'Moving Forward' (Part 1) | Annabel/Owen | Rated: Adult | Just Listen FanFiction
Title: Moving Forward
Author(s): nanniclover
Fandom: Inspired on the book Just Listen by Sarah Dessen (writergrl)
Chapter(s): 1
Status: Complete
Word Count: ~17.250 Words
Genre(s): Erotica
Character(s): Annabel & Owen (with brief mention of mostly everyone else in the book)
Pairing(s): Annabel & Owen (with brief mention of Rolly & Clarke)
Rated: Adult
Time Period: Summer after the book ends
Warning(s): Strong Language & Strong Sexual Content
Summary: It’s summer and, after seven months of taking things slow in the intimacy department of their relationship, Annabel decides it’s time to provide them with some needed privacy. However, is it possible that the most honest boy in the world has been hiding something big from his girlfriend? (Owen’s POV)
Soundtrack: A general playlist of songs I think are appropriate for the book, specific characters and this fanfiction. I honestly doubt Owen would approve it, but then again, not everyone can be as “enlightened” as him.
• Butch Walker - Mixtape
• Butch Walker - Take Tomorrow (One Day At A Time)
• Counting Crows - Black And Blue
• Counting Crows - Catapult
• Counting Crows - Murder Of One
• Dashboard Confessional - As Lovers Go
• Dashboard Confessional - Carry This Picture
• David Archuleta - Touch My Hand
• Jonny Lang - Save Yourself
• Lifehouse - Everything
• Pat McGee Band - Annabel
Warning: This story contains Adult-Oriented Themes & age restricted materials of Explicit Content meant for a Mature Audience only. Be strongly cautioned. In order to proceed, you must be of age and legally permitted to view Adult Content in your area.
Disclaimer: All Sarah Dessen characters, places and related depicted on this story are the legal property of herself and various publishers, including but not limited to Orchard Books, Penguin Group, Viking Press. They have been used without their permission, so this story is not endorsed by and is in no way connected to any of the aforementioned parties. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended. No profit is being made from this story, as it is for entertainment purposes only. Rights to characters, places and related and their images is neither claimed nor implied. However, the story remains the property of the author and must not be copied in any form without her consent. No material may be reproduced from this story without expressed permission from its creator.
Moving Forward
By
NanniClover
Author’s Note: If you’d like some visual aids (pictures of characters, places, etc.) check out the 'Moving Forward' Gallery.
In the seven months me and my girlfriend, Annabel, had been together - since we got together that winter, after a temporary fallout on our brief friendship - things between us had been progressing quite leisurely in the intimacy department. I was okay with it, really; glad to provide what she needed and keep her comfortable. And, for sure, taking it as slow as we could was what she needed. Or so I thought.
Then… then that night happened.
Snuck up on me, more like it.
Though, it seems, it was something she had been working her way toward for a while by then. At least according to the conversations she mentioned having with Dr. Hammond, Moira Bell, Whitney and even Clarke! They all revolved, apparently - and, I might add, to my utter mortification - on the subject of facing your fears, not avoiding them, or the source of your traumas, but - instead - facing them, owning them and, finally, taking control. Because, of all things, “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger” - I’m sure I should probably give Moira credit for that one.
Taking all that in consideration, it appears that what I had been doing - with all that taking-it-slow, keeping-her-comfortable, giving-her-space shit - was avoidance. Which, obviously - I can sure tell you - is not good and also not the way to go about things, at all.
That’s how I found myself in a predicament.
You see, it was the third week of summer break and, for the first time in a long time, I had the house all to myself. My mom had some kind of clothing supplier drama that week at the store and had to go out of town to sort it out. Luckily for me, she had the clearness of mind to realize that leaving me to spend a few days alone in the house in charge of my little sister could only end up in fratricide, especially considering the recent - and in Mallory’s opinion - life altering, earth shattering fallout which happened between her and Elinor just before the end of term. She was as obnoxious as she could get since then and my patience had been running thin lately. That’s how it was decided it would be for the best if my sister went to stay with Angela instead. Thank God!
Presented with that advantageous situation, of course, there was just one thing for me to do. I invited Annabel, Rolly and Clarke - since they had been pretty much inseparable since they got together - over to enjoy/discuss music, watch movies, eat greasy pizza - yes, I did bring it home from Slice O’Cheese! - and generally hang out. I mean, that’s what you do, right? When you have the house to yourself, you invite your girlfriend and friends over. Because I am certainly not going to go and do something wild and brainless like throwing a kegger, or some such stupid shit. Nor do I want to, frankly. And, seriously, have you met my mother? She sure can dish out punishment. I’d rather not leave Anger Management - my radio show - on my darling Annabel’s hands again anytime soon. Or ever.
Trying my best to avoid trouble, I made the safe choice there, making plans for a harmless, quiet night in with company. I was out of harm’s way. That is until, after lots of pizza, talking, music, music talking and no movies - apparently Clarke doesn’t watch horror flicks and I was the only one there who didn’t know it, unfortunately, I was also the one in charge of renting the DVDs - Clarke said it was near the time she had to be home for the night. Since Annabel drove her here, Rolly announced he was going to take her and head home himself afterwards. That’s when I remembered I still had to burn him the CD I had promised him, so we both went to the computer and left the girls talking on the living room couch.
The CD was of this great, experimental, euro group I had discovered just the other day, with really out there, in your face music. They use vegetables, of all things, as instruments! How amazing is that? So I just had to show it to him; I was thinking of putting some of it in that week’s show.
Once the CD was burned and we were done, everyone said their goodbyes and Rolly and Clarke left. That’s when Annabel said we should clean up the kitchen, to which I responded I could do it on my own later, since I didn’t want to waste any of my time with her doing dishes - of all things. Plus, there were still the movies to watch. Her answer to that surprised me, though.
“Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of time. We can watch all of those movies later.” She said, walking in front of me into the kitchen and starting to round up the glasses into her arms.
“We do?” I asked, confused. “We can?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” She replied simply, continuing with her domestic task.
“No, really, Annabel. It’s getting late. Aren’t you expected home soon?”
You gotta understand, it’s not that I wanted her to leave - not at all. I just didn’t want her to get in trouble with her parents.
She put the glasses down in the sink and slowly turned around to look at me before she answered. Just now that she was facing me, did I notice she was blushing and it only intensified as she said, “Not, really. No,” while shaking her head.
“What do you mean?” I questioned, more confused with each reply she gave me.
“Um, well, you see… My parents…” She trailed off. “They’re not exactly, um, expecting me home tonight.” She finally told me, eyes locked on the countertop all the while, as she fidgeted with the hem of the turquoise top she was wearing.
“Not exactly expecting you home tonight?” I inquired, narrowing my eyes suspiciously at her as I figured she was intently avoiding my eyes and giving me a direct answer.
“Yes.” She lifted her chin defiantly.
“Why?” I shot straight back.
“Well, they’ve been informed I have plans.” She explained vaguely, then added, “Elsewhere.”
“Plans? Elsewhere, huh?” I asked, giving her a look that said she wasn’t fooling me. “Super vague.” I pointed out. “Placeholder. Double placeholder.” I knew she couldn’t argue with this, it was her line after all.
“Right.” She sighed, frustrated, then went on. “They might have been given the impression I’m spending time at Clarke’s.”
“Might have been given the impression?” I repeated her words once more, appalled by what they probably meant. I enunciated each one that dissatisfied me.
