No More Talking
Title: No More Talking
Author: Amber
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Sequel to my series. In order, they are: Denial, Acceptance, and Release.
We adjourn to the bedroom, but not before he sets the pancake batter in the fridge.
"My finest work," he murmurs.
I watch him put everything away, methodically. A thought suddenly strikes me, and I blurt out, "Don't you have to go work?" We've been alone together for almost six hours.
He turns to stare at me, and shakes his head slowly.
He closes the refrigerator door with a smack, and walks towards me.
"I requested a week off. I could almost hear Bob fainting on the phone."
My mouth opens and closes, like a fish. "When?" I manage.
"Right after you came to my apartment." he admits. "I thought you might need -" he shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. "It was automatic. I could tell you were having a hard time."
"Thank you," I answer. "Even though I was being so -" I cringe when I remember how I came on to him.
"Stop." he interrupts me, gently. "Stop putting yourself down. You were fine. You just surprised me. I hadn't seen you in months, and then, boom. I didn't know what to think. But after I kicked you out, and you were so obviously worked up about Noah, I just - called Bob. I - had to." He looks uncomfortable, and stares at a spot on the far wall beyond me.
"Thank you," I repeat. "It means so much to me, that you'd do that."
He shrugs, and bends to kiss my forehead. His lips linger on my brow, and I sigh softly. His hands encircle my back. We stand, in silence, for several seconds.
"I wish I could have seen Bob's face," I say.
"Me too," he replies, chuckling.
I look into his eyes, and ache to say the three words. They're hiding underneath the tip of my tongue.
Instead, I say, "So I didn't honestly peg you for a Brokeback Mountain fan."
His face clears, and he says, "It's one of my favorite movies. Ennis' struggle - I can relate to that so much. Not the closeted part, obviously. but -"
"Obviously." I reply.
"But the denial of love, to chase something else. When I was in med school, I'd turn down dates to study. I wanted to be a doctor more than anything. So I just focused on that, and then I came here and -"
"And what?" I ask. I feel his breath hitch in his chest, and want to say, You don't have to say this now. You're afraid I'll bail again. You don't have to be. I just hold him, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat.
"I met you." he says. "And I started thinking maybe I could be a doctor, and fall in love. But then - " he shuts his eyes abruptly, and I ache to smooth the pain away.
"I don't want to talk anymore, Luke." he says. His voice comes out in short bursts, like he's been running a long distance.
I nod, and untangle myself to go to the bedroom.
He grabs my hand, and pushes me against the door. His breath puffs out, hot and sharp. He places my hands against the door, and plunges his tongue into my mouth.
My fingers curl into fists, but I can't touch him. I jerk against his hands, but his grip is too strong.
"What can I do -" I whisper.
"No more talking," he groans.
Against my thigh, I feel his cock beginning to harden.
I want to make him understand, but I just shift against the door, and nip at his bottom lip with my mouth.
His gaze is hard, and soft at the same time. He releases one of his hands, and traces my cheekbone with his index finger.
He guides into the bedroom, and I kick the door shut with my foot.
"No more talking," I reassure him. I push him back onto the bed, and kiss him deeply.
His hands grasp my shoulders, and he moves to flip me over against the sheets.
"For now," he replies. "No more talking for now."
I stroke his hardening nipples, and feel his cock rubbing against my own.
"For now," I answer.
My hand coasts downward, and I jerk him off in a few quick motions.
His face is almost blank, and he stares up at the ceiling with a singular focus.
"Reid," I say. "Look at me."
When he doesn't answer, I grab his chin, and force his eyes towards mine.
"Look at me." I demand.
He does, finally, and I wish I hadn't been so forceful.
A glimmer of tears pool in his eyes, and I brush them away, slowly.
"What can I do?" I plead. "What can I do to make it better?"
His voice is a shadow, and he blinks twice before gritting his teeth.
"Don't leave." he murmurs. "Just - hold me."
I pull him with me as I roll us onto the bed, so we're both settled comfortably.
He feels my hardness against his thigh, and looks down at it in confusion.
"It's fine," I say. "Don't worry about it."
He nods, once, and shuts his eyes before resting his head against my shoulder.
His fingers play with the hair at the nape of my neck, and I press my lips against his forehead.
As I draw him towards me, I realize that the strong, confident Reid Oliver is not the only man I fell in love with.
I also fell in love with someone damaged. Fitting, since I'm damaged too.
His steady breathing is reassuring against my cheek, and I pull a blanket over us.
I realize that I may have hurt him even more deeply than I realized. His obsession with Noah's ill treatment of me - the immediate comfort when I mentioned my alcoholism. I feel a suspicion build in my chest.
I long to banish the thought, but I can't. I just curl against his body, relishing his warmth.
I feel myself drifting.
When he wakes up, we'll talk.
