, outlining her next appointment with Lauren, also included a comment on the use of an alternate method of birth control until Amanda could go back on the pill.

So, that was that. She could have sex. She could definitely have sex.

She didn't want sex, but she could definitely have it.

For two days, she'd dreaded even talking about the subject with Lee. On the third, day she'd determined it was really none of his business. On the fourth day, she reasoned that he probably didn't want to have sex either. By the fifth day, she'd figured out exactly how much time they'd save if they never had sex again, and by the sixth day, she was seriously considered checking into the local psych ward.

She knew, in her rational mind, that what she was feeling was natural. Normal. She'd felt it before, after the birth of both Phillip and Jamie. But somehow it had been easier then. She was younger and her energy level had bounced back quicker. Also, Joe had been less involved with the boys' care, and it seemed easier for her to turn from him, make him wait, placing him at the end of her list of priorities. It was different with Lee. He was there with her, every step of the way.

She didn't want to make him less important, less a priority in her life. She didn't want to not want him. She just didn't know how make herself feel differently. To want him. To want sex.

Sex.

Why did it now sound so . . . so . . . clinical?

Perhaps because that was what her world had become since Lauren's birth? Clinical. Scheduled. Planned and programmed. It was like being some sort of wind-up toy set on automatic pilot. Nurse Lauren, burp Lauren, change Lauren, eat something, try to sleep, and then get up and do it all over again. Life was a routine, plain and simple, scheduled and run on the simple equation of Amanda plus Lee equaling the fulfillment of Lauren's every need. Her needs . . . Lee's needs, just never seemed to enter into the equation.

She had noticed, however, that in the last few days Lee seemed to be testing the sexual waters . . . pushing past the Stetson-King motto of "The Needs of Lauren Outweigh the Needs of the Two of Us." It wasn't like he'd jumped her or anything. It was just a certain look in his eyes as she came out of the bathroom after her shower the other night.

And later, she'd caught him watching her as she lotioned her legs. It was surprising to see him in bed and conscious, so at first it threw her. But then she recognized the look — passion — mixed with a liberal dose of exhaustion, yes, but passion nonetheless. Two minutes later, however, as she put the top back on her lotion, she heard the faint rumbling of his snores and she smiled softly in relief — and regret.

Then last night, he'd turned to her. Not in passion, not for sex, but in the simple, sweet, human need to touch. Before falling asleep, he had gathered her to him, pulling her close into the circle of his arms. As bone weary as she was, Amanda could sense that he just needed to have her near him .

. . not two feet away under the covers, but next to him. As his arms tightened around her and his breathing settled into the familiar pattern of sleep, she could feel the tension ease from his body.

That's when it happened. Just when she feared it might never happen again. A spark. A tiny spark. There were no fireworks. No brass bands, no clanging cymbals. Just a tiny spark, lighting the tired darkness of her soul and warming her heart. She'd thought it would take a romantic dinner, a shared scented soak in a hot tub, champagne, candles, roses . . . but no, it simply took him . . . next to her . . . holding her as he fell asleep.

That image, as well as any other conscious thought, was dashed from her mind as Lee turned her to face him and then slowly lowered her to the floor. Tenderly he took the christening gown from her hands and pushed it aside, then he stretched out on his left side next to her.

Crooking his elbow and resting his head on his left hand, his right hand reached to tenderly caress Amanda's cheek. Her eyes were caught, trapped in the strength of his gaze, as his fingers traced the contours of her jaw to her chin and then back up, his fingers tangling in her brunette curls.

"I love you," he spoke the words softly, but with an intensity that thrilled her. His hazel eyes never leaving hers, his fingers continued to massage her neck, causing shivers of anticipation to course through her.

"I love you." Having feared her voice would betray her, she was surprised at its strength. She watched as Lee's eyes softened at her words, and continued to watch as he closed his eyes and leaned in to her, pressing his lips to the valley between her breasts. His hot, moist breath penetrated the soft cloth of the t-shirt she was wearing, warming her skin and quickening her heartbeat.

