by Etan, Cher
“So you like…work out a lot, huh?” she said sulkily.
“Pretty much,” he replied smugly. He put her down gently on an armchair in his living room and the crossed over to pour himself a drink.
“Shall I pour you some tonic without the gin?” he asked.
“I’ll have a lime and tonic if you have it,” she said.
He nodded and poured, adding ice before bringing her the drink. He sat on the arm of her chair, regarding her speculatively.
“What do you think about sealing the deal tonight?” he asked her.
“Sealing what deal?” she asked as her heart stopped. She knew very well what deal.
“I can have a justice of the peace here in twenty minutes flat. Jensen’s around somewhere to act as witness. What do you say? Marry me?”
“What about the pre-nup and agreement and all that shit?” Ava asked. She could hardly hear for how hard her heart was beating.
“I have the papers here all ready for your signature,” he said. Ava regarded him with suspicion.
“You’ve been planning this for a while haven’t you?” she said. He shrugged.
“I like to be prepared,” he said.
Ava thought about it for all of five minutes. What did she have to lose after all? Right now she was at rock bottom. She and Tristan got on like a house on fire…everything else would be handled.
“Okay,” she said. Tristan stood up with a clap.
“Great. You just relax over there, I’ll get things ready. Anyone you want to invite to witness?”
“Yeah. Bob and Joe Black.”
“Better get them on the phone now then.”
Ava was already nodding and fishing the phone out from her bag.
*****
“You’ve lost your damned mind!” Jensen whisper-shouted at him.
“Have I?” Tristan asked with disinterest as he straightened his tie and gathered papers together, “I don’t see it.”
Jensen sighed heavily but said no more. He simply snatched the papers out of Tristan’s hands and went to get Ava to sign them.
*****
“Have you lost your damned mind?” Bob asked as he entered Tristan’s penthouse, Joe Black in a basket.
“Yeah I have. Nice to see you too,” Ava answered leading him to the living room.
“This is a mistake and you know it,” Bob said.
“You were the one who said he should step up to the plate,” she whispered back.
“I didn’t mean this,” Bob protested. Ava turned to fix him with a glare.
“Could you shut up and get with the program please? You’re upsetting Joe Black.”
“Yeah, okay, sure,” Bob said with sarcasm dripping from every word. He was dressed up in his ‘funeral’ suit though so Ava figured he was on board with being a witness anyway. She grabbed Joe Black’s basket and released him. He promptly leaped out and began to chase something no one else could see.
Ava sighed, “I haven’t told Tristan that Joe Black will be moving in too.”
“Excuse me what!?” Bob rounded on her eyes bobbing out of his face.
“Hey; you’re his uncle, I’m his mommy. He comes with me.”
“But…you already have another baby on the way; why can’t I keep Joe?”
“You can visit any time you like,” Ava soothed just as the doorbell rang. The Justice of the Peace was here.
*****
The ceremony was relatively clinical. Ava changed out of her black dress because she wasn’t about to get married in a black dress however good it looked. She was therefore dressed in a white tuxedo that looked surprisingly good on her. She stood with Tristan in his navy blue suit and listened to the Justice of the Peace recite her bit.
“We are assembled here in the presence of these witnesses to celebrate the joining of this man and this woman in the unity of marriage. There are no obligations on earth sweeter or tender than those you are about to assume. There are no vows more solemn than those you are about to make. There is no human institution more sacred than that of the home you are about to form. True marriage is the holiest of all earthly relationships. The state of matrimony is based on this deep, invisible union of two souls who seek to find completion in one another. Do you understand this?”
“Yes.” Both Tristan and Ava chorused.
“Will you please face each other and join hands?”
They did as they were bid, hands linking in front of them. Jensen and Bob both sighed in united resignation.
“Tristan Carrington will you take this woman, whose hands you hold, choosing her alone to be your wedded wife? Will you live with her in the state of true matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, through good times and bad, in sickness and in health, honor her at all times, and be faithful to her?” she asked.
