Fighting back
Title: Fighting Back
Author: pemphredouk
Pairing/Characters: Michael, Sara, Lincoln, LJ,OC, Alex, Sofia Gretchen and Whistler
Rating: Probably NC-17 after the first few chapters
Summary: Michael and Sara discover things, good and bad about themselves as they finally start fighting back. All locations mentioned in the story actually exist and can be found on the google map I've made to accompany this fic. It can be found Google Map of Road Trip here.
Chapter 8: Patzun
Sara had never really considered herself to be someone that bore a grudge, she was someone who would always fight her corner, yes , give as good as she got, but calm down pretty quickly afterwards. She had shown herself willing to step forward and meet the other person half way when peace was required in the past. So she couldn’t quite believe that she had managed to stay angry with Michael for the length of two whole countries.
Two very hot and humid countries, sharing one small motorbike - on roads that were either choked with dust or drenched in tropical storms often within the space of ten minutes. The only upside was that although she had been required to hold him for hundreds of miles, her arms embracing him physically, mentally she could shut off. Since holding a conversation while riding pillion was actually rather difficult, especially with someone who was apparently pretending she didn’t exist. They had barely spoken beyond the ‘Do you want fruit or bread?’ question when they stopped at roadside vendors. Sara invariably nodded or shook her head in response.
After that first silent night in Costa Rica they had slipped into a routine, ride for four hours before stopping, with welcome relief to drink and stretch their limbs for a while. They ate just once each day saving money and avoiding uncomfortable time together. Afterwards Michael would find somewhere to sit and update his journal, meticulously working out their spend on gas and plotting their trip up the spine of Central America. The original map had been lost with the backpack and he had stopped at the first possible place to replace it. He had said nothing, because they were not talking of course, but she could tell he was not impressed with the only one available, muttering to himself about scales and towns without names and she almost felt guilty for losing the first one. Almost, but not quite…..
This uneasy silence had continued for over 500 miles and two days. On the second night they had stopped with wordless agreement just after crossing the border into Honduras and had once more erected the tent and prepared for bed with less than ten words exchanged between them.
The roads and towns had begun to merge into each other until she was barely aware of the country they were in, one twisting mountain road looked like all the others, a sixty mile stretch through jungle was just another two hours of her life gone….and all the time she had to cling onto Michael.
Silent Michael, who had apparently turned brooding into an Olympic sport.
It was later afternoon on the second day that Sara became conscious of her stitches itching, and several times she found herself massaging them, realising that skin was replacing scab and she needed to do something about them. Perhaps if she could get two mirrors, and scissors and grow eyes in the back of her head she…it was useless, they needed to come out and Michael was the only one who could help
Sara’s clothes were now entering the realms of truly disgusting. She had travelled and slept in them for nearly three days. They’d been completely soaked in the storms twice and she could only imagine how she smelled -although the odour that emanated from Michael was impossible to ignore and probably a good indicator.
.
In Nicaragua Michael had started announcing their itinerary like some bizarre guide on the ‘Fugitives: Central America Tour.’ He would take a deep breath, just before climbing onto the bike each time and announce how far they would travel, where he expected to stop and how much money they had left. Leaving no room for discussion but simply stating facts, and usually avoiding eye contact with Sara as she stood with her arms crossed next to him. She limited her responses to “fine” her lips pursing afterwards.
Once or twice she thought she noticed a slight hesitation from him, a slight ambiguity in his stare that could have suggested he was waiting for her to question or challenge him. Waiting or possibly hoping …but she didn’t care to be honest. She had assumed they would argue, and then make up and she had been shocked by the stubbornness of Michael when he failed to see this. Shocked, but not enough to take the first step to bridging the gap between them. He would have to make some effort too…So they both maintained communication lockdown, waiting and watching for the other to make the first tentative move, a battle of wills with no winner and the road just kept coming……. And then they had crossed the border into Guatemala,
Michael had calculated how much gas they could afford to buy, and then how many miles that would take them and frowned. He’d hoped by selling the car he could make the money stretch but several times he suspected he had been overcharged at some of the isolated gasolineras, his American accent probably the cause. His neat figures showed they would run out of gas and money nearly a two hundred miles short of their destination. Two hundred miles of Mexican countryside to cross and he had no idea how they would do it. He looked at the bike, perhaps they could sell it in Mexico, it might raise enough to buy bus tickets and a few basics. He knew they needed a change of clothes, food for another two days, a chance to charge up the cell phone. He flipped the book closed and sighed.
