lalalive23 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lalalive23) wrote2010-09-29 01:37 pm
lalalive23) wrote2010-09-29 01:37 pm
Entry tags:
Written in the Walls: 2a/??
Title: Written in the Walls
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lalalive23
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Bell/Dom and a few original characters.
Summary: Matt and Dom are teachers at a local high school in 1954. They don't want their relationship to be discovered, especially by those they work with, even though they've been living together for nearly 4 years. This is the story of what happens when the school librarian discovers them.
Warning: Fluff, minor sexual content, implied sex
Feedback: Is nice! I like it loads! Just don't make fun of me, plz <3
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse. I don't make money off this. This never happened. I do, however, own the characters Ellen and Martin. They are mine, so please do not take them. I am willing to share if you want to collaborate on something, but otherwise no touchy plz!
Note: I am very much aware that the likelihood of two British people having a record of Elmore James in their house in the 1950's is HIGHLY unlikely. However, I am begging you to allow me some creative license. When I was writing this, I was listening to his music and it just fit perfectly in my brain. Anyone who knows me knows I adore the blues, and they also know that I cannot write unless I have an appropriate soundtrack. So please don't flame me for using the song. If you are at all interested in listening to it you can find it here
Endless thanks todolce_piccante and sunshine_173 for being fabulous bit readers, cheerleaders, putting up with my insecurities, and being incredible friends. This story would not exist if it weren't for you ladies <3
Prologue Chapter 1
Matthew
J'éspere que tu ailles bien. Mes parents et moi, nous sommes en bonne santé. J'ai reçu ta lettre hier et je suis vraiment contente que tu puisse venir me voir pendant les vacances. Je préfère que tu vienne au mois de juillet. Mes parents demandent que tes parents t'accompagner. Je recommende que tu prenne les billet d'avion aussitôt que possible. je suggere aussi que vous mettiez quelques pulls dans les valises. À Quebec, il fait souvent frais le soir, meme en ét´. Je voudrais que nous allions tous aux Laurentides et que nous visitions ensemble la vielle ville. Mes parents et moi, nous desirons passer un mois merveilleux au Canada.
A disappointed sigh escaped my throat as I read through the near perfect passage. Easing the students into the present subjunctive tense was never an easy task, but my favourite, Anita Davis, had made the transition smoothly. Which is why it hurt me so profusely to see that I had to take points off her paper for one careless mistake. One incorrectly translated verb, ailles, the silly word costing her three points. Had she looked over it once more, she would have seen that she should, in fact, have used vas. And so, with pursed lips, I dragged my red pen through the word, feeling as though I was beating myself up about it as much as she would.
In my heart of hearts, I knew it was wrong to have favourite students. But, it was extraordinarily difficult not to, especially when one stood out as brightly as she. Her work was always near flawless, if not utter perfection. She handled the French accent with the delicacy one would expect from a native speaker, and the manner in which she held herself, inside and outside class, was one I believed more students needed to practice. There was, of course, no doubt in my mind that she would pass her French A-Level without issue.
My leg shook impatiently as I waited for the free period to end, the time when classes were over and children could either return home or receive extra help from their tutors. I was rarely in my office at this time, instead I would be in the library with Dominic. Unfortunately, Dominic had a meeting with the other natural science tutors, and I was left to my own devices. My students rarely came for help, unless there was a test scheduled for some time in the coming week. Perhaps it was for the best, as my glances to Dominic would not be detected with such enthusiastic eyes.
As I flicked through the other papers I had yet to read, I could easily pick out the improper grammar and tense uses. Inwardly I kicked myself for not saving Anita's for last.
Eventually my restlessness got the better of me. I packed the papers into my bag, the one that Dominic had bought me for my birthday a year before after I had expressed how much I liked his. The generous gift always brought a smile to my face.
My mind was engrossed in nothingness as I exited the building, walking east toward our home when I noticed Dominic passing me to my right. My heart clenched and my body begged to be walking with him, my feet itching to turn around and fall into synch with his. I denied myself all of these things and simply nodded as I passed him, my hands fisting tensely in my coat pockets. He smiled back, his eyes instantly soothing me as they reassured me that the wait would not be much longer.
