Hey guys next update will be Friday :)
Enjoy!
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Think about something else--anything else. Think about the test. Yeah. She was pretty sure it went well. Felt good.
Charlotte bit at her lip recalling the tremors of Roberts touch ghosting over her hands as she'd handed the test in. Their eyes locking for only a second as that small smile spread over his lips.
Then a wash of proudness gutted her in the best sense because she was getting better. And she could do this small easy task.
Walk a few steps, look around and viola, done. Easy. Like the way she could (sorta) handle touches and walking close to her friends and kissing Robert. She was doing it and it was okay. She was healing. Slowly but she was. It was something and looking back from where she had come, it felt like a big step. Although her friends were also connecting certain dots about Charlottes mystery self.
Maybe that was okay, that they were... understanding her. She liked the idea of that, maybe. Izzie and George hardly ever touched her unless it was a high five which Izzie quite enjoyed giving out. Sometimes she thought maybe the two of them had forgotten what they'd seen that first day of school but with the gentleness that they treated her with suggested otherwise. Not to say she didn't appreciate that because she very much so did, it was just odd that they figured it out yet her freaking parents hadn't.
Or was that was unfair to say? Her parents knew something was amiss, they just hadn't been afforded much time with her to really notice. They (or more her mother) probably thought it to be more along the lines of acting out rather than anything else. Her dad, well. He had always been able to read her like a book so he was probably just lost and worried.
Maybe she should talk to them. Open up and just give them some information. The little things she herself was just beginning to admit. Like how she wasn't okay but she was getting there now. How she had improved. She certainly wouldn't tell them anything that would get her separated from Molly but maybe if she told them something, they'd lay off and she'd finally have that understanding she so badly wants from them.
She thinks she's ready for that. Might be best for all of them and lessen the cracks between them to be not so wide and not so separating. Or at least let her dad in. That'd be nice. She trusts him (she hopes). As long as she says the right thing in the right way that rightfully explains herself, then all would be fine(?).
But what to say?
Reaching the third floor, exiting the climb of considerably smaller, steeper steps, her eyes round in awe. She knew that some part of her, tiny and squeaking with excitement, was informing her it was what you'd expect from movies or some romantic novel filled to the brim with fluffy conversations and hushed whispers, that this place was indeed all her childhood dreams flushed into one but there was always the other side to it as well.
The opposite little voice in her head, fleeting from accusation to accusation, theory to theory, warned her that there were few people around. That the floors were creepy creaky and fittingly entrenched in potential hollywood horror film types. The books here older, some collecting dust rather than reads. That this place would be perfect for--
Glancing down an aisle, she sees long bent legs with an arched back leaning against a plethora of old covered books sitting on high narrow shelves.
Sitting contently on the stained wooden floors, just as shiny as his expensive shoes, hunched over a book. Invested pupils digesting black ink on beige-ing white paper.
The distant sounds of chatter from the floors below, the odd clatter of clumsy behaviour not stirring the professor from the green leather backed book resting in his palms. Not even her feet as they silently toed over to the man.
Flattening down her sleeves from previously rigid hands, she approaches. "Hey stranger."
Robert visibly has to tear his eyes away from the page, an easy child like wonder gracing his face, brightening his eyes as they rest on her. "Hey yourself."
"Whatchya reading?" Finding herself seated opposite of Robert, one foot tucked under the other, knees bent into her chest. Legs close to his in the small aisle but not touching.
He swiftly flips the cover to her viewing pleasure, speaking along with her drifting eyes, "The History Of Lymphatic Diseases."
A perfect 'o' shaping her mouth. "Very nice."
He grins, showing off his pearly whites. "Thanks to my older brother, I'm a bit of a history buff of anything and everything. That along with other things." He looks like he wants to snatch the flow of words from his mouth, not intending the insinuation, but she calms him.
Gently teasing him with a soft bump of her foot against his.
He settles, huffing out before that bit of mischief leaches back into his system. "And your book," pointedly looking at her empty grip. "Is it MIA? Or just taking a short break?" Raising a brow, lip quirking into a developing smirk.
The simple act filling her fluttering chest with butterflies. Trying to shake it away to give a proper tainted sweet response. "Well I was searching for comics but, you know, I got distracted." Eyes brashly meeting his chocolate dipped rings.
