Fan fic, original fic, fic recs, and artwork by Keryl Raist.
Friday, February 20, 2015
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 405: Guarded
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 405: Guarded
Tim wakes the same way he's woken up every day for the last three weeks. Hurting. It's not too bad right now, which means he hasn't gotten to time for his next pill, but it's there, it's almost always there, and it's the first thing he notices.
From there, comes the slow realization that there's a body spooned up against his, which is nice.
And then the very startled sensation of uncertainty as to whose body is spooned up against his, because he's pretty certain Jimmy was in the room when he went to sleep, and he's pretty much hoping that Jimmy is not full body cuddling him, if for no other reason than because when he got into bed for his nap, he took his pants off.
He's not exactly panicking at the idea, but it is somewhat uncomfortable. Eventually extra details filter through, like the legs pressed to the back of his are smooth, and so is the face that's pressed against his neck, plus, there's no way Jimmy's wearing that scent (Breena did get him a few colognes, but none of them have jasmine or almond as main notes), so… Okay, this can't be Jimmy, which means Abby's home and she's napping, and he's a lot happier having figured that out.
He stretches a bit, and looks over, seeing that it's a bit past three. So, Kelly's probably got another hour of naptime.
Abby's arm is carefully threaded under his cast arm, low on his abs to avoid the broken ribs. Right now he wishes he could hold her hand. Hold it without thinking or shifting around. Just let the natural inclination to slide his hand into hers become real. His left arm doesn't easily bend to where her hand is, not when he's lying on it, but his right hand is only a few inches from her hand. Normally, he'd just thread his fingers in hers and give her a little squeeze. Not happening today.
He feels her kiss the back of his neck.
"Hi," he says, quiet and tentative. If she's petting him in her sleep, he doesn't want to wake her.
Just waking up, or still sleeping. He goes quiet and still. Not like he's got anything to leap out of bed for right now. Not like he could leap even if he did.
She kisses the back of his neck again, and her hand moves a few inches further down his abs. He smiles as she gently cups him. Maybe he's got something to do for the next hour.
Like all the sex they've been having lately (as opposed to the sex he's writing, and she's reading) this is slow and soft and gentle. It feels good. Her body on his always feels good. And right now, there's the extra layer of safe and warm and comfort and love. The sense that when they're together, like this, the rest of the world fades away and cannot touch them.
And that's so good. He needs that bubble of safe around him, and she does, too.
But right now he's missing holding her tight to him, missing the feel of her full body up against his. Even with her on top, his arm is in the way. Real sex, weeknight sex, morning sex, the kind that makes up probably ninety percent of the sex they have, usually begins with facing each other, on their sides, pressed up close, kissing and petting, rubbing against each other.
It starts with his right arm under her neck, and his left stroking back and butt and leg. It starts with kissing, lips to lips, belly to belly, her hand in his hair, the other one stroking his face, her leg over his hip. Soft words, soft kisses, face to face, skin to skin, bodies flush against each other.
Sometimes it ends there, both of them on their sides, rocking together. Sometimes he rolls onto her, or she rolls onto him, sometimes kisses travel down bodies, for different flavors of sex, but real sex almost always involves that close, face to face, body to body, kissing while making love aspect that's been stolen by the position of his arm.
She's straddling him, rocking up and down, that vertical and horizontal grind that's so good for both of them. A lot of real sex shifts to this position for climax time, good view, easy clit access, easy movement. His left hand works just fine, so he's able to stroke her clit and ramp her up until she's flushed and shuddering over him, until her body clenching on his sends him twitching and gasping, and, for a moment, not hurting.
She rests over him, braced on her palms, kissing gently, the tips of her breast rubbing against his chest. That's good, too, but he misses the weight of her collapsed on his chest and hips, misses the feel of her butt under both of his hands as he kisses her forehead, feeling her hair against his neck and chest and shoulder.
It must be showing in his eyes because she asks, "You okay?"
He smiles a little. "As well as I can be."
"Missing all of you on all of me. Wishing I didn't have this stupid dead arm strapped to the middle of my torso. Wishing my ribs could take your weight."
She kisses him, then reaches for the tissues, quickly cleaning both of them up, and then nudges him so he's on his side again and she's flush against his back, leg draped over his hips, arm around his waist.
"Some." He shifts around a bit, until his left hand finds hers, and lifts it to his lips, kissing each finger. "Want to kiss you, too. Wanna be able to fuck like this."
She squeezes him very gently, snugging up tight to his back, slipping her leg along his, and kissing his neck. "Nothing I can do about kissing lip to lip, but if you feel up to doing the prep work, tonight we can definitely fuck like this."
His eyebrows shoot up. That wasn't what he was thinking of for fucking. He's not sure why; he likes it and it's a pretty obvious fix, but it hasn't crossed his mind in a while. But… yeah, that'd do the trick. He's not sure if he can get himself prepped. He and Abby are beyond intimate, but the cleanup for anal is not something he wants help with.
"If I can get myself cleaned up, I will happily take you up on that."
He can feel her grin against his back. "You know, I bet I can wear the strap on and the butterfly at the same time. I'll do you, and you can control the vibrator."
Tim bites his lip and whimpers lightly, many good images flooding his mind. "That'll work."
They mosey through getting up and dressed and are entirely ready for the real world outside of their bedroom by the time Kelly starts fussing.
Tim starts to get up and then stops. Abby smiles at him. "Soon enough."
He shakes his head at her as she goes to get their daughter. "No, it won't be." And while he doesn't mind not having to change diapers, yesterday isn't soon enough to get that arm working again so he can pick his daughter up.
He can hold Kelly in carefully controlled circumstances. Like, if he's already on the floor, or on the bed, he can hold her because there's no danger of dropping her. At a year old, she's very squirmy, and will try to throw herself out of his arms, and with only one arm to hold her, he has lost his grip on her several times.
Likewise, with only one arm, he can't pick her up. Someone has to hand her to him, like Abby is, right now.
Abby does hand her over, and Kelly, who is still looking a little sleepy, lays in his lap, feet on his tummy, looking up at him. "Hi, baby, you have a good nap?" he asks as she's watching him.
"Wonderful. Me, too."
"Yeah, Daddy got a nap, too."
He's read somewhere that one-year-olds more or less think the entire universe ceases to exist when they sleep, or that their dreams are real, or… Honestly he's thinks the guy who wrote that was just making it up based on what looked plausible, because how could you tell what a one-year-old really thinks about anything less concrete than: cookies yay or nay?
But however it works, she does seem surprised that Daddy got a nap, too.
"How was your morning?" he asks Abby as she sits down with them.
"Good. We went over to Pop's and played with Mona."
"Mona!" Kelly's got that concept down pat. "Woof! Doggie!"
"Mona is a doggie," Abby says.
"Bwack doggie. BIG, bwack doggie!"
Tim nods at her on that. "Big, black doggie." He exaggerates the L sound, but Kelly doesn't seem to notice him doing it. He looks to Abby. "Working on describing things?"
"Yeah. Kelly learned that she could sit in Gibbs' lap, throw a tennis ball, and Mona would bring it back to her."
Tim can imagine that, and then he doesn't need to. Abby pulls out her phone, and there's video of Kelly on Gibbs lap, her little hand trying to hold a tennis ball, his bigger hand holding hers and the tennis ball, moving her arm gently through an overhand toss, and then Mona gleefully tearing off to grab the ball and bring it back.
"That's adorable." Tim says, grinning.
"So, besides fetch, what'd you guys do?"
"Mostly fetch." She doesn't say more.
He's looking at her, wondering what she's not saying. His eyes ask, even though his lips don't. For him that's a halfway communication, a way of signaling, I want to know, but if you don't want to talk, I won't press.
"Talking with Gibbs some about how to deal with anger."
Now Tim's looking confused, and Abby sees it, so she explains more, "About John and Torri. You talk about it, and it make me so angry and…"
He shakes his head. "I get that. I can feel you boiling under the surface when I talk, and… I appreciate you keeping control, makes it easier for me to keep control, too, but I know how hard it hits you." Abby nods at that. That's why she's doing it. He doesn't need to deal with this and her on top of it. "Just, Gibbs?" Gibbs is not the first, second, or probably tenth guy Tim would go to on how to handle being angry in a constructive and socially acceptable manner.
