Labor of Love

Screenshot_20190413-090341_Phonto.jpg

Labor of Love

*an Emery&Chris fan fiction*

By avenger-nerd-mom

Word Count:  2363

Summary: Chris and Emery finally welcome their new little one into the world.

April 2019

Walking back to his trailer, Chris fumbles for his phone, nearly dropping it in the bright sun. He squints at the screen, wishing he had his sunglasses with him. The sunlight is deceiving- it’s not as warm as it appears. But since the weekend is supposed to be warmer, he promised his nephews a day at the park Saturday. Watching them play soccer. He chuckles, remembering all the “hot soccer Dad” comments Emery told him about after the weekend press conference.

“Call Emery,” he speaks softly into the phone, waving at a group of fans standing across the street. His handler opens the trailer and he steps inside, flopping in the seat closest to the door. He waits to see her face, surprised when she simply answers as a call, rather than a video chat.

“Hey, Jellybean!” Emery weakly exclaims. “You about done on set today?”

Chris reaches for the call sheet on the other end of the couch. Glancing over it, he replies, “Yeah, about another hour or two. They wanna reshoot one scene, but it shouldn’t take long-”
“Was that an actual ice cream shop, or a set? You know I want ice cream.”

“Fuckin’ internet… You’ve already seen fan photos, haven’t you?” Chris chuckles. “Yes, it was a real store.” Ice cream has been one of her pregnancy cravings, along with steak and Capn’ Crunch Peanut Butter cereal.  He can’t keep track of her favorites from week to week. Hell, it’s probably changed in the few days while I was gone to LA for Endgame promo. “What do you want me to bring home?”

“Something with toffee, and pecans.” She says the word in her funny little Southern drawl, ‘pea-CANS.’ “Buttery, vanilla, not chocolate. But, babe, don’t bring it home.” She clears her throat. Stronger, she tells him, “I need you to bring it to the hospital.”

Chris sits up tall, dropping both feet to the floor, ready to jump up in action. “Hospital! Emery, are you in labor? Why didn’t you call me!”

“You’re a nervous Nelly. And I knew you were looking forward to today’s shoot. Labor’s gonna take forever. The only thing you’ve missed so far is me throwing up, more than once, and sleeping.” She yawns, making a little puffing sound. “Real exciting stuff.”

Dammit, she would keep it to herself, not to worry me… Throwing open the trailer door, he waves the closest staffer over. Holding the phone between his ear and shoulder, he grabs the man’s clipboard and scribbles, ‘Labor. Leaving. Top Secret.’ Pushing the board back to the shocked man, he lunges for his keys on the counter, exiting the trailer in two large steps and slamming the door behind him. “Tell me everything,” he growls into the phone.

There’s a pause, and he can’t hear her over the sound of the crowd yelling at him. “Chris, relax. If you rush outta there like a mad man, it’ll be all over the Internet before you can even get here. I don’t want fans or press showing up here. We talked about that. Call me back when you get to the car. I promise, you’re not gonna miss the birth of our baby.”

She sounds tired, worn out. “Em? Is everything okay?”

“Just get here.”

The phone line goes silent. Staring at the phone, he can’t believe she hung up on him. Or called him a ‘nervous Nelly.’ What even is that Southernism? He shakes his head, and makes a beeline to another staffer, trying to remember his plan of attack if this situation came about this way. Quickly explaining his predicament, he asks the man to get the ice cream, telling him to come find the unmarked sedan on the back of the lot. Chris smiles wryly at the man’s confused expression as he turns towards the car that’s been provided to get him to and from set with little recognition.

As the man jogs away, one of the executive producers walks up to Chris, pointing him in the opposite direction. “I heard. Congratulations,” he offers, clapping his hand on Chris’s shoulder. “Tabby’s gonna drive you. That’ll help you pull yourself together. I’ll send John over with the ice cream.” He speaks into his walkie talkie, relaying a new delivery point for the pint. “You can get outta here in just a few minutes. She doin’ okay?”

Chris shrugs his shoulders, his face expressing his unease. “No clue. She hung up. I’m guessing Ma is with her, but no one told me anything. That’s pretty fucked up,” he mumbles.

“Man, relax, women been havin’ babies for centuries. At least it’s early, and you’re not on another continent…” Chris bows his head, realizing how lucky he is for this small favor. “Call me with the news, and we can shift some schedules around. Take the family time you need.” He pats Chris on the back, passing him off to Tabby, the set intern.

“Family,” Chris sighs, his heart swelling with pride.

***

Settled in the back of the car, ice cream rested next to his thigh, Chris calls Emery again.

His mother in law answers the call. “She’s sleeping, Chris. The medicines make her fall asleep at the drop of a hat, mid-sentence. Want me to wake her?”

“Anita, just tell me. What’s wrong? I’m trying to get there as fast as I can.” He calculates quickly. “Traffic, this time of day, I can make it over there in about thirty minutes.”

“Believe me, son. You’ve got time. This little one is gonna be just as stubborn as it’s Daddy. Baby E doesn’t wanna say hello just yet.”

He nervously wipes his beard, watching out the front window as the driver maneuvers around traffic.

“Chris, she’s okay. Her amniotic fluid started to leak while we were on our morning walk. She wasn’t really having contractions or anything, but we decided to call Dr. Puckett. She was already at the hospital and told us to come in.” She breathes out slowly. “Emery’s having contractions, small but not enough to move the delivery along. Because of all the troubles she’s had, the medical team decided to give her Pitocin to speed things up, not put any more stress on her body.” His mother in law sighs. “She’s strong, honey. She’s gonna be okay. The medicines made her sick, but she’s walked around some-

“Why didn’t anyone call?” He swallows hard, trying to hold back his irritation.

“You know her, she wouldn’t let us. Said you were working, and Dr. Puckett said things were going to be slow. She begged your mom and I not to call you-

“Let me talk to Ma,” he barks, hitting his head back against the seat.

His mom’s soothing voice immediately calms him. “Chris, sweetheart. Everyone’s fine. She wanted you to work. The doc agreed it was gonna be several hours. You’re gonna be here. Baby E will be a week or two early, but healthy, and it’ll give you something to talk about on the the press tour besides spilling Marvel secrets.” There’s noise and a low moaning, almost a whimper. He taps the back of the driver’s seat and motions to drive faster. When his mother speaks again, she tells him. “The doc just came in here now, and it looks like they’re gonna attach a monitor around her belly. She’s waking up and you’ll be able to see her when you get here.”

Screenshot_20190413-082802_Pinterest.jpg

With only the sack of ice cream in his hand, he jogs down the long hallway. He tips his hat low to avoid recognition. Other new fathers carry flowers or stuffed animals, and somewhere down the hallway, a small baby cries. Normally the activity in the maternity wing would make him smile, but today he can only focus on one thing. His wife.

His love. His life. His whole world.

Nearing the room, he spies Dr. Puckett ahead, looking over a patient chart with another nurse. He stands back, leaning against the wall, clearing his throat and waiting for her attention. She lifts her head at the sound, smiling. With a small, delicate motion of her hand, she waves him over. “Chris, good to see you.” She shakes his hand, and nods to the nurse at her side. “This is Amber, she’s the best. She’s been with Emery all day, and plans to stay through, all right?” He nods. “Have you seen her yet?”

Crumpling the bag tighter in his hand, he shakes his head no.

“She looks a little pale, but she’s tough. Her body isn’t responding to the Pitocin, and she’s only dilated about four centimeters. With the amniotic fluid leaking, she does run a risk of infection-”

“Doc, is she going to be okay? I don’t wanna be an ass, but we can make another baby or adopt, but God help me, if anything happens to her-”

Placing her hand on Chris’s arm, Dr. Jamie Puckett’s exhaustion shows on her face. “Emery is fine, I promise, but the baby’s heart rate is dropping. The nurses are going to come in soon, and prep her for a C-section. I know that wasn’t really the plan, but in order to keep baby and Mom safe, I think it’s best.”

“Does she know yet?” Chris asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

The doctor shakes her head. “No, I was waiting till you arrived. Why don’t you go see her for a few minutes, and then I’ll be in and we’ll go get Baby E. You’ll be holding your baby within the next few hours.”

Screenshot_20190413-082958_Pinterest.jpg

Chris stirs from his chair as the nurse comes in, the morning rounds just beginning.

“Sorry to wake you,” she whispers.

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he stands, his old bones creaking. Shit, maybe I’m too old for this Dad stuff, he thinks. “Didn’t get much rest.” The gravel in his voice is proof. He’d spent the night watching his wife and their tiny little one sleeping.

He needs coffee, in an IV, stat.

Memories of the night before flash through his mind, like a movie montage, nothing settled in place to seem real yet. The quiet afternoon, watching her sleep. Her strength and string of expletives when the epidural was administered. The rush to the operating room as both Emery’s and baby’s heart rates dropped. Suiting up in his new favorite uniform. Standing helpless, not wanting to see on the other side of the curtain. Holding their baby for the first time. Calling the mothers in for their first peek. The first attempt at breastfeeding.

The nurse checks some readings on the monitors, making notes in her charts. She quietly addresses Chris. “The pediatrician will be in soon, to check over the baby, and the lactation specialist. When your wife wakes-”

“I’m up,” says a sleepy voice. “Bring me my baby. And coffee. Can I have coffee? Like in an IV. Just inject it into my veins.”

Chris’s laughter draws her attention. He can see her struggle to turn to him. The drugs are still in her system, making all her movements sluggish.

“Hey, sexy Daddy. You thought the same thing, didn’t you?”

With tears in his eyes, he leans over and caresses his lips over her forehead. “You are mine, you know that, right?” The strong actor chuckles, weak in the knees. “You were made for me.”

hospital.JPG

Grabbing the collar of his t-shirt, she pulls him close, tenderly kissing his plump, inviting mouth. “Yeah, and together we made something special, a baby. Ours-” She kisses him again. “I want it, and I want coffee.”

The nurse giggles, “Now, Miss Emery,” she says calmly, like talking to a petulant child. “We talked about that yesterday. No coffee yet, not if you’re going to breastfeed.” She smirks at Emery’s huffing. “But you can take a sip or two of his.” She tilts her head to Chris, as he gently climbs into the hospital bed next to his wife.

“Fine. Bring him one. A big one. Thank you,” she says as a second thought, remembering her manners. The nurse drops the chart in the holder by the door. “Oh, can you get me a cheeseburger?” Emery calls out as the nurse leaves the room.

“Babe, it’s barely eight am.” Chris teases, cautiously lifting her upper body from the bed to tuck her to his side, his arm resting gently around her shoulders.

“Don’t care.” She scratches her cheek absently. The skin is swollen and red from an allergic reaction to the mask placed over her face during her surgery. “I had a baby last night. I want what I want.”

Sitting on the bed next to her, his exhausted, amazing wife settles against his chest. He breathes deeply, inhaling her scent, and he feels his world fall into place.

“I’m gonna be hearing about that for months, years, aren’t I?”

She pokes him in the ribs. “Big enough they had to cut it out. You made a tiny monster.” She giggles, loopy from medications. She rubs low across her belly, wincing as her hands near the bandages covering the incision. “Almost seven pounds. How was that even inside me? How is that even possible? No wonder complete strangers stopped to ask if I was having twins!”

“You know,” he says, twisting her fingers into his hand and raising them to kiss the back of her fingertips, careful not to bump her IV, “it’s not an ‘it’ now.”

baby E in hosp

“‘It’ has Daddy’s eyelashes.”

He chuckles, kissing the top of her head. “‘It’ has Mommy’s red hair.”

Before they can finish their verbal tease, she falls back to sleep peacefully. He continues to sooth his fingers through her hair, enjoying their last few minutes alone.

“Love you, forever, Em.” Squeezing her tightly, he lays back against the pillow, hoping to get some more rest of his own.

after baby cuddle

With the little bundle snuggled in his arms, wrapped tightly in a Captain America blanket, Chris steps into the lounge, full of family and friends. “Hey, everyone,” he says with enough authority to garner everyone’s attention, but not to wake the baby. “Thought you’d wanna meet Kaileigh Grace Evans.”

20190413_083303.jpg

Screenshot_20190413-083058_Pinterest.jpg

347a8227c7827b2adcb31d6b66b3bb00.jpg

Author’s Note: Remember in Surprises Ahead? Emery tells Chris, “Read it with a Southern accent. The first syllable? Rhymes with ‘thai.”

**Images found on Pinterest**

Story will update when Muse strikes. I actually wrote a baby story 3+ years ago, but in the vision I wrote from, I didn’t know the baby’s name or gender. In February 2019, the name just popped in my head one morning while I was in the shower! Until that moment, I had no idea if it was going to be a little boy or girl for the Evans’!

