Fic: Breathe You (Will/Emma, PG)
Title: Breathe You
Author: vlegal
Pairing: Will/Emma
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Glee and its characters are the property of Fox and Ryan Murphy. I intend no rights infringement.
Summary: “I just couldn’t...not…kiss you.”
Author't Note: Hi, kids. Sorry it's been a while. Here's some fluff. I wouldn't have gotten this done without the amazing assistance of madeinsekrit , who prevented me from failing completely with this one. Hope you enjoy :)
Air is overrated. Sure, you need it to live. It keeps your body working and your brain functioning. Sometimes it smells nice. Sometimes it doesn’t. It can be cold or warm, damp or dry. It’s always there, which is kind of nice. Gotta love reliability. But aside from that? Meh.
Emma decided about 15 minutes ago that from now on, she would only breathe Will Schuester. He completely shut down her brain and was doing amazing things to her body. He always smelled incredible, tonight being no exception. He was warm - so, so warm. She had realized long ago that she most definitely needed him to live, or at least live in a way that was worth living. And no cool breeze or cloud of fog had ever kissed her like this. So take that, air.
Never in her life had Emma been kissed like this. It was intense and passionate and heated, but something about it - something about the way she fit so easily and comfortably in his arms, something about how they both knew exactly when to tug, nip, slide against each other’s lips a little bit more or a little bit less to make it feel just perfect, something about the way this was completely unexpected and a long time coming - made Emma wonder how she’d wandered around so long with only air to keep her alive.
How the hell had they gotten here? Him pressed up against the hotel room wall, her keeping him there not at all against his will. He wasn’t exactly pinned to the wall. She wasn’t sure that was possible since he had at least 60 lbs on her, a significant portion of that being muscle. But she was most certainly pressed up against him, head to toe, every inch of her in line with him. And oh God, the feel of his tongue gliding against hers, the taste of chocolate and chapstick on his lips, the smell of shampoo and fabric softener and just him on his skin…she wasn’t going anywhere.
Seriously, what extraordinary good deed in a past life got her here? His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, gently tilting her head to give his lips a new angle. She couldn’t decide which had been better tonight: the epic win at Nationals, the impromptu, 2-hour pajama/victory party that had broken out in Will’s hotel room with all the kids, or this.
She had never felt something like that snap within her before. Nobody could settle down enough to go to bed after winning Nationals (Nationals!!!), so Will’s “I’m so proud of you, my heart might explode” goodnight speech had naturally devolved into a dance party, speakers and an iPod appearing out of nowhere, the whole room coming to life. With a little coaxing from Mike and Quinn, she had joined right in. It felt so good to sing and laugh and move after so much tension over the last few days. Hell, over the last year. She didn’t realize how much she just needed to let go. Turn off her brain and just let sensation take over. Be free. Be young.
She’d twirled around the room with the kids, certainly not keeping pace with their impressive dance moves, but keeping the beat and not entirely embarrassing herself. Finn had spun her effortlessly, releasing her hand as another grabbed it, just as ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ came on. She was laughing and slightly dizzy from spinning so much, but the arm attached to the hand moved easily around her and kept the two of them moving without letting her fall. Will would never let her fall, something deep down in her soul told her. His smile matched her own, and she found herself lowering her voice so she could hear him sing along with the room more clearly. She could feel his muscles shifting under his t-shirt as he held her close, and then the strength of his arms when he spun her. He swung her and dipped her, turning her away from him and then quickly bringing her back close, never losing grip on her hands and always looking her in the eyes as he sang. She felt mesmerized seeing him this joyful and exuberant. It had been a long time since she’d seen him like this and she loved it. Even more, she loved being part of it.
What she didn’t love was the way his whole face changed as the song ended and some thumping hip hop came on. No one stopped dancing, the kids rapping out all the words to 3 and a Half Dollars, or whoever it was. And Will kept hold of both her hands. But his face changed.
