The Longest Time

There was a sort of delirious feeling that came post-orgasm. A blissful connection that made it seem like James and I were the only two people in the world. I lie in his arms as the morning faded into afternoon, neither of us saying anything of substance. The silences in our conversation came with an ease I’d never known, for perhaps the first time in my life I didn’t feel the need to fill the space with self-conscious rambling. We both knew we couldn’t spend the entire day in my bed, but neither of us made a move to get up, instead his fingers traced patterns on my skin and listened to his steady breathing under my head. There was no urgency anymore, the wait was over and any concern I’d had about my feelings for him changing after sleeping together had been swept away with my impatience. I was so fully content I didn’t flinch when my phone vibrated, made no moves to check it, my focus entirely on him.

“Would we be bad people if we skipped Christmas Dinner?” he asked, his lips brushing over my shoulder delicately before making full contact against my skin.

I thought for a moment before speaking, truly considering the option of just spending our Christmas naked together. It was as tempting as the smooth planes of his body, inviting and intriguing the way his arms were as they held me. “I’m tempted,” I admitted, tilting my chin upwards and nudging closer so my lips could meet his with ease. The comfort of kissing him washed over me and I realized in that moment that I’d never kissed anyone so easily. There was no trepidation, no inner dialogue instructing me, it just was.

His hand moved down to my hip and he maneuvered our bodies so I was on top of him, my legs straddling his hips but our bodies pressed together. The blanket slipped from my back and I shivered at the sensation of the cool air hitting my flushed skin.

We considered it aloud between kisses, lips only parting to comment on a pro or con. In the end our stomachs won out and motivated by hunger we slipped from the warmth of the sheets back into the real world. Unlike that morning, when I’d asked God what exactly I was doing, I moved around the room knowing exactly where I belonged. The weight of uncertainty had been lifted off my chest and I wondered briefly how long it would last. I could feel James’ eyes on me as I paired my new sweater with a grey skirt, the kind that sat at my waist and flared out if I spun around. He watched with a slight smile showing on his kiss swollen lips and not once did I feel the need to hide myself from his gaze. He dressed as I fixed my curls, separating them in the bathroom mirror and trying to tame the frizz that came from his hands tangling in them just an hour earlier. I wondered, as I studied at my reflection, how I could look the same but feel so completely different.

I’d finished brushing a coat of mascara over my lashes when he came up behind me, the sheen of sweat that had glistened over his face having evaporated and his body hidden under the fabric of his dark jeans and long-sleeved shirt. Though it had been just minutes, I already missed the sight of his bare skin. He touched me tenderly, on hand on my hip as he stood, his reflection a few inches above mine in the mirror. He was the same James who I’d met over a misplaced ball and an Xbox, the same man who had come in just when I needed him so many times, but in my eyes he’d become so much more. It had taken months to get where we were, and only moments for me to fall for him. It wasn’t the sex that had made me fall in love with him, that explanation would be far too shallow to describe how I felt, but it was after, when he looked me dead in the eye, brushing my hair from my face and asking if I was okay, that I realized I was in love with him. For the first time in my life, it didn’t terrify me either, because for the first time in my life, it felt real.

“Ready?” he asked, our eyes meeting in the mirror. I nodded and leaned back, resting my body against his for a brief minute before straightening again and turning out the light as I left the bathroom.


“You look good,” Beatrice remarked as we stood in the kitchen pouring drinks. The noise of the group was muffled by the wall between the kitchen and living room, the voices of the seven hockey players indistinct from one another. Serena handed me a glass of white wine and I tried not to blush at Bea’s comment on my appearance, not wanting to draw attention to how good I felt. In my mind’s eye I paled in comparison to the two of them. Bea with her vibrantly coloured skin art, perfectly placed curves, and ever endearing belly, she seemed to be increasing in radiance as she did in circumference. And Serena, the gorgeous blonde who I’d only just met who laughed with her entire being and spoke with authority. It was easy to see how they had garnered the attention of Evgani and Sidney, the pair of them exuding an intoxicating confidence. But I wondered how exactly I fit in, how I looked on the arm of James Neal when they seemed to fit so seamlessly into the world of Pittsburgh’s elite.

