Chapter 166: Cherish
Abby wasn't entirely sure what she was going to come home
to.
Tim. That was a given.
Tim in what sort of state was what she was wondering about.
She knew he had talked to Ducky yesterday. Two reasons for
that, first of all, he told her he was going to talk to him, and secondly,
Ducky wandered over to her lab and had lunch with her. And while it's true that
he's an excellent secret keeper, apparently when it comes to things like this
he considers Tim and Abby to be one person, so he made sure that she knew
everything they'd talked about.
Ducky seemed especially concerned that Tim might have
thought that he deserved some of the things John had said to him. Abby was
fairly sure that something got lost in translation there, because she'd never
gotten that sense from Tim, but she'd also seen how blindsided he'd been by the
idea that the other adults in his life had failed him, which is making her
think that she understands what happened between John and Tim very differently
than how Tim understands it.
And when she got home yesterday, it was pretty clear he
wasn't his usual self.
Not depressed or in pain or weepy, but he was working
extremely hard on not thinking about something, and she had a pretty good idea
of what something was.
Apparently he talked to Ducky, got home, took a nap, made a
call to see about some basketball tickets, and then watched thirteen episodes
of Supernatural back to back, and yeah, he likes that show, but… But that's not
Gosh-this-is-so-good-I-can't-put-it-down. That's
I'm-keeping-my-brain-active-so-I-don't-have-to-deal-with-what's-really-going-on.
Though, as she thought about it, that probably wasn't all of
what was going on there. Supernatural is, at its heart, two brothers surviving
after years of abuse or near abuse (it's never out and out stated, but it's
hinted at) by their father. Whose name is John. Who's ex-military. Who's
training them to be soldiers. Who thinks they're too soft for the war at hand
and need to be toughened up to be able to fight it. It's about Dean who stayed,
became the man his father wanted him to be, and broke under it. It's about Sam
who left, who refused to be the man his father wanted, and got sucked back into
it, and broke because he wasn't strong enough for what came later. And it's
about Bobby, a new father figure, who loves them no matter what, encourages
them to be the men they need to be, and forgives all transgressions.
She wondered if Tim knew why he was binging on Supernatural.
As a general rule, Abby's not really great at just letting
things be. She's especially not good at just letting things be when they
involve people she loves dealing with things that are painful. So, yesterday,
she got home, and for an hour they ate dinner and watched more Supernatural,
which was all she could take without flat out asking about it, and he shook his
head, not ready to talk, so even though she wanted to bombard him with
questions and hugs and petting and comfort and offers to kill his dad, she
didn't. She sat next to him, snuggled, and quietly watched six more episodes of
Supernatural until Tim was having a hard time keeping his eyes open and they
went to bed.
He was still asleep when she had to get up for work, so she
let him sleep and headed in to do paperwork.
She was filling out her reports when her phone chimed to let
her know she had a text from Tim. A very sexy text. And playing nurse certainly
sounded good. It's been six days, and the last time they went that long without
sex he was in North Carolina, so that was nice, but she was uncertain where he
is mentally, and if desire for sex is genuine or just a way to push thinking
about things further back.
She thought it was probably a bit of both. Since he's been
sick, she's been sleeping spooned behind him, cuddling him, but if she had been
in the front this morning, she certainly would have taken advantage of him. Some morning erections are more impressive than others, and this morning was
extremely impressive. She had been very tempted to roll him on his back, wake
him up very nicely, and go into work late, but she'd already called out one day
that week, and he was out sick, so duty won and she made it work on time.
Besides, he is sick and needs all the rest he can get.
So, basically, as she walks in the door, she's not sure if
he's going to be ready to pounce on her for sex, glued to Sam and Dean, in the
midst of an existential crisis, or getting a nap.
She was, however, wearing a pair of scrubs she'd stolen from
Autopsy on the off chance the answer is ready to pounce.
Abby didn't hear anything as she hung her jacket up, which
increased the chances of nap or existential crisis, and took Sam and Dean out
of the running. She did a quick circuit of the downstairs. No Tim. That took
existential crisis off the list, as well, because anything along those lines
happens in his office and usually is accompanied by the sound of typing.
(Though she noticed there was a blank sheet of paper in his typewriter and a
half filled sheet of Deep Six next to it, so something along those lines at
least started…)
In the kitchen, she noticed he did have curry chicken going
in the slow cooker, so that was good, and pointed toward nap or sex, both of
which he'd probably want to have quick, easy food available for after.
