a_littlefaith | August 12

August 12

It's been over two months since she realized she was dead. Almost eight weeks since Daryl disappeared. A little over four weeks since he had come back and she'd realized he was another person entirely, not the man she had been set to marry. It's a lot to have happen to anyone in a two month period and for a time she'd felt completely lost, faltering in a way she hadn't liked. It had just seemed easier to crawl into bed and pull the blankets over her head so she wouldn't have to face the world or maybe to take after her father and drink herself into a state where she wouldn't have to care about any of it.

In the end, it's Maggie's example she'd decided to follow. One morning about two weeks ago, she had taken off the moonstone ring Daryl had given her, taken it off for good, and placed it back in the box it had come in. Then she had carefully, lovingly tucked the box in the drawer beside her bed and closed it away. It's what Maggie would have done. It isn't giving up, because Maggie never would have done that, but it's accepting the reality of what is instead of what used to be. Nothing she can do will change the Daryl who's here into the Daryl who left, she has to accept that.

Her sister would have told Beth to look after herself, not to forget about her own needs, so she'd put the ring away, knowing it's the fairest thing she can do for herself and for Daryl. Until she can talk to him about what they used to be, having that reminder of what had come before doesn't do anyone any good. So she takes the ring off and she tries to get back to normal.

Friday night rolls around and she has a gig at a small bar, about thirty minutes worth of material she's written in the past several months. None of the songs are about Daryl, she's been very careful about that, but she likes what she's written. Maybe some of this pain is worth it if it gives her good song writing material. When she sings she feels a little less childlike, a little more like an adult, and she has to wonder how much these past few months have forced her into growing up.

It's scary to think she hadn't felt this much like an adult before and it's sad to think that's what pain does to a person.

But she's smiling by the time she wraps up and her heart feels lighter than it has in some time. Her curls are clinging to her cheeks and her forehead and the back of her neck, the bar hot and damp, the night air warmer still, and as she heads away from the bar -- maybe she'll go home or maybe it's time for a weekend visit to one of her friends -- she finds she actually feels good. Not better, not normal, but good.

[I set it up to let people find her in a variety of places, whatever works best. Out on the street, in the bar where she's playing, at her apartment or their apartment if they'd want her to come visit.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It feels good, being in his lap like this, the way he's touching her, his hand on her breast, and her body rolls slightly, pressing into his touch, trying to fit her hips closer still to his. It's a little easier now, just listening to her body, letting it do what it wants instead of worrying what he might think, and it isn't only that she's a little more experienced now, but that she isn't as shy in general.

Too much has happened lately for her not to go after the things she wants. A little part of her thinks Maggie would be proud of that.

Her hands smooth over his back, across warm, well muscled skin, and she grins a little again, faintly giddy with the sensation that this is actually something that's happening. It's easy to kiss him, easier still to reach up behind her and unhook her bra, letting gravity take care of it as she shakes one arm free and then the other.

Chuck moves his hand, sliding it down to her waist instead, only long enough to let her bra fall off and push it aside. He reaches for her breast again a moment later, his palm pressed against warm skin this time, thumb brushing her nipple. This part is instinct as much as anything else, the sort of thing he's done countless times, and yet, it's different, too, where Beth is concerned. While he's not about to attach more weight to it than either of them is looking for here, it doesn't feel right just to put her in the same category as other people he's had meaningless sex with. Even when he wanted to act otherwise, she always meant something to him.

It's increasingly easy not to think about things like that, though, with her body pressed against his, his hips shifting slightly against hers, and he lets out a faint groan against her mouth as he leans into the kiss.

In another world, she knows another version of her would put more weight on this than necessary. She would have worried about the decision, worried about what Chuck might be thinking, worried about what would come after, but she feels like she's left that person far behind.

Everything has changed. She has changed and it's so much easier than it would have once been to drag her hands down Chuck's chest between them, her fingertips lighting dancing across his stomach before they fall to his jeans where she carefully undoes the button. She's not in a rush, she wants to enjoy this, but there's a little spark of excitement quivering through her at the thought of seeing someone else.

For the first time, she's doing something new, something she thought she'd never do.

The longer this goes on, the more she does, the easier it is not to second-guess everything, to wonder if they're making a really stupid decision or if they should be taking this slower. He's never really been all that good at slow anyway, though he'd have tried for her, and maybe it is stupid, making it is a mistake, but if so, it's one they clearly both want to make. No matter how this ends up, it can't be any worse than the way things were between them after they broke up, anyway.

