AN: This was originally going to be a side story, but, well, I'm kinda too invested in the story to just let something that good stand apart from the rest. And thanks again to all my readers, followers, and reviewers. I know it's slow sometimes, but I hope it's worth it. Enjoy…
Joan might not want to hear it, but I remember it very well—the massage I gave you that night, and the warning you gave me after. It's not my fault you were so into it. On second thought, it probably was. A lot. But you weren't the only one who needed to be alone for a while after that. Maybe I should go back to the start on this.
—∞—
I had promised Elsa a massage, and after dessert she had dragged me into her room rather than mine. I thought it was odd, but it was simply that her bed was more comfortable. Falling melodramatically on top of her, I quickly decided that she was the most comfortable thing in the room. She berated me for teasing her as I sat up, unsure how to start. Well, I had every right to be unsure. I'd never really given anyone a massage before, let alone my girlfriend. And frustrated though we both were at the lack of sex, I simply wasn't ready. I had baggage, and was still working through it.
It didn't mean I wasn't attracted to her though—oh no, my body had made its wants quite clearly known. Which was why I had to fight so hard to hold myself back. She did, too, but I think she liked some element of the frustration I was causing. And my occasional teasing. I asked her if she wanted to undress first.
"Naked?" it wasn't trepidation in her voice, but hopeful excitement.
"I think it'll be easier if you're shirtless. And pants-less," I looked away just a little, knowing I couldn't hide my blush. As always, humour was my defense. "I'll try not to freeze you with my hands."
"Anniken, I am the ice-queen here," she smiled at me, pulling her sweatshirt over her head. I heard muffled cursing when her customary braid somehow got tangled up in it. With a sharp gasp and a belated 'ow', the offending item was thrown clear of the room entirely. She certainly had a good arm on her.
I gave her a sly smile. "Hey, Elsa, if you have that much trouble with your shirt, maybe I should help with your jeans."
Our blushes matched now, hers fading faster than mine, and after she had unbuttoned her jeans I hooked my fingers into the waistband and slid them down her legs. Slowly. Teasingly. On a whim I kissed her thigh, and suddenly she was very quiet. I looked up, but her eyes were closed, and an odd smile crossed her lips. I pulled her jeans past her knees, and then, with a flourish, removed them completely and left them in a heap on the floor. Only then did she make a move, her hands under my shirt, seeking to unhook my bra.
"You want me naked too?" I was a little unsure of myself. At that time I didn't have a huge amount of body confidence.
"Is topless okay?" It was that bashful little smile that did it. "You are very nice to look at."
"Maybe I should look at you some more, miss Frostad," I gave her a sultry wink—at least, I thought it was sultry. She laughed.
"My beautiful Anniken—you promised much more than looking at me, remember?"
"I did… but it's just…"
"It is okay if you want to leave the clothes on. I think I understand." She gave me the most devilish wink. "But I am still imagining you with them off."
"Well, if you're going to put that much effort into it anyway," I laughed, relieved, feeling that maybe it was okay to be topless here. I couldn't resist another quip as I took off my shirt. "I can't let you get any of the details wrong, can I?"
Elsa sat up to unhook my bra, carefully lowering it to the floor beside her bed. In turn, I unhooked hers—which, to be fair, was rather harder to do on another person. She made a quip about offering me some practice another time, I just gave her a look and gently pushed her back down onto the bed. I gestured for her to roll over, and for a moment she wore the most beautiful and seductive pout I had ever seen. I shifted on the bed, straddling her, sitting on her backside and lifting her braid.
As my fingertips played with the end of her braid, Elsa turned carefully to speak with me. "You like to play with my hair?"
"It's so fine," my fingers tugged gently at the ribbon holding it together. "I wish my hair was so manageable."
"I am lying here, beneath you, naked, and you compliment my hair?" but she was giggling as she spoke. She turned a little more, pointing at something. "There's a brush on my nightstand."
I turned to look where she was pointing. It was an old looking brush, wood handled, and well loved by the look of it. I leaned over to pick it up, moving just a little so my breasts brushed against Elsa's back. I heard a quiet sigh beneath me. Putting the hairbrush down on the bed, I carefully untied the ribbon keeping her hair bound. It took time to tease those platinum strands out between my fingers. I heard another sigh.
"Elsa?"
"Yes, Anniken?"
"I know I promised you a massage… so… do you want…?"
"I do not mind if you play with my hair," her voice was so soft, mellow. "I think you will pamper me. It will mean more."
I smiled, even though she was no longer looking at me. "Challenge accepted. I'm gonna make you feel like some kind of spoiled princess."
