Escape From The Green

by Gadziala, Jessica

  "This is the wash room," he told me, opening a tiny door that had a small table which would house a wash basin and pitcher when I acquired or made one. There was the simple box with a closed lid that was the composting toilets they all had. "And, finally, your bedroom," he told me, voice going a little low as he pushed open a door.

  Size-wise, it was maybe only a few feet larger than Nesta and Rayna's bedroom with a small fireplace to keep warm, the fire dancing happily, making the bedroom a good twenty degrees warmer than the main room with the banked fire and open windows.

  The bed was across from the fireplace, my clothing chest at the foot, small tables on each side to hold drinks or snacks, whatever you might have while in bed.

  The mattress was a good eight inches thick, likely to squeeze down to two or three under weight, but a lovely deep purple color that must have come from berries of some sort.

  "Try it out with me?" I asked, putting down my notebook and pen on the chest, reaching out toward him, fingers slipping his jacket off his shoulders even as I toed out of my shoes.

  His hands rose slowly, tentatively, helping me out of my jacket, then pulling my body to his, sealing his lips over mine.

  The heat bloomed through my body, spreading until I could feel it in my fingertips, the soles of my feet, the top of my scalp.

  My feet slid backward. I wasn't even sure if they did so on their own or if Drake was urging it. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that my legs met the side of the bed, and Drake's arm went around my back, holding me to him as he turned, went down on the mattress, pulling me down on top of him.

  Free to do so without the constant worry of having to stop, of getting to a point of what felt like no return, then needing to retreat, Drake's hands roamed my body, sliding down my back, over my ass, down my thighs, then up again, sinking in behind my knees, forcing them to cock, making me sit upward, my butt hitting my heels, looking down at him as he looked up at me.

  "If I was misunderstanding you when you invited me to try out the bed, it might be kindest to tell me now," he said, even though his voice sounded pained at the idea of having to stop again.

  "No misunderstanding," I told him, raising my arms over my head, silently urging him to get more of me.

  His strong body folded upward, fingers sliding deliciously down my sides before snagging the hem of my shirt, drawing it up inch by inch. The subtle brush of his fingertips on my belly made a shiver course through me.

  When the material was over my shoulders, his chest pressed to mine as he reached up to free my arms, my hardened nipples brushing over the material of her shirt.

  Shirt gone, his hands slid down the backs of my arms, then down my back, settling at my hips as his eyes held mine, not searching, not looking over the newly exposed skin.

  Unsure what to do, my hands went for his shirt, pulling it up clumsily, my fingers and hands much less skilled at patience than his. But it fell to the floor along with my shirt, and my arms went around his back, pulling his body to mine.

  His hiss met my whimper as his bare skin pressed into mine.

  My lips pressed to his, slow and sweet and building fast much like the need moving through my body.

  My hips ground down on him, whimpering when his hardness pressed into my belly instead of between my thighs.

  On a sound that I could have sworn was a chuckle, his lips ripped from mine, his hand moving up to my shoulder, pressing until I lowered backward, my back hitting the mattress, my legs uncurling from under me to frame his hips as he moved up to his knees, towering over me, eyes finally starting to roam.

  Down my neck, then chest, pausing.

  His hand moved down from my shoulder, thumb moving out to gently slide over my hardened nipple, making my air catch before rushing out.

  His hand closed over my breast, squeezing gently before rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, stoking the fire burning inside me.

  I hadn't known I could be so sensitive, never having had the occasion to learn such a thing about myself.

  But each brush of his finger sent off sparks that spread through me.

  His other hand went to my other breast, giving it the same seemingly never-ending attention, making my back arch off the mattress, my hips to writhe in need.

  Only then did he lean forward, lower down, circle his tongue over one of the hardened peaks, making my hands slide up his back, clawing into the skin as a new, unexpected wave of desire coursed through me.

  Slide.

  Suck.

  Nip.

  The beautiful torment felt endless, felt like it went on forever over each peak until my breasts felt full, overly sensitive, the skin flushed and heated.

  His lips moved between, inching down, kissing the line down my stomach, his stubble grazing over the flesh, setting it ablaze in a way that said I would be left with a burn over the soft skin in the morning that I could feel whenever my clothes would brush over me.

  His fingers snagged my pants, gently easing them down my thighs, over my knees, calves.

  Sitting back, he pressed my knees into my chest, giving him access to my ankles, pulling the material free.

  Naked.

  It was right then I realized I was completely bared to him, giving him something I had never given another soul before.

  I should have felt strange, exposed, vulnerable. Or, at least, that was what others might tell me I should feel in this situation for the first time.

  But I couldn't find the smallest bit of nervousness, hesitation.

  This was Drake we were talking about.

  He'd been nothing but sweet, patient, understanding.

  There was no reason to fear anything with him. Not even this.

  He would be good to me.

  He always was.

  Nothing but.

  So there was no prickling of uncertainty as his hands found my knees, pushing them apart, pressing my thighs to the mattress, spread open to him fully.

  His gaze held mine for a moment, looking for something - maybe hesitation. Not finding it, his gaze slowly slid downward, over my chest, belly, lower, eyes fixed on the most intimate part of me.

