A soft bite on the underside of my thumb brought me back to the present and I saw that the hand that had reached up to push away Elliot's hair had slipped down to cup his face. When my thumb had strayed close to his mouth, he'd obviously decided to take advantage.
"You taste pink," he informed me in a tone that I think was supposed to be mischievous, but which fell short of the mark. Probably something to do with the position of my other hand down his pants.
"Pink?" I repeated, before realising I was playing out his role from the other night.
"Like fairy floss and soap, strawberries and marshmallows." He sucked my thumb into his mouth, the warmth and wetness coupled with the slight scrape of his teeth making me wiggle back against the mattress. After a couple of seconds he pulled away and, like a fine wine taster making an appraisal, he nodded and proclaimed, "pink."
"Well, aren't the pair of us a regular rainbow?" I tightened my fingers on him, to reassert that I was supposed to be the one in control, and his smirk vanished as his mouth dropped down and his head tipped back.
I moved on then, starting to slowly pull at his fly, so that each release of the metal teeth caused a little tug of friction against him. I was only about halfway down when Elliot hissed my name, sounding almost like he was in pain, and a hand clamped down on mine.
I took pity on him then, and released the zip the rest of the way without ceremony, helping to push the denim down his legs until he kicked it off onto the floor. I wanted him to press his weight back on me, was more than ready to feel his skin flush against mine, but he seemed to think it was his turn to survey me. I found I was disinclined to refute his logic.
Sitting back on his haunches, he let his eyes lazily travel down my neck, across my bra and bare stomach to where my trousers impeded the rest of his view. The room was darker still now, but his focus had such heat that I knew where he was looking every step of the way.
I don't know what I was expecting, but him suddenly leaning forward and pressing a hot kiss in-between my breasts was not it. I jerked at the sensation, the move taking me so much by surprise that, for a moment, I didn't realise he'd simultaneously undone my jeans.
"Suave bugger," I muttered as I felt his fingers press lightly against the soft skin at the top of my thighs. His lips turned into a smile against me and I knew he was feeling pretty pleased with himself. I would've protested if I hadn't been pleased with him too.
He kissed a trail along the swells above my bra, moving down until he was pressing an open mouth against one and then the other of the cups, the warm heat seeping through to the sensitive areas below. I clutched at the bed sheets and worked very hard to not release any incredibly embarrassing sort of mewling noises, noises he seemed determined to coax out of me.
While one hand continued to swirl lazy patterns across my thighs, he reached up with the other and unhooked my bra with an expertise that made me quirk an eyebrow, despite myself.
He saw my reaction and, as he drew the bra down my arms and away from me, his smile was wolfish. "Practise makes perfect," he informed me, cupping my newly revealed breasts in his hands and rubbing the tips gently with his thumbs.
I met his dark eyes, seeing that, despite our starting point, they were bright with laughter and lust.
"I can expect perfection then?" I asked as I reached up to grip his pillow, anchoring myself as I started to feel like I could float away.
"Rox, honey," he moved down, kissing a path along my stomach until he reached the open v at the top of my trousers, "you can count on it."
I laughed and then cried out as his mouth settled over the already damp material at the juncture of my thighs, the teasing and touch making my body fizz in a way I'd never known it could.
This wasn't just foreplay, it was foreplay with Elliot, and it was fun and hot and unlike anything I'd ever experienced before.
I was glad of the thin barrier of material as his mouth softly suckled and his fingers stroked, it was the only thing stopping me from spinning off the edge, and I really wasn't happy to go off and leave him behind. It was this that made me plant a foot against his shoulder after a few seconds, pushing him away as I started to get too close.
He looked up at me, colour high along the top of his cheekbones, and then hooked his fingers into the elastic at the top of my knickers and pulled them and my trousers down and off my legs, collecting my socks on the way past. Before I really had time to register that he was sitting back and looking at the completely exposed length of me, he'd shucked his own briefs and pulled me up so I straddled him. My legs automatically locked around his back and my head tipped forward so that our foreheads almost, but not quite, touched.
There was nowhere to hide in this position; no room for modesty or cowardice. In contrast to our teasing before, this was a completely solemn moment, one where our eyes locked and we both acknowledged the where, what and why of what was happening.
Not able to take too much of that, I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down for another kiss, open and deep and, I have to say, about as soul-revealing as gazing intently into each other's eyes had been.
"Condom," I muttered when we finally pulled back for a breather.
It wasn't perhaps the most romantic of ways to finish a bone-deep pash, but Elliot didn't seem to mind. With one arm still holding me to him, he reached into the bedside table he hadn't flung into the wall earlier, and produced the foil packet I'd asked for.
"You sure about this?" He asked, holding the protection away for a moment as I reached for it. "I seem to remember last time you had some qualms about using my stuff. 'Probably as dysfunctional as everything else about you' you said, and it's not like today would’ve gone anywhere towards making me seem any more...functional."
I wondered if he knew how obvious it was that he wasn't talking about contraceptives anymore. I suddenly felt like crying, and dropped a quick kiss down onto his collarbone to hide it.
