#I’ll still eat sushi I guess cause you don’t really register the fish much amongst all the other components + the raw fish

[seilon]

really evil that the universe decided I wouldn’t like eating fish of all things. there’s so few big categories of food i dislike and im like. why did it have to be that one. why couldn’t i just not like. idk. celery or something. it’s so unfair

[alitheamateur]

A Taste of Home- Chapter 7

Warnings: Language. Very mild sexual content. Angst.

A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying the dynamic of this piece! Your feedback is always, always appreciated! you have no idea how much it feeds me. ALL THE LOVE TO YOU.

Chris twined his fingers with yours, carefully aware as he led you downward over the rocky slope towards the waiting picnic. When you came to a ledge, too steep and potentially dangerous for his liking, his hopped himself onto flat, sinking sands first.

“Sit, then I’ll do the rest, yeah?”

He offered his hand and you tucked your dress beneath you, sitting uncomfortably on the stony, dusty edge of an eroded rock. Then, he armed your sides with his sure, masculine hands, squeezing you with a much-appreciated, tight grasp. You knew those hands would set your skin aflame if he touched you on bare flesh in that very spot, wishing you could see the white indented imprints of his fingers on you as you rode his lap. You held your breath, waiting to feel the itchy sand between your toes. But the sensation delayed, and delayed due to the clutching closeness of you he just couldn’t seem to let go of.

Your chest grazed over his well-worked pecks, your nipples abandoning all loyalty and standing at his mercy. The azure of his eyes was so clear, your flushed reflection stared back at you when you gawked into his face. He cleared his throat, shaking free the fantasy you hoped was swimming around in his head, and eased your feet back to earth. Your body instantly pined for the now absent scorch of Chris’ touch. The man was taking a non-refundable toll on every facet of your existence.

“Ok, so make yourself comfortable, and I’ll pour us a drink then. You’re good with sushi, right? Guess it’s a little late to be asking questions like that…” The boyish, uneasy nerve of his actions made him all the more magnificent.

Chris flipped the top of the basket, after pouring matching glasses of a crisp Moscato, and arranged a colorfully magnificent spread of fresh sushi, and sliced berries with hand-whipped cream. You swiped a strawberry from the bowl hoping he wouldn’t notice, and plopped the seeded berry into your drink. A quirk most wine connoisseur turned up a very disapproving nose to. He caught you, giving a look of uncertainty, yet honest curiosity and did the very same.

“This all looks amazing, and definitely delicious considering my lack of lunch today.”

You gathered up a wrapper of unopened chopsticks, ready to dive into the delightful fish buffet.

“So, you know how to use those now? Only took you how many years?” Chris smiled, lashes batting downward as he surveyed the meal, deciding which roll to sample.

“Excuse you?”

He chewed the chunk of salmon whole, attempting to laugh jovially yet maintain his closed mouth and keep his manners in tow.

“I remember one year, my senior, I think. So, you would’ve been super young, but you were over hanging out with my sister. Scott and I gave you so much shit when you picked up a fork to eat your take-out with. You don’t remember that?”

You did. You sort of inexcusably remembered things very vividly from your childhood, and teen years if he was anywhere in the memory. He and his brother, Scott, had ordered Chinese for the next two months any time you were over to visit their sister, and withheld the food from you until you could graduate from using a fork with your sesame chicken. Their saint of a mother thankfully took a handle on their innocent pestering and lined the troublemakers out.

But, you’d never expect Chris to keep that hollow recollection within his mind, after all these years certainly.

“I was so traumatized over what you two bullies had done to me, that I made my parents eat take-out once a week so I could practice. I’m a master of the trade now, so I guess I should thank you for the heckling. Asshole.” You punctuated with placing the sushi in your mouth with ample grace and perfection using the chopsticks, causing him to mockingly bow to you.

He was laid leisurely on his side, legs crossed at his bare ankles, his weight held up on an elbow. You faced to him, mindful of the hem of your summer dress, but the indecent corners of your mind clandestinely wanted to “accidentally” let it fall high up your thigh, and see if he took the bait.

