#ID DO ANYTHING IF IT MEANT I WOULD HAVE HER UNDIVIDED LOVE AND ATTENTION ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING I WOULD KILL ANYONE ELSE SHE EVEN LOOKS AT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

edourado · 8 years ago

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The Cabin (part 2)

Here I am! Friday-almost-Saturday, but it still counts as the “next week”! Deadlines, man. Deadlines.

Here’s the second part of your Christmas gift, @shipsabound! Hope you enjoy it! I really liked writing it!

Also, happy New Year!

Muah!

She kept saying that he needed a haircut. But, if not getting one meant she was going to keep weaving her fingers through it every time he was within her grasp… Well, he was just not gonna get one.

He should not like that so much. Sure, he had always liked it, the feeling of someone’s hand (preferably a lady’s hand) in his hair. Maria used it all the time as a trick to get him into doing something she wanted, to get him into bed, to get him to fall asleep, to calm him down.

Since her, however, he had, honest to God, forgotten he liked that so much. Plus, it’s not like his army regulation buzz cut allowed for much… Playing. Since he became the Punisher, though, and had to go underground for a while, his hair care had faltered a bit. And he did mean to fix that, he really did. But he never got around to it, and it actually helped him go unnoticed, so he kept postponing it.

He did get rid of the beard. Told himself that it was more practical, but he knew, deep down, that it was because of the way she kept frowning at it when they first met after all those months.

“You’re a mess, Frank”, she had said, finally, once she got up from that bench, heels click clacking on the floor, hair up in a neat bun and God. She looked so good. “You need to shave.”

So he did. For convenience, he kept repeating to himself. Not for Karen.

(It was for Karen. One hundred per cent, for Karen. But that fact would die with him.)

The haircut, though, kept being put off. And she didn’t seem to mind that so much, so that was that.

But he did, in the end, decide he needed to, at least, trim it down. It was getting out of hand, he actually had to move it aside once when he was shooting a pervert. Didn’t affect his aim, the scumbag dropped right where Frank wanted him to (at the feet of his abused wife), but the fact that he did have to brush it aside meant he needed a trim.

And then, of course, she had to go and become Kyle Pretchett newest, biggest obsession, so he and Max moved in with her until he got the cabin in the woods for them. Frank wasn’t a man to hide, but Karen was too important for him to gamble with her life. He knew that he could end Kyle five minutes, but she mattered more. Her safety mattered more. So off he went, away to the woods with her, his dog and his truck. Let Red take the lead on this one, he didn’t mind.

He didn’t mind it at all, actually. It was nice to see Max running around, for a change, he didn’t get to do that a lot in the city. Frank laughed at his attempts to hunt squirrels, his less than gracious spins on the frozen lake in front of the cabin, his rolling on the fresh snow.

And Karen, well. No one in the planet would say that she was a target. She hummed in the kitchen, poured them glasses of wine, smirked at him, sat on the floor with Max, endless questions of “who’s a good boy”, her blonde hair shining in the winter light.

They were already close, but they got closer even before they got out of the city. He took her hand to keep her close to him when they were in public, the official reason being that it was in case he needed to pull her out of the way quickly. The real one was that he liked the feel of her fingers around his.

Like pieces on a puzzle, they arranged themselves comfortably, perfectly. In the diners, his arm would curve around the back of the booths, around her shoulders, her right side always pressed to him. In the car, she would reach to him and feed him chips, chocolate, beef jerky, cookies, bites of her burger, forkfuls of her salad, french fries.

And he would stand behind her, guiding her around the improvised shooting range he put together for her, because she wanted to “learn” (she was a pretty good shot. His praises would tint her cheeks red, that smile a prize for him, every time). He would whisper the steps of dismantling her gun and putting it back together, cleaning it, counting bullets, teaching her about his own guns, safety, chamber, kick, aim, he was there in her ear, drinking wine, getting drunk on her perfume, falling asleep on the couch, waking up with her curled up to him, her face in his neck, ankle twisted around his.

Yes, Frank was there to protect her, he would always be, as long as he could breathe. But did he enjoy her proximity, her touches? Did he like to know how her skin felt under his fingers? Did he like to smell her shampoo way more often that it was normal?

You can bet your ass he did.

Red called with the news. Good news, of course, Kyle had been found, had been shot, was in a coma. Frank had half a mind to drive back to New York and finish the job himself, but Karen was lying there on the couch with him, pressed against him, smiling at him, looking at him, it was snowing outside, they had a ton of food in the fridge, wine to drink, a cabin all to themselves, shit, they were not going back.

