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snelbz · 4 years

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Lost Time {11}

A/N: Hey, guess what? It’s another smut chapter. Like this is purely smut. Enjoy. As always, co-written by @tacmc.

The drive was quiet, Azriel was looking out the window as she drove, but not quite paying attention. Because when they reached their destination and Elain got out of the car, Az froze and looked around. He got out and jogged up the porch behind her.

As Elain slipped her key in her front door, she breathed, “Would you like to come in for a drink?”

He nodded. “I’d love to.”

She smiled broadly and said, “First, you have to kiss me goodnight though.”

Azriel laughed, quietly, before taking her face into his hands and bringing his lips to hers. He kissed her slowly, deeply. Just when he thought he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from kissing her all night long, she pulled back, breathless, and with a sly, sweet smile, she pushed open the door and flipped on the light.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, tossing her purse and keys onto the coffee table. “I’ll get us some drinks.”

Azriel nodded and watched her disappear before sitting in an armchair. He wanted to look around, definitely wanted to snoop, but he pulled out his phone, instead, and called Cassian.

He picked up on the second ring. “Well, mom said you were safe, but I’m still a little bitter that you’ve waited this long to tell me as much.”

Azriel chuckled, keeping his voice quiet. “Sorry, I got….busy.”

There was a silence. “Busy? Busy with Elain? Busy busy?”

Azriel ran a hand down his face. “Yes.”

“Holy shit,” Cassian breathed, then he started laughing. “Yes? That’s all I get? I don’t even get details-.”

“I was just calling to let you know that I’m safe,” Azriel said, unable to stop himself from grinning. “We just got to her house so-.”

“SHE LET YOU IN HER HOUSE-.”

“Goodbye, Cass.” Azriel hung up and tossed his phone on the coffee table, just as Elain came back with a full bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Who was that?” She asked, opening the bottle and sitting on the arm of the chair.

Azriel ran a hand up her leg, skimming the hem of her dress higher up her thigh. “Cassian. I figured I should let him know I wasn’t lying dead in a ditch somewhere.”

Elain was filling the glasses and was about to say something when her phone rang from her purse. Her eyes slid to him. “That’s Nesta. What exactly did you tell him?”

A blush appeared on Azriel’s cheeks. “He wanted to know why I hadn’t called and I told him we got...busy.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Busy?”

He cleared his throat and nodded, while Elain crossed the room to answer her phone.

He could hear Nesta’s voice through the receiver from where he sat.

“No, Donovan’s at Miryam’s-.”

It was all Elain could get out before Nesta went on another rant. A blush crept high on Elain’s cheeks, to the tips of her ears. “Are you seriously having this conversation with me? Nesta, I have a kid, it’s not my first time-.” She was cut off yet again, and she met Azriel's curious gaze and rolled her eyes. He laughed, softly, as Nesta continued on. “No, Lucien left, he won’t be back.” Her words were soft, but they gave Azriel a selfish satisfaction. “Okay, I’ll let him know. Yeah, I love you, too. Bye.”

She hung up the phone and blew out a slow breath before making her way back to Azriel and sat on his lap, her arms around his neck.

“Let me know what?” He asked, his lips finding her neck.

“Oh, you know Nesta,” she said, quietly. “Threats and whatnot.”

Azriel pulled back, his eyes growing sad as he looked at her. “I swear I won’t hurt you again, Elain. It was the biggest mistake of my life, my biggest regret.”

He had said it a million times, and it never felt like enough.

But the sparkle in her eyes was genuine when she breathed, “I know. I trust you.”

He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her lips back to his. She hadn’t said it audibly, but they both heard the but she hadn’t said.

But my sisters are a different story.

Elain pulled away and finished pouring the wine and they each took a sip - before Azriel spit his back into the glass and Elain made a low whining noise, her face scrunching up in disgust.

“What the hell is that?” Azriel asked, setting his glass down and picked the bottle up, inspecting it.

Elain began to laugh. “It's that eighty dollar bottle of wine we had Rhys buy for our wedding night.”

Azriel shook his head, chuckling. “That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted.”

She smiled. “We were eighteen, we only ever drank Fireball and vodka. How were we supposed to know Sauvignon Blanc was one of the driest wines you can buy?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Do you have anything else?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve got a couple beers tucked away in the back of the fridge. And a boxed wine.”

“Sounds perfect,” he said, carrying the horrible bottle of wine back to the kitchen as she followed with the glasses. He watched as she bent down to retrieve two cans of beer from the back of the fridge, along with a cheap boxed wine.

But when she turned around and caught his gaze, his eyes were soft. He whispered, his voice rough, “Come here.”

She set the contents down on the counter, but then Azriel was lifting her up by her waist and setting her on the counter, too. She grinned as her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs around his waist.

Words ceased as his lips found hers again and the alcohol was forgotten. She knew they’d most likely be a chapped mess in the morning, but Elain couldn’t bring herself to care. Where their kisses earlier in the day had been frantic, hungry, needy, these were lazy and appreciative. She knew that tonight he’d be tortuously slow, teasing her in every way he could. He had four years to make up for.

The thought had her dying for some friction, to feel anything between her legs. She tried to close her legs, to rub her thighs together, but with her he stood, she just squeezed his hips. She was unable to stop the quietest whimper from leaving her and Azriel pulled back to look at her. He breathed, “So needy.”

And she was. Her dress was halfway up her thigh on one side and exposing her green panties on the other. The straps had fallen to the side and her chest was heaving.

“Are you going to make me wait?” she asked, in a sensual whisper.

Azriel sucked in his bottom lip before a slow grin spread across his lips. “I’m going to take my time showing you just how much I love you.”

She kissed him, slowly, as he carried her down the hall. “And how much is that?”

His lips were still brushing along hers as he said, “More than I thought humanly possible.”

Her legs around his waist tightened, a gentle hand tangling into his hair as she kissed him, yet again. In that moment, she believed that their bodies could never be close enough. They were pressed up against each other, but she still longed to be closer. She would always want to be as close to him as possible, and then some.