The journey home from Sevenoaks Sixth Form Academy was always the best and worst part of my day. I would long for, endlessly, the moments with Dominic in a car, touching hands and recounting our day. And to leave without him, some days knowing he would get home before me, others having to wait so impatiently to hear his key in the door, only served to prolong my torture. Yet, at the same time, I imagined it made our first contact that much sweeter, our bodies being held in desperation for one another for so long that the great relief we felt was interpreted as extreme desire.
My thoughts would wander, a concentrated attempt at keeping my eagerness to see my lover at bay, when I would walk the mile to our home. Lately, I found my thoughts turning to the pretty librarian I had noticed watching me intently. Rather, watching us. Her gaze was never incriminating, accusatory, or antagonizing nor was it filled with great wisdom or enlightenment of our meaning. Instead, she would look on with unbiased curiosity, as if we were a thing of fascination or entertainment in her otherwise prosaic routine. It was because of this I felt no fear that she had noticed us in our attempts to subside our mutual hunger.
It had been three years since I had received my position as the French teacher for the children in years 10 through 13, only for Dominic to become the Biology teacher for the same group just six months later. Those first months were exceptionally difficult, passing each other in the faculty lounge and exchanging only pleasantries as we passed, pretending our relationship barely transgressed acquaintance. There would be no reason for us to be any closer than that, our departments so very different.
We came to the decision to meet at the library during free period after three months of what I would define as exquisite agony. The shelter of the brown room became our secret church and it was there we would hold our private tutoring. Sneaking glances at one another, we were completely safe. At the time, the librarian was a gentle old woman of about 70, her eyesight gone and her hearing just as poor. The affairs of teachers captivated only the most ostentatious of teenage girls, and sometimes boys, and it was rare for them to be seen in a library doing extra coursework. We had been firm in the belief that the knowledge of our teasing, occasionally searing, looks was secure within the threshold of the room.
For years, we continued that way and, for years, we had been utterly carefree about our approach during the free period. But at the start of term, we had been shocked to discover that old Mrs. Lucas had retired, and the young Mrs. Winters had been chosen as her replacement. Weary of her person, we spent the first few weeks going to the library to study her mannerisms. Dominic quickly came to the decision that we had nothing to worry about, that even if she did recognize something it would hardly be difficult to convince her otherwise.
I believed him, of course, because there was no reason not to. Our glances to the unassuming eye would appear to be nothing spectacular, and we would come across as bored tutors who could not come up with another way to explain a topic to a student. But as time passed, and our attention to her become somewhat lax, I felt she had started to notice us instead. While I should have felt concerned at this fact, no where in me did I find the ability to be so. She was a kind woman, that I could tell, genuinely concerned about the affairs of the students and the state of the books she handled. Deep down, for some unknown reason, I felt that if it came to it, I could trust her.
My steps quickened as I passed the threshold of our gate, walking the short distance to our door with an eager jump in my footing. I knew Dominic was home already, having taken the bus. Tomorrow, it would be my day for the public transportation. Not that we couldn't be seen leaving the house together, our neighbors were well aware that we lived together, though under the pretense that we were mates from uni. Simply, we knew the limits of our self control, and fingers would find their way into laps, and twine themselves into the fabric of the other's jacket, ultimately ruining everything we had worked so hard to preserve.
Upon entering the house, I was struck by the sounds of Elmore James. My cousin who lived in America had sent us his record, our passion for the blues something Dean was all too eager to indulge. The smell of detergent saturated the house. Dominic had a fixation with doing and putting out the wash, his favorite household chore. Vaguely, I was reminded that he had washed his white shirts this morning before school. I dropped my bag to the floor and toed off my shoes. Movement distantly to my left caught my eye, and I paused with my jacket off one shoulder.
