Takes Its Toll

by Kit Graves

  “You okay?” he asked again, softer now. She thought she heard a smile in it - she was obviously okay. More than okay.

  “Mmph,” was all she managed, putting her palm against his chest. “Mm-hmm.”

  He laughed then, dipping his face toward hers so his hair brushed her forehead. He brushed her hair back from where sweat had stuck it to her forehead, his eyes bright and happy as he took her in. She smiled lazily back, wondering why she didn’t feel more shy. Any time Tomer had done anything for her in bed he’d complained until she hated it, bargained and bullied until he’d been paid back a thousand times over. He’d-

  She stopped herself, consciously, from comparison. There was no comparison, that was all. Harlan was everything she’d been waiting for. That was all.

  Feeling brave, she tilted her chin up to him, landing a kiss on his jaw that sent him humming. He rolled onto her, propping himself up on flexed forearms that she ran her hands up, up, up to his shoulders - one freckled, one scarred. She kept kissing what she could reach of him: his throat, his collar, even his furry chest. He hummed, nosing back against her. Gradually, as she came back into her body, she became aware of him against her stomach, the long, hard press of him.

  Wordlessly, she settled back further, cradling him between her legs. Olivia drew her knees apart, biting her lip at the contact, and nodded when he fit his eyes back to hers. It was the work of a second for him to reach past her for a condom from his nightstand, his hands disappearing between them, though she could hardly wait. And then he tilted his forehead back into hers, grey eyes locked on blue as he pushed into her for the first time.

  Olivia gasped so loudly that Harlan’s low curse was lost. He’d overwhelmed her with one motion, and when he moved slowly forward, she realized that it wasn’t even over. Her body cried out, then calmed, then began to build toward a different type of cry. She felt drowned, lost, saved, found. Her eyes watered, but not in pain, and when he began to move in earnest a tear slipped away, streaking downward and getting lost in her hair. Harlan followed it with his lips, kissing it away, kissing her face blindly, his arms already shaking.

  Together they arched, dipped, converged. Olivia tried to hide her face against his arm, but he sought her out, kissing her until she could taste them both on his tongue. Her fingers tangled in his hair, ran down his back, and finally came back up to clutch his shoulders. It was all she could do to hold on, to meet his body, to not die of happiness right there underneath him. Harlan’s kisses, his hands, his dick filled every empty place inside of her, making her feel entirely whole for the first moment in years.

  When he came, she followed, surprised by the punch of it, the way she seemed to unlatch inside, just as boneless as she was breathless. He clung to her for a moment, not moving for long minutes, and she stroked his back slowly. Spent as he was like this, in her and on her, she felt like she could finally hold Harlan the way he held her. With her arms wrapped around him, their breath still mingling in pants, she could rest her cheek against his head and finally, finally, feel totally at peace.

  Chapter 20

  They ate their pizza in bed. The third one they’d thrown together turned out disgusting, and Olivia shrieked as Harlan tried to feed it to her. He ate it instead, making her gag and laugh and push at his chest as he chomped it down, grinning at her.

  “We’re dating now, right?” she asked, trying for casual as he tried his best to brush crumbs off of the sheets.

  “Been dating,” he answered, looking confused for a moment, before his expression cleared. “Ah, I see. Looking for a boyfriend?” She blushed, but he reached for her, tickling her until she laughed and knew he was teasing. “I’d love that,” he confirmed, stilling his hands on her at last. He looked a little stunned, but pleased, and she ran her hands down his chest just to feel him. “It’s more than I expected.”

  “Oh,” she said, puzzled. They were still mostly naked, her wearing her panties and one of his shirts, him in a fresh pair of boxer briefs. “What did you expect?”

  “Expect? Nothing.” He tugged her - his - shirt, bringing her close enough to kiss. Instead of kissing her, though, he took her in, his eyes calmer and steadier than she’d ever seen before. “Want? Everything.”