Tristan smiled, “I will.”
“Ava Richards, will you take this man, whose hands you hold, choosing him alone to be your wedded husband? Will you live with him in the state of true matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, through good times and bad, in sickness and in health, honor him at all times, and be faithful to him?”
“I will,” she replied and her voice shook only a little.
“As you take these preliminary vows, Tristan and Ava, I would have you remember:
To love is to come together from the pathways of our past and then move forward...Hand in hand, along the uncharted roads of our future, ready to risk, to dream, and to dare.... And always believe that all things are possible with faith and love (in God) and in each other.”
Tristan and Ava kept their eyes on each other the entire time she spoke.
“Will you repeat after me?” the Justice asked and they nodded.
“I Tristan Carrington take you Ava Richards to be my wife, to love and cherish, from this day forward, and thereto pledge you my faith.” Tristan repeated the words after the Justice. There seemed to be a weight in his chest which just dissolved at the words.
“I, Ava Richards, take you Tristan Carrington, to be my husband, to love and to cherish, from this day forward, and thereto pledge you my faith.” Ava repeated the words after the Justice of Peace, feeling weightless once they were spoken. It was a curious relief that suffused her and she felt that she was truly not alone in this.
“I understand you have brought rings as a token of your sincerity?” the Justice asked and Ava widened her eyes at Tristan wondering if he’d thought of that. It was Jensen who stepped forward and put a white gold band in her hand, and Tristan’s.
“Tristan, will you repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed. Let it ever be to us a symbol of our love.” He spoke the words after her, slipping the ring on her finger.
“ Ava, will you repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed. Let it ever be to us a symbol of our love.” She did so with no hesitation.
“In as much as you, Tristan, and you Ava, have consented together in the union of matrimony and you have pledged your faith each to the other in the presence of God and this company, now by the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you HUSBAND AND WIFE! YOU MAY KISS THE BRIDE!” the Justice of Peace seemed more excited than they were.
Ava looked at Tristan and he looked back at her. Then he leaned slowly forward and placed his lips chastely on hers. She leaned into it though and what started out as a mere peck became something a little more intimate; a little more intense. Tristan’s hands inched around her waist and pulled her closer, fitting her snugly against his torso. Her hands snaked around his neck if only to anchor herself. They stayed glued to each other for longer than was probably comfortable for the spectators. They broke apart at last and smiled sheepishly at each other. Jensen stepped forward.
“May I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Carrington,” he announced as if the room was full of people. Bob and the Justice clapped accordingly.
“There are hors de oeuvres and cocktails in the kitchen if you will all follow me.” He continued to cheers from Bob and a high five from Tristan. They all trooped to the ki
tchen where Jensen handed Ava a pink non alcoholic drink and poured champagne for the rest.
“To the bride and groom,” he intoned. Everyone toasted and drank and then there was laughter and everyone talking at once as they consumed the delicacies that Jensen had conjured from somewhere.
*****
It felt good, walking into her bedroom, but it didn't feel like home.
Ava didn't say this, because she could see the light in Tristan's eyes from the moment they were left alone. But she couldn’t forget it, either, and she couldn’t be at ease in here the way clearly Tristan wanted her to.
That was not to say the penthouse was not nice. It was. It was very, very nice. Ava hadn't figured on having a closet the size of her old bedroom ever, but she was dealing. Having a bathroom whose only drawback was that it was difficult to choose between soaking in the tub or lounging in the shower was a luxury only someone who had grown up with a tiny bathroom can appreciate; and Tristan wasn't kidding about the water pressure either.
As a home base, the penthouse had a lot going for it. This place had a huge kitchen, and while Ava wasn’t planning on using it much, she meant to sure as hell reap the benefits. This place had its own library, she could practically live in the den; if she wanted to, she could probably install a studio in one of the spare rooms no problem. This place had class. This place had convenience. This place had a giant goddamned Erard piano.
