latino_menace | OOM: Still Christmas Day

She drifts up through the layers of sleep, drawn by the smell of tobacco and coffee. She opens an eye and gives him that secret little smile.

"Hey."

'Hey.'

He smiles down at her and picks up the other mug of coffee.

'You want?'

She hums, shakes her head a little, slowly uncurling from the sheets and stretching her hands over her head.

"Water?"

'Yeah, OK.'

Maybe he worked her too hard. Who would choose water over coffee? Still, he goes back to the kitchen to get some.

'Are you alright?'

Someone who's actually thirsty, that's who.

She sits up to take the glass from him, draining the glass in one long drink.

"Mmmyeah," she answers, smiling as she hands him the glass to set on the bedside table. "You?"

'After this morning? Of course.'

Perfect, now that he's showered. He leans over to kiss her lightly, smiling all the time.

'You were incredible.'

She leans into that kiss, one hand rising to brush his damp curls back from his forehead.

"You," she breathes against his lips. Her eyes close and she hums, smiling.

'Me?'

He should be used to her random statements by now, he thinks. Not that they're nasty to hear, or anything.

"You are amazing. And gorgeous." Her voice is quiet, intense. She tugs on the sleeve of his bathrobe, wanting him close again. "And mine."

'Oh, I know.'

He chuckles quietly and sheds the bathrobe, climbs back into bed.

He is not admitting to being hers. Only agreeing with the first part.

'I wasn't sure you'd be talking to me.'

Her hands draw him back down beside her, her brow furrowing a little.

('Mine', if only for the day, she thinks. If only for a moment. ...alters not with his brief hours and weeks...)

"Why would you think that?"

'Wellll...' he says, drawing it out as he drapes an arm around her and lights another smoke.

'Pushed my luck a bit, didn't I?'

He looks over at her, smirking.

'But you were spectacular.'

Really, really spectacular.

She nestles against his side and then promptly steals his smoke, pursing her lips as she blows out a perfect smoke ring.

"You took a chance on me," she grins, a little blush rising in her cheeks despite her air of nonchalance. "It paid off."

'Didn't it just.'

And then some.

'I hope that means you'll let me do it again.'

Communication is Key in relationships, he's heard. He figures it can't hurt to tell her what he wants.

Her smirk broadens, her cheeks get even redder, and she hands him the cigarette back. She rests her cheek on his chest, her palm smoothing along his ribs.

"Maybe." Hell yes. "If you want."

'Fuck yes, I want,' he says mildly, smoking once more.

There's no embarressment from him. Not even a little bit.

'I want it all. I just never thought you'd go for it.'

"Never thought it'd feel like that," she admits in a small voice.

I want it all. Don't ask me that. Don't ask. Mess you right up.

"Just -- go slow. Okay?"

'Of course, caro.'

He runs his fingers through her hair, smokes, the picture of relaxed contentment.

'But not right now, obviously. You wont enjoy it if we tried it now. Soon, though.'

She presses her head into his touch, purring, a small smile returning. "No, I think -- I may have to wait till later. To go again."

Did he actually wear her out? Is that even possible?

There's silence.

And then he laughs. Quiet and first, then louder.

'Finally!'

He couldn't be more pleased with himself.

She smirks at him, a bit uncertain as to what's so funny, but happy to see him happy.

"Oh you think I'm done with you, is that it? You think I've had enough?"

'Well, you look pretty tired.'

He wore her out. Score!

She punches him playfully in the ribs, before grabbing a handful of hair and pulling him down for a slow, deep kiss. The kind you can get lost in for days.

She's never been one to back down from a challenge, never been one to walk away from a fight.

He sinks into it happily, taking her mouth with care but not trying to push her for anything. He never says no to sex but he had a good workout this morning and if she wants to leave it until later, he's fine with that.

'You don't have to. We could go and try out that bath before dinner, if you like.'

Although the chances of that not turning into sex are pretty low, now he comes to think of it.

"God yes. That sounds like heaven."

She brushes his hair back from his eyes again, taking a good long look at him, like she's seeing him for the first time.

"I could use a good long soak."

'I bet.'

He smirks, amused (he can remember how she tasted, what it felt like, how she looked in his mind's eye) and crawls back out of bed.

'I'll get it running. You stay there. Or find food, whichever you prefer.'

He's peckish but not desperately so.

She hums a little as he slips from her hands. And lays there, eyes closed for a few moments.

Damn it, food sounds good. She slips out of the bed, dragging the sheet with her to cover her shoulders. Even with a fire in the fireplace, it's a bit chilly in here. Probably the snow still falling outside the windows. She pads off towards the kitchen, and takes a few minutes to make them a plate of bread and meat, a little fruit and cheese. She finds another bottle of wine and uncorks it, but doesn't even bother finding glasses. Idly, she turns on the sound system and finds a CD of Christmas songs (jazz covers, just enough holiday music without being overbearingly sweet.)