"You know anyone angrier than him?"
Tim inclines his head. That's a good point. He doesn't know anyone who ran as hot as long as Gibbs did.
"Thought he might have some ideas."
"Beyond build boats and kill perps?"
Abby rolls her eyes a little and shakes her head. "No!" Then she goes very serious, staring right at Tim. "I wanted permission to go kill John. Figured he'd be the guy to give it to me."
Tim's not sure how to respond to that, though he can see how if what you want is external validation for murder, Gibbs would indeed be the guy to go to. "What'd he say?"
Abby looks disappointed. "That I couldn't kill him for the same reason he couldn't. Too obvious and no one was better off with us in jail."
Tim nods at that. "What'd you do with that?"
"Played more fetch. Focused on the fact that my loves are alive and here and healing. Tried to put it in the past. Talked shop with Gibbs about rifles and bullets. Jimmy's going to be getting some custom made rounds."
"Made by you."
She smiles savagely. "Yes."
Tim can imagine that, and then, in what is probably a horribly inappropriate response, he starts to giggle.
"What?" Abby really isn't expecting him to break out in giggles at the idea of her making sniper's rounds.
"Just imagining you signing them. You know, the way they used to do bombs? Some sort of mark. Little skull or something. I know you'd make sure it'd vanish before anyone could dig it out of him, but, the image of you painting a little skull on them… World War II pinup style."
Abby smiles at that, shaking her head a little. "You're feeling kind of goofy right now, aren't you?"
He nods. "I guess."
She thinks about it. "I could put a tiny little version of the picture of you from the Abby's Lab For Dummies in the coating. Paint it on first with the moly coating, then coat the whole round. No one would ever see it, but we'd know it was there."
Tim nods at that. "So, you're building bullets, Gibbs is training, Jimmy's shooting, and I just, what-"
He's about to say something like 'lay around being useless', but Abby cuts him off before he gets there with, "Heal."
"You're not going to wait to see if Jarvis comes through?"
Abby shrugs. "Not sure if waiting matters. It's going to take Jimmy a while to get the point where he's practicing with bullets, let alone firing them."
"So… you don't think Jarvis will do it?"
She nods. "We love you. He doesn't. I don't see him sticking his neck out for us. I can see him saying he will to kick it down the road, hoping it'll just go away, and then, when it doesn't go away, he'll leave it lying there, knowing we won't go against him if he doesn't go through with it. And by the time we know he didn't do it, the election is over and it won't matter so much if the whole thing blows up."
Tim sighs. That's a very logical take on this. Still… "So, if Jimmy's not going to ready to go anytime soon, why am I still healing? I am not going to be gimping around on this crutch a second longer than I need to! And I am getting my arm back. By the time you've got Jimmy ready to do it, I'll be healed up and then some, and I actually can shoot."
"From how far away?"
Tim thinks about it. He's never tried distance shooting, but… "Got to be faster to pick it up after you've already mastered rifles and hand guns than going at it cold."
Abby nods at that. "And you can do the math in your head."
"If I needed to. Or I can have my phone do it and cover my tracks on the phone so no one can find them. That's just detail work. That comes into play once we've got the target set."
"So, are we waiting for you to heal?"
"I'm waiting for Burley and Tony and Ziva. If they can't pin anything on him, then I'm waiting for Jarvis. If he doesn't move… It's not just about me. I need it, but, it's also…" Tim stops, trying to think of how to put this concretely. He's a cop. Most of his loves are cops, soldiers, and one assassin. He voluntarily shares his life with people who kill other people for a living. He's personally killed more than ten people himself. So, no, he doesn't ascribe to the idea that there's some sort of special malice that leaves eternal blackness upon your soul if you kill someone. But he also knows that it's not easy. Sorting that out, let alone in a way for Abby takes him a few seconds, but eventually he's got words for it. "Okay, look, I'm not JK Rowling, I don't think there's some sort of extra-special ultra-evil that goes with killing people. Sometimes you've got to do it. Some people need to be killed. The Admiral is one of them. But it's still hard, and Jimmy's had enough hard. He doesn't need this on his conscience."
Abby gives him a skeptical look. "You're saving Jimmy from himself?"
Tim shrugs some, winces, and hopes he can count that toward his shoulder exercises for today. "Some. I want to do it. I need to do it. If it saves him some sleepless nights, why not?"
Abby nods, stroking the back of his hand. "Your right and wrong about needing this. Just like me, he needs something to do with his anger, so does Gibbs, and training for it is good. So, don't take that away, not yet. I mean, he's flat out said he's cool with you killing John if that's your preference, so he doesn't need it like that, but…"
Tim nods. He completely gets that. "I don't need him to stop practicing. It's a good skill to have. Maybe we can both set up for it. See who's got the better shot when the time comes. Or both shoot. That'd screw with the investigation, double-teamed by snipers. Get in and out completely clean, two angles, two trajectories, two shooters, do it right and they'd never know which bullet was the kill shot."
"You've got the plot for your next Tibbs novel, don't you?"
He smiles a little at that. "I might have to write that down. Except, I can't publish it if I use it."
"Good point. Better point, don't write it down."
Tim nods. Last thing he needs is someone subpoenaing his notes and finding his kill scene set up.
Kelly's really starting to wake up, trying to squirm away from him, wanting to work on her crawling. Abby sees it, and says to their daughter, "Okay, let's get you onto the floor." She takes Kelly from Tim, and he stands up, grabbing for the crutch, getting ready to head downstairs. "Talk about bizarre conversations to have in front of our child."
Tim nods. "Once she can repeat what she hears, conversations like that, and probably a bunch of the work ones are going to be signed."
"Yeah. Though, with any luck, this is the last topic where we don't want the kids repeating what they hear."
Tim sniggers at that, looking Abby up and down, absolutely certain he is going to say things to her about what he wants to do with her in the future that might possibly make them blush should they be repeated to the neighbors or the other pre-school moms.
"Okay, conversations we can't have them repeating, as opposed to it'd be embarrassing."
He nods at that, and they begin the trek downstairs.
They have two hours before getting dinner ready. Nice afternoon like today and normally they'd strap Kelly into the snugli or stroller go for a walk or something.
Obviously, that's out. At least, assuming they want to get further than the end of the driveway in less than half an hour.
Abby puts Kelly on the floor, and stacks a bunch of her toys around. Some are in reach, some require her to get those little legs moving and crawl toward. They'll see if she can get to them. She pulls the coffee table over, too. Kelly's not crawling, but she does like to stand up, grab something, and lift her legs up like she's about to take a step. Hasn't mastered it yet, but she's trying.
"Think she's going to skip crawling and go straight to walking?" he asks Abby as she sits next to him on the sofa, and Kelly starts to eyeball the coffee table.
"That'd be our kid. 'Gotta crawl before you walk.' Oh no. Not for Kelly McGee."
She looks at them as she hears her name, watches for a second, sees that nothing interesting is going on, and goes back to trying to get up to grab the coffee table.
Abby kisses Tim and heads off for a moment. Then she's back, flicking on the TV and the PlayStation. Call of Duty comes up, and she's got a controller.
He's looking pouty. Yeah, sometimes he likes to watch her game, but not right now, not when all he can do is watch. "I can't game."
"You can't shoot. But you can be a spotter for me." She grins, handing him a laser pointer. "Killing everything that moved last night was a good thing. Do it with me?"
He nods and clicks on the pointer. Snipers have spotters. Might be good to work on that skill, too. Especially if it turns out that Jimmy's actually better with a rifle than he is. "So, what?"
"Point out what I need to be shooting at next."
Abby tells him about doing this with Tony last night. Tim keeps his eyes moving across the screen, flicking the pointer at targets, enjoying seeing Abby blow them away. It helps. Tim's pleased that Tony thought of this, because, sure he can't fight in the game, but as you get into it, it does bring up your adrenaline and fight or flight chemicals in a way just writing doesn't, and getting to shoot things, clear the board, kill the bad guys, helps banish some of that need to fight sensation.
