Stamina 11
Title: Stamina
Chapter 11: Controlled Escape
Author: caraaazy and livelovelearneg
Pairing: Callie/Arizona
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sequel to 'Closer to Desperation' and several others, all located at my journal. This portion is set six months after the end of C2D.
Standard Disclaimer: Don't own, Don't profit.
Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 |
A/N: I'm sorry that I didn't post this yesterday I like I promised- I had minor surgery and a crazy busy day afterwards. But, this one is extra long to make up for it. It's also really heavy, tasteful, but heavy. We had a difficult time with this one, writing and rewriting it for weeks to get it right, and we hope we passed the test. We are on a downhill slope after this chapter, and things should start getting a little less intense. We hope you all enjoy!
Callie ----
She tugged me out of the shower by my sleeve so quickly my wet socks slide on tile and we topple to the ground. I brace for the impact, curling her on top of me to keep her from being hurt. She furiously tries to rid me of my clothing, but it won’t budge, and if I’m being honest, I don’t want it to. I need the weight, I need the protection and with everything I am I desperately try to convince her of that. “Ari…I need…the weight…please.”
We lie there for a moment, just staring at one another, silently daring the other to break the connection. I look into her eyes and try to speak, but nothing will come. She shushes me with a kiss, soft and slow, exactly what I needed, and then stops, resting her forehead on my own. She looks deep into my eyes and mouths that she loves me, and if I hadn’t been able to feel her lips against my own, I wouldn’t have caught it at all. In that second all I can think about is kissing her, about making love to her, and proving to myself that she isn’t going to leave me.
I kiss her back, deeply, running my tongue along hers in a delicious dance. I kiss her hard and deep, over and over, nibbling slightly at her bottom lip at every opportunity, wanting to feel every inch of her, to make her real. As I reach a hand down to pop open her jeans and thrust myself into her, I stop and look deep into her eyes. Pleading with her. Needing her to understand. Needing her okay. She closes her own for a brief moment, and taking a deep breath she exhales and nods. Knowing what I want. And just as my hand crosses the boarder of her waistline, she grabs my wrist and says, “If we do this, we’re finishing together. Do you understand?”
I take a moment to ponder the sincerity and importance of her demand. She’s right. She’s telling me that we’re in this together. That even in something as simple as making love, something we’ve done hundreds of times, she wants me with her, right by her side, every second of the way. And then it hits me, she’s not leaving, she’s staying right here.
I smile softly, nodding as I reach up to brush a strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes, behind her ear. And then it hits me as I catch a glimpse of my left hand, the reason we're here on the bathroom floor, the burn ghosting my skin. My mother was dead. I'd lost the largest part of myself. And in Arizona I was going to find it again.
I knew what I wanted from her was irrational given the nature of the last forty-eight hours. I knew that it was pushing the verge of inappropriate. I knew that I only wanted this to escape, to have some ounce of control back in my life, I knew all of this, but I didn’t care. In that moment, everything inside of me was screaming to take her, to prove to myself that I was alive, that she was alive, and that she was mine. I needed desperately to know what she wasn’t going to leave me. Wasn’t going to leave me like my mother did. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to make sure she saw me, felt me, needed me just as badly as I need her.
I needed that moment. The moment when she let everything go and trusted me to push her past that precipice of pleasure. The moment when she trusted me completely as I pushed my fingers into her, the moment when she begged for it, needed it more than anything. That moment, that delicious moment, when she was mine and I was hers and there was nothing else in the world that could change that. That’s the moment I needed. And that’s the only thing my brain would focus on. I wanted her. No, I needed her. And with all hesitation, all fear, all emotion aside, I thrust two fingers deeply into her.
As soon as I did so, I felt my inner self, that’s screaming so loudly it made me wince. This wasn’t me. This isn’t who I am. I don’t use her like this, ever. Sex for us had never been out of anything but passion. But love. But need for one another. What I was doing? This wasn’t about either of those things. It was about control. About one circumstance I had every ounce of control over because she let me.
Honestly, I don’t even recognize the person thrusting into her. But as her mouth falls open in a gasp I know is out of sheer pleasure, the only thing I can say to her is “Please, Arizona.” Part of me needs to plead with her, so that she knows this isn’t who I am, that it isn’t how I see us. So she knows that I love her, so that she knows I can’t fight this. The other part screams at me to make her cum, hard, because I can, because she’s mine, and because it’s screaming at me that I need this more than anything I’ve ever needed before.