Azriel’s tongue swept between her lips as he stepped onto the first stair, then the next, his heavy footsteps creaking up the wooden staircase. His grip around Elain remained steady, strong, his lips falling tenderly against hers, sweet, slow, continuous. When he reached the second-floor landing, he had her pressed up against the floral wallpaper, the same wallpaper that had always been there, and he was taking her face into his hands, holding up her body with his hips as he nibbled on her lip.

She let him kiss her for a moment, but there’d been one thing and one thing only on her mind since the front door shut behind them. Unwrapping her legs from around his waist, Elain put one wobbly foot down and then the other. Azriel pulled away, looking down at her with an amused, but confused expression. She only smiled up at him and then leaned up to press a kiss to his waiting lips.

Elain’s kisses began a path down his chin, along his jawline and then to the collared hem of his shirt. Her teeth tugged and teased against it and Azriel pulled it over his head, Elain leaning back to appreciate the expanse of tanned, tattooed skin. Her lips trailed down between his pecs, her nails lightly scratching a path behind them.

Azriel took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out of his parted lips, slowly. When Elain was on her knees before him, brushing those feather-like kisses across his lower abdomen, just above the jeans hanging low on his hips, she braced her hands on his thighs. He could feel her nails through his jeans, and the thought of what was about to come had his breathing shallowed. Those delicate fingers trailed up his thighs, far too close to his hardening length for him not to groan, and began undoing his belt, then the button on his jeans, then the zipper. She looked up at him through long, dark lashes as she slowly tugged them down his thighs. Just when he thought she couldn’t tease him anymore, she gently palmed him through his boxer-briefs.

The wait was agonizing. He breathed her name. “Elain.”

She only looked up at him, yet again, innocently with wide, brown eyes. He saw the wicked delight there, how much she enjoyed drawing this out. She’d never been one for waiting, but it seemed that as she matured, so did her patience.

A hiss slipped between his teeth as she took a finger and ran it from the outlined head, along his length, and then back up again.

“Elain.”

Her name was a warning this time, not to tease him too harshly. Her soft giggle was the last thing he heard before his eyes rolled back into his head and he pressed a hand against the wall in front of him.

She hadn’t removed his underwear, but her tongue followed the same path her finger had moments before. He did his best to control himself, to let her set the pace, but gods, that mouth. He’d never forgotten the amazing things she did with that sinful mouth, but memories never compared to the real thing. Azriel was unable to stop himself from pushing her hair back off her face, gathering all of the curling strands at the back of her head. He wanted to see her face, he always wanted to look in her eyes while she pleasured him.

Those brown eyes locked onto his own and she held his gaze as she pressed soft kisses into the patch of hair above the waistband of his boxer-briefs, before gripping them by the elastic, and discarding them around his ankles.

Her cheek brushed along the side of his cock before she took him into her hand. With those teasing, wild, brown eyes still on his, the tip of her tongue found his balls and trailed up along the underside of his length. His breathing hitched as she took the head into her mouth, softly sucking, her tongue swirling around the tip. With one hand braced flat against the wall, the other wadding up her hair, Azriel’s eyelids fluttered shut as he breathed a deep, raspy curse.

There was nothing Elain loved more than having Azriel’s cock in her mouth. She never felt more powerful than in those moments, because while it seemed she was in the position of subservience, she knew with one word, he’d call down the moon for her. Or he’d at least try.

Closing her eyes, she slowly began to bob her head, taking him deeper and deeper with each pass. There wasn’t another sound in the house, just Azriel’s shallow breathing and occasional moans from her that shot right through him.

After a particularly deep dip, when Az had been powerless to stop his hips from moving, he bucked once into her mouth. Elain’s eyes opened and she gagged around his cock, her lips nearly touching the base where the length jutted out from his body.

With a quiet gasp, Elain pulled back and Azriel watched as a thin string of spit still connected her lips to the swollen head. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words were cut off when she began to pump her hand along his length. She dragged her tongue from base to tip and back again before swirling it around his balls. Without a word of warning, she lightly sucked one into her mouth and slowly stroked him

His entire body tensed, his heavy breaths halted, then his low groans filled the silence of the dark, empty house. He wanted to lay her down, spread her legs and show her he could do just as well to her, wanted to thrust himself into her ruthlessly until she was screaming his name, but he was being selfish and would continue to be selfish until she was done. He had been in a lot of compromising positions with Elain throughout the years he’d known her, but what she was doing now... Azriel was on edge, and she’d only just begun.

He didn’t want to fall over that edge, either, because the sensation that was thrumming throughout his body was ethereal.

She sucked harder, just a little bit, as she stroked him faster, gripped him harder. He knew the little moans coming from her mouth were purely for his benefit, and he loved every little sound she blessed him with.

That is, until he watched, with her eyes closed, mouth still worshiping his balls, as her hand slipped under her dress. The second her finger came into contact with her clit, it was like another woman appeared. Her movements became more frantic, her mouth more urgent as she let her tongue glide over his hard cock.

Elain looked up at him, circling the tip with her tongue, before pulling it between her lips and sucking lightly. Azriel groaned and he held both sides of her face, gently brushing his thumbs along her hollowed out cheeks.

She pulled back and breathed, “What do you want, Az?”

“You,” he grunted as her hand took the place of her mouth. “I want you.”

“How do you want me?” She asked, finally pushing those green, lacy panties to the side and giving him a glimpse of her slick heat. Her finger lightly teased the entrance and her eyes fluttered shut. “Do you want me slow, hard, begging?” She ran her tongue along the underside of his length again, chuckling as it jumped in her hand. “Do you want me to stay on my knees, on the bed, from the back?”

Azriel’s eyes were wide and his cock was about to explode from just her words. She’d gained so much confidence in the past four years. When they’d been together before, she could barely talk about the fact that they had sex, much less go into details. Now, she was asking him what he wanted, laying out a veritable menu.

And he was so in shock that he had to fully collect himself before saying, “I want you in every way. And I plan to have you in every way, slow, hard, begging, all through the night.” Azriel took her chin into his hand and lifted so that she met his wild-eyed gaze. “Come morning, you won’t be able to walk straight.”