Actually, they all seemed rather minor problems when faced with the obstinate silence of Sara. His anger had almost abated by early the next morning, the tropical downpour which they drove through in silence helping to concentrate his mind. He’d realised that her attempt to help the boy had been a reflex action just as his desire to save Lincoln had been. It had been done unquestioningly, and with no thought of the risks for herself. Hadn’t he done the same when he allowed the first few inked lines to stain his skin and then fired those shots off in the bank? Although a reflex action that took over sixteen months of planning was probably pushing the comparison a little. But accepting what she had done was one thing. Finding a way to step back across the chasm of hurt was much more difficult.
He’d started to wish she would at least challenge him, question the route, his decision to ride up front for two days running, his choices for where they stopped but she would just look at him with sad eyes and turn her back, accepting whatever the roadside snack was or the location for the tent with a sigh and a nod.
They had reached a town called Patzun, and for once Michael had pulled over in the town rather than on the outskirts. They both looked a sight and they knew it but Michael had been unable to ride past the spicy smells emanating from a local café and had turned the bike round just thirty feet from it and returned to the frontage. Several frayed strings of bunting were tethered to the canopy stretching out from the shop and wound their way round two small trees on the pavement like some ghostly reminders of carnivals long past. Outside several mismatched tables and plastic garden chairs stood under the tattered canopy, gleaning what little shade they could. Michael rested the bike on the stand in the road directly opposite them. He raised his eyebrow to Sara and nodded at the café and she nodded back. They made their way to the table and Sara broke their silence.
“Can we afford this?”
“We need something a little more nourishing then fruit and corn bread.” He replied,
“It shouldn’t be too expensive.” and he took his jacket off shaking it a little before hanging it on the back of the chair. Sara watched his elegant movements, the care he had taken with his mud-spattered, rain soaked, sun dried jacket and a fleeting smile crossed her lips.
Sara settled herself into the other chair, relishing the breeze and the relief from the sun under the shade. She looked across at Michael and realised how tired he seemed. He’d done all the driving since San Jose, hours upon hours, mile after mile, and his face was lined with exhaustion. Sara wanted to reach out to him, smooth his arm with her, hands feel his soft skin under her touch but they weren’t in that place yet, there were too many thing to resolve so she looked away, observing for the first time the town around her.
They’d ordered plates of beans with chicken and ate it in silence. Both of them secretly enjoying its flavours and the simple pleasure of eating off plates with cutlery. Afterwards, Michael paid the woman, relieved that it had in fact been quite a cheap meal and they made their way back to the bike. Sara‘s hand brushed against the heavy synthesised leather of the pillion seat, and she pulled it back as the heat surprised her fingers.
The street had been empty of traffic but they looked up as a large black car turned into it one block down. It was a hearse, and behind it was a small procession of people, walking slowly and silently. They were led by a young man, possibly late twenties early thirties dressed in a suit, his collar buttoned up and a black tie tight around his neck. His face was bathed in grief and in his hands he held a large framed photograph of a young woman. Her hair pinned up, and held with a large white flower. The procession was getting closer and they both stared as the hearse rolled by them, carrying its sad burden. The man looked neither to left or right, his eyes never moved from the car in front of him. His steps were slow and precise.
Sara’s forehead crumpled into a look of sadness
“Ohh…” she murmured and Michael swallowed as he looked on the man who had obviously lost his love and his own emotions came tumbling back to him reminding him of when he had heard those words from Linc… “She’s dead Michael….”
He turned to look at Sara, as if just thinking the words had made them a disturbing reality again and felt a tremendous release of pressure as he took in her slim body, leaning against the bike.
She was alive, she was with him and no matter what had happened back in San Jose they still had each other. He realised with a clarity that was liberating that he would not let another sun set on this stupid argument of their’s. If that meant he had to start………
Sara had watched the funeral procession as well, her thoughts on other peoples deaths …funerals she had missed…her father’s, and she clasped her hands together, her lips bushing her knuckles and her head dipped in remembrance. Death was so final, and her thoughts turned to what Michael must have gone through thinking she was dead…
They both climbed onto the bike, Michael foregoing his usual itinerary updates and they drove out of town. But just eight miles out, he pulled over into a small clearing by the side of the road, a desultory picnic table stood rotting under the hanging branches of a large tree. The jungle winning the battle to reclaim even this place…
Sara placed her feet on the ground to steady the bike as surprisingly Michael slipped his leg over the tank and climbed off first. But he didn’t leave the bike. He pushed the stand down and then leaned back against it, his hands reaching behind him to grip the edge of the main seat to steady him. Sara’s bent knee was just inches from his leg, her arms were crossed on her stomach and she shifted slightly, waiting to see what would happen next.
