Chapter 6 Rough

Evan had come home from the war at last, but she couldn’t worship him with her body, much as he tried to worship her. Snow fell. A John Wayne movie played, forgotten, across the room. Theresa caught glimpses of it as Evan licked and sucked her nipple, his big hand kneading her hip. She scrubbed her palms over his dark crew cut and shifted her hips, trying to let herself melt into him, but the rattle of bullets from the television made her back tense. Her nipple felt raw from too much attention. He’d been trying to arouse her for half the movie, and suddenly she wanted to scream. “I’m sorry,” she said. She fled to the kitchen, clutching her unbuttoned blouse to her breasts. She could still taste him on her tongue, apple pie and Evan. “Theresa,” he said. He’d buttoned his jeans over the bulge of his cock and balls. “It’s okay.” His dark eyes were soft as he gazed at her. It wasn’t fair. He was the one who’d been shot at and had his friends blown up with bombs. She’d been here safe all along, eating pizza and going to a safe office every day. “It’s not okay! You’ve been gone a year and—I wanted you so much, every day, and now I can’t…” “I love you. I’ll still want you tomorrow. I can wait.” “I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” “There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s just been a long time for us.” He paused. “What if I just hold you?” When she didn’t reply, he said, “Maybe if we got away for a while.....” “I want a baby,” she said, then clapped her hand over her mouth. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t say that. He’d only been home three weeks, three weeks that should have been their honeymoon, delayed for over a year. When she looked up, Evan was gone. Before her sob could escape, he returned, buttoning up a flannel shirt. He took a chair and crossed his arms on the table. The clock ticked. “I thought you were going to leave me. Just now.” “Till death do us part, Tessie.” “It’s been weeks and we haven’t…haven’t fucked. You must be going crazy.” She stared down at the table. “I shouldn’t have said what I said just now.” “If you want a baby, you want a baby. I’d like it, too, you know.” “I thought you were going to get killed. Every day, I thought, what if he dies?” She closed her eyes. “Women survive it every day. But I’m still scared.” “I’m home now,” he said. “I’m not going back there. I’m going to be a software drone for the rest of my life.” “I don’t know why I can’t....” He waited. When she only stared at him, mute, he said, “Can we try something, tomorrow?” “Why tomorrow?” “Snow day for you, and I don’t have another interview until Thursday.” “What if I still can’t—” He grinned. “Then we’ll play backgammon.” * * * Tuesday’s heavy snow sent Theresa home at noon. She found Evan sprawled on the couch. “Hey.” “What’s your plan, Ev?” He grinned, and she tentatively smiled back. “You remember that movie on SyFy?” She blinked. “What?” “Maybe you fell asleep while I was watching it.” She usually did. “More aliens invading?” “The last couple on Earth.” She’d forgotten his circuitous conversational paths. “Go on.” “See, we can be that couple. No jobs or elections or people wanting things from us. Maybe we can forget about…everything.” He smiled, this time tentatively. “Okay?” “Okay.” Theresa switched off the lights, the phones, even the DVD’s clock. She unplugged the refrigerator as well. The silence was shocking. Evan lit a candle on their bedroom windowsill. He and the candle were the only warmth in her world. A breeze from the leaky window sliced through her nylons. She shuddered, and something in the room changed—her sense of Evan’s warmth and scent. She looked into his face, as if she’d never seen his familiar features before, but he looked away, uncharacteristically nervous. “Theresa…” His eyes seemed larger and darker than in their normal, brightly lit, lives. “I didn’t want to die. Not without holding you again. Or having you hold me.” Theresa eased into his space. She hoped for answering relaxation from him, but it wasn’t happening. She wasn’t sure he was breathing. There was an easy way to find out. Theresa nuzzled his mouth until his lips opened. Their breath mingled. She swiped her tongue inside his lower lip; her thoughts fuzzed over when he kissed her back, alternating brushes of his tongue with featherlight friction of his lips. She threaded her fingers into his hair and kissed his temple, getting a mouthful of hair. Their laughter had a hysterical edge. She stifled it with another kiss. She felt calm now, in control. “We still have water, after the…the disaster,” Theresa said. “Not hot water, just water.” “Oh, great. A cold shower.” Theresa said, “I wouldn’t mind washing off.” Evan leaned forward and mouthed her breast through her blouse. “You taste fine already.” Theresa gasped as he drew hard on her nipple; her fingers dug into his shoulders. “I meant first. I want us to be clean.” And of course getting naked would be much easier. “Wait,” Evan said, and vanished into the bathroom. She tugged off her shoes and stockings, then her clothes, shedding the trappings of the everyday. The tile floor was icy; she shivered as she entered the bathroom, lit by another candle. Evan said, “Is this okay?” “You first.” “No. Sit there,” he said, indicating the closed toilet seat. Theresa sat. In the golden light, everything seemed softer-edged, and warmer. Evan drew out her hairpins, and her eyes drifted closed. He massaged her scalp and drew his fingers luxuriously through her hair. “Keep your eyes closed,” he said, in a husky voice. The pressure