Classification: TRHA

Rating: NC-17, for some smut here. Gotta have some smut every so often.

Summary: She hasn't driven it yet, but she did get the car. Frohike is alive...but not quite out of the woods yet. Some weird revelations about her boss, and some really decent sex.

Spoilers: Don't think so.

Disclaimer: Not yours and not mine. Not yet. But soon. Property of 1013 Productions and Fox Television.
 

"Lumina
Come and wrap around me..."

"Lumina" by Joan Osborne and Eric Bazilian. Copyright 1995 Mercury Records. Used without permission.
 

Venia Necessitati Datur
 

December 17, 1999

"Well, as you can see," Langly pointed to my sling, "Ally got a bit banged up the other night, and her car's gone to a better place."

"Not true. I loved that car," I protested.

"Yeah, but at least now we don't have to worry about getting the smell out of it," he said happily. He turned to Jaleel. "One of our...houseguests puked all over the upholstery the other night."

Jaleel gave an expression of distaste. "Are all your...houseguests so ill-mannered?"

"No, it's sort of a long story..." I began.

"Frohike had a heart attack Saturday night." Leave it to Langly to go for the subtle approach.

Jaleel looked genuinely alarmed. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? How is he? Will he recover?"

"Okay, answer to the first one is, because I barely get a word in edgewise with you, Jaleel." Langly grinned at him. I grinned as well. I liked the concept of someone talking Langly to death. "Number two, he's getting there. Number three, looks that way."

"Oh, my. I'll need to send him...something special," Jaleel said to no one in particular. "Where is he?"

"Fairfax VA, telemetry unit," Langly answered. "And he's not much in a partying mood, so keep it short and sweet."

"Oh, I'll do that," Jaleel assured him. "So you need a car. What would you be looking for?"

"What do you have?" I inquired.

He laughed. "Anything you want, young lady." He turned to Langly.

Langly looked at him sharply. "Uh, Jaleel, make sure it's got clear title, okay? Ally's sorta picky about those kinds of things."

Jaleel gave a look of total affrontation to Langly. "How could you make such a statement?"

"Because, Jaleel, we know you," he laughed.

"All of my cars have numbers," he reminded Langly sternly.

"Yeah, but not necessarily the ones the manufacturer gave them in the first place." This time Jaleel gave him a Look, one that said, don't go any further, boy. Langly wisely backed down.

"All right. Let's see what we have here." He turned to Langly; I began to get the distinct impression that the two of them were going to conduct the transaction. I knew nothing of Ethiopian culture, but it's possible it may have been one where women were supposed to shut up. I decided not to let Langly go insane with it, but I'd keep quiet as possible so not as to offend
our host.

Jaleel delicately and rapidly pecked away at his computer. Langly gave him the specifications for age, size, price, and preferred manufacturers. Jaleel came up with a printout longer than Langly's arm.

"You've got all these on the lot?" I was amazed.

"No, no. These are ones I can get."

"Are any of them on the lot? I sort of need a car today."

"I'll refine my search, then." He typed in a new set of instructions. The list was shorter, but he did have selection, I'd grant him that.

Langly perused the printout. "Okay, we'll look at the '96 Mustang in red, the Toyota Corolla '95 in seafoam, and the black '98 Neon."

"Come along," Jaleel motioned.
 

"You didn't even let me look at the list," I hissed to Langly on the way out, when I was sure Jaleel was not within earshot.

"Look, be cool, okay? Jaleel...he's not real comfortable negotiating with the ladies, okay?"

I had suspected that, but I was going to have to jump a cultural chasm here. His prices better be good, I thought. And the car had better not have questionable provenance.

I ruled out the Mustang right away, since it stalled on my way out of the parking lot, and I was considering moving over to an automatic. I was going to have a hard time negotiating a five-speed for a while. And driving into DC with a five-speed had given me numb toes on many occasions. The Corolla was functional, but I hated the color and the car just didn't...I don't
know, inspire me.

The Neon was pretty cute, though. It was black, with a gray fabric interior-had the interior been black leather, it would probably have been no go for me. It drove easily, it was only two years old, and it only had 17,000 miles on it. Langly indicated that the felt the mileage in this case was legitimate, which apparently was not always the case when you bought a
vehicle from Jaleel.

Price haggling had begun. It took a considerable amount of time and noise, and I was expected to keep quiet during the proceedings, which was fine. I just wished it would move faster; my arm had really begun to hurt again, and the headache was acquiring more and more unchecked power. A Vicodin or two right now would really be nice, I thought.