And none of it felt real.
The penthouse had twelve-foot-thick, radiation-stopping, poured concrete walls. Ava guessed they were meant to make the occupants feel safe. The penthouse was clearly set up by some foremost interior designer. It still felt cold to Ava. The penthouse was her new home much as it felt foreign and different. Ava figured she’d get used to it. It was just all new and different and she was pregnant, therefore hormonal. This too shall pass and all that.
Tristan moved inside the penthouse with a degree of relaxation Ava had not seen before. Perhaps it was because they were married now or maybe it had to do with this being the longest she’d spent in his company and he was just letting his real self show. Tristan walked around like he had the world at his feet; and likely he did after all. Ava was just feeling the teensiest bit out of place in this new world she’d been thrust into. There had only ever been one place where Ava believed implicitly in the solidity of her surroundings.
It was not a problem, exactly. Ava had lived most of her life without any serious expectation of security, unlike Tristan. Ava didn't have to believe that the penthouse would be in her life forever in order to enjoy it. It was just that she wished she could love it, because Tristan did. It would make things much easier for them both.
Chapter 10
Ava was two volumes deep in the history of Music As Seen Through the Eyes of an Opera House Conductor when Tristan plunked a plate of chicken salad down in front of her, took the chair next to Ava's, put his socked feet on the table about four inches away from Ava's food, and said, conversationally, "We should have a sex marathon."
Ava didn't choke on her coffee, but she did freeze with one hand extended toward the plate. Several seconds later, she swallowed.
"Uh."
"Think about it. We’re married now; the sex is legal. Why not have a sex marathon?" Tristan took a bite of his own sandwich. "We gotta christen the pad, girl; you and me."
Okay, so maybe that little flip in Ava's stomach was interest, and maybe when she blinked a few possibilities cross her mind, there and gone like the afterimage of a neon sign. If anything, that interest was only intensified by a twist of unaccustomed mortification. She could count the number of times she’d had sex on the fingers of one hand and have a few left over. She wasn’t quite sure she was ready for marathons just yet.
Tristan had fucked her after their wedding. They had gone to sleep directly after everyone left but then Tristan shook her awake three hours later; reached for Ava. He let out this sound that Ava wished she could scrub from her brain, and curled fiercely over her back even as he'd kissed her like he'd eat Ava if he could, thrust into her like he could crawl inside. Fast, hard, brutal in a way it hadn’t been before. It hurt like hell, and Ava got off like Vesuvius. Two weeks later, she still had bruises, and more than once she had got off on her own in the shower with one hand on her sensitive nub and the other digging into the remnants of Tristan's marks. But that was right at the start of this thing, before pregnancy had began to make itself felt. Now, she needed to play for time.
It was lucky that Tristan was getting off on what he thought was Ava being flummoxed and uptight, because otherwise these, oh, fifteen, twenty seconds that Ava'd been stammering might be awkward. As it was, Tristan was smirking with a revolting degree of self-satisfaction.
"We could try out that thing you wrote about in your diary in high school. You know, with the flashlight and—"
"Tristan!" Ava yelped.
"Aw, Ava you're blushing."
"I am not."
"You really are."
"Shut up."
"Didn't use the magic word."
"Shut the fuck up."
"You're a true lady, Ava."
Ava clamped her lips together and shot Tristan a pissy look because goddamn it, she was blushing, and the harder she tried to stop the hotter her face got.
"Trying to work here," she muttered, hunching up over her book.
The intensity of her own embarrassment had caught her off guard. Tristan liked to tease her about being a prude, but they both knew it was not true. Sure, she wasn’t very experienced but she was game to try anything…once. Why just last night, they were watching the game when Tristan suggested they mutually masturbate each other. Yes, she couldn’t look him in the eye the whole time and he thought that was adorable but she’d got him off just fine in the end. Of course it could be that she was so distracted by his tongue in her…that she hadn’t really noticed what the hell she was doing.