She headed upstairs, quietly, and looked into their room.
Usually Tim sleeps on his side or stomach, but right now
he's sprawled across the bed, on his back.
 |
| zzzzzzz |
But, the thing is, he is laying on his back, which he almost
never does, and laying on his back means he's in one of the few positions where
you can tell that the guy under the blankets is sporting a massive erection.
So, she's not entirely certain about nap, but sex got bumped
to the top of the list.
For a few seconds, she plays with the idea that Farewell To
Arms is one of his favorite books and about a nurse fooling around with one of
her patients, but she can't remember the character names (hasn't read it since
high school), and her sense is that it ended badly, so that's probably not a
great game fodder.
She wonders if he's naked under the blankets. He's got them
up to his chin. (Also suggestive of really sleeping, especially in winter. If
it wasn't for the fact that he hates to have anything on his face, he'd sleep
entirely under the blankets when it's cold out.) Tim usually takes all his
clothing off for nighttime sleep, but both of them tend to nap in whatever they
happened to be wearing when the desire to nap hit. At least, she does. He
doesn't get naps all that often, so he doesn't exactly have a 'regular napping
routine.' But, at least for this last week, if he's grabbing a nap, he's doing
it in whatever he was wearing when he drifted off.
He's also been home alone all day, so it's entirely possible
he didn't bother to get dressed at all.
Nah. It's cool enough he'd put some clothing on. He's got no
issues with being naked around the house, but he also hates feeling cold, so
he's usually got something on if he's not in bed or the shower.
Okay, enough dithering. He's either sleeping or not, naked
or not, and there's no way to figure it out by leaning against the door.
She's in scrubs, he'd texted her about playing doctor, and
no matter else is going on, his dick is very obviously interested in sex. Time
to get to it.
He's got a cup of tea on the bedside table, that'd do for
props.
Abby headed over to him, and gently rubbed his shoulder
while saying, "Mr. McGee."
He had to be dreaming. She noticed his eyes fluttering
quickly and the way he didn't stir at all when she said his name or touched
him.
"Mr. McGee…" she shook his shoulder a little
harder. He mumbled something disappointed sounding and rolled onto his side.
"Time to wake up, Mr. McGee. Time for your
medicine."
He had a very confused and grumpy expression on his face
when he opened the one eye. But confused and grumpy rapidly vanished when he
saw Abby in scrubs and then he knew what was going on and didn't seem to mind
getting woken up any more.
She smiled at him, seeing the realization that the sex he
had been dreaming about was about to get switched out for real sex light his
face.
Abby helped him sit up, noticed that he at least had a
t-shirt on, and handed him the cup of tea. He drank some, just rolling with the
game and the "medicine", and handed it back to her.
"Good." She said, lying her hand on his forehead.
"No fever. You look like you're starting to feel better."
He nodded. "Yeah. I think I'm almost on the mend. Maybe
get out of here in a day or two." For a guy who was full on asleep and
dreaming two minutes ago, and judging by how hard he was, dreaming about some
really good sex, Tim is phenomenally good at switching into play mode.
"Maybe. I'm glad you're feeling better, but I'll miss
seeing you every day." She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead.
"You put it like that, and maybe I'll see if I can
stick around longer."
"No. I wouldn't want you to be sick any longer than you
have to be. But maybe you'll come back and visit me?" she made sure to
sound hopeful as she said that.
"Or maybe we could see each other somewhere other than
here?" Tim said, a little flirty tone to his voice.
She smiled at that. "I'd like that." She folded
the blanket back. "Arms up. Might as well get you washed off if you're
going home soon."
So he put his arms up and let her take his t-shirt off. He
appeared to be looking forward to this sponge bath. If the smile on his face
was anything to go by, really looking forward to it. She helped him scoot out
of his flannel pj pants, and yeah, he'd definitely been dreaming of sex. Abby
knows guys get hard-ons when they sleep, that it's just part of the body
functioning. But there's everything's just working, and then there's standing
at full attention, balls tight to the body, damp spot on the pants, which she
knows means Tim was about a minute from coming in his sleep.
She looked up from his penis and grinned. "Looks like
part of you is really looking forward to a bath."
He smiled back. "That part of me is always in favor of
being handled by a beautiful woman."
She headed for their bathroom, grabbed a wash cloth, soaked
it with hot water, and headed back to their bed.
He was laying on the bed in way too good of a mood to be
convincingly sick, but she doesn't mind that at all.