---
I instantly loathe myself for losing the control over myself, and am saddened at the irony of trying to find that control in this situation. For a moment the “real” me wins and I’m instantly filled with that terrible regret once again. I feel like I’m watching this from across the room. Separate from my body, from my mind. Watching this person I don’t know do this to her, even if she wants it just as much as I do. To the woman I love, to the woman who has been nothing short of a miracle since the gala.
She crashes our lips together, and I watch as she closes her eyes, disconnecting from me. I try to make her see it, the pain I’m feeling, and I hope desperately that she can see it in my eyes, that she can understand I have no control over this side of me, that I need her, even through all of the pain. As she opens hers, slowly, it rips through my heart, shredding it into pieces even smaller than I had felt before. The look in her eyes, she knows that I need this, and she’s willing to give it to me because she loves me. But she’s also pleading with me because she knows this is different than anything we’ve ever shared together before. But she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t force me off of her. Who the fuck have I become?
As the tears stream down my face, I kiss her again. But I need her to feel me, the real me, and I need her to feel the love I have for her. Kissing her slow and soft, like we’d done for many months, a slow beautiful dance we’d perfected with each other, if I can give her anything right now, it’s this. As I thrust into her deeply and grind my thumb roughly against her clit, I feel her walls tighten around me. A feeling I’ve always relished in when we’ve made love. I love when she’s at that point, when it’s my choice to push her over the edge or leave her hanging. Normally it isn’t about the control, it’s about bringing her to that point, about being able to make her feel so much pleasure her body takes over and I’m the one who gets to set her free. Her eyes slam shut and she stifles out a moan as her breath hitches in her chest. I know where she is, I’ve memorized every reaction and every inch of her body, and I know, right now, what needs to happen. But just as I’m about to finish what I started, she grabs my wrist, panting heavily, and removes it from her body with a long groan.
I look at her with confusion, she was so close, but she stopped me before I could do it. She looks into my eyes, and barely manages, between ragged breaths, “To-toge-together” and crashes her lips onto mine. I nod into the kiss and she shifts her knee to press into my center roughly. I break away, gasping, not even noticing my own desire until that moment. I throw my head back and grind down into her as she attaches herself to my neck, tugging roughly at my pulse. I groan hungrily, and grind down hard once again. “Ari…please”. And with those words she shoves her hand down my into my pants and runs her finger around my opening, bringing the wetness I hadn’t even noticed up with her as she swirls it against my clit. I gasp at the sudden contact, and I see her smirk slightly, thinking she has the upper hand.
I promised her we’d do this together, but that doesn’t mean she gets the control. I bite down aggressively just below her shoulder, causing her to cry out louder than I had expected. I look up at her in fear that it was too much, but she just reciprocates on my own. I decide enough is enough and shove my hand back into her pants and thrust even more deeply into her, matching and easily surpassing the lazy rhythm she had created inside of me. Thrusting deep and fast, harder than I ever have before, I instantly feel Arizona pull out of me as she gasps at my forcefulness, my inherent need. I don’t even care that I’m not going to get off; this was never about me needing that.
Without missing a beat, and knowing exactly what she needs to tumble over the edge, I add a third finger and curl them swiftly, dragging the tips of my fingernails against the inside of her, and the second they do, she screams my name and she lets go completely. As her orgasm pulsates through her body, she throws her head back, breaking our kiss, and comes hard around my fingers still buried deep inside of her.
I can’t move. And neither can she. We remain there, silently hiding from one another. Her eyes closed, mine buried in the crook of her neck. The moments after we make love have always been my favorite. When the world just, stops. When it’s just she and I. When we don’t move, we just, are. And for just this moment, I feel whole again. Not because of what just happened between us. Not because I took control over this when I promised her I wouldn’t. Not because my mother is dead. Not because my skin is burned and stinging with the salt of her sweat against me. Not any of it. Simply because, she is the woman I love, and with my fingers still inside of her, snuggling as close as I can to her heated body, for this moment, we can just, be.
