Birthday Sweets

birthday sweets june 13 2018.jpg

Birthday Sweets

an Emery&Chris story

by avenger-nerd-mom

On a secluded boat dock, Chris and Emery celebrate his 37th birthday together

Warnings: NSFW, language, cunnilingus, anal fingering, intercourse

Word Count 2781

June 2018

Humming a little tune, Chris clears up their trash, throwing the items back in the picnic basket. Looking at his watch, he gets a little concerned, wondering what’s keeping Emery so long. Tossing the bread crumbs in the lake he watches as small fish swarm around, trying to get their fill. He smiles when he hears her steps pounding down the dock. Turning to watch her, his heart fills with pride at her beauty and grace, hidden under a flirty summer sundress, and criss-crossed tan lines on her shoulders. His face lights up. “Why didn’t you just go behind the tree?” he teases.

She stops dead in her tracks, hand on her hip, the other hiding behind her back. “Because, I’m a lady,” she quotes, “that’s why!”

Falling forward gently from his squatting position, he lands on his knees, resting his fists on his thighs. He effects the same accent from one of their favorite Disney movies, and asks, “What’s hiding behind your back?”

She giggles. Returning her voice to her casual Southern drawl, she replies, “Well, I know you said you didn’t want cake until all the family comes down this weekend, so-” Emery swings her arm around, presenting a small gift bag, “here’s a little something till then.”

She steps forward, kicking off her sandals and handing it to him, before carefully sitting on the edge of the plaid blanket. He peers down into the bag and lets out a whoop of excitement. “From Leopold’s?” He asks, pulling out a travel container of ice cream.

She grins, happily nodding and pulling out two spoons from her pocket. She’d arranged for his favorite flavors to be packaged up from their favorite shop in Savannah to make the journey without him even knowing. “There’s more up in the cabin. This is the rum cake one.”

Pulling the lid off carefully, he licks the smear of melted cream stuck to the top. “You really are the best birthday party planner ever, Em. How’d I get so lucky to find you?”

She shrugs her shoulders as he rocks back again, landing on his butt and crossing his legs ‘indian-style’ to sit on the dock. “We have had a good day, haven’t we? Sleeping in, hiking, swimming-”

“Getting sunburned-”

“We’ll put more aloe on later,” she says, dipping her spoon in the small cup when he passes it to her. “I kept telling you to put on more sunscreen.”

He points his spoon to the water, pointing out where a fish  jumped out above the surface. She nods, acknowledging she saw it. “Just more proof you’ll make a great mom someday. You’ve had plenty of practice with me.” She bristles at his comment. “I know, I know. You’re not my mother,” he chuckles, bumping her shoulder. “But you are good at taking care of people, making them feel special.” He waves his hand wildly. “All this… I feel so loved.”

She scoots forward, dropping her legs over the edge of the dock. “Because you are.”

“I am, and I feel it every day. I am really lucky to have you.” He holds the cup to her again, and she takes another spoonful. He watches as she slowly licks the spoon, savoring the flavor before pulling it off with her tongue. “Still can’t believe you rented out the whole damn place; it’s awesome.”

“Well, you were fussing on me to be more extravagant and relax about money. I didn’t want anything for myself, so spending it on you seemed logical. Besides, it’s not like I really rented out the whole place. Another couple was supposed to be here, but the owner said Saturday when I talked to her they canceled, and no one else was booked. She said it’s ‘cause of the draught, and the water is too low for boats to get back up in here.” Emery reaches for another spoonful of ice cream. She yelps when a fish nibbles her toe, and she kicks her feet like crazy to scare them away. “That’s when I told the lady not to rent out the other cabins, and we settled on a price.” She swipes away a dragonfly buzzing around her head.

“When I told you to spend money, I didn’t mean on me. But I like we enjoy this together. It’s good we like the same outdoorsy things.”

She bites her lip to hide her smile. Turning towards him, she lays her spoon down, finished with the ice cream. She raises her eyebrow. “I like doing other kinds of outdoor things with you as well.”

Chris laughs, the sound bouncing off the water, and echoing back. “Oh, really?” He sets down the finished ice cream cup. “What did you have in mind?”

Emery grabs his ankle and untucks his feet, pulling his leg out straight as she begins to climb up his body. He leans back on his elbows, watching her prowl. She pauses, tugging on the hem of his shorts. “These pants are ridiculous,” she says.

“Scott picked them out,” he smiles.

She shakes her head. “Ya know, I knew from the first night we met, I liked you. Wanna know why?” He nods and she continues. “One of the first things you said to me, that got you in trouble, was when you quoted dating advice from your brother. I thought, ‘that’s a guy that loves his family no matter what’ and I knew we’d get along. But, uh,” she runs her hands over the buttons on his shirt, “don’t take fashion advice from your gay brother either.”

“I thought I looked good? You complained I looked too much like a ‘dude bro’ the other day at lunch?” He smiles, watching her hands as she pushes against his chest, flattening him to the dock.

She rolls her eyes, resting her body on his belly and sitting up. He places his hands on her thigh, her skin warm from the summer sun. “That restaurant was too fancy for you to be wearing workout gear and a frat-boy ball cap… And yes, you do look good right now.” She reaches down and scratches his scruffy chin. “Like ‘Harvard Hottie’ grew up and became a professor. I like it.” She moans softly as his hands grace up her legs, higher and higher.

“Em!” In total disbelief, he asks, “Did you leave something back at the cabin?”

“Yup!” She pops the letter ‘p,’ lifting her skirt and flashing him, showing off she’s already wet.

His hands slide under her, lifting her from his chest. “I really like this new, playful, horny as hell, wife I have. I should turn thirty-seven all the time,” he growls, bringing her forward.

She scoots her knees along, following his lead, and he watches her excited smile grow. The fading sunlight casts a warm glow as it drifts through the trees. He wants to freeze time, to make every moment count. He kneads her ass, pulling at the soft flesh. Pushing her higher, she lifts her knees over his shoulders one at a time, her feet resting on his biceps and toes curling under his arms. Wrapping his hands over her thighs, he spreads her succulent pink lips. “Is this present just for me?”

He kisses her thigh on the left, as she murmurs her approval. Blowing out cool air across her exposed sex, he moves across to kiss her on the right. He lifts his head, running the tip of his nose against the delicate skin of her inner thighs. Her skin rises into goosebumps despite the humid air.

“You still hungry?” she asks, voice husky and skittish with anticipation.

“I believe I am.” He paws at her with his strong hands, bringing them together to meet, pushing his thumbs against her clit as she gasps. Forcing her down, her ass rests on his clavicles while his tongue dips in the sweet well. With a languorous lick from front to back, he grips her thighs firmly. Holding her tight so she can’t squirm away, he repeats the action again and again. Her sweet juice floods his tongue, replacing the faint flavoring of the ice cream treat. “So lickable,” he moans quietly, probing gently with his tongue.

Leaning back with her hands grabbing his pecs, she grinds herself against his mouth and chin. He knows the beard is an added sensual bonus. Peeling his eyes open, he sees nothing but the setting sun, low in the sky, shades of pink and purple. His attentions bring forth quiet pants and cries from his lovely wife, and the sound causes a tightening in his pants. “Louder, Kitten, there’s no one around to hear you.”

“Mmmhm,” Emery moans, breathing hard and gripping the sides of his ribcage. Her manicured nails scrape his shirt and he wished there was less clothing between them.

Slowly blinking his eyes closed, his tongue laps through her again. Tasting her inner core, his nose grazes her clit. She jumps in his arms, leaning forward and pushing his head away from the sensitive spot. “Baby,” he chuckles, opening his mouth wider for a soothing lick, easing the sensitive spot.

Wanting to thoroughly please her, he closes his mouth sloppily over her lips, teasing with his tongue. Imitating a French kiss, he explores her delicious pussy. His beard is wet with her dew and he swallows the flood, wondering how long she’ll last.

Gently she reaches down, caressing the top of his head, running her hands through his hair. “You’re gonna make me come.” Massaging his scalp, she lifts his head, pushing him deeper into the wet pool, barely able to breathe.

Chris’s hands grip her ass, squeezing and pulling her close. Her hands at the back of his head, tug and pull his hair, moving his head back and forth. His tongue flicks in and out, caressing against her clit and against the side of her swollen lips. She falls forward, supporting herself with one hand while the other still plays in his hair. Her shift brings her closer to his mouth and lifts her ass into the air. His hands clench the rounded bubble, pulling her cheeks apart as his tongue continues to work. Trapped under her, his movement is limited. But it’s the best place to be! Her sounds grow louder as she rides his face, grinding in a circular sway. Gathering her slick, he wets his thumb and brushes across her taint at the same time his lips gently suction over her clit. Tenderly, he tortures her with his mouth, sucking and pulling an orgasm from her as he teases her pulsing asshole with his thumb.

Seduced by the added pressure, her tiny cries grow louder. Leaning forward on both elbows, her pussy pulls away. Lifting his head, he keeps their contact as she calls out, “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Her legs spread wider and his thumb eases in, up to his knuckle. The release of fluids is too much to swallow, but he laps up what he can as she continues to ride his face. She pushes her ass against his palm, his thumb gliding in deeper and his lips slide free from her dripping cunt. “Fuck me, now,” she purrs, laughing at her command.

His beard is liberally coated with her runoff and his thumb remains trapped inside her hole. Crawling out from under her, he quickly swipes his face against the plaid picnic blanket. “We really should camp more often,” he chuckles. He slowly rolls his hand around, twisting out his thumb, watching the tiny hole close back up. He playfully nips his teeth across her tight ass, giving it a smack for good measure. Rolling to his side, seeing her stance, his stomach tightens.

Her beautiful backside is in the air, and she’s positioned her legs back together. Her spine arches and she’s resting forward, collapsed on her arms. The flowered sundress is bunched around her waist and one of the straps hangs down her arm. Glistening in the setting sun, her ripe juice runs down her inner thighs. “Don’t move,” he growls, unbuckling his belt quickly and pulling his pants down to his knees. With a few quick pumps of his hand, he’s hard and ready. Crawling towards her, he leans forward, running his tongue up her thigh and catching a drop of her sweet release. He positions himself behind her, guiding his hard cock through the wet mess.

“Chris, don’t play, come on and fuck me,” she says, reaching over her shoulder and twisting her hair up, off her neck.

He can see beads of sweat laced along her neckline, and he bends over her, blowing a cooling breath across the back of her neck and shoulders as he slips his thick head between her lips. The walls of her pussy hug his cock, sucking him in, molding around him. Made for each other. A perfect fit. “What a gift,” he sighs as he pushes deeper, bottoming out. He stills while she shifts her weight, bunching the blanket up under her knees. He looks around, having forgotten they’re outside, on a boat dock in a deserted campground. Fireflies have begun to zoom around as the sky turns to dusk and tree frogs begin their nightly sounds. “Do you see this, Em? It’s beautiful.”

She giggles, lifting her head up to look around, and back at him. “It is; we should fuck outside more often.” Her mirth rings out and she begins to slide off and on his cock.

Chris guides her, one hand on her hip, the other on her shoulder, pulling her into him. The sound of their skin slapping together and her whines each time he thrusts into her, expelling her breath, fills the night. As their lovemaking continues, he senses her frustration, knowing her so well. His knees are killing him on the hard, wooden surface, but neither of them are quitters. He slides his hand from her shoulder, grasping at her breast. Working his fingers under the dress neckline, he pulls down, exposing her, pinching and fondling the tight peak. He begins to whisper words of encouragement, his other hand sliding between her legs. Emery rocks back into him, spreading her legs, presenting her clit as he wraps his fingertips around the small bundle of nerves. Her whines grow, each being pushed from her body. “Fuck me, Evans,” she demands into the night.

He chuckles again. “So tense, Kitten. We got this. Relax, baby. Relax.”

Her slick pussy works his cock to perfection, holding him snug and he can feel his own climax building. She changes positions again and he smiles when her hand joins his, pressing over her hood as his hand swirls quickly around her clit.

He drops his other hand to the dock to support them as she begs him to go faster. He thrusts harder and deeper, tilting into her, hitting her soft walls, buried with each stroke. Giving as much as she’s taking, her body slows as her orgasm begins and she begs, “Don’t stop. Too perfect.”  

Pounding in and out, each stroke now takes him out of her body,  bouncing across her rim before sliding back in. Hard and fast. Strong and deep. The pulsing of her cunt around him is tight and her noises echo in his ears, bouncing from the trees and water. His unstoppable force rises, and he is helpless against its’ tide. Lost in her own orgasm, he joins her, the feeling so intense, his cries match hers. Filled with his seed, their lovemaking, she falls forward on the dock, holding his wrist and pulling him down with her. He collapses over her, careful not to drop his full weight. Her body still trembles under his as she falls back to reality. “Happy Birthday,” she sings out, light and airy.

He kisses the back of her neck, wondering if this is it. Did they just start a life? Thirty-seven and he still feels he’s failed, not being a father yet. Not giving her what she wants most; their child.

“You’re thinking too loudly. It would be a great birthday gift, no doubt, but don’t stress on it.” She lifts her shoulder and he rolls off. She turns to face him. “Shhh… Stop thinking,” she says as she caresses across his forehead. “It’s fuckin’ hot out here,” she states.

He rolls his eyes. “It’s a long walk to the shower house.”

“Are you suggesting we skinny-dip, dear husband?” She lifts her head, resting her chin on her palm. With her other hand, she begins to unbutton his shirt.

“Sounds like a good plan,” he agrees, reaching across to unzip her dress. “Another present to unwrap… More birthday sweets!”

Read more about Emery and Chris in their novella, Georgia on My Mind, and their story collections

Copyright © 2018 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved.

Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

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Private Dancer

private dancer june 5 2018.jpg

Private Dancer

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris has a late night encounter

Warnings: NSFW, public nudity, dom/sub tendencies, anal fingering, denied orgasm, talk of bondage

Word Count: 3884

July 2018

Head back against the wall,Chris slouches in the old metal chair, too tired and achy to move. He waves goodbye to the others, leaving for the night, and swipes his hand out to the side, hoping his grasp will reach the water bottle in the chair next to him.

“Go home, man, it’s enough for one day,” a voice calls out.

“Yea, yea, I know,” he guffaws, the tiredness seeped in his vocal chords. “I might run through it again.”

The bottle pressed to his lips, the water is cool as it runs down the back of his throat, refreshing. Just when he thinks he can’t take the heat, the air conditioning in the worn down building kicks on, causing the windows to rattle. He takes another swallow, running the back of his arm across his forehead, chilling his skin as the sweat collects in the hairs on his arms.

“Too fuckin’ old for this, Evans,” he mutters to himself.