“Exactly.” She had the nerve to answer, nodding vehemently.
“R and R.” I demanded.
“Ha! That’s not at all I-Lang! Besides, I can’t. As I said before, that’s just exactly it.”
“Exactly it, huh?” I was starting to feel like a parrot and it was getting me nowhere. So I decided instead to ask, point-blank. “Did you lie to them?”
If she did, I would’ve been seriously disappointed in her. Though, I’m ashamed to admit, there was this big part of me that was thrilled and immensely flattered that she might have gone through all of this just to spend the night with me.
“No, I haven’t!” She exclaimed, indignantly.
Good, I thought. “How so?” I asked, instead. Trying to understand how in the world she had managed to get to spend the night out, because sure as hell, her parents wouldn’t have let her if they knew where she was.
“Well, since my parents were at work when I left, I asked Whitney to pass along the message.”
“So you had your sister lie for you, Annabel?!” I couldn’t believe my ears, this was deeply disturbing and I was getting progressively annoyed.
“I did no such thing. I just asked her to tell them I was going to Clarke’s this afternoon, that tonight it would be pizza and movie night and that I wanted to talk and spend time with her, but they could reach me on my cell whenever. All of which are perfectly true statements.”
I had to give it to her: technically, she really hadn’t lied, or made Whitney lie for her. Nevertheless, I wasn’t about to say I was impressed by her ingenious ability at deceit. She manipulated truthful information into conveying an untruthful idea. How very fallacious of her.
“It’s still wrong and you know it! You tricked them all into believing something that isn’t true. And you did it on purpose, too.” I reprimanded her.
“I know I did, Owen. I’m not saying I’m proud of it, but it was my choice and this is the one that I made.” She paused and took a deep breath; ran her hands through her hair and then went on, her voice now devoid of any of the confrontation that had just transpired between us. “Look, I knew this was a long shot. That it was possible that you might get angry with me and, now that I sprung all of this on you, you obviously are. So it’s up to you now; your choice.”
I had no idea what she meant by this, so I waited for her to proceed.
“I can either leave or stay. There’s here, my house, or even Clarke’s for me to spend the night. And I also can go either now or later.” She pointed out all of the options. “You decide.” She told me, looking openly, frankly, straight at me.
I was impressed, I’m sure that was hard for her and it took a lot of guts. She had me there and she probably knew it, too. Who knew Annabel could be so sneaky? There obviously was only one option I’d want. I realized she probably knew that, too. Why else go through all the trouble? Okay, so maybe I was being manipulated and this was really just a fictional choice and there was only one outcome for this story: the one she chose. But, honestly? I couldn’t have cared less.
“Of course I don’t want you to leave, Bel.” I was the one running my hands through my hair now and abandoning the confrontational tone in my voice. Okay, so sue me! I’m like putty in her hands and also, a while after we had gotten together, I’d taken to calling Annabel by this pet name I gave her. So, yeah, you can mock me all you want and say Owen Armstrong has gone soft and is whipped, doing mushy, couple-ly, name calling stuff.
“We can still watch the movie and I can go later, if you prefer it that way.” She offered me an alternative again.
All right, so maybe for her it wasn’t just a fictional choice she presented me with. Yet, the outcome would still be the same.
“I won’t want you to leave then, anymore than I do right now.” I stated as I stepped closer to her.
“I never said you had to want me to leave, Owen. All that I said was that there were options and you had the choice of whether I leave… or not.” She smiled a little as she said that last part, at the same time twirling the silver ring with the same two words around my right middle finger.
“Well, it’s always good to know your options.” I said, a bit sarcastically, I must admit. “Even though there was ever only one I would choose.” As I said this, my voice was lower and I put my arms around her waist, leaning down. My lips were barely touching her smiling ones as I told her, “Stay.”
I had no idea if that was the right choice for me to make, or if maybe it was the morally wrong one, as an alternative. If it made me a hypocritical guy, or turned me into a manipulated one. But, honestly? As Annabel’s lips pressed against mine, I just couldn’t have cared less.
* * *
I don’t know how long we stood there, in the middle of my kitchen, kissing each other long and slowly. The kiss was sweet and soft, tender and intimate and when we finally pulled apart for air, I wished we hadn’t. I think Annabel did, too.
Afterwards, as I showered small kisses all over her face, I found myself thinking I couldn’t remember the last time we had kissed so freely like that and I was shocked to realize the reason was because we never actually had. This was the first time, in all the time we’d been together, that we were totally and truly alone. It was unprecedented for us having no worries about having an appointment elsewhere sometime soon; or parents being around; sisters barging in; schoolmates staring, pointing and gossiping; being in entirely-too-public places; or even being between private, yet inconvenient, glass walls.
This felt absolutely great, having this level of privacy. This freedom! Time stretching before us undeterred. It was perfect! So much so that suddenly I was very thankful to Annabel for having the brilliant - if a little misguided - idea of providing us with this opportunity.
“You know, you truly proved yourself to be a sneaky one, arranging this. Making me contribute to the delinquency of a minor, you!” I teased her.
She leveled me a look - the one she gives me whenever I pull the ‘I’m older/bigger/stronger/more enlightened/etc than you’ card on her.
“Okay, so we’re both minors, so that’s not such a big deal.” I amended as I went on. “And, of course, there’s going to be no delinquency, but still. Who knew you could be such a little minx, making sure you would get your way in the end?!” I taunted her some more.
“I didn’t know I would get my way. I thought you’d probably get really mad and send me packing. I’m surprised you didn’t, in fact. You handled it exceptionally well.”
“I guess I was much too flattered that you went through all the hassle just to spend some time with me.” I smiled at her, then sobered up, considering what she told me the moment before. “Did you truly think I would tell you to leave?”
“Well, yeah.” She confirmed sheepishly. “I considered it a possibility just as the rest. I mean, if only to show me how wrong you thought what I did was.”
“I think you know it was wrong and just how wrong it was. You misled them. I don’t think it’s my place to punish you about it, though. Knowing you, I think you’ll do it enough on your own.” She was staring down her feet as I said this and I instantly knew I was right. It made my heart clench. “Hey.” I brought her attention back to me, pulling her face up by the chin. “For what it’s worth, I never even considered telling you to leave as a possibility.”
She smiled, then, and it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.
“That’s good to know.” She whispered. And then she kissed me again.
We were getting pretty good at that, now that we had the house to ourselves and all the time in the world before us - okay, maybe not all that. So much so that the dishes were forgotten and left behind soon after. We were kissing with just as much abandon as before, but, this time, suddenly there was an undercurrent of urgency to our actions. The way her fingers moved from my shoulders - her usual, safe place of choice - and tangled instead in the hair at the back of my head possessively, pulling me to her. The way I obliged and responded by taking another step forward and, in doing so, found that was pressing her between myself and the counter. That felt good. The way her tongue was demanding in my mouth and she pushed her body against mine. That felt really good. It was all so new and sweet and exciting for us; and lacing it all was the thrill of knowing we could do it freely, mixed with the contradicting sense of urgency it brought with it.