Chuck isn't and never has been the apologetic type, and he knows he'd been justified in being angry with her, but some small part of him somewhere in the back of his head knows that he was meaner than she deserved at that New Year's party, little of it though he remembers now.

This isn't the time to think about any of that, though, his breath hitching when she undoes the button of his jeans, one hand still cupping her breast, the other moving down to her ass, holding her close. She's beautiful, and he thinks he should tell her so, but it's easier to keep kissing her.

It feels so good already. There's heat shivering down her spine, pooling low in her belly, lower than that still, and she can feel her cheeks and chest are flushed, pink with pleasure. Although there isn't much she can do from this angle, not when they're both sitting, she still somehow worms her hand between them, and as much as she just wants to roll her hips and press herself down against him, there's something so unexpectedly exciting about sliding her palm over the outline of his length and she almost laughs. Not because it's funny at all, because it isn't. Because she's touching him nearly two years after they had first started dating, after she'd broken up with him, after he'd been so angry with her and she knows she's deserved it, but it doesn't change how funny this all it.

She can't laugh, though, because he feels so good against her palm and her heart is pounding and she can't wait to get her hand on him for real, to feel the weight of him in her palm, to feel the heat, the smoothness of his skin.

"Chuck," she breaths, pressing her palm against him, wanting to create that sort of friction, but wanting to get him completely undressed all at the same time. "Oh my God."

If this felt surreal before, it sure as hell doesn't now, the way Beth presses her hand against him grounding him immediately in the present moment. He's done this sort of thing countless times before, so it's not like it's anything new. For that matter, he's not crazy; he knows this doesn't mean anything, not in the way it would have when they were still together, and he doubts he'd be all that interested if it did. Still, the fact that it's Beth here in his lap is significant in its own right, all of this as big a deal as it is not one. Besides, he's finding his footing with her, not sure what she likes or doesn't like or how she wants to do this. She's obviously got more experience now than she did when they were together — that just stands to reason, and he'd have been crazy to expect otherwise, even if he'd also rather not think too much about that — and he can't just take that for granted.

"Yeah," he says, an exhale of a laugh against her mouth, a little breathless as he leans in to kiss her again. They should get on the bed fully, and, for that matter, get rid of the rest of their clothes, but just for the moment, it's difficult to move away from her, her skin warm against his and under his palm where it's settled on her breast, her hand down his jeans. "You can say that again."

"You," she says breathlessly against his mouth, caught up somewhere in between kissing him and getting her hand all the way into his jeans, into his boxers, past the material covering him because she wants to actually feel him.

Not all that long ago, she would have been scared. She would have been nervous, reluctant and hesitant, wanting to touch and yet too frightened to go through with it. Now, though, she knows what it feels like to hold someone in her hand like that and the thought of it being someone else, of it being Chuck sends a thrill of anticipation down her spine.

"You," she tries again, but she's still kissing him and it's hard to do anything but use both her hands now, tugging his jeans open the rest of the way, pushing the material down, and then one hand is wrapping around his cock and she stills for a moment, breathing against his mouth. "You feel so good."

Chuck, too, is too focused on kissing her to spare all that much thought for trying to say anything, breath catching in his throat when her hand wraps around him. Likewise more important is trying to figure out how best to move without moving away, something he's that much less inclined to do at the moment. He can, at least, shift enough to get his jeans past his hips, working his way out of them completely so he can kick them aside. All they're doing now is getting in the way, and this might not be anything outside of the ordinary for him, but that doesn't make him any less eager for more.

"Fuck, Beth," he finally says, that same trace of a laugh in his voice, his free hand sliding up her back, into her hair. "Feel better once we're not just sitting here."

She laughs a little, amazed this is even happening, feeling the heat of Chuck's thighs even through her own jeans and she knows he's got a point, this will all be even better once they really get into the bed, once they get the rest of their clothes off, but she's reluctant to slide off his lap. He's warm and hard and she leans into the hand he has in her hair. She likes how that feels and the shiver that runs down her spine is impossible to hide, not that she bothers, that she even wants to try. She wants Chuck to know how she feels, so much she's enjoying this.

For such a long time she'd thought sex was something to be ashamed of, not something to be celebrated, and now she has no idea how she's ever thought it. Not when it feels so nice.