Her eyes lit up with humor and something else, something that looked like she was challenging him. Prove it.

“But first,” he continued, her chin still gripped between his scarred fingers, “I’ll lay you down, flat on your back, spread those pretty little legs as wide as they can go, and I’ll devour you, slowly, until I’ve memorized the way you taste.”

Elain sucked in a slow, shaky breath, as her own finger moved in urgent circles against her clit.

He held out a hand to her. “Stand up.”

The tone of his voice told Elain not to challenge him, nor did she want to. She laid the same hand she had been touching herself with in his open palm and climbed to her feet. Her dress fell back into place and save for the blush on her cheeks, no one would have known she’d just been giving him the most phenomenal blowjob of his life. He, however, was naked in her upstairs hallway and Azriel found that very unfair.

Lifting her hand to his mouth, he sucked the two fingers she’d used to play with her clit, that she’d just barely dipped inside herself, into his mouth and licked them clean.

When he let go of her hand and let it fall back to her side, her eyes needy and breathing heavy, he dropped his lips to her ear and said, “Just in case you forgot what I can do. Bedroom.”

Her bottom lip was trapped between her teeth as she nodded and took his hand, leading him to the master bedroom. The room used to belong to her father, but it bore no resemblance to the cave the reclusive man used it as. Now it was decorated in soft pastels, florals, with lots of light and space.

Not that Azriel was paying attention to any of that as Elain led him into the room. Reaching the end of the bed, she loosened the top of her dress, shimmying it down her body until it was pooled at her feet. She hooked her thumbs in her panties and he reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

“No,” he breathed. “Leave them on.” It wasn’t a request. She nodded and he added, nodding to the bed. “Lie down.”

Elain did as she was told, eyes bright. Her back fell against the lavender comforter and for a moment, Azriel did nothing. He stood at the foot of the bed and slowly scanned her body. She laid confidently, her lips parted, hair splayed across the blanket. Her arms were tossed above her head, allowing him full display of her perky, petite breasts. As he watched her, drinking her in, Elain slowly spread her legs, allowing him access to the place she longed for him to touch most. Her thin, green panties were soaked.

In the time it took Elain to blink, the sweet Azriel she’d always loved was gone, and instead a side of Az she’d never seen took his place. And holy gods… She liked this side of him.

He was always careful to make sure he wasn’t too domineering in his everyday life, because at his size, it was next to impossible. But this side of the man she loved, the man who never failed to surprise her… It made her want to do every word he said.

Azriel climbed onto the bed, crawling and kissing his way up her body. He kissed along her thighs, her stomach, and her neck, but he didn’t ever get close to where she needed him. Elain fought off a groan as he chuckled, the husky laugh by her ear, sending goosebumps along her skin.

“Please.”

The word tumbled from her lips and Az froze. He pulled back and looked down at her, whispering, “Say it again.”

She did as she was told, the breathy whisper almost inaudible. “Please, Azriel.”

In a flash, he was between her legs, but he didn’t press his lips to her sex like she’d wanted him to. He ran a soft featherlight touch directly down the center of her soaked panties.

She gasped, and although it was quiet, she swore it echoed throughout the quiet room. He did it again, slower this time, admiring the way her chest heaved, the way it rose and fell, rapidly.

“Please,” she begged, another quiet plea. She whimpered, softly, and Azriel let out a deep, low growl.

“Please what?” he whispered.

“Taste me,” she breathed.

Azriel slowly moved her panties aside before running his thumb gently between her folds. She was so wet that he couldn’t help but bring his thumb to his mouth. Elain watched as he licked her juice off his own skin.

“Your mouth, I need your mouth,” she whispered. “Please.”

Azriel gripped her thighs and pushed her legs down as far as they’d go before he settled himself between her legs and gave her pussy one agonizingly slow stroke with his tongue.

She softly cried out, her hand tangling into his messy hair. Her eyes didn’t leave his as he repeated the motion once, twice, three times, and then flicked his tongue over her swollen clit.

Elain couldn’t have stopped the bucking of her hips if she wanted to, not when she needed his mouth on her. She needed it like she needed air to breathe, to live. But then she felt his arm snake over her lower belly, and he held her down, sucking her clit in between his lips.

Elain’s moan echoed throughout the house and Azriel fisted his cock as he did whatever he could to bring her right to the edge, wanting to give her his full attention, but god damn, she tasted like perfection. And the way she writhed beneath him… Fuck, he loved this woman.

He abandoned his own pleasure and teased a finger at her entrance, gazing up at her through his lashes.

Her lips were parted, her brows furrowed, her eyes nearly shut but watching him. He pushed his finger inside of her as he continued sucking on her clit, then he added another finger, and another. He pumped in and out of her, slowly, as he took her clit between his teeth before gently soothing it with his tongue.

She cursed and Azriel’s bones were set on fire. He loved the way she cursed, loved that it sounded more like a prayer than damnation.

It had Azriel gripping her ass and pressing his mouth against her sex, taking as much of her in as he could. His tongue explored her, desperately. He’d told her he’d devour her, and that he would.

His own personal feast.

Her body began to tense, the tug of her hand in his hair almost painful, her other hand tugging on her own breast. She was pinching and squeezing her nipple as if it were his teeth. Her pulled her clit back between his lips and sucked lightly, tugging just hard enough that he drew another moan from her. With a curl of his fingers, she was there, on the edge, on the precipice of orgasmic bliss. And when he moaned against her sex, the vibration shooting directly to her core, she exploded.

Azriel didn’t care, helped her ride it out, his mouth still sucking her clit as her body tensed around him. Her legs wrapped around his neck, his shoulders, shaking uncontrollably, as Azriel’s chin, his lips, became coated in her juices. Her screams turned into soft moans, then she fell silent as she held her breath. And when her body became slack, and she tried to catch her breath, Azriel removed his mouth from her sex and met her gaze. He licked his lips, slowly.

Elain couldn’t remember how to move, how to speak, how to breathe. The only thing she knew was Azriel’s name and that was enough to tether her to the ground to come down from her orgasm high.