Michael dropped his eyes to the ground and taking a deep breath he started speaking. His voice shaky at first but it became stronger and clearer as he continued
“I’m sorry Sara, I shouldn’t have made you leave the boy, I was just so scared that I would lose you again.”
He paused and glanced up at her, before continuing
“I couldn’t let you be taken, not again……”
Sara swallowed, and unfurled her arms slowly; Michael for a moment was distracted by watching the once pale but now tanned skin of her slender arms slip against each other. He loved everything there was about this woman, and the understated elegance in even her simplest of movements was entrancing.
Sara took the mental step and the chasm was crossed. Her fingers brushed against his shoulders, feeling the rough cord jacket beneath them and she smiled.
“I know, and I had no right to make that choice and put you in danger as well. I didn’t think I just acted.”
“I guess we’re both guilty of that.” Michael responded his hand now going up to touch her fingers. He turned and slipped his leg back over the seat, but this time facing her and she smiled raising her arms to curl around his neck. They were both a little take aback at how easy it have been, how quickly the sorry’s had come. But both had seen and recognised the grief on the young man in town and then knowing they had, despite incredible barriers, still got each other. They stared into each others eyes,
“I hated not talking.” Michael murmured into the air his lips curling up into an enigmatic smile.
“And not touching.” She responded softly, her fingers now reaching out for his hand.
“And not kissing….” he replied hesitating for just a second before leaning forward and gently pressing his lips against hers, weaving his arms around her waist and pulling her closer to him on the bike.
He felt the bike move beneath them on the stand and he spread his legs wider to make it stable once more. He was rewarded with Sara snuggling even closer and hitching her legs over his thighs until they were as close as possible, their hips touching. His hands now smoothed up her bare arms and came to rest on the back of her head, pulling her closer as he tilted his head and began kissing her with ease of a knowing lover. Swiping his tongue across her lips then entering her with little coaxing and deepening the kiss. Cars and trucks were passing by, each marked with a mini crescendo of laboured engine noise and tires thrumming on the paved road, some honked their horns at the two lovers and eventually Michael pulled back smiling. His fingers tenderly grazing over her cheek and chin were strangely discordant with the unmistakeable look of arousal deep within his eyes. His hands dropped down her back and gripped her jean clad bottom. His large hands covering her and he drew her even closer to him, making it impossible for her to not feel his hardened erection behind the button fly of his jeans. She smirked
“Hmm interesting situation Scofield, but I’m not sure what we can do about that…” and she looked around her, and saw nothing but a bike, a road, a picnic table…which she quickly discounted… and the jungle.
It seemed Michael had done the same reccy of their surroundings and he stepped off the bike, gripping her by the wrist and pulling her towards the curtain of jungle…
Sara was fighting a battle of her senses, she wanted him as much as he wanted her, the first tingling on her crotch was testament to that but surely they couldn’t make love here…. And she looked around again, it was hopeless.
Michael was still striding forward, and she could do nothing but follow, they slipped past the first few trees and bushes and she watched as he quickly surveyed the terrain. The passion in his eyes never waning, the bulge in his jeans very obvious
“The bike?” She whispered, they’d left it out on the road, probably not the safest thing to do …
“The bikes fine.” he gasped back, his desire now gripping his throat turning his voice into a husky growl. Then his hands were on her shoulders as he pushed her back against a tree. She felt the bark against her back and in a moment she realised they were going to do it, here …now and she gasped , as she felt herself instantly become wet at the prospect,
Michael was looking over her shoulder, he’d chosen the tree well, the bike was less than ten feet away , but he could see it clearly. However given the shadows in the dense jungle and the low bushes skirting its edge he knew they would be invisible from the road. He turned back to Sara
“I hated falling out Sara, can we make sure we never cross another border angry with each other…” and he leant forward and plunged his tongue into her mouth, she could only nod in response, overwhelmed by the sensations he was creating within her. He raise one hand and braced it against the trunk above her head, the other dropped to her jeans and popped open her button with one deft flick of his fingers.
She wanted this so much too and she reached for him, undoing his belt and then his buttons with almost feverish fingers. She pushed his jeans down roughly over his thighs, and then stopped, uttering a surprised
“Oh…”
He was naked; his hard cock released from the confines of his jeans pointing out straight and true, the tip already damp.
“Where’s your boxers?” she asked
“With the gun, they were so disgusting.” He replied distractedly, already reaching down to smother her neck and collar bone in kisses.