And even though she doesn't want to get off him, she reluctantly slips off his lap and onto the bed, still facing him, pushing herself back onto the bed and toward the pillows. Biting her bottom lip, she glances down at her own jeans, her gaze drifting to the button and fly, a fairly clear invitation of what she wants of him.

It just about speaks for itself, the way Beth's gaze moves down to her jeans once she's lying back on the bed. Even if it weren't for that, Chuck wouldn't waste any time in pulling himself up onto the bed fully so he can settle over her. With his weight on one hand, he kisses her, the other reaching between them to undo the button of her jeans. This part, really, is familiar, routine, no matter who he's with, but that doesn't mean he isn't going to take his time and enjoy it. Beth deserves that, and there's no reason to hurry. Maybe what they're doing isn't under the same circumstances it would have been if they'd gone to bed together while they were still dating, but that doesn't mean he wants to make too little of it.

Head ducking so he can press his lips to her jaw, then her neck, he moves lower over her, absently trailing kisses down over her collarbone and between her breasts, the flat plane of her abdomen, and once he's reached the waist of her jeans, he finally tugs the zipper down, shifting enough that he can take them off her without getting tangled in the fabric. A mishap like that now might kill the mood a little, and that wouldn't be helpful for either of them.

The thought occurs to her suddenly that Chuck's weight is on her, that he's very nearly naked, and a deep shudder goes through her at the realization, as if she hasn't been the one undressing him. He's not a small man, heavier than she would have thought, and she likes that, the idea of him on top of her, pressing her into the mattress, the strength in his body that she'd honestly had no idea of before. It had always been an abstract, because of course he would be strong, but now as she lifts her hands and runs them over his shoulders and down his arms as he presses his mouth to her skin, she can really understand it.

"Chuck," she breathes, lifting her hips to make it easier for him to tug her jeans down and then off, leaving her in a simple pair of cotton underwear. She's never really bothered with anything fancy, not after having lived on a farm for so long, but she's suddenly glad she's wearing the cute purple pair instead of her plain old white ones.

She's torn right now, between wanting more of his mouth on her and wanting to touch him, wanting to get her hands on him, maybe even wanting to use her mouth on him and even the thought makes her squirm with pleasure, pressing her thighs tight together.

Only once he's gotten her jeans off, leaving Beth as close to naked as he is himself, does Chuck realize that he hasn't exactly thought this through. All of this, he's given more consideration than he has with most of the other women he's been with, because she's Beth and because when they were together, they never did anything more than kiss, but that doesn't mean he's working with a plan, just instinct. And for as second-nature as a lot of this might be, instinct doesn't help him make up his mind when there are about a dozen things he wants to do, and when he doesn't know if he'll get another chance to. She's beautiful, slight under him, though he knows deceptively so, and this opportunity isn't one he wants to waste.

Finally, he shifts back up over her to kiss her again, hips rolling instinctively against hers. When she clearly hasn't had a problem with any of this so far, it doesn't occur to him to be self-conscious, either, just to keep kissing her, one hand supporting his weight on the mattress, the other sliding over her ribs and waist to her hip, fingers snagging briefly against fabric on their way. He's never seen her like this, never touched her like this, and he wants to learn every inch of her now that he can.

For a second it's like he's just looking at her and Beth can feel a flush creeping over her body, starting on her chest and rising to her cheeks. It isn't bad, though, she likes the way he's looking at her and she squirms slightly on the bed, squeezing her thighs together before her legs spread without thought, welcoming his weight between them. She arches up to meet his kiss, eager for his mouth, her tongue flicking out cautiously at first, testing the press of his lips, the taste of him.

And then he rolls his hips and a soft breath sort of stutters out of her, her eyes fluttering open for just a moment before she's kissing him again. She wants that. She wants him, wants to feel him inside her, and she counts back, half out of her mind already, trying to figure out how long it's been, if it's going to hurt at all, and she decides she doesn't care. She's always sort of liked when it's hurt just a little.

She twists, trying to help him with her underwear, the toes of one foot dragging up the back of his calf as her hands roam his shoulders and his back, sliding down and then over his ass.