Taking a sip from the glass I smiled and thanked both of them. I wanted to tell them everything, spill every detail of what I was feeling, as if saying it aloud would make it more real. But I decided against it, no one wanted to hear the gushy features of newly realized emotions, and in a way, keeping them to myself only seemed to be allowing them to grow with every glance I got of James.

We sat to dinner, crowded around the table--set with its spread of traditional holiday delicacies-- James to my right as I sat on the end of the side and Beau across from him. My plate was piled with food, the aroma and colours both enticing and mouthwatering, but my mind too occupied by James to worry about eating. Under the table, his hand rest on my thigh, warm and heavy. I curled my fingers around his and practiced eating with my left hand, my eyes drifting from the plate to him every few minutes. I couldn’t help but want to watch him as he interacted with the people around us, joking with Geno about something I hadn’t caught and taking hardy bites of turkey. I didn’t want to be the girl who was entranced by the way my boyfriend’s jaw moved as he chewed, but I was. I was enticed by every tiny detail of his face, his stubble that had started to form, red tinged like my hair under the light, and how his hair was pushed back from his face effortlessly, the rosy tint to his cheeks and the slightly crooked line of his nose. I wanted to get my camera and take a close up of the wrinkles around his eyes as he laughed at something Bea said, but I knew it wouldn’t be right. So I tried to capture it in my mind, hoping that I’d remember to get the shot later.

“Colbie!” I heard my name suddenly and snapped back into focus, just in time for a dinner roll to hit me in the head and land on my plate. Across from me Beau grinned deviously, and I got the impression that he’d said my name a few times before I’d responded.

At the other end of the table I heard Beatrice groan before I could reply. “One meal, one meal without chaos, Sunshine, that’s all I’m asking,” she cried in exasperation and I tried not to laugh. Chaos seemed to follow Beau and James, on their own they both seemed relatively calm, normal even, but together I’d learned that they were a tag team of acting before thinking. While Bea seemed to be tired of their shenanigans, I was still too enchanted by James to find it off putting.

I eventually joined the conversation, still half distracted by James whose hand hadn’t left my thigh. Despite being nervous at first, it was easy to fall into conversation with the group around the table. Beatrice spent a good portion of the meal picking at Beau, who seemed intent on driving her insane, and I started to get a real feel for their relationship. She seemed like the maternal type, making sure everyone was happy before she thought to fill her own plate or refill her drink. I watched Sidney briefly out of the corner of my eye as he looked at her, I didn’t know him well, but I could tell by the relaxed muscles in his face and the way he smiled as she spoke that he loved her. When she moved to get up for another glass of water, he immediately sprung upright before she could push her body from the chair. He was doting in the best way, kissing the top of her head as he replaced her glass. I admired them immensely. I knew from talking to Bea the day I took her photos that things hadn’t always been easy for them. She’d alluded to just how hard it was to be in the spotlight beside him, and how much she missed him when he was gone, but seeing them together they seemed to be the picture perfect example of making things work.

When the dishes were cleared and leftovers put in travel containers for each guest, we congregated in the living room, filling most of the space with bodies. Serena and Geno shared an overstuffed chair, her body on his and her head resting on his shoulder while he held her close, a look of contentment on their faces. Sidney and Bea took the couch, his arm draped over the back of it while she tried to find a comfortable position against him, moving every few minutes to adjust herself. I’d never been pregnant but I could sense that as she grew closer to her due date she found herself increasingly uncomfortable, an experience I’d seen my mother go through most vividly with Aoife. I watched them from my spot on the floor beside James. They would be good parents, I’d decided. They’d be the kind of parents a kid deserved and while I felt far away from that stage of my life, I was the smallest bit envious of how settled they seemed. I imagined that life only got easier when things like school and how to afford paying for gas and groceries were no longer in the picture. I wondered how long it would take for me to be in that place, I wondered if James would be there with me.