She would have said more but his hands had now pulled her jeans down and she knew the urgency of the situation - the fulfilment of their mutual desire was too close to ignore now and she reached down and slipped one trainer off and pulled her leg out of one side of her jeans and panties.
A bus rolled by noisily, and they both stopped briefly, holding their breaths, their eyes locking, then Michael’s fingers were on her, trailing up under her t-shirt, then roughly snaking under her bra and grasping her breast, squeezing and massaging until they met the hardened resistance of her nipples. Sara wanted to be naked, she wanted to feel his skin against hers but knowing the impracticalities of that, even for then she did the next best thing and grasping the hem of her shirt she heaved it up bunching it around her neck then did the same with her bra, inhaling sharply as her breasts were exposed to the air but still managing a knowing smile at Michael who stood for a moment startled by her wantonness.
Michael smiled like a kid in a candy store and took little coaxing to reacquaint himself with her breasts, His buzzed head moving beneath her in circles as he laved and sucked and nibbled at her. Her head went back as she let these new sensations envelop her and with one hand still holding back the shirt and bra she reached out for him, encircling him with her palm as her fingers swept under to fondle his balls.
She saw him open his mouth in a silent groan, and then one hand went for his pocket as his head dipped once more to taste her breast, licking and lingering over the areole, then circling the nipple with a teasing touch. He fumbled before withdrawing the box and as his mind worked on the problem of retrieving a condom his body involuntarily thrust into her hand, causing him to break away from her breasts to sigh and groan.
She couldn’t believe she’d denied herself these pleasures for two days, their argument was already fading into oblivion, as she felt him scoop her up, positioning her against the tree as she swept her legs around him. She clung to him, conscious of her jeans hanging down from one leg, and smiled at the sight of a half naked Michael his jeans now bunched below his knees. This time a look was exchanged between them, one of desire and excitement and Michael’s eyes never left her as he tilted his hips towards her and entered her slowly almost hesitantly. She bit her lip and adjusted her hips to allow the tree and Michael to share the burden of her weight then arched into him, forcing him in to the hilt and she was rewarded with a short gasp from him as he realised he wasn’t as fully in control of the situation as he had first thought.
Then he refocused his thoughts and began thrusting up into her. His hands had moved from her backside to under her thighs, his fingers gripping her with such force as he manoeuvred her to a position where he could move easily, his jerking hips translating to a long powerful slides inside her each time, This pushed her back against the rough bark, the friction against her back adding to the intensity of the moment. Michael was filling her, stretching her deliciously and she closed her eyes, and gripped the back of his neck feeling the muscles under her fingers tense across the top of his shoulders as he drove into her, thrust after forceful thrust.
It wasn’t going to take long. Two days of tense standoff had meant they were both close to release within minutes. Michael’s breaths were getting shorter and shorter, his eyes began glazing over. It was only when Sara relaxed her grip on his neck did he open his own eyes in time to see her face blush deeply. Her mouth opened in an extended O gasping out a murmured groan, and he felt her shudder around him. Her chest rose as she took a series of short breaths without exhaling and her eyes finally opened as she let out a long deep sigh that seemed to originate between her legs as Michael felt it tug at him and he came with a juddered explosion deep within her. His tongue shot out to swipe his lips as they seemed to dry instantly and his hands once more swept up to Sara’s backside squeezing and gripping as his movements stuttered to a halt. They both dropped their heads together, sweaty forehead against sweaty forehead, unable to form any coherent words for a few seconds.
Finally Sara managed
“Can we fall out every day if this is how we make up…”.
Michael was still holding her up, braced against the tree and his fingers went once more to her face, sweeping aside a tendril of dark red hair.
“Let’s skip the arguments and just go straight to this ok? I promise I won’t tell anyone…” He replied his soft voice full of tenderness.
“.Fine by me.” And she closed her eyes briefly as she felt him slide out of her as she felt the blush of her orgasm begin to fade from her skin. She dropped her legs down to the ground, conscious now of her one bare foot on the leaf strewn floor of the jungle. She let her hands linger on his body, smoothing down his chest then wrapping them around his waist.
“I love you; I will never stop loving you.” She whispered, and he smiled and bent his head down to capture one last tender kiss.
“Me too, now let’s go find Mexico.”
“The maps not that bad!” She snorted back and he raised one eyebrow in her direction as he pulled his jeans back up.
“Lets not talk about the map…” . A finger now raised in warning and she laughed at his gesture, her face breaking into a huge smile before shaking her head and Michael joined her, a low chuckle escaping him as he turned and made his way back to the bike.
