Work Text:
This Thing Between Them
As his left hand slides back up along her thigh and then around, cupping her behind, dragging her fractionally closer to him, Helen lets out a sigh so loud that Max stops kissing her and starts laughing against her neck – a laugh so giddy that she feels her heart physically squeeze inside her chest with the love she has for him.
Entwined and both breathing heavily, they pause.
Max’s lips trail behind his nose, brushing along the length of her neck until he reaches her jawline where he stops, eying her warily, trying to get a read on her.
When she doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, he reaches to lay one feather soft kiss to her lips, murmuring, “we don’t… have to…” directly against her open mouth.
She watches the furrow in his brow deepen, notices the doubt creeping in behind his already cautious eyes, and wonders how she can possibly communicate all she wants to with her words so disconnected from her thoughts.
Helen feels tears prickle at the backs of her eyes and quickly squeezes them shut in an attempt to stop them from escaping, but it’s no use, two fat droplets spill down across her cheeks and disappear over the edge of her jawline, trailing a hot path down her neck.
She wants so much to just as easily spill her truth to him - as she’s always done - and tell him how much she loves him and yet how frustrated and angry she is with herself.
She wants him to know how tiring it is trying and so often failing to fix this… problem, and how lonely she has felt being away from him, desperately wanting him close but simultaneously too scared to let him in.
She’s bone weary holding all her thoughts and feelings inside herself when all she wants is to let it out, let him in, have him listen to it all and simply tell her it’ll be okay.
She feels a knot build in her chest and for a horrible moment she thinks she might actually scream, wonders momentarily whether crying out - making any sort of noise - might actually help get rid of the pain and the fear that’s trapped inside.
But before the dam bursts, he breaks her from her torment, whispering her name tenderly through her self imposed darkness.
Opening her eyes she finds all she needs is sat there in front of her, his kind eyes and patient face open and waiting to be whatever she needs.
For a moment it’s paralysing, but determination quickly bubbles inside her and the overwhelming need to feel something other than weak and fragile overpowers the fear of silence.
Swallowing nervously, Helen gently pushes him away and before he can even begin to protest, she follows after, rolling with him until he’s stretched out beneath her.
There’s so much anticipation between them all of a sudden, it’s reminiscent of the very first time they ever did this, all those months ago.
Sitting fully upright and looking down at him, she shrugs off her cardigan and then raises both arms above her head, quirking an eyebrow at him as a tiny smirk forms.
His earlier words echo between them…
Shirt, off.
The speed with which Max sits up and rids her of her grey tee – swiftly dragging it up and over her head – sends a shiver of anticipation throughout her entire being.
His eyes bore so deep into hers that she swears she can feel the exact moment their souls collide.
Something about the comforting weight of his hands on her thighs, along the way he’s watching her, makes her sigh softly, feeling utterly contented.
The last of her nerves evaporate.
All she wants from him, all she needs , are a few precious moments where there are no expectations for her to say anything, and for allowing her just that, she offers him a lazy, grateful smile.
Between kisses to his lips and cheek, neck and shoulder, Helen begins to run her hands along every piece of his exposed skin.
Slipping her hands under his sweater she skims her fingernails across his abdomen, thrilling at the way it makes him flinch beneath her and groan.
But it’s just not enough, and soon she’s got two handfuls of fabric clutched in her grasp and, just as she’d done, Max lifts up his arms.
His sweater joins the pile of her clothes collecting on the floor.
Gulping down air in the hopes it will steady her racing heart, Helen’s eyes lower to the space between them.
But Max, as always, has another plan entirely.
Like a well-practiced dance, his fingers travel up and along the bumps of her spine until they reach the clasp of her bra.
There, they grasp and twist and quickly free her aching breasts, the cool air causing her flushed skin to tighten instantly.
She watches his chest expand and his shoulders raise over and over as he drinks her in.
Helen can’t stop her head from falling back as Max leans forward and wraps his lips around one of her taut, hazel buds, the feel of his mouth on her sending sparks directly to her core.
Without thought, a long desperate moan escapes from deep inside her, the sound reverberating off every surface in the room.
