Folded Fondant ~ Sebastian

Saint and Sinner *Part 38*

The door in the hallway clicked shut.

Well, this evening didn't end as one would've hoped.

I was still trying to puzzle out what possessed me to say fuck it in the kitchen before adequately warming Lia up to the idea of what I clearly had in mind.

Honestly, I just couldn't take it. There she sat, pulling me in with every word, every look. Looking a little rumpled from sleep, bright-eyed, and always hungry for whatever I was experimenting with. Surprising me at every turn. The licking and sucking of the frosting was the last thread snapping.

Lia had me wrapped around her fucking finger and I couldn't pinpoint when exactly it happened. I didn't seem to care so long as it was her finger.

She needed to know her options and what better way to show her than to lay my cards on the table?

Maybe I should have worked up to mauling her against the wall with the bar stool on the verge of tipping. But it had been Lia who'd really pushed us to that point. I was working off of her queues, her sounds. Her movements. She always held the reigns; she was the one who had to decide.

It only took that one empty hour the other night to shake me awake and realize I needed to at least try a little harder. This fantastic moment was a future we could have, she only needed to reach out for it.

Every second of that half-hour was my best presentation. Look at this, I was saying, see what it could be? See what we could have? I'm holding the pieces you gave me, I know the risk but I'm willing to fight for this. Are you?

Eils was right, Lia was afraid to want it. That was perfectly clear now. The clues were always there, her telling me that leaving this behind was tearing her apart, but my safety came first because of what I meant.

It's a shame I had my head so far up my ass—which required a talk with Ma, Eils, and Blake to surgically remove—that I hadn't picked up on it sooner. Eh, it was probably denial...

I can't regret giving her space to figure this out. There was never a doubt that in the end, it was her call. I stand by my original decision to be a helping hand if that's all she needed.

But...

I could have been honest with her and showed her every path that was a choice. Meaning me. I was a choice.  Only I hadn't wanted to pressure her, which also isn't a bad thing, but wasn't very helpful. As such, she's been beating herself up over leaving, and I've been beating myself up for not being able to help. 

A nice big pot of  "this is bullshit" stew.  It's a good thing Blake wasn't directly connected to my thoughts, otherwise, my phone would be blowing up. 

The reality is that I'm doing neither one of us any favors by leaving little hints around like bread crumbs. She doesn't need the means for a rat infestation, she needs the whole dame loaf. So I'll bake her the biggest damn loaf I can fit in my oven. 

I mean she was leaving anyway so what difference will it make if I'm wrong? I'm going to hurt over this no matter what and so was she. My argument from the talk with Puppet seemed weak now.

Indifference would be better for her, sure. I just know she's not indifferent. Our make-out session in the kitchen was proof enough. Her taking that moment was my proof. We, as we were, was proof enough.

I definitely wasn't imagining the way she pulled me forward or held on. I know how it would have ended. But she was still leaving and I can't manipulate her with sex. That I wouldn't be able to justify. Lia always required a foundation to be built since her's has always been so loose.