76: An Immodest Proposal
He’d gone through at least fifty proposal ideas while he
waited for the ring to get made. Dinner out? Romantic walk on the beach/mountains/wine
country/art museum? (If the ring had gotten done sooner, something along those
lines would have been part of his vacation plans.) In bed? Before, during, or
after sex? Dinner in? Did food really have to be involved in this? On their
anniversary? When the hell was their anniversary? First date ten years ago? God,
when was that? Fall? Probably Fall. He could go find the case and look up when
that was and from there figure it out. Second first date with The Generics? Would
have been great if it wasn’t last week. (He checked the ticket stubs, yes he
kept them, and yes, Abby was right, it was the 23rd.) First time he
met her? In the lab, same place he asked her out the first time? Long
declaration of love? Marry me? Say it out loud? Write it down? Sonnet? Blank
verse? Text? So many options, and none of them felt really right.
As they were driving across the country, he noticed a lot of
Jack o’ Lanterns out, and as they kept passing pumpkins an idea started to
form, and as he pondered it, he decided he liked it.
“Do you still have your Marilyn Monroe dress?” Tim asked as
they were getting ready for bed that night. He’s leaning against the sink,
toothbrush in hand, shirtless, but, at least for the time being, his jeans aren’t
going anywhere, because he needs a pocket. Well, he needs what’s in his pocket.
“Yes. Why?” Abby’s still dressed. White t-shirt, black and
red plaid skirt, and knee socks. She’s washed off her makeup and is in the
process of taking down her hair.
“Halloween is coming up, and I was thinking we might go out
together.”
She nods. That’d be fun. “With me as Marilyn?” she turns to
face him as she brushes out her hair.
“Yep.” Her expression says she knows something is up besides
Halloween plans. Tim realizes he’s probably beaming at her as they talk, and he’s
usually naked by this point in their bedtime routine, so the pants are a giveaway
that he’s got something planned.
“And who would you be?” That was exactly the question he
wanted her to ask.
| Monroe&Miller |
Abby thinks about that for a moment, and he can feel himself
grinning, willing her to figure out what her next line was.
“Weren’t they married?”
Perfect! “Yes.” He
looks at her expectantly for a moment. Her eyes widen as she realizes what he’s
saying, and her mouth falls open as he kneels before her. He’s glad he
practiced it, because he’s able to kneel, get the box out of his pocket, open,
and in front of her while simultaneously saying, “Abby, will you marry me?”
She stared at the ring, her fingers hovering over the garnet,
eyes bright and wide. “Tim?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s so beautiful.”
He’s smiling so widely at that he feels like his face might
crack.
“Stand up.”
He does and she jumps into his arms, wrapping her legs
around his hips and her arms around his neck. He wasn’t braced properly for it,
and they both fall to the floor, which he only half notices because she’s
covering him in kisses and making a very happy noise, that could possibly be
the word “Yes” repeated over and over very fast in a high-pitched, excited
voice.
After a minute, she pulls back, sitting on his thighs,
grinning an impossibly wide and happy grin. He sits up, and kisses her again,
deeply this time, lips slipping over hers in soft caresses. He notices the ring
is still in the box, still in his hand, so he takes it out, and by feel alone,
slides it onto her finger.
 |
| Not exactly right, but close |
He grins at her. “You’re perfect. I just had to find the
ring that went with that.”
“You did.” She takes it off to really look at it. “What is
it?”
“Garnet, black diamonds, black titanium.”
“It’s so beautiful.”
She handed it back to him, and held out her hand, and once more he slipped it
onto her finger. “It’s like the thing my hand always needed but didn’t know it
was missing.”
He brushes his fingers through her hair as she says that,
staring into her eyes.
“It’s the thing, well, one of them, I’ve always wanted to
give you.”
“One of them?”
He brushes his hand, his fingers trailing along her arm, across
the tattoo they have in common. “There’s one.” He kisses her again, softly this
time, hints of suggestions of touch. His fingers drift back to hers. “And one
of these days, I’ll give you a wedding ring.” He lifts her hand to his mouth,
kissing the tips of each finger, then the base of her palm, lipping gently over
her wrist, and then tracing his fingers lightly up her arm as she shivered and
squirmed at his touch.