His eyes stayed on her as he kissed and sucked and licked his way up her body. He was not even close to being done pleasuring her, wanting to hear his name echo through every room in the house.

As he reached her breasts, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to each of her nipples. After he’d kissed the second one, he flicked his tongue over the sensitive nub. Elain gasped, her chest heaving, and he closed his mouth over her breast, sucking the nipple between his teeth. He kneaded the other, his fingers massaging and tugging and soothing.

After giving equal treatment to her other breast, he continued his path upward until he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Elain leaned up and nipped at his bottom lip, tugging lightly and he groaned and let some of his weight fall on her. A soft gasp fell from her lips and her eyes gazed up at him as the head of his cock pressed against her entrance.

Azriel brushed back her hair, his breathing shallow as his hands skimmed down her body before he pushed himself up on his knees. Elain’s eyes followed him as he did so. Neither of them said a word before Azriel gripped her hips and flipped her over before grabbing her ass and pulling her back into him. His cock was hard, brushing between her folds as Azriel hovered over her back. He took her breasts into his hands as he whispered into her ear, “What now?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Fuck me.”

Before she could take a breath, he was filling her, so agonizingly slow, that she tried to force herself back. He held her hips tightly, not giving her any room to wiggle around at all. When he was completely inside of her, seated to the hilt, Elain’s legs were shaking and she thought she might split open from just how full she felt. One of his long fingers found her clit and Elain whimpered as he pressed against the sensitive nub. Azriel leaned over her back one more time and breathed into her ear, “Fuck me, what?”

A little whine tumbled from her lips before she said, “Fuck me, daddy.”

Azriel’s body stilled. She’d breathed the words so softly that he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. He’d expected a please, but daddy…

A low, primal noise came out of him before he could stop himself, as that single request fueled his every move. He pulled himself out of her, nearly all the way, before thrusting himself back into her, relentlessly. She cried out as he found a quick, hard pace. He didn’t hold back, couldn’t hold back. She made him wild, made him forget who he was, made him forget the world around him. All he knew in that moment was that Elain was there, raw, real, confident, wanting him.

One of her hands was braced against the headboard, pressing herself back, trying to take as much of him as she physically could. The sounds of her moans spurred him on and when she buried her face in the pillow, he groaned. Her ass lifted and the view was fucking phenomenal. Without warning, he removed one of his hands from her hip and brought it back down with a crack!

He didn’t think it was possible, but Elain tightened around him further when she cried out as his hand made contact. The whimpering moans had his hand gently rubbing over the curve of her ass, soothing the sting. “Did you like that, baby?” He grunted, not letting up on the relentless pace he’d set. She nodded, soft moans falling from her lips, face still buried in the pillow. He caressed the same spot again, squeezing softly and breathed, “Do you want another?”

She turned her head to the side and nodded frantically, whispering, “Yes, yes, yes…”

He paused his hips, stopping with just the tip still inside of her. She whined in protest and he said “Yes, what?”

Glancing down, he could see her wetness running down the back of her thighs. He would never have expected that this is what his sweet Elain would want. But he had also never seen her so wet, so completely out of her mind with lust. He loved it and would do anything she asked to keep her like that.

He repeated himself when she hadn’t answered, gripping her ass with both hands. “Yes, what, baby?”

Elain looked back at him over her shoulder, locking his eyes onto hers, and said, “Yes, please, daddy.”

Azriel nearly came at the sight of her on all fours, looking into his eyes, saying such things. His hand made contact with her ass, her pale skin starting to turn pink, his cock pounding into her over and over and over again.

He closed his eyes, gripping the headboard in front of them, fully aware that he couldn’t hang on much longer. His groans grew louder as her sounds of pleasure filled the bedroom.

Her voice grew higher and higher and he could tell she was only a few more thrusts from release of her own. He picked up his pace, going as deep as he could, growling, “Are you close, my love?” She nodded as he continued his relentless assault. “Do you want to cum? Say it, baby.”

She was facedown in the pillow again by that point, and the muffled moan that left her as his hand came down against her ass one last time had the timing of his hips becoming sloppy erratic.

“Can I cum, please? I need to cum.” The words were filthy coming from pretty, pink lips, and Azriel wrapped an arm around her waist as he fucked her with everything he had left.

“The cum for me, baby,” he whispered, pressing kisses into the back of her neck, damp with sweat.

She did just that. He could feel her release around him, and the sensation had his face falling into her back, against her damp skin. Her body was shuddering, everything shaking, hardly able to keep herself upright. His lips found the back of her neck, his teeth nipping at the tender skin. She moaned his name, and his grip on her tightened.

Azriel came soon after, and he rode it out slowly, his heart nearly about to beat out of his chest. He used to be insecure about the sounds that would come from him when pleasured, but with her he didn’t care. He let them tumble from his lips, freely, openly.

The room fell into silence, all that could be heard was their heavy breaths as they struggled to steady their breathing.

Azriel pulled out, taking note of the mix of their climaxes dripping out of her, one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen, and fell onto the bed beside her. When she kept her head buried in the pillow, he gently brushed the hair back from her forehead. Elain glanced up at him, those warm brown eyes orgasm drunk and satisfied. He didn’t want to disturb the stillness, but quietly asked, “You okay?”

She nodded. Her eyes drifted closed. “More than okay.”

He chuckled and tugged on one of the arms she had tucked under the pillows. She crawled over to him, nestling into his neck and he gently skimmed his fingers up and down her back, the light touch raising goosebumps along her skin.

“Mmm,” was all she said as she pressed a kiss to his throat.

He craned his neck trying to look down at her. “Good mmm or bad mmm?”

“Good,” she purred, a hand dragging down his chest and abdomen and she gripped his already softening cock. He grunted and she said, “Very, very good.”

“Good,” he mumbled, kissing her lips and rolling over so he was on top of her. His arms framed her face, caging her in so all she saw was his own. “So,” he said carefully, pressing a kiss to her nose. “Daddy, huh?”

