It's Not the Size That Counts Ch. 05

I have always loved chocolate. It's probably my favorite food ever. I'm fairly sure that I could happily exist on nothing but chocolate, for weeks. I'd probably die young, but I'd die happy.

Steven had figured this out early on in our relationship; I'd had chocolate cheese cake at dinner one evening, and just about had an orgasm in the restaurant while slowly savouring each bite. It had been a constant source of teasing since then; he would wonder out loud whether I was a chocosexual. I, of course, would hit him every time, and he'd laugh.

Tonight it worked well for me, however; after taking our dishes from supper into the kitchen, he brought out what had to be the world's most brilliant dessert. Melted, warm chocolate in a bowl with fruit to dip in it - a fondue. If you've never had chocolate fondue, you're missing out.

There are these amazing little fondue sets you can buy, they have a little bowl heated by a candle, and several tiny little forks. The intention is that you stab the fruit, dip it into the chocolate, and then eat it quickly without dripping on yourself.

As much as I loved fondue, I was terribly lacking in talent eating it. I had once described eating chocolate fondue to Steven, explaining how I ended up with more chocolate on my clothes than in my mouth. He mocked me, asking if I had licked the chocolate off my clothes when I got home. That earned him a nasty look, let me tell you.

So tonight, instead of handing me a little fork and letting me get chocolate all over myself, Steven informed me he would be 'helping' me to eat. I raised an eyebrow.

"Helping?"

"Yep." He continued to arrange things on the coffee table, and then placed a cushion on the floor beside me on the couch.

"Helping how, Steven?" He ignored me, and knelt on the cushion.

"I have a dare for you, Sarah." I narrowed my eyes, suddenly suspicious of what he had planned.

"Oh?"

"I dare you to sit with your hands in your lap, and let me do what I have planned. I'll bet you a bar of this expensive fondue chocolate that you can't just hold still."

"Hmm. I'm pretty sure I know where this is going. But for one of those expensive bars of fondue chocolate, I'll bite, I guess."

Steven proceeded to feed me, slowly and sensually. The wine was completely forgotten. He would delicately stab each piece of fruit, and coat it in the creamy, warm chocolate. Then, spinning the fork expertly to keep the chocolate from dripping, he would raise it to my mouth. The taste was, as you would expect, heavenly. Better than heavenly, really.

Without even thinking about it, I would close my eyes to block out my visual senses, allowing me to better concentrate on the fabulous blend of chocolate and sweet fruit. The strawberries were my favourite.

On the third or fourth piece of fruit that Steven softly placed against my lips, he managed to dribble a line of chocolate down my chin.

Giggling, I started to reach my hand up to wipe it away.

"Who's the clumsy one now?" I grinned.

Steven leaned over me and grabbed my wrist, pinning it down on the couch.

"You moved," he grumbled. "Now just hold still. I told you; you aren't allowed to help. Let me get it."

With that, he leaned forward, and ever so softly planted his lips on my chin. He first kissed it, and then I felt his warm, wet tongue poke out slightly, and he slowly licked the chocolate off the tip of my chin. He followed the chocolate trail with his lips and tongue, lightly nibbling and kissing each millimetre as he cleaned it. By the time he reached the last of the chocolate, just on the border of my lower lip, I was squirming slightly in my seat, wanting to feel his lips pressed against mine. He obliged, his mouth tasting like chocolate, his tongue playfully snaking out to touch mine, his lips warm and inviting. I lost myself for a few minutes in his kiss, my purpose here at his house being pushed into the back of my mind by the tiny shocks of pleasure running down my spine from his soft caresses.

We kissed for what seemed like forever, the fruit and chocolate forgotten. But through the haze of desire, the guilt inside me rose. I was not making this easier on myself, or on Steven. I tried to pull away, but it took a minute before we could untangle ourselves and speak. I opened my mouth to say something, but Steven put his finger to my lips before I could start.

"Sarah." It wasn't a question. I nodded anyway. "It's obvious there's something you've wanted to talk about all evening. I have this feeling I'm not going to like what you have to say. If it was something good, you would have been bubbling over by now." I opened my mouth to protest, but Steven's firm finger over my lips prevented me.