No, it's not as good as going to Bootcamp, but he's got nothing in the way of options for that for probably months, so he'll take what he can get.
"So, was Jimmy here when you got home?" Tim asks as Abby comes into the kitchen with the delivery Chinese they're having for dinner.
"Yeah." She's grinning again. "That was really cute."
Tim's eyebrows go up. "Cute how?"
"He fell asleep, too, and was laying there, bed hogging away, taking up like three quarters of the mattress. Breena talks about that; how it doesn't matter how big the bed is, he just expands to take over all of it. He was cupping the back of your neck. I got pictures if you want to see."
Tim shakes his head. "I'm good."
"It's really cute."
"And I'm sure Breena appreciates the fact you got pictures." He wrestles the box of chicken and broccoli open one-handed, and then gives it to Abby, who spoons it out while he starts on the mixed veggies.
Abby laughs at that. "Why are you asking?"
He closes his eyes and opens them and she can feel I think this is kind of dumb, but it's real, so I'll tell you about it radiating off of him. "I fell asleep with one person and woke up with another. Literally. That was just weird."
"Did you think Jimmy was snuggling you and freak out?"
"I did not freak out," he says, defensively.
She stares at him.
"I was a bit concerned that may have been happening. I did not freak out."
"Uh huh." She takes the mixed veggies from him, and adds them to each plate, too, and he starts on the sweet and sour shrimp.
"Swimp!" Kelly loves the sweet and sour shrimp and knows them by sight and smell.
"Of course Mama got you shrimp. And look!" Abby grabs the bag with the spring rolls and pulls one out.
"Wowls!" Kelly loves spring rolls even more than sweet and sour shrimp. Her little hands are reaching out, tiny fingers extended. Abby hands over a spring roll and a huge smile spreads across Kelly's face as she snatches it close and starts to gnaw on the end.
"That sounded like it had some l sound in it," Tim says. "Good job, Kelly. Rolls." He pronounces the word carefully. But by that point Kelly was eating the roll and had no interest in talking about it.
"So what does concerned mean?" Abby asks.
"Mostly that I wasn't wearing pants and didn't necessarily want him rubbing against my ass."
Abby sniggers a bit at that. "Necessarily?"
Tim's got an expression on his face that Abby considers the physical equivalent of "Eh."
"Wouldn't have been terrible or anything. More comfortable than waking up with Diane, which I did freak out about, but getting spooned by Jimmy isn't exactly on my bucket list, you know?"
"He's good at it."
"I'm sure he is." Tim's about to say something like I don't need him humping my ass when it hits him that, not only was no one suggesting that, it also wasn't even being hinted at, and, in fact, if the body he woke up against had been Jimmy, and not Abby, all that was happening was cuddling, there was no rubbing or humping or anything else involving his ass going on. So whatever's causing this is coming from him, but not from whatever happened or may happen with Jimmy.
Since it's not actually a concern that's anything other than in his head, Tim doesn't mention it, and fortunately, Abby's cutting up the shrimp into littler pieces for Kelly, so she doesn't see that pause in Tim's train of thought.
"Still a little startling to fall asleep with one person and wake up with another one. Took way longer to figure out what was going on than it should have."
Abby nods at that. "Yeah, I can see that being disconcerting. So, why was he sleeping with you in the first place?"
Tim sighs. "Both of us being stupid, and the bad consequences thereof…" And he tells her about adventures in Autopsy, and why it's a bad idea to get x-rays there if you don't have to.
Abby winces along at his story, but she's pleased to see that as he's telling it, he's got some distance between now and what happened.
Of course, having Kelly up and active and constantly breaking into the conversation to make little statements like "Mowr swimp!" does wonders for keeping you pinned into the present.
Clean up for anal, is, by its very nature, messy. No two ways about it. There's no refined or dainty way to take care of that chore.
Or, put more concisely, Tim is well aware of the fact that his shit does indeed smell.
That's the majority of why Tim doesn't like having an audience for it. After all, it's not like he and Abby are still in that relationship phase where they're under the impression that the other one doesn't have biological functions. Hell, they're long past the phase of being embarrassed about it, too. Still, there's a difference between debating buying a dog so you can pretend all nasty smells come from it, and wanting to show off exactly how long and loud you can fart.
Not wanting an audience doesn't mean he doesn't like what he gets out of it, though. He likes that just fine. Just some things Abby doesn't need to see him do.
So, even though it's messy, and a bit on the uncomfortable side… Okay, fuck, a lot on the uncomfortable side. In fact, way more on the uncomfortable side than an enema's ever been.
Tim takes a moment to try and figure out what's going on here. He's gotten through step one: get naked, with minimal issues, and had moved to step two: enema, (traditionally followed by step three: wash off thoroughly) and stopped dead because this does not feel the way he expects it to feel. He doesn't think he sustained anything that would be an injury to his anus. He knows they got him in the balls and thighs and, no… he's poking himself gently, and that doesn't hurt, so no way he's got a chipped tailbone, and all the other bruises are cleared up, so even if he got bruised up, they'd be healed by now.
All systems have been functioning normally since he started eating again. If it was an injury, out should have been just as uncomfortable as in…
So, what the hell is going on? He's on medication that relaxes muscles. This should be easier than it's ever been, not harder. First time he did this, when he didn't have a clue, this part wasn't this difficult. The little tube bit's smaller than a pencil and lubricated; anyone can take this. Something is really wrong.
He puts everything aside and hunts down one of Abby's compacts. Blush with a mirror will do the job. He checks himself, definitely not injured. Everything looks (as well as he knows, not like he's spent long gazing at his own ass) normal.
He's snapping shut the compact when what the problem is finally decides to go wandering out of his subconscious and hit his functional mind, and why he's been edgy about Jimmy getting too close to his rear is also bugging him.
This… anal sex on the receiving side... was part of the Admiral's torture plans. This was a huge part of the 'fate worse than death' scenario he used to terrify Tim. His body is scared. It doesn't want to get anything anywhere near his anus. It's fighting.
"No." It comes out low and savage. "No!" The Admiral does not get to touch this. He's stolen weeks of Tim's life, the use of his arm and his leg, weeks of his job, the ability to pick up his little girl and make love to his wife however he likes. His bloody fingerprints are all over Tim's life and body. Not this, too. This he doesn't get to touch.
Tim grabs the enema, bears down hard, gives it a shove, and takes care of business.
And yes, it burns, and hurts, but he's not going to let The Admiral win. Not on this.
Abby knows something is wrong by about two seconds after she's walked into the room.
Tim's naked and in bed. That's a good sign. He's not looking happy. Not a good sign. He's also so tense she can see it from the other side of the room.
Obviously something happened between now and dinner, but she's got no clue what it might be. She heads over to their bed, sits next to him, and says, "So… we get bad news?"
"Huh?" He looks surprised, but still tense and angry, so whatever it is isn't coming from the outside world.
"You're so angry and tense I could see it from the doorway."
She nods slowly, and gets up to brush her teeth. After a few seconds, he grabs his crutch and follows her into the bathroom.
"You're just going to let it go?"
"If it's so touchy you're going to lie about it, I'll let it be."
"Thanks." He sighs. He knows better than to try to lie about stuff like this to her. At least she's not pissed about it.
"But I don't want to. And I don't think much of anything else is happening until we talk."
His shoulder slumps and he leans harder into the crutch. "Don't want to talk. Don't want to think about it. Just want to be done."
Abby smiles gently. "I want that, too. But it doesn't work that way."
He licks his lips and is looking at the wall behind her. "Every minute I spend on this is another minute he's stolen from me."
Abby's eyebrow rises and she puts the toothbrush down. "Tim?"
"I'm here fucking with all of this shit, which means I'm not living my life, being me, enjoying my loves and doing the things I meant to be doing. All of this is time he's stolen. I don't get it back. I'm stuck dealing with all this crap instead of moving on."
"You deal with it, and take the time, because otherwise it comes back to bite you later. Neither of us want to be dealing with this when we're in our fifties."