If you want to know more about Emery and Chris, read the novella Georgia on My Mind, and their additional stories

Copyright © 2019 avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

A Fine Gentleman

1551222312116.jpg

A Fine Gentleman

an Emery&Chris fanfic

by avenger-nerd-mom

Word Count: 4632

Warning: LEMON- oral sex, fingering, adult content, jealousy, pregnancy, language

Summary: Tired and worn out, Chris and Emery still manage to enjoy their limo ride after the Oscars.

*special thanks to TheWife101 for the photo edit*

Click here to read the first part of this story, Surprises Ahead

February 2019

The flash of lights blind and shouts echo in Emery’s ears. Fortunately the walk out after the awards show is shorter than the red carpet walk going into the Dolby Theater. Emery moves along quickly, not stopping to sign autographs or pose for quick selfies as her handsome husband ushers her along with speed. When the limo comes into view, she wobbles on her low sling-back heels, unable to hide her smile. She tugs the sleeve of Chris’s form fitting tux, and points. “Is that Henry?”  

Chris can’t hide his smile either. “You surprised?” He waves to the crowd, and they turn, allowing assembled press to snap a few more candid photos. Putting his hand on the small of her back, he gently pushes her forward. “Your chariot awaits.”

“Don’t we have to attend any after parties?” She asks, turning to wave at the group of adoring fans.

“Oh, I’m sure the studio execs won’t be happy, but I told them we had safety concerns, you needed rest and since I worked so hard,” he rolls his eyes, joking that presenting was a challenge. “I’d rather get away and relax instead. You need outta those shoes.”  

Looping her arm in his, she continues towards the car, patting the arm of his velvet suit. “Thanks. I appreciate when you get all ‘Papa Bear’ and watch over us.” Her free hand curves under her protruding belly. “You’re gonna make a great dad.”

“I hope so, Kitten,” he sighs, a hint of uncertainty and exhaustion in his voice.

The crowd is so loud, no one can hear their private conversation. Henry, Chris’s driver for events in LA, steps forward to take over protection as she turns and blows kisses to the crowd, shouting her appreciation and love as well to all his fans as he waves in return. Chris opens the car door and settles her in as Henry walks around the front of the car, readying the door for Chris. When her door closes, she kicks off her heels before settling the dress around her.

“Hey, beautiful.” Chris’s smooth baritone fills the car, warm and calm as the door closes, shutting out the roaring crowd.

“Hey, handsome!” As though it’s been hours, not mere seconds since they were last together. “Look at you, in a tux! You always get so dressed up to go pick up your dates?” She playfully tugs on his tie, unraveling it before letting it fall against his chest. Chris wraps his arms around her, finally relaxing in her hold.

He pulls back and his blue eyes wash over her face, and in the passing light of other cars, she can see his love. He caresses her red hair back, tangling his fingers in the cascade of curls over her shoulder. “Red,” he scoffs, before his lips tenderly land on hers. “Who’d have thought I’d fall for a redhead.” Having been apart for weeks, and still catching up the last few days together, the kisses increase with intensity quickly and a quiet moan escapes her lips as his hand glides down her exposed thigh and back up. Emery grips the lapels of his jacket, pushing him back against the seat as the limo speeds down the highway to their destination, wherever that might be.

“I missed you,” she breathes heavily.

He chuckles, “You saw me this morning.”

“It was too long ago,” she whispers. Her hand slides down from his neck and edges along the line of shiny buttons of his pressed shirt, following down to the waist of his pants.

“I missed you too,” he moans quietly against her ear.

“Show me,” she whispers, feeling bold behind the tinted window. She pushes him back, rising up on the leather seat, dropping one bare foot to the space between his legs. Her hand curves over his covered cock and he thrusts against her palm.  

With one hand, Chris holds her hip to help balance her round belly, while the other hand glides around the back of her leg. He squeezes and cups her ass, her cheeks barely covered by the skimpy little satin undies under the designer gown. “You feel good,” he whispers against her throat, his mouth igniting small fires all across her flesh.

His beard causes a light burn to her skin but she doesn’t care, as she continues to caress him through his pants. She’s missed him, missed his touch and wants him to know she needs him badly. She lowers her body, her lips back to his while he continues to run his fingers over her ass and down the space between her legs.

“You’re so warm,” he growls between kisses. “I bet you’re hot and wet.” His fingers nimbly shove the fabric to the side. Seeking permission, he asks, “Can I see?”

“God, yes,” she pants, wanting to feel his touch.

Chris slowly dips his longest finger inside her, and is met with an already pooling wetness, caused simply by being near him. She can hear his sigh and a change in his breathing as well. “So perfect,” he barely breathes out against my ear.

“Shh… Shut up,” she responds, shaking her head back, her body already quaking in his arms. “You talk too much.”

He chuckles again. He shifts on the seat so his arm can have more freedom to move under her flowing dress. And he uses that to his advantage, slowly sliding deep in and out, avoiding her clit. He pulls the wet up with a hooked finger and slides it over her outer lips, pushing against them, tugging at her skin. “I want you so bad…” The wide span of his large hand allows his other fingers to caress against her thighs at the same time. A jolt washes through her, and she chokes back a groan. Her head drops forward, resting on his shoulder and he breathes against her neck, whispering sweet words of affection and temptation.

He varies the rhythm with which he enters and pulls out, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, sometimes gentle, sometimes rough. Pulling all the way out, he slaps her ass and she finally releases a guttural moan. He shifts them on the leather seat as the city lights flash in the window, laying her back. Chris pulls her dress higher up on her waist, exposing her rounded pregnant belly and opening her to him. He rests his thigh between her open legs, changing positions to enter even deeper as he slides in a second finger. His digits remain deep as they continue to penetrate her, scissoring back and forth.  

Emery grabs the sleeve of his jacket, gripping his arm as she bucks against his hand. His touch and the friction of the satin panties against her tender lips has her writhing beneath him. She never takes her eyes from his face, watching the range of emotions cross his visage. Looks of love and lust as he gives to her.

She feels herself dripping around him, worrying the designer gown might be getting wet. She naturally squeezes her walls on his fingers and he begins to grind his palm against her mound. His other hand cradles the back of her neck as she thrusts up, aching to finish. A small squeak escapes from her lips and he murmurs, “Come for me, sweetheart, don’t hold back.”

His deep, smoky voice adds to her need to release. A few more thrusts, along with his other fingers squeezing her outer lips, and she lifts up for one final push against his palm. Her orgasm breaks and she squeezes him tightly as she comes all over his hand. He slows up his movements, matching her breathing as she comes back down, slowly sliding his hand out and repositioning her now dripping panties. He gently rubs his palm over her covered mound.  

“Beautiful; simply beautiful,” he murmurs, picking her up and placing her in his lap. “Hey, hey, are you okay?”

Tears well in her eyes and she shakes her head, giggling. “Yea, fucking fantastic… That was just…,” she nuzzles in tight against his neck, holding him close as he caresses his hands over her still quaking body. “Exactly what I needed.” She kisses his neck tenderly, reaching up to wipe away the pooled tears. “Stupid pregnancy hormones. Oh, honey, I’ve missed you so much… Thank you.”

“Well you don’t have to thank-”

“Excuse me,” a voice comes in through the speakers. Emery blushes and hides her face in his blue velvet coat.

Chris eyes her with concern and replies, “What’s up, Henry?”

“Boss, just wanted to let you know we’re about fifteen minutes from our destination. Is she hungry?”

“Always,” Emery mumbles. “Burgers would be great!” She yells through the intercom.

Chris holds her close, hiding his smile in her hair. “Thanks, Henry.”

Righting them on the back seat again, he lifts her chin, reading the expression on her face. “He couldn’t hear us; you don’t have to be embarrassed.”

Emery slides off his lap and reaches for napkins from the mini-bar. Stuffing them under her dress, he helps her delicately clean between her legs. “I know… It’s,” she sighs.  “Any of our assistants always know what’s going on, so it’s logical for him to think-”

“Yea, he’s gonna think that we did something. I’m in the backseat of a limo, after an awards show, with the hottest lady in town.” She frowns and he covers her hand with his, running his thumb over the sparkling diamond on her finger before giving a gentle squeeze. “He can think whatever the fuck he wants, but we’re the only ones that have to know…” Chris opens the mini fridge, and twisting the top off a beer, takes a drink before reaching in to offer a bottle of water to her. He looks down into her sweet face. “I make no apologies for how I feel about you, and for wanting to show you how much I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Chris.” She scratches the scruff on his chin. “You’re right. It shouldn’t matter what we do. What matters is that it’s right for us, what we want.”

Putting his arm around her neck and tucking her back to his side, he sighs. “Besides, we’re married,” he chuckles, resting his hand on her plump belly.

She sighs happily, snuggling into his chest and reaching her arm under his coat to rest her hand on his waist. “Best decision I ever made,” she giggles.

He laughs, kissing the top of her head. “Are you sure? The other day you told me you weren’t even sure you liked me.” He teases, reminding her of their discussion about surprises,  caressing down the back of her arm. His tone drops. “And I saw you talking to Momoa.”

Emery chuckles. “Christopher Evans, are you seriously jealous?”

“You had your hands all up his pink velvet jacket, and he was rubbing your pregnant belly!” Chris practically shouts.

“God, that man is like a solid brick wall, I swear.” She can hardly bite back her laughter.

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Indignance rings through his voice.

Emery blanches at the reference. “Ew, stop.” She swallows hard, just the words making her feel ill. “Chris, he saw I wasn’t feeling well and was just being friendly. He was telling me about how Lisa dealt with her morning sickness, and he gave me a peppermint he had in his pocket. I swear,” she crosses her fingers over her heart, “you are the only superhero for me.”

He’s still grumbling and complaining moments later, when the car comes to a stop and they lurch forward. Henry’s voice comes back through the intercom. “After I deliver you two, I’ll drive back out and get some food.”

“Don’t worry about it, Henry. We’ll order in. Thanks for getting us here safe, man. I can always count on you.” Chris reaches up to click off the intercom. “You know I’m not done with you tonight. Flirting with other men, DC men? You deserve to be punished for that…” He wiggles his eyebrow, laughing and shaking his head.

“I flirted with Rudd too, but that’s a given.” She smirks.

Chris playfully pinches her arm.

“What?” She rubs the spot on her arm. “You were looking at JLo’s ass. You can’t even deny that. Shit, you could bounce a quarter off it.” She awkwardly twists on the bench seat. “Think my ass will ever be tight again?”

Squeezing her back side, he says, “I have no complaints about your ass.” He shakes his head and points to the dark window in front of them, silently indicating to the driver. “If we order delivery, we don’t actually have to see anyone we know for a few days.”

Emery leans back against the seat. “I like the idea of being alone, just us. In another few months, we won’t have a lot of time for that.” She tilts her head, looking out the tinted windows to their location. “Where exactly have you whisked me away this time?”

Chris hands her the shoes, tangled at his feet. “Stay in the car till I come around; you’ll see.”

He exits the car and she takes another drink of her water, giggling at his jealousy. Like he has any worries. She’s not going anywhere, perfectly content with her crazy, happy life.

Muffled through the closed vehicle, she hears Chris talking to Henry, but can’t make out the words. She jumps when he places his hand on the window. “You’ve looked it all over, it’s safe, now go the hell away. I know you’re just watching out for us, but we don’t need chaperones,” he laughs, opening the door for her. “Emery?” He reaches his hand in, and she takes it, as he helps her gracefully out of the limo.

Chris laughs, his breath warm on his neck, holding her close as Henry drives away.

“Chris, what is this place? It’s beautiful.”

The secluded house sits behind a line of trees, a small Spanish- style stucco ranch. In the distance, Emery can hear waves crashing along the shore. The heavenly aroma of hibiscus blooms reach her nose, hanging from the pergola over the front entry. Bright lights shine behind the stained-glass front doors, but the rest of the house is dark.

“It’s ours for the next few days. A friend of mine, he’s out filming on location and he’s never here; he’s letting us use it.” He takes her hand, leading her up to the front porch. “I feel like this should be more dramatic, like I should carry you in, or something.”

She blushes, running her hand over her pregnant belly. “It’s okay, Chris, really. I wouldn’t want you to trip and drop us, or something.”

She follows him up the front steps, leaning on his shoulder as he opens the door and welcomes her in. The foyer is grand, with a large display of fresh flowers and her suitcases and his bags next to a set of winding stairs leading to the upper level. He dips his head, “Hey, I didn’t really get a chance to admire you in that dress… Turn so I can see you.”

She follows his direction and the train of the dress wraps around her feet. Slightly dizzy from the dramatic turn, she rests her palm on the marble table to balance herself. “Not my favorite part of the job,” she admits. “Actor’s wife. Getting all dressed up, like a child’s doll. This is-”

“Amazing. Stunning. Perfection.” Chris finishes her sentence. Taking his phone from an inner pocket on his suit coat, he reaches up and snaps a photo of the two of them together.

Emery giggles. “Yea. I can’t just pull it off. That’s gonna take a few minutes. Actually,” she looks down the front of her dress, “I’m taped and pinned in this thing. It’s not as sexy as you’d think.”