“Sorry,” he whispered so only she could hear. He released her and stepped back, as though suddenly remembering himself. Remembering who he was and who they weren’t. Possibly even remembering who she had been with. Had being the operative word. Carl was gone and Will knew that. But Will also knew that Carl had been gone for a while and nothing had changed between them. Nothing. They were still friends, sure. Best friends. And she was New Directions’ biggest fan and most willing chaperone. She’d demonstrated that all week. But she was also a free woman. A free woman who he was in love with and who hadn’t made a single move to come back to him. And the way his face changed from carefree adoration and joy to sorrow and embarrassment told her the realization that she wasn’t his had just come crashing back down on him.
Why was that, exactly? Why wasn’t she his?
She spent the rest of the night trying to come up with a logical answer to this and not fall over her own feet every time she noticed Will watching her dance. By the time the hotel staff shut the party down around 2:30am and Will started herding students into appropriate rooms, she still had nothing. She stayed behind, tidying up and checking for any serious damages, but most importantly wondering what happened to her million and one reasons not to be with Will.
Hurt! That was it! She was hurt. Hurt that he’d slept with April. Err. But. He hadn’t slept with April. She’d gotten that little piece of news from the drunkard’s mouth herself. Followed by mocking confirmation from Sue, her original source, that she was gullible and believed everything she was told when it came to - how had Sue put it? - “that waxed-in-all-the-wrong-places Ken doll of a man you won’t stop making eyes at.” She had been gullible, that she’d admit. She should never have listened to Sue, or anyone for that matter, before talking to Will. But she hadn’t done that. She hadn’t been brave enough. And now, here she was, at 2:30 in the morning in a hotel room in New York City, doing a full body check for any remnants of hurt that she could use as an excuse for her own dishonesty.
Emma knew she was a liar. Maybe not overtly, but certainly by omission. By not practicing what she preached to her kids about being true to themselves. By letting Ken believe what she was offering him was good enough. By acting like Carl wasn’t just an experiment in denial. By not telling Will that, yes, he was right. She was completely in love with him.
She rarely let that thought flow through her brain, because it tended to make things short circuit. But oh, god, she loved him. The thought had been creeping forward in her mind more and more in the past months since the end of Carl and she was getting tired of pushing it back. She was starting to ache for him. Her best friend, who she saw five days out of seven (at least), she ached for like they’d been parted for ages. The more they talked, shared silent conversations with their eyes in crowded rooms, got in tune with each other again, the worse the ache got. At first she ached to see him. Then she ached to talk with him. It evolved into an ache to hear him laugh, and then an ache to see him smile.
When she danced in his arms earlier, when she saw his face fall and a part of his happiness crumble, she ached to kiss him. But she hadn’t. Why was that exactly? She loved him and knew (hoped) he loved her. And yet, she hadn’t moved.
“This makes absolutely no sense!” Will’s tired voice startled her from where she’d paused to pick up a dropped sweater. He shut the door behind him with a soft click and leaned against it. “I just corralled twelve rowdy teenagers into their beds, only to have to drag them out again in,” Will checked his watch, “four and a half hours. Won’t that be a joy!”
She didn’t think it was his sarcastic tone that did it. Maybe it was the raised eyebrows and little smirk? More likely how the smirk turned into a grin that reached his eyes which told her he how much he loved his job and was actually looking forward to the obnoxious groans and whining they would be confronted with in the morning. As she set down the sweater she held and walked over to him, she got a better idea of what did it. It was how he stepped in front of her as they waited at a crosswalk two days ago, putting himself between her and the muddy puddle that cars were splashing through as they turned the corner. It was how he visibly relaxed in the auditorium when she took his hand in both of hers and didn’t let go, just before their group took the stage. It was the way he never looked at her differently, always with the same mix of awe and adoration, even when she knew she didn’t deserve it.
That’s what caused the ache and doubt and wonder to draw taut to the point of snapping.
Will misinterpreted her movements and shifted out of the way, freeing up the exit. “So, I’ll knock on your door at 7? If we tag team it we could probably get everyone up…quickly…” He trailed off when she stopped before him, facing him rather than the door. She ignored the way his eyebrows rose up his forehead. At the moment, the intensity of whatever it was finally snapping inside her was more critical than his surprise.