His gaze held hers as he said, “I’d like to give you my name.”
She’s smiling so brightly now, the kind of smile that always
lights him up, and she kisses him, then says, “Abby McGee.”
He can’t hold in how good that feels and just smiling, or
grinning can’t get it out, so warm, happy laughter bursts out of him. When he
stops, he kisses her again, and then guides her hand behind her, and holds her
wrist lightly behind her back. With his free hand he traces from her shoulder
to her belly, lingering along the side of her breast, before drifting to the
hem of her shirt. Lifting her shirt, he rubs his knuckles gently against her
stomach. Tim breaks the kiss, holds her gaze and quietly says, “And not too
long after that, I’ll give you a baby.”
“Yes!” Her eyes are gleaming, and she scoots forward a bit,
breasts pressed against his chest, body warm and encouraging. He’s holding her
left hand in his, but her right is free, so she caresses his face with it.
Fingers skittering from eyelid to cheek to lips, he closes his eyes and leans
into the touch. She kisses his eyelids, the tip of his nose, and then settles
on his lips.
A minute later, he breaks the kiss and says, “I want to give
you a home.”
She kisses him long and deep, then pulls back, radiant smile
on her face and a look of deeply content tenderness in her eyes. “I already
have one, Tim. Anywhere you are is my home.”
He smiles, or really, keeps smiling, he’s been smiling this
whole time, because he can’t not smile, and lets go of her wrist, spanning the
small of her back with his hands, and pulling her tighter to him while lifting
her shirt off.
His fingers trace over her shoulders, down her arms, raising
goosebumps on her skin, as he kisses her jaw and neck.
“I love you, Abby.”
She kisses him again, clinging to him, lips sweet and warm.
“I love you, too.”
She begins a slow rolling motion, and he groans softly, then
takes her hips in his hands and holds her still. “Okay, if we’re going to keep
doing this, we’ve got to move, because these pants are going to cut me in half
if I don’t adjust myself.”
She begins to laugh: loud, bright, and happy. Then stands
and offers him her hand.
“Then let’s get you adjusted. It’d be a tragedy if you were
cut in half.”
He stands up, and as he does so, she reaches for the top button
on his jeans. A second later, he’s naked in front of her.
“Better?”
“Almost.” He unhooks her bra, and kneels in front of her,
pulling off her panties, leaving on the plaid skirt and knee socks. He smiles
widely at her. “Now, I’m a whole lot better.”
“You and your Catholic school girl kink.”
“Me and my you kink. What do I want a Catholic school girl
for when I’ve got you?”
“Good answer.”
He stands up, stepping in close, his body next to hers,
close enough to feel the heat, and for his penis to rub against the skirt, but
the rest of him not touching, and then looks her up and down.
She licks her lips, and he leans down to lick her, stroke
her tongue with his.
She sighs as he does that, and moves a fraction of an inch
closer, still not touching anywhere other than tongues and penis.
“What do you want tonight?” he whispers to her.
“Take me.”
“Oh yes.” He pulls her flush against him, reveling in the
feel of her skin on his and her body tight and quivering in his arms.
He kisses her, taking the lead, his lips and tongue calling
the dance while she squirms against him, rocking her hips against his. This
time, when his hands settle on her hips, it’s to encourage the motion, to pull
her harder against him.
Without breaking the kiss, he picks her up. She gets the
idea and helps, wrapping her legs around his hips as he carries her to their
bed. He sets her on the edge of the bed, and stands between her legs. She looks
up at him, eyes wide, lips wet.
“You are so beautiful.”
She smiles at that and lies back on the bed, her hips flush
with the edge, legs dangling to either side of him.
There were a few careful measurements Tim took when they got
their bed made. One of which was how high off the floor the top of the mattress
would be. Specifically, it’s exactly the
right height for him to kneel and go down on her, or stand and fuck her.