“Then we think very differently, cause you look sexy as hell.” In a quick motion, he moves in front of her, his warm, calloused hands reaching under the edges of the plunging v-neck gown. Sliding up, his thumbs press against her breast bone as his fingertips work their way under the moss green chiffon dress. The color looks amazing with her hair and the gauzy design looks something like a Roman Goddess would wear. His goddess. When his hands glide over her swollen breasts, her breath catches and he stops to circle his palms, her nipples pebbling under his command. His eyes follow his movement while she watches his hands, the veins in his wrists, her skin tightening into goosebumps when his cold cufflinks drag across her skin. His hands continue their worshipping ascent, pushing the cloth back as he nears her throat.

Exposed, her nipples harden in the cool air, tingling and tight, wanting more of his touch. Wanting his mouth. She wants his beautiful, lush lips on her, sucking her. “Chris, I-”

“Shhh…” He slowly pushes the straps down her shoulders, letting it fall from her arms. “Let me admire you…”

He steps forward, reaching around behind her back to find the small zipper between her shoulder blades. Her pregnant belly makes the reach further around than usual, but his lush velvet jacket pushes against her exposed breasts and she gasps. Pulling her arms free from her dress, she slides her hands between them, struggling with the buttons on his tuxedo coat. He leans closer, trapping her hands between them and whispers in her ear. “There’s time for that later. No rush, my dear, my sweet Kitten.”

Slowly, painfully, his hands slide the zipper down the back of her dress. As it opens over her rounded ass, it finally falls to the ground. Free of her confines, and save for the skimpy satin underwear, she stands before him, completely naked.

Chris steps back and sucks in his breath. “So beautiful… and all mine.” His hand wraps around her wrist, pulling her to him, stepping over the discarded gown. He looks down to the pile of green organza at their feet. “Stunning, but this is the way you should always be… naked.” He cocks his head, furrowing his brow. “I’ve never seen you look more beautiful than you do right now, Em. Pregnancy is a good look for you.” He steps closer. He reaches his hands through her fiery red hair, tangling his fingers in the loose romantic coiff of curls and small plaits, pulling out pins and tossing them to the floor. She reaches up to help, but the look he shoots stops her. “So many pins,” he chuckles quietly, turning her around and bowing her head forward to unpin the back of her hair. She smiles, feeling it cascade down her back, tickling her shoulders. With her eyes raised, she watches them in a mirror across the entryway. She looks small and submissive next to his striking form, regal and gallant in his tux. Arranging the curls down her back, his hands brush over her skin, and she can see the wicked smile on his face, reflected in the mirror. He looks up and their eyes meet. “There she is… My girl. My Emery.” Possession. Pride.

He lifts her arm, twisting it to kiss the freckles on her shoulder. He runs his hand down her arm, pulling the Harry Winston bracelet off and tossing it on the table with a clink. “What’s that little smile on your face? You look like the cat who licked the cream.”

“Not yet,” she blushes, giggling and dropping her head. His eyes pop and he laughs as she’s embarrassed. “Shit; did I say that? Oh, God.” She rubs her forehead.

“I’m going to hold you to that promise,” he says wickedly.

She giggles, turning to face him, helping him to remove his cufflinks, and he tosses them, along with his watch, on the table as well.

He licks his lips before capturing her pretty mouth. Emery moans at his onslaught, loving the taste of the beer that clings to his tongue. She can feel his lips curve to a smug smile at her reaction. She tries to catch his bottom lip, but he keeps pulling away from her, teasing her. Instead, he captures hers, tugging and pulling it between his teeth, flicking his tongue across the tender flesh. He attacks her with his lips, teeth and tongue, using his hand to hold her sweet face in place. “I love the little moans and whines you make… Can you feel what you do to me?”

Emery sighs, murmuring against his mouth, his clothed cock hard against her thigh. His mouth continues to claim hers as his hands roam down her sides, caressing her heavy belly, reaching between her thighs. She instinctively moves her legs apart for Chris to better reach her inner folds. He drags his finger back and forth over the wet silk covering her mound. Gripping the elastic, he gives a little tug, jostling her against him. The brush of her bare breasts against the velvet lapels of his suit increases her desire, each touch feeding her fire. She pushes into him, wanting his caress. She’s already dripping, still wet from their play in the limo. She gasps when he pushes the fabric aside, sliding his finger into her sweet hole. He holds her up tightly with his other hand when her knees collapse. “Chris, please,” she moans. “I can’t… I can’t support myself.”

He chuckles, his breath hot in her hair as he whispers, “I’ve got you,” before nibbling at her earlobe.

“Take me to bed,” Emery whines. “I need you, I need this.”

“No rush, love,” he repeats, watching their reflection in the mirror.  

She can see little marks forming along her neck, from the repeated bitings she’s received, and watches Chris’s hand disappear inside her silk panties. His eyes connect with hers in their reflection and she sees the look of triumph cross his face as he slips in another finger, sinking deep inside her. He pumps in and out slowly, then rough, then slow again, his mouth biting at her shoulder. His other hand grasps her breast and rolls her taut nipple between his calloused fingers. “Oh, fuck, Chris. That’s it, that’s-”

She can’t finish her thoughts as the wave of another orgasm starts to pulse through her body and he pulls away from her.

“Chris!” she whimpers. “Don’t stop!”

He laughs, the sound echoing in the dark, empty foyer as he drops to his knees, pushing her against the marble table. Yanking her panties down her legs, Chris burrows his tongue into the spot recently vacated by his fingers and rapidly laps up her juice, fucking her with his mouth. His beard burns against her tender skin. Her cries and mewling increase as she pulls at his hair.

She looks down to her favorite sight. Chris Evans, her husband, on his knees, just for her. His hands grab her ass and guide her closer to him. Just a few quick flicks with his skilled muscle and she breaks, coming on his tongue, filling his mouth. Chris moans against her, his vibrations completing her. He slows, gently bathing her with his tongue now, as she slowly floats back to reality, sinking down into his waiting arms.

“Chris,” she sighs, sated and exhausted, “are you planning to kill me before we even get to the bedroom?”

Chuckling, he wraps his arm around her back and lifts behind her knees, “We’re just getting started,” he promises.

She curls her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. “Don’t wear me out before we even begin,” she warns.

Even with her added baby weight, Chris scales the stairs quickly and confidently, flicking on the hall light at the top of the steps. He walks down the hall, peeking in various rooms.

She lifts her head and looks at him. “Do you even know where we’re going?”

“Shhh…” He bites her shoulder playfully. His tone teases, “I try to make this big, romantic gesture, and you’re making jokes.”

She kisses his cheek. “Would you have me any other way?”

“Perfect, just the way you are…” He finds the room he was searching for, and reaches in, turning on the lights. A muted glow fills in behind him as she kicks out her foot, stopping him from going through the door.

“Chris?” She breathes out slowly. “You’re overdressed for the occasion. Can you put me down please?”

Kissing her forehead, he complies with her request, sliding her body down against his. “Are you planning to remedy that?”

Reaching for the buttons on his coat, she undoes them one by one. Sliding her hands up over his chest, she glides the jacket from his shoulders, letting it land at their feet. She grabs the tie hanging loosely around his neck and lays it around hers, the ends resting atop the curve of her breasts. Emery looks up, his eyes on her hands. She tugs the ends, and drags her fingertips over her nipples, causing her to shiver as they peak at her own touch. He smiles down at her and rests his hands on her hips. “That could be fun later,” he taunts.

“Not long enough to hold me in place,” she laughs, speaking from experience. Her scent on his beard overwhelms her and she feels another rush of wetness between her legs. Stepping forward, she squints her eyes to undo the tiny button at his neck. “How the fuck did your large hands fasten this thing?” she grumbles. Finally getting it loose, she drives her hands down the row of buttons, popping each one loose and teasing over his skin with a light touch of her hands. She smiles when he sucks in his breath as she yanks the shirttail from the waist of his pants, undoing the final one.

“Speed it up, you’re killing me.” He sighs heavily.

“Not yet,” she winks. “‘No rush, love.’ Isn’t that what you said?”  She slowly runs her hands over his chiseled torso, admiring the way his pale skin moves under her touch, tracing over his new tat. Reaching up, skimming under the collar of the shirt, she pushes it down over his broad shoulders and lets it fall to the floor, landing on top of his jacket.

Helping her with the belt buckle, he chuckles when she slaps his hands away. “I should haul you over my lap and spank your ass; using my words against me.”

Freeing the snap on his pants, she breathes warmly against his chest. “I might like that.” She cocks her eyebrow and smiles wickedly as she carefully lowers to her knees in front of him.

“Saucy little thing, aren’t you?” His head drops back against the doorframe and he leans his upper body back, straining his hips forward for her touch.

Quickly she fumbles with his shoes and socks, moving them aside. With quick hands, Emery pulls the zipper down, her palm cupping under him. Gently she squeezes his balls and blows a hot breath across his covered cock. He clears his throat and shifts his hips, pushing himself against her hand. “‘Kitten?”

“Hmmm,” she hums absently, letting go and reaching up for the waistband of his pants. The back of her hand grazes the sensitive skin on his lower belly, earning a groan from him. The heat throbs between her legs at the animalistic, hungry sound. His momentary lack of control fires her up, knowing she makes him feel just as hot and needy. “Such a fine gentleman, letting me come first…” Clawing at the rich, dark fabric, she pushes his dress pants down the length of his legs, ready to suck on his thick, veiny cock. “No rush at all,” she murmurs before sucking him between her plump, red lips.

Click here to read Late Night Snack

If you want to know more about Emery and Chris, read the novella Georgia on My Mind, and their additional stories

Copyright © 2019 avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

Surprises Ahead

20190222_093818.jpg

Surprises Ahead

An Emery&Chris story

By avenger-nerd-mom

Word Count: 3137

Warnings: Language, Domestic Fluff, so cute it’s sickening

Summary: Emery is fed up with snowy Boston winters and misses her hard working husband.

Previous Chapter, Christmas Presents

February 2019

Tired from a long morning on set, and travel, actor Chris Evans really just wants to crawl in bed and sleep for a few hours. But there’s more work to be done before he can rest. Turning into a familiar spot, he places the car in park, just as his phone begins to ring. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he doesn’t even bother with hellos. “Hey, Kitten, I was just getting ready to call you. I-”

“Christopher Robert!” Emery’s voice shrills through the connection. “You called Dr. Puckett’s office?”

Removing his sunglasses, he rubs his hands over his face. “Shit, they told?” He rests his head against the plush headrest, not really surprised.

“Of course they did. They had strict orders not to give out any information, in case I was being followed to appointments by paparazzi, or whatever.” She huffs and the sound of metal clangs.

“What are you doing?” He asks, sitting up and shifting in the seat. He looks around his surroundings and frowns. “You’re not supposed to be moving around too much.”

“For your information, I had to pee. Baby E is pressing on my bladder. I went to the bathroom, is that okay with you?” Even her Southern drawl is unable to hide the irritation in her voice.

He bites back his chuckle, stretching his legs and pulling the key from the ignition. “I suppose, if you must.” He laughs when she calls him an ‘asshole’ under her breath, his favorite term of endearment. “What’s the other noise I hear?”

Emery sighs. “I’m doing laundry. I was sick, again, this morning, so the sheets needed to be washed. And I’m supposed to get some movement in during the day. I was going to finish this up, eat some lunch, and then take a nap. Hopefully dream about my favorite actor,” she giggles. “He’s kinda cute.”

“You are talkin’ about me, right? I’m still your favorite?” Chris reaches for the bag in the front seat next to him. Getting the conversation back on the original track, he says, “Okay, so I get the doctor’s office isn’t supposed to give out information, but I’m your husband. They even asked for the password, in case I was scamming them. That was good thinking, by the way.” He climbs down out of the rented SUV, and stretches his legs. “You seriously told them not to tell me anything without a written note and video approval?”

He shakes his head, remembering the phone call with the office staff yesterday. He’d made the secretary repeat herself. ‘Yes, Mr. Evans. Sorry, it says here in the chart you are, and I quote, ‘a sneaky liar and can charm anyone’ and we aren’t supposed to give you that information without a written note and video. And if you question it, we are supposed to tell you the video is required in case you might try to forge your wife’s signature.’

Downey had a good laugh over that one, knowing his young bride had his number pegged. ‘Man, she’s got you by the balls. I knew I liked her!’

He reaches for his bag from the back seat, and slings it over his shoulder.

The washer door clangs. “I knew you’d get itchy and want to know. I can’t believe you tried to go behind my back and ask MY doctor the sex of our baby.” He hears the plastic basket drop to the ground. “It’s the first time I’m ever gonna get a surprise and know I’m gonna love it, no matter what it is.”

“I was a surprise,” he says, balancing the paper sack in his arms and reaching for another key in his pocket. “You weren’t expecting me to answer your dating profile.”

