Gwen arrived home to the wagging tail of her canine companion along with his yippy happy barks as he danced around at her feet. “Heya, baby.” She smiled at the sheltie as she removed her coat and draped it onto the coat rack that stood so stolidly beside the door. She noted Isaiah’s jacket was also hanging up which meant the man was home from work on time. With the holidays coming up it seemed his business was getting busier, which wasn’t at all unexpected. The floral shops he worked at was going to soon be swamped too. At most they’d seen each other in passing or just before bed.
It seemed it was going to be a nice night in together. Maybe she could convince him to watch some horror movies since Halloween wasn’t terribly far away.
Kneeling down, she gave Reilly a few good scratches behind his ears and a kiss on the nose before making her way to the kitchen. Wasting no time, she grabbed her kettle, filled it with some milk, and placed it on the stove. She had been craving a mug of hot chocolate, and tonight would be ideal for it. She made sure to put enough in for two mugs in case Isaiah was interested in divulging in the sweet concoction.
“Isaiah?” She called, assuming he was in the bedroom or bathroom. “Do you want some hot chocolate?” She opened up the cupboard to retrieve mugs and hesitated after grabbing one for herself. She’d get them prepped up for the drinks before going to change into much more comfortable clothes that didn’t have the strong aroma of flowers all over them. After a day smelling flowers, she was quite ready to rid herself of the scent. “I’ve put a kettle on with some milk.”
"No thanks," Isaiah called from the deck. Since the washer episode, the apartment's maintenance caught up with all of its minor faults in record time. It felt Isaiah more relaxed, less tense, and significantly more patient. As he sat on the chaise, he smoked his way through one of his favorite tobacco brands (bless the customer who volunteered to roll him a few), and enjoyed the cooler autumn weather from the outdoors. Boots were still on, his long sleeved dress shirt still donned, and the collar still popped for protection of certain interests.
He looked toward the back yard where they had a perfect view into a neighbor's living room, and watched for the usual action that took place. They were exhibitionists, he knew - every other couple on the block knew when to draw the shades, including him and Gwen (to Isaiah's constant protest) - so their occasional forays into couch-based sexytime oft drew his attention. They knew he watched, to, which meant the act was ever more pleasurable for all. Unfortunately, the pair must've been out on errands, for no one wandered into the view of the great bay windows. A shame, he thought, as he brushed the cigarette ash off the chaise cover.
Isaiah stubbed out his cigarette on the railing before he returned inside. The cold bit more than usual lately, and he found it undesirable to stand around outside and have more than one cigarette at the time. For this reason, he missed his old apartment - never before did he need anyone's OK to sit in the bathroom and blow smoke out the window occasionally. More often than not he felt like his teen years now, except he lacked the rush of screwing his boyfriend beyond the watchful eye of the parents.
It's all temporary, he tried to remind himself.
"It's getting cold," he shared in greeting while he unzipped his boots. "I hope it doesn't snow on Halloween. They're opening trick-or-treating to the business district this year and there won't be much in the way of consumer traffic if it's freeze-your-balls-off cold outside."
Ah, the back porch. He must be smoking. It was one habit she really wished he would kick, but seemed to be around to stay. Maybe one day he’d get over it, that or the cold winters will win out.
”Alright!” She called as she closed the cabinet door, placing her mug over by the stove while she waited for the milk to warm up. Sure, what she was going to make was just instant stuff, but hey, it worked for her. She wasn’t a snob when it came to such things. Plus, this was how her father had always made it for them, the only thing she liked to add was lots of marshmallows but she hadn’t had the chance to pick any up at the store. So, plain hot chocolate was what was on the docket for the evening.
A little rush of cold seeped into the kitchen when Isaiah came back in. She turned to him, leaning against the counter. “That would be terrible. Nothing like kids trick-or-treating with big puffy jackets to ruin their costumes.” Pushing away from the counter she walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I am sure the weather will turn around. I don’t think I saw snow anywhere on the forecast. But you know how the weathermen can be.” She smiled as she leaned her hips into him so that her upper body could lean back to look at him. “I am more concerned on how you’ve been. I swear we’ve both been too busy.
