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.]

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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.

Chuck stays still for a moment once he's slid into her, breathing in deep, ducking his head to press a kiss to the curve of her neck. She really is fucking stunning, and the way she moves under him just makes him that much more eager, but he doesn't want to do too much, too fast, and anyway, it's practically overwhelming. It isn't like it's been that long since he last had someone in his bed — there are some perks to having a houseguest — but it's never been Beth before, and this whole turn of events is a lot to try to process. He doesn't really think there's that much point in trying to do so now, anyway.

Finally, he rocks his hips forward against her, fingers still pressing into her thigh where her leg is wrapped around him, moving slowly, steadily, trying to will his breathing to do the same thing. That's all but useless, though, as he suspects drawing this out will be before very long at all. Even inside her, he wants her so badly he can hardly stand it, and though he fully intends to follow her lead, he doubts he'll be able to hold back entirely for much longer.

Suddenly he's deeper inside of her and a soft little gasp slips out of Beth followed by a low sound of pleasure and she lifts her hips up toward Chuck in response, trying to get that again, to encourage him. Earlier she had worried what he might think if he knew what she liked, if he knew a little bit of pain only made her feel better, if he knew she loved when marks were left behind, but she isn't thinking about that now.

All she wants is for him to know he doesn't need to treat her like she's breakable. Somehow she feels like she can trust him to understand that.

"Chuck," she groans and shifts her hips up, changing the angle. The fingers he has pressing into her skin are perfect and she drags her nails down his back, not enough to really hurt, but hard enough that he can feel them. "God, you can... more..." As much as she wants to tell him, it's hard to communicate verbally at the moment and she laughs breathlessly, a sound that melts back into pleasure.

He almost asks her what she means. It's such a vague sentence, just a fragment of one, and when they've never done this before, Chuck doesn't want to take the wrong impression from it and risk this turning into something she doesn't like or want. Between the choice of words, though, and the way her nails drag down his back, he finds that it isn't too difficult to guess at her meaning. More generally speaks for itself, and it isn't something he needs to be told twice.

Nodding absently, he kisses her again, and this time, he thrusts into her a little harder, gradually starting to pick up speed as he goes. Already, the way she sounds, the way she feels — maybe it isn't so different from others he's been with, but at the same time, it is. This doesn't have to be about anything more than just sex for that to be the case. Beth is maybe the last person he ever thought would be in his bed, at least after she ended things, but here they both are, and it feels so fucking good.

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August 12

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