Tellings of the Time: Complete series

17. 17

I’ve opened my mouth several times without sound leaving it in my regular monthly therapy session. Robin is patiently looking at me over her half moon glasses and is waiting for me to start talking. She’ll carelessly observe me for the whole hour if I don’t muster up the courage to speak up. We’ve been there before. The worst times are when she actually scribbles something down on her notepad but I’m still not speaking. She won’t let me see if she’s making a grocery list or is actually writing stuff down about me.

I open my mouth again, only this time sound does come out. Just, well, maybe not exactly the right sound. ”So, how are you doing?”

“I’m doing fine,” she says in a mocking tone, “I’m making money without even giving therapy.”

Wow, talk about being passive-aggressive. I take a deep breath, gather all my courage and then speak.

“I found out Chester is not totally gay, he’s in love with me and I might not be totally opposed to that idea and well, I think I’m dating this other guy too? Chester’s ex. And I feel like a slutty whiskey drinking faun.”

Robin does something I haven’t ever seen her do in all the years I’ve been her patient. She perks up, and puts her notepad down.

“Skip the slutty whiskey drinking faun part, tell me more about all the other parts.”

So I spent the next twenty minutes telling her everything, ending with a ‘but he’s kind of cute though, now isn’t he?’.

“I will not be responding to that last statement, because I’ve got some professional standards left. Aside from that, wow, I want to give both of you a slow clap.”

I scowl at her.

“Like a reaaaal slow clap. What’s it been… fifteen years since you met each other?”

“Sixteen,” I correct her. “You’re supposed to give me advice you know.”

“I’m not burning myself on this one. No way,” she says as she picks up her notepad again. And then she stays quiet.

“What, no advice besides the slow clap?” I ask her.

“No, you have all the tools you need to work through this yourself. This isn’t therapy material.”

“Then why did you let me spend the last twenty minutes talking about it? What happened to you making money without giving therapy?”

“I’ve known you forever Abby, believe it or not, I’m invested in your life and I just wanted to hear.”

I chuckle. “Yet when I ask you how you’re doing you deflect.”

She shrugs. “There’s no rule against hypocrisy in the therapist’s manual.”

I let out a huge sigh, guess I’m figuring out this boy mess on my own then. Robin’s eyes soften when she seeks mine out. “You’re doing fine, Abigail. Is there anything else you’d like to talk about today?”

I take another deep breath. “I’m missing my parents like crazy at the moment, and it’s making me sad.”

She just nods her head and I look at her questioningly.

“That’s all I’m getting? You’re so getting overpaid this hour. I’m doing all the work on my own.”

“Well, welcome to the world of the living, where we have emotions and go through the motions and you’re allowed to miss your deceased parents.”

“Killed parents.”

“Deceased,” she insists before she elaborates. “Words matter. Words hold power. Yes, they were killed, but the part of you that misses them isn’t sad because they’re killed, it’s sad because they’re no longer in your life. The way they went out of your life doesn’t matter. Missing deals with sadness. They’re deceased, that’s making you sad. Would you tell me you’re mad? Then we can talk about killing. Which also is, in fact, just a layer on top of your sadness. Anger is easier, it’s more physical. Anger needs to get out of your body. Scream, run, punch, whatever. It needs to get out. Sadness? It’s beneath your anger, and while it sucks to be sad, you’re going to have to let it be. Find a way to embrace it. Once you do that, it’s not so scary. It just is.”

She finally scribbles something down on her pad. Her words make sense, yet it feels like an enormous task.

“What did you just write down?” I ask, knowing perfectly well that she won’t me. She never does. But this time her face lights up, as she turns her notepad and shows me, surprising the fuck out of me. There, in three big circles stands one word.

Progress.

I’m sitting with my feet up on the dashboard, hugging my knees. I feel kind of drained after that session. Chester is driving, and he’s becoming quite adequate in it. We just left the building where Robin and Ryan’s office is located, and he’s in a good mood.

“Good conversation?”

“Best therapy session I ever had,” he answers with a smirk that lets me know he’s up to no good at all.

“Why?”

“Managed to make Ryan shut up. Got him speechless. It’s like I’ve defeated the end boss of all end bosses.”

I laugh. “How’d you manage that?”

“I told him I took his advice and that we talked.”

Side-eyeing him, I watch him signal before he takes the next corner, looking in all the mirrors he should look in before taking a corner. He really has this driving thing down. Which is annoying, because he picked it up in no time and it actually means I’ve been driving him around for years for absolutely no good reason.

We usually don’t talk about what happened during therapy, but it feels like everything is changing. I’m steadily seeing someone, Chester is driving, he isn’t just gay, and I’m feeling every fucking emotion there is in the emotion thesaurus instead of pushing everything down. Oh, and instead of looking for missing children we’re now dealing with a serial killer too. See, the world is upside down.