---
I know her eyes are closed because she’s slightly shocked over my possessiveness. Of whom she’ll open her eyes to. If they’ll see the woman she loves, or the, miserable grieving woman that I let myself become. I was too rough, too aggressive, it was too much, and even I can see that. I realize all of these things, and am once again instantly saddened. I broke my silent promise to her that we would finish together. But in that moment? I needed to feel her come for me. I needed to make her come more than I needed anything else. But, after everything she’s done for me, I couldn’t even respect her terms. And to top it off, I could have hurt her with my reckless abandon.
All I know is that I need to run. I need to get out of here. I can’t hurt her anymore. I need to protect her from me. As I slowly pull my fingers out of her, trying desperately not to cause her any pain, I watch her beautiful face to make sure I’m not doing just that. Her eyes flicker open and I’m instantly met with tears in those piercing eyes I’m so in love with. What had I done? I freeze. I’m hurting her, so I stop every movement as I hover above her, waiting for her to give me some sign. Even if she looks at me like she doesn’t know me, I at least need to know I’m not hurting her. The pain in her eyes shakes me and knocks the wind out of me. Breathlessly I manage, “I’m so sorry” with so much regret and pain it even shakes me. She looks at me with sadness as she shushes me and shifts under me, sitting up. I quickly shuffle off of her like I was her personal brand of kryptonite and she simply shakes her head and reaches for my hand, offering to help me to my feet along with her.
I watch her silently as she slowly discards her clothes, but as she does so I instantly avert my eyes. I don’t deserve to see her, to watch her, to invade her once more. I close them, letting the tears fall silently as she finishes undressing me too. She’s being so gentle and so kind. She’s taking care of me, nurturing me, even after I did…that. With my eyes still tightly shut, I feel her tug at the pants around my ankles, and I lift my feet and step out of them. I take a deep breath, needing to say something, anything. To tell her I love her, or that I’m sorry, or that, I don’t know what just happened, to beg her for forgiveness, to tell her how desperately I need her here, how I can’t survive without her.
All these things come rushing to my mind, but my voice doesn’t catch on, my mouth creating silent words of apology. I slowly open my eyes to look at her and they instantly attach to her shoulder. I left teeth marks, deep teeth marks there, and the bruising is already very evident. When she came, I bit down as hard as I could, I remember now. Usually she loves when I do it, but that? That was unlike anything I’d ever done before. It wasn’t out of pleasure, or a contrast of pleasure and pain for her; it was about me controlling her, about me claiming her. What had I done? “Oh my God, Arizona. I…I…oh my God, I’m so sorry. Please, baby, I’m so sor -” I choke out a loud, painful sob as the guilt and shame all come crashing into me at once, my sentence left hanging as I am overcome with so much sadness all I can do is sob. How could I have done that to her?
I bury my face in my hands and drop to my knees. I’ve never cried this hard in my life. The salty tears stinging and burning my face as I let everything go. I let the fact that my mother is dead pour out of my body. I let the fact that I’ve just hurt the woman I love more than life itself so badly there are deep teeth marks in her neck. And I sob because I’ve lost myself. I’ve lost everything I was, and now I’m left with, nothing.
She drops to her knees next to me and pulls me into a tight hug, grasping desperately to me as if both our lives depended on it. She holds me, running her hands up and down my back. She knows I need to cry, to let it out, but I know I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve anything from her.
She pulls back and kisses my temple repeatedly, shushing my tears. I feel her absence as she stands once again, grabbing at my shoulders as she brings me to my feet. I run the back of my hand over my cheeks like a child, wiping away all of the streaming tears from them and let her lead me into the bedroom. I watch her as she pulls down the sheets, making room for my body and I feel her hand on my lower back as she guides me onto the bed without a word. The sheets are cold against my skin and my slight burns only add to the shivers that overcome my body. She manages a lift of her cheek in a tiny smile, her right dimple popping out slightly, as she kisses my forehead and tucks the covers tightly around me.
---
I follow her with my eyes as she shuffles around the bed and I feel the waft of air as she climbs in next to me. We lay there for a few moments, her thinking, and me too terribly afraid to move, to breath, for fear of hurting her even an ounce more. I feel her reach for my hand under the blankets, and I sigh as she begins tracing circles on my thumb.
Normally, that’s something I do, out of habit, out of contentment, and the fact that she’s doing it right now is something so powerful I almost cannot believe it. She’s telling me everything will be okay. She’s telling me she understands. She’s telling me that she loves me. She’s telling me we’re okay.