Gradually, as if already regretting she was doing it, Annabel removed her hands from my hair. I felt her wriggle a little against me and then she was eye-level with me; perched up on the high countertop with her bare feet dangling on my sides and the crinkled material of her gauze skirt flowing shapely over her thighs. I remembered giving her that skirt. It had been the main reason for a discussion between my mom and sister in that same kitchen; one trying to convince the other of whether Annabel - a former model, with tons of label clothes - would like a natural fabric skirt, from Dreamweavers, as a gift. In the end it had been me who decided, saying she would look good in it. Which she obviously did. And I thought she liked the skirt too, I’d seen her wearing it a few times since the weather warmed up.
I looked down at Annabel, she really did look great; her turquoise top made her eyes even bluer and the bow on the frilly neckline was so girly it was adorable. Her lips were swollen, her hair a little mussed up and there was some pink on her cheeks, even with the tan she had from the summer sun. I had done that to her, I realized as I watched her trying to catch her breath. It made me a bit proud of myself. It made me want to make her even more out of breath.
“You’re so beautiful, Annabel.” I told her, cupping her delicate face in my too-big-hands and then I kissed her some more.
Kissing Annabel isn’t like kissing any of the girls I’ve hooked up with before. She always tastes sweet and the kissing isn’t just something to get through to get somewhere else ahead; I really enjoy it and I was content with doing just that for a long time. However, we needed to come up for air at some point, so I took that opportunity to trail kisses over her jaw line and down her neck, as my fingers went into her silken blond hair. She gasped when she felt my tongue on her pulse point - it isn’t only her mouth that tastes so sweet - and sighed while I gave her an open-mouthed kiss there, then she whispered - practically moaned - my name as I nipped at her skin gently. That was new; the neck action and her reactions, too. I liked it. Both things. A lot. She was driving me crazy, actually, especially adding the fact that she was doing yet another new thing: her soft hands were roaming over my back gently, skimming the skin through my T-shirt and kneading the knots I had from delivering pizzas earlier that day.
That’s when she pulled away a little. Her eyes wide and full of trust, they stared steadily into mine for a while, intensely so. I love how she can do that now - even if it disconcerts me at times; like that first time, in front of the courthouse, when I acted like a bumbling idiot - after so much avoidance. Avoidance of confrontation, of eye contact, of opening up, of letting people in, of herself, of the truth, of life, and so on and on… But the way she does it now - the way she looks, stares, with those beautiful, sparkling blue eyes of hers - it is great. She expresses so much through it. And it felt to me like she could read my soul like an open book in return as she did it then, too.
And so I let her. How could I not? I mean, I’m the honest guy who doesn’t lie, right?
Yeah, right!
Because omission isn’t the same as lying, is it? But wasn’t I the one who once told Annabel that just not saying something out loud is still participating in a deception? That there’s no difference between lying and not telling? That not saying exactly what you think is still a lie? Even to spare people? Even if you mean well? And the ironic - if not the evil - thing about it all was that I was neither sparing her, nor meaning well in doing so. I was just being a plain coward not telling her what should. Yes, I could knock cold a bully like Ronnie in front of his watching pack of friends and then get into a fight in a club and subsequently get arrested, but it seemed I just couldn’t bring myself to say this one thing to her and actually be the honest guy I’d thought myself to be.
So I let her stare at me and hoped she might read my soul like an open book. Maybe she could see it there. The thing I was unable to say out loud.
But what she did, instead, was lean up to me and, as her soft lips touched mine, mumble, “Thank you”.
I must admit, the disappointment that gripped me felt like two big iron hands pressing in on my chest. I really had wanted it to be that easy, though I never really thought it would actually be that easy for me. So I kissed her back and tried to convey all the things I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud in that kiss, in holding her body carefully, yet tightly, close to mine, in caressing her cheek, in running my fingers over her back, then tangling them into her hair so I could bring her even closer and kiss her more and more and show her. And she was right there with me - on me - kissing me back just as passionately, with just as much fervor, and it was maddening, but in an extremely good way. Her delicate hands were on my chest, my arms, my shoulders, my back, my hair; her soft, pink lips and her sweet tongue, inquisitive and demanding inside my mouth. It was great! It was Heaven!
And it also had to stop. Soon.
I am a guy, after all. A red-blooded, hormone-crazed, teenage male and there’s only so much I can handle of having a hot girl - not just any girl, mind you, but my incredible girlfriend, Annabel, the former model - virtually on my lap, kissing me like there’s no tomorrow.
I am, too, after all, not just an honest guy - my cowardice overlooked for the moment - but also a gentleman, it seemed. Or, in the least, I was trying to be. Take for instance how, since me and aforementioned girlfriend had gotten together, I had been trying my best to keep things between us under control on the intimacy front and respectful when it comes to boundaries, especially considering the traumatic events she went through just the previous summer. This, however, was proving to be quite difficult at that moment; even more so with our recently acquired freedom and my newfound desire of showing her what I didn’t say.
So it was very reluctantly, I admit, that I pulled away and disentangled myself a bit from her, after I caught myself fiddling with the hem of her top with every intention of caressing the skin underneath it.
“Sorry, I-” I had no idea of what to say and my voice sounded strained from the effort of separating myself from her. “Maybe we should watch those movies, then.” I know: lame!
“Oh.” Annabel’s face showed confusion and - I think - a bit of disappointment, too. “You don’t have to do that, you know?” She asked ever so softly.
“Watch movies?” I was a bit lost. Still dizzy from the kiss, admittedly.
“You don’t have to move away from me. You can touch me, you know, Owen?” Annabel was frowning, her head bowed, looking at her hands, now lying limp on her lap, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m not going to break if you do.”
Oh. Now I really had no idea of what to say and my voice bailed on me.
“I- I mean, unless you- unless you don’t want to. It’s okay if you-” It was the wavering in her voice and her unsure tone that brought me back to my senses.
“No, Annabel, it’s not that. I want to. Trust me, I do.”
“It’s just that I don’t understand.” She went on, as if I hadn’t said anything. She was looking at me, but the frown was still marring her pretty face. “I thought, at first, that you just wanted to give me space; what with everything that happened, that you were taking things slow with me. Then I thought it was because we had no privacy, or time. Though, really, we had, if only a bit. But now… I don’t understand.” She sighed and it sounded a lot like defeat, I hated the sound of it. “We have time, we’re completely alone and we’ve been together for seven months, but you still pulled away. Is it-?”
Annabel seemed to have an inner debate on whether she, in fact, wanted to finish the question or not. I realized it was most likely because she knew I would answer it truthfully and it baffled me that she thought I may say something so awful she might not even want to know my answer.
“What is it, Bel?” I prodded a little, using the warmest and most reassuring tone I could muster. “Please, tell me.” I pleaded with her, coaxing her hands into my own.
“It’s just that, ever since I told you about what happened with Will, things have been different.” She told me, her eyes wide, staring into mine, and her hands squeezing my own, as if gathering the strength to say the things she wanted to. “You’ve never kissed me the way you did in the car wash until just now, except you still pulled away. It’s as if you’re holding back. As if you don’t want to really touch me now that you know the things he did to me.” She glanced down at our hands, then took a deep breath and asked me, “Is it? Is it because of that, Owen?”
I was absolutely perplexed that she would come up with such an idea and also extremely mad. Not at her, though. At Will. That after everything the jerk had put her through, there were still more ways in which she could be hurt by them. Luckily, it was in my power to make sure this wasn’t one of those cases.
“No, Annabel, it’s not.” I told her, looking into her eyes and could see her beginning to breathe again. “Not that way, anyways.” I added.
“What do you mean?” She asked, watchful once more.