When one stood in the foyer of our house, they were facing the kitchen whose bay window was both wide and tall, and had an extensive view of the backyard. From this vantage point, I could see Dominic hanging his laundry, his white shirts scattered over the line. Already changed out of his work clothes, his black denim jeans clung lovingly to his waist, the colour fading ever so lightly on the curve of his arse. He wore no tee-shirt, all of his clothes hanging wet before him. I was thankful for the October heat-wave, the sun allowing me to marvel once more at his golden expanse of skin. Enjoying the sight of his muscles flexing with work, I took to this voyeurism with joy, and I drank in all that was before me, like he was my own personal Marlon Brando.
By no means at all did I mask the hungry growl that escaped my throat.
As if on cue, he noticed me through the window, a loving smirk painting itself across his face as he dropped his shirt to the pile and sauntered towards the door. Chest heaving expectantly, I finished taking off my coat and placed it on the coat rack.
He fixed a smile on me as he passed from the back door through the kitchen that made my breath hitch. "You finally made it home, I see."
I laughed. "Yes, well, not all of us had the luxury of public transport today."
"I missed you," he said as advanced on me, hands in his pockets as he stepped into the foyer. He glanced to the living room as the song changed to "Held My Baby Last Night," our personal favourite. Looking back at me, now only five feet away, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Air huffed out of my nose as I leaned against the door, catching his meaning almost instantly. "I've barely made it through the door, you lewd thing."
As affronted as I tried to sound, it was impossible to stop the grin creeping across my face. Strong arms wound themselves around the small of my back, our foreheads coming together to share soft exhaled breaths.
"It's your fault. You were positively smoldering today." His whisper danced across my skin causing my hands to instinctively glide up his back and mold themselves to his smooth shoulder blades, kneading the skin with my fingertips before they slid to his neck.
I chuckled breathily at his words. "You only feel that way because we skipped the library."
Hot moisture hit my lips as Dominic's tongue slid across them, not seeking entrance but merely tracing their shape. "I always feel that way."
Tugging my bottom lip between his teeth, our mouths came together as Dominic's hips rolled gently into mine. Fisting my fingers in his hair, I let a desperate mewl escape my throat. My body ached to be filled by him, to feel the rest of his body without skin, to have my own clothes stripped off by his hands. I had to pull away before we got too carried away.
"Dominic, we have to make dinner," I tried weakly, but I was taken by the length of his eyelashes, and I studied them as he spoke with his eyes closed.
"You are far more delicious." He sucked gently on my jawline, directly under my ear. My knees began to shake with the effort of standing.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to spoil your dinner with dessert first?" It was the last coherent sentence I could manage, his tongue deftly slipping into my mouth. The muscle pumped in and out of my lips, mimicking the action of his hips into mine. If we didn't stop soon, I knew we wouldn't have anything to eat and I would be forced to listen to Dominic's rumbling stomach for the rest of the evening.
Gently pushing his shoulders, I separated myself from him and walked around him, tossing a sly grin over my shoulder. He pouted like a petulant child, the action extremely endearing and adorable. "Patience, darling," I called back to him as I made my way into the kitchen.
Opening the refrigerator, I was hopeful we had all the ingredients I needed to make what I wanted. For ages I had been craving chicken piccata, my favourite Italian meal. As Dominic had been acting head chef for the past few days, his culinary skills were not as advanced to make it properly, thus egging on my desire.
Arms looped around my waist from behind, and I felt Dominic nuzzle his head against my neck. I could feel him smiling contentedly. "Shouldn't you put on a shirt on?" I suggested with a chuckle.
His reply was muffled, but happy in tone as he placed a quick kiss to my hairline. "Can't. I washed them."
I cocked an eyebrow he couldn't see. "Surely you didn't wash all of them," I supplied.
He was silent and it told me everything I needed to know. His overeagerness with laundry usually caused him to wash everything at once, loving the smell of clean clothes when he first put them on and leaving him with nothing until it was finished.
I shooed him away lovingly, bending over to get the chicken, and we quickly settled into our usual routine. Silence, more often not, would befall us as we worked, Dominic leaving every now and again to change records so we were never without background music. I loved the sound of him humming along, though frighteningly off key, to Billie Holiday, a green apron tied around his naked chest. The agility with which he could work a knife as he cut vegetables always astounded me.