The conversation was low, surprisingly calm for the group of people who were in attendance, I’d never seen Beau so relaxed as he was seated on James’ other side, his head against the wall and his eyes looking heavy. The other players, who I barely knew, were the first to say goodbye, leaving behind a spell of tranquility. James’ arm was around my shoulders, and I wanted to bury my head in his chest, take him in with all my sense, but instead I just leaned towards his touch, watching the room as the conversation flowed from the meal, to hockey, to the impending arrival of baby Keller-Crosby. I hated to move from the warmth of the room and James’ arm, but eventually had to. Tip toeing across the room and down the hall to the washroom.

I was washing my hands when I heard a soft knock on the door. As I opened my mouth to tell the person on the other side that I would be right out, I heard James speak softly.

“It’s me,” he said in an almost whispered tone and I turned the lock on the handle to let him in.

I didn’t have a chance to speak before he was closing the door behind him, locking it again and closing what little space there was between us. His hands came to my face, followed by his lips on mine and I sighed into his kiss, my hands finding a resting spot on his hips. It wasn’t a heated kiss, no urgency or aggression in the way his lips moved with mine. There was the same laziness to it as there had been lying in my bed hours prior. When he finally pulled away after a few long seconds, he rest his forehead against mine and smiled.

“Hi,” he spoke in a breathy voice.

I giggled, my lips still warm from his kiss. “Hi.”

“You’re really pretty, Colbie,” he told me and I felt my cheeks heat up, knowing that there was a flush under the pigmented spots of my freckles.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I replied, giving fully into how cheesy my response was.

He didn’t say anything, just returned his lips to their rightful place on mine, his hands moving from my cheeks to my sides, taking his time as they moved over the material that covered my body. There was more urgency to his kiss now, trading in the lazy movements for more eager ones. He tugged at my sweater, untucking it from my skirt and slipping his hands under it. Cool hands touched my stomach gently and continued to move upwards. My own hands had found their way to his hair, tangling my fingers in the hair at the base of his head where it met his neck. His lips slowed their movement as he pushed under my bra and I kissed him back with an increased desire. It wasn’t the first time I’d kissed a man in a bathroom, but unlike the men before him, James had me so captivated by him that I didn’t for a moment think about the setting or that there were people just a few rooms away. His fingers pinched my nipples and I bit down on his lip, pulling a soft moan from him. The noise intoxicating. There was no trepidation from either of us when he pulled my sweater from my body, our lips apart for only seconds before finding each other again. My bra went next, falling to the ground without a second thought.

It could easily overwhelm me just how much I cared about him, how much I loved every little part of him that I had had the privilege of meeting so far. But I was far too entranced by his touch to let my mind take over, my only thoughts focusing on how I could get more of him. Tugging at his hair, he kissed me harder and I let my hands glide down his body, resting on his chest for a moment before I continued on to the button on his jeans, undoing his belt with a skill I didn’t realize I had. His lips moved on from mine, spending a few moments along my jaw before going to my neck, then my chest, and my breasts. He looked up at me with the most adoring eyes before taking my nipple in his mouth and I shivered, a mixture of the physical and emotional sensations making my knees weak. He spent a few minutes at my chest, hands and mouth working together to make my jaw go slack. I’d managed to undo his pants when he dropped to his knees, kissing a trail to just above my belly button where my skirt sat. I expected him to remove it, to leave me standing bare in Beatrice’s guest bathroom, but instead he pulled away slightly, pushing me towards the sink before diving under the heavy grey fabric. My hands flat on the counter I held myself up as he kissed his way up the inside of one thigh. Before moving to the other leg, he grabbed it gently, lifting it and setting it on his shoulder, his body below me supporting me and keeping me upright as he slowly ran one finger over the damp spot that had developed on my underwear. I knew he wanted to savour the moment just as badly as I did, but the more his finger traced over the fabric, the harder it was to keep still, the urge to squirm and push into his touch making it hard to focus.

