"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Her heart ached so badly. Was it breaking? She thought it'd already done that. Could a heart break many times over? Apparently so. Terribly inconvenient, that. So terribly painful.
She must have taken a long way back, or just had walked so slowly or aimlessly. Wasn't too sure, really. Because by the time she reached Reilly, the tears had finally dried to her face, the pathetic little sniffles long gone. Her eyes were still downcast as she neared, but eventually lifted with a weary glaze as she stopped, a despondent half-smile forced to her lips and her voice once again hollow as he was perhaps used to.
Thanks, Reilly. I guess I'll take it from here.
Thanks, I really needed that, was defnitely not coming out of her. Turned out she didn't need her solitude quite as much as she thought. Not when it included Kirby and all the amazing, sexy things he did to her. Not when she was a complete idiot, so stupid, and wanting more than she could ever have. From anyone. God, such an idiot.
Oh, hell. And the bastard had distracted her from washing his scent off her. Damn it. Fabulous. Kirby and sex lathered all over her to shout all the mistakes she kept making. Really damn delightful, amazing, wonderful mistakes, but also pretty painful mistakes. Her own fault, of course. Such a stupid, miserable girl. Her face flushed, and she hoped and begged that the wind had been strong enough to blow it off her. God, how awful if Reilly learned of it.
She found she was rendered speechless now as she avoided his eyes and shifted uncomfortably, smothered in her self-torment and angst over whether he would know what happened while she was away. It sucked to think of him learning of it, and she wasn't really sure why. Would it bother him? Would it make him leave? He was all she had, didn't he know? Just him and the kids. The first puncture into her heart wasn't enough, now she had to worry about losing him too.
What the hell was happening to her.
How'd she keep getting herself into these messes?
The breeze tousles his white and ginger locks, a whisper over the warmth of the sun that kisses his ivory back. A blissful kind of happy has him standing tall, chin tucked inward with a touch of a smile on his pink lips as he watches Kylin and Kharon playing together a short ways away. They've had fun while their mom has been away and for once Reilly feels rooted. Needed. Wanted. What an amazing concept. To feel important and to have the responsibility of these children's happiness and safety. He toys with the idea of being their guardian, maybe their dad, and a partner in raising them. The feeling of being a dad, even if not really their dad, is a completely new and surprisingly thrilling prospect.
Just one thing is left to question.
He knows where he stands with the kids. It's easy with them. Innocence shines bright in their eyes and they know not truly how yet to lie. The look in those two little pairs of eyes as they beam up at him gives all he needs to know about how they think of him. Their mother, though, is quite a different and more complicated story. Giving himself completely to her twins would be so easy, and is so tempting. But he hadn't been able to promise them forever because of one very important thing.
Her.
And here she comes. With the sunlight gleaming off her coat and illuminating the easy way she moves. He wonders if she knows just how beautiful she really is. Such a petite thing, with all that wild hair. And man, the wind sure has her hair awfully ruffled, doesn't it. He doesn't mind, though, thinks (albeit secretly, because he wonders if he should have such thoughts) that she looks bloody hot with this disheveled appearance as she makes her way to him. He greets her with a warm smile, his eyelids lowered and cocked hind leg conveying his contentment. He is happy to see her. Wants to greet her more personably, but for the question burning in the back of his mind that has him holding back. She finally comes to stand by him, though notably not too close. "Thanks, Reilly. Guess I'll take over from here." So sad, shut off, and not even looking at him. God, how he wants to take all that from her. But hell, if her simple statement didn't sound like a dismissal. He frowns. Does she expect him to just up and take off now that she's back? Oh, Jaysus, yer home! I'll be on mah way now, lassie. Enjoy yer kids, tura'lu! Inwardly, he rolls his eyes. Outwardly, he shakes his head and smiles before taking a step toward her.
And stops. Frozen. Stops breathing, even. All expression drains from his face. All former carefree contentment bleeds out from his body, to be replaced by tension. Shocked and disbelieving. "Wallace? What happened? What..." He stares, wide eyed at her for a moment, still not bloody looking at him. Takes a step closer, sniffs, eyes her whole body once more as it all clicks in to place. He'd been a fool not to realize it the moment he saw her. It's a look he's all too familiar with, really. Her bed head, the sweat stains in her coat, the reeking stench of sex. And not just that. The male's scent is familiar, although he can't even fucking begin to believe it. She doesn't look the same tragic broken mess as the day he'd found her in the woods, but that smell is the very same.
Heart sinking to the back of his chest, guts twisting with turmoil, he lowers his head passed the level of hers and fixes her with a shocked stare. This is what she needed time to deal with? Not just to get her head on straight, but to get the head of the bastard who'd left her broken in a heap?! "What happened?" And then because he realizes what he sees in her face isn't guilt, but something else. Something worse. She'd consented this time. He just knew it. It was written all over her fucking body. "What did you do." Deeper now, shrinking back from her. A haze settles over his vision. Emotions he's never felt before rising to the surface and rendering him unable to fight them. Jealousy, rage... And a deep sadness. Hurt. He shakes with it, shakes his head. Confused, shocked. His breath expels in an exasperated huff. "Why, dove." Not but a whisper, still shaking his head.
His heart races, thumping painfully in heavy dull thuds, his breathing comes faster, nostrils quivering. Somewhere deep down he knows he might be overreacting. She is not his. But goddammit, why did this have to hurt so bad. That she would choose to go back to the filth that scorned her instead of recognizing what's been here for her the entirety of the time since.. well since he's been around. He turns from her, pacing, throwing his weight around while he spits out what's on his mind. "Why. Why would you.. Jaysus, Lace, and to think I've been waiting to be able to touch you. Fucking hell." Oops, said that out loud, did he? Well, hell, too late to take it back. And he had. Been waiting for the moment she might ask him to touch her. Because he wanted it to be her choice. He wouldn't force it on her, not when so much had already been forced on her. So he'd denied himself from touch, from comforting her, from loving her. And for what. For her to turn around and go fuck the same scum he should've been comforting her over. He could've erased him from her mind. But no, that was never even possible, was it.