There are things Chuck thinks he should say, things he should ask her, but they've taken this slow enough by now that she's had every chance to throw on the brakes if she wanted to, and he has to trust that she would. The way she reacts, however wordlessly, seems to say enough anyway, and he kisses her that much harder for it, even as he shifts to try to finish undressing her. It's really probably something he should have taken care of before he got on top of her, but there's only so much thought he can put into this, and that's currently divided evenly between how badly he wants her and trying to get this right. Even if it is just sex, there's still a weight here that there wouldn't be with someone else, maybe because this is so unexpected.

When he pulls back, it's only for air, his forehead close to hers. He'll have to move away soon anyway, to reach one of the condoms in his nightstand drawer, but that can wait a few moments longer, at least until they've both gotten the last of their clothes out of the way. For the time being, it's too hard to stop touching her, the one downside to having settled over her like this meaning he has to keep his weight braced on one hand.

A little part of her thinks she should find something to say, but they're both so close to undressed and she's got her fingers hooked in the waist of his underwear, tugging them down, wanting to feel him in her hand again, pressed up against her hip, wanting to see him for the first time, this wordless fascination she has with knowing what he looks like, what all of him looks like.

She's still working to get him undressed when he pulls back and her eyes flutter open enough that she can smile at him, a lazy sort of smile, her lips not quite pressed together as she draws in little sips of air. She can't really catch her breath, the room feels warm, heat pressing down on her, an ache building between her legs, and all she wants is for Chuck to touch her.

"Chuck, I-" She has to pause as she pushes his underwear out of the way, reaching her hand between them to make sure nothing gets caught and then she grins again, her palm gliding against him. "I'm glad we're doin' this."

It seems like such a simple, strange thing to say that Chuck can't help but let out a laugh, one that isn't much more than an exhale against her mouth. He's not really sure what else there is to be said, but then, it's increasingly difficult to think straight with Beth underneath him, the both of them getting the last of their clothes out of the way. Though he's always known she was beautiful, he's never thought about her like this, not really. When they were dating, he'd think about going further than they ever actually did, but never in a concrete way, and after, he never had reason to believe that they'd be here. There've been enough others in that time, anyway, that there'd have been no sense in imagining his ex.

Now, she's something other than that, bizarre as it is to consider her a friend after everything. He's not sure what other word there would be for it, though. Right now, he's not sure it matters. "Yeah," he says quietly, forehead against hers and a groan in his throat. "Me too."

She grins again, a little more heated, then surges back up toward him to catch his mouth in another kiss. Her fingers wrap around him and she knows her hand isn't exactly big, but playing piano and guitar for such a long time has its benefits, and she can stretch her hand, make it seem bigger than it really is, make sure she touches more of him.

Kissing him like this, she can't really look down the length of their bodies, but she tips her head a little to the side, her eyes open, looking down at where her hand disappears between them and she squeezes just a little, twisting her wrist around the head of his cock. She wants him to feel good. She wants to be the one to make him feel good.

"Jesus, Beth," Chuck says, breath catching in his throat when he draws back from kissing her. It's not like it's surprising that she knows what she's doing, though this is hardly the time for him to think about why that's the case, but it's still such a far cry from the way things were the last time they were together that the way she touches him is a little unexpected anyway. As far as he's concerned, that's a good thing. He wouldn't want this to be just like any other time he's slept with anyone.

Shifting his weight to one hand, he skims the other up over her hip, then her side, settling it on her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It's still in the back of his head that he's going to have to pull away soon, at least enough to reach the nightstand, but she's warm under him and he can't bring himself to just yet. There isn't really any reason to hurry.

She makes a soft little whimpering noise at the feel of his hand on her breast and she's suddenly very aware of just how big he is. Taller and broader than Daryl, his hand bigger against her skin, and she arches up toward that feeling, her legs spreading for him, welcoming him closer.

For another brief little moment, she wonders if it's going to hurt at all. If it's been long enough that she'll feel how different her body is now. She sort of hopes she can.

With one more long, slow stroke, she releases him, then hooks her leg higher, pressing up, feeling the length of him rubbing against the inside of her thigh and she groans a little. It's not really a surprise, how much she wants him, but it still sends little sparks of pleasure zipping down her spine.

Chuck can't help but groan at the way her body shifts under his, the warmth of her skin and the press of her leg against the length of him. The sound winds up muffled against her mouth when he kisses her again, though he ducks his head after that, lips brushing against her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. Especially as she draws him closer, the last thing he wants to do is put any distance between them, but it's becoming increasingly a necessity. He doesn't want to wait much longer, and he gets the impression that she doesn't, either.