“What you thought at first was right: I’m just trying to take things slow with you. I want to give you space. It’s not that I don’t want to touch you.” I explained, putting her hair behind her ear and brushing my thumb over her rosy cheek. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression all this time.”
“Actually, that stupid idea just occurred to me.” She bit her lip sheepishly. “Up until five minutes ago I was still working under the impression that it was the lack of privacy.” Annabel clarified.
“Oh.” I nodded, gazing at her, then it hit me. “Oh. You mean-? I mean-” I motioned around us at the empty kitchen, meaning to illustrate all of the privacy we now had. She simply nodded, her cheeks turning red. “Oh!”
“I mean, I do appreciate your thoughtfulness, Owen, giving me space and all. But I don’t need that much space, you know?” I could see she was a bit embarrassed as she said this; it was very endearing.
“Are you sure? I just don’t want to rush things now and make it uncomfortable for you later on.” I explained, running my hands over her arms. It seemed that from the moment I realized I could touch her I couldn’t get enough of it.
“It’s alright, I got it all worked out. Well, talked out, is more like it.”
“You do?” I’m sure she could see the surprise on my face.
“Owen, I know this may seem a little sudden to you, but really it’s something I’ve been working toward for a while now. It has been talked with Dr. Hammond and Moira; they actually think it has taken too long, especially considering our age. We’re not going to rush things though, we’re just moving forward, which is natural in any relationship.” Annabel was nibbling on her lip, apprehensively awaiting an answer.
“Of course it is, Bel. I’m just worried that our situation is a bit different. After all you’ve been through, I don’t want to push yo-”
“After all I’ve been through, I shouldn’t have to go without anything else because of it.” She cut me off, quite reasonably. “I trust you; you wouldn’t be pushing me, Owen. I- I want to be close to my boyfriend; that’s only normal. And I want normal back. Isn’t that what I’ve been working toward with therapy and all? This is just part of it, part of my healing process. Now, you’re the only one who can help me with this next step; the only one I trust to. That and I quite enjoy having you close by.” With that, she demonstrated her point by pulling me closer to her by tugging on my T-shirt, a coy smile on her lips.
How much more amazing can she get? I wondered. She really did have it all worked out. So who was I to say ‘no’ and stand in the way of her progress? Not that I wanted to, anyway.
“That’s good to know.” I whispered. And then I kissed her again. Only, this time, I didn’t hold back.
* * *
Pretty soon we found our way back to the point where we were before I interrupted our little encounter on the counter. Only this time I didn’t stop myself when my hands wandered to the hem of her top and I did caress the warm, smooth skin underneath it. Annabel probably took that as encouragement and dared herself to plunge her soft hands under my T-shirt, tracing her fingertips over the small of my back and up my spine, to then continue kneading the knots on my muscles. As a result, I felt like I was melting in her hands - not very manly, I recognize - as if I were play dough and she could change me into whatever shape she wanted me to be and I would willingly comply.
This felt so good; to finally have her hands on me and mine on her. I had no idea how much I had wanted this - needed it - before I had it; how much I had been holding myself back until she allowed me not to.
Time went on unchecked for us. Again and again my lips met the soft spot on her neck and we let our tongues dance in each others’ mouths as her fingers danced over my skin and - my mind only realized this by her hushed intake of breath and the way her body unexpectedly tensed - mine on hers. Apparently my hands had a schedule of their own and had already made the acquaintance of her lower back and stomach and were now aiming higher up her waist, toward the line of her bra.
This is what I would usually have done when I felt the need to keep things between us under control and respect the boundaries: pull away from her; probably apologize; mention there was some thing/where else we should be doing/going, which in most cases was true. This is what I did instead, since we were supposed to be moving forward and all: I left my hands where they were, though they didn’t inch further up, my fingertips tracing what I hoped were soothing circles on the skin of her ribcage; I searched her eyes, trying to gauge her reaction; with complete honesty, I told her, “We can stop now, if you want, Bel. Anytime you want, just say the word and we’ll stop.”
Annabel closed her eyes, took a deep, steadying breath, then looked at my face with those bright blue eyes of hers. And she smiled. Such a pure, trusting little smile, it made me feel full to the brim.
“I know.” She whispered. Her hand came to cup my jaw and she nodded. “I know. I trust you, Owen.” Her big eyes, staring back at me, were so sincere I couldn’t have doubted her, even if I had wanted to. “I don’t want you to stop… Don’t hold back.” And she pulled my face down to hers and kissed me.
I mean, she thoroughly kissed me. It was the first time I had Annabel kissing me that way and I enjoyed every last second of it. It wasn’t hurried or desperate. It was slow, almost painfully so. However, it was all the more sexy because of it; the leisure way her tongue played with mine, the measured way she dragged her nails over my scalp and the nape of my neck, the deliberate way she ran her teeth over my lower lip and bit lightly. I could feel my body beginning to respond to the attention. Who knew Annabel could be such a tease? Who knew torture could feel so good? She unhurriedly pressed herself to me, at the same time she draw me by my shoulders to her, making all of her delicious curves outline my body perfectly. It was all the encouragement I needed to go on - to ‘move forward’, as she put it.
My hands advanced up, my fingers spread and shaped over her satiny bra, cupping her through it. Her back arched a little and her shallow breaths pushed her pebbled nipples even deeper into my palm. She fit flawlessly: just the right size for me, her flesh was supple and smooth above the edge of the fabric. She gasped slightly into my mouth as I gave a gentle squeeze and the next thing she did was so startling and enticing she had me gasping and moaning into hers. She wrapped her legs around me. Not only that, but she also locked them at the ankles, pulling me into her, and arched her back a bit further - our hips bumping agonizingly, yet wonderfully so.
There was no way Annabel didn’t know the sort of effect this - namely her - was having on me by that point. The evidence was - quite conspicuously - pressed between us. I didn’t want her to think it meant anything more than what it did, though - meaning: I really enjoyed what we were doing. It certainly didn’t mean anything was required of her and the last thing I wanted was to scare her off. So, once again, I found myself divided between options; I could either address the issue - and maybe embarrass myself making a big deal about something that wasn’t - or I could go on as if nothing was the matter - except that maybe it was for her.
I guessed embarrassment never killed anyone, right?
I kissed her a little bit more - slowly, trying to catch my breath; I just couldn’t help it, really - as my hands slid from her breasts to her waist and ended up resting atop her covered thighs. When I figured I could talk, I rested my forehead against hers and started.
“Annabel, it doesn-”
“Let’s go to the couch.” She interrupted me, still a bit breathless, securing her arms around my neck in the same manner as her legs were around my hips.
O-kay… So I figured that could possibly mean she wanted to put some distance between the two of us and, perhaps, watch those horror flicks after all… Although, the way she was clinging close - with all four limbs, I might add - didn’t exactly send that message. It seemed more like she wanted to take what we were doing to the couch and continue it over there.
“Yo- Do you want to watch the movies?” I asked stupidly, hating the way my voice hitched and wavered as if I hadn’t already gone through puberty.
Annabel looked up at me and blinked slowly; two pink petals bloomed on her cheeks as she shook her head once, biting on her bottom lip. She looked somewhat dazed; I admit I felt precisely the same way.
“Okay.” I said and kissed her. “Okay.” This time I kissed her longer and let my hands caress the sides of her thighs so that when she raised herself slightly off the counter all I had to do was lift her the rest of the way up with me.