He groans, quietly, so as not to attract attention from the twins playing not far off. However, unable to contain the tension, he punches the ground beneath his right front hoof with enough force to leave an indentation, rattling his very bones. Blue-green eyes return to her, searching her face. Knowing she's already so damn bent, but not caring. He was done hiding behind the protective shroud. She needs to know how her actions have consequence. "Dammit, Lace! Are ye so goddamned blind? Yeah. Too fucking blind to see what's right here in front o'ya. Bloody hell, woman, d'ya even fucking care? Does anyone matter outside that pretty little head o'yers?" UGH, he's never been so mad before. Not a day in his carefree, easy-going life. Back before he'd discovered there were things he could have. Things so much better than wandering and getting boozed up and having a good ride with just any woman he could charm. Back before he realized it was something he wanted. Now, as he stares into the face of the only woman to ever affect him- to effectively change him for what would probably be forever, now he just doesn't know what to say. The pain of this giant slap in the face was just too much. Too much to just stand here and take. So angry he was that his string of curses melted into his native tongue as he backs away and turns. It's like everything inside him was ripping apart and bursting into flames. He can't think straight. He can't bear to look at her. He just. Can't. Now was best to walk away. Just walk away before he says more to hurt her. But damned if he didn't feel like killing someone.
Time to go and do what he does best. Get away and get good and rightly shit-faced. Fuck all the rest.
04-22-2017, 06:51 PM (This post was last modified: 04-22-2017, 07:21 PM by Wallace.)
Lacey
Even without meeting that deep, mahogany-ale gaze of his, she could sense his peace, so relaxed and content, so.. happy. She was surprised by it, wished she could fall into it too and be swept away. Maybe she could. Maybe it would be okay. He took a step forward.
And froze.
Oh God -oh God -oh God -oh God.
His whole body tensed, hers did too, his muscles locking taut and immovable. She held her breath, her eyes still away and down, waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting, for the judgement, judgement as he saw through to her mistake, yet another painful mistake. For the abandonment, as he realized she was a lost cause and he should never have stayed. Why was he even here? She never really understood it. Sure, she didn't have anyone, was completely on her own, but pity could only go so far. God, she was going to lose him for this. She deserved to. She never did anything right. Only wrong, all wrong.
He took a step closer, breathing in all her terrible deeds and studying the proof of them in her messy state. She groaned inwardly, immediately hating everything at all in the world. Why did he have to look so closely, why did he have to hunt down the truth even if it was so very loud all on its own. Why did it matter. Why did it hurt so bad. She was so tired of the pain, would it never end? It was all made somehow tremendously worse by him knowing it.
He dropped his head lower than hers so she couldn't avoid looking at him, her eyes widening as they met his and a silent gasp parting her lips. God, and it hurt so much worse to see his eyes. She was right to avoid them, and now couldn't tear herself away from them. "What happened?" But she couldn't speak, could only give a small shake of her head with that wildly fractured, fragile look in her eyes.
She.. She hadn't meant to. She hadn't known he was here on the island, should have been afraid of him. She had been afraid of him. But oh she was so stupid and stubborn and bold, couldn't just back down and run like someone better, someone with half a brain. Nobody would touch her, didn't he understand? She was ruined. Nobody would touch her, not even him. Nobody but the one who'd done it to begin with. Kirby was all she'd ever have. And she never really would have him at all, would she.
She was quickly growing more irritated by the gradual turn of her thoughts, angry tears pricking at her traitorous eyes. By the time he asked "what did you do" and pulled away, she was glaring with her jaw clamped shut to keep from speaking. Just bite her tongue this time, don't speak for once. Don't make it worse. But how dare he? It wasn't any of his business, was it? Was it fair to deny her the one person that would press his body against hers, whisper sweet things and strive to please her. Even if it meant nothing. It never would.
Not a damn thing.
And just like that, her brief strength was broken. She swallowed against a sudden lump in her throat, closing her eyes over the stupid anguish in them. "Why, dove", she almost didn't hear. God, she was so stupid. Her shoulders slumped and the fight left her. Why? Because it was all she would ever have. But she wouldn't anymore, would she. She would bet Kirby had seen through the hurt in her eyes and her pathetic demand to leave her alone by the way he instantly backed off. He'd know she was stupid enough to want what she could never have, and he probably wouldn't let her try for it again even if she swore it meant nothing. Now she wouldn't even have Kirby's touch.
She stood defeated. As she fell more still, more silent, more resigned in her pain, he grew more agitated, more distraught, more upset in his. He stepped away and began pacing, pounding his frustration into the ground beneath the solid weight of him. She stood. She took the beating of his emotions with her head bowed. Such a foolish girl. So stupid. He continued, spat his anger and disappointment, "Why. Why would you... Jaysus, Lace, and to think I've been waiting to be able to touch you. Fucking hell."
She jerked, recoiling as if slapped with a squeak of shocked pain, throwing her head to the side and her whole body tensing. God, definitely don't look at him now. He didn't mean it, couldn't mean it. Just wanted to hurt her back, that was all. That's how this worked. She caused him pain and so he causes her pain too. It was nothing, just words. Don't think on them, don't she dare even think about believing them for one second.
He groaned and punched the earth. She flinched. She tried to bury everything deep, deep down and school her face, slowly turn a blank expression to him as she finally raised her head a little. If she had any pride left at all, it was here in the stiff of her back and her deadened eyes, numb. And as he spoke again, she slid her eyes closed and focused on keeping her legs still and strong, keep from trembling or buckling to the ground as they begged her to. "...Does anyone matter outside that pretty little head o'yers?"
Her babies. Her babies did. She'd stand strong through this, for them. And she did. She stood silent as he finally stalked off with a string of curses in his native tongue. She glanced to be sure the twins were fine, could see Kylin off playing and knew she was never far from her brother though she couldn't see him directly from here. Then she crumpled to the ground and wept. - - - - -
Her face was drawn when she searched for him the next morning, her eyes tight. She eventually found him passed out and sleeping off his hurt or anger. It was still early and the twins were still asleep, but she hadn't done much of that, herself. For a time, she just watched him, so empty inside. So hollow. So numb. Then she sighed quietly and stepped forward, reached toward him -and hesitated. Stopped. He probably wouldn't want her to touch him, would he? Ugh. Whatever, he was asleep anyway.