Does anyone smell that? It’s… It’s, desperation, maybe?

Amongst the smell of the salty spray of ocean, the honking squeals of passing gulls, the perfectly blended pinks and yellows of the swirling glow of the sunset cascading over his contented smile, you felt drunk. It was becoming all too real the ache your heart was beginning to feel for him, the need even. You rifled your hair, and shook loose the tightness of desire caressing your muscles. Just when you thought you had cleared the onset attack of foggy want, Chris stroked the curve of your thigh where your legs crossed beneath you.  

“The ocean air looks good on you, Millie…” His voice became robust, and weighted.

Inching a tad closer toward him, urging him to rise and sit upright next to you, he swiped up a lock of your hair, and ghosted the worked pads of his fingers down the point of your exposed collarbone.

Your breaths turned to ravenous, breathy moans instead of normal, composed exhales when the neckline of his shirt turned cockeyed and you caught a glimpse of that perfectly placed tattoo on his chest.

“Too good, in fact. And, I’m not sure I’m gonna be able to stop myself from doing what I really want to do right now…”

Your eyelids sagged in ecstatic anticipation, hoping your assumptions were correct and he was finally about to let you touch those lips with yours.

Chris’ exploring finger painted down the bumps of your neck, over the pendant of your necklace, slower & slower down. Down to the plumped roundness of your cleavage, his eyes watched the trail he was creating over your body.

He stood onto his knees, walking on them to steal away your personal space, bringing his hands up to the back of your neck. You turned over control of your body and let him drag your face into his, closing your eyes and inhaling the Moscato sweetness of his breath when finally, his mouth seized yours.

It was slow at first, as if time had stopped simply for him, and he wet your lips with only the gentle point of his tongue. With your palms resting on his chest, you followed the eager carnality of his hearts cadence, and moved your lips to the rhythm, increasing the massage over his mouth. You sought out the wet movements of his tongue, opening up to swallow up its softness, and Chris mewled with approval. He grabbed at your curvy hips, insisting you fall into his lap, and you obeyed with keen obedience.

Immediately, the plumped bulge between his legs intruded the crevice between your thighs as your dress fell around him.

“Damn it, Amelia. I can’t fuckin’ help myself anymore.” The way he used your first name made you do the untimely, weird hiccup thing that only he could elicit. It felt like a dangerous warning, and feverish plea at the same time.

“Then, don’t. Please, please don’t.” You ground circles into his groin, thankful for the decision you’d made to wear those lacy, very thin panties that allowed you to feel his amply sized gift between his legs.

His open, paw-like hands rounded over the curve of your hips slowly, ending up perfectly placed over both cheeks of your behind, where he crammed fistfuls of the flesh into his clutches. You couldn’t breath, and yet it was the most welcomed sense of asphyxiation to be drained breathless by his greedy kiss.

“When was the last time somebody touched this sensational body the way it deserves, Mil? You’re soaking my jeans under you, sweetheart.” He spoke mumbled as his bottom lip was captured between the points of your teeth.

Too long. But, something tells me only you can really show me what it deserves.

“A body like this… Fuck me, Amelia. How could any man not worship you?”

Your chin felt chaffed and bare from the slight irritating friction of his beard on your sensitive skin as he nuzzled sporadic kisses there. His bruising squeezes crept under the hem of your dress, ceasing for only a brief moments hesitation, before his thumb began to play circles over the round bulb begging for release at your core.

You hissed, and your head fell back in arduous bliss, the ends of your cascading hair tickling his thighs. Just as you felt him pull back the seam of your panties so he could feel the softness skin-to-skin, you heard the horrified, apologetic clearing of a throat over Chris’ shoulder.

“Mmhm. So sorry, Mr. Evans. I didn’t mean to interrupt, but it seems we have to be heading to the airport soon.”

You buried your scorching face into his shoulder due to being caught almost literally with your pants down, his drivers’ words not fully registering. Chris rubbed comforting circles over your back, coaxing you to relax atop him.