When the meal was fully prepared, I poured us wine, and we took our places at the table. Most couples, I was aware, sat across from each other. But the distance never did us well and, from the very beginning, we had decided to sit next to one another at the square table, our bare feet always touching.
"I met the librarian today," Dominic said abruptly as he took his first bite of chicken.
The statement caught me off guard, my eyes bugging wide and my mouth falling open a little. Feeling the reaction spread across my face, I imagine I looked somewhat like a bug. Dominic, however, just leaned over and gently kissed my nose.
"And?" I urged him. It didn't surprise me by any means that he was not worried, that he had said this as if we were talking about the weather. He found Mrs. Winters to be the most unassuming woman possible. Now that he had spoken to her, I needed to know if he was right.
"I bumped into her as I was leaving. She was heading to the bus stop, though the opposite direction so I couldn't wait with her. Honestly, she is the sweetest thing. I don't think many people talk to her, so she must get lonely during the day."
He took a long sip of his wine and continued to cut his chicken. I had not said a word, and was processing the information he had given me. I found it to be quite vague, so I willed him through my silence to continue.
Glancing over at me again, he found me staring intently, waiting for the details of their conversation. He caught my meaning with a laugh and supplied me with the information I required.
"When I say I bumped into her, I mean I literally bumped into her. She was carrying a copy of Brave New World, which fell and I picked up for her."
I had to interrupt him. "Isn't that book banned?" I was shocked. She seemed so...conservative, and I could not imagine her to be interested in such literature.
"No, I asked her the same thing but she told me that was only in Ireland. But she seemed so embarrassed about it when I asked," he continued. "She told me about where the title came from, and how Emile Zola discusses a 'brave new world.' It was absolutely fascinating. But what was more interesting was the joy that she clearly felt while taking about it. I never knew she had that much energy about her and I just, I couldn't help but think of you the whole time." A slight blush crept its way across his cheeks as he said this, and I smiled, pausing in my chewing. It was a rare occasion when he blushed, my lover usually so confident. When the moment presented itself, as it was doing now, I always took the moment to bask in the image. He looked positively beautiful.
"In what way?" I asked after I swallowed.
His grey-blue eyes raised to meet mine, and the sincerity I found there nearly took my breath away. "When we first met, you were terminally shy. I thought you were afraid of me. But once we got into conversation, you just got so excited and looked so positively captivating. You still do that. She just reminded me of our first date."
He looked away then, smiling shyly and slowly picking his fork into his carrots. The action made my heart swell. "So what else," I asked, filing away this moment into a cabinet in my brain.
"Well, she introduced herself. Her first name is Ellen, in case you were wondering. I mean, that's pretty much it. We didn't have a long, life changing chat, it was just a brief hello." He chewed happily on his vegetables, his lips smacking together causing me to laugh.
"She didn't say anything about..." I trailed off, waving my hand through the air. He shook his head.
"She didn't even say 'oh, I've seen you before.' Honestly, baby, there is nothing to worry about. Now can you stop spying on the librarian and focus your attention on me when we're there," he said jokingly.
"N'aw, is someone getting jealous?" I teased.
"You know I love having your attention on me at all times," he whispered leaning in for a kiss. I happily obliged him, smiling as I did so.
"Cheeky," I whispered as our lips separated.
Later that evening, I watched Dominic as he slept, his hair falling against the pillow with wild abandon. Cradled against me, my arm beneath his head, the evenness with which his chest rose and fell soothed my worried mind. Perhaps my gut instinct about Ellen was right, perhaps Dominic was right: she was nothing to worry about at all. But I still wouldn't allow myself to be careless. Running my fingers up and down his left shoulder, a rush of affection and love filled my body.
I would never risk the incredible calmness our life had assumed. While it was horrible to pretend I didn't know the man who was pressed so tightly against me at that moment, the alternative was simply unbearable. Disrupting our peace would mean I would never be able to watch Dominic sleep this easily again.