“Evans, I’m still not sure I like you,” she sneers. “You know I hate surprises. Oh shit. Hang on. I’m gonna have to call you back. Someone’s ringing the doorbell.”

“It’s probably Joanna’s kid. Wasn’t he supposed to come by and shovel the driveway today?”

“Yeah, but he had three other jobs lined up too. How can I hang up if you’re still talking to me?” He can hear her patter towards the door and he can’t wipe the smile from his face.

The door flies open and a blast of cold Boston air pushes her hair back, loose tendrils swirling around her. “Chris!”

Wrapping his free hand around her waist, Chris gently picks her up off the ground and carries her back a step or two. He kicks the door closed with his solid boot and sets the food down on the stairs before wrapping his other hand under her tousled hair. “God, I’ve missed you. I hope you don’t mind this surprise.”

Placing her on the ground, he bends to kiss her lips tenderly, sucking in her breath. He laughs at the salty tears streaming down her face and kisses the tip of her nose. “I missed you too much, Kitten,” he whispers.

She grabs his sweater and buries her face in his chest, inhaling deeply. “Oh honey, this is the best surprise yet. I really wasn’t expecting you. I was getting too worried about flying to LA alone.” She steps closer and wraps her arms around him, digging her hands in his back pockets. “You smell so good. I need this. Need you.”

He sways on his feet, rocking her gently side to side, to a silent rhythm only he hears. His hands caress over her tangled hair, and he kisses the top of her head. Several moments pass, before a quiet ‘meow’ is heard on the stairs and a little paw scratching at the bag.

“I know you hate surprises. But are you up for another one?” He turns her slightly to see the bag in question. The cat turns and runs away.

“Tasty Burger?” She smiles, her nose sniffing the air. “What’s in the sack?”

Chris grabs her hand in his, and the bag with the other, leading her to the kitchen. “I didn’t know what you’d want, so I got a selection. Fries and onion rings, the chicken parm sandwich and some burgers. And a chocolate milkshake.” He reaches into the large bag, pulling out the peace offering and handing it to her.

She takes a sip, the thick, chocolatey nirvana slowly reaching her lips. She looks down into the large bag, pulling out a sack of fries. “All of it. I want all of it,” she says, grabbing an onion ring looped over some fries. Emery tucks her hand under her growing belly and pulls herself onto the bar stool at the counter bar. “I’m not kidding. I want some of the chicken parm and a burger.”

Chris taps her ass, turning around and taking a knife from the block by the stove. “Fine. We’ll share.” He hands her the utensil. “You cut and decide which part you want, I’ll eat the other half.”

“Which burger?” she asks, nibbling on a fry and unwrapping the chicken sandwich.

Walking to the fridge, Chris opens the matte silver doors and gets two water bottles. “The one with bacon? I think it has gorgonzola cheese on it.”

“What kinda weird Italian crap is that? We don’t have that down South. Kraft and Velveeta. That’s what goes on a burger.” She smiles, teasing him, licking the tomato sauce from the chicken sandwich from her thumb. Biting into the crispy chicken, a glob of the sauce dribbles from her lip. Chris reaches over and tenderly scoops it off, licking his own thumb.

“You’re adorable when you pretend to hate it up here. But Scott sent me pictures of you playing in the snow the other day with Carly and the kids. Admit it, you love it?” Chris asks, hopeful she does indeed love his hometown as much as he does.

“I just wasn’t expecting you to be gone so much this winter, while I’m pregnant. That’s all. I hate feeling like everyone has to take care of me.” Emery chows down another bite of the chicken sandwich, breaking off the stringy cheese with her finger. “I don’t know my way around yet, and Shanna and your mom watch me like a hawk. No one will let me drive in the snow… I don’t feel very independent.”

Chris nods, understanding. “I have a job down South, in a few weeks. Would you like to go home, stay in Savannah, see your family?” He takes a handful of fries, under her watchful eye, and shoves them in his mouth.

Her eyes light up as she bites into an onion ring, pulling the onion from the fried casing. “I’d love that, but we have to see what Dr. Puckett says.” She drops the onion on her plate, but eats the crispy coating. “She was already a little nervous about me flying in a few days.”

“So am I,” he admits. “That’s why I’m home early. I don’t want you flying alone. All of your flight details have been changed, Lucy took care of it.” He looks away from her glare. “I know you hate the idea of your own personal assistant, but it’s been a big help, as long as you keep her in the loop. She’s gotta know your speaking engagements at schools so you aren’t double booked like you were with that magazine interview.”

“I got along just fine handling everything, I still don’t see it’s necessary.” Her new PA annoys her, but she’ll admit, she hasn’t really given the younger woman a chance yet.

“You have pregnancy brain, and keep forgetting things, Em,” he says softly, caressing her arm. “After the baby comes, and the press tour and baby stuff is all over, we can let her go if you really don’t feel you need her. But it makes me feel better knowing you have someone else looking out for you.”

Emery purses her lips. “Okay. Fine.” Her voice is not fine. “She’s temporary. So what changes did you two make without telling me?”

Chris swallows hard, pulling his hand back. “Point heard. Ok? We’ll talk things out. I just wanted to come home, and surprise you. I thought it would be a nice surprise?” He looks at her with puppy dog eyes and smiles when she nods her head. “We can fly out Tuesday, after we see Dr. Puckett, or we can wait and go Wednesday like you originally planned, but we’ll go out to LA together. You still have fittings for your dress Thursday, but the rest of the week is just us, relaxing.” He picks bacon from his sandwich, savoring the smokey flavor. He keeps quiet, holding out another secret from her. He doesn’t want to ruin the surprise that the Downeys and Ruffalos are planning a baby shower for her Friday night when they’re all in LA together. He nibbles another piece of the bacon. “I don’t know when my rehearsals are scheduled yet. Fuck, I hate presenting.”

“Oh, but you look so damn good in a tux. So confident. The Oscars are kinda boring, but watching you makes it fun. It always has for me.”

“Well, at least one of us enjoys it.” Chris stands on the rung of the bar stool and reaches across the counter top. “What’s this?”

“More names, just scribbles really.” Taking a big bite of the burger, Emery moans appreciatively. “That’s good shit,” she whispers. “Gorgonzola. Who would have guessed?” Going in for another bite, she quickly drops it onto the wrapper, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Oh my, God. I know. I have her name! It came to me the other day.”

“I thought we already decided,” Chris says, dragging a fry through the tomato sauce on the chicken parmesan sandwich. Deciding on baby names has been a constant give and take between the pair, trying to come up with something ‘just right.’

“No, you liked it, and I said no combination with anything remotely similar to any ex’s name. That really rules out a lot of names, Babe.”

He playfully swats her shoulder. “So you’re thinking that bump is a girl now?” Chris rubs his hands over her belly, grinning when he feels a little kick.

“I think it’s a soccer team. Whatever it is, it kicks too damn much, makes me pee all the time,” she happily caresses the bump, “and I’m still not over morning sickness yet.”

“This will be a fun flight to LA.” He bemoans quietly, withering from her glaring look.

Emery rolls her eyes and pulls a pen from her hair, her coppery red curls cascading around her shoulders. “Here.” She scribbles something on the page, tearing off the corner and handing it to Chris. “We’re agreed on a middle name, right?” He nods. “Read that. Tell me what you think?”

Looking at the paper he says the name she’s written.

She shakes her head. “No, that’s not right. Read it with a Southern accent. The first syllable? Rhymes with ‘thai.’”

Chris hides his smirk. “If we give her a ‘southern accent name’ no one is ever going to say it right.” He tries again, following her advice.

She grins. “Say it again. With the middle name. The whole thing.” He does, adding the middle name they’ve agreed on and their surname Evans, and she beams with pride. “Don’t you love it?”

He holds back his thoughts, seeing her happiness. “Ok, I wanna hear you say it.” Coming from her lips, the name sounds so much better, with a distinct Southern charm. “Emery, I don’t know… It is, it is very pretty. But this spelling?” He holds up the scrap of paper. “I thought you wanted to make sure to have a ‘normal’ name, seeing how students with difficult names often struggle with it in school.”

“Anyone with language studies could figure out the phonetics, besides, her father is Captain America. Her name will have been heard in interviews, written in magazines, many times before she even starts school.” She takes another french fry. Midchew, she stops and yawns. “Will you at least think about it? I really love it.”

He nods, wrapping up the leftover food. Stealing the milkshake, he takes a long drag from the straw. He’s pretty sure they’ve just decided the name, if Baby E is a little girl. Lord help him, they’d both have him wrapped around his fingers!

He doesn’t really care, as long as the baby is healthy, but deciding a name is so daunting. So many factors involved, and ultimately the name becomes part of the child’s personality. He’s grown used to the name Emery’s presented for a son, based on her family’s traditions, since before they even talked about having children, but their discussion of girl names keeps going back and forth. The list of scribbled names on the pad in front of him is an indication of their indecisiveness.

Until this new name, this name that rhymes with ‘thai’ as the first syllable.

The name that easily rolled off his beautiful wife’s tongue, sounding so right to his ears.

“Have you screamed it yet?”

Emery smiles. “Echoes through the house perfectly. She’ll know when her little behind is in trouble.”

Chris laughs, remembering her mother’s advice. ‘Just make sure it’s a name that rolls easily when you scream it, when you’ve gotta let that kid know he’s in trouble and better come running.’

“Did you check the monogram?”

She swats his arm again, sticking out her tongue. She’d already turned down three names, knowing the monogram would be awful. She’s a Southern momma. Baby E is gonna be swaddled in monograms! She blushes. “It’s not great, but it was like this little voice was saying it to me, like she’s telling me her name.” She rubs her hands lovingly over her belly.

“You heard it, huh?” He asks, doodling the monogram on the pad of paper. He can’t control his gut busting laugh, slapping his hand to his chest for her benefit. “Oh, that’s rich, honey!” He laughs louder as she joins in. “Our brothers are gonna have a field day with that.” When his laughter dies down, he wipes his eyes. “And you swear you didn’t ask Puckett if it’s a boy or girl?”

She crosses her heart. “I swear. And based on old wives tales, I have no idea. It comes out 50/50 every time we swing my ring over my belly, or do the pencil thing.” She shrugs. “The pencil test shows the miscarriage, a boy and a girl.”

Chris rolls his eyes at the legends of the old ways. “Emery, please tell me you don’t believe all that.”

Her voice drops. “Your aunties sure make it seem real.”

“If it was real, Shanna would have five sons by now,” he reminds her, unable to hide his skepticism.

“Whatever.” She yawns, tugging her hands through her wild mane of hair, trying to settle it. “I like the name. It means you can’t tell your mom.” Emery looks at him pointedly. “I like this one. Don’t ruin this name. You know that’s why your number one choice is no longer on the table, right?”

He bows his head. “I know. I got too excited,” he confesses. “But when she starts asking me questions, sometimes I can’t help myself.”

Sneaking the last fry from his wrapper, she smiles. “Just do what I do. I’ve been telling my mom we’re naming the baby ‘Brady,’ regardless of the gender.” She wads up her napkin. “That went over well with her church group.” She giggles. “I think they’re praying for us now. One of the ladies, my old Sunday School teacher, sent a quilt she made, Patriots colors, and wished us luck on our Yankee baby.” She laughs, pointing to the pile of gifts on the table. “Some things from your family are there, too. Names I didn’t recognize, so we need to open them together.” Emery yawns again.

“Maybe later, after you nap.” Chris helps her down off the stool. “The couch, or upstairs?”

Emery pats his arm, reaching for the sack of remaining food, and puts it in the fridge. “I try not to go up and down the stairs any more than I have to.” She turns back around and drinks down the last of the milkshake. “The couch in the office,” she nods down the hallway, “is wide. I’ve been taking naps there. It’s big enough we can snuggle down together?”

Aiming his napkin for the trash can, he shoots. It bounces off the side and lands on the floor. Blushing, he rushes up to it, retrieving his trash and dropping it in. “A nap sounds like the perfect way to spend a winter afternoon.” Turning off the kitchen light, he places his hand on the small of her back. “Lead the way, little Momma.”

SCROLL DOWN FOR MORE INFO AND LINK TO NEXT STORY!

In case I never get around to writing the baby shower the Downeys and Ruffalos had, this is Chris and Emery, getting ready for a date night. She had no idea he was taking her to a surprise party!

baby shower.jpg

And in case you wondered, this was how Chris announced to the world they were pregnant:

announcement.jpg

Click here to read A Fine Gentleman, part two of Oscars 2019

Copyright © 2019 avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Snow Fun

snow fun jan 14 2019

Snow Fun

An Emery&Chris story

By avenger-nerd-mom

*Since I’m home sick with strep throat, how about a little Emery drabble?*

Word Count: 1726

Summary: Pregnant Emery can’t enjoy the slopes during the New Year holiday, so she keeps busy with online shopping and cocoa with Scott

Previous Chapter, Bun in the Oven

January 2019

“What are we looking at?” Scott asks, rounding the corner of the couch with two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands.

