9. 8
Chester and I got out of the office during our lunch break. Having been together with him has given me some kind of superpower, because in all the years we’ve been together I’ve never been able to get him to leave his screens unless it’s an emergency. But even though I’ve had a good night”s sleep, I’m still running on fumes and going outside always seems to help. I somewhat rhetorically asked Chester if he wanted to join me for a stroll around the neighborhood during lunch, and to my surprise he obliged.
“How’s our search for the serial killer going?” I ask Chester by way of conversation. I know he’s been looking into it, but has been running into walls. If he wasn’t running into walls, he’d have told me what he’d found.
“Diddly Squat,” he answers as he wraps an arm around my shoulder. Ever since we’ve slept together, we’re kind of together together if you know what I mean. I lean into him, basking in the feeling of his embrace. It’s actually soothing.
“I’ve narrowed the list of victims down a little with the evidence Beckett sent over. It was before he was set in his pattern. Before he became good at what he’s doing.”
“You sound like Winny and Beckett,” I remark.
“I might’ve been taking some criminology and psychology courses,” he admits.
“Of course you have,” I answer sarcastically. “You have tons of time to educate yourself between working a fulltime job, saving kids and chasing down a serial killer.”
He tsks me. “It’s not like you’ve been getting that much more sleep than I have.”
“Yeah, and I’m slowly losing my mind Ches. We both need to take better care of ourselves.”
“Well, part of our trouble is because of Remy,” he points out, making my heart sting. A damn big part of the state I’m in is because of Remy. The guilt is eating me up alive and keeping me up at night. I sigh. Chester puts his hand on my cheek, making me face him. Once we lock eyes, a little piece of me relaxes and softens.
“You’re getting more depressed with each passing day because he’s angry with you. Let’s go fix that.”
I wish it were that easy. “How?”
“We go to him right now, make him see reason. Reel him back in with our dashing personalities.”
I snort. “I don’t think he’s going to go for that.”
“Well, let’s try. If it doesn’t work my way, you can always flash him. Now that I’ve seen your boobs I’m damn certain he won’t be able to resist.”
Leave it up to Chester to be able to make me laugh. I’ve never been prone to dark thoughts or depressions before this, the only time I’ve encountered it was right after my parents died and even then Chester was there to pull me through it, even if we didn’t know he was doing it at the time.
“We don’t even know where he is,” I try to counter, because if I leave it up to Chester we’ll seriously try to change Remy’s mind. We come to a standstill when Chester grabs his phone out of his pocket and opens up something on his phone I don’t recognize.
“He’s at the dancing company two blocks over.”
“You put something to track him on his phone?”
He gives me a look that makes me question how I could’ve been so stupid to even have to ask that. After he pockets it again, he drags me into the direction of the dancing company. Fuck, I guess we’re really doing this then. The whole walk over there I manage to freak myself out. This is the worst idea ever. Remy has made it very clear he doesn’t want anything to do with us at the moment. That he’s too mad. And knowing him like I do, I know that feeling will stick with him for a long while. He feels too passionately to let go easily.
Chester storms in the building, following some signal on his phone that he whipped out of his pocket again and doesn’t even look back to see if I’m following him. I’ve seen this happen before. When he sets his mind to something, he’ll go for it without looking back. It’s like he can flip a switch on a decision and he’ll stick to what the outcome is. In this particular case, we’re apparently going to win Remy back. Which could turn out great, if it works, but what could be an enormous failure at the same time.
I hear music coming from the practice room. Nirvana. The very last thing I expected to hear. It’s ‘I’m on a plain’ and I can’t figure out why this would be something Remy is dancing to. Then Kurt’s familiar voice sings Love myself, better than you, I know it’s wrong, but what can I do and with a pang in my heart I understand where he’s coming from. Deep down, Chester and Remy are not that different. Chester lets his music talk for him, Remy uses his music to make his body talk. So when I step through the door to the dancing room and see this godlike man dance with rage and grief on his face, I can feel his heartbreak. It’s the same heartbreak I’m experiencing myself and he’s making it physical in the form of dance. He dances with a petite girl in a leotard and she’s so gorgeous I want to hit her. Jealousy does not become me. They move as if they’re one, effortlessly in sync.
The moment Remy opens his eyes and sees us standing with him in the room he freezes.
“I can’t do this,” he whispers as he storms in the direction of the door. The girl notices what happens, grabs her bag and leaves the room through one of the doors on the opposite side of the room.
He almost walks away, and I’m inclined to let him go. No matter how heartbroken I am, he’s made his intentions clear. I brought this on myself. We brought this on us. Remy has done nothing but been real with me, and what did I do in return? I broke that trust. I deserve every depressed thought and feeling I have and then some. Kind of ironic, that the only time in my life I considered pursuing something serious with anyone, I have to go and fuck it up all by myself. Leaving my heart on the dancefloor,
I turn around, getting myself out of this situation. I’ve lived through worse, I’ll find a way to get through this as well. I’ve got Chester and we’ll figure something out. He’s smart enough for both of us. Coming here was an obvious mistake.
Chester stops him from leaving the room though, grabbing his upper arm with a strength I didn’t think he had in him. Remy seems furious, pulling his arm back out of Chester’s grip.
“Listen,” Chester says, both of his hands tangled in his hair, looking distressed. “Something Abs and I have bonded over all these years ago, is that things in our lives, our life in general, go South pretty fucking quickly. So when something seems too good to be true, like someone as good as you interested in something romantic happening with both of us, we quickly accept that it probably is too good to be true.”
He looks lost as he’s talking, something vulnerable in his eyes.
“That means that when someone comes in and says ‘Sorry, but the dude you’re falling for who’s also falling for your best friend who you also happen to be in love with, well, he’s a serial killer,’ then both our brains are quick to accept that. Because we aren’t wired to believe we deserve something good. We’re wired to believe the worst will happen. And you killing women would be the worst.”
Remy winces when he hears this.
“Now, when we couldn’t find any evidence that Becky’s hypothesis wasn’t true, we reluctantly started to believe in it. Abby took a lot more convincing than me I must admit. So if you’re not willing to forgive me, at least forgive her. She really didn’t want to believe that you were the killer.”
The word vomit that comes out of him is kind of cute. I don’t think he has taken a breath once since starting to talk. In the background Nirvana is still playing, but nobody listens to it anymore. I find myself unable to breathe.
Then I see something happening I wouldn’t have thought in a million years would ever happen. Remy punches Chester smack in the face. The sound of his fist connecting with his chin has a musical quality to it and it leaves me standing stunned. Remy rubs his knuckles, Chester rubs his chin and I’m left speechless.
“Feel better?” Chester asks, a wrinkle forming between his brows.
“Oddly enough, yes.” Remy looks confused, inspecting his knuckles. “Maybe sometimes violence is the answer.”
Getting out of my stupor I get to Chester and softly lay a hand on his cheek. The slap was probably warranted, but he’s had enough physical, sexual and mental abuse to last a lifetime. Before I can ask anything, he says he’s okay and takes a step back. I turn to Remy, facing him, looking him dead in the eye. The vibrancy of his blue eyes seems to sparkle.
“You need to hit me too?” I ask, fully prepared to take it. It’s not like I don’t feel like I deserve it.
“No,” he says resolutely.
“What do you need to do to me to make it up to you then?” I ask in a softer voice than I would’ve expected from myself. I stick my hands in my pockets to hide how badly they’re shaking. This is so not me. This is so far from the badass crimefighter I am. Remy softens me, and I like it.
“I need you to understand that I’m furious with you,” he snaps, and the cracks in my heart deepen even more. “I need you to understand that I’m furious with you, but I still can’t see a life without you in it. And I need you to understand how incredibly confusing that is. Here’s me, ready to hate you, feeling betrayed by you. And at the same time there isn’t a single fibre in my body that isn’t shouting how right it is to be with you.”
I swallow hard.
“So I don’t know Abigail, is there a way where I can give in to being with you while I’m still furious at you?”
His eyes look pleading, like he’s trying to figure it out himself, willing to find an answer in some way, any way. The way he uses my full name makes me aware of the seriousness of this situation. He’s not fooling around. He’s not being fun Remy. This is real between us, and this is what everything comes down to. Can we go on from this, even when we both have conflicted feelings and fucked up?
Chester grabs Remy’s phone and a new song starts blasting through the musical installation. The opening notes to ‘Still loving you’ by the Scorpions fill the room, and it strikes a chord with me.
Yes, I can live with Remy being furious at me and still working through it.
“Please,” I whisper, not sure myself what I mean with the word.
He breathes out through his nose making his nostrils flare, obviously still mad. But he closes the small distance between us and grabs my hand, pulling my front to his, while he starts leading me through a set of angry steps. It’s not the same as before. The carelessness is gone. My heart pounds against my chest and I swear I can feel his doing the same. It’s filled with raw anger and passion. It feels like the passion itself is making him angry.
When the music starts to build, I feel my lip starting to quiver. It comes so out of the blue, I don’t know what is happening. But tears are streaking down my cheeks and when I stop dancing, I almost stumble over my own feet. I try to hide my face with my hands, but they get pulled away.
“Never hide your feelings,” Remy says, pushing me back into a dance move again. He swings me through the room as tears run down my face and my heart feels like it gets pulled out of my chest. His shirt is clenched in my fist, as I hold on to him afraid that if I let him go everything will go to shit again.
Remy tangles his hand in my hair, yanking my head back harder than the dance calls for. But if there’s anything I’ve learned about the gorgeous Mister Ashburn, it’s that he wears his heart on his sleeve. His lips crash into mine, and I press myself against him as hard as I can. His kiss is everything he said it would be. Furious. Passionate. All consuming. When I release a breath, my body relaxes and my hands unclench. Wrapping my arms around his neck, the dancing stops, and when the guitar solo sets in, the world vanishes and all that is left is his kiss.
I hear Chester getting up from the other side of the room, presumably to give us some space. Remy breaks the kiss, and while Chester walks past he is stopped by Remy’s outstretched hand. Chester looks at it apprehensively.
“Are you going to hit me again? Because I think once was about the extent I can take,” the blond hacker says.
Remy sighs. “No hitting,” he says in a growly voice. “Just… I’m still furious with you too. You need to know that.” Then he pulls Chester against both of our bodies and crashes his mouth to his as well. I can practically taste Chester’s confusion, but it takes just a second before he gives into it too. Having front row seats to one of the hottest man-on-man kisses I’ve ever seen makes the whole drama we’ve just been through worth it. Almost.
When they break their kiss, both men scrape their throat. “What does this mean?” Chester asks. I can see his question for what it is; a need for some control, some certainty. He needs some ground rules, not being able to go about things like this on the fly.
“It means we’ll figure this out,” Remy concludes. “All of us.”
We all nod, standing in silence as the music has ended.
“I’m just going to say this once by the way,” Remy continues. “I’m not the killer, I’ve never killed anyone in my life and I probably never will, although I must confess I’ve had some dark thoughts these last couple of days and might have planned how I’d kill the both of you.”
Now, if you would’ve said something similar to any sane person, they’d be appalled. Not Chester and me. We burst into laughter, finally coaxing a laugh from Remy as well.
“So, all of us?” Chester asks.
“Yeah, it’s obvious you two have worked through your issues.”
“We didn’t have any issues,” Chester debates. “We just had some new territory to discover.”
“You planted your flag?” Remy jokes with a side smirk.
“Oh my god, you did not just say that,” I answer laughing.
“Oh come one, saying it like that is practically begging for a quirky remark,” he answers. He looks at the door the dancer who left went through. “Now you both should leave, and I need to go see if there’s still someone to dance with.”
Guilt fills my stomach again. Because his possible involvement was all over the news, we ruined his career as a dance teacher and we scared away possible dancing partners. He grabs my chin with his forefinger and his thumb, forcing me to look at him.
“It’s okay,” he sighs.
“No,” I respond. “It’s not. But I do hope you’ll ever be able to forgive me.”
“You’re already forgiven,” he says.
“But you’re still furious?”
He nods.
“How can you forgive me if you’re still so furious?
