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It was if no time had passed at all.
They saw each other every day, of course. They spent more time in each other's company than with anyone else. That hadn't changed. But it had been months since they had been together like this- until he came back to his dressing room and saw a cryptic text waiting for him on his phone.
'can you come over? peter's gone'
She had finished shooting for the day before him, and while she used to wait around for him on set when this happened, lately she'd been leaving right away to go home and rest. It was understandable, though. Pregnancy was taking its toll on her, and no matter how much she smiled and laughed and told everyone she felt great, she could only keep up the facade for so long.
It was also understandable that certain parts of their relationship had cooled off considerably over the last year or so. She went off the pill as soon as she got back from her honeymoon, and although they always used a condom, she seemed too preoccupied to really enjoy herself. When he asked her about it and she blamed it on being paranoid about an 'accident', he suspected there was more to it than that but he never challenged her on it. She was trying to play the dutiful wife, he knew, but couldn't (or wouldn't) come right out and tell him I can't do this anymore.
Not that they went through a complete dry spell. Like the good Catholic girl she was raised to be, she seemed to have adopted the attitude that they could do 'everything but' and her virtue would still remain intact. So as long as there was never any actual penetration and they both stayed half-dressed, it was all fair game, including the time she got down on her knees for him in his trailer while the mister was just down the block.
(He tried not to feel smug about it. He tried to force himself to feel guilty, but that didn't stop him from smirking a little whenever the other man looked in his direction for the rest of the afternoon.)
And then she got pregnant, and once again everything changed. It took all her strength to keep up with their shooting schedule in between the aches and exhaustion and morning sickness of the first trimester, meaning she didn't exactly have any leftover energy to devote to fooling around in between scenes. He did everything he could for her, rubbing her back and making sure she ate and letting her fall asleep on his shoulder and it just felt natural, taking care of her like that. As much as he hated seeing her miserable, it made him feel good that she trusted him enough to be that vulnerable in front of him. And as much as he understood why sex was the last thing on her mind at the time- he couldn't lie to himself. He missed it.
So now here she was, texting him to come over without giving any other details besides the mention that Peter's gone (and he knows this is temporary, that Peter flew out west to visit relatives last night, but the selfish part of him still wished it had meant 'gone for good'). She didn't say she needed a favor, or that she wanted to run lines, or even that she was bored and just wanted to talk. He could fill in the blanks.
Thus it wasn't surprising when she answered the door looking freshly showered, still-damp hair pulled back in a messy bun and the tiniest bit of makeup on her face. She was wearing a pale pink satiny robe- with God knows what underneath- and he was struggling not to stare openly at her cleavage and the way the sash around her middle accentuated her now unmistakable baby bump.
He let her take the lead. He sat down on the couch where she told him to sit, drank the beer she handed him, and tried to focus on something other than how she smelled so good and how just being here next to her while she made small talk was enough for his dick to start twitching in his jeans.
And then just when he was wondering if he misread the situation, if she really just wanted someone to listen to her while she compiled a mental list of renovations she wanted done on the Hamptons house, the conversation changed. Did he know she hadn't had sex since she found out she was pregnant?
I can't say I did, he managed to reply.
It's not like either of them were particularly shy when it came to talking about sex- or anything, really- but they didn't talk about their personal sex lives all that often, for obvious reasons. It was something he preferred not to think about; her having sex with her husband, and it was the same for her when it came to him. He knew enough, though. He knew that her relationship with Peter, even when they were dating, was made up of long patches of celibacy offset by the occasional sexual interlude. It wasn't bad sex, she'd told him; it just didn't happen all that often and she was mostly okay with that. He was the picture perfect husband and family man she'd always wanted. They looked good together in public and in private he was a loyal companion who she loved deeply, even if there was no 'spark' there. Besides, she had other ways of getting her needs met.
And that's where he came in. Sometimes he wondered if he was a fool for not feeling slightly used, but then she'd smile at him from across their Benson-and-Stabler desks and that was all it took to set him straight. She had loved him even before she had any idea that Peter even existed, back when his wife was the only thing in between them, back when it all seemed so simple in comparison. And maybe that's what truly makes him a fool, that he didn't fight harder for her when he had the chance. He asked her on the day before her wedding- what would she have said if he'd tried to keep her from getting engaged? If he had told her right in that moment that he would give it all up for her, would she have accepted his counteroffer? She didn't answer. But a few hours later, as she was searching for her clothes on the hotel room floor and wiping smeared eyeliner off her face, she turned to look at him over her shoulder and, in a tiny voice, whispered 'yes'.
Of course, by then it was too late. But it didn't change what either of them felt for one another and they stayed as close as ever, even as some 'adjustments' were made to the sexual part of their relationship once she started trying for a baby.