"Please…" I could hear the desire in her plea.
With one hand I finger-combed some platinum locks, then ran the brush down through them, trying to avoid any knots. I had to admit she had a lot of hair. A lot. It seemed such a shame knowing she would lose it before too long. I hoped she wouldn't be too proud to wear a wig. I would love her anyway, but in the wider world… or maybe she could get away with a rakish bandanna, though that was more my style. I said nothing through all this, simply stretching out and gently brushing her hair. Lustrous, platinum hair. Natural, too, given the colour went all the way to the roots. I should have figured it out before then, given the lack of dyes in the bathroom, but it was honestly something I'd never really given a lot of thought.
As I ran the brush down her hair, tugging softly at the occasional tangle, I began to gather strands again, planning to braid it back up. I thought better of it, grabbing a hair-tie from her nightstand, gathering her hair into a simple ponytail. I leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.
"I'll do some make-up too, if you want."
She turned to face me, pulling me into a deeper kiss. "Later, maybe." She laughed. "Plus, I might smudge on the pillows."
"So, what next then?" I was lying half on top of her—maybe not entirely comfortable, but I'm pretty sure she liked it. "Straight into the massage, your highness?"
"No," she laughed, surprising me with her deference. "A little foot rub first. I have been on my feet all day."
"Maybe I should wash them first," I wasn't sure if I was joking.
"They should not smell—too much," she rolled over beneath me, bringing us face to face. "But I admit I am liking the idea of being pampered. It would not be too much trouble?"
I gave it a moment's thought, then shook my head. "Of course not… but here?"
"You have a foot tub, or even a bucket?" I frowned. Of course I was going to have to improvise on a few things. But that didn't mean I was going to do anything less than my best.
"Give me a few minutes to get everything." I looked around her room, still quite bright. "Wait, should I get some candles too?"
"I do not think so," she reached out and turned on her reading lamp. "Just turn off the big light, this should be enough."
I did just that as I left. The sight of her in that low light, sprawled against the pillows practically naked. My breath caught, and I nearly tripped over myself in the hall. I shook my head and headed to the bathroom, gathering supplies. Towels. Soap. My odd little scrubbing brush. A loofah. One bucket to carry everything, and another to carry the water. I smiled, a new idea forming. Maybe her feet wouldn't be the only thing I washed before this massage—though she might complain if she had to change her sheets. More towels then.
Back in Elsa's room, and I held her left foot steady, gently working up a lather with the loofah and a little water. I had to fight to hold it steady, because it turned out she was actually quite ticklish. She was trying to keep it together, I knew, but she was also enjoying being… well… worshipped was probably not quite the right word, but it worked. Her feet were delicate—or at least they seemed that way. I could tell she took good care of herself, but still, I would have expected a dancer's feet to be far rougher, less refined. Her skin was flawless, too, and it made me kind of jealous. I splashed her foot with some water from the bucket to rinse off the soap, and then softly patted it dry with a towel.
I took her right foot, then began to scrub with my little brush, cleaning her sole and scrubbing any dirt from beneath her nails. I also managed to avoid getting kicked in the face from tickling her. Mostly because I'd decided lying across her legs would be safer. She had sat up shortly beforehand, and I felt fingertips against my spine, gently brushing across my back. I laughed under my breath. So she had problems with idle hands too. I shifted slightly so she wouldn't have to reach over so far.
"You do not mind?" her whisper was full of intrigue.
I shook my head. "When I said I'd give you a massage, I didn't say you couldn't touch me."
"It is implied with massage."
"We're adults, we can make our own rules. Now hold still, your foot still needs some cleaning."
I went back to my work, lathering up her foot with the loofah, wiping the lather around with my own slippery fingers. Splash, and dry. The water was still quite warm. I rolled off Elsa and knelt beside the bed, rinsing the loofah in the bucket. I wondered what to do next; how to keep the bed mostly dry. I had an extra fluffy oversized towel with me, and after getting her to sit up for a moment, had laid it under her. I grabbed the loofah and ran it up her legs, stopping mid-thigh. Half of me was tempted to get those briefs wet to see underneath. Half of me was of afraid of going too far if I did. Then there was the little part of me that said I hadn't earned anything like that kind of intimacy yet.
It didn't matter. With my bare hands I moved the lather closer and closer, the feeling of such smooth, supple skin filled me with a want I hadn't known I had. My fingers worked and gently kneaded the softer parts of that skin, drawing more than a contented sigh from Elsa. We were both lost to different worlds of sensation at that point. I had no qualms being only a giver this time. She had more than earned something like this, given how hard she was working. My hands returned to the bucket, and I knew I was going to get something too wet.