And with her laid out on the bed in front of him, he finds
himself eagerly contemplating both happy options.
His fingers trace up the inside of her legs, light teasing brushes of skin on skin. He gets to her hips and flips up the skirt so it covers her stomach and bares her sex.
“I love you. Love looking at you like this. Naked and open
for me. Love this so much.”
She sits up, and kisses his erection, licking the tip. “Love
you. Love seeing you like this, standing over me, hot and hard.”
He groaned at those words, feeling them like a flush of heat
through his dick.
He leaned forward to kiss her, stroking her tongue with his,
feeling her hand wrap around him and pull. He went with it, enjoyed it for a
moment and then broke the kiss and took her hand away.
She pouted a little at that. “You can do me tomorrow.
Remember, you asked me to take you?”
She nods.
“Lay down.”
And she does, a grin on her lips.
He kneels between her legs, kissing his way up her thigh,
stroking her calves lightly. He pauses at the top of her thigh, and spends
another moment just looking at her. “So, so beautiful,” he murmurs before flicking
his tongue lightly over her.
She jerked a little at the touch and then sighed. He settled
into it, slow and lazy, not rushing this. His hands continuing to ghost along
her thighs while his tongue drew small firm circles over her clit.
She moaned, and he pulled back enough to say, “Like that?”
“God, yes, don’t stop.”
“Not until you’re arching against my mouth and quivering on
my tongue.”
“Ohhh...” She rolled her hips against him, and he went back
to licking. He sped up slowly, keeping her at a slower pace than she would have
liked, but he wants this to take a while. Wants her begging him before he gets
her off.
He started with one finger, not in her, just softly teasing.
Feather light touches over her lips, barely grazing against her vagina. She
growled a little at him, frustration at the teasing lack of penetration.
He continued to just lightly pet, and stopped licking just
long enough to say, “Tell me what you want.”
She moaned again as his tongue slowed down, but increased in
pressure. He’s just rolling it over her clit, long slow strokes designed to
make her squirm.
“Fuck, Tim, get me off!”
His tongue started to move just slightly faster, and he
added a second finger, two of them slipping over her lips, stroking her, not
entering.
“Little more specific?” He’d grin if his lips weren’t busy,
but he’s enjoying teasing her like this.
“Stop fooling around with those fingers and fuck me with
them!”
And so he did. He pulled back just long enough to suck on
both of them, make sure they were good and wet, and then thrust them in, fast
and hard, while his tongue went back to licking, this time fast and light.
He couldn’t see her do it, but he could imagine it, and he
was fairly sure she threw her head back, arched her back and neck, and clenched
her hands in the sheets. He knew for a fact that she started a long stream of “Fuck
baby, yeah, just like that, fuck, oh...” sweet profanity that made him feel
like a sex god.
Then words stopped, they morphed into a high-pitched, almost
panting moan, and her legs wrapped tight around his neck and shoulders as her
body jerked against his.
He let her come down for a moment, just long enough to stop
twitching, then stood, pinned her hands to the bed above her head, and slipped
into her.
He hissed at it: hot, wet, slick, and snug all perfect and
all at once.
He’s taking his time at this, enjoying the feel of her on
him. She’s arching against him, her legs around his hips, feet crossed over the
small of his back.
He can feel it building, feel himself start to move faster,
start to give into the pleasure and the desire to thrust. She’s looking at him,
kissing him, licking his neck. He feels her teeth on his ear, and her body
squeezing tight around him. And that does it, sets him off, small fireworks
burst along his spine and balls, and he thrusts hard and deep.
A minute or two later she smiles at him, and kisses him
gently. Eventually they untangle, and clean up, and then they’re in bed
together, relaxing and inching toward sleep. He’s lying on his back, and she’s
snuggled into his side, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest. He’s stroking his fingers absently up and
down hers, feeling the ring there.
“What does an Arthur Miller costume even look like?” Abby
asks.
“It doesn’t matter. No one notices the guy standing next to
Marilyn Monroe.”
“Marilyn does.” Abby smiles.
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