She knelt on the bed next to him, stretched his arm to the
side, and gently stroked the towel up his arm. Tim purred at that, and then he
sort of jerked because she got to his armpit, which was apparently ticklish,
and then suddenly he looked like he wasn't having a really great time anymore.
"Abigail." He broke the game with his safe word.
"Not this."
"No?" She looked concerned, obviously something
was off, this was great two seconds ago, but isn't now.
"No." He's rubbing his arm dry. "It cools off
really fast and maybe in August when it's 95 out this'll be fun, but right now,
not so much."
"Okay." That made a lot of sense. She put the
washcloth on the bedside table, quickly shucked out of the scrubs, and lay down
next to him on her side, facing him. Enough games, time to touch. "Maybe
try that game again later?"
"Maybe." He rested his hand on her hip, eyes
tracing over her naked body. "God, you're so beautiful." She lifted
his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers. Then trailed her fingers down his
chest, over his stomach, to trace over his erection.
His eyes slid almost shut, and he sighed happily, watching
her hand slip up and down on him. "That feels so good."
"I bet it does."
"You know, I was reading that gentle sex is good for
healing up from being sick."
"Really?" Her fingers trailed up from the base of
his dick to his stomach and then across his chest, circling his nipple.
"Yep. Endorphins help you feel better, light exercise
is good for you, stuff like that."
"Uh huh." Abby leaned in close, her lips a few
millimeters from his. "How about rough, wild sex?"
He grinned, kissed her soft and gentle. "As long as
we're done in less than a minute, I think I've got the stamina for that."
She giggled. "Gentle sex, then?"
"Well, I mean, if you want to get off, too. It's been
almost a week for me, so anything other than slow, soft, and gentle'll be done
really fast."
Her hand stroked back down his chest and curled firmly
around him, and he exhaled low and deep. "So, you're saying you haven't
done anything all week?"
"Nope. Nothing at all."
"Not even this?" Her hand pulled from base to tip.
"Ohhh…" He bit his lip and watched her do it.
"Nope, not even that."
"So, how bad do you want this?"
"God. Bad, so bad. If you hadn't woken me up, I would
have come in my sleep like a teenager."
"Looks like I got here just in the nick of time."
"Oh yeah." He inhaled a fast, jerky little breath
as she lightly scraped her fingernail over the tip as her other hand pulled up.
"Ohhhh… God, baby, that's so good."
She bent her head and licked the tip. His hips jerked when
she touched him, and she knew exactly what she wanted to do with him. He's too
keyed up, too turned on for anything that'll take long, and she's not nearly
that turned on. So this round's for him, and later, after dinner, when he's not
on a hair trigger, there'll be sex for both of them.
"So, really, nothing?" She let go, rolled over,
and headed to their toybox.
He propped himself on his left elbow, watching her, not
approving of her letting go of his dick and getting up, so he sounds a little
testy when he said, "Been kind of sick lately. Maybe you noticed?"
"And distracted?" Abby asked, looking over her
shoulder, a somewhat serious expression on her face. She knows now isn't the
time, but she does want him to know she's aware of what's going on.
"And distracted," he agreed.
She found what she was looking for and turned back to him,
showing him the wrist cuffs, and suddenly he decided her getting up was a good
thing. She opened the drawer to her bedside table and got the lube as well, and
the expression on his face was certainly indicating he was all in favor of
whatever was going to come next, even if she did have to let go of him to do
it.
"When you're ready, I want to talk to you about
distracted."
"I know, and it'll be soon, probably dinner. But,
please, not right now!"
"No." She grinned. "Not right now. Right
now…" She nudged him to let him know to lie down on his back, straddled
his chest, threaded the cuffs between the slats on their headboard, and then
cuffed his wrists to each other over his head. He groaned while she did it,
looking very pleased. He let his head fall back and just relaxed into her
taking over.
"Head up."
He did as she asked, and she tucked an extra pillow under
his head. "I want you to watch."
"Yes."
She flicked open the cap of the lube and drizzled a long
stream into her palm.
"So, nothing at all for almost a week means you're
really eager, right?" She slowly rubbed the lube between her hands,
letting him watch them slip over each other, enjoying the intense concentration
on his face and how his eyes were glued to her hands.
"Oh yes!"
"Good. I want to watch you come. And I want you to
watch me do it for you."
"Oh yeah," he breathed.
"I thought you'd like that."
"Yes."
She knelt between his legs. "I'm going to do you nice
and slow and steady. Only one rule for you, lay back and watch me do it."