At the end of the negotiations, when the keys had been produced and the paperwork signed, along with a postdated check-I'd have to pull money from my money market account to cover it-Langly handed a large envelope to Jaleel, and Jaleel grinned.

"Am I happy today?" he asked Langly.

"You're happy. And there's more from where that came from."

"Good, good. Allison, it was so good to meet you, it's always a pleasure doing business with Langly and his friends.

"Then you don't know him very well," I quipped. I just wanted to go home and dose myself with painkillers. Jaleel found this quite amusing, however, and threw back his head and laughed.

"Langly, I hope you know what you got yourself into. A redhaired woman with a wit. She could be dangerous," he grinned at him.

"She is. C'mon, let's go Ally." He steered me out.

"Don't I get to take the car home?" I whined.

"What, you're gonna drive it in your condition?" he asked in amazement.

"Sure. It's an automatic."

"I don't think so. Not today. We'll go home and then me and Byers'll come back and get it."

"Remind me not to let you spend an afternoon with Jaleel again. His chauvinism rubs off on you," I said tartly as we got back into Byers's Buick.

"Ah, Jaleel's cool. He's just from a whole different kind of world, you know."

"I gathered that." I yawned heavily. "So Langly? What does Jaleel really do?"

"He sells used cars."

"I know that. What does he REALLY do?"

"Jaleel...he knows people."

"We know people."

"Not like Jaleel. Jaleel just has this amazing network. Helps if you've got at least 5,000 close relatives."

"So what does he do with this incredible web of people he knows?"

"He...makes good use of them, if you get my drift."

"And what was it that you gave him?"

"Ally, you ask too many questions sometimes, you know that?" he laughed.
 

I was exhausted when we got home, and the kids had come back from school. Langly, Michael and Byers took off to see Frohike. I passed. Besides, Joanna was coming by in a short time. Might be nice if I was there when my boss showed up.

I had dozed off when the gate buzzed. Miranda checked her credentials, which she did better than me-I was always amazed that guests didn't scream and run when she gave them the third degree. Miranda was born for the paranoid life; I had simply adapted to it.

Joanna came in bearing a large brown bag that was jam-packed with goodies. Christ, Joanna can cook, I thought.

As if reading what was on my mind, she smiled and said, "I love to cook, but not for myself. This gave me an excuse." She set the bag in the kitchen and popped three Corning ware dishes into the oven. She glanced over at my daughter and Shelby. "Which of you is Miranda?"

"That's me," Miranda let her know. "Shelby's my best friend. She just lives here."

"I see." Joanna looked puzzled. "I brought your mail in, Allison."

"Thanks." I looked through the stack-Virginia Power and Light, Visa (which I feared opening), junk mail, more junk mail, offers for life insurance, coupons, and a computer print-out addressed "To the parents/guardian of Roberts, Shelby." With our address. I was puzzled.

"Shelby," I called. "I think this is for your parents."

She looked at me, baffled. "Oh, that. I had my address changed."

I looked at her hard. "Shelby, do you parents know you did this?"

"Well, no." She looked down. "You're not mad, are you, Al'son?"

"Shelby, I'm not angry at all. But this does have some serious...ramifications. We'll talk about this later."

Joanna came back from the kitchen. "In an hour, it'll be dinner. How are you feeling?"

"It's been a long day. I just came back from a unique automotive experience."

"Was your car totaled?"

"Yep. Had to get another one. Which we did."

"What did you get, the Buick out there?"

"No, I got a Plymouth Neon." Which I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever be allowed to drive. "Did you see the girls?"

"I saw them head down the stairs, I think to your basement."

"We call that the dungeon. The kids all sleep down there."

"I was under the impression you only had one child, Allison."

"I've only given birth to one child. We're at three and holding." Michael, in my mind, had not yet acquired full adult status. "Shelby, the other girl? She's Miranda's best bud. And Michael is the son of one of our dearest friends, who is currently in the hospital."

"Oh, dear. What happened?"

"Remember I told you he had a heart attack?"

"Oh, that's right. I'm sorry. How is he?"

"He was okay this morning. Most of the gang here went off to see him."

"You seem rather upset. Do you want to talk about it?"

Shit. Will the real Joanna Gilfillan please come out? I was blown away.

"Well, I just got this notice from the school. It's about Shelby."

"Oh, dear. What happened?"

"Well, according to this notice she's failing algebra I. But what's really creepy is that the notice was sent here. I'm not her legal guardian. She spends about 90 percent of her time here, but she's legally still in the custody and control of her parents. I shouldn't be getting notices regarding her."

