And Then We Fall

by Bryce Taylor

  She smiles, her face changed, amusement reflected in her eyes, laughs huskily, her hands reaching up to tenderly cradle my face.

  She bites her bottom lip, completely unintentional and utterly seductive.

  "Oh, god," I whisper.

  She turns serious, her fingertips tracing the lines of my face, turning her head up to me, asking for my kisses.

  Asking me to take what I want.

  I know what I want.

  I'm also well aware it isn't likely that she wants to be pinned beneath me, her body succumbing to my demands.

  "What do you want, Leigh?" I ask instead, my lips moving against hers.

  She stops, thinks this over for a second, laughs again.

  "I genuinely have no idea," she tells me.

  She stretches her arms up over her head, her muscles moving beneath me.

  "Do you?" she asks her voice lowering, the edge of smile pulling at one corner of her mouth.

  I really do.

  So many ideas.

  The look she gives when I reach for the scarf, deep interest, desire and need, is lighting a furnace inside me.

  I smile at her evilly.

  "You know," I tell her, "I just can't choose between tying you down or blindfolding you."

  She grins.

  "You should be better prepared," she tells me huskily.

  "Or I could gag you," I tell her, amused.

  She raises an eyebrow, then flashes me another grin.

  "Better pick one," she tells me smugly.

  She willingly lets me bind her wrists together, tie the ends of the scarf to the bed head, the warmth of her stomach between my thighs pleasantly reminding me that I am nowhere near done for tonight.

  Nowhere near done with her either, my hand exploring her body. Her eyes, softening, waiting for me, my fingertips lightly across her wrists.

  Teasingly down the soft underside of her arms, one fingertip across her lips, smiling down at her as she makes a small frustrated noise, clearly regretting her choice to submit to me.

  "Patience, my love," I tell her.

  She frowns, groans as I draw my fingernails down her chest.

  I lean forward, my hands on her biceps, tightening around her taut muscles, brush my lips with hers. She moves, a deliberate rolling of her hips, a question.

  "No," I tell her firmly, swinging my leg off of her, laying down beside her, trailing my hand down her body.

  Leigh's body is perfect, insatiably perfect in every way, breasts that are perfectly shaped for my hands, her nipples hard against the back of my knuckles.

  She sighs and I look up to see the look of, maybe, but not yes, a painful uncertainty in her eyes, she winces slightly when she sees I've noticed her look.

  I bite back an apology but her blue eyes are worried, concerned that maybe she has too many hang-ups.

  I lean in, my lips to her ear.

  "I promise you, we are going to spend as much time as we need to, right here in bed, until we find every single thing that you like," I whisper provocatively.

  She shivers.

  I look up to see her want burning up the worry, but still just the edge of worry.

  "You aren't ever going to let me do something that you don't like," I tell her, an instruction.

  Her eyes are widening.

  "Remember?" I ask.

  She nods, almost imperceptibly but an agreement none the less.

  "Thank you," I tell her, press my lips to hers softly.

  "Tell me what you want," I ask her.

  Leigh makes a face, raises an eyebrow, that she has never been good with words and she is hardly going to be very articulate right now.

  She takes a breath, going to give it a try anyway and I rest a fingertip on her lips.

  She frowns as I reach up, untie her.

  "No," she says.

  "You are hardly in a position to say no," I tell her tartly.

  She grins.

  "What was the point of telling me to say no then?" she asks.

  "You are such a smartarse," I tell her, "I don't even know why I bother."

  I start wrapping the scarf around her eyes, till she most definitely can't see a single thing.

  I lean in, kiss her on the lips.

  Her hands which were still above her head start to move cautiously downwards, but when I pause mid-kiss she stops immediately.

  "I don't want you to tell me," I tell her, a rasp, "I want you to show me what you want."

  I feel it, her heart speeding up, her breathing stopping for a long moment.

  I smile, that this time I am right on target.

  Her arms slowly, tenderly, wrapping around my body, holding me closer. Her hand cradling the back of my head, an uncertain request, that she wants my lips to her neck.

  As if I might not want to accede.

  She rolls her head, exposes more of her neck and I scrape my teeth.

  "Yes?" I ask her.

  "Yes," she groans, pulling me convulsively harder.

  Her hands are shaping my body to hers, tugging my leg between hers, her thighs velvety soft against mine.

  I can feel my desire growing, sheer want for her, the need to hold her down.

  "Harder," she rasps and I pause, my breathing in harsh gasps, wanting to make sure she and I mean the same thing.

  Her lips are parted, waiting and when I don't move she impatiently pulls me down, my lips on hers, softly for a second and then as her mouth opens to mine, my tongue aggressively pushing into hers. I feel her body capitulate, the sweetest submission and I kiss her more gently, she sighs.

