Save the Date
an Emery & Chris story
Chris and Emery relax on a hot Georgia night and finalize some plans for the wedding. Chris is being a tease, so Emery has a reward for good behavior planned out later
Warnings: Language, Adult Situations, Fluff, NSFW, oral sex
Word Count 2798
“So you pick the hottest day of summer to sit down and plan our winter wedding?”
Emery sits the beer on the table in front of him, and moves the ash tray from the railing of the porch, closer to him. She pulls up her chair, slips off her sandals and rests them on the edge of his chair. “Babe, I hate to tell you, it’s gonna be even hotter tomorrow and you promised you’d go to my nephew’s ball tournament.”
She giggles when he rolls his eyes and drops his head back, his jaw dropping open in the process. “Oh, my God, I’m gonna die. They won’t cancel the game in this heat?”
“Ya big Yankee baby! We don’t cancel games on account of heat! And you promised that little boy!”
“I know, I know. Fine. Damn, It’s hot as hell here,” he rubs his hand across his beard, scratching his fingertips under his nose, over his mustache. “Ok, ok. Think cold. Boston. Winter. Snow. Why are we getting married in December anyway?” Chris chuckles.
“Because I’ll be on sabbatical and you get time off from filming,” she tiredly explains again. “We can still have time for Disney, our wedding and a honeymoon.”
“Why don’t we get married at Disney?”
“Babe, I’m not getting married at Disney.” She fans herself with a section of the newspaper left lying on the table, her tone quickly becoming exasperated with his little verbal game.
“But all the weddings I’ve seen from there are beautiful. It could be a true fairytale wedding. We got engaged at Disney; we should get married there.”
“I’m not getting married at Disney.”
“Mickey Mouse could walk you down the aisle.” Chris takes another deep inhale before putting out the cigarette, knowing it’s a habit she only pretends to tolerate.
“You wanna explain that to my father?” Chris shudders at the thought, and she giggles. “We are not getting married at Disney.”
“Chris. Listen now. We. Are. NOT. Getting. Married. At. Disney. “ He smiles at the distinct Southern twang to her voice she attains whenever she’s worked up about something. He likes to do it on purpose just to hear her speak. She continues her explanation, the one he feels like he’s already heard a thousand times. He just likes hearing her talk about their wedding, still somewhat in awe he actually found a girl who wants to marry him. “We’ve already chosen a date in December that allows us to renew our vows every year there; take an annual anniversary trip there, but we are getting married in Boston.”
He sighs deeply. “Fine.”
She sees the gleam in his eyes and knows he was messing with her the whole time. “Ass,” she laughs. “You do know the date, right?”
“Ha, ha. Very funny. December 10. I’ll be there in whatever you tell me to wear. It apparently will not include Disney mouse ears…”
“It most definitely will not. You narrowed it down to three suits, right?”
“Yes, Ilaria and I took care of that and we have an appointment week after next when you get back from that other conference you have to attend. That way you both make the final decision together. I’m just the guy that has to look good in it. Just think, honey, your own personal suit porn,” He laughs, appealing to her inner fangirl. “Hey, I got a question: Why are we doing this? Why don’t we just get a wedding planner?”
“Are you serious? Do you know how detail oriented I can be? Between my mother and sisters on this end, and your mom, sisters and Tara in Boston, why the hell do we need a planner?” She taps the notebook in front of her, indicating all the information they need for their impending nuptials are all right there.
“Shit, that’s a lot of chiefs to have to answer to,” he laughs.
She nods her head in agreement. She quietly exhales, “Hey, I’m making sacrifices too, just to try to make everyone happy. Just remember what my dad said-”
“‘Yes, dear,’” Chris chimes in. “Your father is a very smart man.” He looks at the notes in front of her, reading down the list of names, pulling his shirt away from him as it sticks to his chest in the hot sticky weather. “Damn, babe! Between all our siblings to be in the wedding party, will there be anyone left to actually watch us get married?”
She laughs. “We’ve talked about this. Can you focus and remember this time?” she sees the devilish light return to his eyes. Her voice takes a steely tone. “Dammit, Evans, if you quit playing around, this could go a lot easier.”
“Can we get to the fucking part of this conversation then?”
She tosses her head back and laughs, using the towel on the table to wipe the trickle of sweat running down between her breasts. “Yes, dear. This really won’t take long….”
He claps his hands together enthusiastically. “Ok, well I’m away from set all of December. Everyone from Marvel that we plan to invite already has the date on the calendar so they can make it and-“
“FUCK! FUCK. Fuck, fuck fuck,” Emery exclaims, her eyes wide in horror.
“You! You’ll be working! You’ll be in Steve mode. You’ll be solid as a brickhouse, but you’ll be shaved! Oh, god dammit! How fast can you grow the beard out?”