“What did he have to say about that?”

Chester grins. “Absolutely nothing at first. I think some errors going were off in his head. Then he said it was a good thing you took some time to think about it. When I pointed out that I’m a certified genius and can do smart things, he laughed out loud and said that most of the times I act really dumb for a genius, but this time he was proud of me.”

Ryan being proud of Chester is big. They have this kind of shouting therapy that works for them, but Ryan telling him he’s proud and Chester actually accepting the compliment is huge. It’s a good look on him, being this relaxed. Now that he’s not scowling or deep in thought, he’s got a gorgeous rock band look on him, and the next breath I take makes a tingling sensation spread through my body. Fuck, am I checking Chester out?

Raindrops start falling on the windows, and the window wipers start out easy, but go nuts in about a minute. It’s pouring down and it is hard to see the roads.

“How’d your session go?” Chester asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Does he want to know if I talked about… us? Is there an us? There’s something going on between us, which would imply there indeed is an us. But is that enough for it to count as there being an us? Thinking about it makes my head hurt.

“I told Robin about… us,” there, I said it, ”and then she proceeded to say absolutely nothing about it.”

The crease between his eyes that’s always there when he’s worried reappears. “Why?”

“Because she said I already know everything I need to deal with this.”

We drive up to the house and Chester parks my car somewhere in the vicinity of the house. It’s raining so hard that I can’t even see the house. And it’s a fucking castle, not something you easily miss. He hasn’t responded to my admission that I told Robin about this, instead he suddenly seems to be extremely busy tying his hair up in a messy ponytail in the back of his neck. His hair isn’t long enough for it to actually count as a ponytail I guess, there’s this small stub of hair sticking out and the short strands on the front of his head still fall in his face. When I realize I’ve been staring at him for too long, I try to turn my head away, but I fail.

“Should we stay in the car until the rain dies down a little?” Chester asks me while looking out of the window.

“Sure,” I say, not entirely knowing if I want to stay because of the rain or the little bubble we’ve created. Chester grabs his phone and starts playing one of his playlists. If he’s going to kill my eardrums with some of his headache-inducing noise songs, I’ll jump out of the car and rather face the rain. Instead Home from the Foo Fighters comes on and I let my head fall against the headrest, diverting my eyes to the ceiling.

I hear Chester put down his phone, and then I feel his hand on my leg, just a little above my knee. It startles me so much I blankly stare at his hand. It’s not like we never touch or anything. We hug, we touch, we soothe each other. But this is different. Everything is different. And I just let it be, even if my heart is pounding like a maniac and my brain is going haywire.

He strokes his thumb up and down, as the rest of his fingers press in my leg. We very purposefully don’t look at each other and sit in a silence that isn’t a silence because of the music and the sound of raindrops falling on the car.

When the door to the driver”s side suddenly opens, I almost grab the gun that I have stashed in the glove compartment, reacting like there”s an imminent threat.

“Scoot over!” Remy says, who’s holding his jacket as a windshield over his head even though he’s soaked through.

“What the fuck?” Chester yells, as he scoots to the middle of the bench of my SUV and makes room for Remy to climb in.

“Sorry, I figured Abby was driving,” the gorgeous dancer says as drops glide down over his face. “If I’d known you were driving I would’ve opened the other door.”

“I have no problem with you sitting next to me, dickweed. I’ve been a lot closer to you than this. But why the fuck are you here?”

He sits down in the driver”s seat, making himself comfortable while trying to get his jacket back in place. “Came over to surprise Abby, sat in my car waiting for you.”

I haven’t even seen his car. Can’t see it for the life of me right now to be honest. It’s just raining that hard. The corner of my mouth pulls up. He came over to surprise me, and I love it. Good to know that there’s surprises that I don’t hate. Catching Remy’s bright blue eyes looking at me, I give him what I think is a fifteen year old’s googly eyes. God, I’ve got it bad.

Chester resumes the stroking of his thumb on my leg, and Remy sees it. One of his eyebrows pulls up, and I shrug. We’ve got a whole conversation going without saying a word. That’s impressive, right?

“Were you going to wait out the rain?” Remy asks.

“Yep,” Chester says. He’s deliberately sitting wide legged, touching both mine and Remy’s legs. Is he making sure he’s taking up his space, or is he suddenly a little touch depraved?

“Or we could run through it and then warm up in the shower?” he suggests as he gives me a heated look.

“We could do that,” I answer maybe a little too quickly. Who cares about rain anyway, it’s just a little water, right?

Chester just sighs. Oh crap, did I just not so gracefully dismiss Chester? We were kind of having a moment. I think? Were we having a moment? Fucking hell, everything that used to be normal suddenly is complicated. I grab his hand that’s on my knee and squeeze. I can’t really place what the look I’m getting means, but I can feel it through my whole body. When we break our look, he takes his hand off my knee, and whatever kind of moment we had going is gone completely.