Reilly, she whispered with brows pinched in worry, barely touching to brush the hair from over his eye. Maybe it was a good sign that he was still here, even though he was so far from where she and the kids slept. She didn't want to call it "home," maybe it wasn't his home. But maybe it was a good sign. Here, and not completely gone. Maybe she could fix this somehow.
She supposed she was more likely to mess them up, though. But she'd at least try.
She shifted uncertainly, not really sure what she should do. Should she wake him? Or come back later? What if he left when he woke and she wouldn't be able to try and stop him?
She eventually settled on staying here with him, ready and waiting for when he would wake as she lowered herself to the ground near him. She'd only meant to watch over him and wait. She didn't mean to let her head lay a little close by his, or her eyes to slide shut for a little too long. She didn't mean to drift and sink into a fitful sleep plagued with nightmares, new nightmares. Ones where he left and never came back, not even to visit, and she never saw him again.
She wanted to be there when he woke. So maybe she didn't completely fail this time.
Stupid. How could he be so damned stupid. Coming here- he could have left her to the care of Ashley and this island she calls home. He could have gone about his business doing whatever the hell he wanted to do, as he always had. Getting fluthered, flirting with beautiful women, and sometimes getting lucky. Then going on again to whatever came next. He could be doing all that again now. Except, he doesn't want it. Not anymore. And he's never really been good at lying, least-wise to himself. Ever since he'd stumbled across a woman brought down so low and thrown carelessly aside as nothing more than the dirt she lay upon. To have everything stripped from her, just like that, at the hands of some selfish sack of gobshite. It had changed him from that very moment. No one deserves to be treated that way, ever. And all he wanted was to take her away and take care of her. He wouldn't call it pity. Of course, he sympathized. But, in that moment, a deeper part of Reilly had been awakened. A protective side. He'd always been a gentleman, especially toward women, even if he could be a bit brash at times. But he'd never truly cared about someone before.
It was what carried him to the island the magician had brought her back to. It was what held him at her side when she brought two beautiful little lives into the world. It was what rooted him to this godforsaken place. What made him agree to watch over her kids so that she could... God damn, he cares. Maybe too much. Enough that it hurts now, as he worked his own magic on himself to attempt to drown it out. Stupid, so stupid. What is he even doing here? Fuck, he can't even leave the island. Because he cares. Because he knows she's hurting. And he just made it all worse for her. Damn it all to hell and back. She really didn't have many around her. Ashley does his own thing and doesn't check on her much. But it'd made him happy to be here for her to help her. And then.. He was an ass to her. Doesn't even fully remember what all he'd said, but he knows it hurt her. As if she needs more hurt.
Fucking idiot. Another shot, another dose of the hard stuff. It wasn't her fault. Any of it. Wasn't her fault that he'd come here, that he wanted to see her happy. Still does. Wasn't her fault that he'd come to feel so much for her. Not her fault that he couldn't control his anger. So stupid. Even if inwardly, he still can't stand that she would go back to the bastard who'd done such a horrible thing to her. And willingly this time. Why... Fucking why?! When he was the one here for her. The one caring for her and helping with the kids. The one waiting. God, for what, even?! It wasn't her fault. And it wasn't his damned business. He should leave. Go far away. No, but he couldn't do that. Why stay, when she clearly doesn't care about him other than to sit her kids while she... DAMMIT. So stupid. Drunk, angry, and frustrated as all hell, he rears up and punches a tree. There's a loud crack, maybe from the tree, maybe his leg. If it hurt, he doesn't feel it. Doesn't care. But he's still walking, so nothing's broke.
He can't leave. Two babies had asked him to stay. He told them he would. Even now, he could see their beaming faces lifted to him, eyes worried and hopeful. He couldn't let them down. Not ever. He was in too deep now. With them, and with their mother, too. He'd never be the same again. Just knows it.
He falls to his knees, more drunk than he's been in a long time- with the world spinning and balance shot. He feels low, broken, and so angry. He shouldn't have talked to her that way. Shouldn't have left that way. Shouldn't be feeling this way. Mother of mercy, what a mess. He should go back. Apologize, and.. what? Tell her how stupid he is? Damn, but the world is spinning and he can't get up. Falls the rest of the way to the ground. Oh, and the grass is cool on his side and it's soft. Mm, soft. And sleep suddenly feels like the best thing. He'll go tomorrow, when they've both had time to cool. When he's not so bleedin' drunk. For now, he succumbs.
He dreams. Of finer things, beautiful things. Scenes of him coming back from a journey, Lacey greeting him with a warm kiss and an embrace, heavy with their child. Two lavender and white children racing up to him and pressing into his chest. "Daddy, you're home!" Hugging them to him, and smiling. Looking up to meet those coffee-brown eyes and catching that sassy tilt to those luscious lips he wants to kiss again and again until they're both gasping for air. She chides him for being gone so long. He teases her for missing him. She gives him that spitfire stare and he winks and promises to make it up to her later. The twins run off shouting "eww!" and "they're gonna kiss again, let's go!" And then later, much later, when they are sated and spent, she brushes his hair from his face. "Reilly." And he pulls her tighter to him.
_______
He groans as he shifts his weight, slowly waking up, but fighting it. Bloody hell, his head feels like it's going to explode. Everything feels heavy; his eyes glued shut. A long time since he's gotten as drunk as last night. His body wasn't used to it anymore. And the worst of all was the heaviness of his heart. He reaches out in his half-sleep, wanting, but knowing he'd passed out alone. But. He isn't alone, is he? His muzzle brushes up against something soft and warm, a face. The familiarity of that wild fragrance had his eyes snapping open.