  She guides me down her body, groaning as I press hard kisses, tiny nips.

  As I get to her hips, she pulls me back upwards, her legs sliding over my hips, trapping me.

  "Oh, fuck," I whisper.

  "Yes," she agrees and I shiver.

  She smiles, one hand tracing down my arm, her hand circling my wrist, directing my hand to the base of her neck, making space for my hand to wrap lightly around her neck, the steady beat of her pulse against my skin. Her hips roll into me, and my hand unconsciously tightens, I can feel her heartbeat increasing.

  I'm fucking her, no other word for it, driving her into the mattress, losing control over myself, only enough conscious thought left to not actually choke her. Her arms are wrapped tightly around me, not directing me now, clinging to me. My other hand is clasping her hip, pulling her harder into my thrusts.

  She shifts, creating a little space, enough for my hand to touch her.

  "Yes?" I ask.

  "Please," she rasps as my hand presses between her legs, I groan at finding a wetness, my finger drawn in, plunging between her lips, firmly sliding back and forwards.

  "Oh god," she whispers.

  She makes a small noise in her throat, a frustrated sound, that she wants something.

  "Show me," I remind her.

  Her hand is at my wrist, pushing me a little deeper.

  "Yes?" I ask cautiously.

  "Please," she says, pushing harder impatiently, feeling how tight she is at the edge of my fingertip.

  "Wait," I tell her, pressing slightly, not wanting to hurt her.

  "Leigh," I start, about to say that we don't have to do anything like this, not ever, if she doesn't want to.

  "Please," she says more forcefully, a plea and I see how much she needs this, to let go, to let go with me.

  "I've got you," I tell her, tensing my arm to stop her from pushing me any further in.

  "We are just going to go slow," I tell her, "ok?"

  She nods, turning her head in towards mine, her forehead pressed against mine, needing the contact.

  "Relax, let me in," I tell her soothingly, "relax."

  She is tense, too tense but she is still pushing me insistently in, still whispering "please", in my ear.

  I let go of her throat, starting to press small kisses into her neck, my palm circling lightly into her clit.

  "Does that feel good?" I whisper, "I want to touch you,
I want to be inside you."

  She groans softly.

  "I want to make you feel good," I tell her. "I love you, I'm not going to hurt you."

  She groans and I feel her let go, my finger sliding inside her to the first knuckle, the warmth of her body closing around me, every fibre of my being wanting her.

  "Oh god, you feel so good," I tell her hoarsely, my finger sinking in a little further, deeper, to the next knuckle, further until I can feel her against the top of my finger.

  Her hips jerk forward as I curl my finger in slightly and she is groaning throatily, her fingers digging into my shoulders. I manoeuvre my hand around, enough that I can caress her clit with my thumb, groaning at the feeling of her shuddering into me and I bite her shoulder, hard bone beneath my teeth.

  Sliding from her, rocking into her with my hips, slow languid movements, bring her back to me.

  We pause, me smiling at having satisfied her so completely, imagining her completely satiated. I'm about to ask if she wants to go to sleep when her arms tighten around my body, pull me under her, her lips roughly pressed to mine, her tongue demanding access to my mouth.

  She is still blindfolded but Leigh doesn't need her eyes to know what I want.

  Just her hands, her lips, her tongue.

  Just her body to tease me, to take me over.

  Her groans as I beg her, beg her to take me, to make me come.

  Moving down my body, with kisses and provocative bites, watching her, watching as her tongue reaches out to lightly probe my clit.

  "Oh god," I groan, my hands in her hair, arching my body closer, wrapping one leg around her shoulders, needing more.

  I can feel the muscles in her arms tighten around my legs, her tongue pressing against my entrance, licking deeply along my lips.

  Watching her head bent between my legs as she groans, the vibrations passing into me, her head moving up and down with each caress of her tongue.

  "Leigh, god, Leigh," I'm crying out, shuddering around her, my whole body consumed, Leigh's tongue driving me on, till there is nothing left.

  I'm lying limply on the bed, feeling her warm body fitting to mine. I pull her to me, wanting her lips, I want to taste me on her, growling, kissing her aggressively. I can feel Leigh's brief surprise, her immediate capitulation, her mouth opening to mine.

  We kiss and kiss, her lips becoming one with mine, finally her kisses becoming perfectly known to me. Till my body betrays me and I'm sleepy and satiated, my eyes closing and Leigh kisses my eyelids.

  I doze off and wake up, cradled in Leigh's arms, the certain knowledge of her being here with me following me from sleep.