* * *
( to be continued...)
Author(s): nanniclover
Fandom: Inspired on the book Just Listen by Sarah Dessen (writergrl)
Chapter(s): 1
Status: Complete
Word Count: ~17.250 Words
Genre(s): Erotica
Character(s): Annabel & Owen (with brief mention of mostly everyone else in the book)
Pairing(s): Annabel & Owen (with brief mention of Rolly & Clarke)
Rated: Adult
Time Period: Summer after the book ends
Warning(s): Strong Language & Strong Sexual Content
Summary: It’s summer and, after seven months of taking things slow in the intimacy department of their relationship, Annabel decides it’s time to provide them with some needed privacy. However, is it possible that the most honest boy in the world has been hiding something big from his girlfriend? (Owen’s POV)
Soundtrack: A general playlist of songs I think are appropriate for the book, specific characters and this fanfiction. I honestly doubt Owen would approve it, but then again, not everyone can be as “enlightened” as him.
• Butch Walker - Mixtape
• Butch Walker - Take Tomorrow (One Day At A Time)
• Counting Crows - Black And Blue
• Counting Crows - Catapult
• Counting Crows - Murder Of One
• Dashboard Confessional - As Lovers Go
• Dashboard Confessional - Carry This Picture
• David Archuleta - Touch My Hand
• Jonny Lang - Save Yourself
• Lifehouse - Everything
• Pat McGee Band - Annabel
Warning: This story contains Adult-Oriented Themes & age restricted materials of Explicit Content meant for a Mature Audience only. Be strongly cautioned. In order to proceed, you must be of age and legally permitted to view Adult Content in your area.
Disclaimer: All Sarah Dessen characters, places and related depicted on this story are the legal property of herself and various publishers, including but not limited to Orchard Books, Penguin Group, Viking Press. They have been used without their permission, so this story is not endorsed by and is in no way connected to any of the aforementioned parties. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended. No profit is being made from this story, as it is for entertainment purposes only. Rights to characters, places and related and their images is neither claimed nor implied. However, the story remains the property of the author and must not be copied in any form without her consent. No material may be reproduced from this story without expressed permission from its creator.
Moving Forward
By
NanniClover
Author’s Note: If you’d like some visual aids (pictures of characters, places, etc.) check out the 'Moving Forward' Gallery.
In the seven months me and my girlfriend, Annabel, had been together - since we got together that winter, after a temporary fallout on our brief friendship - things between us had been progressing quite leisurely in the intimacy department. I was okay with it, really; glad to provide what she needed and keep her comfortable. And, for sure, taking it as slow as we could was what she needed. Or so I thought.
Then… then that night happened.
Snuck up on me, more like it.
Though, it seems, it was something she had been working her way toward for a while by then. At least according to the conversations she mentioned having with Dr. Hammond, Moira Bell, Whitney and even Clarke! They all revolved, apparently - and, I might add, to my utter mortification - on the subject of facing your fears, not avoiding them, or the source of your traumas, but - instead - facing them, owning them and, finally, taking control. Because, of all things, “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger” - I’m sure I should probably give Moira credit for that one.
Taking all that in consideration, it appears that what I had been doing - with all that taking-it-slow, keeping-her-comfortable, giving-her-space shit - was avoidance. Which, obviously - I can sure tell you - is not good and also not the way to go about things, at all.
That’s how I found myself in a predicament.
You see, it was the third week of summer break and, for the first time in a long time, I had the house all to myself. My mom had some kind of clothing supplier drama that week at the store and had to go out of town to sort it out. Luckily for me, she had the clearness of mind to realize that leaving me to spend a few days alone in the house in charge of my little sister could only end up in fratricide, especially considering the recent - and in Mallory’s opinion - life altering, earth shattering fallout which happened between her and Elinor just before the end of term. She was as obnoxious as she could get since then and my patience had been running thin lately. That’s how it was decided it would be for the best if my sister went to stay with Angela instead. Thank God!
Presented with that advantageous situation, of course, there was just one thing for me to do. I invited Annabel, Rolly and Clarke - since they had been pretty much inseparable since they got together - over to enjoy/discuss music, watch movies, eat greasy pizza - yes, I did bring it home from Slice O’Cheese! - and generally hang out. I mean, that’s what you do, right? When you have the house to yourself, you invite your girlfriend and friends over. Because I am certainly not going to go and do something wild and brainless like throwing a kegger, or some such stupid shit. Nor do I want to, frankly. And, seriously, have you met my mother? She sure can dish out punishment. I’d rather not leave Anger Management - my radio show - on my darling Annabel’s hands again anytime soon. Or ever.
Trying my best to avoid trouble, I made the safe choice there, making plans for a harmless, quiet night in with company. I was out of harm’s way. That is until, after lots of pizza, talking, music, music talking and no movies - apparently Clarke doesn’t watch horror flicks and I was the only one there who didn’t know it, unfortunately, I was also the one in charge of renting the DVDs - Clarke said it was near the time she had to be home for the night. Since Annabel drove her here, Rolly announced he was going to take her and head home himself afterwards. That’s when I remembered I still had to burn him the CD I had promised him, so we both went to the computer and left the girls talking on the living room couch.
The CD was of this great, experimental, euro group I had discovered just the other day, with really out there, in your face music. They use vegetables, of all things, as instruments! How amazing is that? So I just had to show it to him; I was thinking of putting some of it in that week’s show.
Once the CD was burned and we were done, everyone said their goodbyes and Rolly and Clarke left. That’s when Annabel said we should clean up the kitchen, to which I responded I could do it on my own later, since I didn’t want to waste any of my time with her doing dishes - of all things. Plus, there were still the movies to watch. Her answer to that surprised me, though.
“Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of time. We can watch all of those movies later.” She said, walking in front of me into the kitchen and starting to round up the glasses into her arms.
“We do?” I asked, confused. “We can?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” She replied simply, continuing with her domestic task.
“No, really, Annabel. It’s getting late. Aren’t you expected home soon?”
You gotta understand, it’s not that I wanted her to leave - not at all. I just didn’t want her to get in trouble with her parents.
She put the glasses down in the sink and slowly turned around to look at me before she answered. Just now that she was facing me, did I notice she was blushing and it only intensified as she said, “Not, really. No,” while shaking her head.
“What do you mean?” I questioned, more confused with each reply she gave me.
“Um, well, you see… My parents…” She trailed off. “They’re not exactly, um, expecting me home tonight.” She finally told me, eyes locked on the countertop all the while, as she fidgeted with the hem of the turquoise top she was wearing.
“Not exactly expecting you home tonight?” I inquired, narrowing my eyes suspiciously at her as I figured she was intently avoiding my eyes and giving me a direct answer.
“Yes.” She lifted her chin defiantly.
“Why?” I shot straight back.
“Well, they’ve been informed I have plans.” She explained vaguely, then added, “Elsewhere.”
“Plans? Elsewhere, huh?” I asked, giving her a look that said she wasn’t fooling me. “Super vague.” I pointed out. “Placeholder. Double placeholder.” I knew she couldn’t argue with this, it was her line after all.
“Right.” She sighed, frustrated, then went on. “They might have been given the impression I’m spending time at Clarke’s.”
“Might have been given the impression?” I repeated her words once more, appalled by what they probably meant. I enunciated each one that dissatisfied me.