She stood on tiptoes to reach up and give Isaiah a kiss, nipping his lip in the process. Hm. Maybe the movie could wait until later…
Isaiah placed his hands on his hips, which meant they landed atop Gwen's arms. "I don't care about the kids," he insisted as he looked down on her with a lidded gaze, "I care about the business their parents will give me. It's practically a science - hand out candy at the back so the adults have to wander the store, they find something worth buying, and you load the kid up with candy so there's pressure to settle the barter and leave with the new item. It's a great way to clean out my inventory."
When she reached for him, the mischief in Isaiah urged him to lean back and force her to work for it. He did, eventually, give into that urge - if only to protect from close inspection. "I've been fine. It's same s**t different day with the slow wind-up to Christmas. You know how it is." Stress, more stress, product shortages, deals falling through, costs hiking up for shitty product, people pinching every last penny they owned… And none of that addressed the state of his staff, or the extracurricular activity of fighting evil by moonlight.
"You don't want to kiss me, babe. I just smoked." Isaiah peeled her arms from around his (unfortunately more solid) waist.
"What about you? How's life a la Gwen?" He spoke as he walked, and he walked to the docking station that held his MP3 player. Luckily the clever things had built-in speakers; the kitchen felt dreadfully quiet between the two of them.
Normally, Gwen’s advances towards Isaiah were welcomed and responded to with a mischieveious glint in his eye. In fact, she couldn’t remember a time when it hadn’t led to the two of them exploring each other in one way or another. For Isaiah to pull away from her, leaving her standing alone as he walked away, put her on edge as a knot of worry began to breed in her gut. You’re just being ridiculous. He’s probably tired with everything going on.
She attempted to push it off.
“Oh, um...” She cleared her throat, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear as she busied herself by turning her attention back to the stove when the kettle was slowly warming up. “Everything has been fine, really. Work is getting a tad busy, and that funeral last week? The one for that judge? We ended up getting a ton of orders in for it, so that kept us busy on top of the usual halloween-esque arrangements we needed to do.” She talked as she reached for the packets of hot chocolate she kept in one of the cupboards. With care, she ripped it open and poured it into the mug in preparation for the milk to be poured in. “Otherwise, it’s been the same old, same old. I am expecting it to get really crazy once we get closer to thanksgiving. We’ve already began ordering flowers and vases to fit the holidays.”
She stood there, hands on the counter as she watched the kettle, waiting for the first few wisps of steam to indicate it was warm enough for her drink. “So, do you want to watch a horror movie tonight?” She said as she turned her head to look at him. “Get into the spirit of Halloween and all? We could order something and have it delivered. Make a night of it.” She gave him a tentative smile, internally afraid he was going to brush her off again.
Finding a decent song was a matter of pushing the shuffle button. Immediately he caught the tune of the song playing and allowed it to wind through the verses toward the much cherished chorus. As he waited, Isaiah leaned against the counter and kept beat with his body.
"I wouldn't be surprised if things start to get screwy around here I've a feeling that someone's playing the politics game what with all the death going around. It's like a shitty case of Spanish influenza, isn't it? People dropping like flies for reasons unknown… There's definitely some political stench to it." It's strange enough that people are still holding public funerals like this. Haven't they caught on to the danger of groups? The Negaverse doesn't care who happens to gather, and neither do the senshi. They're just as much of a problem when they gather about a funeral pretending to protect the place. It's like trying to protect against bugs by lighting the house on fire.
Isaiah watched Gwen prepare her hot chocolate with little interest; he did, however, tune into the music as it played more familiar lyrics. "Three-way, freeway, take me like a sailor," he sang in practiced tune to the beat. "Three-way, freeway, wanna be a sailor?"