He downs the rest of the water quickly, grunting in pain as he leans forward to untie his shoes. He lazily pulls one off and it clunks to the scuffed floors. The lights click off overhead and he calls out, “Hey! I’m still in here!”

Static screeches through the stereo system and a familiar guitar riff fills the room. A spot light shines down from above on a form in the center of the room, a curvy figure outlined in the shadows as her hips sway to the first beat. He bites back a smile as her heels click on the floor, executing a perfect spin before falling to her knees, crawling towards him. On the prowl, she keeps to the cadence of the song, a seductress he’s never seen before.

Her stance wide, hips sashaying from side to side, she taps the rhythm and stomps in perfect syncopation. A halo of curls swirl around her, a wave of red, blazing fire, hiding her face. Unable to see her expressions, he wants to watch her feet, the sound clear and crisp, in strict, guarded movements. But his eyes are drawn to the sweet jiggle of her ass in the high cut booty shorts and her strained nipples against the tight t-shirt, cut and knotted between her firm breasts. Her hands run over her body, wanting and needing, the music pulsing through her, creating a heated sexual energy in the room.

Every move is practiced and fluid, almost effortless. Yet even in the cold room, he can see sweat collecting on her lower back, at the waist of the form fitting shorts. She’s working hard, and has his attention. Resting back in the chair, he palms over his hardening cock, turned on by this show, just for him. His private dancer.

He aches to touch her. Realizing he can glimpse her backside in the mirror behind her, he enjoys fruitfully all the bouncing muscles rolling under the athletic strain of her performance. As she stomps, reaching forward gracefully, he wonders how he hadn’t noticed the cane on the floor before. The way she grips the core causes him to groan quietly, shifting uncomfortably now in his seat. His tired aches are forgotten as she crawls across the floor some more, sliding along on knee pads. With a final click of the long staff against the hardwood floor, the music ends as mysteriously as it began.

He jumps from his seat, in wild applause as she stays bowed before him, breathing heavily and slightly panting. Padding forward in his socks, he swoops his hand under her waist and swings her up to her feet. Still hidden under the mass of hair, he pushes it back from her face, her blue eyes shining bright. “Holy fuck, that was awesome! The sexiest thing I’ve ever-”

Her mouth closes over his, swallowing his words, a hard, forced kiss, teeth gnashing against teeth. His arms pull her tight, his body flush against hers. Heat. Adrenaline. Pure sex appeal. His hands roam over her lusty ass, down the backs of her thighs as he tries to get closer, to crawl into her as she pulls and tugs his plump lips between her teeth, her tongue diving into the far reaches of his mouth. Clawing at his hair, holding him close, her leg slides up his, wrapping behind his thigh, holding him even closer. His hard cock twitches, grinding against her barely clothed body.

With a satiated sigh, she pulls away, an almost shy smile creeping across her face. “Fuck, that was sexy,” she whispers.

Her throaty twang reaches to his dick, causing another jerk, pushing into her. Holding her ass closely, his hands creep under the fabric cupping her rounded cheeks. She’s so wet, already primed. He begins to lower his wife to the hardwood floor, ready to take her here and now.

“Evans, you aren’t doing me on the hardwood floor,” Emery laughs, fighting against him to remain standing.

He looks around quickly. “There’s dance mats.”

In a quick spin, she extricates herself from his hold, “There’s also three cameras from different angles filming the dance, and your reaction.”

He grabs her hand, spinning her close to him, sliding his hand from her knee up her thigh, gripping her waist as he thrusts against her. “This is my reaction.”

“I know; I saw,” she giggles. “Thank god you didn’t whip it out and keep stroking.”

Chris looks around, seeing for the first time the tiny red glow from a camera light. “Let’s just turn off the damn cameras?”

“How about we drag our achy, sore bodies to the hotel room I booked across the street?”

“You did not?” He incredulously intones.

“I did too,” she smiles wildly, gliding and tapping away from him, just out of his reach. She runs around, turning off the cameras and tucking them under her arms while he puts his street shoes on. “Shontae just said to lock up. She’ll be back in an hour or so to close up for the night.”

He takes the cameras from her hands, catching her fingers in his grasp and brushing his thumb over her sparkling wedding ring. “Shontae. She helped throw this together? I didn’t know you could still tap.” He remembers now pictures around her parents’ home of various dance recitals and years as a cheerleader. He chuckles as she lowers herself into the metal chair. “All the bruises, and aching muscles? That wasn’t from working out with Don at Drive495?” He’d hated knowing while he was running scripts and warming up for evenings on Broadway, that she was often getting in afternoon workouts with his pal, Sebastian Stan. He didn’t care she’d lost fifteen pounds, and enjoyed the routine. Jealousies run deep…

“Oh, no, I was still working out with Don and Seb,” she replies, running her hands down her sculpted abs, “but Shontea came into the city once a week to meet me at a studio, and she and another trainer worked with me to get this little surprise ready for you.” She lazily points to a bag in the corner while sliding off the knee pads. “Can you bring me my shoes? I’ll walk across the street dressed like a hooker, but I’m not ruining my taps.”

She hugs the heels to her chest and he chuckles, scooting his feet across the floor to get her bag. He groans, reaching to pick it up. Crossing the room again, he’s afraid he wouldn’t be able to pull his tired, pained body up out of the chair if he sits again, so he leans against the wall, watching her slide on a pair of athletic sandals. “How long you been working on this surprise?”

Her brow furrows, as she presses her hands to her thighs, pushing herself to stand up. She winces. From her bag, she pulls out a water bottle and aspirin, offering him some as well.

“Last fall? When you started dancing again? After some classes last fall in Atlanta, I realized my body could do it, so I came up with this crazy plan last December.” She tilts her head back, swallowing the little pills, massaging the nape of her neck. She raises her eyebrow. “The room has a giant jet tub…” Changing back to the subject of dance, she continues. “I thought it would be a fun surprise. Give me something to do while we were in New York…” her voice trails off as she places her hand in his.

He throws her bag over his shoulder, leading her to the door. Pulling it closed, he makes sure it locks and they slowly walk down the stairs to the street below, each hiding the muffled “ooffs” of muscle aches and pains. “Too damn old,” he whispers again.

“Speak for yourself, I’m in my prime,” she chuckles, nearly stumbling into him when he stops on the step.

“You just keep getting better with age,” Chris admits, throwing his arm around her neck as they step out of the building, onto the sidewalk. “You really do look like a hooker, very Julia Roberts, Pretty Woman.”

“Thanks,” she says, tucking into his side and looking down the walk for observers. With a quick kiss on his lips, she shakes out her hair, untamed and free. No cars coming, they jog across the road quickly. “This place is probably used to it,” she chuckles, pulling open the door to the older city hotel.

“Right? It would be my luck to get caught by a photographer right about now, though. Hidden on a back page in the Boston Herald… ‘Hometown Hero Up to Old Tricks.’” He laughs, following her through the lobby, just a step behind to watch her ass. The clerk nods, a blush reaching the younger man’s cheeks. Chris tries his best to hide his scowl. Jealousies run deep…

“Caught with hookers here before, honey?” She teases, shaking her head disapprovingly at him. Goosing her as they wait for the elevator to arrive, she turns away from him, shaking her head and pushing away his hands.

“Not hookers, but…” He decides it’s best to let the sentence trail of when she raises her eyebrow higher than he thought humanly possible.

When the box opens, he advances towards her and she gracefully steps back. It clicks in his head she’d been carrying herself well, proud and confident, for the last few months. Finally growing into the role as a celebrity icon herself. Working out and dancing had been good for her, primal and empowering. The doors close and he pushes her against the wall. Rolling her eyes, she reaches around him, and punches in the number for the top floor. With her back to the wall, his hands grip her waist, his thumb caressing over her exposed belly button. He delights in the catch of her breath, the tiny goosebumps that bubble across her skin. Looking down on her petite, svelte figure, he beams with pride. “What is this anyway?” he teases, his hands ghosting up her muscled form, tugging at the knotted fabric between her breasts.

Her eyes drop to his hands, and he fumbles momentarily before the fabric falls free, exposing her breasts. Keeping her blocked from any surveillance, his hands cup the heavy globes, squeezing the warm flesh, feeling her nipples pebble under the caress of his palms.

“You better fuck me good tonight, Evans,” she warns, her voice heavy and rich.

The door buzzes and opens. She tugs the fabric together, clutching it to her chest, barely covering herself and walks around him.

He covers his face in his hands, chuckling, running out of the elevator to follow her down the hall. “You say that like you’ve been disappointed lately-”

She turns to him, dropping her hands, the ripped t-shirt falling open, only covering one of her breasts as the other half falls to her side. “Let’s just say we’ve both been too tired, and focused on the wrong things.”

“Ouch,” he whispers seeing a quick blaze of anger behind her eyes. He steps in front of her, hoping to keep his prize from view on security cams.

From a pocket on her bag, she pulls out a room key and slides it over the keypad, gaining access to the room. Blocking the door, her hand snakes out and grabs his belt buckle. “When we step through this door, for tonight, I want all this boring, ‘married life,’ ‘day to day’ chat to stop. I just wanna fuck, and forget the world tonight.”

Her eyes darken and her features are harsh under the poor lighting. Red curls billow around her angel face and she’s so beautiful, his love for her grows a bit more. In his silence, entranced by her prowess, she has begun to loosen his belt, slowly pulling it from the loops.  Visions and memories flood his mind, and he profoundly hears her words. With a moment’s hesitation, he bows his head, making a fast decision, her song choice still rolling through his head. He places his hand firmly around her wrist, stopping the tug of his belt. “Then I’ll damn well take care of my Kitten, my bride, no complaints?”

Emery’s hands drop to her side. Her smile grows, understanding his unspoken words. “Don’t get too carried away. Remember to strip me before you tie me up with that thing.” She smirks. “Unlike last time,” she murmurs under her breath.

Already challenging his authority. He grins, choking back his sigh. She’s too damn hard headed to really play his games, but they have their own fun. A freedom he’d never had before. Love and trust. The true key to happiness. Feeling his need rise, an inner beast raging inside him, he can’t remember the last time they truly had time to play.

Reading his mind, she whispers, “No one else is on this floor tonight, and we have late check out tomorrow. Now cut the bullshit, Evans. It’s like you’re stalling,” she taunts.

Reaching his hand over her shoulder, his eyes grow dark in an instant as a memory of her tied up once before skates through his thoughts. His fist pushes the door open. He steps towards her and she doesn’t budge. Testing him. “In. Strip. Slowly.”

He watches her entire presence change. She softens, ready to have her needs met at his command. She dutifully turns, her hips swishing from side to side, dropping the cut t-shirt to the floor as she strolls in. Chris flicks on the light switch, and two dim lamps in the room react, setting a mood. She doesn’t turn to look at him as she slides out of her sandals, leaving them beside the bed. He swipes his phone screen, calling up some music, her dance song of choice filling the air. The little shorts barely cover her ass, having ridden up between her cheeks as they ran across from the studio. As he watches her roll the second-skin fabric over her hips and down her legs, he undresses quickly as well. He can see she’s already wet, the clothing having been pressed into her sex. Faint tan lines mark across her back from different pool outings with all their nieces and nephews and trips to Georgia, to the lake house. He tries not to laugh at her white ass, blindingly pale, compared to the light tan.

“I’m still more tan than you,” she says quietly.

“How the fuck do you do that?” He asks, walking up to her quietly and running his hand down her spine. Her shoulders quake as a shiver runs over her. “Know my thoughts?”

“Magic.”

“Oh, I’ll show you ‘magic,’” he replies. “Bend over.” His hand presses against her back as she complies. “Rest your palms on the bed…. Beautiful. So beautiful.”

Her deep breathing fills his ears, tuned into her, the music merely to keep outside sounds filtered. Looping the belt together, he drags the worn leather over her alabaster skin. He can hear her exhale, and he repeats the path before drawing it in circles over her canvas. In his mind’s eye he sees the outcome, splattering his cum all over her backside. Tonight is raw, animalistic… He pushes the thoughts of creating a baby from his mind, wanting to see his seed wasted instead. When your wife says she wants to get fucked, and hands over the reins, you can do what you want. Chris grins at the thought. Tonight’s gonna be fun.

Admiring her ass, her taut skin, her legs pressed together. A small bruise on the back of her thigh, probably from a fall during a dance rehearsal. He can’t believe she’d been practicing for months, and he hadn’t even known. He’d believed her tales, slipping on ice on the subway steps, bumping into a desk at work. Her sprained wrist had kept a brace on her hand for weeks. Dancing. She’d been dancing to surprise him. “What a woman,” he praises. He tilts his chin up. “Spread.”

Her breathing is controlled as she slides her right leg out, rebalancing and distributing her weight evenly between her feet. His cock twitches, hardening, lifting and bobbing against his belly. He groans. Shifting closer to her, he leans forward, pressing himself across the divide of her rounded ass. He rubs the head of his shaft over her, slowly hissing out his own pleasure, smearing her with his pre-cum. He settles himself between her legs, stroking back and forth. Arching over her back, his hands fall forward to play with her freely swinging breasts. “Unmph,” she moans, wiggling back into him. Pushing against her, playing with her tits, it’s barely all he can take to not explode before they even begin. Last week? We had sex sometime last week, right? He pinches her peaked buds as he positions himself to line up with her rim. Dropping one end of the belt, he wraps it around her waist, gathering it in one hand, fisting it against her lower back. Her pussy is hot and wet, inviting him in, soaking the tip of his hard cock. She sighs again. He bites his lip to keep from laughing at her annoyance, letting go of her breast to swat her ass. “I say when,” he reminds her.

When? Now? Why the hell wait?

Waiting’s fun, he reminds himself. He slows his breathing, remembering when sex was fun, before it became rushed, fitting it in their schedules, trying again to create life.

He glides his finger through her wet, bringing it back to caress over her puckered hole. Her weight sags forward, melting into the floor. Her weakness, never would have imagined playing with her ass would be her weakness. Pulling up on the belt, he perfects her stance as he pushes his finger, teasing her tight rim. The small squeak she vocalizes makes him smile, and he can picture the delight on her face. Smoothing over the shiny pink surface, he holds the belt tighter around her waist before stimulating her asshole again. “Breathe deep, Kitten,” he reminds her, knowing she’s holding her breath. Seeing her relax, he takes advantage and pushes in up to his knuckle, feeling her silky smooth wall hold him in firmly. When she relaxes more, he slides out and pushes in again, completing the same action with his cock into her waiting cunt, dripping and ready. “Fuuuck,” he whines. “You feel so good baby.”