No, I decided resolutely before I drifted to sleep, I would never allow myself to get careless.
Author:
lalalive23 Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Bell/Dom and a few original characters.
Summary: Matt and Dom are teachers at a local high school in 1954. They don't want their relationship to be discovered, especially by those they work with, even though they've been living together for nearly 4 years. This is the story of what happens when the school librarian discovers them.
Warning: Fluff, minor sexual content, implied sex
Feedback: Is nice! I like it loads! Just don't make fun of me, plz <3
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse. I don't make money off this. This never happened. I do, however, own the characters Ellen and Martin. They are mine, so please do not take them. I am willing to share if you want to collaborate on something, but otherwise no touchy plz!
Note: I am very much aware that the likelihood of two British people having a record of Elmore James in their house in the 1950's is HIGHLY unlikely. However, I am begging you to allow me some creative license. When I was writing this, I was listening to his music and it just fit perfectly in my brain. Anyone who knows me knows I adore the blues, and they also know that I cannot write unless I have an appropriate soundtrack. So please don't flame me for using the song. If you are at all interested in listening to it you can find it here
Endless thanks to
dolce_piccante and sunshine_173 for being fabulous bit readers, cheerleaders, putting up with my insecurities, and being incredible friends. This story would not exist if it weren't for you ladies <3Prologue Chapter 1
Matthew
J'éspere que tu ailles bien. Mes parents et moi, nous sommes en bonne santé. J'ai reçu ta lettre hier et je suis vraiment contente que tu puisse venir me voir pendant les vacances. Je préfère que tu vienne au mois de juillet. Mes parents demandent que tes parents t'accompagner. Je recommende que tu prenne les billet d'avion aussitôt que possible. je suggere aussi que vous mettiez quelques pulls dans les valises. À Quebec, il fait souvent frais le soir, meme en ét´. Je voudrais que nous allions tous aux Laurentides et que nous visitions ensemble la vielle ville. Mes parents et moi, nous desirons passer un mois merveilleux au Canada.
A disappointed sigh escaped my throat as I read through the near perfect passage. Easing the students into the present subjunctive tense was never an easy task, but my favourite, Anita Davis, had made the transition smoothly. Which is why it hurt me so profusely to see that I had to take points off her paper for one careless mistake. One incorrectly translated verb, ailles, the silly word costing her three points. Had she looked over it once more, she would have seen that she should, in fact, have used vas. And so, with pursed lips, I dragged my red pen through the word, feeling as though I was beating myself up about it as much as she would.
In my heart of hearts, I knew it was wrong to have favourite students. But, it was extraordinarily difficult not to, especially when one stood out as brightly as she. Her work was always near flawless, if not utter perfection. She handled the French accent with the delicacy one would expect from a native speaker, and the manner in which she held herself, inside and outside class, was one I believed more students needed to practice. There was, of course, no doubt in my mind that she would pass her French A-Level without issue.
My leg shook impatiently as I waited for the free period to end, the time when classes were over and children could either return home or receive extra help from their tutors. I was rarely in my office at this time, instead I would be in the library with Dominic. Unfortunately, Dominic had a meeting with the other natural science tutors, and I was left to my own devices. My students rarely came for help, unless there was a test scheduled for some time in the coming week. Perhaps it was for the best, as my glances to Dominic would not be detected with such enthusiastic eyes.
As I flicked through the other papers I had yet to read, I could easily pick out the improper grammar and tense uses. Inwardly I kicked myself for not saving Anita's for last.
Eventually my restlessness got the better of me. I packed the papers into my bag, the one that Dominic had bought me for my birthday a year before after I had expressed how much I liked his. The generous gift always brought a smile to my face.
My mind was engrossed in nothingness as I exited the building, walking east toward our home when I noticed Dominic passing me to my right. My heart clenched and my body begged to be walking with him, my feet itching to turn around and fall into synch with his. I denied myself all of these things and simply nodded as I passed him, my hands fisting tensely in my coat pockets. He smiled back, his eyes instantly soothing me as they reassured me that the wait would not be much longer.