  Olivia’s heart clenched down, holding tight to his words, his awed expression. They studied each other for another long minute. Her lover. Her boyfriend. Her Harlan. And more than that, she was his now, and it felt like the only thing she'd wanted in a long, long time.

  They curled together to sleep once Harlan extinguished the fire they’d left in the other room, and his bedroom was warm and cozy from the heat of it and them combined. She really did feel like a little bird, curled in a nest of his arms and his plush, enormous bed.

  Amidst the crush of cars, she could hear her mother screaming. The cars themselves were tangled beyond repair, seemingly one twisted thing instead of separate vehicles. Viola screamed and screamed, her horror ripping the sky apart, the burnt metal and rubber smell choking Olivia where she floated, unable to run toward that horrible sound.

  Because she was the only one screaming.

  Rescuers crowded the wreck, shouting and pulling and wrenching, but Viola’s anguish drowned them out, hysteria and physical pain nothing to the sheer lack of sound coming from Travis. Just spinning, reeling silence, and Viola’s howls. They choked into sobs as Olivia fought, fought to get to her, unable to move an inch. And then they stopped, and everything was quiet.

  Everyone was gone.

  Olivia woke with a strangled sound. For a moment she had no idea where she was, and half-choked on her gasp, feeling trapped and scared in a room she didn’t recognize in the dark.

  “Olivia?” She started violently, drawing away from the voice before her consciousness kicked in and she realized it was him. Harlan. She pitched forward instead, burying herself in his chest as his arms went around her. He held her tight, sweaty as she was, while she cried and cried. She hadn’t had this dream before. They’d never been nearly so graphic, so horrible, about her family. This had felt real, like she could smell and sense the wreck right in front of her. When she stopped to choke back her tears, she realized Harlan was making soft shushing sounds, soothing her in time to his strokes against her back. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, though she knew she was salty and sour with fear. “Nightmare?”

  She nodded, drew in a shaky breath, nodded again. She could barely see him in the darkness of the night, but she drew strength from what she could see: the profile of his strong nose, the glint of his concerned eyes. “They’re not usually so bad. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry,” he offered back, sounding heartsick. “New beds always do that to me, too. I should have left a light on or something. Do you want to talk about it?” He sat up and fumbled for the lamp on the nightstand, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  “No, wait. You have nightmares too?” Of course he did, the things he’d seen. It just hadn’t occurred to her that he might share in the terror that made her afraid to sleep some nights. “Are yours… about your dad?”

  He twisted his mouth, now stroking back the hair stuck with sweat to her forehead. “Yeah, and about some of the things I’ve seen. It’s okay, girl. I don’t think anyone could live so close to death and move on without some nightmares.”

  She sighed, closing her eyes and letting his attentions soothe her. “I just hate it. I hate my imagination, my memories.”

  “I know.” He was quiet for a moment, and had nearly soothed her back to sleep when he added, “I can’t erase those… but I’ll give you enough happy memories to crowd them out, if you let me.”

  She almost cried. His words were sweet, but more than that, he meant it. She could see that. Could see a future stretching forward with more than she’d imagined.

  “I'd like that,” she said finally. “I'd like to do the same for you. And… I’m sorry I got your sheets gross.”

  His laugh was warm and genuine. “We were sweating earlier, too, l
ass. I'm probably the grosser one.”

  She didn't agree, but pulled him up anyway so they could shower.

  They kept the lights low, not wanting to interrupt the cocoon of night for anything. He ran the taps hot, and they took turns standing under the stream of water. He took his time scrubbing soap over her body, clearly appreciating her with his hands, and she did the same with the parts of him she could reach. It felt good to rub the nightmares away, to replace the lingering ghost of burnt rubber with Harlan's woodsy body wash. It felt like he was wrapping her in his scent, gathering her in a warm, safe, blanket of masculinity. Whether from his attentions or the warm water, by the time they were clean again she felt calmer, steadier.