  His hand slid down my leg, up the soft skin of my inner thigh, then planting at the crease where thigh met hip, taking a slow, deep, steadying breath.

  His fingers shifted inward, the pad of his thumb sliding up my cleft, making a shiver rack through me at the strange almost ticklish sensation before his thumb pressed expertly into my clit, sending a shock of pleasure through my body, making a choked sound escape me, dragging Drake's gaze back up to my face, eyes heavily hooded, watching me as his thumb did another delicious swipe.

  "More?" he asked, sounding like he might combust if I said no.

  As if I were even capable.

  I was too far gone to even think about going back.

  "Yes." My voice didn't sound like my own. It was airy, light, but beneath all that, raw, almost emotional.

  A low, rumbling noise moved through his chest as his hand shifted, another finger sliding down my cleft as his thumb continued to work circles around my clit.

  My belly tightened when I felt his finger tease around the entrance to my body, pressing, pulsing, making me oddly aware of the hollowness inside before his finger finally applied more pressure, seeking access.

  My walls tightened around him as his finger slid into the hilt, causing this almost overwhelming need for movement, for friction.

  "Drake," my voice moaned, needy, desperate.

  A small smile pulled at his eyes as he gave me what I needed, finger sliding out, then pressing in again, dragging a moan out of me. "More," I demanded, hands dragging claw marks into his arms.

  Drake said nothing as his breathing got more labored, his finger thrusting more quickly, pulling fully out once, thrusting back in with two fingers, giving me a twinge of pain as my body adjusted to the intrusion before the pinch melted away, lost in the building pressure, the promise of oblivion.

  My hands le
ft his arms, sliding down his chest, stomach, then snagging the front of his pants, dragging the material wide to free him, to bare him to me.

  His cock was full, thick, straining with his own need for release, big enough to make a small twinge of uncertainty move through me even as Drake's fingers started twisting inside me, widening me, preparing me.

  My hand closed around him, my walls tightening around his fingers at the surprised hiss that escaped him.

  My hand stoked down his hard length, watching as his eyes slid closed, a tremor moving through his body at the contact.

  "Drake, please," I begged, wiggling my hips around, wanting him inside me more than I was sure I had ever wanted anything before.

  "Honey..."

  He was trying to reason with me, slow me down.

  But there was no slowing down.

  The need inside me was overwhelming, demanding. And I didn't have the strength to try to hold it back.

  "Drake, please," I demanded, hands moving to his hips, pulling, dragging him downward.

  There was the slightest of hesitations before he came over me, lips claiming mine as his hardness slid against my cleft, pressing into my clit.

  His hips shifted as he lifted his upper body slightly, letting his eyes hold mine.

  His hand moved between us, grabbing his cock, sliding it down my cleft, pressing into my entrance.

  An acute burning sensation met the slow invasion, my body fighting his size, struggling to adjust.

  "Honey, breathe," Drake demanded softly, brows drawn together in concern as a pained whimper escaped me. "You need to breathe," he added when I didn't immediately pull in a breath. I did then, slow and shaky. "Again," he demanded.

  Focusing on that, my body seemed to relax.

  "There," he said with what sounded like relief as he pressed deeper, claiming me fully.

  There was pain that faded faster than it came on, settling deep beneath the clawing desire inside, the need for movement once again.

  When my legs crossed around his lower back, my hands sinking into his shoulders, his thread of control finally seemed to snap.

  His movements were slow at first, aware of the tenderness.

  But as my gasps became whimpers that turned into moans, his thrusts got faster, more demanding, building an intensity inside me, and there were no words to describe it.

  "Come for me, Amy," he demanded, voice rough with his own need for release.

  His hand slid between us, pressing into my clit, pushing me to the edge faster.

  I teetered there at the precipice, heartbeat paused, breath choked.

  He sank back in.

  His thumb swiped.

  And I was pushed over.

  I fell.

  Crashed.

  Came apart at impact.

  His name cried out of my lips as I buried my head in his neck, arms holding on as I kept coming apart.

  Only when the waves ease did Drake slam deep, body jolting, my name hissing from between his lips as he came.

  His body came down on me, an oppressive, welcome pressure even if it was making breathing more of a wish than an actuality.

  Both of us struggled for composure, for steady heartbeats, for bodies not so overwhelmed by sensation.

  "Shh," he consoled as he moved, body shifting, as his cock rubbed against sore muscles as I lost him. "It's okay," he added, curling my body to the side to face his, wrapping his arms around me, holding me close as the haze of desire left me, as reality slowly came back. "You alright?" he asked, hands sliding gently down my spine. "Honey?" he prompted when I hadn't been able to articulate anything, my mind spinning in too many directions at once.

  My lips pressed into his chest, eyes closing tight to fight off the sting I felt building there. "I'm glad it was you," I told him, meaning it more than I had ever meant anything before.

  "It will only get better as your body adjusts," he told me, giving my body a squeeze.

  "I don't think that is possible," I told him, warm and sleepy as my body came down.