A tilt of his chin, book resting on his knees, "So it's my fault? Is that what I'm hearing Miss Joseph?" Nothing but play in his tone.
Brows raised, and lips thinning in a way that said 'sorry to say but yep' as her retort.
The brown haired man tsk's, the air between them heavy as it shifts to the opposites shining red lips.
Conscious that they are somewhere very public, she drags her attention to the shelves lined against her back, quick to snatch whatever is there, not all that interested in the biomechanics of vegetation but nonetheless it stole her attention away from pressing a deep kiss to Roberts lips.
Not that he thought to do the same--looking away that is. She could almost physically feel the weight--the intensity of his gaze trailing her features. Her stubbornly blood filled ears not exactly hiding the fact that she knew he was doing so.
She not even visibly seeing the printed words less than five inches from her face, too caught up in thoughts and feelings--of this new want for Roberts touch that was more than just warmth. As if deciding now was the time to come to those delicious decisions.
A stirring fact that she knew what his touch pressed to hers felt like, how it made her feel like she was gracing the tops of powdery white clouds, and yellow beams of sunshine.
A new concept dug out from under layers and layers of mud in her mind. The thought for more she had never had, especially not these last few months, felt the need for. Not for, well. Not for, for... S-s-sex, but closer, to just--step up the level they sat on. She was feeling... Brave and the rush of heat gathering from the core of her chest as she listens to Robert shifting, knowing he's so close, so warm and safe, all that, does nothing to slow her building courage on really tasting those lush pouting lips.
"There's uh," his rusty voice tinged with that low shaking vibrato, of course her eyes locking with his as she peers at him, unwavering. "The comics you said you were looking for," Nodding to the long stretching hall of books. "They're down at the end, to the right."
Her brows knit together as she stares off down the darker space.
"Unless you're enjoying learning about plants and weeds."
She rolls her head towards him again, grinning. "Flowers too."
"Oh, dear lord, don't forget the petunias and dandy lions." He winks, much like maybe an old pioneer of the silver screen might do. Softening, he gestures with his book, as if securing their spot. "I'll hold fort, no worries."
She's hesitant, unsure for a moment, before gathering herself up on two steady feet. "To the right?"
A sure nod, big brown eyes ticking between her gaze, looking up to her standing form, as he stays comfortably still seated. "Unless you want me to come with you?"
"No, no. I'll be... it's fine. Thank you." Trying to keep on the edge of sureness rather than just plopping right back down beside him. "Hold down our space." She grins, sighing as she makes her way.
She purposefully makes sure she doesn't glance back at him, wonders if he's watching her walk away but keeps her nose pointed forward. She, she wants to do this small thing, finding one of the Wasp issues, and with Robert still so close, it comforts her more than maybe she should admit.
Trying for a confident vibe she soon finds herself flipping through tightly rowed comics. Pleased to see them she remembers Jay. Had he found some down a level as well? Should she go back to him? It would be sorta rude to just abandon him just because she--well. She honestly did just want to have a little time with Robert. Maybe ask Robert if his daughter likes comics.
The word daughter still strange on her tongue, the whole separated thing and all still digesting in her brain. It didn't matter though, it honestly doesn't. The idea of him having a mini me bouncing around with just as much snark as he had was enlightening, and for some reason made her heart only grow for him. Something about him having a little one of his own, it made her see him in that new light. Another light. A father.
As weird as it may sound, it reminds her of her relationship with Molly (as she's mentioned). And knowing that he understood that there was this little being that came before all else, it made her heart pound. (Maybe it was also attributed to Brandon never taking more than a first glance at Molly and rolling his eyes).
Or the fact that, sorta like Robert, she too was healing from a person who had inflicted pain.
Anyways.
There seemed to be quite a bit of comic book issues. Equally matched in DC to Marvel and other smaller brands she had yet to branch out in to.
Ah, Wasp. Just what she was looking for. Some Avengers beginning days action.
Pulling the thing carefully from where it's been placed, she immediately flips open a few pages, skimming with a smile.
If this place was supplied with comics, what didn't it have?
Could be an endless list of things to read forever and a day.
