Book!verse mini-series, 12-13
Lovingly referred to as: BobWishFic
Author: Weslyn; Beta: BakeryBard - who is much adored for all her feedback. She makes this fic so much better, often helping me out with those damn sentences that just don't want to work. Much thanks to her. *luves*
BOOK VERSE
NC-17 smut!
Word Count: just over 2,000.
Pairing/Characters: Harry, Murphy, Bob.
Disclaimer: Oh right, I don't own any of it. Tell that to my plot bunnies. What? You can't see them...? They're pink and ravenously chewing on my brain.
Summary: Ice cream, Murphy, and a revelation from her past. Also, Harry's hard-up for Touch. *g*
Warnings: Book spoilers for ... all of them, I'd say.
Previous Parts: 1-3, 4-7, 8-11
12.Miranda
Summer was finally winding its way into autumn, even though the calendar was already on October. Even so, the little ice cream shops that dot the highways were still popular among late night snackers. Riding on her Harley, Murphy and I pulled over and indulged ourselves in the flavor of the week: Rocky Road.
I had called Murphy up because we were friends, and friends should hang out on random occasions without the worry of vampires, zombies, or jaunts to the Nevernever. It was not because I was anxious about spending another night alone with Bob. (Who, rather exasperatingly, had kept up his ritual habit of curling up next to me at night - though the skull had moved to the bed stand.)
So I’d spent the remaining days of September noticing the little things about Bob that no straight man would have ever picked up on; it didn’t mean that my orientation had suddenly done a one-eighty.
There had been booze involved that night on the couch. Of course, by the morning I couldn’t use my blood alcohol level as an excuse for the raging morning wood I had when I woke up spooned behind Bob. I had noticed the way he smelled, the texture of his hair against my cheek, the warmth of his body, the way my hips cupped his ass so damn comfortably it was almost like a woman’s. Almost.
It would be nice to say that I just didn’t have time to sit down and question my sexuality, but the truth was that lately I had all the time in the world. I caught myself longing for the phone to ring, or hell, even a visit from Morgan. I pictured the absurdity of Morgan and I sitting down and discussing my theories of a Black Council over a cup of tea, but even that wasn’t enough to distract me for long.
So I’d called up Murphy.
She’d come over with a concerned edge that didn’t quite fade even after I had assured her that this was strictly a non-business outing.
Murphy, on or off the clock, was a cop, and a damn good one at that. She knew something was up - I could practically see little detectors go off inside her head, and the wheels turn as she began to formulate probable cause, motive, etc., etc.
Aside from the overgrown bushes behind us, we were virtually alone. Murphy had parked her bike next to us, and we half listened to the traffic on the highway, watching as clusters of people lined up for ice cream some yards off.
“Did I ever tell you about Miranda from my Academy years?” Murphy asked, breaking into my thoughts. She let the question hang in the air as she licked the cone where some ice cream had dribbled. We sat on top of a miniature picnic table, our feet resting on the attached bench that was meant to fit kids and not two full-grown adults. Okay, so Murphy might’ve fit, but she had paid for the ice cream, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Nope, don’t think I’ve heard about her before,” I said, and Murphy grinned wistfully.
“She was my closest friend,” she trailed off for a moment, “we still keep in touch, but,” she shrugged and changed tack. “I was sort of the quiet, studious type, and Miranda, well, Miranda was a lot of things I admired. We became friends almost by accident,” she grinned, blue eyes shining with memory, “just a right place at the right time thing, you know?”
I nodded even though giving a response was unnecessary and bit off a huge gob of ice cream.
“After a semester, we ended up in bed.”
I tried really hard not to choke on the ice cream that had suddenly bypassed my gag reflex and lodged itself in my throat. I blinked hard, several times, and finally swallowed, turning to stare at Murphy.
She was smiling, and although greatly amused, her gaze still lingered somewhere in the past. “It was just after we pulled off this one prank on our instructor, Schwartz,” she chuckled. “You know those huge bags of Styrofoam packing peanuts you can buy at something like UPS? We got one of those - we just happened to see it while walking by the store’s windows - and the idea nabbed us. We went back to the academy, snuck into the classroom and proceeded to empty out Schwartz’s desk, refilling it with the peanuts.”
Murphy chuckled softly. “We were very nearly caught,” she said as her mirth died down. She ate more of her increasingly melting ice cream, and on a more serious note Murphy continued, “She drove us back to her place - which was the usual - she had a nice apartment. I spent more of that year at her place than at my own.”
Murphy thoughtfully ate her ice cream lick by lick - something I was trying not to think too hard about. She was absorbed in her memories, it seemed; her cheeks were a little pink and her eyes were just a little too glassy. When her gaze finally refocused, she turned her darkened blues on me.
“Sharing a bed was normal for us too, but that night was different - not necessarily in a tangible way, but…” Murphy shrugged and then took a swan dive into the past, “We’d curled up a little closer, spoke a little softer, and when we kissed we held nothing back. It was … passionate.
“And afterward, I can only remember being happy. Well, directly afterward; I’d had a lot of questions for my sexuality in the morning. I struggled with it for a bit, trying to define myself. It’s like I was afraid that being with her made me someone else, but I never stopped being attracted to men, and women didn’t suddenly ring my bells, either - except Miranda. Miranda was different.”
Murphy smiled at me and shrugged casually, but the way her eyes held mine made my heart stumble, catch its balance, and then break out into a full-blown sprint. “I eventually figured out that I didn’t have to change who I was, and that being with her didn’t make me anyone I wasn’t.”
I was trying my best to keep the tenseness out of my posture, but I had a good feeling that my discomfort was as obvious to Murphy as apparently my awkward sexuality was.