“Exactly.” She had the nerve to answer, nodding vehemently.
“R and R.” I demanded.
“Ha! That’s not at all I-Lang! Besides, I can’t. As I said before, that’s just exactly it.”
“Exactly it, huh?” I was starting to feel like a parrot and it was getting me nowhere. So I decided instead to ask, point-blank. “Did you lie to them?”
If she did, I would’ve been seriously disappointed in her. Though, I’m ashamed to admit, there was this big part of me that was thrilled and immensely flattered that she might have gone through all of this just to spend the night with me.
“No, I haven’t!” She exclaimed, indignantly.
Good, I thought. “How so?” I asked, instead. Trying to understand how in the world she had managed to get to spend the night out, because sure as hell, her parents wouldn’t have let her if they knew where she was.
“Well, since my parents were at work when I left, I asked Whitney to pass along the message.”
“So you had your sister lie for you, Annabel?!” I couldn’t believe my ears, this was deeply disturbing and I was getting progressively annoyed.
“I did no such thing. I just asked her to tell them I was going to Clarke’s this afternoon, that tonight it would be pizza and movie night and that I wanted to talk and spend time with her, but they could reach me on my cell whenever. All of which are perfectly true statements.”
I had to give it to her: technically, she really hadn’t lied, or made Whitney lie for her. Nevertheless, I wasn’t about to say I was impressed by her ingenious ability at deceit. She manipulated truthful information into conveying an untruthful idea. How very fallacious of her.
“It’s still wrong and you know it! You tricked them all into believing something that isn’t true. And you did it on purpose, too.” I reprimanded her.
“I know I did, Owen. I’m not saying I’m proud of it, but it was my choice and this is the one that I made.” She paused and took a deep breath; ran her hands through her hair and then went on, her voice now devoid of any of the confrontation that had just transpired between us. “Look, I knew this was a long shot. That it was possible that you might get angry with me and, now that I sprung all of this on you, you obviously are. So it’s up to you now; your choice.”
I had no idea what she meant by this, so I waited for her to proceed.
“I can either leave or stay. There’s here, my house, or even Clarke’s for me to spend the night. And I also can go either now or later.” She pointed out all of the options. “You decide.” She told me, looking openly, frankly, straight at me.
I was impressed, I’m sure that was hard for her and it took a lot of guts. She had me there and she probably knew it, too. Who knew Annabel could be so sneaky? There obviously was only one option I’d want. I realized she probably knew that, too. Why else go through all the trouble? Okay, so maybe I was being manipulated and this was really just a fictional choice and there was only one outcome for this story: the one she chose. But, honestly? I couldn’t have cared less.
“Of course I don’t want you to leave, Bel.” I was the one running my hands through my hair now and abandoning the confrontational tone in my voice. Okay, so sue me! I’m like putty in her hands and also, a while after we had gotten together, I’d taken to calling Annabel by this pet name I gave her. So, yeah, you can mock me all you want and say Owen Armstrong has gone soft and is whipped, doing mushy, couple-ly, name calling stuff.
“We can still watch the movie and I can go later, if you prefer it that way.” She offered me an alternative again.
All right, so maybe for her it wasn’t just a fictional choice she presented me with. Yet, the outcome would still be the same.
“I won’t want you to leave then, anymore than I do right now.” I stated as I stepped closer to her.
“I never said you had to want me to leave, Owen. All that I said was that there were options and you had the choice of whether I leave… or not.” She smiled a little as she said that last part, at the same time twirling the silver ring with the same two words around my right middle finger.
“Well, it’s always good to know your options.” I said, a bit sarcastically, I must admit. “Even though there was ever only one I would choose.” As I said this, my voice was lower and I put my arms around her waist, leaning down. My lips were barely touching her smiling ones as I told her, “Stay.”
I had no idea if that was the right choice for me to make, or if maybe it was the morally wrong one, as an alternative. If it made me a hypocritical guy, or turned me into a manipulated one. But, honestly? As Annabel’s lips pressed against mine, I just couldn’t have cared less.
* * *
I don’t know how long we stood there, in the middle of my kitchen, kissing each other long and slowly. The kiss was sweet and soft, tender and intimate and when we finally pulled apart for air, I wished we hadn’t. I think Annabel did, too.
Afterwards, as I showered small kisses all over her face, I found myself thinking I couldn’t remember the last time we had kissed so freely like that and I was shocked to realize the reason was because we never actually had. This was the first time, in all the time we’d been together, that we were totally and truly alone. It was unprecedented for us having no worries about having an appointment elsewhere sometime soon; or parents being around; sisters barging in; schoolmates staring, pointing and gossiping; being in entirely-too-public places; or even being between private, yet inconvenient, glass walls.
This felt absolutely great, having this level of privacy. This freedom! Time stretching before us undeterred. It was perfect! So much so that suddenly I was very thankful to Annabel for having the brilliant - if a little misguided - idea of providing us with this opportunity.
“You know, you truly proved yourself to be a sneaky one, arranging this. Making me contribute to the delinquency of a minor, you!” I teased her.
She leveled me a look - the one she gives me whenever I pull the ‘I’m older/bigger/stronger/more enlightened/etc than you’ card on her.
“Okay, so we’re both minors, so that’s not such a big deal.” I amended as I went on. “And, of course, there’s going to be no delinquency, but still. Who knew you could be such a little minx, making sure you would get your way in the end?!” I taunted her some more.
“I didn’t know I would get my way. I thought you’d probably get really mad and send me packing. I’m surprised you didn’t, in fact. You handled it exceptionally well.”
“I guess I was much too flattered that you went through all the hassle just to spend some time with me.” I smiled at her, then sobered up, considering what she told me the moment before. “Did you truly think I would tell you to leave?”
“Well, yeah.” She confirmed sheepishly. “I considered it a possibility just as the rest. I mean, if only to show me how wrong you thought what I did was.”
“I think you know it was wrong and just how wrong it was. You misled them. I don’t think it’s my place to punish you about it, though. Knowing you, I think you’ll do it enough on your own.” She was staring down her feet as I said this and I instantly knew I was right. It made my heart clench. “Hey.” I brought her attention back to me, pulling her face up by the chin. “For what it’s worth, I never even considered telling you to leave as a possibility.”
She smiled, then, and it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.
“That’s good to know.” She whispered. And then she kissed me again.
We were getting pretty good at that, now that we had the house to ourselves and all the time in the world before us - okay, maybe not all that. So much so that the dishes were forgotten and left behind soon after. We were kissing with just as much abandon as before, but, this time, suddenly there was an undercurrent of urgency to our actions. The way her fingers moved from my shoulders - her usual, safe place of choice - and tangled instead in the hair at the back of my head possessively, pulling me to her. The way I obliged and responded by taking another step forward and, in doing so, found that was pressing her between myself and the counter. That felt good. The way her tongue was demanding in my mouth and she pushed her body against mine. That felt really good. It was all so new and sweet and exciting for us; and lacing it all was the thrill of knowing we could do it freely, mixed with the contradicting sense of urgency it brought with it.
Gradually, as if already regretting she was doing it, Annabel removed her hands from my hair. I felt her wriggle a little against me and then she was eye-level with me; perched up on the high countertop with her bare feet dangling on my sides and the crinkled material of her gauze skirt flowing shapely over her thighs. I remembered giving her that skirt. It had been the main reason for a discussion between my mom and sister in that same kitchen; one trying to convince the other of whether Annabel - a former model, with tons of label clothes - would like a natural fabric skirt, from Dreamweavers, as a gift. In the end it had been me who decided, saying she would look good in it. Which she obviously did. And I thought she liked the skirt too, I’d seen her wearing it a few times since the weather warmed up.