Eventually, she takes the plate and the bottle and makes her way into the bathroom, munching on a handful of grapes as she sets their lunch down.

The bath is huge and overflowing with bubbles. Ramon didn't know how much bubble bath you're supposed to use, he's never really thought about it before. So, he threw in most of the bottle and is now eyeing the steaming pool and soaking floor with some trepidation.

Ah well. It'll do the job and that's what cleaning services are for, right?

'Come on.'

He tugs her free hand and climbs in, sinking up to the chin in water almost too hot to bear.

She drops the grapes, giggling and laughing as she lets him steer her down into the soapy mess and the delicious heat.

A long groan slips from her lips as she melts against him.

"My hero."

He smirks and puts one arm around her, the other raches for something to eat.

'Do you hurt?'

Best to check. If she's going to be out of action later, he wants to know about it.

It takes a moment for his words to penetrate the bliss of the hot water sinking into her sore muscles.

"Nothing a long hot soak won't fix," she murmurs, rolling her neck from side to side.

'We've got time.'

Mmmm, food. Delicious.

'You've really never done that before?'

He's surprised, to say the least.

"Never had anyone offer," she confesses, her tone idle and content. "I mean, the other?"

She pauses for a moment, and he can see a memory play across her face. An unpleasant memory, distant but still there.

"Never -- enjoyed it. But." She looks up into his eyes. "That? Makes me want to try again."

He smiles, glad to hear it, and runs a finger down her cheek.

'What happened?'

Her gaze falls, but there's a smile on her lips.

"He didn't --" She shakes her head, reaching for the bottle of wine to take a drink before trying again. "He didn't ask, didn't listen, didn't -- stop."

The smile fades and is replaced by a frown instead.

'You were raped?'

She rolls her eyes, takes another drink. "Doesn't matter. It was a long time ago." She looks at his face, searching his eyes even as she tries to smile. "Another lifetime."

'Doesn't matter?'

As someone who has raped dozens of women, he knows it rarely...no, never...means nothing.

Also? It's set in stone in his mind that she needs to never find out about that particular part of his history.

'Who was it?'

She fixes him with a stare, shifting to set the wine bottle down behind his shoulder, running her hands over his chest under the water as she settles back.

"Someone high up in the organisation. Someone I was dating."

She knows full well what he's capable of, knew from the beginning just what she was getting herself into. She's never had any illusions.

She cocks one eyebrow at him. "He's dead," she drawls. "I lied about how much time he had to plant the charge and get out. Oops."

He opens his mouth...and then closes it again.

Saying 'oh, you were dating' would be, he realises, pretty stupid. Just because he thinks that rape doesn't exist within a relationship, doesn't mean she does.

'I'm glad to hear it. And not at all surprised.'

Again she slits her eyes at him, her lips thinning. "I can take care of myself."

He frowns lightly, confused by her expression.

'I know you can.

What's wrong?'

"I told you, it was another lifetime. I was young and stupid. And he -- he thought he could do anything to me. I didn't know what was happening until it was too late."

The edge in her voice tapers off, and she sighs, reaching up a hand to touch his cheek.

"And it's not like that between us. Which makes it okay. To experiment."

He takes that hand and kisses her palm, wondering whether he has thought that he could do anything to her. And the answer is yes, but because he knows how to ask and doesn't force it. Which is better, in a situation like this.

A small voice in the back of his mind pipes up that sometimes he misses the other ways of doing things but he banishes it immediately, the way he did that first night here. This isn't the time or place.

'I'll always stop if you ask me to. You know that. And I'll always ask for what I want - if you want to say no, say no.'

It doesn't hurt to lay it out there, evn if she knows already.

Her expression softens as he speaks, her head falling to one side and and her pupils grow wide and dark.

She leans in, drawn to him. "You take good care of me," she murmurs against the corner of his mouth. "Thank you."

She turns her head, brushing her lips over his, her eyes drifting closed.

Edited 2010-02-13 21:09 (UTC)

'And so do you, with me.'

He doesn't need care, he thinks to himself, but it's not unpleasant to have it in his life, as long as it doesn't get stifling.

He keeps the kiss light and runs his hands up her back, just enjoying the peace.

If it's stifling, it isn't care anymore. She knows that. (Michael taught her well.)

Her hands steal around his neck, fingertips teasing into his hair at the nape of his neck. The hot water, the feel of his hands moving on her skin, the taste of his mouth, all of it.

Best Christmas in ages.

OOM: Still Christmas Day

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