It doesn't take much, at least, to reach the nightstand he keeps beside his bed, even though he has to let go of her to do it, his chest twisting sideways as he leans over to open the drawer and fumble for the condoms that he knows are in there. In a way, it's almost funny. He never had to worry about this sort of thing back home, spent so little time going to bed with anyone that there was no real need to plan ahead for it. In Darrow, though, that's been different, his life here a far cry from what it used to be. Ordinarily, that bothers him. Right now, this close to Beth and wanting her so badly, unable to think about much else, it's hard to imagine wishing he could be anywhere other than where he is.

It's so easy just to lay back and watch him when he moves. She knows exactly what he's looking for and she takes the opportunity to watch the way his muscles shift under the skin, how strong his arms are, the curve of his shoulders. She glances down between them, at his cock trapped between their bodies, and finds herself grinning.

They're not getting back together, that isn't what this is about, and she's almost glad of that. Given everything, she can't handle something like that right now and while Beth knows she still wants it, she still eventually wants long term and marriage and all those things, she's in no rush to get there. Not anymore.

"Chuck," she breathes, then wets her lips. "I want you." She wants him to know that. It isn't just about forgetting, she wants him in particular.

"Yeah," Chuck says, a breath against her mouth. "Me, too." As difficult as it may be to process what's happened, that not long ago they were just talking in an elevator and now they're here, there's absolutely no denying the fact of that, either, a visceral sensation that he couldn't deny if he tried. Just because he didn't expect this doesn't make it any less true. There's something almost relieving about it, too, a way of putting the past behind them, or so it seems to him. For so long, he was so bitter, so resentful, and he let go of that a while ago, but now it seems further away than ever.

He kisses her again before he does anything else, teeth catching on her lower lip. It isn't easy, shifting his weight to tear the condom open, but he manages, practiced enough that this part is all practically second nature. It's the rest that isn't, no one exactly the same; he wouldn't want them to be, something that's especially true now, with Beth. This doesn't have to be a big deal for him to want it to be good.

She watches hungrily as he opens the condom, rolling it down, her lower lip pulled between her teeth so she can keep herself from groaning too loudly already. Even just watching him, though, it sends a shiver of heat licking through her and she rolls her hips up, a needy little gesture she's unable to control.

When he's done, it's so easy to press forward, to wrap herself around him, her arms around his shoulders, one leg hooking around his hips, her thighs spread for him. It doesn't have to mean anything big for them, but at the same time it's still something for her. The first man besides Daryl, the only other person she's ever been with, and she can feel anticipation shivering through her at just the thought of being able to experience something new.

"Come on," she breathes, her hands sliding down his back, toward his ass. "Please."

There's a part of him, instinctively, that wants to ask if she's sure she wants to do this, knowing that, in a few moments, there won't be any turning back. For him, this might be normal, but not that long ago, she was engaged, and he doesn't want her to rush into something that she might regret, or to be the cause of that. The way she presses her body against his, though, and the sound of her voice urging him on, make fairly clear that that isn't a concern. They've had plenty of time to turn back. And if it does turn out that she changes her mind, he'd never hold it against her. After all, he never expected to be here at all, and even when he was so resentful towards her, he never really stopped caring about her. The last thing he'd want is to risk ruining anything.

As it is, he grins a little after she speaks, one hand still between them so he can wrap it around the length of his dick. "Yeah, alright," he says, half-teasing, and slowly, carefully, slides into her, groaning as he does, fingers pressing into her thigh where she's got her leg wrapped around him once he's moved his hand again. That she feels incredible is hardly a surprise, but that doesn't make it any less true.

It does hurt, just a little, but she'd expected it and she knows what to do. Closing her eyes, she tilts her hips a little, allowing the muscles in her thighs and her pelvis to relax so the pain lessens and it's only a moment or two before that burning sensation curls in on itself and turns into something else entirely. A good kind of heat, the sort she knows will build and build until she can't take it anymore.

Her back arches, the leg around him tightens and she presses up toward him, opening her eyes, wanting to see him, to see how he looks as he slides into her.

"Chuck," she groans, rolling her hips, a soft little hiss escaping her at another sudden flare of pain that melts into pleasure almost immediately. "Oh... my God... I..." But she has no idea what she wants to say, how to explain how good he feels.

August 12

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