A-quick step, boy girl, love me like you love her, he mouthed next, and left it at that. Parting company from the counter, he started to drift about the kitchen in his usual fashion. "Sounds stressful. Have you thought about getting a massage to tide you over? Might come with a happy ending," he added on the sly.
”That’s definitely not a comforting thought.” She remarked on his political comment. Of course,s he knew better. The things that go bump in the night and were the cause of at least some of the deaths were the very things she spent her evening trying to get rid of, whether they were youma or nega agents. “Though I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you were right. Politics can be nasty business.”
As Isaiah began to entertain himself with the choice of song, one of which whose lyrics and tune were certainly entertaining to listen and sway too. Her hips moved every so slightly to the beat of the song as she reached over to grab the kettle which finally had warmed the milk enough for her use use. Carefully she poured the heated liquid into the mug, the powdered mix puffed up slightly at the intitial pour, but quickly began to mix into the milk. Grabbing a spoon from a drawer, she nudged it shut with her hip and began to stir to drink together, making a perfectly chocolate drink.
“Mmmm a massage would be nice.” She turned to him, her mug sitting on the counter behind her as blue eyes focused on him. “I can think of a few places that are a wee bit tense.” She returned his sly grin with one of her own. “Maybe I can rub away some of your own aches and pains?”
This was what she was use to with Isaiah. Not him being distant and uninterested. Perhaps he really had just been worried about her tasting the cigarette on him before. She found that thought very endearing.
Leaving the mug sitting on the table behind her, the kettle sitting on a cold burner, Gwen walked over to Isaiah, hips swaying once again, but not because of the music. “The question is, do we want to use lotion or perhaps just enjoy the heat from the shower?” She grinned, her hands sliding up his chest. “Maybe both?” She grinned.
That went in the wrong direction. Smooth, Isaiah. Walk her straight into it.
In a moment of oral agility, Isaiah had one of his tongue barbels loose in his mouth and he spat the ball into the cup of his hand. Screwing the bastards back in proved a lengthy and difficult endeavor, given all the spit involved and the lack of visual. Isaiah embarked on trying to reassemble his backmost tongue ring while Gwen occupied herself with running her hands up his chest. The motion itself put him off for its vanilla banality; for this, he wished he found a more experienced bedpartner. A more experienced, more open bedpartner. This whole notion of utter fidelity with no flexibility left him high and dry, wanting something better, but he lacked the time and venue to explain these needs.
But even if he found the ability to articulate himself in this respect, would she even take him seriously? Gwen was all adamance in the beginning, and wouldn't even let him try to barter a compromise. Was it a mistake to date her at all?
Isaiah tried to speak around the tongue ring, knowing full well he was incomprehensible at parts. "You know, I don't hink it'h he befft ifhea righf now. I'm kinf of hore."
Gwen didn’t really think much of the fact that he was i need ot wrestling his tongue piercing back into place. She’d watch him do from time to time with it came loose, but tonight she was much more interested in something else. So, Isaiah’s rather, round about way to get out of the little hole he dug himself into, did nothing to sway Gwen away from where she thought he had been leading.
Even his rather poor attempt at an excuse didn’t stop her as finger began to deftly work at the buttons of his shirt, unhindered by the fact that he was busy dealing with his piercing. One, two, three. With precision, Gwen undid the buttons and actually, it wasn’t until she was able half way down and the shirt stood open on its own that she caught the first glimpse of a bruise. “God, Isaiah, what happened here?” She questioned, not having seen the whole bruise and the others that accompanied it until she pulled the shirt open for a better inspection.
Her body went rigid as her knuckles whitened as she held the front of his shirt open. “Isaiah...what...please don’t tell me those are from someone else.” Cause they damn well look like something done purposely. And I sure as hell didn’t put them there, myself. It was like a slap in the face. She had found Matthew with markings too and he had told her not to worry about it, that it wasn’t her business. She was just there to appease Matthew, not the other way around. Was it being repeated again? What the hell did she do wrong
Isaiah felt the blood drain from his features as she kept going. He found little point in denying her this now; doing so only raised more suspicions and dug the hole deeper. For now, he let her discover the fruits of Kavinsky's labors on her own.