I looked down at Annabel, she really did look great; her turquoise top made her eyes even bluer and the bow on the frilly neckline was so girly it was adorable. Her lips were swollen, her hair a little mussed up and there was some pink on her cheeks, even with the tan she had from the summer sun. I had done that to her, I realized as I watched her trying to catch her breath. It made me a bit proud of myself. It made me want to make her even more out of breath.
“You’re so beautiful, Annabel.” I told her, cupping her delicate face in my too-big-hands and then I kissed her some more.
Kissing Annabel isn’t like kissing any of the girls I’ve hooked up with before. She always tastes sweet and the kissing isn’t just something to get through to get somewhere else ahead; I really enjoy it and I was content with doing just that for a long time. However, we needed to come up for air at some point, so I took that opportunity to trail kisses over her jaw line and down her neck, as my fingers went into her silken blond hair. She gasped when she felt my tongue on her pulse point - it isn’t only her mouth that tastes so sweet - and sighed while I gave her an open-mouthed kiss there, then she whispered - practically moaned - my name as I nipped at her skin gently. That was new; the neck action and her reactions, too. I liked it. Both things. A lot. She was driving me crazy, actually, especially adding the fact that she was doing yet another new thing: her soft hands were roaming over my back gently, skimming the skin through my T-shirt and kneading the knots I had from delivering pizzas earlier that day.
That’s when she pulled away a little. Her eyes wide and full of trust, they stared steadily into mine for a while, intensely so. I love how she can do that now - even if it disconcerts me at times; like that first time, in front of the courthouse, when I acted like a bumbling idiot - after so much avoidance. Avoidance of confrontation, of eye contact, of opening up, of letting people in, of herself, of the truth, of life, and so on and on… But the way she does it now - the way she looks, stares, with those beautiful, sparkling blue eyes of hers - it is great. She expresses so much through it. And it felt to me like she could read my soul like an open book in return as she did it then, too.
And so I let her. How could I not? I mean, I’m the honest guy who doesn’t lie, right?
Yeah, right!
Because omission isn’t the same as lying, is it? But wasn’t I the one who once told Annabel that just not saying something out loud is still participating in a deception? That there’s no difference between lying and not telling? That not saying exactly what you think is still a lie? Even to spare people? Even if you mean well? And the ironic - if not the evil - thing about it all was that I was neither sparing her, nor meaning well in doing so. I was just being a plain coward not telling her what should. Yes, I could knock cold a bully like Ronnie in front of his watching pack of friends and then get into a fight in a club and subsequently get arrested, but it seemed I just couldn’t bring myself to say this one thing to her and actually be the honest guy I’d thought myself to be.
So I let her stare at me and hoped she might read my soul like an open book. Maybe she could see it there. The thing I was unable to say out loud.
But what she did, instead, was lean up to me and, as her soft lips touched mine, mumble, “Thank you”.
I must admit, the disappointment that gripped me felt like two big iron hands pressing in on my chest. I really had wanted it to be that easy, though I never really thought it would actually be that easy for me. So I kissed her back and tried to convey all the things I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud in that kiss, in holding her body carefully, yet tightly, close to mine, in caressing her cheek, in running my fingers over her back, then tangling them into her hair so I could bring her even closer and kiss her more and more and show her. And she was right there with me - on me - kissing me back just as passionately, with just as much fervor, and it was maddening, but in an extremely good way. Her delicate hands were on my chest, my arms, my shoulders, my back, my hair; her soft, pink lips and her sweet tongue, inquisitive and demanding inside my mouth. It was great! It was Heaven!
And it also had to stop. Soon.
I am a guy, after all. A red-blooded, hormone-crazed, teenage male and there’s only so much I can handle of having a hot girl - not just any girl, mind you, but my incredible girlfriend, Annabel, the former model - virtually on my lap, kissing me like there’s no tomorrow.
I am, too, after all, not just an honest guy - my cowardice overlooked for the moment - but also a gentleman, it seemed. Or, in the least, I was trying to be. Take for instance how, since me and aforementioned girlfriend had gotten together, I had been trying my best to keep things between us under control on the intimacy front and respectful when it comes to boundaries, especially considering the traumatic events she went through just the previous summer. This, however, was proving to be quite difficult at that moment; even more so with our recently acquired freedom and my newfound desire of showing her what I didn’t say.
So it was very reluctantly, I admit, that I pulled away and disentangled myself a bit from her, after I caught myself fiddling with the hem of her top with every intention of caressing the skin underneath it.
“Sorry, I-” I had no idea of what to say and my voice sounded strained from the effort of separating myself from her. “Maybe we should watch those movies, then.” I know: lame!
“Oh.” Annabel’s face showed confusion and - I think - a bit of disappointment, too. “You don’t have to do that, you know?” She asked ever so softly.
“Watch movies?” I was a bit lost. Still dizzy from the kiss, admittedly.
“You don’t have to move away from me. You can touch me, you know, Owen?” Annabel was frowning, her head bowed, looking at her hands, now lying limp on her lap, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m not going to break if you do.”
Oh. Now I really had no idea of what to say and my voice bailed on me.
“I- I mean, unless you- unless you don’t want to. It’s okay if you-” It was the wavering in her voice and her unsure tone that brought me back to my senses.
“No, Annabel, it’s not that. I want to. Trust me, I do.”
“It’s just that I don’t understand.” She went on, as if I hadn’t said anything. She was looking at me, but the frown was still marring her pretty face. “I thought, at first, that you just wanted to give me space; what with everything that happened, that you were taking things slow with me. Then I thought it was because we had no privacy, or time. Though, really, we had, if only a bit. But now… I don’t understand.” She sighed and it sounded a lot like defeat, I hated the sound of it. “We have time, we’re completely alone and we’ve been together for seven months, but you still pulled away. Is it-?”
Annabel seemed to have an inner debate on whether she, in fact, wanted to finish the question or not. I realized it was most likely because she knew I would answer it truthfully and it baffled me that she thought I may say something so awful she might not even want to know my answer.
“What is it, Bel?” I prodded a little, using the warmest and most reassuring tone I could muster. “Please, tell me.” I pleaded with her, coaxing her hands into my own.
“It’s just that, ever since I told you about what happened with Will, things have been different.” She told me, her eyes wide, staring into mine, and her hands squeezing my own, as if gathering the strength to say the things she wanted to. “You’ve never kissed me the way you did in the car wash until just now, except you still pulled away. It’s as if you’re holding back. As if you don’t want to really touch me now that you know the things he did to me.” She glanced down at our hands, then took a deep breath and asked me, “Is it? Is it because of that, Owen?”
I was absolutely perplexed that she would come up with such an idea and also extremely mad. Not at her, though. At Will. That after everything the jerk had put her through, there were still more ways in which she could be hurt by them. Luckily, it was in my power to make sure this wasn’t one of those cases.
“No, Annabel, it’s not.” I told her, looking into her eyes and could see her beginning to breathe again. “Not that way, anyways.” I added.
“What do you mean?” She asked, watchful once more.