“Thank you. We’ll be right up, if you could just give us a minute to… compose ourselves.” Chris smiled as you climbed to a stand, situating your rumpled dress.

“My God… I feel like I’m 15 and my parents just caught me making out on the couch.” You were a grown, capable, sexual being and what had happened was nothing to be ashamed of. But the giddy feelings Chris seemed to stir up made you feel like a horny teenager again.

“It’s probably a good thing he showed up. Or the two of us may have just been arrested for public indecency had I gone any further…” He moved to kiss the crown of your head, picnic basket and the sandy blanket in hand as the two of your left your quiet corner of the beach, dreadfully back into reality.

He insisted on walking you up to your room once back to the hotel, even though you knew his plane would be anxiously awaiting take-off. It shattered your heart that he was leaving you after some ground had finally been broken between the two of you. But perhaps, he wouldn’t be gone long?

In the still empty hallway, he pulled you into a hug in front of your suite door.

“I’m glad you came with me tonight, Amelia. I had an amazing time with you, as usual.”

“I’m glad I came, too. It was perfect. You’ve outdone yourself today, Evans.” The point of your chin rested at the center of his chest as your short form looked upward at him, still nestled between his arms.

“Moments like these, the leaving, are we I can’t handle relationships. Not serious ones, anyway…”

You gulped.

“Wh… what do you mean?”

“I hate the goodbyes. I get a little attached, and then I have to hop a plane and turn my life upside down for 3 months. It’s too much for me, and I know it’s too much to ask of any woman. So, I just don’t waste my time, or anyone else’s.”

3 months? That’s doable. You could manage 3 measly months.

“But, 3 months isn’t an unbearable amount, ya’ know… Hypothetically speaking, I mean…”

The high you were riding, plummeted and you hit the unforgiving ground face first. He’d made it clear, then and there. No bones about it. He simply didn’t “do” relationships. Or, he didn’t want to do one with you, and the coverup seemed believable enough.

“This time, I’m dealing with 8 months. Ma’ wasn’t too thrilled about that one.”

He must’ve noticed the droop of your face.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, Amelia.”

You humored him, modeling your bravest face.

“A woman like you, as fantastic as you, deserves all the attention, and worshipping one can give. And I know, my lifestyle simply doesn’t allow that. If I can’t give you what I know you deserve, I’m not about to sell you short.”

You would though. You’d sell yourself short if it meant him. As soon as you felt pieced together for once since the spilt with your ex, you were cleaved apart again in a matter of minutes.

“Yeah, no… I totally get it. I’m not ready for anything serious with all this divorce shit I have swimming around me. I can’t handle a relationship right now.”

Unless it’s with you..

You hoped maybe the breezy, careless way you had spoken to him would make him see that the two of you could simply just, have fun, with each other. Pining for more with him would be better than not getting him at all. Right?

Aware he was wrestling with your suggested approach to a casual, here-and-there hookup, your mind reeled into overdrive, thinking of what you could say to push him over the edge.

“I mean, it couldn’t really work out any better for either of us, right? You don’t have the time for some clingy ball and chain, and I, am nowhere near ready to assume that role again…” You slid your hand into the front packet of his jeans mischievously, wondering who this fake bimbo was possessing your body. Was your heart in such need for him, and companionship that it would completely transform you into some emotionless shell that settled for only crawling into his bed on occasion…. Knowing full well you deserved more, as he had said. Hook-ups were fine, you weren’t opposed. But you knew it would always be much, much more with him.

“When you put it that way…” he groaned into your ear, nibbling.

He captured you into a kiss, heavy on the tongue, and rough on the lips. Your toes stretched to be closer to him, wanting to permanently mold his plush mouth to yours.

“I have to go, beautiful. But, I’ll call you soon. Promise.”

He’d call you, He promised he would, and a promise he would never break. But, you fought back the beating of tears at your eyes knowing it would only be to settle his manly ache, and nothing more. In that moment, your heart dropped. Along with your self respect…

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