Yet somehow, Tristan sitting across from her at their table proposing they properly break in their new home was the kinkiest thing Ava'd ever heard.
"Sex marathon, Ava." Tristan balled up his napkin and lobbed it at Ava's head.
"Here? In this super classy penthouse looking like it was lifted whole from different strokes? Such a wholesome show too…"
"Ha. I bet it wouldn’t be the first time that set saw some action. Didn’t you read that book Willis wrote?" Tristan took his feet off the table and picked up a sheaf of Ava's notes.
"You read the book Willis wrote? Now that’s just wrong," Ava said dryly. She was pretty turned on, but she didn't have to admit it.
"Ava, are you saying you're not woman enough for a sex marathon?"
Ava narrowed her eyes. "That's your play here? Seriously?"
Tristan gave her a sunny smile and sucked some trace amount of chicken salad off his fingers. "It's okay, you know. A lot of girls are just not interested in sex once the ring is on their finger."
"Hilarious, Tristan."
Now Tristan was doodling on Ava's fucking work, probably a cock and balls and/or a pair of boobs. "If you screw up my notes—"
"You'll spank me?"
Ava jolted upright and the book clattered to the floor under the table. Not because of the lame innuendo; because Tristan's foot was suddenly in her crotch. "Tristan," she said in warning.
"Well, I guess I don't have to mail-order another bride just yet." He said, eyes on the pin points that were her nipples.
Ava took hold of Tristan's ankle and deliberately removed the foot from her lap before getting down under the table to retrieve her book. "Come on, Ava," she heard Tristan say through the tabletop. "All work and no play makes you a cranky hormonal bundle of nerves."
Ava snaked one arm out and up to slap the book back onto the table. "I guess we'll just have to see."
She had got Tristan's spread legs before her. Solid hardwood inched over her head didn't give Ava a lot of room to work with, but something about the view was appealing. She could smell the clean
laundry smell off of Tristan's blue jeans from here.
Tristan jumped when Ava wrapped one hand around each ankle and ran them slowly up the inside of Tristan's calves. Touch through fabric is better than skin-on-skin, sometimes. Ava ought to know; Tristan's used it on her once or twice.
"Next time you're trying to sell somebody on a wild orgy, you might want to brush up on your foreplay," Ava said. "Footsie's only kinky in public."
"Yeah, whatever. Just try not to knock yourself out cold on the goddamned table." Ava slid her hands forward and rocked her thumbs into the inside of Tristan's thighs, just above the knee. "Fuckshitsonofabitch."
"I'm sorry, Tristan, tell me again about how repressed I am?"
She could feel Tristan's eyes on the top of her head but didn't look up. Flexing her hands over his thighs she pressed her nose into the inseam of his jeans below one knee, breathed in, and felt the shiver.
Tristan's voice was gravelly. "You going to do something anytime soon or wh—"
Ava took hold of the chair leg and thrust it back. The extra couple of feet gave her room to come up between Tristan's legs, pop the button on his jeans, and hook her thumbs into the waistband; Tristan grunted and wriggled a little to help Ava pull the fabric open far enough. His cock was rising through the slit of his boxers, and Ava could work around them, but she hated getting mouthfuls of cotton, so she reached around to take Tristan's Gerber from the table top, snapped it open, and cut through the boxers' elastic before Tristan could do more than hiss at the touch of metal on his belly. Ava closed the blade. Tristan was turned on enough that his hips were already rocking up, but he still shoved one hand under the table and snapped his fingers impatiently until Ava slapped the knife back into his palm.
Then Ava swallowed him down.
Ava liked giving blow jobs. There was something about it that was almost meditative; she could drop away into a certain space inside her head, where Tristan's groans and panting echoed just that bit more loudly and the smell of him replaced oxygen. She slid her hands around and under Tristan's ass, dug her fingers into the denim, and pulled him up, further into her mouth. Loved it. Loved pulling those sounds out of him; it made her feel strangely powerful.