She cries out, almost squirming away from him, and he holds still a moment while her body adjusts to the stuffed feeling. “Damn tight,” she moans. Not accepting him tonight, her body constricts, forcing his finger out. Leaning over her again, he reaches for her torn shirt, and wipes his hand clean. Her legs are already shaky and her arms, extended in front of her with only her palms on the bed, are twitchy. He can feel her exhaustion, knows it in her muscles from her performance. Sliding his hand under her wild mane of hair, he grips her neck, increasing the pounding behind his thrusts in and and out of her sopping pussy. The smell of sex fills the air and her sweet nectar runs down her legs, squishing out with each forceable propulsion.

“Don’t be mean,” she whispers.

For her defiance, he yanks up on the belt, slamming her to him, in balls deep and holding her neck tighter. Still afraid to admit she likes it rough, he ponders. The sound of their skin slapping together drives him to pump faster, and harder, but with no stimulation to her clit or breasts, she can continue to pant in heat. Her whines grow as the elusive orgasm pains her, her breaths quick and sharp. Her fingers grip the edge of the bed. Chris wonders if she’ll let go, if she’ll defy him further and reach to stimulate herself. He feels his own pressure building as her legs begin to quake. He walks them forward a few steps closer to the bed, dropping his hand from her neck to her shoulder, gently pushing her down to rest her forearms against the bed, tipping her ass up a bit higher. Directly hitting her spot with each ram, her cries grow louder, breathy whines and moans. “Beg,” he commands.

She shakes her head ‘no,’ slowly. “No use,” she groans. “You won’t let me come.”

He chuckles, the tightening low in his belly, and he leans into her, sucked down into her wet flower, gripping and squeezing around him. The first pulse of his cum shoots through him and paints her deep inside. “Shhh-it,” he hisses, dropping the belt to the floor and pulling out to spill all over her back, just as he’d fantasized. It’s in her hair, shot too high, she’ll hate that. Tugging and twisting over the swollen veins of his cock, he pumps faster, watching the ropes of thick white cum splatter her skin. A few drops fall to the floor, but not a big mess. As the pulses die out and he stills in his hand, her form sinks. “Just wait, Kitten. Let me get you cleaned up.”  She nods, but doesn’t speak.

Warming the wash cloth under the sink water, he reaches over and turns on the jet tub, filling it with hot water. Returning quickly to her side, he wipes up the mess, whispering praises for her performance, on the dance floor and as his submissive toy for the evening. He watches her struggle to hold back her words as he picks her up and carries her to the tub. Sinking down in the hot water, it’s like she unfreezes and her words tumble out. “I asked you to fuck me, no, I told you too. What the hell was that, Jellybean?”

Playfully dunking her under the water, he adjusts the knobs for the jets. She emerges, wiping water from her face, spluttering.

“That was us, just getting started tonight, Kitten. I’m nowhere near finished with you yet. We have lots of lost time we need to make up for. I’m gonna call down to the front desk in the morning. We might just hide up here for the rest of the week, no cares, no responsibilities. All the fucking you want and need.”

Climbing over him as he settles into the water, she grips his cock in her hand, not even attempting to be gentle and says, “Sounds like the perfect summer plan to me!”

Read more about Emery and Chris in their novella, Georgia on My Mind, and their story collections

Author’s Note: Inspired by this AMAZING video, choreographed by Chloe Arnold, featuring the Syncopated Ladies. Emery could handle MOST of the routine, stopping at 1:57…

Copyright © 2018  avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

Late Night

Late Night april 25

Late Night

an Emery&Chris fan fic

By avenger-nerd-mom

Emery sits in with Chris during his promotional appearance on the Seth Meyers’ show

Warnings: None, fluff, language

Word Count: 1834

April 2018

“Chris, really? You should know this!’

He chuckles, even his laugh sounding like Boston, and she giggles, her feet bouncing nervously, watching him squirm in his seat.  He tosses his hand up in the air. “No. I try to forget some other guy before me had his tongue in your mouth.” He looks, around distressed, as she dissolves into more laughter. “Can I say that on national television? Did that sound dirty?’  He looks to the audience sheepishly.

“It wasn’t just one,” she mumbles under her breath. Louder, she turns to their host, “Seth, don’t give him my answer yet. Ask me. There’s a prize involved, right?”

“What? A prize? What kind of late night show do you think this is?!” He looks around his desk. “Um, you can have this cool mug?”

“Deal.” Emery nods emphatically. “Is it the same question? ‘Cause I know his first kiss was Maggie Sullivan.” She hits him in the arm. “Show your card.”

He rubs his arm. “Ow, you hit hard. Seth, tell her ‘no hitting.’” He turns his card over and taps it against his leg. “Poor Maggie Sullivan, if she’s watching this…”

Seth shakes his finger at the little red head. “Well done, and it doesn’t bother you to know that?”

She tilts her head, looking to Seth. “No,I won.  I’m the one married to Captain Frickin America. I mean look at him.  He’s so handsome- ‘ She swirls her hands around in front of Chris’s face. “Caterpillar and all…”

He leans back against the seat, “I can’t wait to shave it,” he laughs, rubbing his hand over the questionable facial hair.  “Shit! ” He covers his mouth, with a surprised expression, embarrassed he cursed on television. “Sorry- it was David, wasn’t it?  He was your first kiss?” She happily flips over her card, showing the name of her high school sweetheart. “You danced with him at our wedding! I knew I hated that guy!”

Emery chuckles and pats his leg. “It’s okay, honey. You know we’re just old family friends. You have nothing to worry about.”

Seth makes a funny face to the crowd and the audience laughs. “Yea…” he stretches the word out. “You are Captain Frickin’ America. I think you’re pretty safe, dude.”  

late night 6

Chris mumbles, “I hope, man, I hope.”

Seth laughs, “Ok, next question- Chris, what’s Emery’s favorite movie that’s not Marvel?”

The famous actor looks to his wife, raising an eyebrow. “Wait? Is this a trick question? Seth, are we talking all time favorite, science fiction or holiday?

Emery leans over and covers the microphone on the desk and consults privately with the host. After a brief moment, he turns to Chris and announces. “All time favorite…”

Screwing up his face in thought, his mustache wiggles on his lip.

late night 5

“Oh god, I know it’s an 80s movie,  with that redhead. Crap, what is it? Sixteen Candles!”

Emery’s cheeks turn a shade of red under the bright lights. She holds up the card, ‘Pretty in Pink.’  “That redhead? You worked with Molly once!” She reminds him. “Remember,  we cancelled brunch just the other day because it was on TV and I didn’t wanna leave till the end?”

Leaning in close to her, Chris chuckles. “I thought we stayed home because it was raining, and that’s why we ordered in Chinese?”

Emery hides her laughter behind her card, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Ok, Emery, this one is for you.  What is Chris’s favorite Disney movie?”

Her smile freezes on her face. Shit. It could be anything. The wheels begin to turn, and he jumps in. “This could be any number of- this was a tough,” he waves his hand, “it was a tough call.”

Emery tugs on the end of her pony tail and drops it to her chest when she settles on an answer. “Well, his favorite old-school Disney movie would have to be Robin Hood-”

“Show it to us, you don’t have to go on. That was amazing.” Turning to the audience, Seth teases, “Why do I feel like I’m causing marital discourse between them?” Turning to the couple, he leans in.  “Please don’t send me any therapy bills resulting from this…” He looks at the next question on his card. “What’s Emery’s favorite sweet indulgence?

His face lights up. “Besides me? Oh I got this. Milky Way, I bring them home from the corner shop all the time.”

“Man, do you even know me? You always end up eating those! My favorite candy bar is Heath.” She flips the card over and bops him on the head.

Intervening, Seth holds out his hand. “Chris, have you met this lovely woman sitting by your side? Her name is Emery. She likes 80s teen movies and toffee covered in chocolate.”

Chris shifts in his seat and reaches out for her hand. Shaking it, he introduces himself and says, “Hi. I’m Chris. I’m a dork. I’m in movies, but not porn, as the ‘stache might imply, and I like Starburst jelly beans, and long walks on the beach.”

emery NYC 3

She throws her head back in laughter. “You hate the beach.”

He turns to the audience, nodding. “She’s right. I do.” Turning to the host, he says, “This game is awful. I feel like a chimp could do better at this than I am!”

Seth looks at his watch, “Well, man, it’s only an hour show, so we don’t have time for a counseling session, but I think you need to talk to your wife more, and listen.”  He taps the cards on the table. “We’ve got time for one last question. Chris,” he nods to the actor. “What’s the one thing you do that annoys her the most?”

Chris rocks forward, laughing and shaking his head. Straightening out his pants leg, he says, “Seth, you obviously don’t know me very well. One thing? Listen here. This woman is perfect. She cooks, cleans, does craft projects, exercises, volunteers with kids and has a full time job. And she puts up with me, and deals with the fans, and press. There’s so many things about me that annoy her,” he chuckles. He quits fidgeting with the cards in his lap and reaches for her hand. Looking in her eyes, he says, “I’m just so thankful every day she puts up with me, and I have no frickin’ idea what is my most annoying habit to her.”

She squeezes his hand, silently encouraging him to remember their conversation just before leaving the apartment that morning. She purses her lips, willing him to remember.

“Oh, man!” He exclaims. “I know! She really hates it when I take things out of the dryer and just kinda dump them on the floor instead of folding them, or hanging them up.”

The look on his face is pure pride, when she turns her card over and throws her arm around his neck, kissing his check. “I hate that!” she whispers.

Seth applauds and says over the crowd’s laughter, “He does that? You do deserve some kind of prize for being married to him! If I did that, my wife would kick my-”

“Oh, she does, she does… then she yells at me to go clean it up.”

She nods. “He’s getting better. It’s a twelve step program,” she giggles. “A slow process.”

“Well, Chris, you have a lovely bride, and a wonderful movie coming out later this week, and congratulations on your Broadway debut.” Turning to the cameras, Seth turns it out to a commercial break.

In a rush, crew members come over to unhook their mikes and Seth stands to give Emery a kiss on the cheek. “Again, Seth, congratulations on the birth of your new baby! Thank you for showing me pictures!”

“Thank you for the lovely gift, you didn’t have to do that,” Seth says, reaching out to shake Chris’s hand. “Really, man, the play is great.” He nods. “Best of luck.”

A crew member begins to lead her away, and she waves to the audience as Chris and Seth chat for a few minutes. She watches from the sidelines as the configuration on the stage changes slightly, and one of the Marvel assistants comes to lead her away.

Back stage are a few fans, waiting to meet Chris, and she stops to talk to them. She kneels down next to a young girl dressed as Suri. “Miss Emery!” The young girl sighs. “You’re so beautiful. You came and taught at my school last week, and I got an A on my test.” She holds up the paper to show her achievement, and Emery gives her a high five.

“That’s amazing! Wow, you did great and used that fraction trick, didn’t you?” Emery smiles. When Chris comes up behind her, he places his hand on the small of her back. She turns to him and shows him the math paper. “Chris, this is my friend, Lashaya,” she says, reading from the test, “and she was in my class and got an A.”

He squats down next to the girl, and an assistant places a small bag at his feet. “Lashaya, that’s pretty amazing. I’m really proud of you.” He smiles up to Emery and winks. “She’s a great teacher, but what’s even better is, you remembered what she taught you and now you can help your friends, cause that’s important right?”

She nods and smiles at the photos her mother is taking. He reaches in the bag, and hands the girl a signed Funko Pop and poses for a selfie before moving on to talk to other people waiting for him. Emery stands back and watches, not a part of the limelight, when the girl’s mother asks for a photo of her as well. “Please, Miss Emery? My daughter has never done good in school before, but you really helped her. She works so hard now, and I thank you for that.”

Emery chokes on her tears, and catches Chris watching her. He winks as she bends down to take a photo with the child. “You tag me in that, alright? I wanna make sure I see it! You hang that test on the fridge and earn more like it, okay?”

“Okay,” Lashaya says before her mother leads her away.

Another Marvel handler comes to her, and suggests they go on down to the car. In the quiet hallway behind the stage, the young man says, “That was really cool. I’ve never thought about it, but you’re kind of a superhero, too, Mrs. Evans. Teaching kids all day, especially math, must be hard. That was pretty amazing!”

Chris’s voice echoes down the hall, rushing to join them. “Damn right, my wife’s a superhero! And I’m taking her to dinner!  Where you wanna go, baby? Seth’s right. It’s been a while since we’ve had time to just sit and talk.”

“Just you, me and the mustache? Ok,” she laughs, looping her arm through his as they walk out to the car.

Read more about Emery and Chris in their novella, Georgia on My Mind, and their story collections

Copyright © 2018  avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

Auntie Em

auntie em april 15 2018

Auntie Em

*an Emery & Chris drabble*

By avenger-nerd-mom

Emery pitches in to help her sister-in-law, Carly, when the kids are sick and Carly has plans. Her tutoring with his nephew goes slightly awry.

Warnings: None, Fluff

Word Count: 2141

To find out more about Emery and her life with Chris, begin with their novella, Georgia on My Mind, and follow up with their stories!

His voice is quiet, and she strains to hear him. “When are you coming home, baby? I miss you.”

Emery smiles. “I’ve only been gone two days; I’ll be home Monday.”

“I know, but it feels like it’s been fooor-eveeer.” He whines and stretches the word out.

She wraps her arm around the sleeping little one in her lap. “Good grief, listen to you, moaning like I’ve been gone for months.” She smiles at the other two boys, stretched out on the floor, coloring and playing with race cars.

Chris drops his voice and it vibrates through the phone. “I need you here to make me moan.”

“Oh stop,” she giggles. “Stella’s asleep in my lap.”

“Is she feeling any better?” Her heart flutters at the tender sound of his voice, so full of concern for his niece.

She nods, even though he can’t see her. She gently strokes the little girl’s hair back, checking for signs of a fever. “I think the fever broke a few hours ago. She was running around here with the boys just a bit a go, before she had another coughing fit. They felt so bad for her, they let her watch Frozen without whining.”

“It’s nice to have family close, when you have an emergency,” he hints. “Have you heard from Carly?”

“She’s been checking in every few hours. She can’t be enjoying their romantic get away if she’s worried about a sick kid.” Emery shifts on the love seat, her arm starting to fall asleep under the weight of the sleeping child. “I’ve got it under control. We went to Ethan’s piano lesson this morning, and Miles and I have been studying for his math test. We’ve had a good visit.”

“You sound tired,” he sighs. “Three will do that, but-”

“Which is why, Evans, we’re only having two-”

“I’m not stopping till we have a little girl, with fiery red hair like her mother,” he states.

“You really want two of us in the house?” She smiles. She sighs happily. More of their discussions have turned to family lately, with the Marvel end in sight. She’ll be sad when it’s time to see him hang up the shield, but with his success on Broadway, she looks forward to different opportunities.