That's true but doesn't help. "That doesn't make it any better! It's still things I want to do, gone. It's my physical body, weeks of my life, my… gone. So, I don't want to talk about it, and I don't want to waste time on this, and…"
Abby knows something hit a red hot nerve on him, and she's starting to get an idea of what, because she knows what he was supposed to be doing, and she remembers what he said about sexuality abuse, and she knows the 'fate worse than death' scenario, and she's not stupid, so she's got a clue, but she doesn't know how to salvage tonight or make this any better without talking about it.
She picks her toothbrush back up, and starts on her teeth again.
"I don't know what that means," he says, unsure what she's doing. He expects some sort of, 'we've got to keep talking' sort of response, but she's not saying anything.
"I don't, either. Just… let's get done, and go to bed, and maybe we'll talk, but not about whatever this is." Not directly, she thinks. She's starting to get a plan together. "Or maybe we won't. But we'll touch and be with each other."
"Okay." He steps closer and kisses her shoulder. She can still feel how tense and defensive he's feeling, but there's also some relief because she's backed off a bit from the main issue.
They head into the bedroom, and she sees he's got the butterfly, the strap on, lube, and the dilators out, as well as towels on the bed. He did get everything set for tonight.
"I want you sitting on the bed."
Tim nods and settles himself on the bed.
Abby heads over to their toy box and takes one other thing out of it, his collar. He can't kneel with his foot in the cast. It still doesn't want to extend that far, and she doesn't want him putting that sort of weight on it, and, of course, he can't clasp his hands behind his back. But he's still hers, and that's not ever changing. Time to remind his body of it.
He bows his head. They don't do this a lot. Not this level of subbing. Usually it's a game. Usually it's her setting the rules for the night and him living up to it or vice versa. But there's another level of it, one she thinks he'll respond well to. The part they usually don't play is opening the sub up, breaking down his walls, taking him out of his head, and making sure that he knows he is utterly owned, completely protected, cherished, and totally safe.
Tonight she's doing that. She fastens the collar around his neck and sees some of the tension bleed off of him. He wants to play tonight, wants to forget, and that collar means playing.
She glances at the dilators and notices the smallest one is missing. "You wearing one?"
"Take it out."
Tim does, shifting around a bit, slipping it out, and holding it. He knows how this game works, and above and beyond anything else, when he subs, he is a very good sub. He hasn't been told what to do with the dilator beyond take it out, so he just holds it.
Abby takes it from him, places it next to the others, and then cups his chin, lifting his face so he's looking her in the eyes. "My fingers, my hands, my body. You're mine, and it'll be me, not some cold piece of glass, that gets you ready."
Tim nods at that, holding her gaze.
Abby kisses him, and then asks, pulling back, "You remember the first time we did this?"
Tim nods as she sits behind him on the bed.
"Tell me about it. Tell me how it felt to you."
Tim thinks for a second. "First time I did it to myself for you to watch, or the first time you did it to me?"
Good point, they do have two first times for this. Abby pets along his back and down his sides, feeling the tension in his hips, thighs, glutes. She knows this isn't going anywhere anytime soon; they've got time for lots of stories. "Both. Start with the first time you showed me."
She's watching in the mirror and sees he's closed his eyes, bringing the memory, the images and sensations to mind. She keeps petting him, hands gentle, stroking over his hips and thighs, stomach and chest. She's not touching his butt. (Yes, he's sitting on most of it, but the top bit would be in easy reach.) It's hitting her that reclaiming him is probably going to be a job with layers. Probably going to happen again and again. Time will shift, things will happen, memories and images will come back, and he'll move back to hurting, back to scared.
And it's his job to pull himself out, because it won't work if anyone else tries. It's her job to help him get himself out. Her job to keep his conscious mind aware of their home and his safety. He's got to run the race, but she can keep cheering and be the reward at the end.
He takes a quick breath and says, "It was a Sunday. After Jimmy and Breena's wedding, before we were out in the open. Long week, two cases back to back, and we got back to my place late on Friday and pretty much slept straight through Saturday."
She strokes his hair, gently rubbing the back of his neck. "You made me French toast."
He nods, remembering that, snorts a little. "Barely ever cooked then. Had the stove too hot and the outside scorched and the inside was still wet."
"Yeah." She kisses his shoulder. Still moving her hands slow and gentle. "Still tasted good."
"Stick enough bacon on it, and everything tastes good." That was his special breakfast treat for himself back then. Usually he'd order it out, and then put it together himself once it showed up. But they were tired, didn't much feel like getting dressed or going out. He had eggs, milk, bread, bacon, and sugar. He figured he could make it himself. "Used to get that when we'd go out for breakfast."
"I remember that. French toast and bacon sandwich. Easier to eat." She'd asked about it the first time she saw him do it, years and years ago, first time they were dating.
He nods. "Flip the sides with the powdered sugar into the insides, pile on the bacon, pour the syrup over top, next piece of toast on top, and eat."
"Tomorrow morning, you tell Elaine about that, and I bet she'll make it for you."
"Yeah, she would." He doesn't mention that he's not sure he wants to eat it. Yes, he wants it. But he's not getting any exercise and piles of carbs, no matter how yummy, isn't a good plan right now. He hasn't had that breakfast in years now. Maybe when he can actually work out again…
"Tim, what happened after breakfast?" Abby gets him back on track. She knows talking about the food is part of getting him settled and comfy, but she doesn't want him stalling here forever.
"Mmmm…" Verbal placeholder, letting her know he's thinking. "TV. Then we got a nap?"
"Yeah. Lazy day." She doesn't say more, just keeps up the gentle petting.
"Woke up with you pressed up tight to me. Liked that, a lot." He squeezes her hand. "Still do. Always will."
Abby kisses the back of his neck, just above his collar.
"I was kissing your neck and shoulder, rubbing against you. You woke up with a smile, rubbing back against me. We still wore pajamas then, and you had on those fleece drawstring pants. I remember the way they felt, soft and fuzzy against my hand when I slid it under them. You arched into my hand, rubbing your butt against my dick."
"Mmmm…" Abby murmurs, remembering that sensation, just waking up, horny Tim wrapped tight around her, finger slipping between her lips.
"You woke up a little more, and then asked if I was thinking of this as snack sex or if this was the main course for the day. Then we got into a conversation about what snack sex was."
She can feel some of the tension sliding away from him, so on the next stroke over his hips, her fingertips graze the side of his butt, and he doesn't seem to notice.
"We decided this was main course sex. And by then you had rolled over and out of those pants, and I wasn't wearing my t-shirt anymore, but I still had my boxers on. Then you sat up, and straddled me, holding my hands to the bed, and you kissed me on the tip of the nose, and I could feel you warm and wet through my boxers, and I could see you had something in mind, wanted to play, so I grinned up at you, and you grinned back, and said to me, 'I know you've got some toys, so let's play with them.'"
Abby can hear the pleasure in his voice at that memory, and she smiles, too.
"How did that feel?" She tugs very gently on his collar, reminding him of the instructions she's given him. They're not just reminiscing. She's taking him back to when this was just about safe and love and playing and pleasure.
"Um…" He's thinking about that. "Good. Liked the idea of playing with the toys. Little nervous, wondering if you'd be cool with what I had. Little unsure, kind of playing with the idea of not showing you all of them. Horny. Thinking that I'd get to tie you up. Then even more turned on, maybe you'd tie me up.
"I got up and grabbed the box, and I remember you looking surprised that I had them there."
"Didn't think you'd have them on your dresser, where Tony might just walk on in and rifle through them. Or Sarah. Didn't notice the special catch on the bottom until you showed me."
"Yep." They don't use that toy box anymore, too small. It just looked like a nice wood box on his dresser. Hinges on the back of the lid, little lock looking thing on the front. Tiny little catch on the underside popped the lid and showed that the hinges and lock were just for show and the top lifted off. "I took it to bed, showed you how to open it, and held my breath while you rifled through. You approved of the ropes, scarves, and the cock ring, giggled at the fleshlight, didn't much like my choice of lube, and then saw the butt plug, picked it up, looked at me and said, 'You like this?' like you'd never even dreamed I might go for that."