After they agreed to wait, after she had snuggled up further into him, after he let his hand wander up her back, in her hair, his leg around hers, her breath on his neck, the shy tip of her fingers touching his jaw, they fell asleep on the couch again, too wrapped up in each other, they both knew it, this was too intimate, the way he looked at her was too intimate, the way she opened up was too intimate.

But there they were. Too intimate. Fine with it.

A few lines had been crossed already, they both knew this was more than just a friendship. Still, he felt like he needed a solid excuse to keep advancing. It was the holidays, Christmas time, some mistletoes were bound to be hung around this city. That would be nice.

But no. No mistletoes. Not a one. They went to different diners, they went to different stores, they stopped at random gas station stores. Nothing. Christmas came and went and it was like the universe was telling him to step up his game.

He thought about Maria, and the one time her brother had used the typical Christmas custom to make a move on a girl.

“Ugh”, she had said to Frank, watching the whole thing. “Seriously. He needs to up his game. Mistletoe, really? How high school.”

He had to laugh when he remembered it. Okay, babe. Point taken.

So that was a bust. He would have to figure out another way. It was becoming difficult to resist, especially when she would keep nursing those glasses of wine, lips taking a lovely, enticing red stain. Especially when she would keep running her fingers through his hair like that, while she sat there on the couch, already tipsy, lazily running her nails from the base of his scalp to the middle of his head, behind his ear, slow little scratches that had him shivering down his spine.

“You need a haircut”, she said, voice slow, so slow, the wine was making her mellow, the snow and the cold outside making her soft, the fire he started on the fireplace every night making her warm.

“Do I?” he asked, letting his eyes fall closed when she kept on with her caress.

“Mm-hmm”, she hummed, hand travelling down his neck, now, going around and stopping on his chest, pulling until his back rested against the couch she was laying on and her mouth was right there on his ear. “You never stop working?” she asked.

Frank eyed the guns he had been cleaning, the pieces of them scattered around the coffee table.

“Keeps me busy”, he said, turning his face, looking at hers, those electric blue eyes staring at him, cheeks tinted pink, lips stained red.

He wondered, just then, what her tongue would taste like.

“Hmm”, was her only reply, but he heard the comment she wanted to make. He heard her offer of keeping him busy some other way.

He was staring at the way her teeth pulled on her lower lip, paying close and undivided attention to the movement when his phone vibrated on the floor. He actually let out an annoyed breath and her timid smile only made him want to close that gap a little faster.

“It’s Matt”, she said, after taking a peek at the caller id.

“Of course it is”, he sighed cursing the timing of the man. “Yes, Red, what is it?”

It was nothing. Absolutely nothing. He just wanted to know if everything was ok, if they needed anything, wanted to speak to Karen. Basically he just called to be in the way.

Karen’s voice was soft on the phone, answering his questions, assuring him that she was “fine, I promise”. Her eyes on Frank, and then on the ceiling, when she moved to lie more comfortably on the couch, not on her side like she had been, and Frank wanted to roll his eyes when she laughed of a joke, told him “don’t worry, Matt”, too soft.

When she handed the phone back to him, getting up and walking towards the kitchen, he watched as her hips swayed with each step.

“Is she drunk?” Red asked.

“Lil bit”, Frank replied, watching as Max pranced after her, pressing his face to her leg, wanting attention. He knew the feeling. “She’s fine, though.”

“Ok”, Red seemed to be weighing the fact. “Ok, then. Just...”

He missed Karen. Frank could tell. Well, tough shit, buddy. He was not giving her back anytime soon.

“Call me if you need anything, ok?”

“Sure thing, Red. Good night, now.”

Frank finished the call and got up to go after her in the kitchen. She had a piece of toast in her hand, covered in whatever dip she had picked up at their last trip to the market.

“I have an idea”, she said, cheeks so red, reaching out and touching her toast to his mouth, so he had no choice but take a bite. Guacamole. Not the best one he had tasted. “Let’s ice skate.”

He scoffed, chewing and swallowing, shaking his head.

“No.”

“Why not?!”

“First of all”, he said, going back to the living room. “We don’t have skates.”

“Yes, we do! I found some in the closet in my bedroom!”

She whined and pulled on his hand, saying “please” over and over, and Max bit on the fabric of his pant leg, pulling, apparently copying her move, just because.

Finally, he sighed, let himself be pulled, looked her in the eyes, said “ok.”

She squealed, ran to get the skates and in less than 10 minutes, he was watching as she took tentative steps on the ice, arms out around her, gloves and puffy coat and wool beanie on her head making him smile, watching from the edge, hands on his pockets.