She kissed him softly, just enough pressure so they both felt it, a hand raised to run her fingers along his jaw like she’d been desperate to for minutes/days/months. As she pulled away, the ache came back, bringing her forward the three inches required to return to his lips. Apparently the snap had made some sort of sound, because when she came back to him, Will’s confusion was gone and his attention was clearly fixed on her. Fixed on kissing her like he needed her to breathe.
So that’s how they’d gotten here. His hands had trembled as they settled lightly at her waist. She’d brought another hand up to his chest, feeling the heat of him pulsing under her palm. She had needed more, something inside her insisting she close any other distances. And Will had given her what she wanted. He’d drawn a long breath and deepened the kiss, seemingly drinking her in. His hands skimmed up between them, one stopping briefly at the fingers on his chest, before continuing along her neck to her face. He ran his fingertips tentatively down her cheeks, testing to see if she was really there. If this was really happening. She stepped forward, raised higher on her toes. Oh god, his tongue…Emma realized what she was feeling could only be described as ‘exquisite’. Will made a noise in the back of his throat that echoed her sentiments exactly while his arms slid around her back, drawing her to him. Yes, Will. More. We should have been here all along. I’m sorry.
He pulled back and for a brief moment she wondered if he’d heard her thoughts. “Emma?” He brushed some hair from her face, finding her eyes and holding them.
“Kiss me, Will. Please? Just kiss me?” She knew she was begging, arms wrapped around his neck and mind going too quickly to be more coherent about what was happening. What she was thinking. What he needed to know. But she couldn’t bring herself to feel any shame or pride. She just wanted to feel him. He leaned down and kissed her again, never one to deny her anything. But this kiss was simpler, warmer, gentler. A new addition to the definition of ‘exquisite’.
He stopped again, but his thumbs stroked the skin exposed where her tank top rode up. “Emma, talk to me. I need…I need to know what this is.” His eyes pleaded with her. Asked for the truth and prayed for as little pain as possible. If she was going to tell him this was nothing. That this was an odd combination of exhaustion and stress and frustration. She wished she could tell him with her eyes, with her lips, that this wasn’t nothing. This was everything. But words seemed to fail her.
She tasted him again, just briefly ghosting her lips over his and shivering as he leaned into her movements. “I just couldn’t...not…kiss you,” she stuttered. That wasn’t enough. She could tell by his eyes.
“Why?” he pressed in a whisper.
“Because I’ve been pretending I’m not in love with you for too long and I’m done pretending.”
Well. That was blunt. But it was 2:45am, so maybe she could get a pass for her lack of elegance?
Her pass came in several forms: the warmth in his eyes just before they slipped shut, the way he leaned his forehead against hers, the ‘Oh my God’ that breathed against her chin, the smile that seemed to take over his whole face, the kiss that turned any ache she’d felt into butterflies and sparks.
And so, here they were. Together. Pressed against his hotel room wall. He wasn’t watching her anymore and she wasn’t observing in him in her normal fashion. No more looking, no more longing. Feeling. That’s what Emma was doing for once in her life, and by the way he was responding, so was Will. It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time. The way Will’s fingertips drew trails of electricity along the small of her back. The heat of his mouth. The tensing and flexing of his muscles as he tried to pull her even closer. She let her brain shut down and the sensations overtake her. No number of therapy sessions could ever get her to let go like the feeling of being in Will’s arms could. Her brain was startled back into action, however, as Will’s voice floated back into the vicinity.