Max’s response is to grip hold of her even tighter, tug her fractionally closer, his mouth hungrily moving across her flesh, devouring her, worshipping her.
He’s positively greedy for her, but it’s still not enough and soon she’s taking hold of his chin and tilting his face up towards her, her eyes begging him to understand.
The past few days and weeks have drained her, weakened her resolve, and made her question her very sense of self.
She wants to feel whole again, like herself again, and he knows how to that better than anyone else.
Max doesn’t make her wait another moment for it.
He firmly encircles her waist and hoists her backwards, swiftly lifting her up and off his lap.
As Helen stumbles to her feet, the air around them becomes more and more frenetic.
Like two impatient teenagers, they hastily strip off the remainder of their clothes and as soon as they are both naked, she crawls back into his lap where their mouths and hands and bodies come crashing back together.
She feels unbridled relief wash over her as she welcomes him inside, now completely free to take what she wants from him, do what she pleases, without having to ask.
Hips rolling forwards then backwards, side to side, circling around and around, she searches relentlessly until she finds the exact spot that makes her body hum with pleasure.
And Max just sits back and watches her, eyes fixed firmly to her as she silently takes from him.
At one point though, as the clammy skin of her breasts drag against the soft hair scattered across his chest, Helen realises that words have begun tumbling unchecked from her lips.
Please.
More.
Yes.
Max.
More.
Eyes flittering between open and closed, mouth intermittently and sloppily pressed against his, she can taste his breath on her tongue and she’s thrilled by the thought that her lungs are filled by him too.
Searching until she finds his hands - which have remained firmly planted on the tops of her thighs until now - Helen lifts one up to cup her breast and leads the other between her legs.
Max - God love him - makes quick work of both new tasks he has been given, dragging every possible sensation he can from her.
Weaving her hands deep into his hair, Helen pulls his face forward, pressing their mouths firmly together as her climax builds.
She revels in the sharp rush of air he lets out when she begins to quiver and clench around him, focusing all of her energy on hugging her walls tightly around him, holding him as close to her as possible.
Pulling away from him and willing her eyelids to remain open, Helen locks her gaze on to Max’s as she moans with each wave of pleasure that courses through her, needing him to understand exactly how good this feels for her.
That it is everything she wanted.
That he means everything to her.
Helen doesn’t look away until he empties himself inside her, his hands moving to gently rock her hips until long after he’s spilled every last drop of his seed deep within her.
It’s possibly the most intimate and sensual experience of her life.
Apart from those few moments of ecstasy when she couldn’t stop the words tumbling from her lips, neither one of them has said a word.
Running her fingers up and down his back, the thrum of her heart against her ribs slowly begins to subside, returning to normality, but they both remain quiet.
Glancing up through her lashes she finds exactly what she expected - her fiancé, gazing down at her, nothing but love and adoration evident in those beautiful pale blue eyes.
Her pulse quickens, nerves getting the better of her once more, threatening to close up her throat again.
But not this time.
Emotionally and physically striped bare, when she decides she wants to tell him she loves him, the words slip off her tongue like butter from a hot knife, like they’d been there all along, just waiting to be let out.
They evoke a shy, quiet smile from Max and she’s giddy with happiness at how easy it felt to say them.
One day, she thinks - when she has her voice fully restored - she’ll tell him how it felt for her in that moment, how easily those three little words had come to her, but for today she just lets them hang between them, suspended in the air around them.
Still intimately connected - literally and figuratively tethered to one another - his patience and understanding, his unwavering determination to show her he’s here no matter what, leaves her feeling heady with love for him.
Max managed to communicate that he was listening and that he could hear here, while remaining completely silent.
That silence wraps around them now like a physical force, holding them both close in its embrace, and she watches Max’s smile slowly spread wider while his brows raise knowingly.
His continued silence speaks volumes.
Don’t you see?
And she does.
This thing between them, the love that they share, it simply transcends words.
______
Notes:
Something about Freema’s cute little giggle on that sofa, having just ripped my heart out 20 minutes earlier, made my brain and fingers kick into action.
Hope this keeps you going until Monday evening!
:)