She laughed breathily as she narrowed her eyes. “Thought I’d try it out.”

“And?” he asked, quietly, carefully brushing the stray wisps of hair off of her face.

“If that’s the reaction I get, I’d say it’s a keeper,” she whispered, her grin widening.

Azriel laughed, his smile wide as he kissed her lips, softly, slowly. “I love you, so much.”

Her fingertips began rubbing his lower back in small, gentle circles. “I love you, too.”

That wasn’t that last time Azriel made love to Elain Archeron that night, nor was it the last orgasm he gave her by far. But when they were finally spent, both sweaty and exhausted, but unwilling to let the other move even an inch, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, ready to face whatever tomorrow would bring to them.

#elriel lost time #lost time #shara collab #snacmc #tacmc snelbz collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #elriel #acofas #acosf

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 3 years

Text

All Norman Bates

PART FORTY-TWO OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: mentions of estranged parents, therapy, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 2.8K

Summary: Jess and Ella experience a bump in the road on the way to California.

A/N: Just so everyone is aware, there are only two chapters left after this, including the epilogue :)

Sighing, Jess glanced over at Ella, who sat in the passenger seat with a crinkled brow and the cap of a red pen between her teeth. They were halfway to California, and Jess didn’t think he’d seen her without that same pensive look on her face for the entirety of the trip thus far. But, he couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed at her insistence on working over the spring break. Her cheeks were lively with rosy color, and her eyes looked clearer.

They weren’t all good days. Sometimes, she would come home from work or school and fall asleep on the couch almost immediately, lethargic and unable to articulate any of the thoughts which were jumbled in a confusing, depressed mess within her head. Then, when she awoke, she would often find herself needing to cry. Whether she knew what her feelings were about or not, she would let herself cry, like her new therapist was urging her to. Jess would rub circles on her back and make green tea and listen. And eventually, she would feel better. They were working it out together, just like he promised. Most of the time, there was a gnawing guilt sitting in her stomach. He shouldn’t have to take care of her, she would think. She was holding him back. She was weighing him down. Each time she brought it up though, he would patiently remind her of how much she had helped him, how this thing of theirs was a two-way street, and that he didn’t mind.

She would smile, in spite of herself. Slowly, it was getting easier, and she was regaining her passion for things. She was drawing again, even painting, finally making use of the easel Jess had gotten her for Christmas. Jess often made jokes about how big of a role their therapists played in their lives, but they only made Ella laugh, instead of making her angry. It was true, but she was becoming less ashamed of it by the day. It would probably always feel a bit like her and Jess against the world, but their world could be bigger. Help didn’t need to be an evil. She didn’t need to make survival her ultimate goal. Instead, she was working on happiness. And, of course, the antidepressants were playing a part no one could understate.

“You’re gonna make yourself carsick,” Jess warned begrudgingly, turning down the Killers song which played on the radio.

Ella rolled her eyes but didn’t look up from the essay. “You’re the one who gets carsick, Jess. I’ll be fine.”

Again, he gave a slight sigh. Sometimes, the silence could get to even him. When she was working, it was like she was on a different planet. “Whatever, Daria. Just call me the invisible man.”

“You are so clingy,” she teased off-handedly, chuckling.

He scoffed, though a blush rose hotly up his neck and to the tips of his ears. “Am not.”

“Sure, tough guy,” she quipped, then finally looked up from the midterm papers she was grading.

The current one was a pretty decent account of how Van Gogh made the most of his madness through his art. She was pretty engrossed in it, and it was almost free of her annotations. Her harsh grading style had become almost notorious with the T.A. circle at the University. But, sometimes, people really did turn in perfect work. Besides, she knew it was better to bite the bullet and give the advice. It was what the students were there for, after all. And subtlety had never been her strong suit.

For what it was worth, she was working on the drive in an attempt to have less to do once they actually reached California. The plans were to spend the week on the beach, reading and drawing, and popping into Jess’s father’s house every now and again. The visit was partially for vacation, partially an obligatory gesture. Jess hadn’t visited in so long, the guilt was starting to get to him. His father was a douchebag, but he had still welcomed Jess into his home when he didn’t have to. The gesture certainly counted for something.

Watching the darkness of the road ahead, Jess tried to keep his anxiety at bay. He had to remind himself that Ella was with him, they were older, and even more stable than they had been the last time they visited. He didn’t need to feel nervous about the trip, but the memories of his lonely months in Venice were itching at the back of his mind. Sometimes, he would give in and scratch, even if it only made things worse. He bit at his bottom lip, eyes occasionally wandering to the sky. There were stars, lots out in the heartland of America with no light pollution. And there were hardly any other cars, as the night went from evening to late. There were no concrete plans about where to stay the night, just the next decent motel they happened upon. Each time Ella suggested stopping, Jess insisted he was fine to keep driving. He wanted to get as much done as he could manage. Truthfully, he was not looking forward to the silence of the nighttime, when Ella went to sleep and he had to be alone with thoughts of his father turning over and over in his head.

“Do you hear that?” she asked after a moment, brows furrowing. With her attention away from her work, she had begun to pick up on a faint clicking sound.

“Hear what?” Jess said, broken from his anxious reverie.

“Listen,” she said, then gave a hesitant pause. Then added: “It’s getting louder.”

Jess did as she told him, turning the quiet music on the radio all the way down. Sure enough, beneath the rushing of the tires and the occasional screech they had come to tune out after years of riding in the death trap, there was a clicking. And it was getting louder, faster and faster. Then, Jess began to feel a drag in his speed and a resistance in his brakes.

. . .

Too tired even to work, Ella laid with her hands behind her head and stared up at the ceiling. They were somewhere in Kansas, with shitty cell reception and even shittier motels. No auto repair shop would be open until the morning, the man with the tow truck had said, but he suspected it was the engine, based on the sound they had described to him. Luckily, the man had been kind enough to drive them to the nearest 24-hour lodging. The Ambassador would sit solitary in the tow yard until the morning, when they came to bring it to whatever repair shop had the lowest prices. In all honesty, Ella was just glad they hadn’t been forced to spend the night on the side of the highway. It had taken them almost a half an hour before finally getting Ella’s cell in the right position to handle a call to information, to get the name of a towing company. The whole ordeal had been nerve-wracking, but she was feeling marginally better behind the safety of their closed motel room door. At the front desk there sat a disinterested woman with thick glasses which magnified her light eyes and a magazine open on the desk in front of her. She had told them a lost key was a $50 fee before sending them on their way with little more than a glance.