As though he'd conjured her from his dreams, Lacey is there laying before him. Not nearly close enough, but there all the same. The last thing he'd expected to wake up to after yesterday's blowup. Yawning, and cringing at the pain in his head as he lifts it, he gazes at her. Still unkempt, still smelling of him, although more faintly now. That same pang of jealousy tightens his belly, but he breathes past it. She is here, sleeping near him. But why? He'd been an ass, stepped over a line. Or so he'd thought. Surprised, but happy to see her, Reilly ever so slightly runs his muzzle from below her ear, down to her cheek to the side of her nose. He pulls back then, for fear of startling her. "Lace?" Just a whisper. And when she does wake, he lets the honest guilt reflect in his eyes as he meets that dark chocolate gaze of hers. "I'm sorry, dove. Really. I had no right to act that way.." His eyes fall away then, because he is sorry, but also not sorry for the way he feels. But how to tell her. Such a damn fool, he is. "What you do with your body is your business." Truth. But goddamn, there is regret in his voice. "I just..." Damn, he's no good at this. What to say. How to say it. I'm such a fool. He sighs, frustrated, and pulls away without getting up yet. Turns his face away while he digs for the words and waits for her to berate him. "You make me crazy, dove. I don't know what to do with myself. Do you think... I could ever make you happy?" His guts churning, he can't look at her. Damned if he doesn't feel like a wee child. This, is what she does to him.
It was so good to finally rest. Once the twins eventually fell asleep, she lay restless but still, her mind racing but body unmoving. Silent tears trickling as they tended to when she was alone, now with many reasons to. That’s what she was, alone. So very alone. Reilly’s absence.. Well, she was alone. Even more now. As she had been throughout her pregnancy. No, worse this time. Because Reilly had always been there since they were born. A constant presence. A comfort. A friend when she had no one. A friend.
She’d never had one of those. Not really.
So she’d given up on sleep. Given up on staring at the empty place where he usually lay. Even the children seemed abnormally subdued and quiet, neither one speaking to her much at all. Maybe they knew it was her fault that he was gone. But what was she supposed to do? Was it so wrong to want those things for herself? To unintentionally run into the very one that would give them to her and eagerly seek them out. Maybe mother was the only thing she should be now. Never lover. Never again. At least it had been so good while it lasted, though false as it was. A beautiful lie she told herself, that he could ever be more.
Thinking of it only brought the pain back. Only made her more restless, more empty and hollow and carved out. She eventually gave up on sleep, gave up on staring at that place wishing it weren’t bare. So she went looking for him, still dark out, not quite dawn. Found him and fell asleep near his side. It was so good to finally rest. She didn’t want to leave it even as a soft touch against her face had her brows pinching weakly in her sleep, then smoothing back out. Just wanted to sleep, needed this.
A breath -a touch?- barely felt, but there against her skin, trailing from below her ear, across her cheek, down to her nose. Her breath hitched with a silent gasp, her eyes flying open with pupils shrunk in fear looking straight ahead. Her heart raced, pounded so swiftly in her chest. A dream, just a dream. Just another one. ”Lace?” Her head twisted to look up at him, still a little wild, still uncertain. Reilly. It was just Reilly. It was Reilly. She blinked away the brief, silent panic, took in that pained look of regret in his handsome face. Oh. Right. Reilly..
”I’m sorry, dove. Really. I had no right to act that way..” She rolled to sit up as he glanced away from her, a knot forming in her chest, tangling and adding to the one already there. She wished they could just go on like it never happened. And he’d been mad at her, shouldn’t she be the one apologizing? But she wasn’t really sure for what. It didn’t help the aching tightness in her chest, the sting and burn of a nameless pain. ”What you do with your body is your business.”
She looked away too as it stabbed into her. Why would those words hurt? Weren’t they the truth? Yes, but there in her already-aching heart was the added pain, the anguish bleeding so slowly out of her. She tried to swallow it down, not to let it show. ”I just..” He sighed and pulled away, frustrated with himself, or maybe with her. This was hurting already, couldn’t they stop now? Just move on, pretend it never happened, pretend she never upset him and he never snapped and walked away. She just wanted everything to be alright again. Needed everything to be alright. She couldn’t take his unhappiness and his distance.
”You make me crazy, dove. I don’t know what to do with myself.” Still turned away, still not looking at her. Why couldn’t he look at her anymore? Was he so disgusted with her? Was it so wrong of her? A silent tear pooled in her eye, frustrated and hurting. Why couldn’t she have what everyone else could have? Why must she always be less. Why must she never be good enough. Pretty enough. Sweet enough. Right enough. She kept her eyes away from him despite that he wouldn’t look at her either.
”Do you think… I could ever make you happy?”
Her breath caught again as she stole a pained glance at him, brows furrowed. Happy? Her? What could possibly make her happy anymore? Why should that be his burden? It shouldn't. I... she breathed, could barely get air into her lungs anymore. How do you tell someone you couldn't hope for happiness without sounding as hopeless and pathetic as it was? No, they should talk about something else instead. Don't let him learn just how dark her thoughts are, the heavy hopelessness that weighs her heart to the ground and pulls the light from her eyes. He wasn't just going to let it go though, was he.
I am happy, she lied in a low murmur. The twins play, have light hearts and easy laughs. They're happy. Their happiness makes me happy. It was almost believable, because it was true to some extent. She did love to see them so carefree and full of joy, a much better life than she'd had at their age. What more could she ask for? Her eyes dimmed.
It was hard to sleep without you there, she admitted stiffly, forced it out like pulling her own damn teeth. It was true, of course. But now he would see more of her weakness, her vulnerability. Hadn't he seen far more of that than anyone ever should? She wasn't weak. She didn't need anybody. She never had. She finally got out of that stupid den as an orphan, finally was adopted after the loss of her mother and twin sister. Made her own way in life, always trying to be her own person, always fighting to appear an adult in everyone's eyes as she struck out on her own far too young to be alone. She was lucky nothing had happened to her sooner... But it made sense that it had happened to her. She was just so tired of appearing so damn weak.
She cleared her throat and tried to glance at him. Will you... be coming home? No, maybe it wasn't his home. Are you leaving? Please don't let the fear reach her eyes, strain her voice.