Which, according to her, was what ruined any hope of an improved sex life between her and Peter. She liked to tell people a fairytale version of her baby's conception, that they just let nature take its course until one day the dream of a positive pregnancy test became reality. He's not sure why it's so important to her that everyone believe this version of events, but he still would never betray her by telling everyone the truth- that her 'miracle' was the result of months of pills and injections and doctor visits and methodical record keeping followed by more doctor visits. And she would do it all again, she assured him, but for a couple who already struggled in that area, having frequent sex on a preset schedule pretty much took what little fun there was right out of it. So once they'd accomplished their objective, she was more than happy to take a break ('as if it's even possible to feel sexy in the first place when you're throwing up all the time,' she had said).
But now she was well into her second trimester and had finally turned the corner. She wasn't constantly sick, she wasn't completely exhausted...but she was horny. Only problem was, she seemed to be the only one. "I can't tell if it's...if it has to do with the baby being right there, if that's too weird for him, or if now he just sees me as the mother of his child and not his wife, or if...I dunno. He says it's not- but what if its me? What if there's just zero attraction there anymore?"
Then your husband's even more of an idiot than I thought, he says, and she rolls her eyes like he's not completely dead fucking serious. But he is. He wants to tell her that the way her face glows when she talks about the baby or when he rubs her belly is the single most incredible thing he's ever seen in his life, but he knows she won't believe him. So instead he'll just have to show her.
She promises him he shouldn't feel 'obligated', as if sex with her would be some kind of chore, and that she'd understand if he was uncomfortable with the thought of being with her while she was pregnant, as if he hadn't been jerking off to this very idea more days than not. He just guides her toward the bedroom, promises he'll take care of her; doesn't he always?
They start kissing and his hand reaches for the sash on her robe- yeah, maybe he's being a little overeager, but it's been months and he needs to see her, even at the risk of coming in his pants from the sight alone. She hesitates all of a sudden, puts her hand over his to stop him, and he immediately backs off.
'Are you sure you want to do this?' she asks, and he would laugh if he didn't know better. He assures her again that yes, he very much wants this, but she still bites her lip and keeps her eyes trained on her hands as she unties the satin knot.
His sharp intake of breath is what finally gets her to look up at him, and that's all it takes for her nervous frown to turn into the coy grin he's so familiar with. She pushes the robe off her shoulders and lets it slide down her arms on its own. "You like?"
He doesn't even have the words for it. She's stunning, and he hasn't even taken his eyes off of her breasts yet. They're barely contained by her pale pink bra, so much so that he can almost see her nipples peeking out over the top of the sheer material, and he can't even pretend he's not staring.
"You're allowed to touch, you know," she says, and that's all the invitation he needs. He shifts so that her back is against his chest and they're both facing the full-length mirror on the wall. "Chris..."
"Sssh, trust me. Just watch."
He unclasps her bra and she does the rest of the work, dropping it on the floor next to her feet as he leans forward so they're almost cheek to cheek. She promises him that yes, she'll tell him if it's too much, and then he's cupping her breasts in his palms, taking in the feel of their new weight.
He's always been a breast man and fortunately for him, she's always been happy to let him indulge. There's been times when he's spent a whole half hour just exploring them with his hands and mouth, barely touching her otherwise except to tease her clit with his fingers now and then, and even with just that he was able to make her come in a way he's pretty sure her husband never has.
(Not like he's awfully proud of himself for that or anything).
She sighs softly when he starts tracing the curves of her breasts with his thumbs, when he massages them carefully and rolls her nipples between his fingers. They're bigger now, darker, and all he can think about is getting them in his mouth.
Her eyes meet his in the mirror, studying their reflections and the sight of his hands on her. For a moment he wonders if she's going to get self-conscious, going to look away, but she just reaches out and clasps her hands behind his head to pull him closer.
He keeps on playing with her nipples as her moans get louder. It's practically a crime that so of their encounters over the years have taken place in semi-public spaces (trailers, dressing rooms, the holding cell on set when they thought no one was around), because she isn't hesitant at all about making noise when given the opportunity.
She arches her back and he lets his hands wander over her belly, and the sound she makes seems to surprise even her. "That good?"
"Yeah, I...wow. Fuck."
She's still holding onto him as he continues to caress the swell of her abdomen, and he's never going to be able to casually rub her baby bump in public again without taking the chance of developing a massive hard-on. Not when she's groaning and cursing his name like she's going to get off on this alone. Her head is starting to loll to one side, resting on his shoulder, and he takes pity on her when he sees the way she's squirming against the mattress in search of some relief. "Let's get these off, huh?"
She lifts her hips up so that he can hook his thumbs around her underwear and pull them down over her ass, and then she pushes them past her thighs until they're on the floor with everything else. He sits back so that she can spread her legs a little wider and he can already smell it on her, the scent of her arousal, and it's taking every last bit of his self control to not bend her over and take her right now. She's so wet that he's able to easily slip a finger inside her while he uses his free digits to stroke her outer lips.