“Em….Emma….Em, hang on…” She was making it harder for him to speak, she knew, kissing along his jaw and down his neck the way she was. But the rasp of his skin against her lips was just too delicious a feeling to ignore. He had to draw her face back up to his with his hands, kissing her nose and cheeks before leaning his head back so he could see her. “We need to slow down. I don’t think we should…Not here, not now...” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
The reality of where they were, what time it was, and what was still unspoken came crashing down on her. They needed to talk and think and plan before anything went any further. But ohhhhh, she just wanted to feel right now, not think, while her fears and doubts seemed to have evaporated from the heat of his skin. Everything else would fall into place, she was certain. But the rational side of her agreed with the vocal side of Will. “You’re right,” she answered. “We shouldn’t.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, willing her heartbeat to slow down.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, Em,” Will admitted quietly, fingers stroking her hair. “God, I want to,” he sighed. Emma opened her eyes to see his had slipped shut. She placed a soft kiss on his lips and then waited for him to continue. “I’m just sure you never imagined your first time to be in some hotel in New York with a bunch of students down the hall. You probably imagined champagne and roses and satin sheets and you deserve all of that.”
He was looking at her again with a wistful smile that broke her heart and mended it all at the same time. “All I imagine is you,” she whispered. It was true. Any dreams or fantasies she’d ever had of taking that final step had only every starred one man. “You’re right, we shouldn’t take this farther. Not right now. But…can I stay with you tonight?” No matter what needed to be discussed or how slow they needed to take things, she knew most importantly she needed to be near him tonight. She needed to feel him and know he was there. “I just don’t want to stop kissing you…” she admitted, unable to meet Will’s eyes for embarrassment.
This time it was Will who closed the gap between them, lips warm and wet where they pressed multiple kisses against hers. “God, Em,” he groaned. “Yes,” he cupped her face in his palms, pecking at her lips. “I love you,” he breathed. “I’ve always loved you.”
They made their way over to the bed for what could only be considered a power nap, since it was 3 o’clock and they both knew that they had to be up at 7. Not that it mattered. Will gathered Emma in his arms as they snuggled under the covers, laughing lightly when she reached for his face as soon as they were settled. He kissed her languorously for several minutes, hands not straying too far, but taking the opportunity to stroke and caress some of her curves in a way that flooded her body with relaxation. He murmured that they should try to get at least a little sleep and she nodded her agreement, burrowing against his chest.
She tried to sleep. She really did. And she dozed off and on. But she couldn’t help it. Every time one of them shifted positions or roused, she tilted her chin up or turned her face to the side, finding his lips and tasting them again. Being surrounded by him, feeling and smelling and seeing only him, turned out to be intoxicating and left her only wanting more. Not having to deny her feelings anymore seemed to have broken some sort of dam within her. Things stayed fairly chaste, but Will always responded without hesitation, drawing her closer and returning her kiss before both fell asleep again. At some point, a tired voice in the back of her mind chided to leave the poor man alone and let him get some sleep. He was going to think she was needy and ridiculous, clinging and pawing at him endlessly. She rolled away from him, head still pillowed by his outstretched arm, in an effort to leave him be. But as she lay trying to convince herself that she could last the final two hours of the night without kissing him, heat spooned up behind her and a strong arm wound around her waist. She felt her whole body melting as he trailed kisses along her shoulder and over the strap of her tank top. He thread his tired fingers into hers, pressing their hands against her stomach and settling his lips against her neck, lightly sucking and nipping at her skin until she purred. “I love you,” he sighed into her hair before they settled down again. His mirrored need for her was ironically what finally put her to sleep. But not before her return whisper of ‘I love you’ earned a final kiss to the nape of her neck.
Sunlight and 7 o’clock came far too quickly. But the lazy grin that spread across Will’s face as he slowly blinked awake made it slightly more tolerable.
“I used to dream about waking up with you like this,” he told her, his voice deeper and rougher than she’d ever heard it.
“And the reality?” she asked while running a hand through his hair.
“The reality just flipped the dream the finger.” Feeling him kiss her again after only a few hours since the last time he did shouldn’t have sent a thrill shooting through her. But it did. “Problem is,” he continued, briefly pausing to raise her hand and brush his lips against her knuckles, “I don’t know how I’m going to sit on a bus with you for 11 hours today and not be able to kiss you.” He nudged his nose against hers, just before leaning in towards her mouth. His whisper was hot and welcome against her skin, “It’s going to be like trying not to breathe.”