“No, I want three of you. Two little girls, just like their mama, and a little boy?” He adds with a question.

At that moment, Miles lifts his head and turns to her and smiles. His boyish grin is so much like his uncle’s, she can’t help but giggle. “Okay, maybe you can twist my arm for three, but no more than that,” she acquiesces.

“It’s not about twisting your arm, kitten, you like it when I twist your-”

“Chris! Shh!” She blushes, quietting him as Miles crawls into her lap.

He holds out his little hand. “Auntie Em, can I talk to Uncle Chris?”

She hands him the phone, holding him close to her side and listening to him chatter with his uncle. Maybe three isn’t a bad number…

***

Standing at the sink, the two women pass the plates off to one another as they wash and dry, leaving things on the counter for the men to put away later.

“Really, Em, you didn’t have to have dinner waiting for us,” Carly repeats, running the cloth around the glass rim to dry it.

Emery feels around in the soapy water. Finding the sink empty, she looks to the counter behind her. “It was no trouble. I miss getting to cook for people. We’ve mostly been eating take out,” she explains. “I think that’s it. Anything else to wash?”

Carly looks around as well, and shakes her head. “Except for the plate with the cheesecake Scott took to the living room, and he can wash that himself.”

Emery nods and releases the plug from the sink, shaking the soap suds from her hands before rinsing them clean. She grabs a dry towel and wipes her hands before beginning to put the plates away in the cabinet.

Carly finishes with the last coffee cup and throws her towel on the counter. “Stop. The boys said they’d do it; leave it.”  She takes a step or two away and clicks the coffee pot on. “Another cup?”

Nodding, Emery continues to put away the plates, ignoring Carly’s glare. “I’m the oldest sister too. That look has no effect on me,” she announces.

With the Evans grin, Carly chuckles and reaches into the fridge for the creamer, setting out her coffee items on the counter. “Thanks again for coming down to watch the kids. I hope it didn’t change your plans.”

Emery waves it off. “Nothing more important than family. With Mom and Shanna both busy, I’m glad I could help out.”

“Not a lot of family close by if you’re in LA,” Carly suggests, taking the pot from it’s stand and pouring two cups.

“Gee, you’re not subtle or anything,” Emery giggles, reaching for her cup and adding a splash of the vanilla creamer.  She grabs two sugar packets and walks to the table. Knowing how the family grapevine works, she decides not to mention Tara is on the search for the perfect family home for them nearby.  After several long discussions, she’d made it clear she wanted them to have their own home in Boston, not one he’d previously shared with girlfriends. Chris had been open to her idea of finding something a little rough around the edges, so they could add their own touches to the home, and truly make it theirs.

Carrying over the plate of cookies, Carly sits in the chair across from her sister-in-law. “We’d love to have you both close. I know you like staying in Savannah, but home for him is here.”

“Carly,” Emery says sternly, “Home for us is wherever the other one is… It’s not a city or a dwelling. It’s here.” She rests her left hand over her heart, the kitchen lighting making her wedding ring gleam. “I know you want us here, but my family feels the same, Carly. Chris and I have to make decisions right for us.”

Carly passes her spoon to Emery, to stir the sugar into her cup. “I know, I didn’t mean… I was just making conversation,” she sheepishly says. “It’s fun you’ve been so close the last few months. It was nice to see you guys at Easter, and for us to have a good excuse to go to New York.”

Emery tilts her head. “It has been nice, and I look forward to coming back in a few weeks to do the training for your school district.”

“What’s his plan after the play ends? It’s been really strange to watch the promo tour stuff, and he’s not a part of it.”

Emery rests back in her seat. “Yea, I hate that too. It doesn’t seem right.” She shrugs. “After the play? I don’t think we have a lot of plans. I’ve only got three workshops scheduled for the summer. I’d like to spend time at the lake house with my family some, get to know Parker’s fiancee a bit better…”

The women chat well into the night, keeping clear of touchy subjects such as children and moving. Whenever Carly tries to push a topic Emery wants to avoid, she tactfully finds a way to shut her down. Eventually she realizes the time, and dismisses herself to bed, with the excuse of an early morning flight.

Carly wanders into the living room as Emery takes the stairs to the second level of the home. She drags her hands slowly over the photos that line the hall. At the top of the steps, she turns and looks down, smiling at the pile of shoes and backpacks by the front door. Scott steps into her line of sight, and waves goodbye, blowing her a kiss before quietly leaving the house. She turns and walks down the hallway, stopping to check in on the boys, fast asleep in their beds.

under the dome GIF-downsized_large.gif

In Stella’s room, the little girl clutches a bear to her chest, her thumb in her mouth.  Emery walks in quietly, the light from the closet adding a glow to the room. She pulls the little girls thumb out, tucking the little hand under the girl’s chin instead, pulling the blankets up higher to tuck her in. The tiny cherub sighs peacefully and Emery bends to kiss the top of her head.

Reaching the guest room, she yawns and pulls back the blankets before sitting down to take off her shoes. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she sends a quick message. “I miss you. I’m ready to come home. See you tomorrow.”

The red-head waits a few moments to see if a response will come. With no answer, she rises from the bed, and enters the bath to get ready for a fitful night’s sleep.

***

Wednesday afternoon, she waits on the small couch, still giggling from the text from Carly. She listens to the applause and waits for Chris to come back stage. An image of ‘Bill,’ his character in the play enters her mind.  The crisp blue uniform… The silly moustache… She gets the giggles again and can’t wait to show him the picture. He was crabby before the show, but she knows this will put him in better spirits. That and the box of pizza from John’s, sitting on the coffee table.

“Hey, Emery,” Brian calls out as he walks past the room, not stopping to talk.

“I got pizza!” She yells back.

She smiles when his head pops back in the door. “You’re a saint, a goddess among mere mortals.” He looks down the hall, and nods his head before looking back to her. “You have to be for putting up with this guy.” Brian Tyree Henry claps his large hand on Chris’s shoulder. “You found a good one, man.”

Chris smiles, dropping the officer hat from his costume into the chair and running his hands through his hair. “I’m just lucky she puts up with me,” Chris agrees.

“And I bring pizza,” she smiles, opening the box to the two men.

zooey deschanel hunt GIF-downsized_large.gif

“And she brings pizza,” Chris chuckles, leaning over the food to kiss his beautiful wife. He reaches down for a slice and takes a bite, chewing slowly. He sighs. “Pure heaven. If I could just have a beer, it would be damn near perfect.” He collapses on the couch next to her.

“No beer!” Someone calls out as they walk down the hall.

“Damn that promise I made,” he grumbles, taking another bite.

Bryan reaches for a slice and tilts it to Emery. “Thanks, Em, babe. But I really can’t stay. I’m meeting some friends for an actual dinner before we gotta be back for the night show.”

She nods, scratching her hands over Chris’s back absently as he scarfs down a second slice.  “Brunch Friday?”

He nods and mumbles his agreement behind his hand, chewing his food before excusing himself.

“Kitten, I gotta get changed. People are out on the sidewalk and-”

“Chris, I know. I know the routine by now. It’s good. I just knew you’d be hungry,” She shrugs. “Before you go, I want you to see the picture Carly sent me. It’s from Miles’ geometry test he took yesterday.”

Chris cocks his eyebrow, his expression curious as Emery opens her phone and turns the image to him.

“It’s his test paper? I don’t get it?”

“Chris! Look at what he drew!” Emery laughs, pushing the phone closer to him.

Chris begins to laugh. “What the hell?” His laughter is infectious and Emery loses it again. The more he looks at the test page, the more he laughs, to the point of wheezing and clapping his hand over his left pec.

carly text fake.PNG

“Oh, shit! That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen. Text her back and tell her I have never been more proud of my nephew than I am right now! Please tell me he passed?” He laughs again and slaps his knee, rocking back to then wipe an actual tear from his eye.

She pushes on his back, shoving him off the couch. “Go, get changed. They’ll be here to take you out to sign any minute,” she giggles, glad she was able to cheer him up.

He rises, bending to kiss the top of her head. “You just made my day. That was better than the pizza, maybe even better than the sex this morning.”

“Watch it, Mister. Those are fighting words,” Emery laughs, slapping his ass as he walks away. She looks at her phone again and shakes her head in another fit of laughter.  She’ll have to make sure to include drawing lessons in her geometry tutorials next time, to ensure her younger students can draw a proper cylinder.

**Thanks to my IRL for sharing this actual test paper with me this week! As soon as I saw it, I knew it was an ‘Emery story!’

Images found on Pinterest

Text created using ifakemessage.com

Copyright © 2018  avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

Wet Sand

 

GIFMaker.org_F2TTN8.gif

Wet Sand

a Tom Hiddleston drabble

by avenger-nerd-mom

Word Count 676

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Nudity

Tom and his new secret love enjoy an evening walk on the beach…

April 2017

Walking along the shore, Tom and his lovely fair-haired companion gaze out over the horizon, watching the birds dip and swoop for their evening meal.  Tom carries his shoes and wonders if she left hers on the terrace after dinner. Her long flowing dress trails in the water and the blue and purple swirls of fabric at her tiny feet remind him of a mermaid.  “Isn’t that the dress you bought in Milan a few weeks ago? It’s quite lovely,” he compliments.

She side-eyes him, bumping her elbow into his arm.  “Are you afraid I’m ruining it in the water?”

He chuckles quietly.  “Well… far be it from me to tell you what to do; it’s your vacation home- but yes, won’t the water cause damage?  It was rather expensive, as I recall.”

Stepping ahead, she turns on her heels to face him.  Gathering the fabric up to her hips, she kicks and splashes him playfully.   With his long legs, he kicks back and water and sand spot across the front of her dress.  “So sorry! I was only-” Tom begins his famous apologies before she cuts him off.

“Ruined now.  It’s ruined.” Reaching up, she feels the globs of sand on top of her head.  “And sand in my hair?” She tsk-tsks, looking down at her chest, the wet sand clinging to the tanned globes peeking out from the deep v-neck cut of the summer gown.  “Well, that’s that, I guess.” Her eyes locked on his, she pulls the dress over her head, revealing herself to be totally nude under the flimsy gauzy fabric. She tosses the dress to him and backs slowly into the water.  “You’ve made me dirty, Tom.  That wasn’t very nice.”

Dropping his eyes, he looks away, embarrassed not by her natural display but by the instant need it creates in him.  Hearing a splash as she twists and dives away, he turns with a smile to watch her swim from the shore.

“Aren’t you worried the ships on the horizon have paparazzi with telephoto lens?” He asks, thinking back to another time he once played on the beach with a woman and how it did not end well.

“It wouldn’t be the first time my breasts have graced the tabloids, dear,” she mocks before diving under again, her sweet little ass rising above the water’s surface before disappearing.  Springing up, she pushes the wet hair back from her face. “Are you too afraid to have your cock on display? It’s very beautiful… You should strip down and join me. The water’s perfect.”

“And have the press finally catch us together, as a couple?”  He asks, wondering if this might truly be her plan.

She giggles, swirling in dizzying circles, creating her own current around her.  It reminds him of their life together, always spinning in circles, waiting for one wave to crash into the other.

“I’m your fashion designer, Tom.  They already caught me with my hands down your pants a few weeks ago. Purely of a business nature, of course.”   She winks. “What’s the point of keeping it secret any longer?”

“Darling, I’m more than happy to step out in the press with you, if that’s what you want; if you think we’re ready, but…” he shields his eyes from the setting sun, again eyeing the ships with wary. “Dropping my trousers in daylight to skinny dip with you isn’t what I had in mind.”

“Oh, really.  Then tell me, Mr. Hiddleston.  What do you have in mind?” She asks, her voice throaty and full of lust and desire.

Clutching the designer dress tighter in his hands, he begins to slowly back away.  “I think I’d rather steal your clothes and watch you run along the path, naked, back up to the cottage.”

“TOM!  You wouldn’t!” Thrashing through the water, she tries to reach him, but she’s too late, as she watches him sprint down the shore to the path leading to her secluded beach home.  “That British fucker,” she complains, taking off after him, water dripping down her shapely body.

Copyright © 2018  avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Hero In-Laws

hero inlaws.jpg

Hero In-Laws

An Emery&Chris story

By avenger-nerd-mom

Scott Evans makes a visit to see Chris and Emery in NYC in early March 2018, for Lobby Hero

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1287

Click here to follow the tale of Emery and Chris!

Scott throws himself around the little powerhouse when the apartment door flies open. “Oh, Sis! I’ve missed you so much,” he declares, picking Emery up and spinning her around. He sets her back down and she wobbles from dizziness. “Shit, I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.” He eyes her belly warily.

“Oh, stop!” She hits his arm. “We’re still trying. Lots of fun trying, actually,” Emery laughs, closing the apartment door. “He told you, right? All the tests came back normal, for both of us. So relax.”

Scott gently kisses her check. “You look beautiful. Winter cold suits you,” he says, setting his bag down by the entry table before following her into the larger open space. “Holy shit, look at that view.”

Her gaze follows his. She’ll never get tired of looking at the skyline, despite the cold gray look of the city this time of year. “I hate the cold… But New York is an interesting place; I kinda like it.” The Southern belle smiles, sitting on the cream colored couch facing the large wall of windows. “I feel like it’s so foreign though, like everyone moves and talks so fast. And they ask me to repeat myself. I think people think I’m slow,” she giggles. “My Southern drawl; it’s like they expect me to pull out a redneck joke or something.”

Scott chuckles and sits down on the couch near her. “You liking work?”

She nods. “I’ve been training with some of the magnet schools.  They’re using some of their funding for a STEM project to replicate some of the ‘discoveries’ of Wakanda.” She chuckles. “Chadwick’s been too busy right now to get back to me, but I’m hoping before we leave the city, he could come by and meet some of the kids and teachers.”

“Gawd, did you see it? Amazing, right?” He continues to stare out the front window.

“Of course! Opening day. Wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Incredible… And now they’ve moved up the IW date?”

“Still a fangirl, huh?” Scott chuckles. He leans forward to take off his shoes. “You’re not sick of it by now?”

Emery rolls her head to the side, surveying the room in front of her. The rented furniture is exquisite and luxurious. Not something she ever thought she’d have chosen, but it works for the space and feels right. Although they’ve spent a lot of time ‘hiding’ at home during the few weeks in the city, she hasn’t felt lonely or secluded. She and Chris both have many friends in the area, and it seems someone is always stopping by, as is evident from the stack of games laying on the glass coffee table in front of her. She’s looking forward to Anna and Tom visiting soon, to see the play. She loves competitive game night with the charming couple!

“I still feel like Cinderella, sometimes. Like the clock is gonna strike and it will all disappear, or the fairy godmother’s spell will end, and he’ll realize I’m just a silly little teacher from Georgia. But being a fangirl got me here.” She sits up and closes the lid to one of the games before standing. “I don’t geek out over every little thing anymore, but the perks of being Captain America’s wife are nice sometimes.”