“Ready?” Remy asks as he grabs the door handle.

“Ready,” I say, opening my own door and stepping out in the pouring rain, getting soaked to my panties before I reach the front door. I’m trying to grab my keys, but they’re stuck in my wet pants that seem to have shrunk three sizes just by getting wet. An equally soaked Chester pushes me aside, opening the door and we stumble in. He’s in such a rush to get inside that he almost makes me trip, but then manages to grab me before I really topple over.

“Thanks,” I say, looking into his baby blues.

“Sure,” he says, scraping his throat. He rubs his neck and makes sure the few wet strands from his head are pushed behind his ear. “Imma go shower down by the pool,” he says before he takes off.

“Pool?” Why the hell would he go to the pool, he has his own bathroom upstairs?

“Yeah, not really in the mood to hear you guys having sex,” he says from a little further down the hallway.

I guess we’re going with being blunt. Why do I feel my cheeks heating? I shake all thoughts about Chester off of me, and turn around to face the other man that occupies my mind.

Remy’s standing with his arm pressed to the door frame, looking all kinds of drool worthy, even with wet hair, and every hard thought I was having about Chester is suddenly gone.

“So,” he says in that warm rich voice of his, “ready to take all these wet clothes off and get even wetter?”

I don’t answer him, I just start taking my clothes off as I start walking up the stairs to the bathroom.

We almost make it into the shower. I’ve got the water running, but in the time it takes for the water to get warm, Remy has me pressed against the door and is kissing my neck. My hands are pressed against the door above my head, which annoys me, because I want to touch him. He has that effect on me. I can’t get enough of him. But the dancing bastard is stronger than he looks, and I can’t get loose.

“Cold, shower,” I pant.

“Stop being a baby, I’m having fun.”

“Let’s have fun under the nice and hot water,” I try to convince him in my most seductive voice while pressing my back away from the door, only to run into solid muscle keeping me in place.

“Little delayed gratification never hurt anyone,” he says.

“Getting under a warm shower is no delayed gratification. And hypothermia does actually hurt people.” He huffs a laugh, but keeps me caged in by the door.

“How about I convince you to get under the water?”

“How are you gonna convince me?” He bites me in the nape of my neck and I groan.

“By using my mouth.”

“Words are going to do you no good.”

“I never said anything about using words,” I answer, my heated look falling on him. He swallows, and I can feel his dick twitch against my stomach.

“Shame though,” he tries one last time, “I was in the mood to not be gentle with you.”

“Did you hear me ask you to go easy on me? Hell no. Make it rough.”

He lets go of my hands, as I let myself slide down immediately and get on my knees in front of him. Bathroom tiles are cold though, fuck. I grab the base of his dick, and lick him from base to tip. Before I take him in my mouth, I look up to find his vibrant blue eyes looking down on me as he leans forward, holding himself up with his underarm against the door.

“We’re getting in the shower after,” I command of him before I take him all in. He opens his mouth to respond, but I hollow my cheeks and suck his tip, making his open mouth release a long groan instead of words, which I count as a win. Releasing him again, I let my tongue circle his crown, looking up again and find him with his eyes closed and his mouth open. I let my tongue slide through his slit, tasting him already. When I take him to the back of my throat again, I graze my teeth all the way over his length.

That gets his attention.

“You wanted rough?” he asks with a raspy voice. I nod. “Remember you asked for this,” he says, grabbing the back of my head with his free hand. He tangles his fingers through my wet hair and grabs it at the roots. Then he pushes me down on him, making him touch the back of my throat. My eyes start to water, but I don’t care. Neither does Remy. He not only pushes me down, but he starts moving his hips. I just hang on for exactly what I asked for.

My gag reflex plays up, but I force myself to relax through it. When I say he goes rough, I mean he goes rough. There’s absolutely no holding back, but it’s not more than I can take. And I do my best to make him feel that. I grab both his ass cheeks in order to find some stability, earning me another moan.

Releasing one of his ass cheeks soon after I’ve grabbed them, I let a finger glide through his crack, and softly press a finger against his hole.

“Fuck,” he cusses, and no matter how hard he’s fucking my mouth, I can’t help but grin. Just applying gentle pressure makes him go wild, and it takes about thirty seconds before he spills himself into me and I swallow down everything he has to give me.

When I let his dick go with a pop, he groans in a way that makes me think I might’ve gotten him a bit sensitive. It’s his own fault really. The hand he had tangled in my hair reaches out to help me get up, and once I’m standing he spins me and pushes me into the direction of the shower.

“You don’t play fair,” he says as he presses his body against my back when I step under the warm, glorious water.

“Never claimed I would,” I say, feeling my muscles relax from the warm water, the steam and the delicious human being behind me. Remy’s hands glide over my body, and I lean into his touch. His fingers find my hard nipples and squeeze them.