The journey home from Sevenoaks Sixth Form Academy was always the best and worst part of my day. I would long for, endlessly, the moments with Dominic in a car, touching hands and recounting our day. And to leave without him, some days knowing he would get home before me, others having to wait so impatiently to hear his key in the door, only served to prolong my torture. Yet, at the same time, I imagined it made our first contact that much sweeter, our bodies being held in desperation for one another for so long that the great relief we felt was interpreted as extreme desire.
My thoughts would wander, a concentrated attempt at keeping my eagerness to see my lover at bay, when I would walk the mile to our home. Lately, I found my thoughts turning to the pretty librarian I had noticed watching me intently. Rather, watching us. Her gaze was never incriminating, accusatory, or antagonizing nor was it filled with great wisdom or enlightenment of our meaning. Instead, she would look on with unbiased curiosity, as if we were a thing of fascination or entertainment in her otherwise prosaic routine. It was because of this I felt no fear that she had noticed us in our attempts to subside our mutual hunger.
It had been three years since I had received my position as the French teacher for the children in years 10 through 13, only for Dominic to become the Biology teacher for the same group just six months later. Those first months were exceptionally difficult, passing each other in the faculty lounge and exchanging only pleasantries as we passed, pretending our relationship barely transgressed acquaintance. There would be no reason for us to be any closer than that, our departments so very different.
We came to the decision to meet at the library during free period after three months of what I would define as exquisite agony. The shelter of the brown room became our secret church and it was there we would hold our private tutoring. Sneaking glances at one another, we were completely safe. At the time, the librarian was a gentle old woman of about 70, her eyesight gone and her hearing just as poor. The affairs of teachers captivated only the most ostentatious of teenage girls, and sometimes boys, and it was rare for them to be seen in a library doing extra coursework. We had been firm in the belief that the knowledge of our teasing, occasionally searing, looks was secure within the threshold of the room.
For years, we continued that way and, for years, we had been utterly carefree about our approach during the free period. But at the start of term, we had been shocked to discover that old Mrs. Lucas had retired, and the young Mrs. Winters had been chosen as her replacement. Weary of her person, we spent the first few weeks going to the library to study her mannerisms. Dominic quickly came to the decision that we had nothing to worry about, that even if she did recognize something it would hardly be difficult to convince her otherwise.
I believed him, of course, because there was no reason not to. Our glances to the unassuming eye would appear to be nothing spectacular, and we would come across as bored tutors who could not come up with another way to explain a topic to a student. But as time passed, and our attention to her become somewhat lax, I felt she had started to notice us instead. While I should have felt concerned at this fact, no where in me did I find the ability to be so. She was a kind woman, that I could tell, genuinely concerned about the affairs of the students and the state of the books she handled. Deep down, for some unknown reason, I felt that if it came to it, I could trust her.
My steps quickened as I passed the threshold of our gate, walking the short distance to our door with an eager jump in my footing. I knew Dominic was home already, having taken the bus. Tomorrow, it would be my day for the public transportation. Not that we couldn't be seen leaving the house together, our neighbors were well aware that we lived together, though under the pretense that we were mates from uni. Simply, we knew the limits of our self control, and fingers would find their way into laps, and twine themselves into the fabric of the other's jacket, ultimately ruining everything we had worked so hard to preserve.
Upon entering the house, I was struck by the sounds of Elmore James. My cousin who lived in America had sent us his record, our passion for the blues something Dean was all too eager to indulge. The smell of detergent saturated the house. Dominic had a fixation with doing and putting out the wash, his favorite household chore. Vaguely, I was reminded that he had washed his white shirts this morning before school. I dropped my bag to the floor and toed off my shoes. Movement distantly to my left caught my eye, and I paused with my jacket off one shoulder.