She motions for him to follow her to the kitchen. Without even asking, she pulls over the cake pan, lifting the cover off a lovely three-tiered cake. Scott mimics cutting a big slice and walks to the fridge, reaching inside for the carton of milk. They make small talk, Scott catching up with gossip of her family and he fills her in the news of the Evans clan. She opens a cabinet and grabs two plates down from the shelf.

“One of your cake creations?” He asks, sticking his finger in the glob of cake frosting that landed on the counter.

Emery nods, dropping the knife down through the layers of chocolate confections. “Can’t you tell from the size of my hips?”

Scott steps back, admiring the beautiful woman. “Eh, doesn’t turn me on, but, whatever…” He laughs. “Em, you look great.”

She points the knife towards him. “You’re lying, but thanks.”

Scott runs his hands over his scruff. “Bullshit. I can still appreciate a beautiful woman when I see one. You had a miscarriage, you ate some food,” He shakes his head when she whispers, “lots of it,” under her breath. “But you look amazing. Fifteen extra pounds won’t kill you.”

“Bless you for thinking that’s all it is…” She places a much smaller piece on the plate in front of her.  She sighs. “I like being close to the park. I’ve been running in the mornings. I have to block out episodes of Law and Order from my mind when I do it, but still…” She chimes in as Scott hums the theme credits. “I’ve never liked running before. The pace of the city at that time of day is so hyped, I’ve never felt anything like it. It’s like a drug.”

“It’s like you expect to see Carrie or Miranda around every corner; yeah. I get that,” Scott laughs, catching the crumbs from the cake as they fall from his mouth and licking them from his palm.

“Right? By the way, that is so gross… I’m in love with New York. I can’t believe I’m saying that, but it’s true. I really want the play to go well for him, Scott. I’ve been a nervous wreck all week. He’s so amazing. Like there is no Chris in it at all… Until he cracked a grin as the cast took their final bow, he was a different person.”

“It’s called ‘acting,’” Scott laughs. “It’s what you do when you are raised in the ‘theatre.’”
He mimics a pompous voice. “I don’t know how he can keep a straight face with that… that thing on his face.”

“Oh, gawd, it’s awful, isn’t it?! Like a fuzzy caterpillar… I’m still getting used to it.”

Scott reaches for his phone in his back pocket, licking some more chocolate frosting from his thumb. He swipes over the phone screen, bringing it to life and opening one of his social media accounts, turning the photo for her to see. “Total ‘70s porn ‘stache,” Scott grins. “I had a boyfriend once with-”

“Stop. Stop. For the love of God, Scott, stop.” Emery covers her face, wishing her brother-in-law hadn’t put those visuals in her head.

He shrugs, moving to carry his plate to the living room.

“Oh, no. Do you see the color of that furniture? No food in there. That was our deal. Chris and I agreed it was the one time in our lives we can have white furniture.”

“God, you’re bossy. You’ll make a great mom.” He moves to the kitchen table instead.

“Scott, really. I can’t get used to it. I mean, he was ‘Frank Adler’ when we met. So when he had to be Steve, that was weird. Then the long hair and beard this summer…” She takes another bite, shaking her head.  “The other morning, I held my hand over his upper lip when I kissed him. It’s just so ‘skitchy.’” She grins at the family word her nieces use to describe the texture of scruffy beards. “I don’t wike it.”

“You love it,” he teases, eyeing her sideways.

“I love him… the new look? I’ll get used to it,” she sighs.

Scott points to the TV. “It’s very Jack Pearson.” He looks at her with a hope in his eyes. “Ya know, I haven’t watched this week. Wanna catch up?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Emery grins, high-fiving him and squeezing his hand in hers.

Cover photo images found on Pinterest, using Layout and Phonto for cover creation

Copyright © 2018  avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

Vacation Time

Vacation Time december 23 2017

Vacation Time

An Emery&Chris story

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris and Emery continue their weekend getaway weekend in the secluded cabin in the Blue Ridge mountains.  A competitive game reveals a little secret, and the couple receive a holiday surprise.

Warnings: real life, fluff, language

Word Count: 2321

Images found on Pinterest. Sources unknown.

Click here for part one of this story…

December 2017

Shyly, Emery turns from the hot stove, handing her sleepy-eyed husband a plate of Southwest eggs, hashbrowns, and a steaming cup of coffee.

“Bacon will be ready in a minute,” she appeases, nibbling a bite of her toast.

“What’s all this for?” he asks.  “You don’t usually fix all my favorites at once; you always say it’s a heart attack on a plate.”  Sprinkling pepper over the whole meal, he jokes, “Are you trying to kill me?”

She giggles, carrying her plate, with the served up bacon, to the table.  “It’s an apology,” she says, tucking her leg under her bottom as she sits in the wobbly chair.  “I was kind of a  bitch the last few days.”

Chris opens his mouth to replay and promptly snaps it shut, hiding his smile behind his large hand.  He clears his throat, holding back his laughter.  “Really?  I hadn’t noticed.”

She chuckles, mixing together her scrambled eggs with the potatoes, reaching for the tabasco sauce.  “It’s my hormones.  They’re still crazy, but getting better.”

He nods, reaching over to pat her hand.  Losing their baby last spring had been difficult on both of them, in more ways than one.  They had gone to therapy together to work through their pain.  As a couple, they had decided to be more careful, to wait till there was a more definitive end in sight for studio connections related to Cap.  Chris rubs his thumb over the back of her small hand, before pulling back and picking up his fork, his mind still wandering, not really knowing what to say.  He lifts the forkful of eggs to his mouth, chewing in silence.  Leaving for ten weeks to South Africa during the summer had been trying, to say the least.  In his absence, Emery had hid her sorrows in a buckets of ice cream and fast food, eating comfort foods as she traveled and gave school trainings, gaining a little extra weight.  She hates it, but he likes the added curves.

“Hey,” he blurts out, shocking them both from their contemplative morning.  His own look of surprise makes her giggle.  “Did you pack our hiking boots?  It’s nice out.  Why don’t we take that path we looked at the other day, before it gets too cold.”

He cringes inwardly, hoping she doesn’t take it as a slam against her weight, but her face brightens.  “I love that idea, jelly bean.  They’re in the back of the truck.”

The young couple finish their breakfast, making plans to pack for the hike and the easy comfort returns between the two.

***

Carrying the firewood in, Chris laughs as she loads everything into the new pressure cooker she’s been raving about for weeks.  “Don’t let my mother see you do that; it’s not real Italian if it doesn’t simmer for hours and splatter gravy on the cabinets.”

“She gave me the recipe,” Emery laughs, sticking her tongue out at him.  “It just makes everything easier.  Why do you think I brought it along for the weekend?”

Tightening the lid, she punches a code on the space age front and reaches for two beer from the fridge.  She nods to him, “Unless you want something warm?”

He arranges the logs carefully, stoking the burning embers to rebuild the blaze.  He shakes his head.  “Nah, that’s fine.  Bring over one of the Jiffypop pans.”

Emery opens the well-stocked pantry and grabs two pans.  She stiffles a laugh and tucks something under her arm, walking over to the coffee table.  Shoving the Potter book out of the way, she sets down the beers before placing the box on the table and handing him the pans.  

“What’s that?” he asks, peeling off the cardboard label on the foiled pan.

“Scrabble.  Sexy scrabble?” She laughs, opening the box and dumping the tiles on the table, many falling to the floor.

“You mean like in that story you were reading a few months ago?”

“Yea,” she blushes.  “I thought it was funny,” Emery giggles, taking a sip from her beer and creating a pile of pillows by the couch.

He shakes his head, reaching for a pillow, and resting it against the hearth, the fire at his back.  “Can’t believe you still read that crap…” he mumbles, looking over his shoulder to the flames, jostling the popping kernels.

“Actually, those two authors are published and-”

“Dammit, I knew something was up!” He pumps his fist in the air and his face lights up.  “I remember that story.”  He pulls the handle of the pan from the fire and drops it on the stones, letting it cool.  “That was the one with Tom… That’s it, you’ve got a Hiddleston crush now, don’t you?  That’s why you were so weird when he was on set, geezus, how did I not see it?”

She purses her lips and hides her smile.  “Well, hell, the way those two women write, how could I not see him a little differently? I know, I know, it’s weird.  It’s not like a crush, more like, ‘I know I’ve met him before but how did I not realize he was attractive?’ Does that make sense?”

He sighs, counting out his tiles for the game.  “No, but I’ll take your word for it.”  Sitting across the table from her, he enjoys teasing her, likes watching the firelight flicker over her ginger hair, bringing out flecks of gold.  He knocks his foot against her calf, before picking her leg up and resting her foot in his lap, massaging the ball of her foot.  “So you aren’t going to run away from me? Leave me for Tom?”

“Oh, no!  I could never do that to Anna!  She’s the sweetest!”

“What?” he barks out, his laughter barely contained.

Her blush is as red as her hair and she drops her face into her little hands, the light bouncing off the silver wedding band and large stone.  “Shit!  That’s not what I meant and you know it-”

“Cuz, ya know Anna is really cute too and-”

“Shut up, Christopher.  That’s not what I meant at all, and you know it.” She tosses a tile at him.  “Are we gonna play the game or what?”

“You know I’m very competitive.  All right, give me the rules again.”

He reaches behind him for the popcorn, placing the inflated silver mound on the table before breaking the seal open and popped kernels spilling out onto the table.  She explains the rules as she remembers from the fan fic story she’d read and told him about, and they begin their word game, using only words related to sex acts, providing entertainment as the sun set.  The pair banter back and forth, laughing over use of slang and foreign words.

Chris looks up from his phone waving it at Emery when she sets back down from checking the dinner.

“We can eat now or la- what? Why are you waving that at me?”

“Tom thinks you’re cute too. He sends his best for Christmas in case he and Anna don’t make it back for reshoots till after the holidays.”

Her jaw hangs open momentarily and he tosses a piece of popcorn inside.  “You did not.”

He raises his eyebrow, in what should be a trademarked move.  He laughs and shrugs his shoulders.  “He happened to text just now about some studio gossip he heard, and Anna invited us for New Year’s Eve.  I may have mentioned you have a new appreciation for his ‘good looks.’  Bastard wanted to know what size Loki pajamas you would want for Christmas.” He chuckles, his eyes turning dark.  “I forbid you to wear those in our bed.”

She pushes back her hair.  “Is that a tone of jealousy I hear, Mr. Evans?  Are you worried another superhero could steal my heart?”

“He’s the villain,” he growls.

“Oh, I see… So you can look at other women, while I stand back and watch quietly while fans drape themselves all over you, but if I happen to say one of your co-stars is good looking, after all this time, you’re gonna get bent out of shape?”

“Hell, yeah, Emery, ‘cuz you’re mine.  I don’t want you thinking about any other guy, the way you think about me.  I get why you read fan fics, still.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes.  “No different if I decide to watch porn while we’re apart,” at the look on her face, he adds, “Which is rare, which is rare,” he laughs.  “But I don’t want you having sexual fantasies about my friends. Our friends.  It’s weird.”

sexy scrabble.jpg

Rearranging her tiles, she can’t lift her eyes to his.  She says quietly, “I don’t have sexual fantasies about your friends.  Only you.”

He likes teasing her.  “Emery Thomas Evans, can you boldly tell me you didn’t marry me because I’m a Marvel man, and have famous friends.”

“Oh, yeah.  That’s not important to me.”  She lays out her next word on the board. ‘Spank.’ “I totally married you for your amazing cock.”

He coughs, holding back his laughter, watching her mouth twitch as she tries not to laugh as well.  “Is that all?  That’s the only reason?”

“Well, that and your money.  Being a poor, broke teacher was getting old… Thank god you don’t work for DC,” she throws out.

“My money? Really Miss ‘I Bought All My Christmas at Wal-Mart?’”

She slaps her thigh. “Oh!  Look who’s talking?!  You are still wearing the same Henley from 2006 and won’t wear the new ones I buy you.”

“Target. Quality stuff.  2006 was a good year,” Chris says, running his hands over the well worn fabric.  “And it’s comfortable.  The new ones are itchy and tight, and damn, Em, they just don’t make them like they used to.”

With a giggle and a smirk on her face, she rises, silently pausing the game.  She moves to the kitchen and he gets up to follow her, reaching for the plates as she opens the cook pot.  “Christopher Robert Evans, it’s not like you are eighty years old and they only made good shirts when you were young!  The new ones will stretch out if you just wear them.”  Emery rolls her eyes and serves out the pasta dish, smelling remarkably just like Mama Lisa’s kitchen.

***

Emery’s eyes flutter open when she realizes too much sunlight is pouring into the small cabin.  She blinks repeatedly trying to focus and make sense of what she sees.  Chris’s round bubble butt comes into view first.  “Evans, what the hell are you doing?” she laughs, throwing a pillow at him.

cabin chris

“Just enjoying the view.  The fresh air.”  He looks back over his shoulder with an impish grin.  “Bringing in the sun to wake you up, sleepyhead.  Come here, you’re not gonna believe this.”

Grumbling, she pulls the comforter from the bed, wrapping it around herself.  “You better close that door and bring your parts back inside.  You’re no good to me if your dick freezes and falls off.”  Her voice is tight and raspy, the cold air having taken its toll overnight. She tiptoes across the cold floor to stand behind him.  Holding tight to the corners of the blanket, she wraps her arms across his chest, cocooning them both in the warmth of the bedding.  “What time is it?” she asks sleepily.

“Vacation time.  Who gives a fuck? Anyway, we’re snowed in.”

“Hmmm…” she hums, nestling against his back.  The feel of his favorite faded flannel against her cheek is comforting and she’s so happy to be in his arms again.  “What?”  She blinks, really opening her eyes, surprised to see the truck and lane covered with snow.  He nudges her backwards and closes the door.  “Can you believe I hardly ever saw snow as a kid, and now it snows here at least once a year?  So weird.”

“Global warming,” he scoffs, spinning her around to the front of his body, laughing when she jumps back.  He pulls her close, whispering, “We get an early Christmas present.  Production is shut down for a few days.  Atlanta is at a stand still and the power is out.  It’s messing with filming.”

“Hard to look like Wakanda with snow on the ground,” she offers. “Do we have power?”

“I don’t know; I haven’t checked,” he admits. “I just woke up myself when the phone rang-”

“Were you about to… pee off the front porch?”

Laying back on the couch, he pulls her on top of him.  “Hey, we’re camping-”

“No.  No.  I don’t need to know anymore.  Thanks. God, men are so weird.” she giggles.