  We'd fallen asleep with the lamp still on and I draw back a little from Leigh to take her in, the golden glow highlighting her perfection. My hand following my eyes down her chest, languidly exploring. I glance back up to her eyes, see them half-open, watching me with sleepy interest. Her eyes are darkened, gleaming blue, smouldering as my hand cups her breast, fingertips lazily circling her nipple, skin hardening under my attentions.

  Her arms reach up, wrap around my neck, pulling me closer. My lips brushing hers, my tongue tracing her lips and I'm slowly finding the things she likes, that she groans when I bite gently at her jaw, a soft sigh at the anticipation of my kiss on her neck, her fingertips tugging me closer at the lightest of kisses down her chest.

  Her arms directing me, holding me closer, the press of my breasts against her's making both of us groan.

  I trace her tattoo with my fingertips, kiss her there.

  I want to ask her if she got it for me, there is an ache to know what she has done for me and what she has done for other reasons, but I don't know if I really want to know the answer.

  I glance up, falling into her blue eyes.

  "Yes," she whispers.

  I raise an eyebrow.

  "Everything for you," she tells me, "I've never regretted anything more in my life that when I let you leave without telling you how I really felt."

  She pauses.

  "And then," she starts and sighs, looks at the tattoo.

  "Then, one day I realised I didn't need to spend the rest of my life regretting you," she says, her voice a rasp.

  She shrugs.

  "And so," she finishes and I'm riveted to her, to the ache, to the pain in her eyes.

  "I'm sorry," I tell her.

  "No," she says emphatically, "no, don't you see, this," she pauses, her hand trailing down the side of my face, caressing my lips, "this could never have happened then."

  "All of this has to happen, all the wonderful things that happened to each of us."

  "Imagine if you hadn't had the time with Diarmuid, if you hadn't had Em, if you hadn't made this life here," she trails off.

  I'm nodding, because Leigh is right, I can't imagine having not had a life with Diarmuid, I can't even conceive of life without Em.

  "And what did you get?" I ask her.

  She smiles.

  "I learned to love myself," she tells me softly, pulling me back to her lips, ending the conversation but not the sudden ache in my heart.

  We kiss for how long I don't know, until I'm so tired that I can't and I pull Leigh into my arms, caress her back lightly with my fingertips, until she sighs sleepily and snuggles into my side.

  I wake to a cold bed and a sinking heart that Leigh has left. That it hadn't occurred to me that she would leave, even though I know that it is complicated for her to stay the night. That I don't even know how to start talking to Em about this but we could have worked it out together if she'd stuck around. I glance at my alarm clock expecting to see it at a few minutes before six, the usual godawful time it's set to go off.

  The absolute minimum time I need to get up and get things done in the hour before Em is awake.

  I stare aghast at the time, seven twenty-three in glowing numbers, uncomprehending how it is still dark, what has happened to my alarm, how it is possible that Em hasn't woken up.

  Leaping out of bed, worry about Em consuming me wholly, wrapping my heavy bathrobe around myself as I make my way down the hallway to Em's room, seeing her door is wide open and instantly feeling the million unnamed fears of parenthood descending on me.

  "Can I have ice cream on mine?" Em's voice from the kitchen.

  "Nope," I hear Leigh say.

  "But I want ice cream," Em says in her very fake, very sad voice.

  "There are bananas or strawberries, which would you like?" Leigh asks.

  I hear a small huff, a childish sigh.

  "Ba-na-na," Em says eventually, drawing out each syllable grumpily.

  "Good choice," Leigh says unperturbed, "I'm going to have banana too."

  I'm standing in the doorway, watching them, their backs turned to me, Leigh holding the mixing bowl at the counter as Em grips the spoon in both hands to stir.

  Noticing not for the first time that Leigh and Em have the same wispy hair, Leigh's ash blonde, Em's reddish gold.

  I'm smiling, possibly about to cry and all of the emotions in between. Relief that Leigh is apparently all in, committed to our relationship and parenthood both.

  The she is going to be a great parent and that is a relief too, because I really don't need a benevolent stepmother in the house spoiling her rotten and I don't want to be raising Em alone.

  "Daddy used to make pancakes into animals," Em tells Leigh.

  "Seriously?" Leigh asks, not in the way that you do for a child but genuinely impressed by this piece of information.

  "Yes, he made bunnies and kitties and snow people," she tells her.

  There is a short pause.

  "Can you do that?" Em asks hopefully.

  "Nope," Leigh tells her. "I've never made pancake into anything but circles."

  My heart sinks a little, wishing that Leigh could at least give it a try.

  "I guess you'll have to be the person who is responsible for pancake shapes," Leigh goes on.

  "But I don't how," Em complains, it far too early in the mo
rning for her to be committing to new skills.