“Thanks, Karrin,” I said quietly heartfelt. I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I went back to eating my half-mush cone. We sat in our respective silences until the excuse of food ran out.
As we rode home on Murphy’s Harley, I had to wonder just what had given me away. At first I didn’t think I had been behaving out of the ordinary, but then the more I reflected on my actions of late, the more I had to consider. By the time Murphy had parked and I was handing back the borrowed helmet, I couldn’t let the question go unasked.
I scraped up some confidence first, as I was acutely self-conscious about my wayward attraction. I took out my mental baseball bat, sized up the bush and gave it a solid whack.
“So what gave me away?” I asked abruptly.
Murphy was unphased, almost as if she’d been expecting it. A corner of her lips twitched upwards and she exhaled a small sigh of relief. I’d been too preoccupied up until then to notice that my little introspection had concerned her.
“I noticed when the three of us went out to Mac’s,” she began.
“Wait,” I interrupted, “back a few weeks ago when you asked Bob what his wish was?”
Murphy arched a brow and then smiled in pained amusement. “You’re just figuring this all out now, aren’t you?”
“I, well,” I ran a hand through my hair, “I’ve figured some things out.”
Murphy swung her leg over the bike, and studied me a moment with an expression that was hard to read from under her helmet. “It’s the way you look at him. You look at him like, well… You used to look at me like that,” she said softly, and maybe it was just my primal masculine ego but I thought I might have heard what sounded like regret.
13.Sleep
I had been hoping that time out with Murphy would have helped to ease my anxieties; instead it had eased my inhibitions. As I lay next to Bob, his arm harmlessly curled around my midsection, his warmth infusing the bed, my thoughts took a stroll down a road that had recently had its Do Not Enter sign removed.
So what if I liked the way Bob felt? So what if I found his lips a little too intriguing? So what if I had thoughts about exploring those lips with mine? So what if I wanted to use my lips to explore other areas of him as well?
I’d never seen anything wrong with homosexuality to begin with - I’d just never thought I’d … have the inclination.
And as startling as the revelation had been at first, my reservations had dimmed in light of what Murphy had shared with me - and that, in and of itself, was not helping me sleep anymore than Bob’s breath whispering over my neck.
My imagination got the better of me, and Miranda took the form of a slender young woman with straight, shoulder-length brown hair and mischievous dimples. Murphy said it had been passionate, and I had a blood-rushing image of lips and tongue and needy hands searching for more.
I did my best to banish the image. I snuggled deeper into my pillow, searching for a better sleep-inducing position. Nope, no sleep there. I broke out of my spooning with Bob and rolled onto my side so that I was facing him instead - and was met with the abrupt awareness of our proximity. I felt a twinge of frustration knowing how just little sleep I’d be getting.
I knew I was being stupid, teasing myself like this, but stars and stones, I’d been itching for some friction and I couldn’t help but scratch - just a little. Bob was sleeping higher up on the bed than me, so my lips were level with his jaw line. I scooted over gently to him, adjusting so that I was lying comfortably along the curve of his body. With my head tucked just under his chin, my lips were maybe an inch from his neck. I breathed him in and his scent carried straight to my groin.
I pressed my lips gently near the hollow of his throat and was immediately assaulted with a number of guilty thoughts.
I shouldn’t be doing this. He was asleep for Chrissake’s. How would I feel if he decided to abuse my trust some night and satisfy his sexual impulses?
Well, I’d…. I’d like it. A lot. Right then, I was sort of wishing he would.
I forced myself on my back, wanting to growl in frustration. A second later I slid out of bed. I was never going to get to sleep like this. I headed to the kitchen for a glass of water and maybe a little space to breathe, relax, and let the sexual tension wind down.
I got the glass, got the water and sipped it, but I didn’t feel anymore more tired. My gaze darted back to the half-opened bedroom door.
I stared at the door and considered the desire that sat unabated in my groin. I considered that I also wanted to sleep sometime that night, too.
Quick and dirty, I just needed to get off and then I could go to bed, sated and tired. I ran my hand tentatively over the front of the flannel shorts I was wearing and then I grabbed myself, inhaling deeply as that wonderful good feeling doubled. I stroked, erection pulsing to full arousal. I clenched my jaw as I dipped my hand beneath the elastic and tried not to groan at the feeling of flesh on flesh.
It was dry, brisk, and empty of fantasies.
I heard the bed creak and sheets rustle and I froze, ears perking to listen for the sound of Bob rising. None came, but my eyes remained glued to the door.
A terrible, gut-twistingly erotic thought hit me.
What if he caught me…? What if he came out here to the kitchen and saw me with my hand down my pants, getting off because I was too damn aroused to sleep with him beside me? What would he do? Would he watch? Would he know that he was the cause of it?
Oh, god. From my toes to my scalp, my body sung wire-tight with a quiet, urgent need. I fisted my cock, and thought about him watching me. I tried to keep my breathing under control, and my chest ached with the moans I was suppressing. Heat burst under my skin like hellfire and I broke out in a light sweat. My hips jerked with the motion of my hand, and hell’s bells, I couldn’t remember a time when it felt this good.
Orgasm built swiftly, and my body shuddered as release coursed through me. I was trembling a little as the last pulses of pleasure subsided and I caught my breath, my senses still buzzed from the head rush.
I cleaned up as best I could, but the telltale scent of sexual exertion was infused in my shorts and skin. In a nutshell, I was having second thoughts about crawling back into bed with Bob.
I pulled down an afghan from a closet and curled up on the couch, wondering how far this infatuation would go before I ended up embarrassing myself.