Chris throws his head back, laughing so hard the chair nearly tips out from under him. Gasping to catch his breath, he rubs his hands on his thighs, shaking his head. “Babe. I promise, even if I have to film a day or two after Thanksgiving, I can have Gifted beard, just like you like, in time for the wedding.”
“Oh, thank God. I mean, I loved Steve Rogers first, but the man I really love has this amazing beard,” she leans forward to scratch his chin and he turns to kiss the palm of her hand, the bristles tickling at her delicate flesh.
“I can show you in a little bit some amazing things this beard can do?” he offers, kissing her palm again.
“I’m gonna hold you to that, but after we finish this,” she chuckles, trying to ignore the rising heat she feels internally.
A gentle breeze passes through the back yard and the wind chimes play a gentle tune.
“Alright. So I’m on now, huh? Prove to you I pay attention, Ms. Thomas, is that it?”
“If you can pass the test, I’ve got a nice incentive waiting for you,” she giggles.
“Alright then, Scott has been asked to be the best man. We’ve got Josh, D, Ryan, Parker, Reece- the brother squad- and my friend Brad lined up for the wedding party. And you, you’ve got Mackinzie as the maid of honor and the bridesmaids are Carly, Shanna, Susan, Tara, Jen and Katie. Which, by the way, I’ll say again, it’s just a little weird you insisted on Jen in the wedding. I know you two have known each other a long time, but she writes ‘Evans porn.’ It’s just weird.”
Emery laughs at the blush on his face. “Honey, you liked her when we met her, and we are close friends. She’s moved on to another crush now that she says she sees you are truly serious -”
Chris interrupts. “Excuse me, moved on? Which of my Marvel boys do I need to warn?”
Emery chuckles, playfully hitting his arm. She shakes her head, “I will not betray her confidences… Fangirl oath. Sorry. I was a fangirl, and always will be.” She shrugs her shoulders and rolls her eyes. “A lot of my friends invited to the wedding are gonna be fangirls, but everyone has promised to remain calm.”
“It’s fucked up, but whatever. Speaking of ‘fucked?’” He inquires with a turn of his head and his famously raised eyebrow.
“Not till we finish the list,” Emery taps the table, trying to get him back on task, the sounds of crickets filling the air as the sun drops behind the tree line.
Chris continues his train of thought, reporting through the list of facts he reviews almost daily. “We’re all reporting December 10, in the morning at the barn. But you’ll be the one at the gazebo, cause I can’t see you before. Separate photography before and family photos and our pictures after. Dinner is some kinda fish, roast and I don’t care,” he rolls his eyes. “Scott and Josh are taking care of the DJ and we have to have our playlists compiled, when? By the first of September, right?” He smiles when Emery nods her approval of his recitation.
“Have you thought any more about my request?” she asks tentatively.
Chris shakes his head ‘no.’ “Babe, I would give you the world, but I’m not singing.”
“But I’ve caught you practicing my favorite song, and it’s perfect for a wedding. Please?”
Reaching to caress the back of her hand, “Kitten, I do have a plan for that song, but I can’t sing in front of all those people. I just can’t.”
Emery turns her hand, capturing his and raising it to her lips. His hand smells like him, sweat and cigarettes, and her stomach turns somersaults. Stupid pheromones. “Alright, I understand. I’d like you to think about it more, but I won’t ask again. I know you’ve got enough stress.”
Ignoring the shitty feeling her comment gives him, he continues down the check list, wanting to get this done. Just the simple act of her lips on his knuckles has kicked him into overdrive and her tanned legs propped up on the edge of his seat don’t help any.
He continues quickly. “We’ve got a couple of days before the wedding to set up the venue, brunch the day after, and then we leave on our destination honeymoon and I’m still not telling you where that is… Wanna know why I can’t tell you?”
“Because you haven’t decided yet?” she asks.
“Because I haven’t decided yet,” he chuckles. “Oh, you think you know me so well.”
“I do, babe, I do.”
“Kitten, you just keep practicing those words. You need those for the ceremony,” he chuckles, running his fingertips up her calf, watching her begin to squirm. “That’s your important line that day. Don’t blow it. I hate working with amateurs.”
“Ha, ha, very funny. You forget, as a teacher, I perform every day, on the spot. With no script. That probably makes me the seasoned professional. Someone else writes your words for you.” She playfully taps his arm, “The vows?”
“Shit, okay, we’re writing our own vows, so I guess those are important too.”
“And if I hear anything sounding like anything you have ever said on screen before, you’re a dead man,” she threatens quietly, with a deadly serious look in her eyes.
“I got this. I can write my own professions of love to you.”
Chris notices with each rise and fall of her chest that she isn’t wearing a bra under her pale pink tank top. In the heat, sweat pools under her breasts, her shirt clinging in just the right places, tendrils of curls wet against her neck. He wonders if he’s ever seen her look so beautiful, so natural before.