"I thought I'd get you there eventually. Didn't think you'd gotten there on your own. How did that feel?"
"Weird. Relieved because you didn't think it was gross. Little apprehensive because your next question was, 'Are you bi?' but you believed me when I said no, and you held it in your hand, sort of weighing it, playing with the base, and then said, 'You've got to show me what you do with this.' And that felt good because you were really cool with it. And again, a little nervous and apprehensive and really turned on."
"Worried about letting me see?"
"Yeah. Never had someone watch me do that before. Never had someone watch me jerk-off period before that. Wanted you to, but I was kind of afraid you'd laugh or freak out or… or whatever."
She's still stroking him, but a firmer touch now, focusing more on his low back and hips, still grazing his butt from time to time.
"I think I said something like, 'Right now?' when you said I had to show you what I did with it. You asked if I had what I needed to use it, which was also good, because that meant you knew how it worked, and that it wasn't the sort of thing you just did with no prep. I think I blushed a little, but said yes, and you said, 'Well, get to it. I'll order some food for dinner. Couple hours from now, we'll be tired and hungry and the magic food fairy will come and bring us sushi.'" She giggles a little at that, not having remembered that part, but it seems in character.
"I was nervous about cleaning up. Wanted to do it fast. Wanted to get really clean. I was way more turned on than I usually was when I did that, so I was playing with myself a bit more than I usually do when I clean up."
"You play with yourself when you do that?" She didn't know that about him.
"Usually. Not always. But if we're having sex right after clean up, yeah." He stops there. "Didn't do it tonight. Need two hands for that."
Abby nods against his shoulder. Probably didn't hit his front brain, but just another reason why his body knew things weren't right.
"Got cleaned up, feeling… really sexy and really nervous."
"I remember how hard you were when you got out of the bathroom, and your skin was already starting to pink up."
"Yeah. I think I just stood there for a few seconds, watching you, and you were watching me, and I finally said, 'So, you just want to watch?' You grinned at me. 'That's where I'm going to start. Might touch later. Right now, I want to see what you do with it.'" Tim laughs quickly, remembering the next bit. "I picked it up and rubbed my shoulder with it, said how good it was for getting the knots out, and you pouted and slapped me in the chest."
Abby laughs at that, too, her hand straying from its soothing mission to see how the story's effecting his dick. Good memories are helping, he's half-hard, and she gives him a few gentle strokes to add to it.
He smiles at her touch, enjoying that. "I grabbed the fleshlight and you looked like I'd given you a bait and switch, and I remember feeling a little sheepish, but saying that I liked some distraction while I got the plug set. You said you'd handle it, looked me dead in the eyes, and licked your lips."
She smiles at that, too.
"Then you said something about how that'd give you a pretty good view, and I think I blushed because I hadn't realized you were going to be watching that closely."
"What did you think I was going to do?"
"I didn't know. Didn't expect you'd have your face four inches away from the action. I just about jumped back into the bathroom to clean up again."
She laughs at little at that. "Didn't realize you were that nervous."
He shrugs again, and she kisses his shoulders, hands on each hip, fingers rippling against the sides of his glutes.
"I'd been planning on kneeling on the bed, because that was how I usually did it, but then all you'd have was a view of was my pubic bone, so I laid down on my side."
She breaks in, shifting back from him. "Want you to do that."
So he does, but he can't lie on his right, the way he did the first time. "Wrong side."
"I remember. But this will work. Touch yourself, slow and easy. Don't want you getting off, yet." She cuddles up close to his back, spooning him, still stroking his hips and thighs. He begins a long, slow stroke, up and down his dick. She sees him doing it, and then stops cuddling him to reach back and grab the lube off the bedside table. He knows what she's doing and holds out his hand to take the drizzle of it and warm it before stroking it over himself. "Good?" she asks as she snugs up again, and goes back to stroking his hips and low back, slowly inching toward his butt.
He nods at that while taking himself back to the memory. "You took the pillows, put them under your head and shoulder, then slid my balls down, so they weren't blocking your view, and began to suck on just the tip of my dick."
"I remember. Feel good?"
"God, yeah. Felt great! I was well and truly distracted."
She smiles. "That wasn't the only thing distracting you."
"No. Your pussy, right in my face. Wet and smelling so good. I started kissing you." He's rubbing the tip of his dick the same way she was sucking him, or as close as he can get with a hand. "Took me a few seconds to remember what we were doing. I got the lube and slicked up my fingers, got started, just shoving it in. Hadn't really figured out the 'in' part of it yet. I liked how it felt once it was in place, but tended to see getting it there as something to just get through. Got the finger in, and just waited to sort of relax around it, until it stopped hurting."
"You were rushing."
"Yeah, too excited to go slow. Granted, never really bothered much with slow at that point. And like I said, I was really distracted."
"How'd it feel?"
"Hurt. It always hurt back then. Okay, not always, sometimes it was just sort of there, but getting ready wasn't the good part. Not until after our honeymoon was getting ready the good part."
She smiles at that. If they take this slow enough, they'll get there, too. She hadn't figured out until after she was the one on the catching side of anal what level of ouch Tim might have been going through to get to his prostate. Because she knew how careful he was with her, and she knew how that felt, and she knew how careful they were with him, and she could guess how that felt. And, until she was on the receiving side, he hadn't bothered to do the research to see if there was a way to do it that was more comfortable. He was willing to take that level of pain for that level of good orgasm. He wasn't willing to put her through it.
Once she had a better idea of how that worked, she started taking more care with him, and by their honeymoon she had a plan that really worked, that had him all but begging through the getting ready part. By the time he finally got talking about The Admiral, and, as she thinks of it, 'stopped guarding the area so intensely,' things got a whole lot easier, and it stopped taking so much slow and gentle prep to get him ready.
They're back to square two. At least they know what to do. She kisses his neck. "It's all supposed to be good."
He lets go of himself and squeezes the hand that's rubbing his hip, digging into tight muscles, trying to relax him. "It is."
"What happened next?"
"Sliding it in and out some, trying to stretch muscles that were pretty firmly convinced that closed tight was the right idea. Stuck between sore, burn, feeling like I was going to come any second, kind of embarrassed to have you watching me that close, kind of thrilled to have you watching me that close, never been that naked before, and you kept making those little happy noises each time I'd move, and the idea that this was turning you on, 'cause I could taste and feel how wet you were, all of it was blowing my mind.
"Pain helped with control. Toned down the need to come. Usually did two fingers to stretch but I didn't think I'd last that long. I grabbed for the plug way too soon, and decided if I just went really slow it'd be okay, and… It was, sort of. Hurt, more than I was expecting, but it did walk me back from the edge, and you moaned as I slid it in, easing your mouth all the way down my dick the same speed I was slipping it in and my brain melted.
"Once it's in, it's all good. The handle is small, no problem, and then there's just that sensation of fullness, and how it'd rub against my prostate and… fuck. You pulled your mouth off, and I wasn't on board with that plan, and then you rolled away, and I think I pouted at that, but you just sat there on your knees, looking at me, and said, 'So…'"
Abby begins to really stroke his butt, touching all of it, with her whole hand, palm cupping, squeezing gently, working tight muscles. It's sensual, but not sexual; she's staying away from the cleft and focusing on tense muscles.
"And, of course, I'd never played with it with another person around, so, no idea what all it could really do with a partner. I think I blushed a little, but I headed over to my arm chair and straddled the arm, and you looked surprised at that."
"I was. Didn't think that's what you'd do with it."
"It worked. You were wondering why I'd done that, so I told you how if I straddled the arm, I could rock back and forth a bit, and that kept the plug pulsing over my prostate and left both hands free for whatever else I might want to do."
"And I asked what else you usually did with them."
"And I looked at the remote for my tv and the Fleshlight and you decided that you might want to see what I did with it, but that'd be kind of boring." Using his hands is a lot more visually interesting than the Fleshlight. The Fleshlight feels better, more real, warm it up, put on a condom, and close his eyes, and by feel alone, Tim can't tell the difference between it and a real woman. (Without a condom, it'sdistinctly different. Which is why he usually used a condom with it. After all, at that point he'd never had sex without one, and it made clean up a hell of a lot easier, so, why not?)