My heart clenches tightly in my chest as I feel another wave of sadness hit me as I take a staggered, deep breath. I turn away from her, rolling onto my side. She doesn’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her. I can hear her turn her head, her cheek rustling against the pillow, as she reaches around me to pull herself tightly behind me. She laces our fingers and brings our intertwined hands over my shoulder and presses a kiss on the back of mine.
All I can do is cry. How is it possible that after everything I did, everything I’ve done in the last two days to push her away, she’s still here, placing gentle kisses to the back of my hand and brushing my wet hair away from my face? I sob some more, my shoulders shaking and shrugging against her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t…I’m not…I’m so sorry.” It’s all I can manage, and it’s between loud gasps for air, but I know I need to try. I need her to know how terribly sorry I am for hurting her. For pushing her away, for being this person I don’t even know anymore.
“Shhh, it’s okay. I love you.”
My cries soften as I take in her words. She loves me. Even after everything. She whispers I love you over and over into my ear. And then I hear it. Exactly what I needed to. I needed to hear it from her. I needed it to be her. “It’s going to be okay.” She presses a soft kiss to my temple and resumes her soft movements on my thumb. I take a deep breath, finally, whole-heartedly, for the first time, believing every word she said.
As I let myself succumb to the exhaustion that has plagued me for the last two days, I know she’s right. I know, without a doubt that everything will be all right, because and only because, she’s right here beside me. By curling herself around me and telling me she loves me, she’s proven to me that she won’t leave. And with just that fact alone, I know that everything will be okay.
Arizona ----
Curled around her in my normally vacant bed, the light from the street lamps outside cast beams across us. Her skin is rosy now, as if she could benefit from a hefty slathering of Aloe. As if she had spent the day at the beach, relaxing in her bikini instead of torturing herself under a steady stream of burning water.
I sigh, finally able to relax, knowing full well that this is probably the worst of it, praying that this was the worst of it. And the fact that we had come out of it together. Maybe even stronger that we were before.
I bury my face between her shoulders and attempt to be lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of her pulse. Previously repressed sobs climb up my throat and I have to struggle to keep them as silent as possible. I prepare myself for a fitful night of sleep consumed with pain. But I’m unsure of what pain is worse, the pain of knowing how lost she is, or the pain in my heart because I know exactly how she feels.
Chapter 11: Controlled Escape
Author: caraaazy and livelovelearneg
Pairing: Callie/Arizona
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sequel to 'Closer to Desperation' and several others, all located at my journal. This portion is set six months after the end of C2D.
Standard Disclaimer: Don't own, Don't profit.
Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 |
A/N: I'm sorry that I didn't post this yesterday I like I promised- I had minor surgery and a crazy busy day afterwards. But, this one is extra long to make up for it. It's also really heavy, tasteful, but heavy. We had a difficult time with this one, writing and rewriting it for weeks to get it right, and we hope we passed the test. We are on a downhill slope after this chapter, and things should start getting a little less intense. We hope you all enjoy!
Callie ----
She tugged me out of the shower by my sleeve so quickly my wet socks slide on tile and we topple to the ground. I brace for the impact, curling her on top of me to keep her from being hurt. She furiously tries to rid me of my clothing, but it won’t budge, and if I’m being honest, I don’t want it to. I need the weight, I need the protection and with everything I am I desperately try to convince her of that. “Ari…I need…the weight…please.”
We lie there for a moment, just staring at one another, silently daring the other to break the connection. I look into her eyes and try to speak, but nothing will come. She shushes me with a kiss, soft and slow, exactly what I needed, and then stops, resting her forehead on my own. She looks deep into my eyes and mouths that she loves me, and if I hadn’t been able to feel her lips against my own, I wouldn’t have caught it at all. In that second all I can think about is kissing her, about making love to her, and proving to myself that she isn’t going to leave me.
I kiss her back, deeply, running my tongue along hers in a delicious dance. I kiss her hard and deep, over and over, nibbling slightly at her bottom lip at every opportunity, wanting to feel every inch of her, to make her real. As I reach a hand down to pop open her jeans and thrust myself into her, I stop and look deep into her eyes. Pleading with her. Needing her to understand. Needing her okay. She closes her own for a brief moment, and taking a deep breath she exhales and nods. Knowing what I want. And just as my hand crosses the boarder of her waistline, she grabs my wrist and says, “If we do this, we’re finishing together. Do you understand?”
