Plié and Clout

Chapter 42: The Meaning of Touch

MATURE CONTENT WARNING: TW: MENTION OF ABUSE

okay, so I guess I should probably preface that TW, it's not directly experienced, however it is heavily referred to and is the topic of conversation. If it makes you uncomfortable or if you can't read it for any reason, I put a gentle summary at the bottom.

-rabid

ps: song; unconditional- matt maeson

***

AUGUST

When we started this week, I honestly didn't know what I was in for, but at this point, we've had probably too much sex, too much take out, and have had too many badly timed heart-to-heart conversations. Mostly just sex. We can have the other two whenever we want, but it's a rare thing to have time where Jilly isn't here. It's only Thursday and my body is already worn out. I thought I was going to be able to make it to Friday no problem, but Steph's giving me a run for my money.

I think I am too because he spends most of his time not eating and not at work, passed out. We get home from work, eat a little, go for it, settle in for a movie, end up having sex again, he naps for the rest of the movie and then it's bedtime, which involves, you guessed it, another round. Then occasionally we're up in the middle of the night and even once before work. It's like the last months of being together but not in the ways we needed all caught up and dumped out. We'd only had a couple of cramped nights in the car beforehand and once at my apartment, probably under ten times. Now it's multiplied exponentially and we can't keep our hands off each other. 

It might actually officially be Friday right now, but we haven't slept yet.

"Steph," I poke him in the stomach, then crawl on top of him, cozying down on his chest. "Tell me about you."

"What about me do you want to know?" he breathes under me and I start to trace his skin with my fingertips, over his bicep and down to his forearm, laced and pulled with muscle. He's warm to the touch.

"A lot of things, past things, I want to know about her." I look him right in the eyes. "Only if you're okay with talking about it."

"I figure it's about time I say something, anything," He sighs, then tries to throw a smile into it. "Only if I can pester you about that guy you hated in high school."

"You can ask all the questions you want about Garrett, he was the worst three years of my life," I settle down for Steph to start talking. But he doesn't. He lies under the covers and stares up at the ceiling, one arm under his head, one rubbing my back.

"I... give me a second to think about how to say all this." 

I nod, tracing the veins on his arm from my position on his chest. Steph's fingers travel up my arm at the same pace that mine are trailing down his. They meet in the center in one tingly goosebump filled moment, knotting together. 

"We should start when we met," He breathes out, then in again. He's keeping himself calm. "She came to one of my games, she wanted to use the rink as a location for a shoot. They told me to lead her around, I was new on the team, a rookie, they didn't like me very much, but that's okay because I still had Rocket."

In. Out. In. Out.

"We hit off rather well, but she made me uneasy. I should've left it there." He coughs, then keeps breathing. "She gave me her number, invited me to go to the North End for dinner the next night. I couldn't say no, she was beautiful, Rocket and the guys pressured me into it." He winces and takes another deep breath.

"I went, and, it was a date, nothing more. An expensive restaurant, I paid, that wasn't good, but, I did it. I wanted to impress her." He sighs and his voice breaks. "That was the first date. The first date was also the first time we had sex, I know it doesn't chronologically make sense, but we had spent about five hours together, and all she had done was talk over me, I felt kind of like I knew her. Again, I was young and dumber."