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Feedback is always appreciated and loved!
Author: vlegal
Pairing: Will/Emma
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Glee and its characters are the property of Fox and Ryan Murphy. I intend no rights infringement.
Summary: “I just couldn’t...not…kiss you.”
Author't Note: Hi, kids. Sorry it's been a while. Here's some fluff. I wouldn't have gotten this done without the amazing assistance of madeinsekrit , who prevented me from failing completely with this one. Hope you enjoy :)
Air is overrated. Sure, you need it to live. It keeps your body working and your brain functioning. Sometimes it smells nice. Sometimes it doesn’t. It can be cold or warm, damp or dry. It’s always there, which is kind of nice. Gotta love reliability. But aside from that? Meh.
Emma decided about 15 minutes ago that from now on, she would only breathe Will Schuester. He completely shut down her brain and was doing amazing things to her body. He always smelled incredible, tonight being no exception. He was warm - so, so warm. She had realized long ago that she most definitely needed him to live, or at least live in a way that was worth living. And no cool breeze or cloud of fog had ever kissed her like this. So take that, air.
Never in her life had Emma been kissed like this. It was intense and passionate and heated, but something about it - something about the way she fit so easily and comfortably in his arms, something about how they both knew exactly when to tug, nip, slide against each other’s lips a little bit more or a little bit less to make it feel just perfect, something about the way this was completely unexpected and a long time coming - made Emma wonder how she’d wandered around so long with only air to keep her alive.
How the hell had they gotten here? Him pressed up against the hotel room wall, her keeping him there not at all against his will. He wasn’t exactly pinned to the wall. She wasn’t sure that was possible since he had at least 60 lbs on her, a significant portion of that being muscle. But she was most certainly pressed up against him, head to toe, every inch of her in line with him. And oh God, the feel of his tongue gliding against hers, the taste of chocolate and chapstick on his lips, the smell of shampoo and fabric softener and just him on his skin…she wasn’t going anywhere.
Seriously, what extraordinary good deed in a past life got her here? His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, gently tilting her head to give his lips a new angle. She couldn’t decide which had been better tonight: the epic win at Nationals, the impromptu, 2-hour pajama/victory party that had broken out in Will’s hotel room with all the kids, or this.
She had never felt something like that snap within her before. Nobody could settle down enough to go to bed after winning Nationals (Nationals!!!), so Will’s “I’m so proud of you, my heart might explode” goodnight speech had naturally devolved into a dance party, speakers and an iPod appearing out of nowhere, the whole room coming to life. With a little coaxing from Mike and Quinn, she had joined right in. It felt so good to sing and laugh and move after so much tension over the last few days. Hell, over the last year. She didn’t realize how much she just needed to let go. Turn off her brain and just let sensation take over. Be free. Be young.
She’d twirled around the room with the kids, certainly not keeping pace with their impressive dance moves, but keeping the beat and not entirely embarrassing herself. Finn had spun her effortlessly, releasing her hand as another grabbed it, just as ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ came on. She was laughing and slightly dizzy from spinning so much, but the arm attached to the hand moved easily around her and kept the two of them moving without letting her fall. Will would never let her fall, something deep down in her soul told her. His smile matched her own, and she found herself lowering her voice so she could hear him sing along with the room more clearly. She could feel his muscles shifting under his t-shirt as he held her close, and then the strength of his arms when he spun her. He swung her and dipped her, turning her away from him and then quickly bringing her back close, never losing grip on her hands and always looking her in the eyes as he sang. She felt mesmerized seeing him this joyful and exuberant. It had been a long time since she’d seen him like this and she loved it. Even more, she loved being part of it.
What she didn’t love was the way his whole face changed as the song ended and some thumping hip hop came on. No one stopped dancing, the kids rapping out all the words to 3 and a Half Dollars, or whoever it was. And Will kept hold of both her hands. But his face changed.