Tbc…
Author: pemphredouk
Pairing/Characters: Michael, Sara, Lincoln, LJ,OC, Alex, Sofia Gretchen and Whistler
Rating: Probably NC-17 after the first few chapters
Summary: Michael and Sara discover things, good and bad about themselves as they finally start fighting back. All locations mentioned in the story actually exist and can be found on the google map I've made to accompany this fic. It can be found Google Map of Road Trip here.
Chapter 8: Patzun
Sara had never really considered herself to be someone that bore a grudge, she was someone who would always fight her corner, yes , give as good as she got, but calm down pretty quickly afterwards. She had shown herself willing to step forward and meet the other person half way when peace was required in the past. So she couldn’t quite believe that she had managed to stay angry with Michael for the length of two whole countries.
Two very hot and humid countries, sharing one small motorbike - on roads that were either choked with dust or drenched in tropical storms often within the space of ten minutes. The only upside was that although she had been required to hold him for hundreds of miles, her arms embracing him physically, mentally she could shut off. Since holding a conversation while riding pillion was actually rather difficult, especially with someone who was apparently pretending she didn’t exist. They had barely spoken beyond the ‘Do you want fruit or bread?’ question when they stopped at roadside vendors. Sara invariably nodded or shook her head in response.
After that first silent night in Costa Rica they had slipped into a routine, ride for four hours before stopping, with welcome relief to drink and stretch their limbs for a while. They ate just once each day saving money and avoiding uncomfortable time together. Afterwards Michael would find somewhere to sit and update his journal, meticulously working out their spend on gas and plotting their trip up the spine of Central America. The original map had been lost with the backpack and he had stopped at the first possible place to replace it. He had said nothing, because they were not talking of course, but she could tell he was not impressed with the only one available, muttering to himself about scales and towns without names and she almost felt guilty for losing the first one. Almost, but not quite…..
This uneasy silence had continued for over 500 miles and two days. On the second night they had stopped with wordless agreement just after crossing the border into Honduras and had once more erected the tent and prepared for bed with less than ten words exchanged between them.
The roads and towns had begun to merge into each other until she was barely aware of the country they were in, one twisting mountain road looked like all the others, a sixty mile stretch through jungle was just another two hours of her life gone….and all the time she had to cling onto Michael.
Silent Michael, who had apparently turned brooding into an Olympic sport.
It was later afternoon on the second day that Sara became conscious of her stitches itching, and several times she found herself massaging them, realising that skin was replacing scab and she needed to do something about them. Perhaps if she could get two mirrors, and scissors and grow eyes in the back of her head she…it was useless, they needed to come out and Michael was the only one who could help
Sara’s clothes were now entering the realms of truly disgusting. She had travelled and slept in them for nearly three days. They’d been completely soaked in the storms twice and she could only imagine how she smelled -although the odour that emanated from Michael was impossible to ignore and probably a good indicator.
.
In Nicaragua Michael had started announcing their itinerary like some bizarre guide on the ‘Fugitives: Central America Tour.’ He would take a deep breath, just before climbing onto the bike each time and announce how far they would travel, where he expected to stop and how much money they had left. Leaving no room for discussion but simply stating facts, and usually avoiding eye contact with Sara as she stood with her arms crossed next to him. She limited her responses to “fine” her lips pursing afterwards.
Once or twice she thought she noticed a slight hesitation from him, a slight ambiguity in his stare that could have suggested he was waiting for her to question or challenge him. Waiting or possibly hoping …but she didn’t care to be honest. She had assumed they would argue, and then make up and she had been shocked by the stubbornness of Michael when he failed to see this. Shocked, but not enough to take the first step to bridging the gap between them. He would have to make some effort too…So they both maintained communication lockdown, waiting and watching for the other to make the first tentative move, a battle of wills with no winner and the road just kept coming……. And then they had crossed the border into Guatemala,
Michael had calculated how much gas they could afford to buy, and then how many miles that would take them and frowned. He’d hoped by selling the car he could make the money stretch but several times he suspected he had been overcharged at some of the isolated gasolineras, his American accent probably the cause. His neat figures showed they would run out of gas and money nearly a two hundred miles short of their destination. Two hundred miles of Mexican countryside to cross and he had no idea how they would do it. He looked at the bike, perhaps they could sell it in Mexico, it might raise enough to buy bus tickets and a few basics. He knew they needed a change of clothes, food for another two days, a chance to charge up the cell phone. He flipped the book closed and sighed.