Okay, I won't, came the clipped reply in his head. Instead of responding straight away, he bought more time to think by securing his tongue ring. Afterward he wiped the spit off on his pants and rolled his tongue to ensure it remained in place. Here comes a conversation I never thought I'd have… And already I'm the one that has to justify myself against this oh-so-heinous crime. ********, how is it so hard to understand that just one boring, vanilla bedpartner isn't enough? Or that once you're used to variety being the spice of life, cutting it all out just leaves you wanting?
And I don't want to deal with the ******** waterworks either.
"Yes, actually, they are." His response carried an element of defensiveness to it. He parted from present company in a swift turn, electing to go for distance in what would undoubtedly be a messy argument. "I ******** the repairman that fixed the washing machine a while back." A few times.
Gwen didn’t move to follow Isaiah when he pulled away from her. She let her hands fall to her side as she watched his back. Shock was clearly there for the woman. This hadn’t been something she expected. She thought she had been doing well enough in being open and explorative when it came to new things in their relationship. Was that the problem? Or was he simply just tired of her? Maybe she did something wrong to deserve his ire?
Arms proceeded to rise and fold under her chest in a comforting fashion as she did he damn best to try and fight off the tears that were already brewing. “Why?” She said finally. Quietly. Her voice barely above a whisper with the single syllable question. It held a note of defeat in it, self pity, and noteable fear. “I thought you were OK with being monogamous? We talked about this in the beginning.”
She chewed at her bottom lip, the sinking feeling in her stomach growing. “Was it something I said or did?” It had to be her, right? Why else would he break his promise? Did she do something that would have led to this?
It was amazing how old habits and thoughts came rushing back as Gwen practically pulled into herself, afraid to reach out for fear of being struck or lashed at. Instead, she opted to take the blame. That always seemed to have cleared up the trouble before.
Yep, here it comes. Isaiah let out a slow breath. His hand framed the counter heavily, as if it alone anchored him. "I said I would try it - and I did. I tried it for… How long has it been?" His gaze drifted to the ceiling. "Four, five months? Maybe longer? You should be proud of me for going against my nature for so long.
"But it's exactly that - going against my nature. Being 'monogamous' means I'm not being myself. It means I'm being someone else to please what you want in a relationship. It's not what I want - and compromise wasn't an option, either.
"It's not your fault any more than my predisposition to snort cocaine is your fault." He sighed; this conversation proved draining already. "Look, I can't expect you to just grow a d**k. I can't expect you to suddenly know what it means to be a great dom, or a great sub. I know you don't trust me all that well; that's the basis for monogamous relationships. I'm just not a monogamous person. It's got nothing to do with you." He waited afterward, expecting the whole show of waterworks and rage and upset. She would have something to say, surely; she always did.
”I trust you.” She said in response, quietly. And she did, even now. Why? She wasn’t sure, but she did still trust him. This was a hiccup in their relationship something they could overcome.
“I want you to be you.” She said tentatively after a few moments of silence hung heavily in the air. “I don’t want to control you or...or tell you what to do. It’s just, so terribly hard to think of a relationship that’s not monogamous as something that involves love between two people.” She said, tears still threatening to unleash in a torrent down her face, but she sniffled them back, only allowing one or two to escape. A quick wipe with the heel of her hand removed the evidence of the escapees.
Suddenly she felt the need to move, to do something. So she walked over to her mug again. Steam still gently rose up from the hot chocolate. She could feel the pounding of her heart against her chest as she worked to try and control herself. “I...I don’t want this to come crashing down around us. I am proud of you. Proud that you gave this a shot, and hell, it’s not like I didn’t know you weren’t like this.”