Emery doesn’t even look up from her phone screen as he eases down on the couch next to her. “That smells like heaven.” She smiles, holding out her hand for the mug.

“Careful, don’t burn yourself,” he advises, leaning onto his side to pull a box of cookies from the large front pocket of his hoodie.

She flicks her thumb over the pile of whipped cream atop the steamy mug and quickly licks it away. “He assigned you to babysitting duty?” she teases.

Scott rolls his eyes, peeling back the sleeve of cookies and offering her one. “I volunteered. I had enough of their testosterone on the slopes yesterday.” He shoves the whole cookie in his mouth and moans in delight. “I swear they were ready to start a pissing contest to see who could write their name best in the snow.”

Laughing, Emery pats his arm. “No contest, the Evans boys are the biggest dicks I know.”

“Hey! I’m not a dick, I have a big d-,” he boasts, tugging down on his jeans. He edits himself, withering under her heated glare. “Jeesuz, you put up with a lot of shit from us,” he laughs, resting his head against her shoulder.

She kisses the top of his head. “Cuz I love you both.” Emery turns the phone to him. “I’m looking at stuff for the baby’s room. Tracking orders.”

“You don’t have the new house yet. Where’s it going to?” Scott takes her phone and flips through the pictures.

She points to the rocking chair she adores. “Chris picked that out. He says it’s like the one he remembers at Nonna Capuano’s when he was little.” Scott looks closer at the phone. “All the stuff so far is in your mom’s garage.”

Scott nods. “It does look like the one she had, that’s pretty amazing.” He continues to look at the pictures while she breathes down his neck. “That crib is beautiful. It converts when the baby’s older?”

Finishing a sip of the hot chocolate, she dips her head. She points to the back of the crib. “Yea, this part detaches and becomes a headboard for a toddler bed. But the baby won’t be using that for awhile. Carly is giving us the baby bassinet back with all the proper bedding, so the baby will sleep in our room for awhile.”

“Every Evans baby has slept in it,” Scott says quietly.

She brushes his arm tenderly. “Don’t be that way. Your life is no different, you can surrogate, or adopt. We’ll keep the bassinet in use for a few years, and then you can have it.”

He raises his eyebrow before popping another cookie in his mouth. “And just how many little Evans babies do you plan to make, Miss Emery?”

Patting her belly and smoothing her hand over the stretched out Pats jersey, she sighs warmly. “Two or three? I don’t know. Depends on how much trouble this one is, and what Chris really decides to do with his career after hanging up the shield.”

Scott offers the lovely pregnant woman another cookie. “You still upset he took all the jobs this winter and spring?”

She furrows her brow and twists on the couch to get comfortable. At 26 weeks along, she can’t ever seem to be comfortable anymore. She remembers their small tiffs over taking extra jobs. The Greenland job was supposed to film in October, and kept getting pushed back. She shakes her head, straightening out her leg in front of her.  “Your brother had a typical ‘I’m gonna be a dad’ freak out moment, and started worrying about how to pay for a kid. No, I’m not mad he took extra work. And I can still travel some, to go be with him. And I have family in Birmingham, so that’s a plus.” She taps a quick note on a memo pad feature on her phone. “I just don’t wanna be in the new house without him. That’s where we’re really supposed to start our life together, it’s truly ours.”

“He’s a cheapskate and you still clip coupons. How can he freak out about money?”

She laughs, throwing her hands to her thighs, barely reaching over her belly. “Because your brother can be a troublesome worry wart. I told him if all else fails, he can be a stay at home dad, and I’ll go back to teaching full time.” She begins to rock forward on the couch, trying to get leverage.

Scott laughs and pushes her ass up. “God, that could be reality TV gold. Chris trying to Mr. Mom all day.” He chuckles, his eyes glazed over as he pictures it. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

She brushes the cookie crumbs away that landed on her little belly shelf. “I’m supposed to walk and get some fresh air.” She holds out her hand. “Come with me.” He rises from the couch. “I discovered yesterday if I go out the basement garage door, it’s a straight walk to the little ski shop. The path is clear and it’s been treated so it doesn’t ice over.”

Scott follows her to the mud room, stepping aside so she can rest on the bench and pull on her boots. “Need help?”

She swats his hand away. “I’m perfectly fine.” She huffs for air, reaching forward for her new snow boots. “Chris was irritated I went alone yesterday and didn’t tell anyone. So today, you’re keeping me out of trouble.”

“Em, those are the most ridiculous snow boots I’ve ever seen. They look like they came from the kids’ department,” Scott laughs, stepping into his own boots.

She tugs on the other boot, and reaches down to pull the velcro strap tight. “Because they did. And they were on sale.” She laughs. “I’m a cheapskate too. No worries about us filing for bankruptcy, ever.”

He shakes his head. “You’re both certifiable. It’s a miracle you found each other.”

She grabs his forearm and hoists herself to a standing position. “You go down the stairs in front of me, that way if I fall, you can catch me.” He laughs again, and she plods down the steps slowly, holding on to the rail tighter than necessary. “Did I ever thank you for that?”

Already bundled up with a scarf wrapped around his mouth, Chris’s younger brother mumbles, “For what?”

The tiny pregnant woman places her free hand on his shoulder, squeezing through the layers of his thick winter coat as best as she can. “Thank you for getting him to sign up for online dating. I can’t remember my life before, and can’t imagine where I’d be without him.”

At the bottom of the steps, Scott turns to her, wrapping his arms around her as she begins an emotional cry. Patting her flaming red hair, his gloves create static and flyaways pop all over her head. “It’s okay, Em, you don’t have to worry about those things.”

The pair jump apart when the side door opens and they’re momentarily blinded by the bright sun bouncing off the snow.

“Scott! I didn’t tell you to make her cry!” Chris rushes in, stepping between his wife and his brother.

Emery sniffles, smiling up at her husband’s handsome face. “Oh, he didn’t do anything. You know that. I cry at commercials and torn pantyhose these days.” She reaches up to caress his beard, his coat of scruffy ‘fur’ wet from a morning run down the slopes. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Well, I can see that,” he fusses, looking over his shoulder to his brother. “Catch you two, canoodling in the garage.” She playfully pushes on his chest. “Shame, shame. I expect if of you, but not from him.”

“Christopher Robert Evans! You take that back! No jokes about cheating. You know I hate that.”

The anger flashes in her eyes and he knows she’s truthful. He bows his head sheepishly. Her pregnancy dreams have been awful, fearful he’ll stray while he’s away working. He silently vows to himself to stop teasing her about it. Silly girl should know better. There’s no one else like her anywhere. “I’m sorry, kitten. I was just teasing. I won’t let it happen again.” He brushes his thumb over her tear stained cheek and his eyes are solemn. “Scott, Adam’s waiting for you up at the ski shop. Why don’t you go on? I’ve got plans with my girl this afternoon.” He kisses the top of her head as she waves bye to Scott, thanking him for the hot cocoa and company. “Come on, I wanna show you something.”

In the driveway, he proudly presents a snowmobile to her. “Come on. Our guide told me if I just travel this sidewalk, about a mile past the ski shop is an empty parking lot. Smooth and flat. We can ride in circles for hours. The fresh air will be good for you.”

The set up is something she’d never seen before. It looked like a modern golf cart with skis on the front where tires should be, and treads on the back, like a tiny tank. The seats had belts and a roll bar over top, with a high shield of plexiglass to protect them from snow hitting them in the face. She walks over and runs her gloved hands over the shiny finish. “You sure it’s safe?”

“Would I do anything to put you or Baby E in danger?” He walks over and opens the small door. “We’ll go down to the ski shop and turn back if you don’t like it.” Settled in, he helps her adjust the harness strap over her shoulders and pulls tight to make sure the buckle is secure. Kissing the tip of her nose, already turning red from the cold, he hands her a helmet from the back, “Just to be sure.”

“You better get a picture. The mothers will never believe this,” she laughs, smiling for a quick pose alone and a selfie of the two of them before she dons the helmet.

Strapped in himself, he turns to her with the helmet shield up, so she can hear him. “Ready?”

“Always ready for any adventure with you, Jellybean!”

Next in the series, Christmas Presents

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

Copyright © 2019  avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Bun in the Oven

bun in oven cover nov 21

Bun in the Oven

An Emery&Chris story

A Chris Evans fan fiction

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris and Emery spend Thanksgiving in Boston

Warnings: PURE fluff, language

Word Count: 1969

Get to know Emery and Chris in their novella Georgia on My Mind and their follow up collection of short stories

November 2018

Leaning her head against the cool porcelain, Emery wipes the back of her hand across her mouth and reaches up to flush the toilet. She sniffles quietly, too weak to stand.

“You gonna stay in here and puke all day?” Chris laughs, entering through the open doorway.

“Fuck you, you did this to me,” she laughs, closing her mouth quickly after a tiny burp. She holds her breath, praying she won’t be sick again. She sits back, resting against the side of the tub, and reaches for the cool glass of water he hands her. She drinks it down, hating the taste of Boston tap water, the old pipes in the house giving it a metallic taste.

He kneels beside her, wiping her face with a warm washcloth, discarding it in the tub behind them. He pushes her hair back from her face and rests a cooler cloth around her flushed neck. “You’re sure you’re not sick? You seem warm.” Worry and concern fills his voice.

“I’m warm because I tossed and turned all night, and your mother has this house hotter than Atlanta in August!” She snips, holding in another burp. She sighs. “Really, Chris, I’m fine. It’s not a fever. I just need to try to eat something, and maybe nap. But really, the house smells, and it’s making me sick.”

Everything makes her sick these days, but the smell of raw or cooking meat is the worst. “Honey, it’s Thanksgiving. Between the turkey and the sausage for the stuffing-” Chris stops himself, seeing her body convulse at just the spoken words about meat. “Ok, okay,” he chuckles. “I won’t talk about it, but you get the idea. Of course there’s gonna be food smells.”

She rests her head back against his strong, solid shoulder. “I’m hungry,” she pouts. “But that all sounds disgusting. And kill me now if my mother is down there, prepping for noodles and sauerkraut.” She burps again and drinks the last of the water in the glass before sitting it down on the floor next to her. “I want a steak.”

Chris laughs, kissing the top of her head. “A steak? And how am I supposed to do that, without adding to the smells of the house? Or divulging our little secret? Em, why don’t we just tell everybody you’re pregnant, since we have everyone together?”

She shrugs, curling into his chest and breathing in his scent. It’s the only smell that doesn’t make her sick these days. “You smell good,” she says. She tugs the collar of his ratty t-shirt. “Just a while longer. Everything we do is so public. I kinda like it being just us knowing for now. And yes, a steak. Surely there has to be a restaurant somewhere in Boston that’s open. You’re Chris fuckin’ Evans. Make a damn phone call.”

“You’re a grumpy pregnant lady,” he laughs. “What happen to the sweet, demure woman I married?”

“I puked it all out of me… Seriously. This is getting ridiculous. The doctor said the morning sickness should stop by the sixteenth week or so, now it’s nearly week 18 and I’m still puking all day.”

Chris rolls his head, popping his neck. “You can always put in a call to her service? Where’s your wrist bands?”

Her hands fly to her wrists. “Shit!” She looks around the room. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re tangled in the sheets?” One of her message boards for pregnancy had suggested motion sickness pressure point bands to curb some of the nausea, and for the most part, they had helped. Since they’d come home for the holiday, she’d been hiding them under long sweater sleeves.

Chris shifts his weight, his butt falling asleep on the hard tile floor. “You done for now? Wanna shower and I’ll drive around town till I can find you a steak, stop at CVS and buy some more bands?”

“Yeah, I think I’m okay for now.” Emery rolls over onto her knees, pressing her hands against his thighs. “Oh, and get some Captain Crunch.”

Steak and Captain Crunch cereal. The only two foods she can seem to keep in her system. He nods. “Stop it, silly Kitten. Let me help you up.” Chris rocks forward, grabbing the edge of the sink, pulling himself up. Reaching down, he tenderly grabs her elbow with one hand, and her hand with his other, gently lifting her to feet. The light from the bathroom window creates a halo effect around her curls. He sucks in his breath. “Oh, honey, you’re so beautiful.” He pulls her into his arms, holding her tight and kissing the top of her head. “Sorry little Baby E is making you so sick.”

“He’ll be worth it.” She smiles, brushing her cheek against his. Emery loves the clean shaved look for his newest project, Knives Out.

“So it’s a ‘he’ today, huh?” He smiles down at her, running his fingers through her long, hair, carefully tugging at the unruly curls.

She beams up at him. “Whenever I’m too sick, and it’s being a pain in the ass, it’s a he,” she laughs, the sound bouncing off the tiles and he joins in with her. “Don’t even ask. No gender reveal. I don’t wanna know.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, kissing the tip of her nose. His laugh deepens when her tummy rumbles. “Okay, so I’ll go be your big, strong provider and find sustenance for you and our little one.”