It wasn’t a shock. Jess’s car had been living on borrowed time for quite a while, anyway. Rusty and creaky and dying. Ella almost felt vindicated. Finally, her predictions had come true. She had expressed doubt when Jess had said he would be the one driving, to give her time to work and relax. He’d been encouraging her to relax more often recently, and she appreciated it. But riding passenger in the Ambassador was anything but relaxing. Ella still couldn’t believe how flabbergasted Jess had looked when he had to pull over on the side of the road, unable to drive safely with the way the gas pedal wasn’t cooperating. Ella felt a bit of foolish nostalgia at the thought of the vehicle. Another site of their youth bites the dust.

“I don’t know,” Jess sighed into his phone, running a hand down his tired face.

He’d been talking to Sasha for the last twenty minutes. It was past ten, but not the middle of the night. Jimmy, however, wasn’t available to talk apparently. Sasha had been suggesting alternative plans for them to get to California, though both Jess and Ella knew there was no way they were getting down there anytime soon if the car was as broken as they suspected. Even if it wasn’t completely dead (which it was), they’d have to wait for parts to come in. Who knew how long that would take for such an old make and model.

Eventually, Jess pushed Sasha off the phone with some muttered excuses and forced goodbyes. His head was swimming with fatigue, and he didn’t think he could deal with another second of his stepmother. Not considering how chatty and cheery she was. Putting his cell phone on the rickety nightstand next to him, he flopped down onto his back. The comforter had a faded floral pattern, but was surprisingly soft. He blew out a long breath and shut his eyes for a moment.

“So she took it well?” Ella asked flatly. She had heard Sasha’s good-natured badgering as she lay silently next to Jess.

“Oh yeah,” Jess replied. “Very understanding.”

Ella snorted a laugh and sat up again, looking down at him. She raked her fingers through his hair affectionately. He sighed again, eyes still closed. Biting at the inside of her cheek, Ella fought back a small smirk at the sight of him in the low glow of the singular bedside lamp. The night certainly hadn’t gone according to plan, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel too upset about not making it to California. She still wasn’t the biggest fan of Jimmy or the Pacific Ocean. She kept stroking his hair, eyeing his long lashes and exhausted pallor. She could tell how sleepy he was, even if he wouldn’t exactly admit the effects of driving so long.

She looked around the small room, big enough only for a queen bed, a small TV, some nightstands, and a bathroom off to the side. The rosebud wallpaper was yellowed with age and there were a few precarious stains on the beige carpet. But the air had a homey smell of dust and she decided it wasn’t the worst place they could have ended up. Fortunately, they didn’t need to find dinner, having already grabbed some takeout about an hour before the end of the Ambassador’s long, strange life.

“At least we won’t have to reconnect with that weird guy who works on the boardwalk,” Ella said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“The guy who sells the hemp hats?” Jess asked, then cracked his eyes open again. “You think he still works there?”

“I bet he’ll still be standing out there long after you and I are dead,” Ella replied.

Jess laughed. “You’re probably right.”

“Maybe I should grade more,” she said distractedly, speaking mostly to herself as her idle hands made uneasiness creep up in her stomach.

Rolling his eyes, Jess grabbed her gently around the waist and pulled her down onto the bed, guiding her head to his chest. “This is an addiction, Stevens. I’m cutting you off.”

“Yeah, well, the first step to healing is acceptance,” she quipped, placing a kiss on his t-shirt and settling in against him. For once, she decided to oblige him and sleep instead of stay up into the early hours of the morning with her red pen. Her therapist had also suggested doing work in moderation.

Jess chuckled breathily. “It’s true.” Then, after a moment: “I think I’m honestly more upset about the car than not getting to go visit daddy dearest.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured.”

“Oh, am I that transparent?” he deadpanned.

“Like a glass house, Mariano,” she teased. “I guess it is the end of an era.”

He nodded. “Yeah. No more weird cigarette burns on the ceiling.”

She laughed. One of the only nights in high school she had ever gotten stoned, Jess had picked her up from her house by surprise, throwing pebbles at her window. He found her eyes red-rimmed and glassy, her cheeks flushed, and her mind spacey. All she’d wanted to do was drive around and smoke cigarettes and listen to Joy Division. At the time, she hadn’t told him about the blowout fight with her father and Fiona. Not until the next morning over breakfast in the diner. When she’d accidentally burned the ceiling of the car with her cigarette, leaving a dark circle, she’d started tearing up. In response, Jess lit a cigarette of his own and pressed it to the ceiling without hesitation, unphased.

Smiling at the memory, she threw an arm over his waist. “And no more barrette stuck in the window crank that won’t come out no matter how fucking hard I try.”

Jess snorted a laugh. After the Arctic Monkeys concert they’d attended the previous summer, they’d had sex in the backseat. One of her barrettes had somehow ended up eternally wedged in the window crank. The next day, she’d taken a pair of pliers to it fruitlessly. Jess had teased her, the woman who prided herself on being able to fix anything, mercilessly, ever since.

“And about a million other ‘no mores.’ Who knows what’ll happen in our next car,” he said.

“Only time will tell,” she muttered through a yawn. “I love you, James Dean.”

“Love you back,” he replied.

A gentle click sounded in the cozy quiet as Jess shut off the lamp. Getting comfortable again, he ran a hand up and down over her back and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Then, he bit at his bottom lip, and his mind flashed to the small red box in this duffel. With the thin gold ring, a tiny amethyst in the middle. He’d bought it months ago, on a random trip to some antique shop with Chris, and he had a few ideas in mind. He hadn’t nailed down a real proposal plan yet, but took it with to California just in case. It had been wishful thinking, of course, since California was neither of their favorite places. And they weren’t going to make it there anyway. Still, it was there. It was happening. He just didn’t know when. It made his insides feel fluttery and excited and almost sick with nerves. But, for now, he decided getting the fuck out of Kansas would be the first step.