“What you thought at first was right: I’m just trying to take things slow with you. I want to give you space. It’s not that I don’t want to touch you.” I explained, putting her hair behind her ear and brushing my thumb over her rosy cheek. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression all this time.”
“Actually, that stupid idea just occurred to me.” She bit her lip sheepishly. “Up until five minutes ago I was still working under the impression that it was the lack of privacy.” Annabel clarified.
“Oh.” I nodded, gazing at her, then it hit me. “Oh. You mean-? I mean-” I motioned around us at the empty kitchen, meaning to illustrate all of the privacy we now had. She simply nodded, her cheeks turning red. “Oh!”
“I mean, I do appreciate your thoughtfulness, Owen, giving me space and all. But I don’t need that much space, you know?” I could see she was a bit embarrassed as she said this; it was very endearing.
“Are you sure? I just don’t want to rush things now and make it uncomfortable for you later on.” I explained, running my hands over her arms. It seemed that from the moment I realized I could touch her I couldn’t get enough of it.
“It’s alright, I got it all worked out. Well, talked out, is more like it.”
“You do?” I’m sure she could see the surprise on my face.
“Owen, I know this may seem a little sudden to you, but really it’s something I’ve been working toward for a while now. It has been talked with Dr. Hammond and Moira; they actually think it has taken too long, especially considering our age. We’re not going to rush things though, we’re just moving forward, which is natural in any relationship.” Annabel was nibbling on her lip, apprehensively awaiting an answer.
“Of course it is, Bel. I’m just worried that our situation is a bit different. After all you’ve been through, I don’t want to push yo-”
“After all I’ve been through, I shouldn’t have to go without anything else because of it.” She cut me off, quite reasonably. “I trust you; you wouldn’t be pushing me, Owen. I- I want to be close to my boyfriend; that’s only normal. And I want normal back. Isn’t that what I’ve been working toward with therapy and all? This is just part of it, part of my healing process. Now, you’re the only one who can help me with this next step; the only one I trust to. That and I quite enjoy having you close by.” With that, she demonstrated her point by pulling me closer to her by tugging on my T-shirt, a coy smile on her lips.
How much more amazing can she get? I wondered. She really did have it all worked out. So who was I to say ‘no’ and stand in the way of her progress? Not that I wanted to, anyway.
“That’s good to know.” I whispered. And then I kissed her again. Only, this time, I didn’t hold back.
* * *
Pretty soon we found our way back to the point where we were before I interrupted our little encounter on the counter. Only this time I didn’t stop myself when my hands wandered to the hem of her top and I did caress the warm, smooth skin underneath it. Annabel probably took that as encouragement and dared herself to plunge her soft hands under my T-shirt, tracing her fingertips over the small of my back and up my spine, to then continue kneading the knots on my muscles. As a result, I felt like I was melting in her hands - not very manly, I recognize - as if I were play dough and she could change me into whatever shape she wanted me to be and I would willingly comply.
This felt so good; to finally have her hands on me and mine on her. I had no idea how much I had wanted this - needed it - before I had it; how much I had been holding myself back until she allowed me not to.
Time went on unchecked for us. Again and again my lips met the soft spot on her neck and we let our tongues dance in each others’ mouths as her fingers danced over my skin and - my mind only realized this by her hushed intake of breath and the way her body unexpectedly tensed - mine on hers. Apparently my hands had a schedule of their own and had already made the acquaintance of her lower back and stomach and were now aiming higher up her waist, toward the line of her bra.
This is what I would usually have done when I felt the need to keep things between us under control and respect the boundaries: pull away from her; probably apologize; mention there was some thing/where else we should be doing/going, which in most cases was true. This is what I did instead, since we were supposed to be moving forward and all: I left my hands where they were, though they didn’t inch further up, my fingertips tracing what I hoped were soothing circles on the skin of her ribcage; I searched her eyes, trying to gauge her reaction; with complete honesty, I told her, “We can stop now, if you want, Bel. Anytime you want, just say the word and we’ll stop.”
Annabel closed her eyes, took a deep, steadying breath, then looked at my face with those bright blue eyes of hers. And she smiled. Such a pure, trusting little smile, it made me feel full to the brim.
“I know.” She whispered. Her hand came to cup my jaw and she nodded. “I know. I trust you, Owen.” Her big eyes, staring back at me, were so sincere I couldn’t have doubted her, even if I had wanted to. “I don’t want you to stop… Don’t hold back.” And she pulled my face down to hers and kissed me.
I mean, she thoroughly kissed me. It was the first time I had Annabel kissing me that way and I enjoyed every last second of it. It wasn’t hurried or desperate. It was slow, almost painfully so. However, it was all the more sexy because of it; the leisure way her tongue played with mine, the measured way she dragged her nails over my scalp and the nape of my neck, the deliberate way she ran her teeth over my lower lip and bit lightly. I could feel my body beginning to respond to the attention. Who knew Annabel could be such a tease? Who knew torture could feel so good? She unhurriedly pressed herself to me, at the same time she draw me by my shoulders to her, making all of her delicious curves outline my body perfectly. It was all the encouragement I needed to go on - to ‘move forward’, as she put it.
My hands advanced up, my fingers spread and shaped over her satiny bra, cupping her through it. Her back arched a little and her shallow breaths pushed her pebbled nipples even deeper into my palm. She fit flawlessly: just the right size for me, her flesh was supple and smooth above the edge of the fabric. She gasped slightly into my mouth as I gave a gentle squeeze and the next thing she did was so startling and enticing she had me gasping and moaning into hers. She wrapped her legs around me. Not only that, but she also locked them at the ankles, pulling me into her, and arched her back a bit further - our hips bumping agonizingly, yet wonderfully so.
There was no way Annabel didn’t know the sort of effect this - namely her - was having on me by that point. The evidence was - quite conspicuously - pressed between us. I didn’t want her to think it meant anything more than what it did, though - meaning: I really enjoyed what we were doing. It certainly didn’t mean anything was required of her and the last thing I wanted was to scare her off. So, once again, I found myself divided between options; I could either address the issue - and maybe embarrass myself making a big deal about something that wasn’t - or I could go on as if nothing was the matter - except that maybe it was for her.
I guessed embarrassment never killed anyone, right?
I kissed her a little bit more - slowly, trying to catch my breath; I just couldn’t help it, really - as my hands slid from her breasts to her waist and ended up resting atop her covered thighs. When I figured I could talk, I rested my forehead against hers and started.
“Annabel, it doesn-”
“Let’s go to the couch.” She interrupted me, still a bit breathless, securing her arms around my neck in the same manner as her legs were around my hips.
O-kay… So I figured that could possibly mean she wanted to put some distance between the two of us and, perhaps, watch those horror flicks after all… Although, the way she was clinging close - with all four limbs, I might add - didn’t exactly send that message. It seemed more like she wanted to take what we were doing to the couch and continue it over there.
“Yo- Do you want to watch the movies?” I asked stupidly, hating the way my voice hitched and wavered as if I hadn’t already gone through puberty.
Annabel looked up at me and blinked slowly; two pink petals bloomed on her cheeks as she shook her head once, biting on her bottom lip. She looked somewhat dazed; I admit I felt precisely the same way.
“Okay.” I said and kissed her. “Okay.” This time I kissed her longer and let my hands caress the sides of her thighs so that when she raised herself slightly off the counter all I had to do was lift her the rest of the way up with me.
* * *
( to be continued...)