When one stood in the foyer of our house, they were facing the kitchen whose bay window was both wide and tall, and had an extensive view of the backyard. From this vantage point, I could see Dominic hanging his laundry, his white shirts scattered over the line. Already changed out of his work clothes, his black denim jeans clung lovingly to his waist, the colour fading ever so lightly on the curve of his arse. He wore no tee-shirt, all of his clothes hanging wet before him. I was thankful for the October heat-wave, the sun allowing me to marvel once more at his golden expanse of skin. Enjoying the sight of his muscles flexing with work, I took to this voyeurism with joy, and I drank in all that was before me, like he was my own personal Marlon Brando.
By no means at all did I mask the hungry growl that escaped my throat.
As if on cue, he noticed me through the window, a loving smirk painting itself across his face as he dropped his shirt to the pile and sauntered towards the door. Chest heaving expectantly, I finished taking off my coat and placed it on the coat rack.
He fixed a smile on me as he passed from the back door through the kitchen that made my breath hitch. "You finally made it home, I see."
I laughed. "Yes, well, not all of us had the luxury of public transport today."
"I missed you," he said as advanced on me, hands in his pockets as he stepped into the foyer. He glanced to the living room as the song changed to "Held My Baby Last Night," our personal favourite. Looking back at me, now only five feet away, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Air huffed out of my nose as I leaned against the door, catching his meaning almost instantly. "I've barely made it through the door, you lewd thing."
As affronted as I tried to sound, it was impossible to stop the grin creeping across my face. Strong arms wound themselves around the small of my back, our foreheads coming together to share soft exhaled breaths.
"It's your fault. You were positively smoldering today." His whisper danced across my skin causing my hands to instinctively glide up his back and mold themselves to his smooth shoulder blades, kneading the skin with my fingertips before they slid to his neck.
I chuckled breathily at his words. "You only feel that way because we skipped the library."
Hot moisture hit my lips as Dominic's tongue slid across them, not seeking entrance but merely tracing their shape. "I always feel that way."
Tugging my bottom lip between his teeth, our mouths came together as Dominic's hips rolled gently into mine. Fisting my fingers in his hair, I let a desperate mewl escape my throat. My body ached to be filled by him, to feel the rest of his body without skin, to have my own clothes stripped off by his hands. I had to pull away before we got too carried away.
"Dominic, we have to make dinner," I tried weakly, but I was taken by the length of his eyelashes, and I studied them as he spoke with his eyes closed.
"You are far more delicious." He sucked gently on my jawline, directly under my ear. My knees began to shake with the effort of standing.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to spoil your dinner with dessert first?" It was the last coherent sentence I could manage, his tongue deftly slipping into my mouth. The muscle pumped in and out of my lips, mimicking the action of his hips into mine. If we didn't stop soon, I knew we wouldn't have anything to eat and I would be forced to listen to Dominic's rumbling stomach for the rest of the evening.
Gently pushing his shoulders, I separated myself from him and walked around him, tossing a sly grin over my shoulder. He pouted like a petulant child, the action extremely endearing and adorable. "Patience, darling," I called back to him as I made my way into the kitchen.
Opening the refrigerator, I was hopeful we had all the ingredients I needed to make what I wanted. For ages I had been craving chicken piccata, my favourite Italian meal. As Dominic had been acting head chef for the past few days, his culinary skills were not as advanced to make it properly, thus egging on my desire.
Arms looped around my waist from behind, and I felt Dominic nuzzle his head against my neck. I could feel him smiling contentedly. "Shouldn't you put on a shirt on?" I suggested with a chuckle.
His reply was muffled, but happy in tone as he placed a quick kiss to my hairline. "Can't. I washed them."
I cocked an eyebrow he couldn't see. "Surely you didn't wash all of them," I supplied.
He was silent and it told me everything I needed to know. His overeagerness with laundry usually caused him to wash everything at once, loving the smell of clean clothes when he first put them on and leaving him with nothing until it was finished.
I shooed him away lovingly, bending over to get the chicken, and we quickly settled into our usual routine. Silence, more often not, would befall us as we worked, Dominic leaving every now and again to change records so we were never without background music. I loved the sound of him humming along, though frighteningly off key, to Billie Holiday, a green apron tied around his naked chest. The agility with which he could work a knife as he cut vegetables always astounded me.