  "It is. I promise." He rolled me onto my back, looming over me slightly, pressing his wide palm into my belly. "But next time, we need to be careful," he told me, making his point clear.

  We hadn't used any kind of precaution.

  They weren't difficult to come by.

  In fact, Nesta had been talking just a few days ago to her mother about helping to make a new supply for the clan, made from rubber tree and thistle.

  Oh, yes, Aya had said, nodding. I forgot it was that time of the year again. I will come and help as well.

  "Are you worried?" he asked, fingers tickling over the skin of my belly.

  "About a baby?" I asked, turning my head to catch his gaze.

  "Yeah."

  My lips pressed together for a long moment, thinking. "Not worried, no," I decided, shaking my head. "I would prefer to wait for that, but if the fates have something else in mind, I would be happy to carry your baby, Drake."

  His eyes went gooey at that. "I'd be happy for you to carry it too, honey. But we're going to go ahead and use something from now on. We're new. We need time to... be new."

  "New," I mused. "I feel like we have been together forever already," I told him, shrugging.

  "We've been through a lot," he agreed.

  "It was all worth it," I told him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips.

  "Yeah, it was," he agreed, voice fierce. "So, how's the bed?" he asked, smile warm.

  "You're in it. So it's perfect." I paused, pushing back the twinge of insecurity in my belly, reminding myself that we were beyond that now. "Would you come stay with me here?" I asked, forcing my eyes to hold his, watching as the red got brighter.

  "If you'd have me."

  "I wouldn't have it any other way."

  And so we moved in together.

  And we made a home together.

  And before we knew it, Ostara was here.

  And it was time to leave it.

  TEN

  Amy

  "Mom, we have enough food for two weeks. We're only going to be gone half a day," Drake insisted as Aya shoved more food pouches into his pockets.

  "Just in case you get sidetracked. You should always be prepared," she insisted, frantically rubbing her hands down her thighs, over her belly, wringing her skirt between her fingers.

  Nervous.

  She was nervous.

  Scared that her son that she had just gotten back was going to leave again.

  She'd asked why we wouldn't bring someone else with us. Kieran had volunteered, but everyone knew he would never be allowed to leave now that he was an elder. Tsar had been another choice, young enough and reckless, and happy for an adventure.

  But the elders had voted four-to-one that if we were going to risk ourselves, we were only going to risk ourselves. No one else would get caught up in our troubles.

  It was a fair point, I guessed, even if I bristled a bit at the idea that wanting the freedom to come and go as you chose was somehow anyone's business but our own, that it was ridiculous that they could choose if others were allowed to leave if they wanted to.

  Backward.

  There was still a bit of backwardness in our clan.

  I guess maybe that was the price you paid for complete and utter safety.

  No one seemed to question if that was a fair trade. Giving up freedom for safety.

  I guess it depended on how much you had to lose.

  My hand brushed over my belly, flat, nothing blooming within it, as evidenced by the moonsickness that had greeted me that very morning.

  I won't deny a small twinge of disappointment even if the more rational part of me understood that this fate was for the best. There was so much to do. There was so much work awaiting us. I didn't want to be tilling fields while fighting off waves of nausea.

  I wanted a chance to experience the life of a member of the clan. I wanted to till, plant, harvest, preserve. I wanted to learn how to grow potatoes in the root cell
ar, how to dry tea leaves and chamomile flowers for tea to keep our insides warm in the cold months.

  Then maybe the following fall I could consider something as life-changing as motherhood.

  "Here, sis," Nesta said, shouldering in beside me, holding out a small glass vile to me full of a yellowish oil. "It won't taste all that great, but it will ease your ails," she told me, knowing about my ails because I had needed to go to her about supplies, not having packed any myself.

  "Primrose oil?" I asked, pulling off the cap to sniff it.

  "I swear by it. We will show you how to make a supply for yourself when the flowers are in bloom again. All in good time. Have a nice trip," she told me, giving me a smile that pulled a bit, making me wonder if she was perhaps envious, if she had ever fostered hopes about seeing a world outside of the veil they were sheltered behind. "Be safe," she added, giving me a one-arm hug since she was holding her sleeping child in the other.

  "You ready?" Drake asked, exhaling hard. "We have to get out of here before there is another round of goodbyes," he added in a small voice near my ear.

  So with that, his hand closed over mine, and we walked away from the people who had always been his, but were rapidly becoming my, family.

  Eager as I was to see Smoky and Sal again, there was a swirling feeling in my stomach at the idea of leaving our new home.

  But it was a quick trip.

  And I could get word to my siblings that things were getting bad in The Green but that I was okay, that I was happy and safe.

  I hoped the same could be said of them.

  After all they had been through.

  With all that stood before them.

  "Oh this feels weird," I told Drake as we moved through the veil, feeling a yanking sensation at my back, like it was trying to pull me back in.

  "It's because you're one of us now. The veil recognizes that."

  We came through the same clearing we had stepped in from weeks before, finding the ground clear and soggy, our shoes sinking into the mud leftover from so much snow melting so quickly.

  Above us, the sun filtered in through the trees where new buds were already forming, just waiting for the weather to stay constant enough to allow them to burst to life.