"God, yes."
And she did. She used both hands, kept them fairly tight,
slipping over him nice and slow.
He groaned at the pleasure of wet, slick skin on his. His
eyelids settled into that three-quarters closed droop they go to when he wants
to see what she's doing, but also wants to close them because it feels so good.
His jaw clenched as she pulled both hands all the way up and
off him, and then all the way back down again, head of his cock slipping tight
through each finger, in one long and slow slide. He rolled his hips in
counterpoint, getting a little more friction, and she let him. She's not trying
to draw this out, not much at least. Just slow enough so there's some build up
and he can really feel it.
He inhaled fast, head back, almost pained expression on his
face, as everything shrunk down to her hands and his cock and how good it felt.
"You're so beautiful, Tim." She shifted her
position so she could lay on her side next to him. She kept up the long, slow
strokes with her right hand, and twined her left in his hair, as she gazed into
his eyes. "So beautiful." She lowered her mouth to kiss him, and he
exhaled a soft ohhh against her lips.
He inhaled with a hiss, mouth open, body growing tense as he
did it. "Keep looking at me, baby."
And he did, eyes glazed, lips wet and open, cheeks and
throat flushed, jaw, neck, and shoulders tight.
"I love you, Tim. You look so incredible, baby, so
sexy, and I want to make you feel so good. Wanna watch your face as you
come." She moved her hand just a hair faster and his body tensed just a
little further, not moving, not breathing, just teetering on the edge of
orgasm. "God, baby, you're so beautiful, just come for me, please?"
He exhaled a long, silent, shaking breath as his orgasm
slipped through him in hot, wet, wracking pulses that pulled his leg and arms
tight as his head fell back.
She gently pumped a few more times, pulling every second of
pleasure out of him, then grabbed the wash cloth, used it to clean him up, and
uncuffed his wrists.
He was laying on his back when she uncuffed him, but he
rolled onto his side quickly after that, and she curled into his back,
snuggling in close, wrapping her arm under his, letting her hand rest against
his chest.
At first, she thought the little shake that went through him
was just an orgasmic aftershock. The second time it happened it was a little
harder than the first, and that's not how aftershocks work. By the third one,
she knew what was happening. She cuddled in closer, kissing the back of his
neck.
"I love you, Tim." He shook again, and she knew he
was crying.
When she'd been getting him off, she was talking because it
was just right. It was that moment and he was so gloriously beautiful falling
apart under her hands, and she wanted to say it to him. But now she's a little
more focused on the whole picture, and so right now she knows there are things
she needs to say, things he needs to hear, so she says them. "I love you
for exactly who you are, and who you're going to be."
And she knows that he needs to hear it, and she knows that
she's not the person he needs to hear it from, but the person he needs to hear
it from won't say it, so she will, over and over and as often as he needs. And
it's not the same thing, and it won't, can't fix things, but it doesn't need
to.
"I love you. You are an amazing man. You're brilliant
and gentle and kind and you are going to be a great father, and I love you so
much."
She felt his hand close around hers, holding tight as he
inhaled fast, and hard, soft, quiet sobs broke the exhale.
"You're my life, Tim. You're my home. You're the first
person I want to see in the morning and the last at night and the person I want
to see most through the rest of the day. I love you, baby." She lay there
behind him, whispering soft words, holding him while he cried, trying to fill
him up with all the praise and adoration he didn't get as kid, knowing she
can't do it, but it doesn't matter that she can't fill that hole, he still
deserves to hear it.
Until that moment, Abby had thought love and cherish were
synonyms. Thought they more or less meant the same thing. But they don't. And
this beautiful man in her arms deserves to be cherished every single day of the
rest of his life.
She added a silent vow to their marriage, to the list of
promises she will keep for him. I will cherish you.
After a few more minutes he quieted down, relaxing against
her. Finally, he rolled over to face her and said, voice rough, "Looks
like I'm not as done as I thought I was."
She flashed him a curious expression, because that didn't
make sense to her. He closed his eyes, touched her face gently, kissed her, and
said, "Dinner. I'll tell you all about it while we eat."
"Okay."
She kissed him, lips light and encouraging, holding the hand
he has cupped on her face.
"I love you, Tim."
"I know."
"Good. Because if anyone ever deserved to be loved
fully, madly, passionately, every cell of my body adores every one of yours,
it's you."
He smiled a little at that and then sat up. "Dinner?"
"Yeah, I'm starving."
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