"Seriously," I said, once I was sure I would be able to talk through the lump in my throat, "what's the worst that could happen? I catch some incredibly posh STI? I end up having a kid with your stupidly floppy hair? I think I could deal."
I snatched the condom off him then and ripped it open, scooting back slightly so I could roll it down over him. Lying back on his pillows I opened my arms to invite him down to me. He accepted the invitation with alacrity, settling above me once more and positioning himself so I felt him nudging against me.
"Admit it," confidence restored, his voice was once again a low sexy growl in my ear, "you secretly love my floppy hair."
I gasped, clutching at his back as I felt him push forward and I stretched to accommodate him.
"Maybe I do," my whole body was on fire, liquid fire and I simultaneously ignited and melted as he slid fully into place inside me. "Just a little bit."
~*~
"Just like studying economics."
I was sweaty, tingly, satiated, and totally thinking about my economics textbooks.
I'd had a brief second's concern after we'd both hurtled over into climax about what came next. Would it get weird? Would we find that we weren't really all that keen on each other's company now the deed was out of the way? And, for the tiniest, most infinitesimal moment, would my mum be right? Was Elliot going to reveal himself to just be after one thing?
I was shamed away from those thoughts almost immediately. Elliot rolled away, sure, but he tugged me with him so that I was sprawled across his chest. He did it without fanfare, without pause, but his grip told me it was no accident.
Alright then.
"I'm sure I'm going to regret this," he said after a few seconds, his fingers absentmindedly stroking my hair, "but what's just like studying economics?"
"Having sex with you." I tapped him on the stomach to underline my words, and he let out a half sigh, half laugh.
"You know those author notes bits at the start of textbooks?" I asked, pulling a sheet up and over our bodies as the cool air started to tickle me in
sensitive places. "The ones that no-one reads? Well, I read them and they’re always so positive and insightful. Like one of my first year books had this big speech about how studying economics should revitalise and stimulate you. How it should make you rethink the world you live in and influence how you proceed.”
There was a pause and then Elliot asked, "Is this the norm for you? Quoting your textbooks after sex?"
I blushed, not because I was embarrassed by the question, but because I'd just realised that he was the first one I'd even come close to quoting economics to after sex. "No," I admitted, "this is a first."
I don't know if he understood the significance of that, but he certainly seemed to give it some thought.
"So..." he said eventually."I revitalised and stimulated you?"
I couldn't help thinking that he'd completely missed the point, but to humour him I held up my thumb and forefinger indicating a small amount. For a moment it looked like he was going laugh again, but instead, his face smoothed and he asked, in a tone that could only be described as serious, "And I made you rethink the world you live in?"
"The rich jerk from my past revealing that he's now a job-owning, post-sex hair stroker?" I asked, uncomfortably aware that I was basically saying he'd been right when he'd yelled at me about being a reverse snob. "Yep, consider some things rethought."
We lapsed into silence, but I don't think for either of us there was going to be that stereotypical 'had sex, must now sleep' thing that films always depicted. His hands still moved through my hair, and my eyes stayed resolutely open, staring into the darkness.
It was a vigil, I realised. There wasn't going to be much sleep that night.
And there she was. Nan. The stroke-affected, novelty ring clad, quite possibly currently walking through death's door, elephant in the room.
Feeling almost scared of lying there in the quiet thinking about Nan taking her journey away from us, I forced myself to speak, even as the effort just about ripped my taut throat in two.
"I was right."
Elliot took a while in replying and, when he did speak, his voice sounded blurry and far away.
"That seems to be your usual opinion." He'd clearly been in the same space as me and I appreciated that he was making the effort to make it seem like we were having one of our normal conversations. "About anything in particular this time?"
"You did have sex with me to make Nan happy." I chewed at my swollen bottom lip, suddenly wishing I hadn't broken the silence after all, but finishing with a mumbled, "I was just off on the dates."
He stiffened, drawing away from me even as we stayed pressed so close, and I wanted, more than anything, to take back my words. They were stupid, I was stupid. I'd been fishing for a reaction and I deserved the one I got.
"Nan, me...you," he said flatly. "That's economics, isn't it? Three sad birds with one stone."
I wanted to apologise, but it didn't feel like enough so, instead, I pressed a hand to his cheek, my fingers resting on the freckle up by his eye, feeling the scratch of his stubble.
"It worked with this sad bird," I told him honestly, and, when he didn't reply, I went back to chewing at my lip.
I'd just felt the first bloom of metallic blood on my tongue when Elliot reached round and gently unhooked my lip from between my teeth. The pad of his index finger rested briefly on the spot where the tiny bead of crimson pulsed and then he pulled away and let out a long sigh.
"Nan liked you straight away, you know? First thing she said to me about you was 'quick, the new housekeeper's brought something interesting into the house. Go have a look before your parents stifle it.'"
I felt one side of my mouth lift in a half attempt at a smile. "My mum had just gone into the final interview with your parents when Nan came into the kitchen," I explained. "She didn't look like the sort of person who would normally be in a house like yours and I panicked. I thought she'd come about the job as well and I told her it was already taken and to rack off."