He bends down and places his hand on her belly, his lips brushing against her pale pink tank top. “Hello, little baby. Happy Thanksgiving. Quit making Momma sick. She’s gotta go out and people today, and it’s hard to keep you a secret if you make her burp every five minutes.”

As if on cue, Emery burps again. “Uff,” she complains. “Yeah, please stop doing that,” she agrees, rubbing her belly. “Go, so you can get back. Your mom will want you to start the grease for the turkeys soon. God, you’re gonna smell like oil and turkey for the next three days,” she mumbles under her breath. “And the kids want you to watch the parade with them.”

He kisses her protruding belly, still hidden to the average observer, and rises to tenderly kiss her lips. She pulls back. ”Haven’t brushed, eww.” He kisses the side of her mouth and quietly exits the bathroom.

Hearing her start water for the shower, the handsome actor grabs his hat and keys from the dresser. Taking the back stairs, Chris enters directly into the heart of the house for the festive day. Both their mothers sit at the table, chopping vegetables and Emery’s father stands at the counter, kneading fresh dough for bread. “Morning everyone,” he greets. “Text me coffee orders. I’ve gotta go run an errand or two. Emery caught the flu from the students she worked with this week and isn’t feeling well. I don’t know if she’ll be down this morning or not. I’ll stop at Dunkin on the way home.”

Lisa nods, smiling up at her son when he kisses the top of her head. “Pick up two more cans of green beans, too?”

He nods, absconding with a blueberry muffin from the counter for his drive.

Hearing the front door close, Lisa bumps shoulders with Anita. “Told you she was pregnant.”

Anita laughs. “Fine, fine. You win the bet. I’ll clean out the turkey gizzards.”

***

The kids cheer when the front door flies open and they see Uncle Chris enter the house. “Sit by me,” one of them shouts, patting the couch cushions.

“I’ll back in a few minutes, Pal. Aunt ‘Em needs me to bring her stuff first. Come here.” Chris is hoping none of the adults lurking around the house catch him. He carefully hands the tray of coffees to his oldest nephew. “Take these into the kitchen and don’t spill them. Nonna will yell at us all day if you do.”

The young boy solemnly nods and Chris watches as he methodically and slowly steps towards the kitchen. Satisfied the journey will be successful, he bounds the stairs two at a time, entering his childhood bedroom. Emery is sound asleep. Knowing she’s had difficulty sleeping, he decides to let her rest, leaving the boxed dinner and gift box on the bed.

***

“There’s Sleeping Beauty,” Preston Thomas jokes, announcing the arrival of his oldest daughter to the family gathering. “Waited till all the clean up was done and desserts were on the table, I see.”

“Taught me well, Dad.” She bumps his shoulder, wiping the sleep from her eyes. “Why’d you guys let me sleep so long?”

“Chris said you’ve been sick, dear,” Lisa explains, reaching for an empty plate and offering it to her daughter in law.

“Yeah, and we wanted you rested so you could go out shopping, like our first Thanksgiving together,” says Shanna.

“Yeah, it’s always important to keep with Thanksgiving traditions,” Chris winks at her, hiding his smile behind his napkin. Their first time sharing a bed together had been upstairs, three years before, in the early morning hours on Black Friday. He smiles, seeing the collar of his present peeking from under her cardigan. He puckers his lips together and rises, pulling her close. “You look a little flushed, babe. Too warm? Maybe you should take off your sweater?”

Barely holding in her giggles and her excitement to share their good news, she nods. “Maybe I should. Can you help?”

He stands behind her, slowly pulling the sweater from her shoulders, revealing his gift to her, to the room as a collective gasp is released before the whole room explodes in joy.

bun in the oven

***

Wrapping her up in a scarf to venture out into the cold night air with his sisters for Black Friday sales, Chris smiles down at his beautiful bride, the mother of his future children. He stuffs some cash in her pocket as he did not long ago, on their first holiday together. “Ya know, I think we were standing right here when I first thought about having children with you.”

She smiles, rubbing her thumb over his smooth cheek. “I remember. I felt it too. You looked so cute sitting there with Miss Sassypants. Man, she gave you and Scott a time that night didn’t she?” Their boisterous shouts that night had woken their niece and Carly had left them in charge so she could go shopping.

He nods, smiling at the memory of the late night feast on turkey leftovers. “She’s always had me wrapped around her finger. I’ve had years of practice.” He taps her nose. “I’m ready for my own, Mrs. Evans.”

“Me too, Mr. Evans, a little one of our own…” She tilts her head. “Hey? How did you manage that, by the way? The steak was fresh, like on a real grill, and the t-shirt?”

He chuckles. “Pick up a little something for Tara, for her troubles. Her husband and I cooked, and she used her craft letter cutting thing like you have, and made that up and ironed it on.”

She shakes her head in dismay. “Really, Chris?” She laughs. “You went and bugged Tara today, of all days?”

He shrugged. “She was happy to do it, and their family eats later in the day. It gave us a chance to catch up. I want you to know, it was all my idea.”

Carly and Shanna appear at the door, ready to go. They motion for Emery to hurry up. Shanna teases, “Come on! We’ve got a baby we need to start spoiling!”

Emery giggles and waves her out to the car. She reaches up on her tiptoes, kissing his smooth cheek. “You have the best ideas, sometimes, Mr. Evans. I love you, you know that?”

For reference to their first Thanksgiving together, check out Something to be Thankful For and Late Night Visit

Next Chapter, Snow Fun

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

 

Two Lines

two lines sept 14

Two Lines

*an Emery&Chris story*

by avenger-nerd-mom

Thanks to sisterly advice, Emery discovers a secret while Chris is gone for reshoots!

Warnings: Language, fluff, discussion of miscarriage

Word Count 1660

Get to know Emery and Chris in their novella Georgia on My Mind and their follow up collection of short stories

September 2018

Emery signals a left turn into the drive thru diner, asking her sister if she wants a snack. “I don’t know if it’s the heat, or what,” she says, making the turn, “but I’ve felt awful for two weeks and the only thing that sounds any good to me right now are root beer floats. I’ve probably gained five pounds while Chris has been away.”

Her sister Mackinzie looks up from her phone. “Did you say root beer floats?”

Emery nods, reaching into the side door pocket for some cash. “Yeah, why?”

Mackinzie waits while Emery places her order at the staticy old box, also ordering fried mozzarella sticks and a sweet iced tea. “Emery?” She asks with a restrained calm, “Are you pregnant?”

“What? No… I can’t-”

The redhead’s jaw snaps shut and she starts counting off on her fingers. Her eyes pop, her hands shaking. “Oh my God,” she whispers. A smile grows on her face, reaching her bright blue eyes. “I might be. We got stressed, keeping track of my cycles, so we stopped paying attention. I can’t remember my last period.”

Her sister nods, bouncing in her seat as Emery pulls the truck forward through the line. “You were sick and missed church a time or two and you said you’ve felt bloated from summer foods. You haven’t been exercising because you didn’t wanna put strain on your foot. I know you had at least one root beer float at the family reunion, and you’ve mentioned them a few times. You didn’t know that’s a common pregnancy craving?”

The women quiet as they pull forward to the window. Emery makes her payment, taking the food, too distracted to talk to one of her former students. Mackinzie says, “Sis, I’m pretty sure you’re pregnant.” She points across the street. “Pull over there. Go to the Piggly Wiggly and let’s get a pregnancy test.”

In a daze, Emery follows her sister’s command, crossing over carefully in the traffic, pulling a mozzarella stick from the bag. “Mackinzie, I can’t go in there, to buy that. It’s tourist season. If anyone saw me, it would be all over the internet before we’d even get home.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Didn’t think about that… What if I go in and get it for you? I’ll even pay for it if you let me stay with you while you wait for the results?” She taps her sister’s leg while she nibbles the cheese stick and pulls the truck into park. “I mean, I’m sure you’d rather Chris was here, but-”

“I can’t do it alone,” Emery says, squeezing her sister’s fingers tightly. “I mean, you can’t come in the bathroom, and I better drink all this tea fast, but no, I want you there-”

“-I’m your sis, I’m always there-”

“And no matter what, positive or not, you can’t tell anyone, not even Dan, and definitely not Mom or Chris.” Mackinzie is visibly shocked by the determination on Emery’s face. “I won’t hurt him like that again. I know everyone thought I took it hard, but you have no idea how the miscarriage killed him. He’s working and I don’t want to get his hopes up. If I’m not pregnant, he doesn’t even have to know. And if I am, I’ll wait till the right time to tell him.”

“Ok, Em. Whatever you need. You’re stronger than any superhero I know.” She reaches for her purse in the back seat. She chuckles, “Drink your tea. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Emery watches her sister climb down out of the truck. Finishing the fried cheese, she rests her head against the seat, inhaling deeply, gently placing her hand over her belly. She begins poking and pushing against her flesh, searching for any signs of change. Calculating in her mind, she quickly reaches for her phone, estimating she’s about six weeks along. “Siri, how big is a six week old fetus?”

“Here’s what I find when I search the question ‘how big is a six week old fetus?’” Siri replies in her computerized voice.

Emery clicks on the first link provided, smiling to think the baby, if she’s pregnant, is the size of a sweet pea. She continues reading, whispering aloud, “‘Your baby’s nose, mouth, and ears are beginning to take shape at 6 weeks pregnant. You may be having morning sickness and spotting.’ Spotting. That’s why I hadn’t figured it out.” She closes her eyes and says a silent prayer the spotting she’s experienced isn’t sign of a miscarriage. She continues reading, mumbling, “Sore boobs, exhaustion, mood swings. Fuck. How did we not figure out I was pregnant?!” She chuckles. “This is like textbook, and I’ve been such a bitch lately.”

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t see Mackinzie approach the car. “What did you say, Sis?” Her older sister asks, climbing up into the truck.

Emery swallows her sip of tea, before holding up the cup to look at it. “Shit. That’s a lot of sugar and caffeine. Can I even drink sweet tea now, if I’m pregnant?”

Mackinzie chuckles, resting the bag at her feet. “Depends on which doctor you see. If you can get in with Puckett, like I did, she’ll let you, in moderation. But you get a Yankee doctor, if you decide to buy that house in Boston, and they’ll tell you to cut back.” She fastens her seatbelt and turns to her sister. “What were you saying as I got in the truck?”

Emery rests her cup back in the console. “I was thinking out loud. It’s a wonder we hadn’t figured it out ourselves. I was a real bitch right before Chris left. It was like everything was happening at once. Grandad had his stroke, they sent me for another scan on my foot, the Leno viewing party, then the dash to Boston for the state primary. Plus all the tech troubles I was having with the new computer systems I’ve gotta be working with this year. I was just awful to Chris.” She shakes her head thinking about it now. She backs the car out of the parking space. “Really, I think our last words to one another was a fight about laundry, and he couldn’t find things he needed to take into the city, like his razor and beard kit. I’m pretty sure ‘I’m not your damn maid’ was screeched at the top of my lungs.” She hangs her head, sighing deeply.

Mackinzie sucks in her breath. “Why does Captain America need his razor? Is he not gonna be shaggy and bearded in the next one?”

Tapping her horn at the car in front of them, Emery quickly pulls to the left, deciding not to follow that driver out of the lot. Exiting from another side of the shopping center, Emery says, “You haven’t seen the leaked photos? Holy fuck, I need to bang my husband. Like now. Is that a side effect of pregnancy this early?”

Quickly scrolling her phone, Mackinzie holds up the image of one of the leaked photos. Chris, walking across a parking lot in a faded blue shirt, hand fisted at his side. “Hell no, not this early. That’s just a side effect of being married to this sexy bastard. Come on, Em, you’re married to Captain fuckin’ America. And he’s in Steve mode now? I don’t even care he’s my brother in law, I wanna lick my phone screen.”

Emery hits her older sister in the shoulder, maneuvering the big truck into another lane. “So when is the horny phase? God, he better be around for that. But he’s working non stop till-” At the red light, Emery slams on the brakes. “Fuck. Fuckin’ hell. Shit, shit, shit. I can’t be pregnant now. If I’m pregnant now, that means I’m due in the middle of the A4 press tour.” The panic is clearly written on her face.

Mackinzie reaches over to pat her sister’s arm. “Relax. Even if he goes on the tour, and you said he still hasn’t decided about that, Downey could have him on a plane and home in five hours.”

“He’s working round the clock for the next several months.” Emery breaths hard, beads of sweat forming on her forehead as she turns into the proper lane, heading out of town towards her house. Their house. “What if the baby arrives and he’s not there?”

“Get a grip, Sis. A first pregnancy won’t deliver in less than five hours. Do you remember how long I was in labor with Dawson? Hella long. That’s how long. Like we could have a whole Marvel marathon in the birthing room before your baby arrives… But let’s not panic till you pee on that strip, and see what it says, okay?”

***

An hour later, the sisters stare at the four pregnancy tests lined up on the edge of the bathtub. Emery sucks in her breath. “I still don’t believe it. I need to hear it from a doctor.”