of his palm bent her forward, over the sink. He poured cold water onto her head an exquisite shock. She murmured in pleasure as Evan’s fingers massaged in shampoo. After he dabbed away the last drips, she bundled up her hair in a towel and pointed for him to take her place. She curved her hand around the back of his neck, holding on for a moment before pouring water. His sucked in a breath as the water hit his scalp. Theresa lingered over scrubbing him, massaging his face and temples. She followed the rinse water with her fingers, marveling at the startling heat of his scalp. His breathing deepened as she worked. Finally, she said, “Still awake?” “Yeah.” Evan’s eyes traveled over her body. Then he stood and poured soap onto one cloth, soaking another with water. “Turn around,” he said. Theresa arched her back as the cloth scrubbed her skin in tantalizing circles, lifted her arms on command, let her head droop as his square, competent hand stroked her buttocks and the backs of her thighs and caressed the taut muscles of her calves. She lifted her feet, one at a time. She closed her eyes, listening to water trickle as he wrung the rinse cloth out. “Around again.” He progressed more slowly on the way up. Theresa held her breath as he cleaned the fronts of her thighs. Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed her pussy, then cleaned gently. Theresa bit her lip, trying not to move. Despite the cold water, the skin of her abdomen seemed on fire, her breasts heavy and aching long before he anointed them with soap. Her neck next. Then the delicate skin behind her ears. Then her face. Evan wiped soap carefully from around her nose, leaned forward and kissed her, catching her lower lip briefly between his. The rough washcloth had brought blood to her skin. Theresa was sure she must be pink all over, and her body craved satisfaction. She unfastened the front of his shirt, and stepped back, studying him; otherwise, she might have seized him violently in a kind of blind lust she couldn’t remember feeling before, even when they’d been in love for the first time. She saw wet hair glistening with droplets of water, darker shadows of chest hair visible through his gaping shirt, lean hips and an erection beginning to manifest, defenseless naked feet. Theresa stripped off his shirt. He wore thermal underwear beneath, the ivory color complementing his skin. She pulled the shirt off, and then helped him peel down his jeans and his shorts. Evan hissed when she touched him. “Hold still,” Theresa said. She liked the texture of his leg hair against her palms. She learned that he responded as much or more to her gentle manipulation of his testicles than he did to a similar touch down the length of his cock. She discovered that the hair on his chest was going gray. At his throat, she kissed her way up a tendon to his jawline, and then nipped his ear before washing his face. “Done,” she said. Their bedroom was now frigid, but beneath a tent of blankets, deliciously warm. Theresa clutched a blanket to her breasts. Evan’s chest was warm against her back as he tugged a comb through her hair. Theresa resisted the urge to moan in animal pleasure, but only barely. Then his thumbs massaged the nape of her neck for a few moments, and she did moan. Evan bent close; his free hand lifted the heavy mass of her hair. He nibbled her nape. He nipped her again, not quite in the same place. The hair on her arms stood up. Theresa gripped the muscles of his thighs, one with each hand, and rubbed, delighted by the silkiness of the hair beneath her palms. Evan’s arms abruptly encircled her waist, a grip like a safety belt. He whispered, “I love you, Tessie.” Theresa leaned back, nestling into warmth. He caressed her breasts, brushing her nipples, pulling on them gently. Theresa felt his hot breath against her throat. She turned in his arms, dislodging the blanket. She bore Evan down against the mattress. “My turn,” she said, softly. His fingers burrowed into her hair while she kissed him. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the hot slickness of his mouth and the satin heat of his skin shifting against hers. His hands squeezed her ass. Theresa didn’t want to lose contact by trying to mount him from above. His cock strained against her belly; she reached between their bodies, pulling gently. Evan flipped them over. His hand joined hers to guide himself into her. Theresa let him in, inch by inch. They might have been out in space, their only heat from each other’s bodies, their only oxygen sucked from each other’s lungs. Gradually, her awareness narrowed to the slippery thrusting inside her, and narrowed again when his hand shifted between them, circling her clit. “Faster,” she said. Her grip tightened on his hips. Not enough. Not enough. She opened her legs wider, angling her pussy at a sharper angle and pushing, pushing, crushing his hand against her clit. Evan’s breath sobbed in her ears as he hammered into her with harder, shorter strokes. Theresa crested. For a few moments she was lost in her own trembling sensation, then she gasped, “I love you, I love you, only you....” Warm gushing inside her in suspended time. Evan’s abrupt hot weight as his arms gave out. Her scalding tears dribbling into her nose and mouth. Evan nuzzled her face, his weight shifting off of her. “Did I hurt you?” Theresa sniffled. “No. I just…” “It’s okay.” He held her, chin snugged against her hair. “I love you.” They lay entwined, their breath frosting the air. Theresa could not remember ever being happier. “Ev, can we do it again? This time, with the heat on?”