"I don't want to talk about it. Not tonight. Whatever you have to say, it can wait 'til morning. I'm not taking you home tonight - I'll not have you home, alone, unable to walk. You're sleeping here. I have lots of extra room, and I promise to be a gentleman. Tonight, I just want to be with you, watch some movies, and relax. Can we do that? Please?"

I looked into his eyes, and couldn't say no. Practicality only gets me so far; what could one more evening hurt? I tried to think of it as our last night together, a last chance to spend time with him before I would have to say goodbye. I relented, and nodded again.

"Okay. Now that's settled, what do you want to watch?"

Steven had me scoot over on the couch, and he settled behind me, moving so that his leg was between me and the couch, and my back was up against his chest. I had both legs up on the couch, occasionally shifting my frozen peas around my swollen ankle. I removed the peas for an hour after each twenty minutes of ice, like a good doctor should. He wrapped one arm around me, and I rested my head on his shoulder.

We ended up coming up with a bit of a game for choosing movies. Steven had digital cable, and there was a large selection. In the end, we decided that each of us would pick one movie, and the other wouldn't know what we picked. We both made our choices, and wrote them down. We decided that the movie I chose would go first.

I chose an adventure/horror flick, something with car chases, explosions, psychological thrills, but a happy ending and a minor romance. As we watched, we were both enthusiastically rooting for the good guys, and in the scary parts, I would cling to him, hiding my face in his strong bicep.

All throughout the movie, I could feel Steven's eyes boring into the back of my head. He would kiss my neck periodically and feel me shiver in his arms. Near the end of the movie, I felt more than heard him whisper in my ear.

"I wouldn't have figured you for an action movie chick, Sarah. I'd have thought you'd go for romantic comedy or something. Why did you pick this? Not that I'm complaining. It's good. It just seems an odd choice."

I grinned to myself, knowing he couldn't see it from behind me, and in the darkened room.

"Why do you think I picked it, you silly man? I picked something I thought you would like." He groaned theatrically, complaining under his breath about sneaky girls. He proceeded to tickle me, from behind, knowing that he had me captive because of my ankle; I couldn't run away. When I was breathless and gasping because of his efficient fingers on my ribs, he showed me some mercy, and stopped so I could catch my breath. We had completely missed the end of the movie.

"Steven! Now we're going to have to rent it again," I complained.

In a low, throaty, sexy voice, he whispered to me. "Anything I can do to ensure I see you again is worth it for me." I trembled, both from desire and fear; speechless, I let the statement pass without comment.

After taking a deep breath to pull myself together, I changed the subject.

"I need a potty break." I rotated my sore ankle ruefully, as the bag of soggy peas slid off with a plop onto the floor. Before I could even think about getting up, Steven was doing his fireman impression again, carrying me down the hallway. He set me gingerly on my good foot by the toilet.

"I'll be right outside. You can reach the sink from there - no hopping around, do you hear me?"

I carefully wiggled my scrub pants down onto the floor, and sat on the edge of the toilet seat. After a couple of minutes, I still hadn't relieved the increasing pressure in my bladder.

"Steven!"

"Yeah?"

"Look, I can't do this with you standing right by the door."

"Don't even tell me you have a shy bladder." He laughed.

"Call it stage fright. It doesn't matter. Either way, go take a walk or something."

"Promise you won't try to get out of there on your own?"

"I promise! Now git!" I heard him walking away, but turned on the sink tap just in case. That was all the encouragement my bladder needed, and I was soon feeling much better. I washed up, and called Steven back. With scarcely any effort, he relocated me to the couch and went to use the facilities himself. The bag of peas was gone; in the garbage, I hoped - the peas wouldn't be very tasty after the thawing out they'd had. He wandered back in, and settled back in between me and the arm of the couch.

"What do you want to watch now?"

"Wait and see," he replied cryptically.

I leaned back into my comfortable position against his chest, and his arms wrapped around me securely again. I reflected that I had never felt as safe as here, in Steven's arms. As the movie started, I took his hand and lightly kissed his palm; he responded by tightening his arms around me, and planting a kiss on my ear, the only part of my face he could reach. I giggled, and settled in for the movie.