04-25-2017, 02:34 AM (This post was last modified: 04-25-2017, 02:48 AM by Reilly.)
Damn, but he shouldn't have touched her. He'd given himself just that one small and brief, gentle touch. Just a slight moment of what it could be like to feel her softness under his fingertips (okay, muzzle, but closest thing to fingertips he has). But he knew better than to mess with her when she's sleeping. It tended not to go well, as it did now. She woke with a start, causing him to frown at the fear laden in those lovely almond eyes. He wants to move in again, steal away the worry he sees there, but he remains, opting to attempt to snap her out of it with calling her name. At least that had seemed to work. His concern eases when she visibly relaxes at the sight of him. He almost smiles at that- that she would be comforted by his presence. Still, though, he must apologize for the way he'd snapped at her. She hadn't deserved that, no matter how jealous or angry he'd been. He had no claim to her. She was not bound to him in any form, therefore he'd been out of line.
Then, he goes about trying to explain himself, and she is silent all the while, letting him go on and make himself out to be the fool he is. By the end of his speech he feels no larger than an ant crawling about. Sounding so foolish and vulnerable. It didn't even occur to him that his question would make her feel burdening. But her silence makes him finally look at her with her brows furrowed, as though she can't believe he would ask her such a question. Could he ever make her happy. Goddamn, the hopeless look in her eyes breaks his heart. At first, he could swear it was for him. That he isn't good enough to make her happy, and she just didn't want to say. Yet, as she seems to scrounge for an answer, he watches as the look on her face tells a whole other story. She doesn't think she can be happy. By his doing or anyone else's. He exhales shortly, and shakes his head, disapproving. That bastard had done that to her. A few hours of torment for his pleasure, to cause so much lasting pain and a blow to her confidence. He was just going to have to prove her wrong, then, wasn't he?
She speaks about the twins making her happy, and he smiles warmly and nods. "Of course. Those half-pints could brighten anyone's day." A slight chuckle follows, and he doesn't bother to hide the affection for them from his tone nor face. He presses her with a gentle but fixed stare, then. "That isn't quite wha' I meant, dove, but tha's alright." He shrugs lazily and looks off into the forest for a moment. His tone is mildly nonchalant in an attempt to keep her from feeling guilty, but he inwardly berates himself for not making himself more clear. Though, there is something that makes him believe it isn't time yet. There is more he must do to prove he is worth it. No, that she is worth it. And that would take time. It's okay, though, he decides. He has plenty of that to give to her. Sighing, he lets go his anger from the night before and his worry over hurting her, instead pondering where to go from here. Forward, he hopes.
Her next words surprise him. "It was hard to sleep without you there." Stiff and thick with tension in her voice. So forced that he had to snap his seagreen gaze back to her face to check it for truth. He found it, her honestly, but then has to check himself to contain the giddy bit of laughter that threatens to twitch his lips upward and bubble out. That would be embarrassing, for both of them. Of course, her admission was pleasing to him, confirming his earlier thought that she finds comfort in his presence. He is so glad to hear it. But, it's the way it sounds like she's blaming him for her lack of sleep. Like she's mad or worried that saying the words out loud is a bad thing. "I missed you too, love. I'll try to be better in the future." Okay, so the amusement bled through into his tone, and now there is a bit of a crook in his lips. It's not a joke, he did miss her, and hated- even for a night- to be away with the thought that there was this distance between them, physical and emotional.
Breathing through the bit of hangover from his bender, Reilly heaves himself up onto his feet, shaking loose the tension in his muscles and the cobwebs from his mind, and a few dried leaves from his mane. He takes that moment to stretch, registering a bit of soreness in his right front leg. As though he'd gotten into a fight with something solid and large. Hm, interesting because he couldn't remember getting into any fights. Ah well, he must have won, because there isn't a scratch on him. Good, then. He yawns and straightens his stance, letting his lids droop to half-mast as he begins to turn his head to look back at her. His ears flick to catch the sound of her throat clearing and his eyes snap to hers at the little question that follows.
"Will you... And his heart thuds softly in anticipation of her words, curious what she is about to ask. "Are you leaving?"
His chest tightens as he searches her face, sees her trying to mask the worry laying just under the surface. All he wants in that moment is to be closer to her, tell her exactly everything that she makes him feel, promise her the world. But that would be too much so soon. Instead, he lets his face soften and turns his body to align with hers and settles down again beside her. Close, but not touching. It has to be her choice, he reminds himself. "No, love. I'm not goin' anywhere. My home is here now."With you. His head leans toward hers. Not touching, though he wants to. A small smile lifts his lips, and drowsiness lowers his lids, though not closing. He simply lays there and revels in the nearness of her beside him. His gaze lazily sweeps her face, her body and the way she looks as though she'd fit right into his side. Sexy, petite woman she is. "You should know how beautiful you are, Lace. Truly." His smile remains, as his gaze locks with hers. Damn, he aches to touch her. To be so close without contact is a torture in itself that he can hardly stand, but he will not ask it of her. Will not take anything from her for his own selfish wants. She deserves better than that. Pulling his head back some, in case she requires more space, he slowly lets his eyes drift closed.
Everything felt so heavy between them, in the air, in her chest. It was good that she was on the ground, because she was so very weighed down and wasn't sure her legs could've held her. The pressure made it hard to breathe, an unseen tension clutching her tighter and tighter with an iron (no, not iron) grip. She wasn't even sure where it came from, but all she could think about was getting away, running away. Escape.
Just run.
Be alone.
As she should be.
The heart-warming affection in Reilly's voice as he spoke of the twins somehow didn't ease it. It should have, shouldn't it? But still she just wanted to get away. Escape this, whatever it was, this growing weight on her heart. That wasn't what he meant, he said, and deep, deep down she must have known that. Known that somehow, impossibly, he meant more by it. Because that grip tightened around her and she glanced away, looking for escape. He meant more. He wanted more. But there was nothing more. Not with her. There was only Kirby. Or had been. Now there was nothing.