She hears the voice before the sound of feet falling. Gentle and coaxing, not warning her but making her aware of his presence as to not startle her. "I see you found what you were looking for."
Its all warmth and spreading heat spreading like zig zags through her cool body. Her blush creeping back in the low light as arms lace around her waist. Slip across her hip bones, resting around her. Safe and tingling.
The butterflies that had earlier made home inside her, exploding with colour as his chest presses to her back. His firm body expanding with each deep breath he inhales and exhales.
The comic slipping from her grip to ghost a touch along the lines of skilled hands, up strong arms.
Things coming into reboot as she remembers he had said something. Trying to keep her voice level and not broken words because of the face pressing between her shoulder and neck (she fails). "What happened to holding our seats?" Sounding almost breathless as Charlottes hands find themselves tightening over his hold, sure yet soft.
His breath hot, flowing on bare skin and a very red ear, brushing his exhale down to her very core and heat bubbling like lava from a mountain into a thudding heart. Lips right by her ear, hot and heavy, voice low and preoccupied. "I got distracted."
Her hands intertwining with his as recently licked lips meet the bare exposed skin of her neck. Letting out a heavy sigh she sinks back into him. Pressing back into a firm muscle, heated and close.
Wet lips sucking at her neck, pulling at the sensitive skin just below her ear. His grip around her softening as his lips trail along to her jaw. Nipping at the corner, along it's edge, and she can't help but to turn around in his embrace, and pulls him gently by the tie to her awaiting lips.
For a halts, just before where she wants him. Less than an inch away, sharing heated air, and a locked gaze. Again as he exhales a warm flush deepening over her exposed skin, warming and twisting at her heart just as quickly as the thumping in her chest.
Another tug at tie and its all soft, hot, and perfect. Moving against hers, breathing him in with an airless breath. The strong smell of his forrest fresh cologne knocking down anything in her that is still guarded. Or so she thought.
Some how she has him leaning back against shelves, hands combing back her hair as he kisses her. Holds her. Slips a grip down her back as her fingers draw lines down his shoulders and up into thick brown locks. Silky and soft slipping between her digits.
Her bottom lip between his, together and moulded. The gentle pull of teeth--But the hint of his sweet tongue slipping along her lips has her head flinching away, breaking the contact.
"I'm sorry--"
She clutches her eyes tightly shut, trying to block out the flashing images of Brandon, of his taste, and slick awful lips pressing against her own. Shaking her head, trying to speak past gritted teeth. "It's not, it's not you." Her hands are fisted in the collar of his--of Roberts shirt. The images aren't subsiding but as she opens her eyes, glassy with pain and memories, she looks straight for Robert.
The concern written like a toddler trying out letters for the first time, all over Roberts face. Immediate with concern and she can see the guilt forming and--fuck Brandon. Fuck him, and she is not going to let him hurt Robert through her.
She goes for another kiss but Robert moves away, hands slipping down her sides. "Hey, it's okay. I shouldn't have pushed."
"You didn't." Anger biting at her tongue and she doesn't want it there, she absolutely does not. Pushing it forcefully back out of her tone, the frustration laying bare and festering like an oozing wound. "It was just..." Releasing a heavy worn out sigh she can't help but rest her forehead against his. Huffing out all the pent up air trapped in burning lungs. Brows knitted tight and jaw unclenching as she lets it seep from her body. Taking in another deep inhale of air, Roberts air, and sighing. Awaiting the organ inside her chest to stop jumping about erratically like dubstep to whirling images she doesn't want to see.
Her hands linking behind Roberts neck as his find the belt loops on her pants.
"You didn't push." She says again, nothing but honesty etching into her voice and pain--longing for the moment her life could be back to the way it was.
Robert doesn't respond at first, simply holding onto her with a comforting thumbs ringing rhythm into her hip bones. Then words do form. "Our own pace. Unique. I trust you and you can trust me. That's what this is about, okay?"
She pushes into him further, "I do trust you. More than anyone." Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, smelling and embracing him as he wraps around her, pressing soft gentle kisses to the top of her head, slow and... Sweet, (that being the replacement word of what she really was thinking).
"I know. It's okay. And by the way, I'm much needing this pace as you do, just so you know."