“Fine. Make the call. I’ll be right there with you.”

***

Near closing time, the nurse taps on the door of the office. Emery drops the paperclip she’d been fidgeting with onto he desktop as Dr. Jamie Puckett enters the room. “Em, it’s official. You’re gonna be a momma. You get to tell Chris the good news. He’s gonna be a daddy.”

The doctor walks to her desk, patting her patient’s shoulder as she passes by, before resting against the ledge of the dark stained wood. “Your math was off, Emery.” She reopens the file. “You’re actually about eight weeks along. If you want, we can do an ultrasound? A few of the nurses that know you, and know what you’ve both been through, said they’d be happy to stay late to assist with the procedure… How about it, Momma. Wanna meet Baby Evans?”

With tears in her eyes, tightly gripping her sister’s hand, the beautifully pregnant red-head nods. “Yes.”

click here for the next Emery &Chris story, Killing Time

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

 

Grease Monkey

grease monkey aug 28 2018.jpg

Grease Monkey

*an Emery&Chris story*

by avenger-nerd-mom

It’s a hot Georgia summer, so Chris and Emery share an afternoon at home, enjoying the air conditioning and a fresh shower

Warnings: NSFW, fluffy smut, oral sex

Word Count: 2581

Get to know Emery and Chris in their novella Georgia on My Mind

August 2018

Walking towards the garage, Emery can hear her brother’s music pounding through the speaker system. It’s a wonder the neighbors haven’t complained. Moving closer to the open bay doors, Emery can’t take her eyes off her handsome man, laying under the car. Chris is tinkering around under the front chassis, tapping his foot to the 90s beat. The shirt sleeves are pushed up, exposing the tat of the Aries ram on his bicep, and the hem is twisted around his waist, exposing his side flank, a little beefy, slightly out of shape from a summer at rest. She’s not sure where she wants to nibble and lick first. She clears her throat.

“You look like something from a photo shoot,” she comments, walking in to set down a tray of drinks and sandwiches. The room is already getting too hot to stay outside long. “Do you even know what your doing?”

Grabbing the bumper, he pushes the creeper out from under the car and sits up with a smile. “Parker taught me how to tighten the thing.”

Her laughter echoes in the room. “The thing? Real technical term there… “ Her eyes rake over his muscular body again before letting out a whelp. “In a Cap shirt?” She fusses, handing him a glass of sweet iced tea.

Taking a long gulp, he hides his displeasure for the chilled Southern refreshment. Reaching for the little white fan laying next to him, he pulls the shirt away from his body, and aims it up. “It’s the one you got at the the Goodwill shop. Not one of the ‘good’ ones,” he chuckles, running his other hand over his beard, wiping away sweat from his upper lip. In the process, he gets grease on his cheek.

“Hmph,” she grumbles, walking over to offer her brother a glass, carrying the jug with her. Parker nods his thanks, gulping it down quickly and holding out for more. “It’s too hot out here. Y’all gonna be done soon?”

“God, I hope so,” Chris chuckles, wiping his greasy fingers on the tattered shirt.

Parker good naturedly flips him off. “Well, since you don’t know what you’re doing under there anyway, I guess we can call it a day. Besides I have to pick up Jonna Lee at six.” Smacking his lips from the last gulp of the second glass, he hands the empty mason jar back to his sister. “I better go get cleaned up.”

“Shave, little brother, you’re too skitchy.”

“Since when do you complain about ‘skitchy?” Chris asks, sneaking up behind and sweeping her off the ground, spinning her in a circle to face him. He gently sits his wife back down on her booted foot. He kisses the tip of her nose.

He smirks, hearing Parker mumble under his breath, “God, y’all are the most ‘married’ people I know…”

Chris raises his eyebrow. “You should be so lucky some day, kid.” He smiles back down on his wife. “Not everyone gets as lucky as me.” Leaning back, he looks at her boot. “What did the physical therapist say?”

“Good news,” she taps his chest, pushing herself away from his sweaty grasp. “God, you stink!” She wrinkles her nose. “Starting tomorrow, I can wear shoes a few hours a day, and try to walk as normal as possible.”

“I don’t have to carry you up the stairs each night, now?” He chuckles, reaching for her again as she steps away from his grasp.

“Oh no, I think that’s added to the marriage contract now. Every night. No matter what.” Her stomach blanches from the smell of grease and motor oil. “Really. It’s so hot in here, every smell is making me sick.” She looks at her phone. “If you’re gonna be out at her place by six, you better get flyin’,” she addresses Parker. “I’m goin’ back inside.”

She leaves the two men, fighting over the plate of sandwiches.

***

Standing at the sink in two shoes, she balances on her tender foot, as instructed by the therapist. The door clangs open and she can smell him the minute he enters the house. The August summer heat is getting to her, and his manly pheromones are driving her crazy, but the odor of grease and oil has got to go. “Don’t bring those smelly clothes in here,” she yells out. “Strip on the back porch, let ‘em air out. We’ll wash ‘em later.”

“Woman, you’re crazy,” he mumbles, but she hears the door close again. She shakes her head, wiping her hands on the hand embroidered dish towels her aunt gave her as a wedding gift. Emery turns down the heat on the crock pot. The roast smells amazing, rosemary and garlic filling the air. She laughs when Chris streaks through the kitchen, naked as a jaybird, yelling back over his shoulder, “Meet me upstairs in five minutes.”

She laughs, listening to his steady footsteps landing on each tread, the dogs chasing and nipping at his heels.

“Fuck, bring up some towels,” he yells down from above. “Didn’t know they weren’t put up!”

“Got it!” Emery finishes her glass of tea, popping a mint in her mouth. She sets the timer on the oven and walks over to grab a few towels from the laundry room. She loves their little house in Savannah, glad he decided they could keep it. They’d worked hard, building it into their dream, making long overdue renovations. The second garage hadn’t been necessary but Chris had enjoyed spending time with Parker and his friends, working on car projects over the summer. On her way through the living room, she reaches for the basket of laundry she’d folded earlier in the day. She likes that the house is peaceful and quiet, not constantly full of people, like visiting Boston. Savannah was theirs, their quiet place to relax and unwind.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, she looks up, willing to face the challenge. Shifting the basket to her hip, she pulls on the railing, willing herself to walk slow and steady up the stairs in two shoes. Her ankle feels weak, unaccustomed to freedom from the boot. After ages, she finally reaches the top, dropping the basket by the door to the guest bath. She pulls out the towels for him, and enters their newly remodeled room, having moved her office downstairs earlier in the summer, before the boot was needed.

The upstairs is stuffy and she turns down the thermostat, hoping the house will cool off as the sun sets. She giggles, hearing his voice echo off the shower walls as he sings and raps the chorus of a song from the afternoon playlist. “Like raisin’ a teenager,” she chuckles, seeing the pile of clothes from his morning workout littered across the floor and finding a damp towel from his morning shower. She scratches her hairline, shaking her head. When she opens the bathroom door, a billow of hot steamy air assualts her, the car odors still hanging there. “More soap, I can still smell the car, ya grease monkey.” She flings the towel over the shower bar and yanks back the curtain. “Kiss?”

“A kiss? All you did was bring me a towel.” He grins. “I’m not sure that’s worthy of a kiss.”

She leans forward and licks her lip. “It is if you want me to kiss something else when you get out.”

“Yes, ma’am. Gimme some sugar,” he laughs, planting a wet kiss on her readied lips, water dripping from his nose onto her cheek. It had become their joke after he’d secretly teased all her aunts for using the decidedly Southern expression repeatedly during their annual reunion together.

“Some good sugar,” she chuckles, pulling away and closing the curtain. “Hurry up.” She steps over to the sink and removes her earrings, reaching for lotion on the open shelf.

Leaving the door open, she angles it so she can see him in the mirror from her vantage point as she readies herself. Gently, she removes her shoes and clothes. Standing in front of her dresser, she spritzes a bit of cologne on her wrists, reaching around and spraying her lower back. Feeling sticky from the Georgia heat, she towels off. Opening the drawer, Emery grabs underwear and quickly pulls them on before reaching for her newest tshirt, sliding the cool, fresh fabric over her skin. Tugging at the neck, it feels a little tight, but online shops aren’t always the best quality, she shrugs.

The water turns off and the metal rings of the shower curtain jingle as they slide back. Emery drops to her knees at the foot of the bed, waiting for him. Hands in her lap, she tries to twist her wedding band, but her fingers feel swollen. She tries to remember what she’d eaten earlier in the day that was so salty. In the mirror, she watches Chris dry off, running the towel around his thick thigh, resting his foot on the edge of the tub. He passes the towel roughly down his legs, drying his feet before switching positions and drying the other leg. “Privacy please,” he jokes, stepping over and closing the door.

She shakes her head. “Whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes. She laughs a moment later, when he exits the room, towel wrapped around his waist, reminding her of one of his movie roles.

“Oh, hello. Didn’t know you were gonna be all ready.” He waves at her waiting position. “I thought it was just a quick hand job before dinner.”

Laughter bursts forth and she rocks back. “I’m a little hungry for something else.” She taps the edge of the bed. “Have a seat, I won’t be long.”

He cocks his eyebrow and walks over to sit, his knee brushing her shoulder. “Quick and bossy. NOT my favorite combination.”

They both share a laugh as her hands run up his legs, caressing along his inner thighs and under the towel. Emery digs her fingers into his skin, kneading and pulling at the warm flesh. His head drops forward and he places his hands on her shoulders, massaging her tight muscles. She moans, leaning forward and kissing the soft spot on the side of his knee. He drags one hand around the side of her neck to the front, giving a tender squeeze, while the other ghosts up the back of her neck, reaching up and pinching the hair clip, leaving her bright red hair to fall down around her shoulders. A scent of apples wafts across her nose, still using her drug store shampoo after all this time.

Her hands push higher, her thumbs reaching under his balls, fingers scraping over the tops of his thighs. Sliding her hands up, she pushes away the towel, running her hands over his adonis belt, not so defined with age, but still visible and sexy as hell. She scoots closer, crawling between his legs. Leaning forward, she sucks his head between her lips.

“Fuck, you’re not playing,” he whispers.

“Mmm-mm,” she hums, sinking her nails into his flesh, swallowing more of him. Pulling back she murmurs. “I need you to come quickly, baby.”

She dives back onto his cock, sucking and pulling with her mouth, sliding off and on, feeling his tension. Breathing deeply, ready to open her throat, the smell of gasoline and sweat fills her nose. “You still smell like a car.”

“You’re crazy, woman. I cleaned the undercarriage,” he chuckles, yelping when she pulls his leg hairs as she sucks him back into her mouth, nostrils flared and trying not to breath. “Honey, we can stop if it’s bothering you.”

She shakes her head, dragging him in deeper, feeling him in the back of her throat. His powerful scent is stronger than the nauseating car smell, and her desire grows. Wrapping her tiny hand around his shaft, she can control his thrusts, loving the sound of his raspy breaths.

She’s surprised when he pulls out, pushing her back to the floor. Predatorily he climbs over her, nipping at her hip, nuzzling his nose along the hem of her shirt. He pulls back and reads the shirt, before laughter wracks his body, pushing against her.

pats teacher perfect

“You are perfect. That shirt wins. You don’t need to buy anymore.” He tugs at it, lifting it away from her soft body. “But unless you want me to paint it, you need to take it off.”

Emery arches up as he pulls it over her head, freeing her ample breasts. He latches his mouth widely over one nipple, lowering her back to the ground, sucking and pulling at the round globe. She gasps, kicking up her leg and hitting him in the ass. Not paying attention, he moves his mouth, repeating the same on the other side. Hurting like hell, she tugs on his hair, lifting his head. “That hurts, honey, stop.”

Shocked, he flicks out his tongue and gently lathes over the swollen peak. “Sorry, babe, but you’ve got some wicked PMS this month. Smells, achy boobs, mood swings from hell…” Caressing down her body, he licks around her belly button and places a chaste kiss over her covered mound. “Let’s go to the drive in and get ice cream tonight, maybe sit on the beach?”

Taking her hands, he helps her back up into a sitting position, sitting back on the edge of the bed. “We don’t have to- Ok, well then,” he guffaws when her mouth wraps over the head of his cock pulling him in. “Ok. Finish me. I’m just a pawn in your game.” Chris drags in his breath. “Shit, it’s like your sucking chrome off a muffler, damn, Kitten.”

Emery doesn’t have any clue what that means, but she feels in her zone. His hands are in her hair, and she has a rhythm going. She just wants him to come, and quickly, satisfying him. She wants him to splash over her and collapse on top, feeling his weight cover her. A few more strokes is all it will take. The muscles in his legs tighten and his breaths become strained. His hands stop moving as he holds her head in place, lifting off the bed to fuck her mouth. Raising her hand up to cup his balls, he pulls out and shoots over her chest as she falls back to the floor. He follows her and continues to spurt over her, landing on her cheek and near her ear. Finished, he falls next to her, mewling like a kitten, pulling her close as she wraps her arms and legs around him.