“So we’re stuck inside?  Might I suggest choosing another word on the board? Maybe make it a combo act?” He teases, pointing to their abandoned game.  “I think last night’s winner should choose the word.”

She slows her breathing to match his, lulling into a restful state, nestled in his arms as he combs his fingers through her hair.  “I wanna sleep more.  I never sleep well when you’re gone.  And it’s been so crazy.  But now it’s just us.  So let’s go back to bed.”

He chuckles and she vibrates against him.  “I don’t think you mean that the way I hope you mean that.”  Chris drops his head to kiss the top of her mass of wild red curls.

Emery’s fingertips graze over his chest and she delights in the goosebumps that form across the solid plane.  Her heart begins to beat faster and she pulls in all the details of the moment.  His warm skin.  The dark words etched into his flesh.  The small scar on his neck.  His freckled cheeks.  “Hey, Chris?” She lifts her head to look at him.  “This may be the best Christmas present ever.  More time with you.  Thank you.”

His lips turn into a smile.  “Mother Nature and I worked that out, together, just for you, kitten.  Merry Christmas, Emery.”

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Perfect Balance

perfect balance december 4 2017

Perfect Balance

an Emery&Chris story

by avenger-nerd-mom

Warnings: real life, Hollywood, fluff, language

Word Count: 1362

Image from weheartit.com

Thanks @moncun for the drabble prompt!

December 2017

Looking to the back window, Chris puffs up his chest.  She’s been giving him the cold shoulder all afternoon, and he didn’t do anything wrong!  Her strong Southern pride got riled again, and he opened his mouth, inserting his foot before he realized it was too late to backtrack. The spitfire redhead must really be angry. She didn’t even crack a smile when he announced he was going out to chop wood for the evening fire, and he had on his gray SHIELD shirt.  

With a few days off from filming, he’s in tip top Steve Rogers mode.  Things have been so crazy this fall, he’d promised a few days in a secluded cabin in the Blue Ridge mountains.  Swinging the ax down, he takes out his frustrations.  Married life hasn’t been easy, especially dealing with her grandmother’s death and a miscarriage, all within the first six months of their marriage.  But things have been good lately.  It’s nice to work close to home, to be at the house in Savannah two or three nights a week.  

Celebrity gossip and politics are both topics they try to avoid.  News of another celebrity figure had splashed all over the TV that morning, starting another round of discussions… 

He knows and understands her fear; she’s nothing if she’s not vocal.  Even he has days when he wonders if some old story will come around about a flirtation taken the wrong way.  He can’t change his past, he shrugs. If something comes out, they’ll just have to deal with it.  He’s never crossed any lines, but everything is under scrutiny these days.  Even a playful tap on the ass to a cute waitress, can be —

The sound of the log splitting enters his spirits, grounding him, pulling him away from Hollywood thoughts.  It’s nice to feel like he could work with his hands if he ever needed to, if he ever decided to walk away.  He tosses the split pieces to the growing pile and balances another log on its end, bringing the ax down with a satisfying swish.  

Maybe that’s what he should do.  He wipes his arm across his brow, wiping away the building sweat.  Just walk away from it all for a while, let himself grow soft.  He sighs.  The play will be a challenge, and Emery is looking forward to a stint working with a select group of teachers in the NYC school system to better their math instruction.  Some promotional work next spring for Marvel, and then some much deserved time off.  Scripts are coming in, but he hasn’t had the time to devote to reading them like he’d hoped during down times on set.  There are just too many people around, friends to hang out with, making it seem more like play than work.  Emery finds a way to Atlanta at least two or three days a week if he can’t get home, depending on her speaking engagements.  But days like today make him feel like their careers are taking a toll on their marriage.  

Bringing the ax down again harshly, he leaves it stuck in the log, pissed at the thought.  How can a marriage be stale after barely a year?

“Easy, fucker,” he mumbles, scolding himself.  “You don’t work hard enough.  She makes it too easy for you to let everything slide.”

He reaches for his beer and takes a long draw, the cold liquid frosty, sliding down the back of his throat.  But that’s just her way.  She’s a goddess among women, the only one to tame his wild ways.  She’s sweet and gentle, with a hidden wild side only he sees.  The perfect balance of naughty and nice…

The door swings open.  “I made soup… if you eat that sort of thing,” she tersely jokes, the door closing behind her.

Wiping his hands on his pants, he picks up a few of the chopped wedges, placing them in the crook of his arm, and carrying in his beer.  Entering the toasty kitchen, the small one room cabin with a loft smells like heaven.  “Grilled cheese?” she offers, turning back to the stove as she flips the toast in the pan.  Chris walks over to the hearth to set the logs near the fireplace for later in the evening.

“Sure,” he replies, moving to wash up at the sink.  “Two slices, extra gooey like you make it?”

“Of course,” she says quietly, tilting her head to his when he tenderly kisses her temple.

The pair eat quietly, talking over holiday plans and sharing news from both sides of the family.  Nothing stressful.  Chris offers to clean up their mess so Emery can finish up some of her school work for the day.  Lost in her work, she doesn’t even hear him tell her he’s going to take shower.

After the shower, he pulls on an his plaid pajama bottoms and an old sweatshirt she packed.  He tugs it down, smiling at the metal knight warrior on the front, the mascot from her old school.  He rubs his hands over his face.  Although it’s still early, by the clock, the colder night air makes it feel later than it is.  He reaches in his travel bag, and pulls out a small present he’s hidden away, just for her.

Stepping from behind the room divide, the main room is empty.  He tilts his head, and listens.  The bathroom sink is running.  She’s getting ready for bed too.  Placing the small wrapped parcel on the couch, he takes a few steps to the fireplace, stoking the fire, trying to keep the cabin warm.  

His heart leaps when she steps from the room, his plaid pajama top reaching down to her knees.  Em smiles shyly.  “Want some hot chocolate?” she asks, stepping toward the kitchen.

He grabs her arm as she walks past, pulling her into his lap.  He wraps around her waist and pushes her curls back with his other hand.  “You look cute in my shirt.”  It swallows her up; way too big, and with the top button missing, he can see her pink bra covering the sloped curve over the top of her breast.  He leans forward, practically knocking her to the ground as he holds her tight, reaching over the coffee table for the small present.

Righting himself on the hearth, he bounces her in his lap and she rests her head against his shoulder.  “What’s this?  We said no presents, remember?”

She’s too beautiful, and if she doesn’t unwrap the gift soon, he’s going to want to unwrap her.  Which defeats the purpose of this gift.  He runs his thumb across her sweet freckles, and quietly says, “I saw it and knew you needed it.  Don’t think of it as a Christmas present.”

“Ok,” she giggles, untying the plaid ribbon and letting it fall to the ground.  The crisp paper has velvety flocking and she runs her hands over the beautifully wrapped gift.  “This is lovely.  Did you do this?”

“For you; I googled how to properly wrap a present,” he chuckles.  “No dollar store gift bag for my girl.”

She laughs, peeling back the tape.  Seeing just a glimpse, she lets out of a squeal of delight. “Oh, my god, Christopher!  You didn’t?”

“I did.”  He picks her up and carries her to the couch.  Snuggling her to his side, he reaches for the old quilt on the back of the couch and throws it over her legs, covering up her silly Christmas socks.  He takes the gift from her, and opens it.  In his rich, Boston accent, he reads aloud, ““Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.’”

As the wind begins to howl outside the cabin, the couple take turns reading from the book Emery has longed to share with him.  As the fire dies down, and her reactions grow further apart, her breathing changes and his voice lulls her to sleep, safe in the arms of the man she loves.  Intrigued by the story, Chris continues to read silently to himself, the story of the boy who lived.

Click here to Part Two of this story, Vacation Time

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

Score Another Goal

original score another goal less fuzzy question.jpg

*a Chris Evans fan fic*

by avenger-nerd-mom

After soccer practice, a single mom gets an eventful ride home…

NSFW, with my trademark fluff; “fluffy smut”

Word Count: 6737

“Just go talk to him.  You know he’s here every week, and he’s always watching you behind his shades.”

“Bullshit; he is not,” she blushes.  “He’s here to help his brother-in-law coach the team, and spend time with his nephews.  I’m not gonna butt in on that.”

“Speaking of ‘butts,’ look at his ass in those sweatpants, I mean damn,” says a third mother.

“I can’t, I’m too busy thinking about his thighs,” she laughs.

The sound must reach the field, because Chris looks up and waves at the group of moms.

“You really should talk to him,” says the brunette.

“Why me?” she asks.

“Well, first of all, you’re single.  I’m a lesbian, and Tamara’s married.  And if anyone of us needs to get laid soon, it’s you.”

She hides her face behind her hands.  “Shh… There are children around!  Someone will hear you.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, if you don’t try to tap that soon, Carrie and I are considering asking him to join us.”  The brunette wiggles her eyebrows and the women dissolve into another fit of laughter.

***

Practice ends and she stays to help the head coach’s wife clean up snack.  Tommy’s dad had showed up and offered to take him to dinner and wanted to keep him for the night.  The two women discuss arrangements for the upcoming bake sale at school and generally catch up on details with one another’s busy lives.  She is surprised when the portly woman budges her arm as they clean up the empty juice pouches and announces,  “He can’t take his eyes off you.”

“Who?” she asks.

The woman tilts her head toward the field were Chris and his nephews and dog are running around laughing and chasing after the ball.

“You think so?  Someone else said that same thing about an hour ago.”

The coach’s wife looks inside the abandoned cleats for the owner’s name.  “These belong to Miles.  Why don’t you walk them out there?”

She shakes her head.  “Oh, really.  Y’all are being ridiculous.  He could have any pick of all the women in the world.  He wouldn’t want me.”

The older woman throws the shoes inside her big utility bag and throws it up onto her shoulder.  “You might wanna rethink that.  He was at the house the other night and asked about you…”  The woman’s words trail off as she walks away.

Her phone buzzes and she smiles towards her son’s teammates and calls goodbye to another family leaving.  She looks down at the silly photo her son sent from his favorite restaurant, helium balloons tied to his ears.  “God, he’ll be so hyped on sugar he won’t sleep tonight,” she mumbles as she walks to her car.

The days are shorter now and the streetlights flicker to life as it finally begins to get dark.  A minivan honks at her as it drives past and she waves goodbye to another family.  Chris’s laughter draws her attention back to the abandoned field.  His nephews and brother -in- law have left and he’s just enjoying time with his dog. The scene is reminiscent of the reunion video that recently went viral when he returned home from a long engagement overseas. She’s not a fangirl and doesn’t keep up with his happenings anymore, although she knows their mothers are still friendly at church.  But even she saw the video.

The whoop whoop of her keys echo against the trees and she sees Dodger jerk his head towards her.  His car must be the other in the lot, she thinks as she climbs into her vehicle.  She’d like to leave quickly and avoid a confrontation, although her friends put some positively sinful images into her mind.  Turning the ignition, cool air blows from the vents and a classic 80s song fills the tiny sedan.  But not the sound of the engine.  She turns off the music and tries again.  Nothing.  Something flashes on the dash and the ‘check engine’ light angrily fires back at her.  She hits her head back against the seat, watching him start to jog over to her car.

Sighing, she climbs out of the vehicle, reaching for her laptop bag in the back seat.  Closing and locking the door, she leans against the trunk until he’s in closer proximity.  She feebly calls out, “Hey, can I get a ride?”

His stride stops short.  He pulls off his baseball cap and runs his hands through his longer hair.   She’s known him their whole lives and realizes this may be the first time she’s seen him without product in it.  Her fingers itch, wondering if his hair is as soft as it once was… She blinks away the thought and shoves her hands down into her pockets, fighting the desire to flex them.

He puts the cap back on and removes his sunglasses now that the sun has disappeared over the tops of the trees.  He chuckles.   “Ah. This looks familiar.  I seem to recall a day I needed a ride home and you left me standing in the rain.”

She laughs at the memory.  “You were being a really jerk that day,” she recalls.  “Come on, Chris, ya can’t be serious.  You can’t leave me here in the dark, at night.”

Dodger trots over to her and sits at her feet, turning his head side to side between them.  She laughs at his floppy ears and pulls a hand out for him to sniff.

“JoJo, it’s not up to me.  His decision.  You’d be taking his seat in the car.”

Her stomach flip flops at the use of the old nickname he had for her.  She crouches down to the mutt.  He nuzzles into her neck and his whiskers tickle.  She giggles and looks up at Chris.  “Not sure, but I think your dog just got to first base.”

“Lucky boy.”

The look in his eyes is unmistakable.  A flicker of desire rises up in her belly.  She rises tall.  When she speaks she can’t deny the words sound sultry even to her ears.  “So, about that ride?”

“I can give you a ride, no problem,” he says, blushing at the implied sexual reference.  He nervously rubs the back of his neck.  Nodding towards the car, he asks, “What’s wrong with it?  Want me to take a look?”

She throws her head back and laughs.  Dodger jumps up, his paws on her waist, barking. “Your daddy is silly; he makes me laugh,” she sing-songs to the dog, grasping his white paws in her hands and moving in a silly dance before gently pushing him down.  “Chris, you know jack shit about auto mechanics.  You can help in two ways- call me a tow, or take me home.”

“Come on,” he motions, reaching out his hand to take her heavy bag.  She slides it off her shoulder, handing it to him and is instantly transported back to sophomore year, when he carried her bag to class every day.  She swears to herself she can even smell the cafeteria in the air.  “I’d never hear the end of it from Ma if she found out I left you in a dark parking lot.”

“How is your mom?  I haven’t seen her in a while,” she asks, following him to the politically incorrect gas guzzler he drives.

“Then you aren’t attending Mass,” he gathers from her comment.

She sighs.  “Oh?  You can’t see the scarlet ‘D’ on my chest?  Half the church threw a shit fit when I left Nathan…  Your mom was cool about it though.  I guess she remembered how difficult divorce can be when you’ve got kids to worry about.  Thankfully, I just have the one, not a houseful, like she did.”

He sucks in a breath, and hisses out.  “Yea, I don’t attend Mass much either.”  He tugs at the St. Christopher’s medallion rested against his tight pecs, pulling it out away from his neck and looking down at it before tucking it back into his t-shirt.  “Hard in this day and age to buy all that, sometimes…  Divorce doesn’t make you evil, JoJo.  You know that, right?  You did what you had to do…  Good to know Ma was supportive.”

Her arm burns from his brief touch as he reaches out to her in a physical display of solidarity.  He opens the back door and sets her bag on the floor.  “Dodger, up!” He commands.  The dog jumps up and turns a quick circle on a towel on the bench seat before laying down and curling his paw over his nose.  “Good boy,” Chris compliments, scratching behind the dog’s ears.