Why did everything hurt? Why couldn't she be good enough for him -the other him? She would never be enough. Her mind was racing. No. She was thinking of Reilly, go back to Reilly. She wouldn't be good enough for him either. Except, Reilly wanted more. Or did he? No, maybe she was mistaken after all. He couldn't possibly. She was crazy, making things up now. He'd always called her such affectionate things, always treated her so kindly. That was normal, it was nothing. It didn't mean he wanted anything from her. He didn't. He never tried for more, she was just crazy and desperate. That was all. That must have been it.
She couldn't breathe. Was this a panic attack? What were those like? And why? She didn't know, didn't care. Just needed air. She didn't notice the tremble start in her legs, working their way to her shoulders. I missed you too, love. I'll try to be better in the future. She breathed a bitter laugh. Better? He was perfect, he'd always been perfect. Did everything right. Looked so good. Damn, really good. Why didn't he have someone at his side? Why was he here. It didn't matter, wasn’t her business, and she pushed it away.
You are perfect, Reilly. You always have been. But her voice should've been soft and sweet, impossibly caring. Should have been delicate and graceful and kind. It wasn't. She wasn't. She was sharp and rude and blunt, a little cold maybe, as she always had been. Perhaps as she always would be. He was perfect. So attractive and sweet. Always there, always ready to help her with anything at all, even watching the kids and practically raising them as if they were his own too. She swallowed. She wasn't sure she liked that way of thinking. What did that make them? Nothing, just the same as they have been. Safe and good and just... safe.
Just friends. Safe.
As if she needed any reminder at all of his perfection, he rose. Her eyes were immediately drawn to him and yet she still didn't notice the leaves and debris falling from his hair. Ripped and toned muscle stretched beneath smooth skin that had already been so hard not to press herself into for his strength. How many times had she wondered what it felt like, wanted to see for herself, but was held back by the fear. A little of it, only a little, was fear that he was so large and strong and could overpower her if he wanted, take what he wanted, how he wanted it. But Reilly never would, she thought. Her fear with him was deeper, more real, so painful; that she'd screw everything up somehow and he'd leave. Like she nearly did the day before. Afraid to love and be unloved, to be abandoned again. Time and time again, the people in her life always left her in the end. Not that he even wanted that with her.
So long he'd been here without ever asking for more than whatever they were. No, see? He didn't want more. She was crazy to think he could have meant more earlier. But damn, look at him. He must have had his choice in women as they threw themselves at him and begged for his love, his body. She could understand it. She could never have it, but she could understand it. He was perfect, beautiful in that solid-man sort of way, sculpted like some ideal specimen brought to life by the expert hand of a god. Maybe he'd even had all those women that surely must pine for his every attention. And here he was stuck babysitting her and her children.
She felt heat rise to her face and she looked away, clearing her throat. She was looking too hard, thinking too much. It took all her strength to force her eyes back to his as she asked if he was leaving. She had to know if she would lose another person in her life, if she'd have to watch his back recede as he left her behind like she was nothing. He searched her face and she felt like her stupid heart was there in her eyes for him to see, showing him all the fear and the worry and the tension. Please don't leave, she thought. How would she do this all alone?
He came closer and lowered himself, settled himself at her side. Her eyes fell to the short distance between them and she stared, silently counting and recounting the mere inches between them, afraid to look into the sea-blue of his gaze again. She could feel the chaotic flutter of her nervous pulse as he promised he wasn't leaving, that this was home for him. Cold relief trickled hesitantly through her, but not enough to cool the flush in her cheeks. His head leaned in closer and her eyes snapped to his again, quiet uncertainty sitting so sharply in hers. But he was so relaxed with his eyelids half-closed and a drowsy smile curving those lips. And then she could feel his stare glide slowly over her as if it were a touch, a faint caress, and she lost her ability to breathe or move or think. She couldn't turn from his eyes though as he took her all in, afraid to see his judgement but unable to look away.
"You should know how beautiful you are, Lace. Truly," he said quietly, his gaze coming back to lock with hers. God, she could do nothing but sit rigid under his spell and wait for him to take whatever he wanted. He must have meant it. He never said anything he didn't mean in all the time she'd known him. That wild need to run, to escape, shot into her again and her breath fluttered across her lips. But she couldn't move, couldn't move. She thought he might want to touch her, could nearly feel it pulling at her and trying to tug her closer and closer. But he didn't near any further.
It had been much the same with Sabrael, just a brief moment she thought he might touch her, that she so deeply wanted him to, and then it was gone. So powerful, but so fleeting. Now he was gone. Would it run Reilly away too? And she could also remember Woolf. He'd ignored her fear in his calm confidence, pressed his body firmly against her. Remembered the way his mouth had claimed hers in a way that had been so primal and natural, taking from her and igniting her eyes and her body with a fire she wanted to feel again, for someone other than Kirby. Always Kirby. Kirby who would never love her. Kirby, the only one that would have her.
She didn't move, didn't speak, watched him pull away a little and close his eyes. Then she could breathe again, shallow and unstable, but breathing. He still hadn't touched her, hadn't really tried. But he'd wanted to, didn't he? At least for a moment? Maybe. She watched him in heavy silence for a while, her mind racing. Should she do something? She didn't' know what. Or maybe she should leave? Or maybe just lie next to him and try to sleep again, if that was even possible just then. Part of her wanted to tell him send his magic in her, numb this frantic spiral of thoughts and emotions, dull it down and steady her. Maybe she should.
Reilly, she began. But she lost her brief confidence, her swiftly-fading courage. She shook her head and closed her eyes, willed herself to take a deep breath and ignore her still-racing pulse. I'm glad you're staying, she said quietly instead, and lowered her cheek to the ground, their faces so close and still not touching. She let his scent steady her instead as it surrounded her, strong and male and safe, and closed off any other thoughts. Except one, a truth about yesterday that might make him feel better somehow, in some way. That Kirby.. was done with her.