They lay silent, for long minutes until the peace is broken by a paw scratching the door. Chris lifts his head and smiles. “You are first class, babe.” He raises his eyebrow. “I don’t think you’ve ever sucked me like that before, that much vigor. It was like… like you would die without it. That. That goes in the record books.”

She laughs, pushing his dead weight off her. “You say that every time… Clean me up. I gotta go check the roast.”

“No. I just wanna lay here and die now. Sleep till tomorrow.”

“Then we can’t get ice cream. I’m really craving a root beer float.”

“Dammit, you drive a hard bargain,” he says, reaching over for the towel to clean her up. “Wanna wrap up the roast and eat later? Head out to the beach and get ice cream first?”

Click here for the next Emery&Chris story, Two Lines

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

Sunday with Grandad

1532899619528274987104116263235.jpg

Sunday with Grandad

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris and Emery visit her ailing grandfather. The old man gives them marital advice.

Warnings: language, fluff

Word Count: 2292

Get to know Emery and Chris in their novella Georgia on My Mind

July 2018

20180729_162834.gif

Chris smiles down into the car, helping her get settled and handing her the tray of cupcakes to hold. She reaches up and pulls down on his tie. “This will make him happy.”

“I sure as hell hope so, cuz if Ilaria saw me now, she’d totally give up, thinking I’m a lost cause,” he says, smoothing down the striped tie from the mid-eighties.

Emery rolls her eyes, moving her feet into position on the floorboard. “She’s seen you in the track suits you still wear. Fratboy wanna-be. She gave up hope a long time ago. Why do you think Seb gets all the modeling gigs?”

“Because he’s a pretty boy,” he chuckles, slamming the door closed and tapping the hood as he walks around the front. Loosening the tie, he crawls into the driver’s seat, already sweating in the hot Georgia, early morning sun. “I’m sweatin’ like a sinner in church.”

“Oh honey, bless your heart! You’re pickin’ up some of these Southern phrases!” She praises, stretching out her own drawl.

Turning the car out of the the little drive, he angles onto the empty road. “Dear God, our children will have the most fucked up accents one day,” he laughs, clapping his hand to his chest.

She swats his arm. “Shut up. They’ll be adorable.” Watching in the rearview mirror, she shifts in her seat. “Did I ever tell you about the student I had that spoke with a British accent the first five weeks of school? When I met his parents, I was so shocked to find out they were American!”

Chris chuckles, turning left at the stop sign. “So what? He was just fakin’ it?”

“Yea, he thought it would be cool.” She explains, pointing out a pothole in the road. “He’d been to a study thing at the Harry Potter theme park for a week, and came back with a British accent.” Emery shrugs. “Girls at school fell for it.”

“Smart kid,” he mutters, “why didn’t I think of that?”

“You were a little shit in class, weren’t you?” She asks, peering at him over the top of her sunglasses.

He smirks. “You know those old pictures, with my long floppy hair? It hid my eyes. I slept in class. A lot. Tara would lend me her notes, and Carly helped me figure out stuff I didn’t get. I wasn’t what you’d call an ‘exemplary student.’” He wiggles his eyebrows at her, leaving just one up, in a high arch. “None of my teachers looked as hot as you.” He pats her thigh, squeezing above the knee, exposed in her summer sundress.

She purses her lip and raises her brow in return. “Turn left up here,” she says, with a tilt of her chin. She squints. “You’d have been a kid I would convince to stay after school. You’d avoid it for weeks, and then once you came, and saw the atmosphere, you’d stay. You’d come whenever you didn’t have play practice.” Emery rests her head back against the seat.

He squeezes her leg again, before returning both hands to the wheel to make the turn. “You miss it, don’t you?”

“They had teacher stuff in the dollar bins at Target yesterday,” she pouts. “I bought a few things, but lecturing at conferences and helping to set up after school programs isn’t the same as having my own class, my own kids.”

He cocks his head. “Kitten, if you really want back in the classroom, just say so. You don’t have to go to Toronto with me this fall. I’ll be back for Christmas. I don’t know how much Marvel needs me for the press tour next Spring.” He sighs, pulling into a parking space in front of the old Southern brick home. “I feel like for the first time, we can breathe. Make our own plans. Have a little freedom.”

She bites her lip, removing her seat belt. “I know. I feel it too. No, I love what I do, advocating for good teachers and consulting with districts to make things better.” She sits still when he motions her to stay. He dashes quickly around the front of the car, straightening his tie, and she picks up the conversation where it left off when he opens the door. “I’m always gonna miss the classroom.” She winks, handing him the tray of cupcakes. “Maybe I’ll go back someday, but for now, this is the right thing.”

He balances the treats in one hand, reaching for her purse as she swivels around in the seat, putting one sandaled foot and one braced foot down on the ground. Grabbing the door frame above the window, she pulls herself up. “Stupid boot,” she mutters, balancing and pushing away, stepping awkwardly around the door. She glares at the front steps.

“I can go inside and get a wheelchair?” Chris offers, jumping out of her reach when she swings out to hit him.

“Fuckin’ hate you,” she giggles. “This is your fault, you know? I wouldn’t be in this boot, have tendonitis if it wasn’t for you.”

He laughs, smiling at a nurse who comes out to to greet them. Emery makes small talk with the young woman, passing off the sugary treats to her. Chris takes his wife’s arm and gently guides her up the steps. “Tap dance lessons to impress me didn’t have to turn into some imaginary, wild audition for ‘Dancing with the Stars.’” He reminds her.

“But I was having so much fun,” she stops on the step, pouting. “That would be something, to be on that show.” She shrugs. “I was just having fun dancing for you, and the family talent show. Besides,” she runs her hands down over her waist, smoothing out her sundress. “I lost all that weight that had been bugging me. It was addicting!”

“It was an expensive emergency room visit.”

She hits his chest. “Cheapskate,” she teases.

screenshot_20180729-160417_google4244532569286918199.jpg

Pausing in front of the big, heavy wooden doors, she sighs. “I used to hate this place. When I was little, I had a great aunt here, and it always seemed so scary.” She scratches under her nose as Chris pulls up the door and a blast of air conditioning greets them. “It makes me sad he’s here.”

Chris squeezes her arm, “It’s better here for him, Em. He started a fire; someone could have been hurt.”

“I know, I know,” she whispers as he crosses to reception and announces they are there to visit Grant Thomas, her paternal grandfather. Chris and the nurse chat briefly, before he turns to her, pointing the way down the hall.

“They said he’s had his nap today, and should be awake, reading,” he explains quietly as they pass through the hallways. Some residents sit in their doorways, calling out as they pass by, or sit and play games in little alcoves. Before reaching the room, a nurse stops them, handing them a small plate with three of the cupcakes Emery made. She nods her thanks as Chris reaches his hand up to knock on the door.

“What? What’s that? Who’s there?” an old, tired voice calls out.

Emery caresses the side of Chris’s bearded cheek and pushes the door open. Loudly she announces, “It’s me, Emery, Grandad. I brought Chris today; we wanted to visit awhile.”

The couple step into the crowded space, smelling of tobacco, menthol and vanilla. Chris smiles at the plug-in in the outlet and fights the urge to loosen his tie in the heated room. The old man, weathered and tanned, his skin aged from the sun, is wrapped in a crocheted quilt with a sweatshirt resting around his shoulders.

“Who? Who is it? Turn up the light,” the man commands.

Emery steps forward, resting the cupcakes on the table beside the chair, turning on the lamp. “Grandad, it’s me, Emery. You’ve got it too dark in here.” She leans down and kisses the man on his cheek, feeling the slight stubble. “Can I open the shades? I wanna see you better.”

“The big bad wolf come to visit, eh?” He chuckles, crooking his finger and pointing at Chris. “You’re too damn tall.” He motions his hand for Chris to lower himself.

Chris squats by his chair, reaching out his hand for a shake. “Good to see you again, sir. Emery’s talked all week about coming out to see you!”

Mr. Thomas drops his hand, looking back at Emery, patting the arm of his chair. “Sit, sit.” He looks up at her, caressing back her long hair, running his aged and weak fingers through the ends. “Just like your grandmother’s,” he chokes. “Who’s the fella? It’s not that bloke from the bank is it?”

Emery blushes. “No, Grandaddy, it’s Chris. My husband. The actor? Captain America?”

“Captain, you say?” He points at the photos on the shelf, and Chris stands to retrieve one. “I was in World War II, son. You don’t look old enough to have been a Captain. What’s your unit?”

Chris sighs, having had this conversation with the old man before. He and Emery decided it was easiest for him to answer as Cap might, and the two trade war stories, real and fake, for a good part of the afternoon. After sharing the cupcakes, the man dozes off for a few minutes, jumping awake when he snores too loudly, scaring himself. Emery and Chris have a good laugh, and he joins in with them. “Son, what’s your last name again?”

“Evans, sir,” Chris offers.

“Grant Evans, has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” He kicks out his foot, tapping the side of Emery’s boot. “So when’s that gonna be? I wanna be alive to hold my great- grandson. And you aren’t getting any younger, peanut!” He guffaws.

“Granddad!” Emery scoffs, blushing again and smoothing down her dress.

screenshot_20180729-160708_google1361842237765849664.jpg

He turns his attention to Chris. “What’s wrong, soldier? Shooting blanks?” He glowers over his glasses. “Quit wasting your testosterone growing that damn beard and tell your swimmers to do their job, dammit.”

Chris bites back a laugh as Emery hides behind the photo album she was looking through. He salutes the older man. “Yes, sir. I’ll take her right home, and we’ll get right on that after we study scriptures tonight.”

“Good. Good Christian man. Nothing funny about that, no sir.” Mr. Thomas sits up proud. “All my babies been baptized. Raised by good Christian parents. You’ll be no different.” He points at both of them. “None of this nonsense about spoiling a child. You lead by example. Live the Golden Rule. Save your money. Visit Vegas once a year. Nothing too fancy,” he advises. “Simple. Like that tie. Good lookin’ tie, son.”

Emery smiles as Chris runs his hand proudly over the tie her grandfather had given him for his Broadway premiere.

“Sounds like a good life, Granddad,” Emery says wistfully, nodding at the nurse when she quietly enters the room. “It looks like it’s time for you to get down to dinner, so it’s time for us to go.”

He scowls at the nurse. “Trying to escape, are ya? Next time you come back, bring me something fried in lard. None of this food has flavor.” He pulls his walker around in front, rocking a few times in his seat, before pulling himself up to an upright position. He chuckles as Emery does the same, tottering in her boot and grabbing the front of the walker. “Looks like you need this thing more than me.” He smirks at Chris. “She get hurt chasin’ you around the bedroom?”

“All redheads. They’re all alike,” Chris laughs. “Can’t keep their hands to themselves.”

“Yep, boy, that’s right,” the old man chuckles, leading them down to the dining room before saying their goodbyes.

Emery kisses the old man on his cheek, whispering, “I’ll visit again soon.”

He pats her back, playing with the ends of her hair again. “Captain America, huh? You picked a good one, peanut. Don’t let him get away. You have pretty grandbabies to play at my feet, ya hear?”

“Yes, sir,” she smiles, holding the tears at bay.

Chris turns to salute the old man, wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist as the nurse leads Mr. Thomas to dinner.

screenshot_20180729-160907_google810797622121888782.jpg

“Come on, Mrs. Evans. Sounds like we’re trying to make a baby again tonight. Can’t disappoint the old man,” he laughs as Emery leans on his side, walking down the stairs and out to the car. “Don’t want him thinking I’ve got faulty swimmers.”

Emery lifts her long hair off her neck allowing a cool breeze to caress her skin. “Mr. Evans, I’m feeling adventurous. Instead of driving home, let’s just drive out to the campground!”

He stops in his tracks. “We don’t have any of our stuff with us.”

“So?” She taunts. “If we go now, we can have the place to ourselves for two whole days, before the reunion. We can get some stuff at Target, necessities, and you can come back later and get the rest of our stuff while I help Mom get things unpacked before everyone else arrives.”

Chris lifts her foot and boot, swinging them around and placing them in the car before closing the door. Walking around quickly, he climbs in the hot car, and starts the air and the ignition. “Emery Thomas Evans! I can’t figure out if this is a ploy for two days of uninterrupted baby making, or another trip to Target for teacher supplies?”

“Both,” she giggles as she rolls down her window, feeling the breeze in her hair as Chris heads for the highway leading out of town.

Watching the traffic in the rearview mirror, Chris asks point blank. “Emery, who’s the ‘bloke’ from the bank?”

click here to read the next Emery&Chris story, Grease Monkey

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

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!”

Click here to read the next Emery&Chris story, Private Dancer

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

 

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

Scroll down under author note for link to next story…

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…

Click here to read the next Emery&Chris story, Sunday with Grand-dad

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