“So, uh, Nathan?”  Chris asks, opening the front door of the sleek black vehicle.  “Is the local gossip true?  I heard some of the parents talking about it…”

She moves between him and the door, climbing up into the leather seat.  “Yes, he got his secretary pregnant…  We co-parent fairly well, but I don’t give a fuck what he does in his private life anymore.  His mother came to the house to visit Tommy a few weeks back and said the woman realized if he cheated once, he’d probably do it again, so she called off their wedding.  I think the kid is about a eight months old now?  He’ll probably end up paying child support to her too.”

“Shit,” Chris murmurs.  “And I thought my relationships were kinda fucked up.  At least I don’t have moms and kids everywhere.”

His sadness hangs in the air, trapped inside with her when he closes the door.  She watches him walk around the front of the car, seeing only the upper half of his body, hidden under that ridiculous retro sweatshirt he often wears.  She shakes her head and a small smile graces her lips.

“What?” he asks, opening the driver’s side and peering in at her.

“Just thinking about that sweatshirt,” she blushes, moving a script out of the front seat for him as he lifts up into the seat.  “I nearly choked on my popcorn when I saw you wearing it in that movie.”  She pinches her lips together and on a whim, reaches out and caresses the well worn fabric between her fingers as he settles his arm over the center console. “You thought you were hot shit when you bought that thing.”

He nods, a faraway smile on his face as he rests his head back against the leather seat.  He turns his head and looks over his shoulder as puppy snores come from the back seat.  Chris himself lets out a puff of air.  “Of all my movies, you saw that one?”

“Not your best, but really a bit like you, I must say,” she laughs, laughing even harder when he flips her off.

“Get outta the car, you’re walking,” he teases, looking down to where her hand still rests on his arm.  “JoJo-”  His tone is full of long forgotten emotions.

Pulling her hand away, she quietly says, “Please, just take me home.”

He grunts and pushes a button on the dash to silently start the ignition.  He eases the car back, exiting the parking space before shifting into drive.  “Ok, fine, but I don’t know where home is…”

She gives him directions and he slowly enters into the moving traffic headed deeper into the suburbs.  “Pretty fancy neighborhood,” he clucks.

“Pretty damn good lawyer,” she states.  “I got to keep everything.  Even the boat.”  She turns to him with a grin.  “Wanna buy a boat?”

He laughs, “Aw, man, that bastard shoulda known better.”  He watches her from the corner of his eye as he maneuvers through the traffic.  “The men in your life have to learn lessons the hard way, huh?”

She ignores his veiled commentary.  “Chris?  What are you doing?  You just missed the turn.”

“Yes, Miss Fancy Pants Lawyer, we’re gonna get dinner first.  Text DeMineo’s and order whatever kind of pizza you want, and an order of garlic bread sticks.  And a calzone, pepperoni, extra cheese.  And don’t tell me you don’t have Sal’s number in your phone.  Everyone in the old neighborhood still does.”

“Chris, we don’t have time to drive all the way out there,” she says, already placing the order on her phone.

“Nathan’s got your son, and I bet you didn’t eat before the game, or you had some wimpy salad while he ate a kid’s meal.  I sure as hell haven’t eaten and my stomach feels in knots.  We can get it to go and take it back to my place; it’s closer.  I’ll call Bobby to check on your car and I’ll get you home, all before the late news starts.  I promise.”

“God, you’re still a bossy pain in the ass,” she swears under breath, looking out the window to hide her smile.

“Yea, and now I’ve got the money to use to get what I want.”

Quiet settles between them, and she ponders his words.  On the social ladder, her family had been a step up from his, and his mother had always kept the Evans’ kids on a short leash, tight curfews and a long list of chores before allowances were doled out.  If she only knew how many nights those kids snuck out the back window of the guest room over the garage.  She wipes her tongue over her teeth; hell, Lisa knew.  She always knew everything.  Chris probably told her.  She remembers the summer he cut grass to buy that ugly sweatshirt and how proud he was to wear it and give it to her.

It had broken her heart to give it back.

She’s shocked he still has it after all these years.  She rolls her head around her shoulders, trying to get the kinks out, wishing she’d remembered to set an appointment at the spa.  She needs to take a day off work; to find some time for herself.  She’d forgotten how to be anything more than a lawyer and a mother, and she felt like she wasn’t very good with either one right now.  Lost in her thoughts, she’s surprised when they pull up under the bright red lights at DeMineo’s.  “Does he still have the red and white checkered cloths?” she asks, her voice melancholy and full of memories from long ago.  “I haven’t been inside in years.”

“Wanna eat in tonight?” Chris asks, shifting the car to park.

“Nah, not really up for the noise, but thanks.  I’ll have to bring back Tommy sometime.  I bet he’d love it.”

“He would.  I know the kids love it here when we come with Carly and Ryan.  Sit tight.  I’ll be back in a minute.”

She nods.  Reaching over, she turns on the radio and turns it her favorite station, listening to local radio.  The announcer’s voice comes through loud and clear as the station switches over to play the late game.  She checks her watch quickly and realizes the time is later than she thought.  Reaching in her pocket, she pulls out a twenty dollar bill and places it in his glove box, just like she did when they were teens.  He’d always insist on paying, even when she knew he was scraping by, so she always found a way to pay him back.  Chris never said anything about it, but he had to have known it was her all those years.  She jolts at the weight on her shoulder, and chuckles when she realizes it’s just Dodger.  She wraps her arm over the top of his head and rubs the tender spot above his eyes.  “You have doggie breath,” she whispers.  “He’s lonely, isn’t he, Dodge?

The dog’s quiet whimper answers her question.

She rolls the car window down when he exists the little Italian eatery and approaches the car with a giant box and a bag precariously balanced on top.  He hands the items to her and scolds Dodger, telling him to get back in his spot.  The dog nuzzles her cheek again before doing as told.

Chris crawls back into his seat and they are back on the road, heading to his house.  “I already texted Bobby, and he’s gonna send one of his guys over to see if he can get it to start.  If not, they’ll tow it to the shop and look at it tomorrow.  He said he’d call later and let me know, and he could arrange a ride to work tomorrow if you need it.”  He shrugs.  “I’d say if the car is broken down, use it as an excuse to take the day off.  You look like the type of woman who works too hard; when was the last time you had a vacation, anyway?”

The box is warm in her lap and the smells from the bag are too enticing.  She reaches in for a breadstick.  She rolls the bag back down, tearing it in half and offering some to Chris.  He reaches across with his left hand and takes it from her.  “I’ll have you know, Tommy and I spent two weeks in Florida with my dad this summer, and really enjoyed time at both parks there- holy shit, I forgot how good these breadsticks were-” she giggles along with him, “-and went out to Cape Canaveral, did the space stuff, and spent a few days on the beach.  I can relax and have fun; I’m not always an uptight witch with a stick up my ass.  That’s just at work,” she explains.

“I never said that-”

“Chris, come on, I know what everyone says about me.  I know we don’t see each other a lot, but we still run in a lot of the same social circles.”

He licks his lip and doesn’t comment on the gossip.  “Other than the soccer field, when did we last see each other?”  Chris wonders aloud.

“Some wedding, I’m sure.  It seems like someone we know is always getting married.  I think you had a girlfriend with you, and she kept pulling you away from your pals.”

“Well, damn, that could have been any number of times then,” he scoffs.

“Always a groomsman, never a groom,” she teases.

“Ain’t that the truth,” he laments.

She eyes his sad profile and wishes she could take back her words.  She exhales quietly.  “Sorry; I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Nah, maybe I need to hear it; talk about it; get my shit together.”  He signals a right hand turn and takes the car down a quiet lane, not far from the old neighborhood.  “I had a lot of time to think while I was away.  South Africa is an interesting place, but, man, it was a long time to be gone. Almost too introspective for me.  Too many demons to deal with…”

He signals another turn down a shaded driveway and parks in front of the garage.  She looks out the large front window and realizes it’s the house he always liked, the one he always said he’d own one day.  “Your dream house,” she whispers.

“Yea, well…  I guess I made at least one or two dreams come true.  It’s kinda too big for me and the dog, but when it finally went up for sale, Tara helped me get it.”  He exits the car, jogging around the front and taking the items from her hands.  With his own full, he looks perplexed that he can’t be a gentleman and offer her a hand.  She shoos him back away from the car and steps down onto the pavement, reaching around to open the door for Dodger to bound out.  “Couldn’t give up on all my dreams, I guess,” he states matter of factly.  “I still haven’t given up on settling down one day.”

“Always the dreamer, Chris.  That’s actually an admirable quality,” she compliments, grabbing her bag from the back seat and taking the food sack into her hands.  “Lead the way,” she commands.

Dodger pounces past them both, trying to trap a cricket under his large paws.  Chris chuckles at his antics and whistles to him.  The dog snaps his attention to his master, and follows up the path to the front door.  Chris balances the box on his hip and types in a key code to unlock the door and dismantle the alarms.  “I like you’ve kept it very unassuming, like no one famous lives here.”

He nods his agreement, stepping aside to let her into the lit entryway.  “Straight on back and to the left,” he says, dropping his car keys and sunglasses on the little table by the door.

Walking past the open living room, she notices how the dark wood floors add a homey touch to the white space.  Family photos in black and white peer out from the shelves, loaded with books and memorabilia- Disney, Patriots and Marvel.  Walking into the dim kitchen, she finds the light switch and bathes the room in a warm glow.  The barnwood table is a wonderful accent piece, and she finds herself a bit jealous of any woman who could someday claim the space as ‘hers.’   The feeling stabs her in the gut.  “Whew,” she whistles out quietly.

“Sorry, what was that?”  Chris asks, stepping up behind her.

She looks to him, confused, her head starting to pound and she feels flushed.  “Um?” She licks her lips, taking the pizza box from his hand.  “Chris, I’m not hungry.  I don’t want pizza.”  She sets the box on the counter.  Her heart pounds in her ears and she can’t catch her breath.  Before she can really think it through, she throws herself against him, pressing her lips hungrily to his.  She flings her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her, and grabbing and tugging at his shaggy hair, his hat falling to the floor.   After a moment of surprise, his arms slip around her waist, holding her tight, returning her kisses with the same fire and need.  Splitting apart briefly for air, she whispers, “I want you.”

His tongue darts between his teeth and washes over her full lips.  “Are you sure?  I guess we could work up an appetite?”  He bends over her and kisses again, pulling her lower lip between his, sinking his teeth down into the soft, familiar flesh.  “You taste the same, JoJo.”

“Fuuuck,” she hisses through her teeth.  “You’re good liar, but I’ll take it.”

He scratches his full beard along her jaw and down her neck.  “I remember everything about you, babe, I never forgot.”

Her head spins with his touch, his scent, and she knows she isn’t a high school girl anymore, fumbling around on the couch in his parents’ basement.  But damn, he can make her feel that way.  It’s her chance to see if all the ‘what ifs’ in her mind actually could be true.  One thing’s for sure, the beard is a nice, new touch.  And he uses it to his advantage, as he burrows into her neck.  “Been wanting to do this all night, since the damn dog beat me to it,” he whispers against her.  Scratching his beard along her delicate skin, his lush lips find the sensitive spot behind her ear.

“Damn you,” she sighs.  “You do remember.”  The burn against her neck stings and awakens feelings deep inside she’s long forgotten.  Chris always had that special touch, even as a teen, no other man has ever offered her.  He knows all her buttons; he helped her discover them.  They perfected them together.

She wonders what else he remembers as she digs her fingers into his biceps, his kisses harsh then soft, while she slides her hands over his collarbone.  She reaches between them and unzips his sweatshirt, pushing the worn fabric back from his sculpted shoulders. In her mind, he was always the muscled man she sees before her today, always her superhero ready to fight her battles.  He spins her around, pinning her against the table.  Leaning his upper body away from him, he pulls the jacket off, swiftly turning it inside out and dropping it to the floor.  She looks down, smiling at it puddled at their feet before lunging back to him, putting her lips to his.  One of his strong hands lifts under her ass, boosting her to sit on the table, while the other slides under the back of her shirt, spanning across her spine.  With a gentle nudge she falls into him, wrapping her legs around his waist.  A perfect fit, as always.  Chris holds himself steady, but she can feel how hard he’s growing, how desperate he is for her.

Like greedy kids, their mouths never part, and they share the same air.  Her hands move down the back of his arms, gripping at the tight muscles, pulling back to laugh at the removed tattoo.  “I told you it was stupid,” she reminds him, tracing her fingers over the faded marking.  His eyes watch her hands and he bites his lip, waiting impatiently to have hers again.  He pushes against the table, trying to hurry her up.  She doesn’t give, enjoying his skin, and the smooth sensation under her fingertips, adoring all the little freckles and scars she remembers, curious about the new ones.  Her hands snake under his heavy arms and wrap around his skinny waist, something she always teased him about, but secretly loved because it made him easier to hold on to…

No longer able to watch her hands as she scratches his lower back, he tilts his knuckle under her chin and turns her face back to his.  He raises his other hand up and runs both over her cheeks, his fingertips massaging along her hairline, gently pressing against her skull.  His blue eyes wash over her skin, his eyelashes long against his cheeks when his eyes drop to examine her mouth.  “Hmmm… I had forgotten one thing.  This scar on your lip,” he says, his thumb brushing across it, and pushing her lips in a sensual manner.  “You were so embarrassed with the stitches, and you’d yell at me every time I’d make you laugh and it would pull.”

“That was a lot of yelling,” she remembers, lifting the hem of his shirt and running her fingertips along the elastic waist of his sweatpants.  “You always knew how to make me laugh.”

Pressing hard into the muscle tissue, he sighs at her touch, tenderly kissing the tiny scar.

The lightest touch, like the wings of butterfly, sends chills through her body.  “What was that for?” she whispers.

He tilts his head.  “You wouldn’t have gotten it if Scott and I weren’t fighting over that baseball bat,” he chortles, shaking his head at the stupid memory.

“How is it you were always an idiot in one moment, and my hero in the next?”  She says, her hands dipping lower down his backside.

“Can I be your hero again?  Tonight?” Chris asks, trying to mask his boyish grin when she nods her consent.

Stepping back, Chris pulls her back into his arms, her legs still wrapped around his waist as he lowers himself to the floor, into a seated position.  Straddling him, she lifts her arms to hold the edge of the counter above and rocks her body against his, shifting her weight to free her legs and fold them back at his side.  She pulls off her sweatshirt and t-shirt, somewhat grateful for the lady-like lace inserts on the sports bra she put on when she changed clothes after work.  Chris whistles appreciatively, mumbling some throwback compliment to their high school days.  She briefly wonders if she’s been dressing just for him for weeks, hoping to be alone with him.  Avoiding the obvious answer, she reaches between them, subtly rubbing the back of her hand against her throbbing pussy, grasping the hem of his shirt and raising it above his head, chucking it in the pile.  Freed of the cotton barrier, his arms fold across her back and he brings her to him, leaning forward at the same time and nestling his full beard between her aching breasts.   His breath is warm and hot as he whispers his praises, “Always the perfect tits, JoJo; the stuff of fantasies.”