"Did that bother you?"
"Uh… no!" Even lying on his side, he can see her in the mirrors, and he flashes her his are you kidding me look. "Have sex with you? Have sex with whatever the hell that's made of? You win. Made me really happy when you grabbed a condom, put it on me, and then wrapped your legs around my hips and slid onto me. For a few seconds, I was a little afraid the chair was going to topple over, but it didn't, and it turned out that rocking back and forth was good, thrusting was better—"
"How? What was different about it? How did it feel?"
He swallows and thinks, trying to translate those sensations into words, trying to sort them out. "Okay, you clench your ass and it presses really nicely. Some guys can get off from just that, I'm not one of them. Rocking back and forth, that's better. It's got that handle so it doesn't get lost inside you, and that's not just so it's easy to get a hold of with lubed hands. The curved bit can get your prostate from the outside, pressure on the perineum, and of course, the plug gets it from the inside. So, if I was rocking back and forth, when I'd rock forward the plug would move back and the handle would press from the outside, rock back and the handle backs off the plug presses from the inside. And… it feels like cumming. Each press feels like the pulsing part of getting off. That and a Fleshlight is really nice. That and you, rocking back and forth… and to thrust I've got to tense back and hips and butt which shifts everything around even more, and that's amazing. More tension, more build, more sensation… I came so hard I thought I was going to pass out."
"Came hard enough I could feel it even with you wearing a condom. Don't think that ever happened again."
"Didn't use condoms all that much longer. But, yeah, play with the prostate, produce more fluid, and I end up giving myself a facial, and you giggle about it."
Abby does giggle about that, and it segues nicely into the next bit. "Tell me about the first time I did it to you." She adds some lube to her own hand, and begins to stroke it over the cleft of his ass, not between yet, just getting the edges. She feels him tense a little, and then force it down, breathe deep, and make himself relax.
She hates that moment of tension, that second where his body's not happy, and retreats back to his buttocks. She's not rushing this, at all. He's her man, and he's here in their home, their bed, and if she's got to spend all night and tomorrow night and the next and as long as it takes to convince his body of that, she'll do it.
She bites gently on his collar, pulling it tight for a second, and letting go. "First time I did you."
He smiles at her, presses back against her, and does wiggle his ass against her, which she appreciates. "First time you nailed my ass."
She kisses his ear, sucking the lobe, and pulling off with a soft pop. "When I popped your cherry."
"Does it count as cherry-popping when I'd already done it myself?"
"You got yourself off, what, a million times before you had sex?"
"In just the month before alone."
She laughs at that, too. "Yeah, you've got to do it with someone else for it to count."
"It was the next weekend or the one after. Before Christmas, I know that because we still weren't out yet, and after Tony caught us, I told us he'd wet his pants if he ever walked in on us when we really got going, and the image I had in my head when I said that was you doing me."
She licks his neck, stroking both hands, now very slick, over his hips and glutes, long, deep slide. He moans at that, and she jerks back afraid she's pressed too hard on a sore spot or nicked a broken rib, but he pushes back, letting her know that it feels good, not that she was doing it too hard. She repeats the stroke and says, "Bent over on my bed, that gorgeous ass of yours in the air, hands tied in front of you to the headboard, whimpering as I thrust."
"Exactly." His eyes close, and she knows he's feeling it again, and his ass does press back against her again, and she goes back to kneading it. "Night time. We're tired, another long week. We're having a very late dinner, and you said not much was going to be happening that night, but in the morning you had some surprises for me. I asked what they were, and you told me they wouldn't be surprises if you told, and not to even try peeking because you'd know if I looked ahead of time."
"And did you peek?"
"Thought you said you'd know," his voice is sassy as he says that.
"I may have been bluffing," she says, nipping his shoulder.
"No. I couldn't find them while you brushed your teeth and was too tired to really look."
She smirks at that. "What were they?"
He stops jerking himself to touch the collar. "This is one of them. The other was the strap-on. We hadn't been through your toys at that point. Did you already have it, or did you get it for me?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"Yeah." She can feel that's real. He's comfortable enough right now, in her and her devotion to him that her past, unlike his own, isn't going to intrude unwelcomely here.
"It pre-dates you."
"Use it on another guy?"
"Nope. Always hoped to, never found anyone else who was game. Most guys act like you've mortally insulted them if you even suggest it."
Tim smiles at that. He's spent more than enough time hearing other guys going on and on about trying to get their wives/girlfriends to let them have anal sex, but they're never talking about being on the receiving end of it. Then he's feeling really turned on, because if she never used the strap-on with another guy, that means it got used with girls and he's all over that. He moans quietly at that image.
"You like that, do you?"
"Yeah. A lot."
She kisses his shoulder. "Be good and maybe one day I'll let you watch me do Breena with it."
He moans at that idea. And she gently nips his shoulder reminding him what "good" means for right now.
"Late morning. We'd slept in, eaten something, and I was being a little bit bratty because I didn't want to wait to see what you'd gotten me, but you said we had to eat first, and you used that voice that let me know you were in charge, so I got into it as a game and let you Domme me through breakfast. You kept grinning at that, really enjoying it." They'd played like that before, but not a whole lot. Probably the second time she'd run the game, and he'd done it once. "Then we finished and you took me back to bed, told me to kneel on it, bow my head, and close my eyes, and I did, feeling very excited wondering what the surprise was going to be. I heard you opening drawers, and the sound of clothing rustling. That apartment had hardwood floors, and I remember the sound of two long zippers zipping, then boots on wood, more rustling, the sound of leather moving through buckles, and then you said look up, so I did, and you were standing in front of me in knee high boots, the strap on, black gloves, a black collar, and holding another collar in your hand, offering it to me. You didn't say anything, because that wasn't part of the game, that was outside the game, setting play but not part of it, and I remember my mouth went dry because that was almost too much at once, and I stood up, and took the collar from you, kissed you, and then gave it back and bowed my head."
"I buckled it on you, and told you I loved you, and that I wanted to make you feel so good if you'd let me."
"I remember." He sighs and shivers a bit. "I remember how that felt, too. So good. Home. Felt like home's supposed to feel. Then you patted me on the butt, told me to get cleaned up and be out on the bed in ten minutes."
"Spent all night waiting and dreaming, I was getting impatient."
"I know. I think I was done in seven, and then stood there waiting by the bathroom door for the final three so I'd hit the bed at exactly ten minutes."
"You always are good about that."
"I try to be." He thinks for a moment. "You asked me what my safeword was, which made all my blood go rushing to my dick and made me worry a little, too. Really turned on, little nervous. We'd already set the hard rules, no pain, no humiliation, but never played hard enough to have safewords, and I was a little worried about where you were going to go."
"Really excited by it, too, right?"
"Yeah. Like creeping up to the top of the rollercoaster. Or, I guess that's how it feels to people who like rollercoasters." Tim doesn't. "I know we messed around some, but I don't really remember it. Just remember the anticipation. My next clear memory is you telling me to get on the bed, kneel, and then tying my hands to the headboard."
"I asked how you wanted it. You picked elbows and knees."
Tim shrugs. He certainly may have, but he doesn't remember that part. He does remember, very clearly, what came next. "On all fours, knees and elbows, Ass in the air, legs wide, hands tied to each other and the base of the headboard over my head, never, ever been that naked or open or vulnerable. Felt crazy, so turned on, so nervous, almost safeworded because I could see in my mind what I looked like from your point of view and that was kind of uncomfortable." Tim has always thought he's got a fairly nice butt, and Ziva's four out of five (even if he did probably get a point just to annoy Tony) helped to boost his ego on that, still, there's fills out a pair of pants nicely, which is one thing, and naked, spread wide, everything on display, and wondering exactly how fuzzy you really are back there and if your asshole looks as dumb as you think it does, which is something else all-together.
"Delicious. You looked delicious from my point of view. I was so wet the harness was soaked, and my mouth had gone dry, and you were all spread out for me, tied down, opening yourself to anything I might want to do, and that felt amazing."