"That would do it."
I watched as he lifted his arm and scrubbed at his hair in frustration. I thought I knew how he felt. This whole grief thing made you feel so damn impotent.
"I don't remember the first thing she said to me about you," I admitted, "but I remember her snapping at me once when I'd just started working here. I'd been going on about how useless you were and she obviously got sick of it and said 'that boy is the best thing in this house, or in any house come to that. One day you'll see that and you'll want to bite your own tongue off for the things you've just said'."
I prodded where I'd bitten through my lip and considered that maybe she'd been right, but just a little off with the location.
Elliot lay still and silent for a couple of moments and then I felt his fingers disentangle themselves from my hair and he was pulling away to sit up.
"Where’re you going?" I asked as he grabbed his t-shirt and slipped it over his head before reaching for his jeans.
"We're going to see Nan." He scooped my clothes up and chucked then across to me where I proceeded to stare at them as if I had no idea what they were or what they were for.
"But-" I started to protest, and he silenced me with a sharp look.
"This 'I remember when' stuff means jack if we haven't said goodbye," he said harshly. "So get dressed and let's go."
~*~
The house was dark and silent as we made our way down to the ground floor. The moonlight shone in through the large windows in the foyer, casting everything in a pale blue light. This, coupled with the events of the past hour or so, made everything seem sort of unreal. But it was real. Painfully so.
My heart beat faster in trepidation and it was only by fiercely reminding myself how much worse Elliot, stiff and silent beside me, must’ve been feeling, that stopped me from chickening out altogether.
There was a certain feeling of déjà vu attached to the moment we stopped outside Nan's door, standing still and staring at the wooden facade for a moment. Whereas on that first day it’d been me taking the lead, it was Elliot who took the plunge this time, pushing the door open, and me through it, in quick succession.
A dim lamp was on next to Nan's bed, sparing us the cold blue of the moonlight and doing its best to make the tableau in front of us a little cosier and less horrifying. Its best wasn't all that great, if truth be told.
I wasn't a doctor, I'd never been around someone in a palliative care situation before, and there was nothing that I could specifically say was different about Nan that night, so maybe it was some innate, human instinct that told me that she was already half gone.
I was so transfixed by this moment of understanding I was having, that when Elliot suddenly croaked, "Mum?" I started and looked at Mrs Sinclair like she'd just blinked into existence. She hadn't, of course, she'd been sitting in one of the chairs by the bed ever since we came in, her back straight, her eyes dry.
For a moment I felt guilty for having disobeyed her order to leave Nan alone, but then I realised so had she.
"It won't be long now." Chase was there too, his voice calm, his presence reassuring. "If you want to say goodbye, now's a good time."
I looked between the two Sinclairs, but neither of them made any move so I supposed I was going first.
Taking the other spare seat, I grabbed up Nan's hand, as I'd done many times over the past few days, and then held it up to my face, using our clasped hands as a shield behind which to talk.
"Hi Nan," I whispered, the pain in my throat and chest almost unbearable. "I really hope you can hear me or, if you can't, that you already know what I'm going to say. You've made my life so much better..." my voice cracked and I had to stop for a moment and swallow a few times before the words found a way to force themselves out. "I was scared of so much stuff when I met you, and then you were there, laughing in the face of everything, and it all got so much easier. Thank you for...for figuring me out before I did and letting me know that I was OK, that I'd do OK. You've always had my back and...I'm goin
g to miss you so much."
I couldn't talk after that, even though I had so much more to say, so I had to make do with pressing trembling lips against her sagged cheek and thinking fiercely about how much I loved her. I hoped that some of my thoughts would pass to her somehow.
Eventually, I pulled back, my knees buckling slightly as my head swam with the enormity of what I'd just done. Elliot was by my side in an instant, his hand gripping my shoulder tightly, holding me up when I just wanted to wimp out. For one blinding hot second I hated him for forcing me down here to say goodbye. I felt like he'd given up on Nan or, like that horrible cat in a box experiment, if we'd just stayed up in his room and not known she'd passed away it could’ve stopped it from being true.
This was too stupid for even the grief-stricken me to believe, however, and the moment passed. It left its aftertaste, though, and I knew I couldn't stay in that room any longer. I'd said my goodbye, the idea of having to stand there and watch Elliot and Mrs Sinclair do theirs made me sick to my stomach.
I felt like a coward, especially since there was Elliot trying to comfort me and I knew I couldn't return the favour, but I'd reached the highest level of pain I could take. I wouldn't do any good if I stayed.
I reached up and clutched at Elliot's hand for a moment and then brought it down off my shoulder and let go. "I'll be outside," I said miserably, gesturing towards the door. "Right there if you need me." But please don't need me.
To my eternal gratitude, Elliot didn't look disappointed, or even surprised. He just nodded and I slipped away, leaving him and his mum to say the final goodbye.
----------
Hours later, as the first sign of dawn started to turn the black sky grey, Elliot opened the door and found Rox hunched up on the floor against the wall. Her head rested on her knees, her eyes slitted with tiredness, but open.
Saving from Monkeys Page 19