It was a bit dark, only the lights of the house and the truck lighting the frozen lake. Max ran and slid after Karen, spinning around her, stumbling and falling, just going with it and gliding on his back.

She laughed and he tried not to when she stumbled, almost falling, but catching herself. Looking at him, she reached out her hand and he found himself moving towards her, taking it, letting himself be pulled, steading her when she would falter, pulling on her hand, making her spin and glide, smiling to himself when she would laugh out loud.

“You’re good at this”, she said, holding his right hand with both of hers, trying to skate backwards.

Frank shrugged.

“Lisa loved it.”

Eyes on him, she smiled.

“I feel like Lisa and I would have been good friends”, she said, pulling him, looking behind her, watching where she was going.

“Yeah”, he agreed, musing at the fact that the memory of his daughter, his son and his late wife didn’t hurt as much when he was around her. “I think so, too.”

Max had already rushed back inside, probably too cold to keep running around them. He’s pulling her by the hand a bit, making jokes about how he’s gonna have her shooting a few targets from here, making her giggle, watching her hair flying behind her and he cheeks get too red from the cold wind.

Fuck, he’s ridiculous.

The main thing about their stay here, Frank noticed, is that time slipped away from them easily. Not that they ran out of it (they’re blissfully, happily without a deadline to go back to the city), they just keep losing track of the hours, the days. They woke up and had breakfast at noon, lunch at five, dinner at one in the morning, went to bed at three, sometimes four, sometimes just when the sun would start rising.

They only realized it was Christmas when she looked at her phone on the 25th, around eleven in the morning, while he flipped them some pancakes.

“Oh, hey!” she exclaimed from the table, lifting her face from the phone, smiling at him. “Merry Christmas, Frank!”

She had placed a kiss on his cheek a proceeded to bake cookies. “Christmas cookies”.

Now, right when he was holding her hand, their arms extended and she was balancing in one foot, they heard fireworks, far away. Looking up, they could spot the lights behind the trees, back in the city.

They slid to a stop on the ice, and she looked at his face when they halted, standing close to him, fingers squeezing him.

“Happy New Year, Frank. Apparently.”

There they were, too close together again, he saw his hand rising to her hair, like it would, on it’s own , her skin and his fingertips cold, their breaths condensing before them.

“Happy New Year, ma’am”, he replied, not too loud, because she was right there, so close.

God, he wanted to kiss her.

One flick of blue eyes to his lips and he was leaning, her breath was catching slightly, and his mouth was touching hers, his chest was warm from the inside out, the tip of his tongue touched hers, she sighed in his mouth, shit, shit, he was gone.

New Year kisses were supposed to be chaste. A peck. Quick, not this long, slow, intense thing, full of tongues and nibbles and sighs and moans.

Alas, there they were. He had one hand on the nape of her neck, a bunch of her hair caught in it, keeping her face against him. Her own were on his waist, fingers hooked on his belt loops, and on his chest, pulling on the flap of his coat, opening her mouth to his, swiping her tongue against his, feeling so good, she felt so good, he had no business enjoy how good she felt.

A gust of frigid wind blew then, hitting them from the side and she gasped.

“Oh, my God, I’m freezing”, she said against his face, laughing, and he leaned further to get another kiss, a long press of his lips against hers, before turning around and pulling her off the ice.

They removed their skates on the porch and she ran inside, rushing back in, where it was warm. Max, smart dog that he is, was curled up in front of the fireplace, the chew toy Karen had given him between his paws.

“Oh, shit”, Karen was saying, rubbing her hands together, standing in the middle of the living room. “My toes are frozen.”

He walked to her, caught her face in his hands and resumed their New Year kiss. She had her hands climbing his chest towards his neck when he took a step further, making her take one back.

He didn’t even feel her unzipping his coat, just felt when her hands rose to his shoulders, pushing it off, and he had to let go of her to get rid of the thing. When they reached the couch, he turned them around and sat down, her lips, slightly swollen already, making his insides twist, his blood running a little faster.

“C’mere”, he called, pulling on her hand.

She sat down by his side and he pulled her legs over his, taking the time to remove her cold socks, rubbing his palms on her soles. He was going to wrap them on the blanket they kept on the couch, but she pulled on his arm, making him lean towards her, pulling him by the neck when he was close enough, opening her mouth on his in the most delicious way, pulling him on top of her, settling her legs on each side of him.