When the meal was fully prepared, I poured us wine, and we took our places at the table. Most couples, I was aware, sat across from each other. But the distance never did us well and, from the very beginning, we had decided to sit next to one another at the square table, our bare feet always touching.
"I met the librarian today," Dominic said abruptly as he took his first bite of chicken.
The statement caught me off guard, my eyes bugging wide and my mouth falling open a little. Feeling the reaction spread across my face, I imagine I looked somewhat like a bug. Dominic, however, just leaned over and gently kissed my nose.
"And?" I urged him. It didn't surprise me by any means that he was not worried, that he had said this as if we were talking about the weather. He found Mrs. Winters to be the most unassuming woman possible. Now that he had spoken to her, I needed to know if he was right.
"I bumped into her as I was leaving. She was heading to the bus stop, though the opposite direction so I couldn't wait with her. Honestly, she is the sweetest thing. I don't think many people talk to her, so she must get lonely during the day."
He took a long sip of his wine and continued to cut his chicken. I had not said a word, and was processing the information he had given me. I found it to be quite vague, so I willed him through my silence to continue.
Glancing over at me again, he found me staring intently, waiting for the details of their conversation. He caught my meaning with a laugh and supplied me with the information I required.
"When I say I bumped into her, I mean I literally bumped into her. She was carrying a copy of Brave New World, which fell and I picked up for her."
I had to interrupt him. "Isn't that book banned?" I was shocked. She seemed so...conservative, and I could not imagine her to be interested in such literature.
"No, I asked her the same thing but she told me that was only in Ireland. But she seemed so embarrassed about it when I asked," he continued. "She told me about where the title came from, and how Emile Zola discusses a 'brave new world.' It was absolutely fascinating. But what was more interesting was the joy that she clearly felt while taking about it. I never knew she had that much energy about her and I just, I couldn't help but think of you the whole time." A slight blush crept its way across his cheeks as he said this, and I smiled, pausing in my chewing. It was a rare occasion when he blushed, my lover usually so confident. When the moment presented itself, as it was doing now, I always took the moment to bask in the image. He looked positively beautiful.
"In what way?" I asked after I swallowed.
His grey-blue eyes raised to meet mine, and the sincerity I found there nearly took my breath away. "When we first met, you were terminally shy. I thought you were afraid of me. But once we got into conversation, you just got so excited and looked so positively captivating. You still do that. She just reminded me of our first date."
He looked away then, smiling shyly and slowly picking his fork into his carrots. The action made my heart swell. "So what else," I asked, filing away this moment into a cabinet in my brain.
"Well, she introduced herself. Her first name is Ellen, in case you were wondering. I mean, that's pretty much it. We didn't have a long, life changing chat, it was just a brief hello." He chewed happily on his vegetables, his lips smacking together causing me to laugh.
"She didn't say anything about..." I trailed off, waving my hand through the air. He shook his head.
"She didn't even say 'oh, I've seen you before.' Honestly, baby, there is nothing to worry about. Now can you stop spying on the librarian and focus your attention on me when we're there," he said jokingly.
"N'aw, is someone getting jealous?" I teased.
"You know I love having your attention on me at all times," he whispered leaning in for a kiss. I happily obliged him, smiling as I did so.
"Cheeky," I whispered as our lips separated.
Later that evening, I watched Dominic as he slept, his hair falling against the pillow with wild abandon. Cradled against me, my arm beneath his head, the evenness with which his chest rose and fell soothed my worried mind. Perhaps my gut instinct about Ellen was right, perhaps Dominic was right: she was nothing to worry about at all. But I still wouldn't allow myself to be careless. Running my fingers up and down his left shoulder, a rush of affection and love filled my body.
I would never risk the incredible calmness our life had assumed. While it was horrible to pretend I didn't know the man who was pressed so tightly against me at that moment, the alternative was simply unbearable. Disrupting our peace would mean I would never be able to watch Dominic sleep this easily again.
No, I decided resolutely before I drifted to sleep, I would never allow myself to get careless.
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I am so glad you're enjoying it. I hope you enjoy the rest!