She arches into him, silently begging him to take her into his mouth.  It’s obvious he plans to torture her as he slides his nose up one valley, licking along the lacy edge of clothing.  His hands never stop roaming across the soft skin of her backside, climbing up and down her spine, her sides, and chuckling at the goosebumps he leaves in their wake.  His hands grasp under her ass and lift her, pushing her closer to his mouth, his breath hot and wet as he laps at her nipple through the fabric.  The bud reacts to his attention and she longs to free herself, but doesn’t want to rush his sinful tactics, lessons learned as a man, from the boy she loved.  Her fingers card through his hair, and she manipulates his head closer, and then pulls his hair, tugging him away, guiding his touch.  “Always were a tease,” he jokes as his fingers push under the tight elastic band of the athletic gear.  Finding it restrictive, he gives up, instead grabbing the fabric near her shoulders.  His fingertips dance over the top curve of her breasts, teasing her moments before yanking the fabric down, exposing her to the chilly evening air.  Her nipples bud and the flesh rises from the cold, a gasp of desire and awe escaping her.  His hands grope and fondle her full breasts, pushing them together and releasing them before whispering in her ear, “Tell me what you want, JoJo.”

A tiny whine releases from the back of her throat.  “What I’ve always wanted, Chris; I haven’t changed, I want your mouth on me, biting and sucking.  Please,” she begs, rising closer to him, giving herself to his mouth and shifting her weight across him to straddle his thigh.

He kisses her exposed skin, teasing in circles around her nipples, his own breathing heightened with need.  They begin to rock in a rhythm, their rhythm, one they wrote years ago.  She grinds herself against his thigh, the lace wisp of her thong pushing between her lips, the denim an added friction.  “We’re not on the plaid couch; no one’s gonna walk in on us,” he quietly goads her.  “You can have the real thing, not just my thigh,” he offers.

Tugging the long hair at the back of his neck, she rises up and pulls his head back, looking into his eyes.  “It worked then, and it works now.  I spend a lot of nights thinking about riding your thighs, Evans, so shut up and let me.”  She holds his head tightly in place and when he opens his mouth to speak, she shoves her nipple towards him.  She quietly coos when he bites down tenderly.  “It’s one way to shut you up,” she says, leaning into his affections as his tongue instantly knows what to do.   His hands hold tight to her hips and force her back down upon his leg, bending it slightly, raising and lowering her, listening to the echoing whimpers in the room.

His power is stronger, and his ability to hold her up is fueling her need.  She feels youthful and greedy, and wants all that he will give to her.  But she has a power now that she didn’t have before.  The ability to know what she wants and needs, and how to vocalize it- a power she didn’t have at seventeen.  “Chris, I want you to fuck me, to truly fuck me and show me what I’ve missed all these years,” she whispers, as his bites follow the curve of one breast to the top of the next.  His hands guide her hips as her thrusts pick up speed, and he cradles her, holding her tight to his leg as she rocks back and forth.  When his tongue teases around her taut nipple and he sucks her in between his teeth, continuing to bite and suck the sweet button, her cries grow strained and she stops moving, the orgasm building from deep inside, clenching, grasping at nothing.  Her need is unfulfilled and she’s insatiably left wanting more as a glimmer of sweat builds over them both.

“You come for me so beautifully, JoJo; you always did, my pet.”

His little name for her, words she hasn’t heard whispered in years and silently tears begin to the fall from her eyes, the emotions too much to bear.  She can’t believe she’s in his arms again, even if just for the night.  With a strength and confidence he didn’t have in his youth, he hastily flips her over onto her back, the tiles cold against her bare skin. Crouching back on his knees, Chris undoes her pants and pulls them from her body.  In one swift movement, her jeans and panties are gone, and she wiggles out of her sports bra under his watchful eyes as he quickly shimmies out of his sweatpants.  Resting on her elbows, still panting from before, she stares with wonder at his glorious cock, beautiful and more than she remembered it to be.  She leans on one side, grabbing him in one hand tenderly and motioning him to move closer.  His eyes watch hers, his own filled with mirth at her inspection as she runs her fingertips over the veiny ridges.  Lost in thought, relearning every line and indentation, she jumps when his fingers enter her, not even bothering with a tease.  “So wet, and slick; always ready for me.”

They might as well be hiding in the basement, snuggled under a blanket on the old couch as they caress one another, mutual hand jobs driving them to the edge.  His fingers pulse in and out, teasing over her puffy lips before diving back inside her hidden well.  Her fingers glide along his shaft, fingerpainting with his precum and enjoying the feel of him in her hands.  “You’re killing me, JoJo.  I wanna be inside you,” he whines.

With his free hand, he grabs at her wrist and releases his cock from her hand, and raises her arm above her head.  He pulls his other hand from between her legs and raises it to his lips, waving his hand under his nose to catch her scent before licking his fingers clean. “That’s sexy,” she murmurs as he climbs between her legs, nudging with his knee for her to spread them further apart.  He grasps her calf, leaning over her for a kiss as he slowly pushes into her.  She gasps at her tight hole expanding to accept him, filling her full.  He slides in again, deeper, sliding his sticky hand down her chest to fondle her resplendent breasts.  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers into her ear, nibbling her soft flesh.  She sighs peacefully when his cold medallion hits her chest and his beard tickles her neck.

“More,” she grunts, grabbing his ass with her free hand, and slapping it before pulling away again.

He flinches at her touch, pumping in and out again.  He pauses, pulling all the way out, brushing his dick across her opening, teasing her now.  “Sure you can take all this?”

“Willing to try,” she laughs as he pushes back into her, rocking against her again and again.  He lets go of her hand and holds his weight off her, pulling her other knee up and with his arms, pinning both of her legs to his sides.  Her arms wrap over his shoulders and she digs her fingernails into his back, biting at the Tolle quote on his collarbone.  Her body starts to hum with pleasure, finding her release quickly.  “God, I needed that,” she confesses.

He continues to buck against her, drawing out her orgasm as she convulses around him, her muscles sucking him inside, deeper and wetter.  The quiet sounds of their rapid breathing and their bodies slapping together fill their ears.  She can’t hold back her laughter and shakes against him when he starts fussing at Dodger to go away just as he spills inside her.  He collapses on top of her, his laughter and orgasm pushing her into the hard floor.  A tennis ball rolls into her view and she tosses it towards the living room, the dog bounding away after it, his nails clicking against the surface.

When Chris finally catches his breath, he apologizes and carefully slides out of her.  Her walls constrict and throb, wanting to be full again.  “What are you apologizing for?” she asks, as he begins to wipe her clean.

“I didn’t… Well, I didn’t invite you over here for that.  I mean, I was kinda hoping but…”  His voice trails off and his cheeks turn pink at his admission.  Rested on his side, still wiping at their mess, he kisses her shoulder.  “But really, JoJo, I was gonna pull out, and then the damn dog distracted me, and I’m really sorry, and-”

She mentally does the math, wondering when she last worried about birth control. She has no clue, since it’s been so long since she’s had sex.  Bells and whistles buzz inside her head, but he doesn’t need to know that at the moment.  She’ll just stop at the drug store tomorrow, within the time frame the doctor once told her about.  “Stop talking, Chris; I’m not worried, and… and you’re making a bigger mess.”  She wraps her hand around his wrist, looking down and laughing when she sees it’s his old sweatshirt he’s using to clean them.  She closes her eyes and rolls her head from side to side on the cold, hard floor.  “That sweat jacket’s always been good for that, babe, hasn’t it?” she reminisces.

He chuckles, his smile indicating he remembers that day long ago too.  “The couch was more comfortable,” he reminds her.

The front door of the house opens and slams shut, and Scott’s boisterous calls echo down the hallway.  She punches his arm, scrambling to pull her clothes over her body.  “I thought you said no one would walk in on us?” she hisses.

“Scott, FREEZE.  Do not make one more step.  I swear to God-”

“Dude, where are you?”

“I said STOP. Do not come into the kitchen!”

Quickly he rolls her to his chest, hiding her face from the room, depending on where Scott might be, covering her exposed ass with her t-shirt.

“Fuck, dude, all I see are legs, feet, clothes and that stupid ass sweatshirt.  Hey, pretty girl!”  Chris’s younger brother says.

“Hey, Scott,” she calls out.

There’s a moment of silence as he ponders something, and Dodger runs back into the room with his ball, bounding around the island and nuzzling the back of her head and she can’t help but laugh.  “I hate you,” she whispers into Chris’s neck.

“No, you don’t.  You love me,” he teases, pinching her ass and throwing the ball so Dodger will run away again.  “You always have.”

“I know that voice; why do I know that voice?” Scott asks.

“Scott, toss me some towels from the laundry room, and then go outside to start the campfire pit.  You can join us for dinner.”

“Oh my God!  JoJoGirl!  Is that you?”

“Hi, Scott,” she mumbles into Chris’s neck, embarrassed and amused at the same time.  “Get the fuck outta the kitchen so I can get dressed.”

“Oh my God; this is so exciting!”  He claps with glee and the towels drop to the floor next to them.  “You know, I’ve seen your ass before; I don’t know why you’re hiding it.”

“Get out!” Chris commands.

Scott leaves the kitchen area, mumbling about not being wanted, and Chris moves to a squat next to her.  He wraps her in the towel and picks her up in his arms, righting her to her feet.  “Go upstairs, second door on the left.  Just find something to wear for dinner and then I’ll send the idiot home, before we get sleep.”

“I thought you were taking me home.”

“I lied.  I trapped you here, and now I never want you to leave again.”

“Are you telling me you’re looking for a woman and a kid?  ‘Cause we’ve been looking for a man and a dog…”

“Hmmm…”  He hums.  “Tell me more about this boat you have.”

Copyright ©2017 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Online Shopping

online shopping august 9 2017.jpg

An Emery & Chris Drabble

By avenger-nerd-mom

Emery visits Chris in South Africa, spending the day in their hotel room while he works.

Warnings: Fluff, none

A special thanks to @mintmintdoodles for allowing me to make reference to her artwork and merchandise in this story.  See her shop at https://society6.com/mintmint/backpacks

Emery looks up from her computer with the key card slides through the hotel lock.  She bounds across the room and greets her handsome, scruffy husband at the door.  Sunburned and almost unrecognizable with his shaggy hair, she throws her arm around his neck, nearly knocking him over.  “Someone’s in a good mood,” he chuckles.

Chris closes the door behind him and wraps his strong arms around her waist, lifting her and carrying her to the bed.  He tosses her to the center and kisses down her tanned legs in her summer shorts before sitting on the end of the bed with a groan.  He pulls off his boots and massages the tops of his feet, achy from the tight laces. “How was your day?”

His lovely bride places her tiny feet on his back and walks them up and down his spine.  He sits there and takes the silly, loving gesture.  “Worked on some stuff for school, read a good book.  Did some shopping.”

Chris turns on the bed and takes her feet into his lap, pulling her closer to him, wanting her near.  “Shopping?  Em, I asked you not to leave the room.  It’s not really the safest around here and-”

“Honey, chill.  No, I was shopping on-line, getting some supplies, setting up some meal kit deliveries I want us to try out, and,” she announces with a dramatic flourish, “I got you a present.”  She moans quietly when he raises her foot to kiss under the arch.  “Damn,” she hisses.  “That’s nice.”

He sighs, “A present, Em.  You didn’t have to do that.  You’re all the gift I need.”

“Fuck that bullshit, I wanna get my man I gift, I’m getting him a gift.  I don’t care if you can go out and get whatever we want.  I saw this today, and I had to order it.  You need it.”

He lays down on the bed next to her, turning his face to look into her beautiful blue eyes.  “Fine, okay, I won’t be home for a few more weeks.  Do I have to wait that long?”

She playfully punches his arm.  “See?  I knew you secretly liked it when I buy you presents!”  She wiggles on the bed and pulls her phone from her back pocket.  Scrolling through a few images she hides the phone against her face.  “You ready?  Close your eyes!”

Chris sighs and pushes his longer hair back.  He closes his eyes, and his legs anxiously wiggle the bed in anticipation.  It’s one of the things she hates, but really misses when he’s gone.  In profile, relaxed on the bed, he looks so beautiful, but it’s not the face she knows.  She’ll be happy when he’s finished filming in Cape Town and he can get back home to her.  They’ve made a few plans for the Fall when he gets back, before he has to be in New York for rehearsals for his stage debut.  She holds the phone above him and whispers in his ear, “Open your eyes!”

His clear blue eyes slowly peek open and it takes him a moment to focus.  He laughs out loud.  “Oh, my God!  That’s wicked, kitten!  Is that a… a backpack with Dodger on it?”  He chuckles.  “In a Patriots jersey?  Fuck, Em.  That’s perfect.  How did you find it?”

He lays the phone down on the bed and reaches for her, rolling his petite wife on top of him.  He misses the weight of feeling her on him and he hates being apart so much.  It really is the perfect thing, so adorable, but he doesn’t really know what to do with a backpack.

She smiles down into his face, propped up on her elbow and using her other hand to massage his beard.  The longer it gets, the more it bothers him, but he can’t trim it now, not in the middle of filming.  He knows she hates it, but she doesn’t say a word.  “I still have some of my friends in the fandom, and Mint is an amazing artist. I just saw it when she posted it today, and knew you had to have it.  I know it’s a little childish, but Dodger?  In a jersey?”   She pauses and pushes her red curls back and out of their faces.  “Honestly, my first thought when I saw it was that it would make the perfect diaper bag.”

Chris rolls his wife to his side and rises up on his elbows.  Hopefully, he asks, “Are we- are we pregnant again?”

Her miscarriage last spring had been devastating to take, and they hadn’t really been trying for another child, but they hadn’t been not trying either.  She runs her hand down his chest, shaking her head.  “No.  No, but I can think about it now, and it doesn’t hurt…  I just saw the bag and thought it would be really sweet if that’s what you carried around baby supplies in.  You’ll make all the men at the ‘daddy and me’ classes jealous!”

She giggles and he leans over to kiss the tip of her nose. “That’s my girl, glad to see your smile back. Thank you, babe.  I love it; I’ll wear it everywhere.”  He tucks her up to his side and caresses his fingers through her hair, wanting to capture every moment before she returns back to the States at the end of the week.  “Love you till the end of the line, babe.”

He smiles, knowing she’s asleep in his arms before he even finishes the sentence.

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom