Tellings of the Time: Complete series

5. 4

“Do you think we’re going to find anything?” I ask Beckett when we’re walking in the woods behind Wayne’s house the next day. We’re at about a five minute hike in the direction of where the body of Wayne’s neighbor was found years ago.

“It’s a long shot,” he answers, staring at the leaf covered forest floor and going through the trees. “If they didn’t find the rope that was used to murder her then, we probably won’t find it now. But it’s better to be out here than be useless somewhere else.”

His cheeks have a slight pink tone from the cold autumn air, and it makes him look years younger. There are dark circles beneath his eyes from the lack of sleep I know he has, but today there’s a passion burning in his eyes. Knowing that it’s Wayne, knowing who we’re looking for, knowing that he did his job in identifying this killer has lit a fire. Now all we have to do is actually find him.

“I think that if there was any evidence out here, to begin with, it’ll be long gone now,” I say, voicing my insecurities. Not believing that we’re going to find anything isn’t stopping me from being out here and taking a long shot.

“You and Scott were right in saying that his first kill meant something to him,” Beckett ponders, kicking up some leaves and looking beneath them but coming up empty. “I just don’t know if the scene is significant to him. He’s pretty set on his ritual, and I think that murder room we found yesterday is a prime example of that. I don’t know if location, this location, adds anything for him. The way he takes his victims, taking them on certain dates from certain spots. I don’t know. My gut tells me that location is important to him, and this one feels significant.”

I nod, rubbing my hands over each other, trying to warm them. He makes a good point. I can feel his eyes on me, sending a shiver down my spine. We’ve been so crazy busy with everything going on that we haven’t acknowledged that I asked him to stay. We’ve just gone on with life as if that was the most natural thing to do. But the butterflies in my stomach haven’t died yet, and his attention makes me feel like a million bucks.

I’m raking my bottom lip with my teeth, holding myself back and not acting on my instincts. I want to ravage him, but it never seems to be the time or the place. Take now, for example – we’re searching for Wayne, not a good time.

Something moves in the corner of my eye. It’s far away, but I’m sure I’ve seen it. It could be wildlife, but I highly doubt it.

“You see that?” I ask Beckett, keeping my eyes on where I saw the movement.

“Yeah,” he says. “Let’s go.”

He takes off at a slow jog, hand on his gun. His shoulders are tense and his whole body seems to be on alert. I’m not far behind, following him, hand on my own gun. We’ve run about fifty feet before Wayne emerges from behind a bush. Fuck. He takes off and runs deeper into the woods, running through the trees like a deer fleeing a hunter. He cackles, and I can see in the flesh that we’re dealing with a maniac. He’s enjoying this.

“Call Chester,” Beckett says while both of us follow him. The killer. The Time. Wayne Daniel Ridgefield. I get my phone out of my pocket, trying to not let it fall on the ground while we run at top speed to shorten the distance between us and Wayne. Don’t ask me how, but I manage to call Chester.

“Yeah?” he answers.

“We’re chasing Wayne. He’s in the woods behind his house, heading north,” I bark between breaths.

“Fuck,” Chester says. “I’ve got nothing there. No cams, no security. I can see if I can get some drones?”

“Whatever, just do what you can.” There’s no time to be subtle. All that matters is that we don’t let him get away, that we catch him again and that we finish this all once and for all. Hanging up, I put my phone away and make sure I run as fast as I can. I’ve got more to give, can go for longer than this and I just pray to fuck that Wayne isn’t as fit as I am.

I don’t know how the fucking asshole does it, but he seems to fly through the woods, jumping over logs and bushes and getting farther away. Beckett is in front of me, taking long strides as well.

But Wayne seems to be faster.

Instead of gaining ground on him, he’s gaining ground on us. He starts zigzagging through the trees, making it impossible to anticipate where he’s going. Every now and then, he laughs and the sound of it makes the hair on the back of my arms stand up.

“Fuck,” I mumble with nobody but the trees to hear me.

Beckett almost falls down, tripping over a branch, but as soon as he hits the ground, he gets up again. I can hear him curse, but he seems to be alright. When it took him to get up, I got distracted and lost Wayne. Frantically looking around, I try to catch sight of him again, but I see nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Where is he?” I ask Beckett with panting breaths.

“I don’t fucking know!” He’s yelling at me, but I don’t think he’s yelling at me. Both of us are fed up with this whole situation and are taking it out on each other.

Desperately, I try to find another sign of him. But it’s useless.

And then it starts to rain.

Fat raindrops fall through the foliage and the ground turns into a soggy mess within seconds. When I look up my face gets splattered. I try to catch my breath, but I’m panting like I just ran a couple of miles through the forest. Which I did. Letting my head hang down, leaning with my palms on my thighs, I try to figure out what went wrong. Why he got away. We were so fucking close!

Beckett stands next to me, catching his breath as well, looking around and searching for Wayne. The air grows dense and petrichor reaches my nose.

“Where the fuck is he?” he bellows.

“I don’t know,” I shout.

The sound of the rain is so loud we have to shout at each other even if we’re standing close. In the distance, I can hear birds chirping from their safe places beneath the leaves.

“How did he get away?” Beckett asks in defeat.

“He knows these woods. He’s been training for this his whole goddamn life.”

“So have we!”

Fuck, I get that this is a setback. I fucking hate it as well, but there’s not much we can do about it. I can’t magically make Wayne fucking Ridgefield appear out of thin air. Beckett stands so close to me that I can feel the heat his body radiates. His body that became warm from the chase is steaming in the cold autumn air. A raindrop hangs on the tip of my nose, and I wipe it away with the back of my hand.

“Let it go,” I order him, looking up at him through my wet eyelashes when I tip my head back.

“No,” the stubborn bastard says.

And then the birds stop chirping.

The forest lights up from a thunderbolt, immediately followed by a low rumble that sounds like a purring cat that reaches its crescendo when it loudly thunders. The hair on the back of my arms rises when I feel the electric current in the air. Being in the eye of the storm in a forest with huge trees is one of the last places I want to find myself.

I’ve grabbed Beckett’s forearm during the thunder, and he’s solely focused on me. His green eyes look pained as he looks at me with slumped shoulders, and I get it - I hate that he got away again. There’s just nothing I can do about it.

So I do the only thing I can think of to take some of his burden. I kiss him. I kiss him with everything I’ve got. All my frustration about him, about Wayne, all my insecurities, all my inhibitions. I put it all into that kiss. My hands weave in his wet hair while his arms wrap around my waist, pulling him so close I can feel his heat through his clothes.

A guttural groan comes from his mouth and the sound resonates with a part so deep in me I didn’t even know I had it. He releases my mouth, a trail of kisses and soft bites going over my jaw to that soft spot beneath my ear, driving me crazy. The stubble on his cheeks scrapes over my chin and gives me goosebumps.

If I can’t have closure by catching Wayne, I can at least finally give into my urges and have Beckett. Outdoors and halfway through chasing a serial killer might not be the best timing though. But he’s long gone and we aren’t going to find him in the woods, where he knows better than us.

The whole area lights up again from the lightning, almost making him look unreal. But he is real, and he’s grabbing my ass, making my belly flutter. I bite my lip when he starts to kiss my neck. I want to just give in to it, but I’m trying to be reasonable. When he bites my neck, it’s clear that not doing something isn’t an option either.

“Take me home, now,” I groan in a voice so husky I don’t even recognize it as my own.

He grunts, kisses my cheek and then he swats my ass. While I’m yelping he throws me over his shoulder, making me yelp again and he takes off in the direction of the cars, using his long legs to make his way through the forest quickly. His arm is around my thighs, and even though it’s a bumpy ride, I feel safe and secure. And aroused. Fucking aroused.

Is this really happening?

“Beckett?” I ask after he’s carried me half the distance we just ran into the woods.

“Hm?”

“Mind if I walk myself?”

“Not happening, vixen. I’m not letting you go for even one second so you can change your damn mind. I’ve kissed you for the first time weeks ago. I’ve been fucking hard for weeks. I don’t have two other girlfriends, if you didn’t know.” I can hear the genuine frustration, but a bit of lightheartedness as well. I like this side of him. His words make me want him even more, and I already had trouble keeping my hands off of him.

He carries me through the woods, caveman style until suddenly we’re at the car, which I get deposited into in a very unceremonious manner. Beckett goes around the car in record time and starts the engine, taking off while the window wipers try to get rid of all the excess water and fail miserably.

“Don’t you dare change your mind,” he says, eyes on me instead of the road, flaming with an intensity I can’t comprehend.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say in a husky voice. “Just, maybe step on it?”

He grunts.

I chuckle when I see he’s doing ten above the limit. “You rebel,” I tease.

“We can’t all be lawbreakers like you,” he says, stepping on it some more.

“We’ll just call it an emergency should you get pulled over. It’s not even a lie. We’re just coming from an emergency.”

He huffs, glancing my way and then keeps on driving through the wet streets of Portland. Me? I’m a little drunk on him right now. The sharpness of his strong jaw, the greenness of his eyes. The way his dark hair frames his face. Biting my bottom lip and squeezing my thighs against each other, I try to find any trace of patience left inside me, but all that’s to be found is burning passion.

We drive up my driveway, the rain so thick that it’s as if the road leading up to it has magically evaporated. We race to the front door together, opening it in haste while Beckett’s hands start roaming over my body even before we get inside.

Leaving a trail of coats, shoes, and clothes all the way up the stairs, we make it to my bedroom. Turning around, my mouth against his jaw, my arms around his neck and my chest flush up against his, I get lifted off the ground and only come back down when I feel the bed against my back. Something resembling an ‘oof’ leaves my mouth, but the sound is smothered when he puts his lips on mine. The gesture is gentler than the way his tall body is caging me in, writhing over me.

My phone starts ringing at the most inconvenient time ever and I reach to grab it.

“Let it ring,” Beckett says, taking my nipple in his mouth and sucking on it.

I gasp, because fuuuuck, but finally manage to stumble words out. “I’ve got to take this. It’s probably Chester and last he heard we were following Wayne through the forest.”

My hand finds my phone, and I try to open my eyes long enough to see it’s indeed Chester. But before I can answer Beckett pulls it from my hands, answers the phone and puts it on speaker.

“This is Beckett, Abby can’t come to the phone right now. In fact, Abby is taking the afternoon off.”

“Ooooooh… kay?” Chester says. “Are you guys safe at least?”

“Yes, got to go now. Maybe come home a little later than usual as well,” he answers before he hangs up and throws my phone somewhere on the other side of my bed. Then he starts kissing my body like a starved man, and I give as good as I get. I feel like a lioness, pouncing on my prey while at the same time he’s acting like a wolf, starving for more.

My hands disappear beneath his shirt, gliding over his muscles while he sucks on my pulse point before biting down, making my back arch.

“You bit me,” I groan.

“Hm,” is all he has to say for himself, and I can’t even blame him for that. He takes off my top, throwing it to the floor and pulls down my bra, exposing my breasts and pushing them up in the process. I take off his shirt before he leans down and takes my nipple in his mouth, biting down instantly.

“Stop biting me,” I say, but it lacks power.

“Stop liking it,” he counters, kissing his way down over my abdomen and to my hip bone.

“Hmm,” is really all I can answer to that. He peels off my pants, leaving me in my underwear. Strong hands grab my thighs, pulling me down on the bed to where he wants me. My fingers weave in his hair, and I don’t fucking know if it’s to hold on or to keep him there.

“Fuck,” he grunts with his nose in the crook of my thigh, licking a way up, the tone of his voice giving me goosebumps. I feel fucking worshipped by him. “You smell amazing.”

Without realizing what I’m doing, I push my hips up and it’s just the last bit he needs to go feral. He grabs my black lacey hipster and tears it off me, ripping the fabric in two and exposing me. He widens my legs, making space for his broad shoulders, breathing over me and sending a shiver down my spine. The tip of his tongue parts my folds, opening me up to him while he hums, and I stop breathing. He keeps me open with his thumbs, circling my clit and writing the fucking alphabet with it.

Long moans come out of my mouth every time I do manage to breathe, and my fingers start tingling when I inadvertently start to hyperventilate. He lifts one of my legs over his shoulder and spears his tongue into my opening, fucking me with it until I’m ready to simply beg for him to do so with his dick. The pad of his thumb rubs demanding circles over my clit, forcing me into a mind-numbing orgasm so quickly it takes over my body completely.

With his touch all over me, I completely surrender myself to him - giving him my all, unable to keep the shattered pieces of myself together. Once he starts kissing his way up on my body again, I start coming down to Earth again, but my breath has gone haywire and I don’t know where I start or finish.

He weighs me down, laying on top of me with his pants still on. Wiggling my hands between us, I fumble with his button, desperately trying to get him naked. He takes pity on me, helping me remove the last items of his clothing until I can feel his skin on mine.

I hook my leg around his, using a move I learned in self-defense classes to switch my position with his and suddenly I’m on top. Straddling him, I lean forward, kissing him until I feel like I’m losing my mind. Having him this close but not feeling him inside of me is making me crazy, but after waiting this long to give in to my feelings for him, it’s almost weird to do so. I’m just too fucking aroused to care about the weirdness. He pistons his hips up, his cock stuck between our bodies and I just don’t have it in me to wait any longer.

“Clean?” I whisper against his lips.

“According to my latest test, yes.” He holds me close to him, pulling my hair and kissing my neck.

“And there’s nobody since?”

“It’s only been you since I laid eyes on you.”

Fuck.

I’m falling for this man so hard.

“We’re all clean, and I’m on birth control,” I say, but the sound is barely audible. Yet he seems to hear anyway. Using the move I just used on him, he flips us over again. He guides his cock to my opening, his emerald eyes looking down on me, asking for permission. So I lift my pelvis, taking him in, my eyes fluttering close from the feeling of him stretching me.

Slowly he glides in, and it seems to go on forever. His forehead rests in the crook between my neck and my shoulder, his muscles straining from going slow. When he finally bottoms out, we’re both out of breath. While I’ve not had a good look at him, he feels like he’s stretching me to my limits and I feel like I’m in for a surprise once I get to take a peek.

I roll my hips, urging him to start moving, and he takes my cue like a damn pro. He lets himself glide out so that he almost takes his cock fully out, but just before he thrusts back in again. His head is right next to mine, and I’m so aroused and frustrated that I bite his jaw.

“That how it’s going to be?” he grunts.

“Please move,” I beg. It’s so overdue.

He bites my earlobe, hard, making me yelp. But then he starts to move. He moves my hands so that they’re above my head and pins them down on the mattress. His mouth moves down, kissing and biting and nipping. I push up my hips, meeting him stroke for stroke. He grunts, not in the good way, suddenly pulling out.

Grabbing both of my hands with one hand, his other reaches for my hips, turning me around and pinning me down. He opens my legs with his knees and lowers himself down on me, guiding his cock back inside.

He lowers his mouth next to my ear when I try to move along with him even from my immobile position.

“Just let me properly fuck you, troublemaker.”

I huff, not a submissive bone in my body.

But he starts to roll his hips and I go along with it. He fucks me slowly, but so hard I can feel him all the way inside me, afraid he might end up somewhere in my stomach.

He sinks his teeth into my shoulder, and I arch my back as I groan. The tips of his fingers are digging so deep into my hip that they’re going to leave bruises tomorrow, and I don’t care. Perhaps I should. Perhaps I should care about the teeth marks too, but what better way to remember this exact moment than the traces of it on my body?

His hand reaches around me, wriggling between my body and the mattress, searching out that spot between my legs and rubbing strong strokes on it. He pinches it, fondles it, rubs it, pushes it, and I lose my fucking mind.

His teeth sink into me again, this time in the crook of my neck and it entices a moan.

“I’m going to need you to come for me,” he growls.

It’s one of those rare times I have no trouble following orders. The way he tilts his hips makes sure I can feel him all the way inside me, reaching a certain spot that makes it easy to just give myself over to the sensations.

The months of buildup probably play a part in it as well.

I don’t know if I’m thrusting or if I’m riding his hand, and truth be told, I don’t fucking care. My insides start to tighten, and every time he reaches that one place, I seem to reach a higher level of pleasure.

Beckett is struggling to catch his breath, latching his mouth onto the skin beneath my ear. His teeth scrape while he licks and soothes at the same time.

And then I detonate.

Every neurotransmitter I have emits pulses of pleasure while I ride one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had.

“Fucking finally,” Beckett grunts, and he picks up the pace. I’m still riding the last waves of my orgasm before I feel him following me over the edge, pushing himself inside me so deep I don’t think he’ll ever find the way out again. I don’t care. He can live there.

When I finally touch down again, I guide my arm over the back of his head, holding onto him. He thanks me by biting down again.

“Stop biting me.”

“Only when you stop liking it.”

It’s useless to argue with this pigheaded ass. He kisses the bite, both of us still catching our breath. When he lowers his forehead between my shoulder blades, we just lie there for an eternity, shutting out the world and all the worries it entails and creating our little bubble.

And just then, everything seems to be right in the world.

It’s not even an hour later when I get myself a glass of water in the kitchen, pressing my phone against my ear while I try to keep my robe closed. It’s fucking useless, and it opens every other second. I stop trying. It’s not like I expect anyone to come here who hasn’t seen me naked anyway.

“Yo,” Chester answers while I hear the first notes of Glycerine by Bush coming through the speakers. It’s an odd song choice for him. Truth be told, I don’t ever expect him to listen to Bush. Their other works? Maybe. If he’s in the mood. The non-mainstream might do it, but not the big hits.

So before I can remember why I’m calling, I blurt, “Why?”

Naturally, he doesn’t magically follow my train of thought.

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“Why are you listening to Glycerine?”

Chester snorts. “Trying to find some music that Remy and I may have in common and stumbled on nineties grunge.”

“But you hate Glycerine,” I state.

“That’s what I told Remy.”

“You don’t even like Gavin Rossdale.”

“I like the sound of his voice.”

I grunt in acknowledgement, because it’s true. I wonder if it’s a pro or a con that I know literally everything there is to know about Chester. The fun part of falling in love with someone is getting to know them, right? That’s not going to happen with Chester. I know him like the back of my hand.

“I like Glycerine,” I hear Remy’s voice in the back.

“Remy’s there?”

“Yeah, why the hell would I be listening to Glycerine otherwise? Are you done?” Chester says, his voice snappy. I realize he’s not referring to me criticizing his choice in music, but to whatever I was up to with Beckett and all the tranquility I felt after that epic fuck evaporates.

God, what if I fucked up what I have with both Remy and Chester?

But we did warn Chester. Or, well, Beckett did.

“All done,” I answer shortly.

“Can we come in then?”

“Where are you?”

“Car outside.”

I start laughing. It’s just a step short of standing on the other side of the door and listening to what we were doing. “Come inside,” I say, filling a glass of water and draining it whole. I’m not sure how to handle inviting my two boyfriends inside when I just had sex with my third, but it might be best to just bite the bullet.

“Coming up,” Chester confirms before ending the call.

Meanwhile, Beckett walks into the room, hair wet from the shower and wearing nothing but his boxer briefs.

“What’s taking you so long?” he asks me while he comes up behind me and traces one of the bite marks on my shoulder with his finger.

“Had a lively discussion about a Bush song.”

He squints his eyes, trying to figure out what the hell I just said but looks over his shoulder when the sound of footsteps reaches us.

“Hot damn, Becky,” Chester says when he barges into the kitchen.

“Are those bite marks?” Remy asks me. His shoulders are tense and his mouth is a sharp line.

“She likes it,” Beckett answers without actually answering him. Both guys give me a questioning look, and I shrug while I feel my cheeks heat.

“Should I be calling you Bitey instead of Becky?” Chester asks, grabbing one of the cans of cheap energy drink.

“Just quit it with the nicknames,” he snaps.

“Okay, Edward.”

I chuckle. Remy is inspecting the rest of my body, blatantly lifting my robe and finding all the other marks left on my body.

“So, she likes the biting, but what are all these other spots?”

Now it’s Beckett’s turn to pinken up. He’s suddenly very busy grabbing himself a drink.

“Maybe I like seeing myself on her body,” he says in a quieter voice than I’ve ever heard him be. I expect the last seal to hell to break when he says so, with both Chester and Remy trying to come out as my shining knights, but they don’t.

They actually give each other a look and concede with a slight tilt of their heads that they understand.

It’s the first time I truly feel like this whole arrangement between the four of us might just be crazy enough to work.

But if this is the stuff they agree upon? Then fuck, I’m in trouble.