  Olivia admired him openly as he tilted his face into the spray to rinse off, the body he worked so hard for solid-packed, long, and lean. His impossibly wide shoulders, the dip of his hips, the compact muscle of his legs and ass. Water sluiced down his defined stomach, gathering in the darkened hair there and running down the trail on his stomach to his groin. It didn't look as big as it had felt before, but even at rest, his cock was still in perfect proportion to the rest of his enormous frame.

  Tentatively, she reached for it. It was still new, touching him freely, but she wanted to start. To know his body like hers, not just in a sexual way but in an intimate, close one. This was a good place to start, it seemed, because he turned toward her. The water still streamed over his face, his eyes intense as his hair flattened around his face. She marveled at the reactions he gave her, his eyes flaring as he let her take him into her hands.

  They drew closer, chests and foreheads pressed together until her hand was trapped between them. He kisses her then, and warm water slid through her mouth along with his tongue. He pressed her carefully against the tile, and she made a noise when her shoulder found its cool surface. The contrast of its coolness and the heat of Harlan and he showed had few spinning, senses dizzying and disparate all together.

  His hands were searching her, smoothing over her, and when his arms wrapped around her it took a moment to realize she was being lifted, wrapped up as she was in sensation. He nestled her against him, and she held onto his waist with her legs out of sheer instinct, though she knew he'd never drop her. He took his time kissing her where she was deliciously trapped up against him, his cockhead pressed against the center of her, making her wiggle her hips toward him in a most unladylike fashion.

  His chuckle echoed around them, and when he finally drove upward, so did her cries. Pinned by his arms and his dick and her own pleasure-driven immobility, it was all she could do to hang on. She pressed her face into his neck, letting him take her where he would, focused only on the place they were joined. His fingers found her then, working between them, coaxing her closer and closer toward the swirling thing approaching. She realized she was biting his shoulder and let go, kissing it in apology, half-mindless. He moaned with her when she swiped her tongue over it, shifting her in his arms and changing the angle of their coupling so that she was being driven up and down against his fingers, up and down on his cock.

  She came undone so suddenly that she melted in his arms, nearly collapsing against his chest. He simply shifted her, cradling her against his chest, and she held on tight.

  He let her slip down his body and spent himself into the swirling waters at the bottom of the tub. They stayed under the spray for a moment, coming down. Olivia kissed his cheek; Harlan kissed her head.

  He bundled her into a huge grey towel, rubbing her until she giggled and tried to escape. He swooped her up then, carrying her to the bed and depositing her in it, towel and all. “I can walk, you know,” she teased, but she secretly loved it. She had been tall since sixth grade, and had never really thought she'd date someone so prone to carrying her around - never really thought someone would be big enough, strong enough that they could.

  “It’s those hollow bird bones,” he teased back, his voice rough and rumbling. She hoped it was from exhaustion, that she'd worn him out. “You're lighter than air.”

  She laughed and reached up. He tucked them in together, both of them tossing towels onto the wood floor in favor of curling up naked under the sheets.

  She tucked into his arms, feeling like she was under an electric blanket, inside and out. Their legs tangled together, and Olivia ran her fingers over his arm hair, looking up at him. He kissed her again, slow and soft.

  This time, she slept through the night, without a single dream. She simply slept, safe and secure in the knowledge that she was safe in Harlan's embrace.

  Chapter 21

  Olivia floated through the next day. From Old English Narrative to Lyric Poetry to Verse Romance to Middle English Drama, she tore through her work with an enthusiasm that was in direct contrast to the way she usually struggled to school her swirling thoughts.

  From the computer lab, she wrote an entire draft of her essay and was halfway through outlining her next one before pausing for lunch. She'd woken up late in Harlan's bed, tangled hopelessly and deliciously against a Harlan who had been very happy to see her. It had taken them too long to get out of bed for her to have breakfast, so she was actually starving.

  A quick text later, Olivia met Tiffany at the grassy quad between the Language and Lit buildings. They walked together to the food truck that always parked nearby, a trendy empanada spot that was actually run by someone Travis had been in school with. It was strange to see how old his old friends were now, to think of her forever-little brother alive and the same age, but today it just made Olivia smile to think of an older, handsomer Travis.

