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The Waiting Game

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Sara stepped out of the bathroom uncertainly. Michael was standing with his back to her looking around the bedroom. She stopped in the doorway and watched him for a moment. This was a sight that she never imagined that she would ever see again. All those years they had been apart seemed to stretch between them. How was she supposed to do this? It had almost been easy before, running to help him after he escaped, dreaming of being together again. They had done that before. This was new. Now they were finally here, and there was nothing she could do to make things easier. Maybe they should have gone to a hotel or something; maybe that would have been simpler than having him standing there so out of place. But she had allowed Michael to insist that this was her home, Mike’s home. Looking at him now, she was sure they couldn’t stay here. He would try for her, but the ghosts were too much for them to have to live with. But for the moment at least they were together. “Michael,” she finally said quietly.

He turned to look at her. For the first time she was questioning that all she wore was an old t-shirt. It didn’t really seem to be the appropriate wardrobe for being alone with her husband after seven years. Her dead husband at that. Was there a set wardrobe for that? No one had given her an instructional manual. As they stood there looking at each other she tried to push the idea from her mind. Now was not the time to worry about the details. They were together, and that was really the only detail that mattered. She took him in, not wanting to miss anything about him. Any second now she might discover that this was all some kind of dream. She had been in fear of that since Lincoln had first shown her the picture of him. And if it was all a dream, she wasn’t sure she would survive the morning light. He wasn’t quite what she remembered him though. All those years dreaming of this moment she had never been able to imagine him this way, older. It was nice, a way to cement that he was truly here. She looked at him intently, took in every aspect of him from the new tattoos to the gray hair. And it wasn’t all physical changes either. The years had changed him in ways she couldn’t imagine. Yet he was here, looking back at her like he was trying to guess how the years had changed her too. After a moment he cleared his throat. “I was about to go.” He gestured toward the bedroom door. “But I didn’t want you to wonder where I’d gone.” He said the last bit like he could guess where her mind would have gone if she’d come out of the bathroom to find him gone.

His words caught her off guard. He was standing there barefoot in sweats and a t-shirt. Where was he going to go dressed like that? Sara worked to keep her face neutral. “Right.” Of course he wasn’t going to want to stay here after everything, “Makes sense,” she muttered.

Michael’s eyes scanned her briefly, lingering for a long moment on her bare legs. It obviously took an effort for him to look back at her face. “It’s late, and I figured you’d probably want to wait.” Something on her face must have unnerved him because he elaborated quickly. “To talk,” he said. But it was clear from his wandering eyes that he wasn’t thinking about talking. “I’ll just be on the couch.” He motioned toward the door again.

He was halfway to the door before she stopped him. “Wait,” she said. She waited until he turned to look at her again before continuing. “What if I wanted to… talk?”

Michael paused for a moment, weighing her words. His eyes flicked across her body again. “I should really-“ His words were cut off as she crossed the room to stand right in front of him.

They stood looking at each other for a second before Sara tilted her head up and kissed him softly. She pulled him closer to her as her tongue slid against his own. It was all very unhurried, but there was a level of desperation beneath the surface for them both. His arms wrapped around her, one hand winding into her hair, pulling slightly. Her hands wandered down his chest, unable to stop from touching him everywhere. And then her hand was travelling lower and lower until she found his hard cock and brushed against it. He hissed loudly, breaking away from her slightly. “This okay?” she said quietly as she wrapped her hand around him and stroked him through his sweats.

He nodded as his forehead knocked against her own. She gave a little gasp as he got even harder in her hand and gripped him a little firmer. He was leaning down and capturing her lips with his own again. Both of them were a little breathless as they kissed deeply. The arm around her waist tightened, Michael’s fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her panties to dig into her hip. She was sure that he was squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise but in the moment didn’t care. Even as she thought about it his grip loosened a little, fingers running along her hipbone slowly.

They pulled away from each other to catch their breath. Sara kept her hand steady on his cock. It was a long moment of them looking at each other as his fingers continued to touch her softly. Michael looked on the verge of something, a questioning look in his eyes as he hooked his fingers into her underwear and started to slowly pull the fabric down her thighs. She nodded slowly, leaning in to kiss him again. It took a moment to figure out how to keep her balance as his hand slid between her thighs. Her teeth bit into his lips as his fingers brushed through her folds. ”Shit!” he whispered against her lips as he felt how wet she was. She gave a little groan as two fingers slid inside her.

Her head hit his shoulder, his fingers hooking inside her, his thumb rubbing her clit. She was panting loudly, trying to keep her balance. Somehow she had managed to forget what his fingers could do to her. It took a lot of effort to push his hand away. She backed away a little as she got her bearings back. He watched her uncertainly. When she finally kissed him again she used it as an opportunity to walk them toward the bed. He let himself be directed away from the door and sat on the bed as she pushed him down. There was barely a beat before she was straddling him, kissing him fiercely as she rolled her hips against him. “Fuck Sara,” he groaned. “Wait.”

Her hands cupped his face. “It’s been seven years. No more waiting.”

He allowed himself to be pulled into a kiss, their hips rutting against each other. The friction was driving them both mad but still not nearly enough. She lifted her hips off of him reluctantly, working to push his pants down his thighs. They were barely out of the way before her hand was gripping his cock, stroking him fast. He was groaning against her lips as she lined him up with her entrance. Without warning she sank down on him. Their lips broke away from each other as their hips slammed together. Both of them gasped at the sudden contact, and it was only a moment before their hips were rolling together. They struggled to find a rhythm for a moment, but somehow it was better than she had imagined it would be. Their foreheads pressed together as they hips finally synced up.

One of his hands slid between them as she slammed down his cock. The other hand held her hip firmly, helping to guide her as she was rapidly riding him. She moaned softly as he started to rub her clit, her muscles fluttering around him. His jaw clenched as he slowed them down a little, despite the increased pressure on her clit. Little gasps escaped her lips. She was trying to speed them up again, but he held her hip steady. “Slow down,” he groaned.

Michael was panting loudly. He tried to keep up the steady roll of their hips as he resisted the urge to lose control. Sara was groaning in frustration, but she was fluttering around him faster now, walls tight around him. Reluctantly he let her speed up again, working to keep his breathing even. His pressure on her clit sped up too, trying to push her closer to the edge. They slammed together rapidly, and she rolled her hips just right. “Oh shit!” he groaned, almost losing control. “You can’t do that.”

Sara groaned herself, getting close. She repeated the motion with her hips, and he jerked against her, right on the edge. He dug his fingers into her hip and rubbed her clit fast as he struggled not to come. He could tell that she was almost there. All he needed to do was hold off for a few moments. She was gasping slightly, her orgasm starting to hit her in waves. Her hips were out of rhythm, slamming against him as he started to come himself. He was rubbing her clit through the aftershocks as she collapsed against him. Their breathing was uneven as they both started to come down.

Sara was the first one capable of movement but not much. She eased off of him, collapsing on the bed. She was still panting slightly. “We’re out of practice,” she said.

Michael chuckled softly as he pulled his sweats back up and laid back. “Not our best work,” he admitted. “Sorry about that.”

She rolled over on her side to look at him, smiling softly. “I’m willing to blame both of us.” She watched him for a moment. “I guess we’ll just have to practice. A lot.”

He looked over at her. “Oh I think I could get on board with that.”

Sara chuckled softly as she collapsed back on the bed. They lay on the bed next to each other in silence, just happy to finally be together again.