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In Our Bedroom After the War

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Charlie was in her room getting dressed for Christmas Eve dinner when shattering glass and the scream of her oldest child reached her ears.


Moving to her closet, Charlie pulled out Bass’ swords which were freshly cleaned and sharpened. Quietly opening her door, she appeared at the top of the stairs looking like the Goddess Athena in the flesh.

Moving down the stairs silently, she heard a noise in the sitting room to the right, raising her swords ready to attack anyone who had dared to lay a finger on her child.

The door swung open to Bass’ profile as he spoke to the room behind him, “…your Mother a heart attack?” He stopped dead in his tracks, his chin slowly being raised by an incredibly sharp sword. His own, if he wasn't mistaken.  Turning nothing more than his eyes, he arched an eyebrow at his wife. Her expression cold and deadly.

“Harmony?” she called out still not moving the position of the blade against her husband’s neck. If this was some kind of decoy, she wouldn't hesitate to kill her own husband if it meant the survival of her eldest. Bass knew this as well, which is why he held completely still, his hands raised away from his body. She smirked at the retribution she saw in his eyes.

She heard the unmistakable stomp of her eldest daughter moving towards her, throwing open the closed-door next to her father, her eyes holding the kind of righteous indignation that only a teenage girl in the throes of a temper tantrum could carry.

“Everything okay, Baby Girl?” Charlie asked her eyes quickly skimming the room seeing no one other than her own father and the Owens boy that Harmony had invited to dinner.

Oh shit.

She had forgotten to pass that information along to the two older men in the room and unfortunately for them all, Harmony had never taken to Miles’ halfhearted needling the way that Charlie had. She had too much of her father in her and it had led to many a spectacle over the years.

“Jesus, Mom!” her daughter hissed, redirecting her anger towards Charlie. “You couldn't have at least buttoned your shirt first?”

Charlie glared coldly at her daughter as half buried memories flashed through her head. “Well excuse me for thinking you were being attacked.” She ground out not realizing the sword in her hand had dug further into Bass’ skin, until Miles spoke up waving the glass of whiskey in his hand towards the door.

“For fucks sake, Charlie, if you’re going to decapitate your husband could you do it somewhere not in front of the children.”

Slowly lowering both swords, Charlie looked behind her, to see her other children and the nanny standing round-eyed as they watched her. Looking back towards the others she saw the Owen’s boy mouth hanging open in either terror or surprise. She really wasn't sure which.

“Well,” she said drawing herself up to her full height, “since you seem to have everything under control,” she directed at Bass, “I’ll just go finish getting ready.”

Meeting Miles’ eye, Bass frowned as he swiped at his throat pulling his hand away smeared with blood. “Well, Grandpa.  It appears as though I need to go clean up.” His duel meaning not lost on Miles. “Perhaps you and Melissa could oversee the Christmas Eve festivities?” 

Miles rolled his eyes setting his glass down. “Well, you heard your Father,” he directed to Harmony and her suitor herding them out the door.

“For what it’s worth, tell her I’m sorry.” Miles said gruffly as he passed Bass out the door, Charlie and Bass’ youngest throwing his arms around Miles leg happily chanting “Grandpa, Grandpa!”


He found Charlie in their bedroom looking out the window, watching the falling snow as it coated the lawn of the Matheson-Monroe house. 

For their “service to the nation” during the Patriot War, Frank Blanchard, president of the newly formed United States, had sent them out west. The California Common Wealth was being divided up and Blanchard felt that the two men were just right for the job of establishing new boundaries in the Pacific Northwest. It would take years to accomplish. Having lost everything and everyone other than the two of them, Charlie hadn't left their side in the sixteen years since.

The swords had been put away and her blouse buttoned as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Dickhead said to tell you that he was sorry,”

Charlie nodded. “I’ll apologize to Harmony after dinner.”

Bass shook his head. “No, you won’t. Both Miles and Harmony know better. She’ll be apologizing to you before we go downstairs tomorrow morning.”

“I completely forgot about her asking to have Matthew over to dinner tonight. I promised I’d run interference with you and Miles.”

“And it’s been a hell of a week.” Bass finished for her as she rubbed her hands over her face. Releasing her waist, Bass reached up letting her hair out of the loose topknot she had put it in for the evening. At the age of forty, her hair was just now beginning to show signs of silver at her temples.

“Bass,” she sighed as his fingers ran through her hair spreading it out against her back before sweeping it over her shoulder. Bringing his lips to her neck he made his way from her collar to her ear and back as his hands pulled her shirt out of her pants before unbuttoning it.

“Bass." she said again, "Dinner. The kids. We have a guest.”

“And Grandpa Miles has it under control.”

Charlie simply hummed as he pulled her blouse down off her arms tossing it to the side as he unclasped her bra, watching as it joined the shirt. She was pulled up against his chest as his hands and fingers went to work on her breasts, his tongue and mouth exploring her neck and shoulders.

Attempting to turn in his arms he held firm drawing a whimper out of her. “Always in such a hurry,” he teased running his tongue around the rim of her ear as his hands dropped to her pants, popping them open. She groaned as his hand dipped down inside her panties and through her curls to spread her open.

“Mmmm,” he hummed in her ear. “Always so wet for me.”

Dipping a finger inside her, he pulled back out spreading her moisture. Kicking at the inside of one of her heels, Charlie spread her feet at the unspoken direction, bracing her hands on the window frame in front of her.

Tugging her pants down a bit more, he slipped the fingers of one hand back into her pants delving into her center, pumping in and out as he palmed a breast with the other, his lips imprinting themselves over her back.

“More,” Charlie begged as her body gyrated against his hand. She bucked against him with a groan, as he added two more fingers.

Pulling his hand away, she cried out a string of curse words as he spun her around, stripping her pants off as her shoes went flying, her hands going straight to his pants pushing them down just far enough to release his cock, giving it a quick pump as she leaned back on the window sill, guiding him to her drenched pussy.

“Charlotte,” he gasped sinking into her.

“Fuck me, Bass,” she urged as he sank his fingers into to her hips, pulling his length out and slamming back in. After a few strokes she wrapped her legs around him. “Bed. Now.”

With a lascivious grin, he turned walking them to the bed where he gently laid her on her back, kissing her deeply, his hands buried in her hair.  Breaking free of the kiss, he straightened, drawing her legs up to rest against his shoulder as Charlie squeezed her thighs making the fit so tight he knew he wouldn't last long.

Leaning forward, he broke the hold she had on him, thumbing her clit as his teeth nipped at her legs. Reaching for his hands she called out his name, her back arching as her orgasm ripped through her. He rode her through it before spilling his liquid warmth inside of her, groaning her name. Releasing her legs, he dropped his forehead to the soft valley between her breasts. “Love you so much, Charlotte.”

With a sated smile she ran her fingers through his hair. “Merry Christmas, Bass.”