As the movie started, I recognized it immediately. It was easily my favorite movie; a romance, in the guise of the Cinderella story. It was called "Ever After". I'd seen the movie enough times I could quote it, and I twisted around on the couch to look at Steven.

"I never thought of you as a sensitive feminine-type," I teased. "I'd have thought you would be more into action movies or science fiction. Now who's being sneaky, choosing a movie you thought I would like?"

I smiled and leaned back, awkwardly, to peck Steven on the cheek. At the last minute he turned, and we shared a passionate, if somewhat uncomfortable kiss. I maintained contact with his lips as long as I could stand the strain on my back, and reluctantly pulled away. I stretched and twisted to relieve the cramp, and then cuddled back up, my head back on his shoulder, feeling safe, comfortable, but incredibly guilty.

Eventually the wine took its toll; I must have fallen asleep.

********

There was something touching me. It was dark, and I couldn't see what it was, however I quite clearly felt something move against my leg. I felt around with my hands; it occurred to me that I had no idea where I was. Clearly I was on a bed - I could feel sheets, and blankets, and pillows. But where? I racked my brain trying to figure it out; my sleep befuddled mind, still somewhat hazy with wine, ticked along slowly until I remembered. Steven. Sprained ankle. Wine. Movies. Oh God, I had fallen asleep on him during the movie! Obviously he had put me to bed.

I realized with a start that I wasn't wearing much. A quick personal inventory revealed panties and a rather loose-fitting, long t-shirt. A blush rose to my cheeks as I realized that Steven must have undressed me while I slept. The shirt was his.

Something again moved against my leg. A high pitched whine nearby startled me, until I grasped the fact that the something moving against my leg had a lot of fur, and what felt like a very wet tongue licking my knee. The dog! I had forgotten about him. He was a big one; cute, but lazy. After greeting me when I first showed up at Steven's house, he had proceeded to ignore me and sleep on the rug in the hall for the rest of the evening.

Now he was in the room with me, whining and prodding at my leg with his snout. I fumbled for a lamp on the bedside table, and nearly burnt out my retinas forgetting to look away from the light source when it finally clicked on. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed as I rubbed my eyes grumpily.

"What is it? Crazy dog. What the heck time is it anyway?" I glanced at my watch. 4:30 AM. "That's not nice, puppy." I noticed my clothes, folded neatly, on a chair beside the door.

The dog cringed and whined at my grouchy voice, but kept insistently poking my leg with his cold nose. When I tried to push him away, he gently took my hand in his mouth, and tried to pull me off the bed. When I resisted, he whined, running to the door of the small spare bedroom, and pausing to look at me.

"Oh for Pete's sake. Steven never told me you had ambitions of becoming Lassie. What is it? Did Timmy fall down the well again?"

The dog whined and wiggled through the narrow crack in the door, then put his head back through to stare at me again.

"Okay! Okay. Just give me a minute, would you?" I set my good foot on the floor, and gingerly set my injured one next to it. As I wobbled, trying to get up, I discovered I could put at least some weight on it, and I started to limp towards the door.

Out in the hallway, I realized I could hear strange sounds. Stopping to listen intently, the light from the room I had just exited shone down the hallway, revealing where I was. The noise was coming from the direction of Steven's bedroom. It sounded like grunting, or maybe talking quietly. I couldn't make out any words.

As quietly as I could, I limped down the hall, the dog running back and forth between me and Steven's closed bedroom door. The noises got louder as I approached, and I could start differentiating some of them. The large majority of them were grunts or cries, but every now and then I could hear him begging "No! Please! No!"

Reaching his door, I knocked softly. Not hearing a response, I turned the handle and opened it a crack. A thin sliver of light shone across the room, falling across the middle of the bed. I could see Steven's legs, underneath the blankets; he was apparently lying spread-eagled on his back, and his legs twitched intermittently.