Her body under his felt too good, too fast. He moved his arms to support his own weight, to pull back a little, but she arched towards him, tossing her head back and, suddenly, he was latched on to her neck, kissing and biting and sucking a little bit.

“Ma’am”, he tried, after a minute or two, pulling back again.

“Hmm, shh, no, no ‘ma’am’”, she interrupted, playing dirty, sucking his earlobe inside her mouth, running the tip of her tongue over it.

He chuckled.

“Don’t shush me”. It came out as a warning, almost.

“Why not? You shush me at least five times a day”, she said, looking at his eyes when he lifted his head to look at her, a stupid smile on, he could feel just how stupid it was.

“Do I?”

Instead of answering, she lifted her own head, capturing his lips with hers again, and Frank kissed her back. Because how could he not?

He should not, of course, but that was a problem for the city, for later. Not for here, for now.

For now, the problem is weather to keep kissing her, running his hands up her covered legs, her sides, a strip of skin under his fingers at the limit of her thick sweatpants and the hem of her top, or to work on warming her feet up.

Karen decided for him, moaning under him like that, both her legs tight around his, one of her hands under his shirt, going around his back, fingers working through his hair that way that made him shiver and moan himself.

Max, on the other hand, had other ideas. Frank had heard him whining a little, but had paid no attention until he felt his cold, wet snout on his cheek, the crying sounds right there by their side, one of his paws trying to pull his hand from Karen’s hair.

“What, man, what?” Frank complained, looking at the dog while Karen went “aaw!” and reached her hand to pet him. “Go play, Max, come on”, he said, waving him off, throwing one of Karen’s discarded socks for him to fetch.

It worked for a few seconds. When Max ran to get it, Frank went back to his task, licking a path up her neck until he reached her mouth again, lifting one of her knees on his side to better adjust her against him, rolling his hips a little, enjoying the sound she made.

Until, there was Max again, licking his cheek, catching a bit of the fabric of Karen’s sleeve between his teeth and pulling, groaning, now.

“Oh, that’s just rich, isn’t it”, Frank complained, looking at him again. “What do you want, dude?”

Karen, with both her legs still around him, looked and reached to Max again, rubbing his ear.

“I think he’s a little jealous”, she said.

Max sat there, enjoying the petting, eyes almost closed, but not quite. He was watching Frank. Smug little bastard.

As an experiment of sorts, he turned Karen’s face to his again, touching his mouths to hers and, sure enough, his dog complained again, sticking his face between theirs, this time not stopping until he successfully separated him from Karen, climbing the couch and wiggling between them until Frank was off her and sitting on the other end, one of his feet touching the rug, and Max was settled on her stomach, a very solid barrier.

Karen laughed and Frank groaned.

“Awesome. Great, buddy, that’s just great.”

He got up, pecking Karen’s lips quickly, before Max could stop him, and pried the dog off her, walking towards the kitchen.

Opening the fridge, he got the big chunk of meat he had bought the day before and was planning to grill for them on the next day.

“I can’t believe I have to bribe you, now”, he said, taking the meat off the plastic and showing it to Max, who sat, already eager, waiting for instructions (a treat like that only came after he had performed some sort of task for Frank). “I’ll give you this. You’re gonna eat it. And then you’re gonna go to sleep. Got it?”

Max blinked, eyes fixed on his prize.

“Max. Eat it and then sleep. You got it?”

With a huff Frank took as an affirmative answer, he placed the prime quality beef on his plate by the door, watching as Max picked it up and went to gnaw on it on his prefered spot in the kitchen: in front of the stove, where was warm.

Frank washed his hands quickly on the sink and then turned to walk back into the living room, where Karen was still draped on the couch, turned around to watch them, a smile on her face. Her coat was gone, discarded on the floor.

Before he could say anything - think anything, really - she reached her hand out for his. When he took it, she pulled him back on top of her, smiling and biting that lower lip, hand inside his hair again, oh, shit, yes, there was nothing to think about. Nothing to say.

In the middle of the night, when he was having fun watching her squirm under him (after he drove like a maniac to the closest 24h convenience store to pick up a box of condoms), he realized that he does shush her a lot. When she let out a particularly loud moan, he placed his hand over her mouth, shushing her, watching as she closed her eyes, biting on the fleshy part of his palm.

She didn’t seem to mind the shushing right then, with her right hand on the headboard to give her some leverage against him, the left one in his hair again, tugging so nicely.

He was definitely postponing that haircut again.

#Kastle #kastlechristmas #The Cabin #Hell's Kitchen Cronicles #writing #Kastle fluff #kastlelibrary #shipsabound

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