Another deep, lengthily sigh, nodding her head in response. "Okay." Leaving a small wet kiss to the cut of his jaw. Lips pulling on his minty fresh skin. Could feel the life under her touch, thrumming with energy as she finds his lips again. Pulling at them between her own, the sounds that beg to come up from trapped down in her throat.
It was like someone was pushing her, making her stumble, and shrivel up in embarrassment (this whole trying to move on thing). She is trying to move forward but those bruised knuckles (His) keep yanking her back a step. It makes her frustrated and angry and alone--and pained.
Then there's the soft encouragement of Robert, very much so patient, very much so putting the brakes on for her. His open palms, soft to the touch, warm to the grip, and gentle. Safe. Understanding and wonderful, making her system pump full of something fresh and make her forget about the shards of ice lodged deep in the crevices of her stitched up, bloody and battered, heart. The smooth tone of his voice, and unrelenting curve of his smile, generous, and kind. And theres that sadness that seems to be buried deep inside of him but its appearing less and less often but always just as dark, just as hurting as she knew he felt. Could relate.
Still though, she couldn't do it. She couldn't level up like she had been hoping for, too much in the moment for her all at once.
Pulling back with a hushed whisper. "I'm sorry, I just. It's not you. It's... Him."
The arms around her tighten, only briefly, only protectively (so she's beginning to learn). He shifts, swiping a lick across his lips before speaking. "Natural, remember? That's the non guilted guideline. No pressure ever." She looks up at him, still leaning into his embrace, revelling in the strength and safety that was his arms securely around her. Those candy apple eyes, glistening with honesty, tucking the stubborn loose strands of hair behind her burning ears. "You can step away, as far away as you want, any time. You can count on me to honour you with your choices one hundred and ten percent of the time. Twenty-four-seven."
"I don't want to step away. Not from you. Unless you'd want me to."
The movie star grin spreading humbly as he nods in response. "Well good because truth be told," leaning in to give her a soft kiss to her rosy cheek "I like having you here."
She could bathe in his warmth, his plush softness, as he leans into her, arms an envelope around her waist. Trying to speak with clarity as soft touches of his lips meet her shoulders, proceeding to the columns of her neck. "I want you to know, it's a two way street. If you need space or--I want to be there for you."
Words mumbled against her skin. "You are."
Her hands combing through his soft silky hair. "Whatever you need. I'll always respect that. Always." Then it was her lips traveling on his skin, kissing the space between his collar bones, the lines of his throat. Speaking between kisses. "I feel like... you're not... getting a thing out of this and I'm... sucking it all up."
Loosely his head hangs from side to side, licking already moist lips. "You have no, no, no idea how mistaken you are."
Pulling back with a smirk, finding his round eyes. "That's a lot of no's."
"And each one is true."
Sneakers squeaking on polished floors and a deep, almost relieved laugh coming from the entry way. "Comics finally!"
She barely squeaks as Roberts quick to lift her around the corner into another hall of books as Jay approaches, grinning manically and tiredly (sorry Jay).
Charlotte has her back to the newly acquainted aisle, Robert still holding her, letting her slip silently down his chest to place her feet on the sturdy ground. Her hands firm on his chest with him looking down at her with mischief dancing in his eyes, her friend just out of sight.
The press of a comic book--the one she had dropped--slipping with ease into her hands, briefly snatching away her lingering attention. The old art face up in one hand, the other still preoccupied on Roberts chest. A quick peck of the lips brought back her attention and then he was letting her go, stepping away and she couldn't help but lean forward and press another kiss to those sweet lips, savouring their taste as they finally brake apart.
Robert grins, letting her go, shifting like he didn't want to, but swiftly and silently making his escape away.
Charlotte waits till he's surely gone, watching until he's far out of sight before she simply raises her voice, cleaned from mischief--of heat clouding her head out of a knot, legs criss crossed on the floor as she found herself seated once again, speaking Jays name as innocently as one can with the lingering taste of their professor on her lips. "Jay, what took you so long?"
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Random Question: How do you guys feel about more intimate scenes? Like description levels and stuff?
COMMENT. VOTE. WHAT'S YOUR FAVOURITE MONTH? Next update will be Friday!
Thanks for reading guys.