Firmly telling the dog to stay where he was, I slipped through the door and closed it behind me. The dog seemed content to go back to sleep on the floor, now that he had alerted me to his owner's evident distress. I waited a few minutes, letting my eyes slowly adjust to the dark; by the dim illumination of his bedside alarm clock, I could make out the edge of the bed. His plaintive cries were loud, and heart-wrenching from this close.

I limped carefully towards Steven's bed, aware that there could be anything on the floor between myself and him. Finding no obstacles, I gently sat on the side of the bed, leaning over towards Steven. The movement must have disturbed him; he suddenly pulled his arms and legs in to the center of the bed, and rather violently rolled onto his side, facing away from me.

I lay down on the bed behind Steven, softly calling his name. I put my hand lightly on his arm, and tenderly shook him. When I got no response, I wiggled closer to him, and again whispered his name in his ear. Not knowing what else to do, I wrapped my upper arm across him, from behind, and pulled him towards me so his back pressed tightly against my chest. He was sweating profusely, and trembling.

"Steven! Steven. Wake up. Wake up! It's only a dream. Come on, baby, wake up."

I kept calling him and shaking him, more and more insistently as I failed to get a response. Suddenly Steven's entire body jerked, and he cut off a cry midstream.

"Sarah? Oh my God. Are you okay?" His voice cracked. He rolled over to face me, still shivering convulsively.

"Shhhh, it's okay Steven. It was just a dream." I slowly stroked my hand along his cheek, trying to reassure him.

"A dream? My God. The pain! They were hurting me. And you - you were... you were gone. And my sister... she was there. She was there! Where did she go?"

His voice, haggard with sleep and fear, cracked again. He started sobbing, a rough tearless cry welling up from his chest. He whispered out a name, once, under his breath: "Cathy." The agony I could hear in the one word left me speechless. I leaned down and kissed his temple, cradling his head against my shoulder.

"Steven, it's okay. It's okay now, sweetheart. I'm not gone. I'm here. It was just a dream." I continued whispering soothing platitudes, as he reached around me and pulled me into a tight embrace. We moved together until I was folded up in his arms, my cheek pressed against his chest, his fingers tangled through my hair, and my arm under his, rubbing his back in small reassuring circles.

Steven's chest continued to heave for a few minutes as he wept, and then slowly quieted down. He was gently stroking my curls, comforting movements that soothed both of us. He scrunched down to kiss my forehead, at the exact moment I craned my neck back to look at his face and ask how he was. The effect was to bring our faces into close proximity with each other, his lips pursed and mine open. As the movement continued, our lips brushed lightly against each other. A spark of electricity jumped from his lips to mine, and I found myself irresistibly pulled in for another kiss. This time it was more purposeful, and my passion rose as our mouths started mating wildly. I felt his tongue touch hesitantly against my lips, and I immediately responded and let him in.

Steven shifted on the bed, rolling towards me slightly so I could feel his solid bulk pressing my left hip into the bed. When his hand rubbed up my bare back underneath my t-shirt, I suddenly realized how little we were both wearing - he was just in boxers, and I was just in panties and a baggy t-shirt. I could feel his erection pressing against the outside of my thigh through his boxer shorts.

The contact of Steven's skin on mine inflamed us both further, and our kissing became even more ardent. I was panting and moaning into his mouth, as our tongues wrestled fiercely for control of the territory. Steven's leg slipped between mine, and soon I was grinding my panty-clad slit against his thigh. This pushed his hardness right into the crease of my leg, and every time I moved, the groove caressed the length of his shaft.

We were moving together, more and more frantically; I could feel wetness seep through his boxers and onto my leg; my own moisture had soaked the crotch of my lacy panties. His torso moving against mine created a delicious friction between the material of the t-shirt and my nipples, and I was lost in the combined sensations he was creating. Every time he touched my neck or my bare back, every time he shifted against my chest or pressed his thigh to my crotch, a streak of pleasure would course down my body, ending at my clit. My hips were starting to move involuntarily, as the level of pleasure approached orgasm.

Without warning, Steven stopped moving against me, untangled his extremities, and sat up.

"No! This is not happening."

He got up and stormed out of the room and slammed the door, leaving me lying on his bed, lust slowly being replaced by confusion. I called out his name, but got no response.