Reaching out she wrapped her hands around the steaming mug, the warmth seeped into her body which she hadn’t realize begun to tremble slightly. “It’s just...a slap in the face. You did this behind my back and...you were going to hide it from me.” She said it all while staring at the liquid in her mug. “And I assume you did it right here in the apartment.” Not that that really mattered. Her brain was just working to connect everything.
Isaiah raised his right hand, palm flatted to invisible glass. "Guilty, guilty, guilty," he added before the palm struck the counter once more. "It wasn't the right choice to make, but it's the one that made sense at the time. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Be frustrated forever, or screw the nearest person and wait until you're up to the confrontation afterward. Not the best play, but…" He dropped his gaze momentarily.
It's the only one that made sense at the time.
"So, do what you need to do. Hit me if you have to." Lord knows I love it when people do. "But something has to change. Doing this…" He paused, hands searching for words, "This whole vanilla cupcake breeder scenario is just so damned out of the pale. I'm used to waking into clubs going by the hanky code and getting picked up by the first person to give me a wink. I'm used to going after GHB for recreation, not rape. Switching from that to 'introduce the girlfriend to diet kinks, make sure she's comfortable, don't forget to use the fuzzy handcuffs that everyone buys at Spencer's' is just… Dull. Flavorless.
"Before I moved here, I had a whole network of friends who were into pony play. My best girlfriend - not actual girlfriend, mind you - couldn't wait for the weekends so she could be a human lamp at her dom's house. My point is, do you even know what 24/7 TPE means? I grew up on a completely different world from yours. Victorian prospects of love died when Travis did. I'm just not interested in the tried-and-true monogamous play anymore. It's the quickest way to kill my spirit.
"So something has to change. What's it going to be, Gwen?"
”I told you I was willing to try things.” She hadn’t realized that those things he was doing he wasn’t interested in. Not really, anyway. Sure, maybe at first it had been fun for him, like many new relationships, but now? Well, apparently it was not enough to satiate his needs. She wasn’t enough.
“I don’t need to hit you.” She stated, slowly. “I don’t even want to hit you. That’s....it’s wrong. I am sorry, but that falls into a category I am not comfortable with.” At least when fighting. Isaiah had helped her discover she enjoyed some of the more rougher styles of play. But, this, tonight wasn’t the situation in which to start throwing punches. As much as she might agree with what he did. That it hurt her and even made her angry, she couldn’t ever raise her hand to him like that. “I’ve dealt with that before, being on the receiving end when in a fight. I refuse subject you or anyone else I love to that.”
“No. No I don’t know what it means. But that doesn’t mean I am not willing to learn.” She finally reached a point where anger was beginning to override her sense of sorrow for herself. She turned on her heels to face her boyfriend. “I told you that I was willing to try new things. To try and satiate you if you were monogamous. I thought it was working out! Why didn’t you say something earlier? Maybe...maybe we could have kept all of this from happening? From….” her hands gestured in front of her indicating the two of them “us standing in the kitchen yelling at each other.”
And then he dropped it. And obvious ultimatum.
Eyes wide, Gwen realized that this whole relationship was teetering on the edge, and it was her decision which way it was going to go. She could turn around and walk away, and, within few weeks Isaiah would probably be out of her life completely since he’d probably move out. She’d be back to living by herself, being lonely...miserable. Or, she could branch out, attempt to put effort into something she had never, ever thought she’d be able to do. Try to wrap her mind around something that was nearly incomprehensible to her. How could a couple remain a strong relationship while sleeping with other people? It just wasn’t connecting for her.
“I…” She hesitated, licking her lips. Her stomach felt like it was doing all sorts of flips and turns while her heart pounded harder. One way or another, things were going to change drastically. This was a decision that...well…
“What do I need to do?” She questioned. “What....how does this all work?”
She walked over to him. Carefully, tentatively she reached a hand out to place on his chest. Eyes and fingers traced the bruises that mottled his skin. “I don’t want to loose you if there’s something that I can do to try and make this work.”