  They didn't chat about anything in particular, mostly catching up on classes from the bench they were eating on. It was tucked into a corner of the campus, in a quieter area under beautiful trees. Seeing them made Olivia think of her pond visit with Harlan. Blushing, she confessed to Tiffany what the other girl had guessed but been too polite to ask. It was nice to talk to Tiffany about being with Harlan, because she delighted along Olivia without asking for any details like Winnie might, and Laurel definitely would. Olivia wasn't one to discuss her sex or even love life in public, but simply confirming their existence felt amazing. Felt healthy. They never really talked about it, as the girls knew to give her space, but she was sure they heard her nightmares sometimes. Tiffany seemed genuinely happy for her, in a way that was more than casual. It was like Olivia had been projecting her hurt more than she realized, too wrapped up in hurting to do a good enough job of acting okay. The thought rankled, but Olivia decided not to think about it too much.

  After lunch she went back to the computer lab, full and happy and ready to contact Harlan. He was at work again, so she wasn't expecting a response, but she sent him a short greeting anyway. When he didn't answer as quickly as he usually did, she typed his name into the computer.

  The first thing to come up was his professional headshot, which looked frankly forward at the camera. It was odd to see him dressed up, even from the shoulders up, but she still smiled to see his solemn face. She loved knowing that she could make those serious eyes light up with a smile, that she'd had that same face snuggled into her shoulder that morning, had that face between her thighs last night. She didn't see the scars anymore, not until she'd already taken in those eyes, the quirk of his mouth that lifted into mirth and dropped back down into seriousness. If they were the ugliest things about him, she still thought he was the best, the handsomest man she'd ever met.

  She hadn't even added Harlan on Facebook yet, and when she tabbed over she wasn't surprised to see that he had a minimal profile, most of his photos from group shots he'd been tagged in. His profile picture was the same gym shot, which made her imagine that he'd been forced to set up the page for work. She clicked around for a while to see if she could uncover any ex-girlfriends, frowning to herself as she remembered his stories. Luckily, he didn't have any glaring red flags or gorgeous exes to be found, and she added him with one decisive click.

  He accepted at the same time her phone lit with
a text. Friends now?

  Sounds like a downgrade she responded, smiling a little to think that he was her boyfriend. It seemed like such a silly word, but it still warmed her inside out.

  Good point. A second later, a relationship request popped up on her screen. She laughed aloud, and was shushed by another student. Chagrined, Olivia settled for grinning at her screen like an idiot. She accepted it and marveled at having Harlan's face on her profile.

  Now it's official! she joked to him, feeling light.

  One step toward being that old married couple he joked back, which made her stomach do a funny flip.

  Instead of telling him that, though, she settled for that was a great date.

  I was thinking maybe next we go to a real restaurant. Not a diner or breakfast spot. Then maybe head back to the hills? I can pack the truck bed with blankets if you like stars.

  Olivia sighed happily. Was every day going to be like this, with something to look forward to with Harlan? She certainly hoped so. I would love that, she answered, feeling lighter than air.

  It’s a date, said the next text, followed by Lunch over, gotta head back in. See you tonight?

  She confirmed then slipped her phone back into her bag. She was determined to finish the second half of her outline, but her mind kept wandering back to Harlan. Would they have sex again? She thought maybe not, after last night - and that morning - but a part of her couldn't wait to. She'd never felt that way, but then, she'd never been made to feel the way she did with Harlan. Satiated, safe, adored. She'd be happy just talking, though. They still had to much to learn about each other, and she couldn't wait to know it all.

  When her phone went off again, she reached for it quickly, assuming Harlan had extended his lunch break. Until she saw it, of course, recognizing the words before her eyes even landed on the name. Words she knew would never come from Harlan. Words that could only have come from Tomer.

  Damn, you’ve really fallen, huh? Nice new boyfriend, where’s his face?