“Because not forgiving you would be like denying myself a piece of my heart. And while I might be furious with you and I think you don’t deserve it, I still believe that I deserve it. So, you, both of you, are the torment in my life that make me whole. Which makes you forgiven, even if you don’t believe you deserve it yourself.”
There’s kindness in his eyes when he’s done talking. I didn’t know how much I needed to see that until now. Standing on my tiptoes, I kiss his cheek, the same kindness shining in my eyes. When I step back and leave him be, my heart feels less heavy than when I came here.
Grabbing Chester’s hand, we leave together, letting Remy do his thing, knowing we’ll see each other again soon.
It’s the best damn lunch break I’ve ever had.
It’s been a long day at the office and other than working some of my shit out with Remy I feel like I’ve not achieved anything. I drive Chester and myself up to the little castle that we call home and park the car as close to the front door as we can. We haven’t said a word on the drive over, instead just listening to an album of Metallica.
I open the front door and before I can step inside, I feel Chester pressed against my back. His hand lands on my stomach and his mouth falls on my neck, coaxing a laugh out of me by surprising me.
“What are we doing?” I ask, my voice thick.
“Well, I’m very much done with today, I’m emotionally spent and all I can think about is taking you to bed and forget the world exists for a while.”
My body heats up from those words alone, my mouth suddenly dry. When I push my body against his, I can feel his hard-on and it’s like the starting signal has been given and we’re off.
Letting him push me inside, he steers us to the stairs, where we stumble into my room. I think it’s an excellent choice as its nearest and my patience is non-existent. I turn around, pressing my mouth against his. There’s nothing soft or tentative about it, and I’m loving every second of it.
He tears my clothes off, while I make haste in taking his off. There are hands everywhere, our bodies writhing against each other until we’re both in our underwear. I’m panting, my belly full of butterflies, my thighs wet with arousal and my head filled with filthy thoughts.
I need to make sure though. No matter how badly I want this to continue just like this, I can’t ignore his limits and I need to make sure he is okay.
My fingers grab his hair, and I pull his mouth off of me, forcing him to look at me. His eyes are filled with lust, the sight of it making a moan leave my mouth.
“Before we take this show on the road, I need to know if you’re okay with this pace. We could take it easier if you need to.”
An evil chuckle leaves Chester’s mouth, and his look changes from heated to devious.
“No, Abs. Ever since you told me you like it rough last time, all I could think about was showing you just how rough I can be. And I think it’s a fucking good way to forget about our troubles.”
Well, fuck.
“Fine,” I reply, “just don’t expect me to roll over and take it. I’m just as rough and I need you to be ready for that.”
“You don’t know what’s coming for you, babe.”
With those words, he grabs me under my arms and literally throws me on the bed. He crawls over me, grabbing me by my thighs and pulling me down, my legs wide as he positions himself between them. His mouth comes down in another demanding kiss, making me arch my back from the sensation.
He extends my hands above my head, grabbing both of them in one hand. His grip is firmer than I would’ve expected of him, but maybe I should take into consideration that he’s only been with men before me, so he usually doesn’t have to take it easy I presume.
He kisses his way down to my bra, pulls it aside, and starts kissing it.
“I really fucking love your boobs,” he says in a way too serious tone, making me laugh.
“Glad to hear that my body parts please you.”
He bites my nipple out of nowhere, making me suck in air. In retribution, I free my hands and spin him around, straddling him, grabbing his hands and taking them above his head, holding them in a firm grip.
“What the hell?”
“I train five days a week for situations just like this, you really think I can’t get out of your cute death grip?” I feel the need to let him know that I really can take him on and he really doesn’t have to hold back with me.
“Well, maybe I should come to training more often if this is the stuff you learn.”
I bend down, suck in his earlobe and bite down.
“That’s how it’s going to be?” he asks, his voice husky.
“You started it by biting my nipple,” I counter while I kiss my way down and let my tongue twirl around his nipple piercing, making him groan. He tries to free his hands, and I let him, because whether or not he thinks he’s ready to have it rough, I’m not ready to force him in a position where I feel like I’m doing something he might be uncomfortable with.
He uses his freed hands to unclasp my bra and take it off, flinging it somewhere into my room. He continues his mission to get me undressed by pulling my panties down, and I lift my hips to let him. While I’m not fully on him, I take off his boxers as well.