You can run on for a long time,
Run on for a long time,
Run on for a long time;
Sooner or later God'll cut you down.
Isaiah reached for the remote as soon as he heard the ironically damning lyrics and put a stop to their background playlist. He needed no Johnny Cash mocking him for his choices to cheat and try to get away with it. "There's not really an easy way to turn to your girlfriend and say, 'honey I'm horny as a hog for a fat schlong this evening. Mind if I seduce the pizza delivery man?' It just doesn't work that way. And besides, I wasn't even sure you would take me seriously. Or it could've been just as big of a deal as now. Hindsight will always make my choices look like s**t." The remote was clapped atop the counter following the end of his sentence.
One leg poised in front of the other when he shifted his weight contrapposto. "Look, I know your last boyfriend was s**t to you. I promise, you deserve better. Hell, you deserve better than this, too. But I'm serious when I say we'd have ended up yelling at each other in the kitchen anyway."
He reminded himself to breath slowly, to keep calm for both their sakes. Really, he wanted to self-medicate, to take himself far and beyond the trapping, choking normalcy of this conversation.
And then, unfortunately, desperation and anxiety forced Gwen toward making a worse decision. "No, no," Isaiah cautioned as he framed his face in his hands. His skin felt hot beneath his fingertips. "That's not how this works. Don't go pendulum swinging into the opposite direction and expect it to stick. That's not going to make either one of us happy.
"I can promise you that you won't like 24/7 TPE. It's dangerous, even. It stands for total power exchange, and it's… Well, it's a part of D/s culture that involves someone else telling you when you can eat, what you can wear at home, what you'll be doing with that next hour of your time, and the like. Trust me, it's all very, very different from vanilla sex. But, here's the deal. Maybe we can work something out. If I find someone I think is interesting, I could let you know and you can see them for yourself. If you don't like them, I'll find someone else to sleep with. One and done, they're out of the way unless they're good enough for a repeat performance. It's simple, straightforward, and I'm good at getting my playmates vetted. Nothing amiss.
"Besides, it gives me someone I can talk to, too. I don't like my past rotting under the floorboards, so to speak."
“No.” The word came out before she could even think about it. The hand which had been brushing against the dark marks fisted against his chest. She looked up at him, blue eyes unwavered as she sought out his hazel. “You tried your damn hardest for me. Did something that you weren’t comfortable with for months. I think it’s only fair that I attempt the same.” She released her fist and pushed away from him gently, turning to walk back over to the counter which she gripped as if using it to keep herself standing.
“I don’t want to be the odd one out. I want to be a part of this.” She turned her face back to him. “I...fine, perhaps TPE may be extreme, and you’re right, I probably would hate it. But I don’t think you’re bad for me, so please don’t say that. I love you, respect you and...I need to learn that maybe my conception of what a relationship should be may not be right. You’ve been able to have more experiences than me. More...positive ones anyway. Maybe I just need to be introduced to all of this. To just….do it.”
“So, no. I don’t want you to just...bring someone home to bang and be done with on nights that I am not enough for you. Not unless….not unless I am part of it.” God, that felt so weird to say, but Gwen was very much dedicated to this relationship. Perhaps Isaiah was right and she was moving like a pendulum to try and make what they had work, but she would loathe herself for not trying. For being afraid of something new and different. Wasn’t the whole point of moving here to find out more about herself and try new things?
“Don’t….please don’t shut me out from at least trying. For all I know, this may end up making sense in the end. If not…” Well...she didn’t really want to think about that prospect, but if it was obvious these forays weren’t working for her or him then well...they’d have to consider different avenues or just consider themselves done with the relationship. That hurt her heart to think about.
Isaiah laid a hand over her fist, sandwiching her hand between heat. "Look, I don't think diving in is the best idea with this? Granted, I didn't have the healthiest introduction to kink either, but I also wasn't being thrown into the thick of it first thing." Not that you really care; you've never taken an interest in getting to know who I was or where I came from. She left in a spin, and he let her hand slip from his grasp without resistance.