He stops what he's doing when she tries rubbing herself against the heel of his palm, taking her hand in his and placing it over her breast with a murmured instruction to touch herself for him. She's not shy at all when it comes to this- he still remembers the first time he saw her naked and his shock at how his little California princess of a co-star had so sweetly suggested that maybe he'd want to watch her get herself off (not surprisingly, he did, and it was the single most erotic thing he'd ever seen in his life). She eagerly complies, and he keeps his eyes trained on her in the mirror as his finger dips back into her wetness. He still avoids touching her clit, except to occasionally circle the tiny bud with his thumb, and when he does she whimpers and tugs on her nipples a little harder. She's so tight that even two fingers feels like a stretch, so the thought of what it's going to feel like inside her is almost too much to bear.
He gently nudges her to lie down, dark hair fanning out across the pillow, and uses this break in the action to free his dick from the confines of his jeans. She watches him approvingly, but he shakes his head to let her know she'll have to wait. Not yet. He lies down beside her, urging her onto her side before capturing one of her nipples in between his lips and suckling it, drawing more of her breast into his mouth as he lavishes it with his tongue. His hand cradles her stomach, running his palm over the taut skin. Part of him would be content to do this forever-- until he notices how her inner thighs are glistening and it's an invitation he can't ignore.
She rolls onto her back and lets him settle between her legs as he kisses her belly tenderly. He can't wait to see her face the first time she feels the baby kicking, can't wait to feel it for himself. It may not be his child, but he's in love already, because how could he not love something that's a part of her? He wonders what she would think if she knew how bittersweet it feels when he thinks about the birth, how he feels knowing that he has no place there in the biggest moment of her life.
Times like those are when the regret hits him the hardest, when he realizes that this is all they'll ever have. But for now, she is all his, and nothing can take that away from them. She keeps a hand on his head as he licks a path up the inside of her thigh, nails scratching at his scalp as he wastes no time before parting her with his fingers and kissing her hungrily from her entrance to her clit and then back down again. He inhales her scent, lapping at her wetness and stopping only to soothe her swollen clit with the flat of his tongue. "Oh god...Chris, Chris you gotta stop, I can't..."
He looks up, alarmed. "Are you okay? Did I- ?"
"No, no, it's not like that. I'm fine. But." She pauses, trying to catch her breath.
"But?"
"I'm going to lose my mind if you don't fucking stick your dick in me right now."
That was another thing he had quickly discovered about his co-star- not only did she have slight exhibitionist tendencies, she also had an incredibly dirty mouth. She's trying hard not to smile and he's doing the same as he sits back on his heels. "You sure? Cause it's probably going to be even quicker than normal."
It was a running joke between them that sex never seemed to last long, partially because they'd had to become masters at the quick fuck and partially because he seemed to have the stamina of a teenage boy when it came to her. Fortunately for them both, he was skilled enough to be able to make sure she got off before he did, and he had a blessedly short recovery time.
"I don't care, baby, I'm so close anyway, I just need you to-"
"To what?"
"To fuck me." She gets up on her hands and knees, testing this position, then looks over her shoulder at him and nods. "This is good."
"Are you sure? Maybe it'd be easier if you were on your side and-"
"How are you gonna fuck me hard like that?" she asks pointedly. "I'm fine. I can put my weight on my arms and my stomach won't be in the way. Now come on."
He's staring straight at her ass and it's impossible to do any logical reasoning like this. He runs his hands over it, reaches between her legs to be sure she's ready before he aligns himself with her entrance and sinks inside her. It takes a moment for her to adjust to the stretch, but then she groans and pushes her ass back toward him, finally taking him in all the way.
He settles into a steady rhythm, reaching around so that he can touch her breasts and stomach as he fucks into her. She's getting louder, moaning things into the pillow that he can't quite understand, but he gets the general message. Harder. He tries to be careful as he clutches onto her hips for better leverage, not wanting to mark her in a way she'd struggle to explain away. But God, how he wishes he could.
"Say it," he tells her, pulling out until only the tip of his cock is inside her and then thrusting forward, filling her again. "Say you're mine."
"I'm yours." The sound of the words seems to travel straight to his groin. His balls already feel impossibly tight as they keep slapping against her ass, and he struggles not to lose it right then and there.
"All mine."
"All yours. You're- shit- the only one who does this to me, baby. Just you."
He growls as he starts rubbing her clit, knowing he's not going to last much longer. "Come for me, Rish, c'mon."
The force of her orgasm has her muscles clenching so tightly around him that he can barely move as he spills into her. She shudders again as he keeps touching her, and she's exhausted and oversensitive but he still manages to coax a few more aftershocks out of her before she drops onto her elbows and buries her face in the pillow.
He pulls out gently, carefully, and he's alarmed when he sees her shoulders start to shake. Her face is still hidden and for a moment he fears the worst. "Babe, what is it- d'you feel alright? Is-"
She looks up at him and he can't tell if she's laughing or crying or both until she clutches both of his hands in hers and beams at him in a way he'll remember for the rest of his life.
"When...after I. I finally felt him kick."