The fingers of his right hand trailed their way over her shoulder and down her left arm, until he twined his fingers with hers and pulled her hand to rest on the carpet over her head. He moved his mouth from between her breasts, his lips finding a hardened nipple through the fabric of her shirt, his tongue circling it deliberately, slowly.

Her right arm snaked up, her fingers caressing the back of his head, her hand pressing him fully against her aching breasts. It had been so long since she had felt this way . . . felt the pressure and sweet ache of need for him to touch her, fondle her, caress her. To feel his mouth on her now, even through the barrier of clothing, nearly undid her, and she could feel the liquid rush of warmth flood her body, sluicing downward, spiraling towards her core.

Lee trailed his hand down her upraised arm, teasing the soft skin of her triceps, his fingers dipping into the armhole to squeeze and massage the taut muscle. Amanda trembled under his touch, and his hand continued its journey down her body, at last delving under the hem of her t-shirt, pushing it up to expose her breasts to the cool evening air and his hot gaze.

He released her hand, bringing his down to cup her left breast, his thumb tenderly circling the stiff nipple. He looked up at her then, and she smiled. "It's okay, that feels good," she whispered to

hi m. His thumb continued to massage her nipple, his eyes never leaving hers. Amanda exhaled

roughly, her eyes dropping to watch as his fingers teased her flesh. She watched as his lips, at last, lowered to taste her, his mouth softly suckling her.

Closing her eyes, she reveled in the feeling, giving herself up to the rough texture of his tongue working against her nipple as he sucked. She pushed her hands through the thick strands of his hair, at first clutching him to her and then guiding him to her other breast. For weeks, she had thought of her breasts only as utilitarian. Now, with Lee nuzzling against her, she could feel the excitement build within her, coiling about her chest and radiating downward to her pelvis and thighs. The muscles in her legs tightened in response, her toes literally curling in the sheer delicious delight of being tantalized and seduced and pleasured and aroused by this man.

She wanted nothing more than to reciprocate the wonderful feelings he was evoking within her. Her hand moved, following along the strong muscles of his back to his hip and moving between the two of them to find the growing bulge behind the fly of his jeans. She massaged his erection and smiled in satisfaction as it grew even harder beneath the tender manipulation of her fingertips.

At her action, Lee raised his head from her breasts, his eyelids heavy with passion. She watched him as her hand flicked the button of his jeans open, her fingers working the zipper down. She slipped her hand in and th rough the opening in his soft cotton boxers to grasp his erection. His sharp intake of breath and the narrowing of his eyes inspired her and she began to stroke him.

His breathing became harsh, his eyes closing as she fondled him. She knew she was bringing him close to the edge, and delighted in the fact that she had that power over him. Suddenly, he pushed her hand off of him.

"This is going too fast," he hissed, his breathing coming in hot puffs on her face.

Her hand reached for him again. "Fast can be good," she smiled as her fingers traced the ridge of his penis, then wandered down the length of him to cradle his testicles.

"Not this time," he grunted, his face red with the effort of warding off her adventurous hand once again. He pulled both her hands up and pinned them to the carpet over her head. "This time is going to be slow," he whispered to her, his lips almost touching hers. "Slow . . ." he paused to kiss her lightly. "And sweet . . ." he kissed her again.

"And sexy . . . " she supplied, before tracing the fullness of his bottom lip with her tongue.

"Most definitely." He caught her tongue, sucking on it lightly, then nipping kisses at the corner of her mouth as she smiled back at him.

"Most definitely," she agreed, closing her eyes, enjoying the roughness of his beard against her cheek.

"But, also, most definitely, in our bed." Her eyes flew open as he pulled away from her. Before she could react, he pulled her up off the floor and into his arms.

"Brilliant idea, Stetson. Wanna bring the blindfold?" she teased as he carried her across the room.