Dozing, Ella let her mind wander again to their teenage years. She felt her heart ache with sentimentality, and then brushed it off. Not because she wanted to ignore the feeling, but because all of a sudden she didn’t feel it. She didn’t need to miss Jess when he was right next to her. She didn’t need to worry about the past. Let yourself have a middle. Lorelai’s words reappeared in her mind, soft and comforting.

“Jess?” she asked, voice beginning to grow rough with sleep.

“Hmmm?” he hummed, and she felt the word vibrating in her ear against his chest.

“Do you think that lady at the front desk is gonna go all Normal Bates on us?” she asked.

He sighed, but then it turned into a laugh. “No, Daria, I don’t think so.”

“I bet that’s what Jant Leigh thought too,” she replied, all too serious.

Jess kept his smirk. “Just call me Marion Crane, then.”

She giggled, then was quiet for another moment. Jess slipped his hand beneath her t-shirt and began rubbing small circles on her skin. Usually, she fell asleep within a couple minutes of laying down. Apparently, something was eating at her.

“I think I’m gonna take that job at the University for next year,” she spoke again suddenly.

“Really?” he asked, smirk turning to a small, genuine smile.

“Yeah,” she said, almost shyly. “I’ll have time for actually making some damn art, but I’ll still have a steady income, good benefits...ugh do I sound like a middle-aged tragedy?”

“No,” he said, reassurance in his tone. “I think it’s gonna be great, Eleanor. Seriously.”

“I just...I think I’ll be happy doing it.”

“I do too,” he said, kissing her hair once more. “Congratulations, Stevens.”

“Thanks,” she said with a nervous chuckle, blushing a bit. “And I’ll have that whole sexy professor thing going for me, which is a plus.”

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emma-poole · 5 years

Text

Girl

In fifth grade, I imagined blowjobs similar to the way one eats corn on the cob- a mouth and two hands, head moving deliberately side to side, over and over again. I had no idea what a blowjob really meant, except that the mention of it to my girlfriends on the playground elicited widened eyes, nervous laughter, and the sweet satisfaction of having gained insight into a scandalous topic, all of which my ten-year old self delighted in providing.

I do not know why I was so concerned with felatio while still wearing training bras and old navy tech vests, yet even as a small child, sex fascinated me. A deep curiosity of the human form lived within me, and still does. Bodies, in particular naked ones, could stop me in my tracks; a mini statue, mouth-breathing. My mother’s breasts, the way my older girl cousins began filling out their clothing, the tightening of a calf muscle while kicking a soccer ball. Once noticed, I could not unsee all the human art around me. I wanted to talk about it, perhaps to see if others felt the same way. Which is why many of my most vivid memories take place on the playground of Hillside elementary, perched on a tall red jungle gym we referred to as the rocket, sharing information.

My mom had moved my older sister, three dogs, and me to Niskayuna that Fall, a small suburban town in upstate, New York, sprawling with manicured lawns, golf courses, and school spirit pasted on car bumper stickers. We didn’t have a lot of money, but the school district was good and my mother did everything in her power to make our opportunities limitless, often working three jobs while somehow managing to get lunches packed and a homemade dinner on the table every night. Grades were important, as was making the bed each morning and being kind, especially to the underdogs.

We lived in the attic apartment of my grandmother’s house for the first few months upon returning so my mother could get settled. This meant my sister and I could go lay in the waterbed- a queen sized fixture that took up most of the back bedroom of the house- at any time. I will always associate waterbeds with my Nana, as well as an entire home that still looked like it belonged in the 1970s. She never got around to changing the mustard-colored floral wallpaper in the kitchen, or the pea-green almost shag rug in the living room. She had an entire picture-frame wall dedicated to the many awkward stages of her family. Her home was her last prized possession, a mausoleum of sorts, to years passed and the people who lived in her memories. It was an altar to her beloveds.

As is usually the case with the new girl in town, I was a novelty. Tanned from the Florida sun, I stood up in front of my class, instructed by the teacher, and announced shyly, I am Emma Poole from Sarasota, Florida. I moved here with my mom and sister a few weeks ago. I wondered if the transition to New York would be as seamless as it was from Massachusetts to Florida, where I had joined a gymnastics team and befriended a girl named Shelby, whose backyard felt more like a mini amusement park, with twinkle lights and a giant heated pool, hot tub, waterslide and balcony. We used to take turns jumping off the waterfall balcony into the pool, our skinny legs not yet marked by the judgmental veil of teenage girlhood. Things had shifted a bit this time around; I was older. More aware of myself and the curious gazes of my classmates. I was aware of my body, albeit flat-chested and two years away from developing, and the way it reacted to the boy whose eyes squinted when he smiled, an unsettling but surprisingly pleasurable flush that crept from my chest to my neck only to land like blush applied in a hurry on the apple of each of my cheeks. Like a pen oozing ink onto paper. Messy, beautiful.

Two months into the school year, I had a solid group of three girlfriends who showed me the ropes around town and more importantly, around the school hallways and cafeteria. Initially, they had been jealous of my fresh new girl-ness, making jokes that they’d “adopted” me as a ploy to gain traction together. We wore pigtails and plaid button up shirts, gossiped over which boy was approaching who during recess, traded lunchables and ten-year old advice. We were as naive as we were wise. This was before the age of cell phones and social media. No instagram filters or facebook updates or internet body shaming. We still had to call each other’s houses and ask our friend’s parents to please put Kristen on the phone, and later, sneak into basements to giggle together over softcore paperview porn. One of the highlights of my fifth grade life was when Adam Pardi’s older brother, Nick, ( a highschooler!) called my nana’s house asking if I would prefer to go out with Adam or Dan, two boys I’d developed crushes on within the first few weeks of school. Why choose just one?