“Sorry,” he whispered so only she could hear. He released her and stepped back, as though suddenly remembering himself. Remembering who he was and who they weren’t. Possibly even remembering who she had been with. Had being the operative word. Carl was gone and Will knew that. But Will also knew that Carl had been gone for a while and nothing had changed between them. Nothing. They were still friends, sure. Best friends. And she was New Directions’ biggest fan and most willing chaperone. She’d demonstrated that all week. But she was also a free woman. A free woman who he was in love with and who hadn’t made a single move to come back to him. And the way his face changed from carefree adoration and joy to sorrow and embarrassment told her the realization that she wasn’t his had just come crashing back down on him.
Why was that, exactly? Why wasn’t she his?
She spent the rest of the night trying to come up with a logical answer to this and not fall over her own feet every time she noticed Will watching her dance. By the time the hotel staff shut the party down around 2:30am and Will started herding students into appropriate rooms, she still had nothing. She stayed behind, tidying up and checking for any serious damages, but most importantly wondering what happened to her million and one reasons not to be with Will.
Hurt! That was it! She was hurt. Hurt that he’d slept with April. Err. But. He hadn’t slept with April. She’d gotten that little piece of news from the drunkard’s mouth herself. Followed by mocking confirmation from Sue, her original source, that she was gullible and believed everything she was told when it came to - how had Sue put it? - “that waxed-in-all-the-wrong-places Ken doll of a man you won’t stop making eyes at.” She had been gullible, that she’d admit. She should never have listened to Sue, or anyone for that matter, before talking to Will. But she hadn’t done that. She hadn’t been brave enough. And now, here she was, at 2:30 in the morning in a hotel room in New York City, doing a full body check for any remnants of hurt that she could use as an excuse for her own dishonesty.
Emma knew she was a liar. Maybe not overtly, but certainly by omission. By not practicing what she preached to her kids about being true to themselves. By letting Ken believe what she was offering him was good enough. By acting like Carl wasn’t just an experiment in denial. By not telling Will that, yes, he was right. She was completely in love with him.
She rarely let that thought flow through her brain, because it tended to make things short circuit. But oh, god, she loved him. The thought had been creeping forward in her mind more and more in the past months since the end of Carl and she was getting tired of pushing it back. She was starting to ache for him. Her best friend, who she saw five days out of seven (at least), she ached for like they’d been parted for ages. The more they talked, shared silent conversations with their eyes in crowded rooms, got in tune with each other again, the worse the ache got. At first she ached to see him. Then she ached to talk with him. It evolved into an ache to hear him laugh, and then an ache to see him smile.
When she danced in his arms earlier, when she saw his face fall and a part of his happiness crumble, she ached to kiss him. But she hadn’t. Why was that exactly? She loved him and knew (hoped) he loved her. And yet, she hadn’t moved.
“This makes absolutely no sense!” Will’s tired voice startled her from where she’d paused to pick up a dropped sweater. He shut the door behind him with a soft click and leaned against it. “I just corralled twelve rowdy teenagers into their beds, only to have to drag them out again in,” Will checked his watch, “four and a half hours. Won’t that be a joy!”
She didn’t think it was his sarcastic tone that did it. Maybe it was the raised eyebrows and little smirk? More likely how the smirk turned into a grin that reached his eyes which told her he how much he loved his job and was actually looking forward to the obnoxious groans and whining they would be confronted with in the morning. As she set down the sweater she held and walked over to him, she got a better idea of what did it. It was how he stepped in front of her as they waited at a crosswalk two days ago, putting himself between her and the muddy puddle that cars were splashing through as they turned the corner. It was how he visibly relaxed in the auditorium when she took his hand in both of hers and didn’t let go, just before their group took the stage. It was the way he never looked at her differently, always with the same mix of awe and adoration, even when she knew she didn’t deserve it.
That’s what caused the ache and doubt and wonder to draw taut to the point of snapping.
Will misinterpreted her movements and shifted out of the way, freeing up the exit. “So, I’ll knock on your door at 7? If we tag team it we could probably get everyone up…quickly…” He trailed off when she stopped before him, facing him rather than the door. She ignored the way his eyebrows rose up his forehead. At the moment, the intensity of whatever it was finally snapping inside her was more critical than his surprise.