I shook my hands over the bucket, the water merely warm now, and followed the contours of Elsa's leg. With another towel, I patted her dry. I couldn't help noticing the scars down the side of that leg, even though they had healed so well. I knew they were my fault. A reminder of what I'd nearly done to her. A reminder of her darkest desire. I think I sniffled a little.
"Anna?" She lifted my chin with a finger, forcing me to look at her.
"Those scars… they're my fault."
"Yes, they are," she nodded, but there was no anger in her voice. "And I am glad I have them."
Wait, what? I must have looked like a rabbit in the headlights with that expression.
"Every day, they tell me that it was you." Well, of course it was me. Nobody else had managed to hit her with a motorbike. "That I am so lucky it was you, and not that car behind you. That it was you that cared. I remember how scared you were that you might have ruined my career when all I could think about was having survived—when I didn't want to. And it was you that kept coming back. Every time. You gave me a reason to live. You gave me hope. These scars remind me of that. I hated them at first, but now, what they represent… I can't help thinking of you, and all the good there is."
I just looked at her, tear tracks on my cheeks. I cried as she kissed me, so incongruous that she should comfort me while so naked—and yet, in that moment, it wasn't the lack of clothes that I noticed. It was the fact she had just openly and honestly told me what she thought about those scars. And about me.
I felt like the mood had changed somehow, and now wasn't the right time for any more. Until she spoke.
"It is okay if you want to go. I said I would not force you—but I would still like the touch of my friend. Even if we only lie here together, it will be enough."
"I… I guess I'm okay with that," I climbed up beside her on the bed, whisper-singing a few bars. "If I just lay here…"
"Would you lie with me… and just forget the world?" Elsa sang back to me, her voice soft and lilting.
My hand found hers in the light of her reading lamp, and held on tight. I shuffled closer, our legs and shoulders pressed together. We kissed, softly, and again, passionately. Our hands roamed of their own accord. I got up slowly, straddling her again, sitting on her thighs. Our fingers were still laced together. I gave her a gentle look—I couldn't well give her a massage with our hands like that. She sighed, letting her hands play with my thighs. I started with her shoulders, pressing firmly, trying to figure out if there really was tension that needed working out.
I was no expert, but after a few minutes of gentle kneading I moved from her shoulders to her left arm. I felt tension there for sure, massaging up and down her upper her arm. Her elbow—how did you massage an elbow?—and down her wrist, playfully pinning her arm in the process. I tickled her palm and moved to her other arm, shifting slightly so she could reach more of me if she wanted. I felt hand on my butt almost at once. I gave her a dirty look and a happy smile. In this moment I was perfectly happy for her to lust after my body—my thoughts about hers weren't exactly pure either.
What my body wanted… what my heart wanted… what my mind wanted… in that moment it was her. It was Elsa. In all different ways, for all different things. Months into our relationship, and it felt like I was learning more about myself than about her. It was weird, but it felt right. Actually, all of it felt weird, and right. Especially where my hands were in that moment.
"Anna?"
I looked down, my eyes tracing the pale freckles on her décolletage down her chest and over the top of each breast. Towards my fingertips. I looked up, giving her a smile and a playful squeeze.
"If you keep doing this, I may ask you to massage… lower." She coughed softly and looked away. "I would very much like it if you would help…"
That stopped me. My mind had already managed to put two and two together with that implication. "I… umm…"
"It's… okay…" Elsa hands were balled into fists, and she was staring at me with dangerous intensity, tilting her head toward the door.
I figured that one out myself. I ducked out, closing the door behind me. I was fairly sure I didn't want to watch… yet. I turned, remembering the top and bra I'd left in there. My hand froze halfway to the handle. I couldn't. I padded back to my room, then closed the door. I didn't want to think about what was almost certainly quiet moaning coming from Elsa's room. My body did though, one hand under the waistband of my jeans.
—∞—
I've been dozing for several hours, according to the clock hanging on the wall there. Dozing, and remembering. There are parts of that I want to tell Joan—but I don't know how I can clean it up. Maybe just a very bare bones outline. Maybe just our speech—and I could have sworn we talked a lot more about what we wanted, unless that was the other time… It's a pleasant memory. More than pleasant, in fact. But I'm older now, and arguably wiser—hey, I know what you're thinking. Anyway, I have a husband too, and he cares, a lot.
And right now I'm feeling a pressing need for two things. One of them is to be held again, like we used to do. The other is for what usually came before. Kristoff's not you, but I'm pretty sure we can figure something out… after all, adults get to make up their own rules.