Actually, they all seemed rather minor problems when faced with the obstinate silence of Sara. His anger had almost abated by early the next morning, the tropical downpour which they drove through in silence helping to concentrate his mind. He’d realised that her attempt to help the boy had been a reflex action just as his desire to save Lincoln had been. It had been done unquestioningly, and with no thought of the risks for herself. Hadn’t he done the same when he allowed the first few inked lines to stain his skin and then fired those shots off in the bank? Although a reflex action that took over sixteen months of planning was probably pushing the comparison a little. But accepting what she had done was one thing. Finding a way to step back across the chasm of hurt was much more difficult.
He’d started to wish she would at least challenge him, question the route, his decision to ride up front for two days running, his choices for where they stopped but she would just look at him with sad eyes and turn her back, accepting whatever the roadside snack was or the location for the tent with a sigh and a nod.
They had reached a town called Patzun, and for once Michael had pulled over in the town rather than on the outskirts. They both looked a sight and they knew it but Michael had been unable to ride past the spicy smells emanating from a local café and had turned the bike round just thirty feet from it and returned to the frontage. Several frayed strings of bunting were tethered to the canopy stretching out from the shop and wound their way round two small trees on the pavement like some ghostly reminders of carnivals long past. Outside several mismatched tables and plastic garden chairs stood under the tattered canopy, gleaning what little shade they could. Michael rested the bike on the stand in the road directly opposite them. He raised his eyebrow to Sara and nodded at the café and she nodded back. They made their way to the table and Sara broke their silence.
“Can we afford this?”
“We need something a little more nourishing then fruit and corn bread.” He replied,
“It shouldn’t be too expensive.” and he took his jacket off shaking it a little before hanging it on the back of the chair. Sara watched his elegant movements, the care he had taken with his mud-spattered, rain soaked, sun dried jacket and a fleeting smile crossed her lips.
Sara settled herself into the other chair, relishing the breeze and the relief from the sun under the shade. She looked across at Michael and realised how tired he seemed. He’d done all the driving since San Jose, hours upon hours, mile after mile, and his face was lined with exhaustion. Sara wanted to reach out to him, smooth his arm with her, hands feel his soft skin under her touch but they weren’t in that place yet, there were too many thing to resolve so she looked away, observing for the first time the town around her.
They’d ordered plates of beans with chicken and ate it in silence. Both of them secretly enjoying its flavours and the simple pleasure of eating off plates with cutlery. Afterwards, Michael paid the woman, relieved that it had in fact been quite a cheap meal and they made their way back to the bike. Sara‘s hand brushed against the heavy synthesised leather of the pillion seat, and she pulled it back as the heat surprised her fingers.
The street had been empty of traffic but they looked up as a large black car turned into it one block down. It was a hearse, and behind it was a small procession of people, walking slowly and silently. They were led by a young man, possibly late twenties early thirties dressed in a suit, his collar buttoned up and a black tie tight around his neck. His face was bathed in grief and in his hands he held a large framed photograph of a young woman. Her hair pinned up, and held with a large white flower. The procession was getting closer and they both stared as the hearse rolled by them, carrying its sad burden. The man looked neither to left or right, his eyes never moved from the car in front of him. His steps were slow and precise.
Sara’s forehead crumpled into a look of sadness
“Ohh…” she murmured and Michael swallowed as he looked on the man who had obviously lost his love and his own emotions came tumbling back to him reminding him of when he had heard those words from Linc… “She’s dead Michael….”
He turned to look at Sara, as if just thinking the words had made them a disturbing reality again and felt a tremendous release of pressure as he took in her slim body, leaning against the bike.
She was alive, she was with him and no matter what had happened back in San Jose they still had each other. He realised with a clarity that was liberating that he would not let another sun set on this stupid argument of their’s. If that meant he had to start………
Sara had watched the funeral procession as well, her thoughts on other peoples deaths …funerals she had missed…her father’s, and she clasped her hands together, her lips bushing her knuckles and her head dipped in remembrance. Death was so final, and her thoughts turned to what Michael must have gone through thinking she was dead…
They both climbed onto the bike, Michael foregoing his usual itinerary updates and they drove out of town. But just eight miles out, he pulled over into a small clearing by the side of the road, a desultory picnic table stood rotting under the hanging branches of a large tree. The jungle winning the battle to reclaim even this place…
Sara placed her feet on the ground to steady the bike as surprisingly Michael slipped his leg over the tank and climbed off first. But he didn’t leave the bike. He pushed the stand down and then leaned back against it, his hands reaching behind him to grip the edge of the main seat to steady him. Sara’s bent knee was just inches from his leg, her arms were crossed on her stomach and she shifted slightly, waiting to see what would happen next.