I take a moment to ponder the sincerity and importance of her demand. She’s right. She’s telling me that we’re in this together. That even in something as simple as making love, something we’ve done hundreds of times, she wants me with her, right by her side, every second of the way. And then it hits me, she’s not leaving, she’s staying right here.
I smile softly, nodding as I reach up to brush a strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes, behind her ear. And then it hits me as I catch a glimpse of my left hand, the reason we're here on the bathroom floor, the burn ghosting my skin. My mother was dead. I'd lost the largest part of myself. And in Arizona I was going to find it again.
I knew what I wanted from her was irrational given the nature of the last forty-eight hours. I knew that it was pushing the verge of inappropriate. I knew that I only wanted this to escape, to have some ounce of control back in my life, I knew all of this, but I didn’t care. In that moment, everything inside of me was screaming to take her, to prove to myself that I was alive, that she was alive, and that she was mine. I needed desperately to know what she wasn’t going to leave me. Wasn’t going to leave me like my mother did. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to make sure she saw me, felt me, needed me just as badly as I need her.
I needed that moment. The moment when she let everything go and trusted me to push her past that precipice of pleasure. The moment when she trusted me completely as I pushed my fingers into her, the moment when she begged for it, needed it more than anything. That moment, that delicious moment, when she was mine and I was hers and there was nothing else in the world that could change that. That’s the moment I needed. And that’s the only thing my brain would focus on. I wanted her. No, I needed her. And with all hesitation, all fear, all emotion aside, I thrust two fingers deeply into her.
As soon as I did so, I felt my inner self, that’s screaming so loudly it made me wince. This wasn’t me. This isn’t who I am. I don’t use her like this, ever. Sex for us had never been out of anything but passion. But love. But need for one another. What I was doing? This wasn’t about either of those things. It was about control. About one circumstance I had every ounce of control over because she let me.
Honestly, I don’t even recognize the person thrusting into her. But as her mouth falls open in a gasp I know is out of sheer pleasure, the only thing I can say to her is “Please, Arizona.” Part of me needs to plead with her, so that she knows this isn’t who I am, that it isn’t how I see us. So she knows that I love her, so that she knows I can’t fight this. The other part screams at me to make her cum, hard, because I can, because she’s mine, and because it’s screaming at me that I need this more than anything I’ve ever needed before.
---
I instantly loathe myself for losing the control over myself, and am saddened at the irony of trying to find that control in this situation. For a moment the “real” me wins and I’m instantly filled with that terrible regret once again. I feel like I’m watching this from across the room. Separate from my body, from my mind. Watching this person I don’t know do this to her, even if she wants it just as much as I do. To the woman I love, to the woman who has been nothing short of a miracle since the gala.
She crashes our lips together, and I watch as she closes her eyes, disconnecting from me. I try to make her see it, the pain I’m feeling, and I hope desperately that she can see it in my eyes, that she can understand I have no control over this side of me, that I need her, even through all of the pain. As she opens hers, slowly, it rips through my heart, shredding it into pieces even smaller than I had felt before. The look in her eyes, she knows that I need this, and she’s willing to give it to me because she loves me. But she’s also pleading with me because she knows this is different than anything we’ve ever shared together before. But she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t force me off of her. Who the fuck have I become?
As the tears stream down my face, I kiss her again. But I need her to feel me, the real me, and I need her to feel the love I have for her. Kissing her slow and soft, like we’d done for many months, a slow beautiful dance we’d perfected with each other, if I can give her anything right now, it’s this. As I thrust into her deeply and grind my thumb roughly against her clit, I feel her walls tighten around me. A feeling I’ve always relished in when we’ve made love. I love when she’s at that point, when it’s my choice to push her over the edge or leave her hanging. Normally it isn’t about the control, it’s about bringing her to that point, about being able to make her feel so much pleasure her body takes over and I’m the one who gets to set her free. Her eyes slam shut and she stifles out a moan as her breath hitches in her chest. I know where she is, I’ve memorized every reaction and every inch of her body, and I know, right now, what needs to happen. But just as I’m about to finish what I started, she grabs my wrist, panting heavily, and removes it from her body with a long groan.