"We could start off with threesomes?" He offered mildly. "No toys, nothing special. Just a third party." Bargaining for her better wishes as well as his wants in a relationship left him at an odd crossroads; he felt like he fought himself on the matter, incessantly, with Gwen only working to push him in a direction against what would be best for her. But did he really know what she could handle? Sure, they were together for months, but he couldn't exactly walk in her shoes. Not only was the practice alone erasure and seldom helpful toward empathy, but she lived a life that he never experienced in the slightest. When he was cheated on, the scenario proved far different than hers.
"I'm trying to look out for you and for myself here. You don't want to walk yourself into a six-hour scene that will leave you unable to stand for the next whole day and have that be your introduction to it all. Trust me, you'd feel horrible afterward and you wouldn't want to do it again. Hell, I didn't even want to do it again and I had years' experience behind me. Felt like my legs were going to break off in the worst ways.
"Just…" He paused, then sighed. "I need a smoke." He needed one of his more soothing cigarettes that could erase the knotting pit in his abdomen. Without waiting for an objection, he darted for the slider to the deck.
She mulled over what he was telling her. After all, he was the expert in this situation. There were so many situations he’d been in and different people he had experienced that she knew she needed to bend to him here. Still, it wasn’t easy. She was dead ********’ determined to make this work. One way or another. If threesomes were the way to start then, that’s where she’d start. She was about to say so too when he announced he needed a smoke and hurried to the deck.
Realizing this was her chance to think this all through without him there. It was, in some ways, less pressure to ponder your future with a person when they weren’t in the same room with you. So, in an attempt to busy herself while lost in thought she walked to the bedroom to change. While she slipped out of her work clothes and into one of her nightgowns, she carefully thought about everything they’d gone through together. What she had learned about him. What he had learned about her. They were obviously such different people from different backgrounds that it almost made no sense that they were together, but there had to be some sort of connection there, right? How else could they have made it this long? Could Isaiah have made it this long going against his very nature?
Was it worth this?
Grabbing a plush robe in a rich purple tone, she wrapped it around herself and passes back out to the kitchen in her bare feet. She stood at the slider, a hand on the door as she looked out him as he leaned over the railing puffing away at his cigarette. Taking a deep breath she pushed the door open and slid outside into the cooling air. Thankfully it wasn’t so cold out yet that being outside in her robe and barefoot wasn’t much of a problem.
Walking up behind Isaiah she wrapped her arms around his waist, her cheek resting against his back, eyes closed. “We’ll do it your way. Whatever way you think is best for the both of us.” She said softly to him. “You’re the one who knows how this all works and I don’t want to chance that I may hate something because I was too pig headed to listen to your advice.” And it was true. She knew she was being headstrong inside. “I just don’t want to be left completely out.”
She gave him a little squeeze, before disengaging her arms from his waist and sliding beside him, leaning forward on the banister. “Does this work for you?” She looked at him questioningly. “I am not lying Isaiah, I really want to try and make this work for both of us. I want to try and understand you better.”
As she leaned against the rail, looking up at him, it put her in reasonable distance to get whiffs of his cigarette smoke. The terrible smell she normally complained about, as it was not something she much liked, but in this situation, complaining about his bad habit wasn’t important. Even if that vinegar-like smell from the brand he was smoking this time smelt terrible.
Isaiah didn't immediately respond when he felt her at his back; his gaze remained focused far in the distance, alongside his mind. After a deep drag, he sat up somewhat against the pressure of her against his spine. "We'll see," he muttered with cigarette still trapped in his lips. "We'll see."
He continued to stare into the distance even as she lined up beside him, though he reached out with the help of his peripheral vision and laid a lanky arm across her shoulders. A quick tug urged her closer. Maybe if the wind felt amenable, it would blow his smoke in the opposite direction. He didn't want to know if she could get contact high from this. "I think you might find it's a lot easier to understand how you can ******** someone and keep feelings out once you've tried it. I'm not really sure what that'd be like, anyway." He smirked, then. "Someone once told me it was breeder propaganda to stick with the Christian one-mate-until-death MO. Makes sense to me."