But for now, no more talking.
Author: Amber
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Sequel to my series. In order, they are: Denial, Acceptance, and Release.
We adjourn to the bedroom, but not before he sets the pancake batter in the fridge.
"My finest work," he murmurs.
I watch him put everything away, methodically. A thought suddenly strikes me, and I blurt out, "Don't you have to go work?" We've been alone together for almost six hours.
He turns to stare at me, and shakes his head slowly.
He closes the refrigerator door with a smack, and walks towards me.
"I requested a week off. I could almost hear Bob fainting on the phone."
My mouth opens and closes, like a fish. "When?" I manage.
"Right after you came to my apartment." he admits. "I thought you might need -" he shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. "It was automatic. I could tell you were having a hard time."
"Thank you," I answer. "Even though I was being so -" I cringe when I remember how I came on to him.
"Stop." he interrupts me, gently. "Stop putting yourself down. You were fine. You just surprised me. I hadn't seen you in months, and then, boom. I didn't know what to think. But after I kicked you out, and you were so obviously worked up about Noah, I just - called Bob. I - had to." He looks uncomfortable, and stares at a spot on the far wall beyond me.
"Thank you," I repeat. "It means so much to me, that you'd do that."
He shrugs, and bends to kiss my forehead. His lips linger on my brow, and I sigh softly. His hands encircle my back. We stand, in silence, for several seconds.
"I wish I could have seen Bob's face," I say.
"Me too," he replies, chuckling.
I look into his eyes, and ache to say the three words. They're hiding underneath the tip of my tongue.
Instead, I say, "So I didn't honestly peg you for a Brokeback Mountain fan."
His face clears, and he says, "It's one of my favorite movies. Ennis' struggle - I can relate to that so much. Not the closeted part, obviously. but -"
"Obviously." I reply.
"But the denial of love, to chase something else. When I was in med school, I'd turn down dates to study. I wanted to be a doctor more than anything. So I just focused on that, and then I came here and -"
"And what?" I ask. I feel his breath hitch in his chest, and want to say, You don't have to say this now. You're afraid I'll bail again. You don't have to be. I just hold him, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat.
"I met you." he says. "And I started thinking maybe I could be a doctor, and fall in love. But then - " he shuts his eyes abruptly, and I ache to smooth the pain away.
"I don't want to talk anymore, Luke." he says. His voice comes out in short bursts, like he's been running a long distance.
I nod, and untangle myself to go to the bedroom.
He grabs my hand, and pushes me against the door. His breath puffs out, hot and sharp. He places my hands against the door, and plunges his tongue into my mouth.
My fingers curl into fists, but I can't touch him. I jerk against his hands, but his grip is too strong.
"What can I do -" I whisper.
"No more talking," he groans.
Against my thigh, I feel his cock beginning to harden.
I want to make him understand, but I just shift against the door, and nip at his bottom lip with my mouth.
His gaze is hard, and soft at the same time. He releases one of his hands, and traces my cheekbone with his index finger.
He guides into the bedroom, and I kick the door shut with my foot.
"No more talking," I reassure him. I push him back onto the bed, and kiss him deeply.
His hands grasp my shoulders, and he moves to flip me over against the sheets.
"For now," he replies. "No more talking for now."
I stroke his hardening nipples, and feel his cock rubbing against my own.
"For now," I answer.
My hand coasts downward, and I jerk him off in a few quick motions.
His face is almost blank, and he stares up at the ceiling with a singular focus.
"Reid," I say. "Look at me."
When he doesn't answer, I grab his chin, and force his eyes towards mine.
"Look at me." I demand.
He does, finally, and I wish I hadn't been so forceful.
A glimmer of tears pool in his eyes, and I brush them away, slowly.
"What can I do?" I plead. "What can I do to make it better?"
His voice is a shadow, and he blinks twice before gritting his teeth.
"Don't leave." he murmurs. "Just - hold me."
I pull him with me as I roll us onto the bed, so we're both settled comfortably.
He feels my hardness against his thigh, and looks down at it in confusion.
"It's fine," I say. "Don't worry about it."
He nods, once, and shuts his eyes before resting his head against my shoulder.
His fingers play with the hair at the nape of my neck, and I press my lips against his forehead.
As I draw him towards me, I realize that the strong, confident Reid Oliver is not the only man I fell in love with.
I also fell in love with someone damaged. Fitting, since I'm damaged too.
His steady breathing is reassuring against my cheek, and I pull a blanket over us.
I realize that I may have hurt him even more deeply than I realized. His obsession with Noah's ill treatment of me - the immediate comfort when I mentioned my alcoholism. I feel a suspicion build in my chest.
I long to banish the thought, but I can't. I just curl against his body, relishing his warmth.
I feel myself drifting.
When he wakes up, we'll talk.
But for now, no more talking.