Oh, bloody hell. It is difficult to mask the raw amusement bubbling up under the surface of his face. His bright eyes go dark as he lets loose a hollow chuckle. "I should say likely not, dove. I've never been perfect a day in my life." He casts his face away, somber for the moment as he thinks about everything he's ever done. Far from perfect. But the fact that she says so, that she even thinks it.. "Thanks, though." He would have to admit to trying. Ever since he'd arrived here on Ischia, he'd been a better man. At least trying to be. Being here for her, watching the kids when she needed. It'd all made him feel important. Something better than a charming Irish bouzie. Still, though, he'd say he had a long way to go to earn perfection. What did that even mean, anyway? He let the thought slip from his mind as he rose and shook off the tension from the night and this morning.
It was after he moved and settled back down close beside her that he let his eyes wander over her and truly contemplate what perfect would look like. To him, perfect could be the way the sun slowly rises, peaking through the branches of the trees surrounding them and bathing its warmth and light across her features, accentuating the reddish highlights in her long brown hair. It touches along her body, glistening on her curves and shading the dips. So damn lovely. He curses himself in his silent perusal for the direction his thoughts are headed, and he curses the bastard that damaged her and now has him refraining from touching her. He tells her though, how beautiful she really is. Even if the word didn't seem to cover the truth of it. His lazy gaze moves to find her face as she watches him appreciate her, and a surge of heat simmers through him at the sight of that. That deep look of.. need? Desire? But just that quickly, it's gone, replaced by goddamned fear and anxiety as he inches closer to her. No matter how relaxed he is, no matter the he fact the he would not hurt her. Still, she is afraid. Damn it, damn it, DAMN it... There aren't enough expletives in the English language to adequately describe his hatred for the gobshite who'd done this to her, and for the ever lasting impression he'd left on her in his wake. Hm, his wake. Just perhaps exactly where Reilly might send him if he ever got to meet the bastard.
Breathing deeply to dissuade the heat of his anger, he pulls his head back away to give her space. For a moment he closes his eyes. To breathe, to think. Still, her exotic scent wafts to him and tugs on his strings. Still, he notices how easier her breaths come now that he had given her those few inches of space back. How long was it going to be this way, he has to wonder. How long could he stand it?
"Reilly," Oh and the sound of his name on her lips, in her voice. He works hard to ignore that next wave of heat that glides through him as he flicks an ear to her and slightly inclines his brows. "Mm?" It is but a rumble of a sound in answer, eyes remaining closed for the moment. It sounded like she was going to ask him a question, but instead she simply says she is glad he is staying and then lays her head down close beside his. He feels it. The nearness of her. The warmth of her skin reaching out toward his face. His lids slowly peek open, the irises behind them brighter in the dawning light. "And it won't happen again." It takes him a moment to realize what she means, but when he does, he is so confused by it. It shouldn't matter to her, how he felt about her going off and-- but why shouldn't it? Isn't that what he wanted? It shouldn't matter to him if she goes and does it-- oh, but he does. He does and he can't help it. So he mulls over his response. What he should say, how he should continue. Such careful steps, he should take. But dammit, he needs to tell her.
"Lace. No matter what has happened, or what might happen later. I-- I need you to know. I'm here, because I want to be here. I'm staying, because I want to stay. With the kids, but also with you, dove." He lifted his head to make speaking easier, however he does not yield the closeness- that she had given. And watches her every expression as he speaks, close enough for his breath to lightly fan her face. "I don’t care anymore, the reasons you went and..- I don't. I just want you to know I'm here. And I want to be here. And I want you." The truth of it burns in his eyes, deep and turbulent as the sea as he gazes at her. His face, his body, even his voice tenses as he visibly restrains himself from moving any closer. "God, Lacey. I want to touch you. But I won't. Not ever." Oh godsbedamned, he couldn't promise that. Not forever. The strain of his hold on himself tightens, along with the pain in his eyes. But he presses on, needing to finish. Facing this head-on. "Not until you ask me to. Until you want me to." Fucking hell, but don't make me wait too long. He would- he would wait, if that's what she needs. But damn, it just might be his undoing. His eyes fall from hers to her cheek, her lips. He prays silently for any god to listen, for her not to run away. Not from him. Never. "I will never hurt you, Lace. Never." His voice is a strained whisper, but held true to a vow he would never break.
It was cruel. So cruel. To know she could never be loved. Her whole life, she’d known this. Nobody had ever looked at her in that way, so tender and caring, or even hot and burning with lust. Not until she found Kirby. Not until he burned for her and taught her the pain and pleasure of that inferno.
The first time hadn’t been good -she wasn’t stupid. He’d been selfish and ruthless in the way that he took her. He’d loved that he could speak to her body no matter how hard she’d tried to fight it. It didn’t matter that she was terrified and hurt, didn’t matter that she was afraid of him, swore she hated him. Because her body loved him, ached and trembled for the things he did and the way he purred against her skin. There must be something emotional that happens for a girl’s first time. There must be. Because her body loved him, and dragged her pathetic heart with it, especially after the second time when it hadn’t been bad at all, hadn’t hurt. Had been nothing but good, so good.
She’d never been looked at in that way he looked at her, ravenous with desire as if she were beautiful, as if she meant something, even so shallow as lust. Her stupid heart decided it would take what it would get. She couldn’t have more, so lust would be enough.
Turned out, it hadn’t been enough.
She couldn’t help but wish and wish and pray he could feel something more for her. Every girl wants a fairytale. But Kirby had caught that pained glitter in her eyes as she tried to walk away, tried to pretend it was nothing to her too. He’d backed off so quickly, so easily, and it stung to see how little it meant to him. But if she couldn’t have love, couldn’t she at least have this? It had made her want to turn back around, throw herself back in his arms and plead. Don’t go. Please don’t take this from me, I swear I won’t ask for more. Just don’t take this from me. The closest thing to love she’d ever find. Just a little bit of lust.
Seemed she was stronger than that, and kept walking.
For once, she cursed her strength to fucking hell.