Michael dropped his eyes to the ground and taking a deep breath he started speaking. His voice shaky at first but it became stronger and clearer as he continued
“I’m sorry Sara, I shouldn’t have made you leave the boy, I was just so scared that I would lose you again.”
He paused and glanced up at her, before continuing
“I couldn’t let you be taken, not again……”
Sara swallowed, and unfurled her arms slowly; Michael for a moment was distracted by watching the once pale but now tanned skin of her slender arms slip against each other. He loved everything there was about this woman, and the understated elegance in even her simplest of movements was entrancing.
Sara took the mental step and the chasm was crossed. Her fingers brushed against his shoulders, feeling the rough cord jacket beneath them and she smiled.
“I know, and I had no right to make that choice and put you in danger as well. I didn’t think I just acted.”
“I guess we’re both guilty of that.” Michael responded his hand now going up to touch her fingers. He turned and slipped his leg back over the seat, but this time facing her and she smiled raising her arms to curl around his neck. They were both a little take aback at how easy it have been, how quickly the sorry’s had come. But both had seen and recognised the grief on the young man in town and then knowing they had, despite incredible barriers, still got each other. They stared into each others eyes,
“I hated not talking.” Michael murmured into the air his lips curling up into an enigmatic smile.
“And not touching.” She responded softly, her fingers now reaching out for his hand.
“And not kissing….” he replied hesitating for just a second before leaning forward and gently pressing his lips against hers, weaving his arms around her waist and pulling her closer to him on the bike.
He felt the bike move beneath them on the stand and he spread his legs wider to make it stable once more. He was rewarded with Sara snuggling even closer and hitching her legs over his thighs until they were as close as possible, their hips touching. His hands now smoothed up her bare arms and came to rest on the back of her head, pulling her closer as he tilted his head and began kissing her with ease of a knowing lover. Swiping his tongue across her lips then entering her with little coaxing and deepening the kiss. Cars and trucks were passing by, each marked with a mini crescendo of laboured engine noise and tires thrumming on the paved road, some honked their horns at the two lovers and eventually Michael pulled back smiling. His fingers tenderly grazing over her cheek and chin were strangely discordant with the unmistakeable look of arousal deep within his eyes. His hands dropped down her back and gripped her jean clad bottom. His large hands covering her and he drew her even closer to him, making it impossible for her to not feel his hardened erection behind the button fly of his jeans. She smirked
“Hmm interesting situation Scofield, but I’m not sure what we can do about that…” and she looked around her, and saw nothing but a bike, a road, a picnic table…which she quickly discounted… and the jungle.
It seemed Michael had done the same reccy of their surroundings and he stepped off the bike, gripping her by the wrist and pulling her towards the curtain of jungle…
Sara was fighting a battle of her senses, she wanted him as much as he wanted her, the first tingling on her crotch was testament to that but surely they couldn’t make love here…. And she looked around again, it was hopeless.
Michael was still striding forward, and she could do nothing but follow, they slipped past the first few trees and bushes and she watched as he quickly surveyed the terrain. The passion in his eyes never waning, the bulge in his jeans very obvious
“The bike?” She whispered, they’d left it out on the road, probably not the safest thing to do …
“The bikes fine.” he gasped back, his desire now gripping his throat turning his voice into a husky growl. Then his hands were on her shoulders as he pushed her back against a tree. She felt the bark against her back and in a moment she realised they were going to do it, here …now and she gasped , as she felt herself instantly become wet at the prospect,
Michael was looking over her shoulder, he’d chosen the tree well, the bike was less than ten feet away , but he could see it clearly. However given the shadows in the dense jungle and the low bushes skirting its edge he knew they would be invisible from the road. He turned back to Sara
“I hated falling out Sara, can we make sure we never cross another border angry with each other…” and he leant forward and plunged his tongue into her mouth, she could only nod in response, overwhelmed by the sensations he was creating within her. He raise one hand and braced it against the trunk above her head, the other dropped to her jeans and popped open her button with one deft flick of his fingers.
She wanted this so much too and she reached for him, undoing his belt and then his buttons with almost feverish fingers. She pushed his jeans down roughly over his thighs, and then stopped, uttering a surprised
“Oh…”
He was naked; his hard cock released from the confines of his jeans pointing out straight and true, the tip already damp.
“Where’s your boxers?” she asked
“With the gun, they were so disgusting.” He replied distractedly, already reaching down to smother her neck and collar bone in kisses.