He nods. "Liked that. Being able to relax into it. I felt the shift in my mind, you were walking around the bed, looking, and I was getting more tense about it, and then I just… surrendered, that moment where I knew I was out of control and that it wasn't up to me anymore and nervous bled off because you were running things and you'd take care of me. I relaxed my head, resting it on my forearms, and felt the mattress shift as you got up behind me, and your fingers trailed up my leg. You were still wearing the gloves, and I remember the feel of silk over your fingers slowly dragging up my calf."
She can't reach his calf from where she is, but she can trail her hand up the back of his thigh, and she does.
"You kissed the back of my knee, which I wasn't expecting."
"What were you expecting?"
"I don't remember. Just the sensation of anticipation and the feeling of, 'Oh, that's nice.'"
"Yeah. It was a nice kiss, but I've got places that rev me up a lot more than the backs of my knees."
Her hand snakes to the front of him and she gives his dick a long, gentle pull. "Like that."
"Oh, yeah." He swallows as her hand goes back to his butt, still kneading his glutes. Speaking of nice… He can feel his hips starting to relax, feel himself shifting into sub mode, letting her take over, putting himself into her hands. "You kissed up the back of my leg, biting a little, and then patted the inside of my knee, letting me know to spread my legs wider, God, I was so hard then, shifting stance, expecting to feel your hands or the dildo or lube, but you didn't do that, you sucked my balls, each one, and I shuddered all over because that feels amazing, and then you licked from the back of them to my tailbone, and I think I just about jumped off the bed I jerked so hard at that, because I really didn't expect it and it was one of those things I'd read about but didn't know anyone ever did."
"You made this really adorable startled sound, and then on the second lick started to groan."
"It felt amazing. It's just… God. Hot and wet and squirmy, but in a really good way, and everything there is so sensitive, and fuck, that position, so open, so on display, the whole thing was just so damn taboo, just… wicked. Dark and dirty and wrong and it felt…" He shakes his head. "No words. Felt… Felt like all those fantasies you're ashamed of all coming true at once with someone who loves them, too."
She stops stroking his butt and hugs him as tight as she can without hurting him. Then she shifts up, reaches over, and kisses him on the lips. They smile at each other for a heartbeat, and she goes back to lying behind him. This time she starts to rub gently over the cleft of his butt, and he doesn't flinch or tense. She stays with a gentle up and down, just touching all of him, stroking between his glutes, very light pressure.
He makes a pleased sound and wriggles in a happy sort of way.
"Good, Tim, good," she coos at him. "Keep relaxing into me, baby."
He purrs a little.
"I didn't just lick you that night, did I?"
"No. Though I would have thought I died and went to heaven if that's all you had done."
"What happened next?"
"God, I was rocking into you, and you were tonguing me all over, and eventually you pulled back, and I whimpered and pouted—"
"Cursed like a pissed off sailor."
Tim raises an eyebrow at that. He doesn't remember it that way. Abby grins at him in the mirror. "'Goddamn it to hell woman, get back there and fuck me with your tongue!'"
Tim laughs. "I said that?"
"Yeah. And I gave you a quick slap on the ass and told you to hush up."
He nods. "That I remember. You came around so I could see you, slowly took the gloves off, and I felt like I was going to die, in a bad way. I was so hard and so turned on and you were messing with your gloves and I did not want to sit there and watch you mess with gloves."
"You were cursing at that, too. Growled a little." She strokes his hair. "But you were good and held position and waited for me."
"I really don't remember that at all. I remember you finally got the gloves off, and reached for the lube, drizzling a lot of it into your palm. And then you were pumping that cock, slipping it through your fist over and over and I almost died, in a good way, watching that, never thought something like that might get to me, but it did. I could feel my pulse in my eyes and ears and dick and felt like I had three extra guys' worth of blood pumping around in me, watching you jerk that cock.
"You tilted my face up, licked your lips, blew me a kiss, and then headed back to my ass, and I was kneeling there, bowstring tight, waiting to feel you touch, not sure what you'd do, and then it was your whole, slick hand sliding over me, rubbing everywhere, stroking my ass and my perineum and balls and dick and if I could have figured out how to thrust my cock and ass at you at the same time I would have.
"Then I felt the mattress shift, and you were kneeling between my legs, sliding the cock between my butt cheeks, over and over." Her fingers start to mimic that motion, slipping over and over, up and down between his cheeks; this time deep enough to touch his asshole and perineum and the back of his balls. Tim's voice stutters at that touch, but he doesn't tense, so she doesn't stop. "It was cool," short, sharp inhale as she nudges his leg so he rests it on her hip, spreading himself a bit, "smooth, slick, uh" another slightly panted exhale as her fingers start to circle his anus, slipping a little further down to press his perineum every few circles, "good. It felt really good. I was rocking against you, wanted more, wanted you fucking me. You were circling my anus with it, just pressing a bit, not in, but on, and then you angled down a little, so it was rubbing my perineum and nudging the back of my balls, and you slipped one finger in." He pauses, waiting for a breath, wondering if she's going to do it in real life, but she doesn't, just keeps up firm, slick circles with the pads of her fingers. "Burned, less than usual, but the burn and stretch was still there, and you were rubbing me all over, your other hand, and it was wet and slick, stroking my cock, dildo rubbing me. I have no idea what I was doing. Just feeling it, all over. So good and so much pleasure, and more burn and stretch and some sort of twisting, and everything was so slick, fingers, ass, cock, everything slippery and sliding against more slippery. Dull ache, wanted to cum, you weren't quite getting it, but my cock was so hard. Frustrated, almost there but not there. Could see there, couldn't touch it, trying to shift my hips to get you there. Wasn't helping. More burn, too much, long slide, realized that was the dick, felt like it was a yard wide and a mile long, went on forever, but then you hit my prostate on the way in, and I almost lost it. So keyed up and turned on I didn't care how much it hurt as long as you got it again. Rocking back and forth on my hands and knees, fast, dick in your hand, feeling it slide through your fist each time I moved, burning, but every time I slide forward you bump over it, that first few inches of sliding back out gets it again. Trying to get a shallow rhythm, keep you in the right spot, takes a few strokes before you get it, but you do, and then there's just white hot pleasure and burn and full and so, so full, dick leaking, so hard, balls tight and full and falling into a climax that burns and pulses and rips through me. Sky high, purring, twitching, wondering why my face was wet, you cuddling me, giggling when I asked. Thought I might have been crying toward the end, got off so hard. Not being able to stop twitching. Endorphins crashed and you pulled out slow, but it still really hurt, for like, a day, but so worth it. Knew I'd do that again as often as you were willing."
Abby can tell he's slipped full into subspace. He's relaxed, right with her, here, and everything else is gone. She's just starting to edge the tip of her index finger into him, and he's soft and happy in her arms. She wishes she had had a better idea of how that felt to him when she was doing it the first time, but she knows now, and it's different now.
"Tell me about our honeymoon."
"So soft and relaxed. I felt loose and calm all over." Two-hour long four-handed massage will do that. She's thinking that as soon as he's all healed up, they're doing that again. "We were in the hotel with the four post bed, and you wanted me all loose and bendy so you could tie me up and fuck me blind."
"And I did, didn't?"
"God, yes. New tattoos so you couldn't tie my wrist, told me I had to keep my hand on the headboard. You had me laying across the bed, and tied my ankle up high on the post, few pillows under my hip, so my ass was right at your waist level. You went really slow."
"Like I am now?" She's just about one knuckle deep and is very gently twisting her finger around, wiggling it a little, with short, little in out motions.
"Yeah. Blowing or tea-bagging me while you did it. And you were wearing that corset and your breasts were trying to spill out of it, every few strokes you'd sit up some and rub them over my cock. Love the way that looks. Mouth feels better, but boobs looks amazing."
She smiles and kisses him, easing her finger a bit deeper in. He moans at it.
"So slow. No burn. Little stretch, but not bad. Like holding a pose a bit deeper than is easy. Better lube, really slick, very slippery, no drag." One of the downsides of doing this with a dildo is that what feels really slick from the doing side doesn't necessarily feel as slick from the receiving side. They figured that out the first time they used the lube he got for anal with her on him. It made a huge difference. Basically the water-based stuff got a bit tacky around the same time that Tim was so turned on he couldn't feel the difference anymore. "Took forever doing it. Then you were lubing the dildo up, making sure I was watching, lubing your hands too, and lined up and slide in slow and shallow while fisting the top two inches of my cock."