She snaps her fingers in front of his face, pulling him from his musings. “No writing it the night before, half drunk.”
“I’ll have you know I have already started making notes,” he laughs. “Okay, back to the list. Where was I? Destination honeymoon, then meeting everyone in Orlando and then Christmas. Am I forgetting anything big right now?”
“No, sweetie, I think you pretty much got it.” She relaxes know, realizing his forgetfulness through most of their wedding discussions has all been an act, simply to annoy her. It worked. She’ll be addressing that with him tomorrow, she thinks to herself.
Proudly, he puffs up his chest, knowing he has been able to recite the wedding details nearly from memory. “So are we done?”
“One more thing,” she smiles. “Tara is taking care of the cake. She wants to know if we want an actual cake or cupcakes?”
“Both?” he chuckles when he sees his answer pleased his future bride. “Cause isn’t it tradition to keep the top tier of the cake and freeze it and eat it on your first anniversary? And cupcakes mean we can have all our favorite kinds of cake and everyone can pick and choose what they want, right?”
“Right,” she smiles, making a note on the pad of paper in front of her. “Oh, speaking of traditions, listen to this and tell me what you think?”
She outlines a plan that had come to her while she was daydreaming during her math conference the week before. Chris chuckles and agrees he thinks it’s a great plan. “I’ll get you the phone numbers you need. I’ll let that be your little project; I can’t wait to hear how that turns out. You know you’re amazing?”
“What the hell do we need a ton of presents for? Between us we have like, what? Three houses and an apartment?” she giggles as he counts on his fingers. “How many toasters do we need?” she tosses out. “If I get to leave that day with a ring on my finger and your last name, I’m set. I don’t need anything else.”
The temperature continues to drop as sunset fades to darkness and the breeze cools the sweat along the neckline of Chris’s t-shirt. “And I get you, so I guess you’re right. We don’t need anything else. I love your plan. It’s beautiful; just like you.”
He rises from her chair and scoops his hands under her to pick her up from her seat. “Mr. Evans, what are you doing?”
“Going out into the yard to lay in the grass and make love to you under the stars; it’s a private back yard with high fences. The neighbors won’t know.”
“There’s also ticks and chigggers. You ain’t taking me out and fuckin’ me on the grass,” her accent rings through her words like music to his ears.
“Emery Rose, that may be THE most Southern thing I’ve ever heard you say,” he whispers in her ear, his breath hot against her skin.
“Also spiders,” she teases.
He sets her down, complaining quietly about the South in summer, and quickly reclines the oversized patio chaise lounge before lifting her tank top over her arms exposing her beautiful skin to the glow of the moon, lights from the kitchen window back lighting her beautiful body.
The smell of cigarette smoke and beer wafts to her nose and she giggles as he lays her down gently, tugging her short shorts off on one swift motion.
“Did I pass the recitation portion of my exam, Miss Thomas?” he whispers gruffly in the dark, kneeling between her spread legs.
A breathy moan escapes her lips as his beard brushes against her thigh, his hands sliding up her legs. “Yea, gold stars,” she giggles, tugging her fingers through his damp, sweaty hair.
He rises momentarily to pull his shirt over his head and she yelps in surprise when the Saint Christopher’s medallion feels cold against her leg.
“Do you think you could help with the oral part of my test?” Chris asks, diving between her legs with no pretense of foreplay.
His tongue slices through her wet divide. Her scent is amplified by the Georgia heat, musky, yet sweet. He pushes his tongue in her welcoming hole and pulls back slowly, devilishly as she squirms beneath him.
Emery shifts her ass on the cushion, raising her foot onto the edge of the lounge, bringing her waiting pussy closer to his mouth, opening herself wide for his greater enjoyment. She grabs his shoulders, kneading her fingers in his tight muscles, basking in the attentions of his tongue, dipping in and out, his lips stopping occasionally to kiss the soft flesh of her inner thighs.
Her vocals increase when he begins to drill her with two fingers, twisting and teasing as they push and flutter against her inner walls, his tongue still working its magic. “Oh, shit, she whispers when one flick of his wide tongue sweeps over her taint. “Damn,” she hisses.
He chuckles softly, lost in his thoughts, licking the spot again as she begins to grind against his palm. She comes quickly, a series of moans pushing from her lungs, “Yes, Chris, yes,” she hisses.
His fingers slow their task and he licks her clean, reveling in her taste.
“Catch your breath, babe, cause I need my turn. I’m gonna-”
“Hey!” a voice yells over the fence. “No one answered the front door? We brought ice cream! Yoo-hoo!” calls out Emery’s mother.
Emery makes a quick naked dash into the house, laughter following her, leaving Chris to deal with his visible need and his future in -laws.
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