Our naked bodies tangle in another fight for dominance and pleasure, kissing and stroking the other on every inch of body we can find. But it isn’t enough, I need more. I need him.
“I need you to fuck me,” I moan.
He groans. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to this not-prepping.”
I chuckle and he uses the opportunity to throw me off him.
“Get on all fours,” he demands, and instead of fighting him on it, I listen. He kneels behind me, gripping my hip and lining himself up with my opening. When I rock myself back on him, because my patience has run out since we stepped through the door, he pushes in. The feeling of his piercing inside of me is foreign once again, but certainly a very welcome experience. I can feel his hesitancy when he bottoms out, but my body adjusts to him like it was what it was made for.
It takes him just a few seconds to get over his mental issues and start thrusting into me. And it’s so good.
“Pull my hair,” I direct him, and he doesn’t have to be told twice. He grabs my ponytail, twirls it around his wrist before he starts pulling my head back.
He takes his other hand off my hip and pushes me down between my shoulders. My ass sticks up in the air and my face is pressed down, while he keeps hold of my hair. Not going easy on me whatsoever, and I think we understand each other in the bedroom perfectly as well.
He’s pounding into me with long brutal thrusts, almost gliding out of me whenever he pulls back, but never really doing it. My eyes shutter close as I bask in the deliciousness of what’s going on.
The hand that pushed me down has disappeared, and I’m too busy to care what the hell is going on. Next thing I know, I feel his wet thumb circling my hole, making me release a long moan. Anticipation of what he’s going to do sends a thrill to my whole body.
He gently starts applying pressure, before he pushes the tip in. All the while, he doesn’t let up on how he’s fucking me. I’d love to say that I’m somewhat participating, because I hate being a non-reciprocating partner in bed, but at this point I’m just holding on for dear life.
“Fuck,” I swear, when I feel a slight burn which balances the line between pain and pleasure just right.
“You look so fucking good like this,” Chester growls at me, the sound of it getting me even hotter.
“Fuck,” I repeat, because apparently it’s all I’m able to say right now.
“Keep your head down,” he grunts before releasing my hair. He uses his hand to go around me and uses two fingers to go through my folds, trying to find my clit. He does a fucking awesome job of it for someone who hasn’t been around a pussy at all. I don’t even have to guide him with moans as they just roll out willingly.
Working me into beautiful agony with two hands while he keeps fucking me, I feel a familiar tingle spreading through my body. Every time he pumps in I get closer to climax.
“Don’t…” I manage to pant, “stop…”
“Wasn’t planning to,” he answers, driving himself into me harder and harder. It’s the moment I ignite and my body seems to explode with pleasure. All the while I’m unable to breathe, my muscles spasming and my mouth opens in a soundless scream.
“Fuck,” Chester says. We seem to have a very limited yet matching vocabulary right now.
Coming down from my high, he intuitively stops rubbing my clit, the bundle of nerves too sensitive after just having orgasmed this hard. The finger in my ass keeps pumping though, and I have an inkling he likes the sight of it himself. He drives himself into me over and over again until his breath hitches and he stiffens. I manage to push myself back on him, fucking him through his own climax.
His body falls on mine shortly after, both out of breath and spent. I don’t even bother to fight the sleep that takes me over.
When I wake a few hours later because I’m hungry, I stare at Chester’s angellike face. He’s completely relaxed and looks carefree. I manage to get myself out of his embrace without waking him up to get us something to eat in the kitchen.
I grab my phone, go downstairs and grab some frozen pizzas to heat up. While I’m waiting for the oven to heat, I think about that afternoon, and the fact that Remy forgave me, and that things between us will get better – and I feel so fucking elated. No, we’re not there yet, and things will probably never go back to the exact way it was before, but having him in my life in any sort of way will make it infinitely better than it would be without him.
I grab my phone and open it to send him a text.
Me: I’m so fucking happy you’re able to forgive me. I don’t deserve you.
His reply is almost instantly.
Remy: Not forgiving you was never an option. We belong together. Learn to live with it, ma coeur.
You couldn’t wipe the smile off my face even if you’d tried to.