"Oh, no. I want to have my eyes on this situation," he smiled seductively at her, sitting her down on edge of their bed. He sat next to her, reaching for the hem of her t-shirt. "Speaking of having my eyes on something . . . how about we get rid of this?" He pulled the t-shirt over her head and tossed it across the room, leaving her upper body bare to his scrutiny. He cupped both breasts in his hands, his thumbs again tantalizing and teasing still taut and sensitive nipples.

Amanda, wanting to feel his skin against her, reached for the hem of his t-shirt and Lee raised his arms to help her remove the garment. She ran her hands over his broad, smooth chest, enjoying the feel of the strong muscles under his tanned skin. Her fingers traveled lower still and his breathing grew shallow, his muscles trembling in anticipation. She stood, pulling him up as well.

Catching her thumbs in the waistband of his jeans she pushed them off his hips, his boxers following suit. He kicked them aside and pulled her to him.

Lee's hands caressed her back, then moved lower to massage her soft, round bottom through the flannel of her pajama pants. Pulling back, his fingers ran teasingly under the waistband of her pants to the drawstring that held them. Making quick work of the bow she'd tied earlier, he pushed the soft flannel over her hips. He caressed her thighs and calves as he lowered the pajama bottoms and her panties down her legs. He knel t before her, his hands fondling her thighs and hips, as he kissed the softness of her stomach.

"I love you," he murmured against her skin.

Amanda ran her fingers through his hair, her hand capturing and cupping his chin, tilting his head up to look at her. "Me too, you," she said, grasping his shoulders to pull him up and into her arms.

She pressed the length of her naked body to his, the fit of him against her so exquisite, it was if she had found completion . . . of her life, of her soul.

She shifted her weight, falling back onto the bed, bringing Lee down on top of her. He broke the fall with his hands, but the weight of him still pushed her deep into the down comforter, and she savored the feel of his strong, masculine body covering hers.

"I want you," she breathed into his ear, feeling the heat of his erection pressing into her belly. "Now."

Amanda opened her legs and Lee settled between them. His right hand brushed down the length of her body, over the curve of her hip, and down the back of her thigh, pulling her knee up, her leg wrapping instinctively around his waist. She felt the muscles of his back and buttocks tense as he positioned himself and slowly entered her. She watched the flickering emotions on his face — love and lust, excitement and control, waging a battle across his features. His brows were drawn together, his eyes closed in concentration as he eased himself into her a bit more. She pulled her other knee up and he slid fully into her.

He opened his eyes and looked down at her. "Okay?"

Amanda answered by pulling his head down to hers, kissing him. As the kiss deepened, Lee began to move within her. Open mouths and moist flesh pressed together and came apart in a dance that while practiced, always seemed exciting and new. Slowly, sweetly, he made love to her, trying desperately to push them ever closer to the edge of thought, to the center of ecstasy.

Although he continued to thrust into her, Amanda could feel Lee holding back, trying valiantly to wait for her to join him before he reached his climax. But as wonderful as his lovemaking was, her body was simply not cooperating on this final issue. Realizing that it wasn't meant to be, Amanda encouraged him to let go, squeezing her thighs tightly against him, pulling him as deeply as she could inside her. Her movements broke through his last measure of control and she felt him release within her. Holding him close, she waited for him to relax, for his breathing to slow, for his heart to stop racing.

A few moments later Lee rolled to his side, pulling Amanda to her side to face him. "You didn't . . ." he began.

"It's okay; it was perfect." She kissed him, her hand holding tightly to his shoulder, her legs tangling with his. "It was more than perfect," she murmured against his lips. "I've missed this. I missed you." She paused, looking deeply into his eyes. "I've missed me . . . and the way you make me feel when you hold me and love me. Thank you for reminding me of that."

He pressed his forehead to hers and smiled. "I assure you, the feeling is very mutual. I can also assure you that I plan on reminding you of that for the rest of our lives."

"Sounds like a plan I can get behind." Amanda smiled, pulling Lee into another kiss and beginning the dance all over again.

TheEnd