“You can’t possibly be ready to go again,” I half-whisper.

“Am not, doesn’t mean I can’t play with you as I get ready to go for another round.” He pulls and twists my nipples and it’s right on the border between hurting and pleasure. He brings his mouth to my ear and nips my lobe. “Didn’t peg you for the unannounced ass-play type.”

“Hm,” I answer as I try to think about anything besides the feeling of his fingers on my nipples. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Didn’t,” he growls as he reaches for the shower head, taking it down and adjusting the settings to the massage setting. God knows my knees are hurting, but besides that I don’t need a massage. The force coming from the jet is almost painful on my body, and when he lets it glide over my nipple, I try to back away standing on my tiptoes as a gasp leaves my mouth. Wet kisses trail my neck while he hums. Fuck, he sounds way too happy, he’s enjoying this way too much.

The water glides over my belly, until he points the jet on the apex of my thighs.

“Fuck,” I swear when the sensation almost becomes too much. His other hand never left my nipple and is still expertly working me over.

“Not yet, I get to taunt you first. Then fucking,” he says. Well, he can have it, I’m practically there. “I guess from your surprise, you don’t usually shower like this?”

Nope. No, I can honestly say I’ve never showered like this. But I’m unable to form words, because I feel my muscles starting to spasm. I grab Remy to keep myself standing upright, because the danger of falling over is real. As he twists my nipple, I topple over the edge and have an orgasm that I couldn’t have stopped even if I’d wanted to. Remy chuckles with his head still hidden in my neck, as I try to catch my breath. I feel his cock somewhere halfway up my back again, but I might need like a minute to gather my bearings.

“Never used that feature,” I finally manage to say.

“Then how do you get yourself off?”

“Toys. Lots and lots of toys. Now I’m just going to spend the rest of my days showering.”

Laughing, he changes the shower back to its default mode and puts it back in the holder. He then grabs my shower gel and starts applying it all over my body. Once I’m all lathered up, he spins me around, bends down and kisses me like his life depends on it. I moan into his mouth, and every thought I just had about having to catch my breath is gone.

He grabs my legs under my thighs and pulls me up. With my legs wrapped around his waist, he pushes me against the tiles of the shower wall.

“Cold,” I gasp.

“Shh,” he whispers, “only thing I want to hear from you is moaning or screaming.”

Holding me up with one arm as if it’s nothing, he guides himself to my opening, slamming into me to the hilt in one go. And indeed, I moan, the cold tiles all forgotten. Contrary to what I’d have thought he’d do, he starts fucking me at an agonizingly slow pace. I don’t get how he’s holding me up. The shower gel makes us extremely slippery, and I should be gliding down over him like it’s nothing.

As he starts thrusting into me, moans echo through the bathroom, making me sound louder than I think I really am. I reach around him, grab his hair, and pull his mouth down on mine. He attacks me with his tongue, and I get lost in sensation. Every part of him thrums through my body, and I can’t get enough of the feeling, I can’t get enough of him. He’s like a serious addiction and I’m absolutely not willing to kick the habit.

He shifts his legs, changing the angle in which he hits me. With gravity helping, his dick is so deep inside me I’m wondering when this is going to start to hurt. The limit of how far he can reach should end somewhere. His moans intertwine with mine, and we create this wildly passionate symphony together. It’s raw, and it’s wild, and everything and more. You could set an insanely gorgeous contemporary dance to the sounds we produce.

I can’t imagine someone not getting turned on by these sounds, but perhaps that’s the whole reason Chester didn’t want to hear it and opted for the pool instead.

Catching myself thinking about him while mid-fuck is kind of a mind-fuck. But there’s this side of me that isn’t put off and instead is turned on by it. And just like that, my body starts building again.

“Gonna come,” I manage to whimper.

“Greedy today, aren’t we?” he grunts.

I bite down on the nape of his neck, feeling myself explode into a mind blowing climax that manages to make my whole body shudder. Remy doesn’t ease up though, he keeps going at the same agonizing pace.

“That’s going to leave a mark,” he says with his mouth against my ear. I can hear every breath that leaves him, sending shivers down my spine even now I’m no longer cold.

“Good,” I pant, still feeling the aftershocks of my orgasm, “I like it when I can see you’re mine.”

“Say that again,” he grunts with a certain neediness to his voice.

“You’re mine,” I reply without missing a beat.

“Really greedy today,” he manages to say before I feel him tensing and working his way through his own orgasm. I let my fingers fumble with his hair, as I blatantly stare at the way he looks when he comes. It’s everything I never knew I needed.

This time, when he puts me down, he actually lets me use the shower the way showers are supposed to be used. But all the while, we keep touching each other like it’s physically impossible to stay away from one another. And in that moment, I think it is.