I look at her with confusion, she was so close, but she stopped me before I could do it. She looks into my eyes, and barely manages, between ragged breaths, “To-toge-together” and crashes her lips onto mine. I nod into the kiss and she shifts her knee to press into my center roughly. I break away, gasping, not even noticing my own desire until that moment. I throw my head back and grind down into her as she attaches herself to my neck, tugging roughly at my pulse. I groan hungrily, and grind down hard once again. “Ari…please”. And with those words she shoves her hand down my into my pants and runs her finger around my opening, bringing the wetness I hadn’t even noticed up with her as she swirls it against my clit. I gasp at the sudden contact, and I see her smirk slightly, thinking she has the upper hand.
I promised her we’d do this together, but that doesn’t mean she gets the control. I bite down aggressively just below her shoulder, causing her to cry out louder than I had expected. I look up at her in fear that it was too much, but she just reciprocates on my own. I decide enough is enough and shove my hand back into her pants and thrust even more deeply into her, matching and easily surpassing the lazy rhythm she had created inside of me. Thrusting deep and fast, harder than I ever have before, I instantly feel Arizona pull out of me as she gasps at my forcefulness, my inherent need. I don’t even care that I’m not going to get off; this was never about me needing that.
Without missing a beat, and knowing exactly what she needs to tumble over the edge, I add a third finger and curl them swiftly, dragging the tips of my fingernails against the inside of her, and the second they do, she screams my name and she lets go completely. As her orgasm pulsates through her body, she throws her head back, breaking our kiss, and comes hard around my fingers still buried deep inside of her.
I can’t move. And neither can she. We remain there, silently hiding from one another. Her eyes closed, mine buried in the crook of her neck. The moments after we make love have always been my favorite. When the world just, stops. When it’s just she and I. When we don’t move, we just, are. And for just this moment, I feel whole again. Not because of what just happened between us. Not because I took control over this when I promised her I wouldn’t. Not because my mother is dead. Not because my skin is burned and stinging with the salt of her sweat against me. Not any of it. Simply because, she is the woman I love, and with my fingers still inside of her, snuggling as close as I can to her heated body, for this moment, we can just, be.
---
I know her eyes are closed because she’s slightly shocked over my possessiveness. Of whom she’ll open her eyes to. If they’ll see the woman she loves, or the, miserable grieving woman that I let myself become. I was too rough, too aggressive, it was too much, and even I can see that. I realize all of these things, and am once again instantly saddened. I broke my silent promise to her that we would finish together. But in that moment? I needed to feel her come for me. I needed to make her come more than I needed anything else. But, after everything she’s done for me, I couldn’t even respect her terms. And to top it off, I could have hurt her with my reckless abandon.
All I know is that I need to run. I need to get out of here. I can’t hurt her anymore. I need to protect her from me. As I slowly pull my fingers out of her, trying desperately not to cause her any pain, I watch her beautiful face to make sure I’m not doing just that. Her eyes flicker open and I’m instantly met with tears in those piercing eyes I’m so in love with. What had I done? I freeze. I’m hurting her, so I stop every movement as I hover above her, waiting for her to give me some sign. Even if she looks at me like she doesn’t know me, I at least need to know I’m not hurting her. The pain in her eyes shakes me and knocks the wind out of me. Breathlessly I manage, “I’m so sorry” with so much regret and pain it even shakes me. She looks at me with sadness as she shushes me and shifts under me, sitting up. I quickly shuffle off of her like I was her personal brand of kryptonite and she simply shakes her head and reaches for my hand, offering to help me to my feet along with her.
I watch her silently as she slowly discards her clothes, but as she does so I instantly avert my eyes. I don’t deserve to see her, to watch her, to invade her once more. I close them, letting the tears fall silently as she finishes undressing me too. She’s being so gentle and so kind. She’s taking care of me, nurturing me, even after I did…that. With my eyes still tightly shut, I feel her tug at the pants around my ankles, and I lift my feet and step out of them. I take a deep breath, needing to say something, anything. To tell her I love her, or that I’m sorry, or that, I don’t know what just happened, to beg her for forgiveness, to tell her how desperately I need her here, how I can’t survive without her.
All these things come rushing to my mind, but my voice doesn’t catch on, my mouth creating silent words of apology. I slowly open my eyes to look at her and they instantly attach to her shoulder. I left teeth marks, deep teeth marks there, and the bruising is already very evident. When she came, I bit down as hard as I could, I remember now. Usually she loves when I do it, but that? That was unlike anything I’d ever done before. It wasn’t out of pleasure, or a contrast of pleasure and pain for her; it was about me controlling her, about me claiming her. What had I done? “Oh my God, Arizona. I…I…oh my God, I’m so sorry. Please, baby, I’m so sor -” I choke out a loud, painful sob as the guilt and shame all come crashing into me at once, my sentence left hanging as I am overcome with so much sadness all I can do is sob. How could I have done that to her?