She would have said more but his hands had now pulled her jeans down and she knew the urgency of the situation - the fulfilment of their mutual desire was too close to ignore now and she reached down and slipped one trainer off and pulled her leg out of one side of her jeans and panties.
A bus rolled by noisily, and they both stopped briefly, holding their breaths, their eyes locking, then Michael’s fingers were on her, trailing up under her t-shirt, then roughly snaking under her bra and grasping her breast, squeezing and massaging until they met the hardened resistance of her nipples. Sara wanted to be naked, she wanted to feel his skin against hers but knowing the impracticalities of that, even for then she did the next best thing and grasping the hem of her shirt she heaved it up bunching it around her neck then did the same with her bra, inhaling sharply as her breasts were exposed to the air but still managing a knowing smile at Michael who stood for a moment startled by her wantonness.
Michael smiled like a kid in a candy store and took little coaxing to reacquaint himself with her breasts, His buzzed head moving beneath her in circles as he laved and sucked and nibbled at her. Her head went back as she let these new sensations envelop her and with one hand still holding back the shirt and bra she reached out for him, encircling him with her palm as her fingers swept under to fondle his balls.
She saw him open his mouth in a silent groan, and then one hand went for his pocket as his head dipped once more to taste her breast, licking and lingering over the areole, then circling the nipple with a teasing touch. He fumbled before withdrawing the box and as his mind worked on the problem of retrieving a condom his body involuntarily thrust into her hand, causing him to break away from her breasts to sigh and groan.
She couldn’t believe she’d denied herself these pleasures for two days, their argument was already fading into oblivion, as she felt him scoop her up, positioning her against the tree as she swept her legs around him. She clung to him, conscious of her jeans hanging down from one leg, and smiled at the sight of a half naked Michael his jeans now bunched below his knees. This time a look was exchanged between them, one of desire and excitement and Michael’s eyes never left her as he tilted his hips towards her and entered her slowly almost hesitantly. She bit her lip and adjusted her hips to allow the tree and Michael to share the burden of her weight then arched into him, forcing him in to the hilt and she was rewarded with a short gasp from him as he realised he wasn’t as fully in control of the situation as he had first thought.
Then he refocused his thoughts and began thrusting up into her. His hands had moved from her backside to under her thighs, his fingers gripping her with such force as he manoeuvred her to a position where he could move easily, his jerking hips translating to a long powerful slides inside her each time, This pushed her back against the rough bark, the friction against her back adding to the intensity of the moment. Michael was filling her, stretching her deliciously and she closed her eyes, and gripped the back of his neck feeling the muscles under her fingers tense across the top of his shoulders as he drove into her, thrust after forceful thrust.
It wasn’t going to take long. Two days of tense standoff had meant they were both close to release within minutes. Michael’s breaths were getting shorter and shorter, his eyes began glazing over. It was only when Sara relaxed her grip on his neck did he open his own eyes in time to see her face blush deeply. Her mouth opened in an extended O gasping out a murmured groan, and he felt her shudder around him. Her chest rose as she took a series of short breaths without exhaling and her eyes finally opened as she let out a long deep sigh that seemed to originate between her legs as Michael felt it tug at him and he came with a juddered explosion deep within her. His tongue shot out to swipe his lips as they seemed to dry instantly and his hands once more swept up to Sara’s backside squeezing and gripping as his movements stuttered to a halt. They both dropped their heads together, sweaty forehead against sweaty forehead, unable to form any coherent words for a few seconds.
Finally Sara managed
“Can we fall out every day if this is how we make up…”.
Michael was still holding her up, braced against the tree and his fingers went once more to her face, sweeping aside a tendril of dark red hair.
“Let’s skip the arguments and just go straight to this ok? I promise I won’t tell anyone…” He replied his soft voice full of tenderness.
“.Fine by me.” And she closed her eyes briefly as she felt him slide out of her as she felt the blush of her orgasm begin to fade from her skin. She dropped her legs down to the ground, conscious now of her one bare foot on the leaf strewn floor of the jungle. She let her hands linger on his body, smoothing down his chest then wrapping them around his waist.
“I love you; I will never stop loving you.” She whispered, and he smiled and bent his head down to capture one last tender kiss.
“Me too, now let’s go find Mexico.”
“The maps not that bad!” She snorted back and he raised one eyebrow in her direction as he pulled his jeans back up.
“Lets not talk about the map…” . A finger now raised in warning and she laughed at his gesture, her face breaking into a huge smile before shaking her head and Michael joined her, a low chuckle escaping him as he turned and made his way back to the bike.
Tbc…