Another drag, and he felt the brilliant rush. The smoke expertly whisked away his anxieties, his tensions, his knots in all parts of his body. His heart slowed from its rush. With it came the unfailing surety that all things would work out - between them, and between far greater problems than their singular relationship. Truly, the world's order fell out of his hands, but it need not lead him to fret.
"Let me show you something." He pulled the cigarette from mouth, and pointed with the stick still in his hand. He gestured toward the neighbor's house, far across the backyard, where the great bay windows opened into their living room. "The left window, there. See that? Our neighbors are talking on their couch right now, but they're about to get down to business. Like, exhibitionist business. Like, 'they pointed their couch at the window for a reason' business. They want people to watch - us included."
”I think, if you grow up with parents who loved one another deeply and were very much tied to each other, that leaves a strong imprint on you when it comes to what love is suppose to be like.” She commented. “After all, it’s not just in Christianity that people have one mate until death.” Her tone was light and easy as she let him pull her closer to him without any resistance. She just shifted her weight and adjusted her feet to better accommodate herself against him. “But, I suppose I won’t know until I at least try. Maybe it really does just take an open mind and the willingness to give something a shot.”
Blue eyes shifted from Isaiah to the direction he indicated. She felt a sudden flush light her face. It felt oddly strange to be standing on her porch looking out and into someone else’s house. Especially people who, according to Isaiah were soon going to be doing more than just talking. “It feels...wrong to be spying on them in their own house.” She said, carefully. “I mean, if they want people to watch, that’s ok. I mean, it’s like watching porn in a sense, right? But it feels...wrong to watch them from afar like this without them knowing we are.” Isaiah did have a point though. They could have placed their couch in a different position. Or hell, drew blinds or went elsewhere. But, as they watched the couple soon moved on from talking to volleying with each others tonsils.
“Huh…” She said as she continued to watch, unable to rip her gaze away despite the little bit of shame that was blossoming in her chest at spying. “So you think they get off at the thought of someone watching them?” She supposed that could be kinky to some. Was it something she could get into? It was hard to say without being placed in such a situation.
"Well, I can say with absolute confidence that what you're describing doesn't fit my parents one bit. Or my mom and stepdad, really." He doubted his mom was open to loving anymore - he doubted it very much. He knew of no one else, personally, who endured what she did. He imagined that the simple fact of her finding another relationship proved an immense miracle. Isaiah doubted he would have the strength to endure a second relationship after the first ended in murder counts.
"You might like it, though. Of course, you might hate it too, but I like to think the jealousy thing only kicks up in theory." Isaiah took another drag, and was sorely disappointed to find his cigarette burnt nearly to the filter. "I think you'll have plenty of fun. Like our neighbors."
Isaiah leaned against the banister while he watched them blatantly. They knew, naturally. He imagined that, if they had been at this for a while, it was easy to tell. "Oh, I know they do. There's always signs to it. There's a whole subculture around communicating these things without telegraphing it to the vanilla masses. You've seen people with handkerchiefs in their pockets, right? Now imagine if different colors in different pockets told people what you were into - what you were interested in that night. Surprise, now your clothing tells everyone around you what your kinks are. If they're paying a modicum of attention.
A last drag, and he stubbed his cigarette out on the railing. "Now, let's go back inside. I want to lay down and do s**t-all for like, twenty hours. And maybe have a warm bath. Not in that order." If Gwen were Sid, he would've asked for a reach around while the neighbors played - but Gwen was far from warmed up to the idea. If Gwen were Sid, he would've waited on the laced cigarette until after play.
His hand left her back and he pushed off from the railing. "Come on," he tossed over his shoulder. "The night only gets colder from here."
hetzerei