She kissed him softly, just enough pressure so they both felt it, a hand raised to run her fingers along his jaw like she’d been desperate to for minutes/days/months. As she pulled away, the ache came back, bringing her forward the three inches required to return to his lips. Apparently the snap had made some sort of sound, because when she came back to him, Will’s confusion was gone and his attention was clearly fixed on her. Fixed on kissing her like he needed her to breathe.
So that’s how they’d gotten here. His hands had trembled as they settled lightly at her waist. She’d brought another hand up to his chest, feeling the heat of him pulsing under her palm. She had needed more, something inside her insisting she close any other distances. And Will had given her what she wanted. He’d drawn a long breath and deepened the kiss, seemingly drinking her in. His hands skimmed up between them, one stopping briefly at the fingers on his chest, before continuing along her neck to her face. He ran his fingertips tentatively down her cheeks, testing to see if she was really there. If this was really happening. She stepped forward, raised higher on her toes. Oh god, his tongue…Emma realized what she was feeling could only be described as ‘exquisite’. Will made a noise in the back of his throat that echoed her sentiments exactly while his arms slid around her back, drawing her to him. Yes, Will. More. We should have been here all along. I’m sorry.
He pulled back and for a brief moment she wondered if he’d heard her thoughts. “Emma?” He brushed some hair from her face, finding her eyes and holding them.
“Kiss me, Will. Please? Just kiss me?” She knew she was begging, arms wrapped around his neck and mind going too quickly to be more coherent about what was happening. What she was thinking. What he needed to know. But she couldn’t bring herself to feel any shame or pride. She just wanted to feel him. He leaned down and kissed her again, never one to deny her anything. But this kiss was simpler, warmer, gentler. A new addition to the definition of ‘exquisite’.
He stopped again, but his thumbs stroked the skin exposed where her tank top rode up. “Emma, talk to me. I need…I need to know what this is.” His eyes pleaded with her. Asked for the truth and prayed for as little pain as possible. If she was going to tell him this was nothing. That this was an odd combination of exhaustion and stress and frustration. She wished she could tell him with her eyes, with her lips, that this wasn’t nothing. This was everything. But words seemed to fail her.
She tasted him again, just briefly ghosting her lips over his and shivering as he leaned into her movements. “I just couldn’t...not…kiss you,” she stuttered. That wasn’t enough. She could tell by his eyes.
“Why?” he pressed in a whisper.
“Because I’ve been pretending I’m not in love with you for too long and I’m done pretending.”
Well. That was blunt. But it was 2:45am, so maybe she could get a pass for her lack of elegance?
Her pass came in several forms: the warmth in his eyes just before they slipped shut, the way he leaned his forehead against hers, the ‘Oh my God’ that breathed against her chin, the smile that seemed to take over his whole face, the kiss that turned any ache she’d felt into butterflies and sparks.
And so, here they were. Together. Pressed against his hotel room wall. He wasn’t watching her anymore and she wasn’t observing in him in her normal fashion. No more looking, no more longing. Feeling. That’s what Emma was doing for once in her life, and by the way he was responding, so was Will. It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time. The way Will’s fingertips drew trails of electricity along the small of her back. The heat of his mouth. The tensing and flexing of his muscles as he tried to pull her even closer. She let her brain shut down and the sensations overtake her. No number of therapy sessions could ever get her to let go like the feeling of being in Will’s arms could. Her brain was startled back into action, however, as Will’s voice floated back into the vicinity.
