Baby, Sitting

When her hand finally slid away, she realized that she'd turned the sink on. She didn't care. It matched the sound inside of her body; like a stream of water falling into a metal basin. Her legs shook slightly, her breathing a series of hard inhales and almost panting exhales.

"Lee, I'm going to--" She heard the finality of the man's voice. Instead of pulling off of him, like she'd done with other men in the past, she instead reached up and took hold the hand that was still in her hair.

"Yes," she breathed, "yes."

When he came, Bradley felt the heat of it rushing upward through her body. Inside of her, his cock throbbed. Hot spurts of cum filled her, a sensation that was nearly enough to make Bradley feel lightheaded with pleasure. It was, she thought, like a point reached.

It was a strange sensation, as Conner withdrew himself from between her legs. The hand that had been in her hair drew slowly down her back, fingers lingering against her skin. She felt the man's low exhale as he leaned onto the counter beside her, propping his head up on one arm so that they were facing each other. Both of their faces were flushed. Over the counter, they shared a smile. It was slow, and tired, and genuine.

To Bradley, it was like the coming-together of a photograph. A double exposure. In her mind, as he stared down at her with unhidden wonder, the two men that were Conner Andresi slowly came together. Neither of them were the boy who had left. One was the man that boy would have become; one was the man that war had turned him into. Both, she thought, were perfect.

"You're perfect," he surprised her slightly by echoing her own thoughts. His hand moved around her head and tucked a stray piece of hair away from her sweat-damp forehead and over the curve of her ear.

"Just... perfect."

[Conner Andresi]

[Six Months Later]

Fall had finally settled in properly. Golden-brown leaves scattered over the road and the lawns behind him, moving by a slightly cold wind. Conner stood on the porch in front of a white and green painted house; an unfamiliar house, to him. A black duffel bag, different from the one that he'd carried into Kinmount, hung over his right shoulder. In the front pocket was tucked a pension check from the Canadian Armed Forces, in the bag were carefully folded articles of clothing.

A black jacket hung around his upper body, the false-leather slightly tense. Reaching into the left-hand pocket, he drew out a small object. It was a felt box. Lifting it with the end of his thumb, he glanced at what was inside. He'd gotten the design from Olivia a couple of weeks earlier, surprising her by reaching out and saying that he'd heard Bradley admiring it on a day he'd come over and shared a bottle of wine with her. They'd seen each other a half-dozen time, since that day.

Inside the black box, a small ring was nestled between two folds of grey padding. The band was gold, with a small green stone and vaguely resembled the shape of a crown held in place by hair-thin gold metal threads. Easing the box closed in his hand, he raised his hand and knocked on the front door.

He had to wait a moment, but as soon as the door swung open in front of him, he knew it had been worth it. The golden curls of Bradley's hair spilled over her shoulders, her blue eyes--even in the slightly dull grey-gold light of Fall--shone like two polished, blue stones. Her smile, when she saw him, seemed to split her head into two separate sections.

"Lee," he greeted her with a nod.

"I don't really have a guest room," she closed one blue eye in a quick wink, "but I thought you'd be okay with that."

He smiled in answer, tucking one hand into the pocket of his jacket. His fingers curled around the small box he found there.

"That's perfect," he stepped up and touched his lips to hers. A kiss that lingered for a moment as her hands came up to tracing slow lines down his cheeks, "Just... perfect."

Baby, Sitting ---- THE END.