I bury my face in my hands and drop to my knees. I’ve never cried this hard in my life. The salty tears stinging and burning my face as I let everything go. I let the fact that my mother is dead pour out of my body. I let the fact that I’ve just hurt the woman I love more than life itself so badly there are deep teeth marks in her neck. And I sob because I’ve lost myself. I’ve lost everything I was, and now I’m left with, nothing.
She drops to her knees next to me and pulls me into a tight hug, grasping desperately to me as if both our lives depended on it. She holds me, running her hands up and down my back. She knows I need to cry, to let it out, but I know I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve anything from her.
She pulls back and kisses my temple repeatedly, shushing my tears. I feel her absence as she stands once again, grabbing at my shoulders as she brings me to my feet. I run the back of my hand over my cheeks like a child, wiping away all of the streaming tears from them and let her lead me into the bedroom. I watch her as she pulls down the sheets, making room for my body and I feel her hand on my lower back as she guides me onto the bed without a word. The sheets are cold against my skin and my slight burns only add to the shivers that overcome my body. She manages a lift of her cheek in a tiny smile, her right dimple popping out slightly, as she kisses my forehead and tucks the covers tightly around me.
---
I follow her with my eyes as she shuffles around the bed and I feel the waft of air as she climbs in next to me. We lay there for a few moments, her thinking, and me too terribly afraid to move, to breath, for fear of hurting her even an ounce more. I feel her reach for my hand under the blankets, and I sigh as she begins tracing circles on my thumb.
Normally, that’s something I do, out of habit, out of contentment, and the fact that she’s doing it right now is something so powerful I almost cannot believe it. She’s telling me everything will be okay. She’s telling me she understands. She’s telling me that she loves me. She’s telling me we’re okay.
My heart clenches tightly in my chest as I feel another wave of sadness hit me as I take a staggered, deep breath. I turn away from her, rolling onto my side. She doesn’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her. I can hear her turn her head, her cheek rustling against the pillow, as she reaches around me to pull herself tightly behind me. She laces our fingers and brings our intertwined hands over my shoulder and presses a kiss on the back of mine.
All I can do is cry. How is it possible that after everything I did, everything I’ve done in the last two days to push her away, she’s still here, placing gentle kisses to the back of my hand and brushing my wet hair away from my face? I sob some more, my shoulders shaking and shrugging against her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t…I’m not…I’m so sorry.” It’s all I can manage, and it’s between loud gasps for air, but I know I need to try. I need her to know how terribly sorry I am for hurting her. For pushing her away, for being this person I don’t even know anymore.
“Shhh, it’s okay. I love you.”
My cries soften as I take in her words. She loves me. Even after everything. She whispers I love you over and over into my ear. And then I hear it. Exactly what I needed to. I needed to hear it from her. I needed it to be her. “It’s going to be okay.” She presses a soft kiss to my temple and resumes her soft movements on my thumb. I take a deep breath, finally, whole-heartedly, for the first time, believing every word she said.
As I let myself succumb to the exhaustion that has plagued me for the last two days, I know she’s right. I know, without a doubt that everything will be all right, because and only because, she’s right here beside me. By curling herself around me and telling me she loves me, she’s proven to me that she won’t leave. And with just that fact alone, I know that everything will be okay.
Arizona ----
Curled around her in my normally vacant bed, the light from the street lamps outside cast beams across us. Her skin is rosy now, as if she could benefit from a hefty slathering of Aloe. As if she had spent the day at the beach, relaxing in her bikini instead of torturing herself under a steady stream of burning water.
I sigh, finally able to relax, knowing full well that this is probably the worst of it, praying that this was the worst of it. And the fact that we had come out of it together. Maybe even stronger that we were before.
I bury my face between her shoulders and attempt to be lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of her pulse. Previously repressed sobs climb up my throat and I have to struggle to keep them as silent as possible. I prepare myself for a fitful night of sleep consumed with pain. But I’m unsure of what pain is worse, the pain of knowing how lost she is, or the pain in my heart because I know exactly how she feels.