So the universe was cruel indeed to send Reilly to her. Perfect Reilly. To shove it in her face how stupid and foolish she was. Because, finally, here was a man that had that other look in his eyes for her. The tender one. Impossible. This new one frightened her. She knew the lust, knew it meant nothing but a bit of fun. Just two people making each other’s bodies sing. She might have been able to handle that from Reilly, might have been able to bury her heart safely away and see what another man was like. Maybe. If she could loosen her grip on Kirby long enough. Maybe it would have even proven that lie, that it meant nothing to her too.
But there was more than heat in those blue-green eyes of his, and she didn’t know what to do about it. She didn’t know how to handle anything more than lust, had barely learned that one as it was. No matter what she did, she was going to hurt him somehow. Someday. In some way. She already had, hadn’t she?
So she listened to him with her eyes closed and her face resting on the ground so near him, listened with a heart that was learning to break further. What would she do if Reilly ever left? She couldn’t bear to imagine it. It wasn’t fair to him to need him this much. He said he wanted to stay, though. With the kids, with her. It punched at her heart when he said that. With her. Maybe she was just as cruel as Kirby somehow. Maybe she’d managed to tangle a heart she hadn’t meant to reach for. More than that, he wanted to be here. And he wanted her. Her eyes slid open at the painful ring of truth in it. Everything she ever wanted was right here, and her mangled heart didn’t know how to beat anymore. Not when it was so busy bleeding for a man that would never want her for more than her body. Not even that, now, actually. She was back to being nothing.
But not to Reilly. She was something to Reilly. Somehow.
She felt so confused and lost as she lifted her head to look at him, her brown eyes dark with uncertainty and fear. Afraid to screw up. Afraid to hurt him or make him leave somehow, afraid of being hurt too. The movement brought them even closer, but she forced herself not to back away. Just fight it, just a little. He was so tense, straining. Did he really want to touch her so badly? She was nothing, it shouldn’t matter so much to him. But he did want to, he said so. God, Lacey. I want to touch you. But I won’t. Not ever. Not until you ask me to. Until you want me to.
Of course, she wanted him to. Someone to hold her up and support her instead of unwittingly tossing her heart around. Someone to lean on when she was weak, until she could hold herself high again.
”I will never hurt you, Lace. Never.”
His eyes fell from hers, walked slowly, gently down her face to linger at her mouth. Her lips parted of their own will with a quiet catch in her breath, her heart racing uncertainly and her brows pinched in confusion. What was she supposed to do? What was right and wrong in something like this? No matter what she did, she was going to hurt him, wasn’t she? She was going to hurt herself, too. God, she didn’t know what to do. But she knew what he wanted. He wanted to touch her. All she had to do was ask. He should know better; she never asks. She would never beg or plead, she would never ask.
She swallowed and closed her eyes. No, she opened them. Had to see. She counted the inches between them again. Counted, counted, and they got smaller, and her pulse fluttered faster as she leaned closer. Her eyes lifted to his, a little wide, unsure, her confidence gone again. Was this okay? Was this right? It’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? He was sure, wasn’t he? Too late to ask, too late to question as her lips brushed across his nose. Warm, he was so warm, and his skin was like velvet. Not impossibly smooth like metal. Her chest tightened and she retreated, just barely, could still feel his breath on her.
Now what?
She didn't know, was so confused. So lost.
That's what he wanted, wasn't it? Now what?
With her eyes closed and face blank on the ground between them, it was so hard to read her. But it didn't stop him. Not this time. He'd had to tell her. She had to know. And so he poured himself out, softly into the space- such a small space- between them and fills the silence with the things he must tell her. It was easier, almost, to open himself up as she lay silently listening. And he knows she listens, even from behind the curtain of her eyelids. This time he would make himself clear, make sure she knows what he means to say.
His eyes never leave her face, especially not as he finally speaks aloud his simple truths. He wants her- and it is something far too deep to be only physical. His heart stutters as her lids slide open to reveal those chocolate pools once more, and he watches as the truths sink in. His gut churns, chest tight, in silent fear. She could reject him, he knows, even as he continues his admonitions to her. Further opening himself, making himself more vulnerable with every word from his lips.
He doesn't miss the confusion and fear coloring her face as she looks at him at last- and oh, the small space between them closes further as she lifts her head. He does not look away, doesn't let it sway him from finishing what he had needed to say. One day, hopefully soon, he would be the one to wipe away her fears. Her uncertainty and self-doubt. Rekindle the flame within her. He knows it's there- can see it spark every now and again. Like now, as he admits how he wants to touch her, but will not force it on her. That deep brown melts slowly into something softer as she considers. But she doesn't say anything. Hell, she doesn't have to. Such a fool. He should have known she wouldn't ask. She isn't the begging type, and that wasn't what he wanted anyway.
But there is more than one way to form a request, even without words. He watches silently, barely breathing- though he doesn't realize- as she considers, decides. Her lips part under his gaze of them, and his lids droop slightly. She swallows, he does too, combating the tightness in his throat. Yes, sweet dove, come to me. Her eyes close, and just as he might have made a sound of protest, she opens them again.
Eyes like molten chocolate meet his of turquoise waters. In answer to her uncertainty, he softens his face. He doesn't dare move nor breathe as she leans closer, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. Every heartbeat felt like an age, but he would not rush her.
Finally, her lips brush across his nose, feather light and downy soft. His breath escapes him on a stuttered sigh as something deep inside him breaks- any wall he'd had hopes of building between them crumbling into the abyss, the warring sea washing it away. His ears fall back and he inhales her salty-sweet scent.
Sensing her uncertainty, his heated gaze flickers to hers once more as she pulls slightly back. "Lace." A mere whisper of a sound, her name rolling off his tongue. He- gently, slowly- closes that small distance once more. His muzzle pressing lightly to hers. Heart racing, he trades breaths with her, soaking in her scent, consuming it. He measures her reaction, gently leading into the next step. Unable to fight it. His lips brush over hers, so softly, and revels in the way they feel. Angel soft. His muscles tense and he aches- oh, how he aches- to deepen it further. But he will not push her, will not force it from her. Dizzy with pleasure and the lightest sense of triumph, he stills himself. And waits. I am yours. Do what you will.
In this moment, he knows. He is forever, undoubtedly, wholly. Changed.