“Em….Emma….Em, hang on…” She was making it harder for him to speak, she knew, kissing along his jaw and down his neck the way she was. But the rasp of his skin against her lips was just too delicious a feeling to ignore. He had to draw her face back up to his with his hands, kissing her nose and cheeks before leaning his head back so he could see her. “We need to slow down. I don’t think we should…Not here, not now...” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
The reality of where they were, what time it was, and what was still unspoken came crashing down on her. They needed to talk and think and plan before anything went any further. But ohhhhh, she just wanted to feel right now, not think, while her fears and doubts seemed to have evaporated from the heat of his skin. Everything else would fall into place, she was certain. But the rational side of her agreed with the vocal side of Will. “You’re right,” she answered. “We shouldn’t.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, willing her heartbeat to slow down.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, Em,” Will admitted quietly, fingers stroking her hair. “God, I want to,” he sighed. Emma opened her eyes to see his had slipped shut. She placed a soft kiss on his lips and then waited for him to continue. “I’m just sure you never imagined your first time to be in some hotel in New York with a bunch of students down the hall. You probably imagined champagne and roses and satin sheets and you deserve all of that.”
He was looking at her again with a wistful smile that broke her heart and mended it all at the same time. “All I imagine is you,” she whispered. It was true. Any dreams or fantasies she’d ever had of taking that final step had only every starred one man. “You’re right, we shouldn’t take this farther. Not right now. But…can I stay with you tonight?” No matter what needed to be discussed or how slow they needed to take things, she knew most importantly she needed to be near him tonight. She needed to feel him and know he was there. “I just don’t want to stop kissing you…” she admitted, unable to meet Will’s eyes for embarrassment.
This time it was Will who closed the gap between them, lips warm and wet where they pressed multiple kisses against hers. “God, Em,” he groaned. “Yes,” he cupped her face in his palms, pecking at her lips. “I love you,” he breathed. “I’ve always loved you.”
They made their way over to the bed for what could only be considered a power nap, since it was 3 o’clock and they both knew that they had to be up at 7. Not that it mattered. Will gathered Emma in his arms as they snuggled under the covers, laughing lightly when she reached for his face as soon as they were settled. He kissed her languorously for several minutes, hands not straying too far, but taking the opportunity to stroke and caress some of her curves in a way that flooded her body with relaxation. He murmured that they should try to get at least a little sleep and she nodded her agreement, burrowing against his chest.
She tried to sleep. She really did. And she dozed off and on. But she couldn’t help it. Every time one of them shifted positions or roused, she tilted her chin up or turned her face to the side, finding his lips and tasting them again. Being surrounded by him, feeling and smelling and seeing only him, turned out to be intoxicating and left her only wanting more. Not having to deny her feelings anymore seemed to have broken some sort of dam within her. Things stayed fairly chaste, but Will always responded without hesitation, drawing her closer and returning her kiss before both fell asleep again. At some point, a tired voice in the back of her mind chided to leave the poor man alone and let him get some sleep. He was going to think she was needy and ridiculous, clinging and pawing at him endlessly. She rolled away from him, head still pillowed by his outstretched arm, in an effort to leave him be. But as she lay trying to convince herself that she could last the final two hours of the night without kissing him, heat spooned up behind her and a strong arm wound around her waist. She felt her whole body melting as he trailed kisses along her shoulder and over the strap of her tank top. He thread his tired fingers into hers, pressing their hands against her stomach and settling his lips against her neck, lightly sucking and nipping at her skin until she purred. “I love you,” he sighed into her hair before they settled down again. His mirrored need for her was ironically what finally put her to sleep. But not before her return whisper of ‘I love you’ earned a final kiss to the nape of her neck.
Sunlight and 7 o’clock came far too quickly. But the lazy grin that spread across Will’s face as he slowly blinked awake made it slightly more tolerable.
“I used to dream about waking up with you like this,” he told her, his voice deeper and rougher than she’d ever heard it.
“And the reality?” she asked while running a hand through his hair.
“The reality just flipped the dream the finger.” Feeling him kiss her again after only a few hours since the last time he did shouldn’t have sent a thrill shooting through her. But it did. “Problem is,” he continued, briefly pausing to raise her hand and brush his lips against her knuckles, “I don’t know how I’m going to sit on a bus with you for 11 hours today and not be able to kiss you.” He nudged his nose against hers, just before leaning in towards her mouth. His whisper was hot and welcome against her skin, “It’s going to be like trying not to breathe.”
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