“James,” I breathed, the desperation clear in my voice. He seemed to know exactly what I needed in that moment and, as if my whine had been the permission he was looking for, he carefully moved the fabric to the side and I felt his fingers connect with the heat that had been eagerly awaiting him. My hands squeezed the edge of the counter and I tried to keep quiet when he finally dove in fully, the mixed sensation of his mouth on my clit and his fingers pushing into me making it next to impossible. A quiet moan fell from my lips as he moved in ways that made my dizzy. He wasn’t the first man to venture between my legs. I’d been with plenty before him, but none of them had touched me with the same care and enthusiasm. He touched me as if it was all he wanted to do, as if he expected nothing in return. That alone was enough to send a sputter of butterflies through my stomach. It was everything I’d been missing, the feeling that songs were written about, that influenced art movements, and entire novels. The feeling of his tongue moving against the skin that stayed hidden from so many was intoxicating and I wondered if I would ever get enough of it.

My hand reached out to nothing, grasping as I felt myself getting closer to the edge of reason, only to find it connecting with his, his fingers filling the spaces between mine in perfect metaphor. I squeezed desperately as he continued, my breathing heavy and vision blurring, forcing me to close my eyes. He didn’t stop when I felt it wash over me, the orgasmic bliss a warmth of sensation, he carried on his diligent movements until I was shaking, panting, then completely relaxed.

He remerged from under my skirt, face flushed and lips glistening. I stared at him in adoration, paying no mind to our surroundings or how much time had passed. As far as I knew the world had stopped the moment he’d touched me. Standing, he wiped his face with the back of his hand and I could see him searching for a reaction from me, but I was dumbstruck, stars in my eyes as I looked at him. One careful slip and I could have easily told him how much he meant to me, how I truly felt. But even in my state of glory, I knew better. Instead I reached out for him, pulling him by his hips to me and looking him dead in the eyes. There was a hesitancy to his movements as he leaned in, almost as if he wondered what to do next, but I had no such inhibitions. My lips returned to their rightful place on his and I could taste myself faintly on his mouth.

“Okay?” he asked when I pulled away slightly to take a breath. I nodded eagerly. He approached me with so much tenderness and care that in that moment I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry. From the earnest look on his face to the way he ran his hand delicately over my cheek. He was everything I’d never thought I deserved. My hands moved to his undone pants and I gently pushed them down, looking to his face for permission before touching him. When he smiled I knew he wanted this as much as I did.

I wasn’t sure how long we’d been hidden away in the bathroom when we finally returned to the group, we’d tried to be as quick and as silent as possible, but by the look on Serena’s face when we entered the room it was clear that everyone knew what had happened.

“Everything alright?” Beatrice asked with a knowing smile and Sidney cleared his throat awkwardly.

I smiled weakly and felt my cheeks begin to match my hair. I was too blissful to regret letting James into the room with me, but I did feel slightly guilty, I wouldn’t have blamed her if she told us to leave right then and never come back.

“We uh… were just talking to my parents,” James lied, the tips of his ears going pink. I doubted anyone in the room believed him, but no one said otherwise. With the peace came a sort of acceptance, despite how nervous I’d been to be around Beatrice and Sidney-- despite having spent time alone with Bea-- I knew now that there was no judgement in their eyes, that in a strange way I was safe.

While James returned to his spot on the floor beside Beau, a smile stuck on his face that felt like it was only for me, I reached for my camera. No one protested when I gestured to it, then lived the viewfinder to my eye. With the camera in my hand I was free to observe, free to be on the outskirts where I felt safest. The conversation resumed and I moved quietly, capturing the moments as best I could. There were shots of Beatrice with her body resting against Sidney’s and their hands clasped over her stomach, photos of Serena with her head in the crook of Geno’s neck, and of course moments captured of James, with his unwavering grin and Beau gestured about something beside him. Perfect still images that depicted how it felt to be in a room with people who were more than hockey’s best known players. These were pictures of people who cared about each other, and as I watched from behind the lens, I hoped that I could be a part of their world for the long term.

Notes

I'm not sure if anyone uses this site anymore or is interested in this story, but I felt like revisiting James and Colibe. I have missed writing them and it feels like home to be back in the fanfic scene. I hope you enjoy this enstallment and I promise I will not take 3 more years to post the next chapter, I'm already working on it!

xx-T