I chose Dan. My answer came in the form of a crumpled up note, minimal but straightforward, that said Dan. We- my friends and I- agreed that the boys could open the note the next day after school only once they were at least halfway down the road and we could watch their reaction. Adam lived around the corner from me in a section of town called Old Niskayuna. We watched the cluster of boys walk away and voraciously open the note. I hoped Dan was happy with my choice.

By the time I reached seventh grade, I had switched to an aggressively padded black bra and pencil thin eyebrows. I had acne, braces, and the early S curve of hips. My first makeout took place in the back of the Grand Union parking lot, along with six other girls who all kissed the same boy, and some more thereafter. Although I would not have sex until my senior year of highschool, or give a blowjob until sophomore year, people, mostly girls, associated me with the “fast” crowd. Somehow, even in my most awkward phase- which is not to be self-deprecating- I shaved my sideburns and baby hair- I still possessed confidence. I had come to know the male gaze well. I wanted it and fed off of it, while at the same time knowing when to stand up for myself and bark back if necessary. I had the uncanny ability to make fun of the boy I liked most, playing hard to get through feigned apathy and an I’m acting like I don’t give a shit even though I analyze every interaction we have attitude. Just as fifth-grade me possessed a preemptive all-knowingness about oral sex (but how?), thirteen-year old me was beginning to feel the many contradictions of living female in a male-dominated world.

I grew out of my stuttering habit by eighth grade, a speech impediment I still do not fully understand the origins of. I choked on words. S’s were hard, as were Ts and Ds. I practiced my student council speeches at home in my room, increasingly frustrated when a word lodged in my throat, stuck like gum in a windpipe swallowed unexpectedly. My brain worked faster than my mouth, which also grew in middle school. I wore a palette expander that caused a cute gap between my two front teeth, in order to widen my jaw. I did not think the gap was cute at the time, but warned all my friends that it would happen so as to be one step ahead of my own risked integrity. Like when you have a pimple you call attention to before anyone else can. Or tell all your friends you are extremely aware that your new boyfriend is substantially shorter than you would like, even though it’s clear they care far less about it than you do.

The first time a boy went down on me, he removed his glasses, set them aside on the nightstand, and kept his head between my legs for precisely thirty minutes. What is now a dream scenario felt confusing at fifteen- bless his poor tongue for keeping me company all that time, but lack of experience on both of our parts resulted in a mostly numb vagina and my brain spinning on how he wasn’t completely exhausted from having his head at that angle for so long. I loved his commitment, admired his determination. What a blissful and strange site to look down my belly and see his whole face perched on my most intimate parts! The power. The thrill. I still love that sight.

It would take many more years and partners to learn to verbalize what I wanted and how I wanted it. Some would get it the first time. Others, too stuck in their own mind or ego, are probably still walking around giving bad head.

I’m pretty sure I faked an orgasm in order to save both of us. He lifted his mouth, wet and swollen, smiling at his achievement. Putting his glasses back on, he slung his arm around me and we proceeded downstairs, back to the rest of our friends, most of whom were doing the same act minutes before. On facebook the other day, his face popped up. He is a lovely individual, and always has been. Looking at him now, my 29-year old heart felt a ping of compassion for the boy who gave me one of my firsts. For the small but calculated act of removing his eye glasses in order to commit to giving me pleasure.

I am not sure why I sat down to write about adulthood and instead had a reunion with ten-year old me. I suppose I feel protective of her, the little human who has always felt half-woman, half-girl, who watched her older sister develop breasts and in reaction, stuffed balled up tissue into her one piece bathing suit so she could have them too. Now, twenty years later, I marvel at my small but round boobs, thank them for having been there all this time. They are my hand pillows, a resting place for Robin’s head, and a reliable indicator to my arousal state when the right pair of lips transforms them from their cozy resting position into a suddenly alert alarm system, awake and ready.

I think of all the places this body has been. The other bodies she has allowed in, some beautiful, some far undeserving of her holiness. The way that bodies are both attached to and separate of the individual wearing them. How I clutch the soft skin that clings to my hips and both love and loathe it, our relationship a dialogue I am still learning. At times, I have fallen in love with the body, or its parts, more than the person it belonged to. His hands. The way they handled me. How our bodies always coexisted better than our minds. Or recently, someone I dated for four days, who turned out to be more arrogant than I’d thought, didn’t believe in seasoning his food, and ate meals consisting of a single sweet potato and lonely bell pepper, but whose mouth I could have lived inside- he had a tongue that made mine tingle, lips soft yet steadfast, deliberate in their intention. I fall asleep at night not missing him but his lips, both thankful to have had them and nostalgic for their suck.

I got my period for the first time while sitting down to pee in my nana’s bathroom. I was twelve, and I’d been waiting for it. So when I pulled down my pants to see a shiny red slick in my underwear, I sat for a moment, somewhat stunned. I left the bathroom that day feeling altered. My tiny girl body had made something tangible, something I’d heard about, something so…precisely...woman.

I walked into the kitchen with a secret. Mom, I muttered, newly shy...I got my period. She gasped. Congratulations, sweetie! This is wonderful.

I’m still somewhat amused at the blood in my underwear each month, how every time it arrives like an old friend, surprise visiting me when I least expect it. It’s no longer new, or a novelty. Most months it is ill-timed, causing me to rummage through the apartment with my pants around my ankles, searching every cabinet for a lone, hero tampon. And yet I’ve been bleeding for fifteen years and still feel gratitude at what my body can create. I think that’s why I am attracted to partners who possess an element of awe at the female body, as though I am something to be discovered, and then studied, and then practiced, over and over again.

At thirteen, I wanted big boobs. At twenty-five, purpose. Now, a t twenty-nine, I seek deeper understanding. Of the girl I once was, the woman I am today, and the she I continue to evolve into. I think, maybe, I am learning to become the love of my own damn life. She would be so proud, my ten-year old self, to know of all the wild and wonderful stories she’d take part in, both thrilling and at times, deeply painful. You were so brave, I’d tell her. And for the record, blowjobs are nothing like eating corn on the cob.

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