One finger all the way in, and she spends a few strokes gently rubbing over his prostate, soft, wide circles. A half-whimpered moan slips out of Tim. "That's it baby. Gonna make you feel so good. Love on you all over."
He's quiet, rocking gently against her, lightly, just the tips of his fingers, stroking over his dick. She knows that move, she hasn't told him to stop touching himself, but if he does it any faster or harder, he'll ramp up too fast and get off before she's told him to.
"What did I do next?" She slowly begins working the second finger in, steady, gentle pressure, letting his body open and take it.
His hips are starting to roll against her, encouraging her to get back to playing with his prostate.
"My ankle was tied high. You weren't sure I could keep my leg up that high that long on my own. You stepped close, all the way in, grinding your pelvis against my balls, making the dildo circle. Used a shorter one that night, getting me just right over and over." Tim's not a woman, so as Abby got better at figuring out how to do him, she realized that a dildo for him didn't need to be long or thick. His prostate's slightly smaller than a walnut and only two inches in, and while she can get close, he's still got legs and butt cheeks so there'll be some bits of the dildo outside of him, but still, anything much longer than five inches is just wasted length. She's not doing him any good with a mile long dick. So, after she got more experience with him, she downsized, shorter, less girth. The results have been good.
She's gotten the second finger in, and rubs over his prostate with both of them. He's biting his lip, and his eyes have dropped into that three-quarters closed droop they slip into when they want to shut but they don't want to stop watching.
"You started to thrust, up and in. Getting your knees into it."
She keeps pressing his prostate as he's talking.
"Wouldn't let me touch myself. So hard, and so desperate, and you wouldn't let me come. Cockring. You got that slipped over me. Felt like my dick was the size of a baseball bat, so full. Precum dripping off it. Little puddle on my tummy, and you kept nailing me, over and over, up and in and each stroke another little drip easing down my dick."
She sucks his earlobe, breath warm and moist on his neck, fingers twisting and stroking him. "You loved it, didn't you?"
"Oh, God, fuckyes!"
She slips the pads of both fingers over his prostate, up and down. "You love this, too, don't you?"
He thrusts back against her. "Yes!"
"Please!" All moan on that word.
Abby starts working her third finger in. "Keep telling me what I did next."
"Uh." He's biting his lip, and she can see what the issue is. He's just barely touching his dick, because she told him to touch himself, but he can't keep doing it and not get off.
"Okay, we're going to shift around some. You stay put for right now, okay?"
He nods, and whimpers a little when her fingers slip out of him. Then she moves so she's standing in front of him, first slipping the butterfly on, and his eyes devour the sight of her making sure it's properly in place, nestled between her lips and right over her clit. Next comes the strap-on. Little short, not very thick, dark purple and sparkly, it doesn't look much like a dick at all, but it does exactly what it's supposed to, and it does it very well. Abby props the pillows up on the side of the bed, then she shifts the supplies over to Tim's night table. She sits up, so she's back against the headboard and pillows, spreads her legs a bit, and then pats her lap. "Straddle my lap. I'm close enough to the side your foot can be off the bed so it doesn't have to flex too far."
Tim scampers into place, and is about to lower himself onto the dildo when Abby shakes her head.
She touches her thighs. "Here. You rest right here. Not ready for this," she strokes the dildo, "yet." She hands him the remote on the butterfly. "You get to play, too."
He grins at that, staying steady on her lap, snugging up to her as close as he can. She's not touching his dick, but it's right next to the dildo, rubbing against it when he shifts. Her arms wrap around him, one on his waist below his arm, mostly just hugging, the other one snakes around his left glute to get back to what she was doing. She starts again with one finger, and then quickly two, she takes a moment easing into three, because they hadn't been there long, but he's rocking on her lap, bent over enough for them to kiss easily.
"Talk to me, Tim. Feel good? Arm and foot are okay?"
"Back okay?" Two of the broken ribs are on his back, and he's a little hunched to get his lips to hers without his arm flush against her.
"I'm good, really good." He turns on the butterfly, and Abby closes her eyes briefly as the gentle buzz of level one caresses her. "You good?"
"Yeah. Keep talking. What'd I do next?" She's reaching for the lube.
"Scooted me back some. 'Bout a foot. Far enough you could get on the bed, too."
Abby nods, dribbling the lube down her dildo. "Get it all slick, okay?"
"Oh yeah." He swallows hard while he strokes the lube all over the plastic dick. "You got on the bed, between my legs."
She rocks all three fingers in him, making sure to get his prostate firmly, and watches as a drop of precum meanders down his dick. "So pretty, Tim, you all pink and hard and wet for me. You were all wet and hard on our honeymoon, too."
"Yeah." He pants it, rocking back on her hand, moaning as another drop slips out of him.
"And then what? What did I do once I was on the bed?" Her hand on his hip lets him know to shift up, and she pulls her fingers out, getting the dildo in place.
Tim hovers, waiting for permission to slide down. Abby waits, and then he knows what he has to do to get it. "You were between my legs," he's talking fast, rushing between words, "and took the cock ring off, and you were on top of me, kissing and thrusting," she tugs on his hips letting him know he can slip down, and he does, groaning, eyes almost closed, head back. Abby rolls her hips slightly, and pulls him lip to lip on her for a long deep kiss.
She breaks the kiss for a second, saying, "Ride me however you like. Don't hold back unless you want to," then her lips are back on his, kissing him deep, one hand stroking his face, the other on his hip.
He hasn't done a lot of this sort of up down motion lately, but his body still knows how it likes it, and it doesn't take him long to get back to it. He's rocking on her, not breaking their kiss, left arm stroking her face and hair. On each stroke, his dick rubs against her stomach, and he knows he's not going to last long if he keeps moving, and right now he wants to stay here, in this moment.
He stops rocking, nudging the speed on the butterfly up (he can feel a very slight vibration from the inside, and his balls are buzzing). Abby's kissing him, harder and deeper. She's close, too. Can't spend an hour listening to that, doing that, and not get turned on by it, add that delicious buzz in exactly the right place, and she knows she's good to go for this.
Tim can feel her rocking against the butterfly. "Faster?" he asks between kisses, still not moving on her.
He kicks the speed up again, kissing her deep. "This," he says, breaking the kiss for a second, then raising and lowering on her, making sure to rock the dildo in exactly the right spot, feeling that cumming pulse as the pressure slips over his prostate. "Our honeymoon. We did this. Kissing. You on me, in me." He lets himself slide down her, dick trailing over her stomach. "Face to face." Another kiss, wet, deep, sloppy. He's breathing hard, each time he shifts, his dick rubs against her, and he's so sensitive right now; it won't take much.
Her eyes are staring into his, and her face is flushed, beautiful pink slipping down her throat to her breasts. Very close now. He nudges the speed up one more notch, full force, and starts to ride her, fast, shallows thrusts, getting his prostate over and over as his dick rubs against her belly and his lips and tongue strokes hers.
He doesn't feel her first shudder, but he sees it in her face, that exultant look of climax, and he does feel her crushing against him, lips and tongue hard, hand clenched in his hair as he slams down onto her once more, pulling up fast, rubbing into her as hard as he can and then feeling his whole body spasm as his vision goes white and he tingles all over from his climax.
He feels completely drained and limp when he comes back to himself. His lips are pressed to her forehead, his chest and tummy is wet and so are hers, and he's got to be getting heavy on her lap, so he gently pulls off and rolls onto his back next to her, flicking off the butterfly, hoping it wasn't on too long, too fast.
Abby's feeling very pleased with herself as she grabs for the tissues. He's lying on his back, blissed out, relaxed. She takes a moment, getting out of her gear, cleans them both up, and then snuggles in against his left side, kissing the top of his shoulder. She tugs very lightly on his collar. "Mine."
He nods, eyes closed, drifting toward sleep. "Yours, always yours."