"You're right. You shouldn't. And she can't just go in and change her address. Her parents would have to sign something."

"Which I am certain that they did not."

"So how do you think this came to be?" She looked utterly puzzled.

I turned that one over in my mind. Langly...I'm going to have to kill you, I thought. Again.

I simply said, "I'm not sure. But I need to talk to her about it."

Joanna looked genuinely concerned. "Allison, kids do not decide to live at a friend's home-and from what you say, for all practical purposes, she lives here-unless something is terribly wrong. Have you seen any signs of abuse?"

"Well, her mother drinks. And she describes her father as being a ghost.
Apparently he's never there, and when he is, he's asleep or passed out."

"Well, right there, the scenario is problematic. Does she confide in you?"

"Not too much. I think she talks to Miranda a lot, and Miranda will hold a confidence, so there may be things going on which I know nothing about."

"Has Miranda indicated this?"

"A couple of times, when I've asked her if Shelby's okay or something, she'll say something to the effect that she promised Shelby she'd keep a confidence, and I let it go. I've taught her to honor that, Joanna."

"It's Jo. We're not in the office. And I think you should perhaps probe a little more, Allison. You have a situation on your hands where legally, you could begin to have some very serious problems. And if it ever got to that, you'd better know on what ground you're treading."

"Believe me, I did enough time in dependency court to see some of the pitfalls. I don't know Virginia law, but I have to believe that some of the land mines are everywhere." Thinking about my stint in dependency court always made me shudder. I brushed the thoughts back.

"I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did in dependency court. Very few people can tolerate it for that long."

"I couldn't tolerate it. I just didn't know it until I...almost went crazy from it." (She is still your boss, Allison. Watch it.)

"I know that feeling well."

"You didn't ever work in the courts, did you?" Nothing about Joanna suggested she had any sort of legal background.

"No. My original profession was nursing."

"Really." I tried to envision Joanna as a nurse. Unfortunately, I could see her all too well as some of the nurses we'd run across in our recent travails-and we'd been seeing a lot of them. I was wishing they'd assign Frohike some sweet young thing, if only to keep him amused, but at the VA they seemed to go for competent with an attitude.

"You've heard the phrase, 'compassion fatigue,' haven't you?"

"Can't say as I have."

"Well, I didn't know I was suffering from it until it was almost too late.  I've told myself that I'll never fall into that trap again." She sighed. "Sadly, I think it may be one of the reasons why at the ripe old age of 53, I've never been married; I've hardly had any relationships." Joanna, exposing herself? Weirdness. I was a little uneasy. I needed a beer. I figured she could handle my having a Dos Equis. Of course, if I was going to keep my status as hostess with the mostest, I'd have to offer her one, hoping she wouldn't be affronted.

"You're really 53?" I knew Joanna was older than me, but I figured maybe 4 or 5 years.

"And I feel every day of it sometimes." This time she laughed a little. Joanna will never have the accusation of being a giggle-puss leveled at her, which I have many times over.

"Joanna-"

"Jo."

"Would you like a beer? It's Dos Equis."

"Actually, I would. Thank you. I haven't had a beer in God knows how long."

(I remembered how long it had been since my last one, and how many. But then, 3 days is not a long time).

"Here." I popped the lid for her.

"Slante," she raised hers, giving the traditional Irish toast.

"L'chaim," I responded in the Hebrew.

She sipped her beer daintily. "So where is your fiance, Allison?"

"I suspect they're still at the VA. They'll probably come back soon to work. He and his friends have a...side business."

"I see." She looked down at her hands. "I brought enough for a few extra people."

"Like about 80, from what I could tell." That made her laugh. "Joanna, you cook like a Jewish mother. I should know." She liked that. But I still couldn't use her nickname, and I wasn't ready to let her use mine.

"What do you do when you're not working?" she asked me.

"What do I do when I'm not working?" I had to think about that one. "I don't really know. I read when I have the time. I schlepp kids around. I cook. And I cook some more."

"I know what you do, Allison," she said, smiling. "I think your hobby is taking care of people." That made me laugh out loud.

"What makes you think it's a hobby with me?"

That made her laugh. "Allison. You have a houseful of people at any given time. Your fiance has a side business here in the backyard. Your daughter's best friend virtually lives over here. You've got the son of one of your friends, whom I get the impression you previously were not well acquainted with, living in your basement. You looked as if you spent every
waking moment in the hospital with your fiance when he was ill. You look like someone who makes herself available 24/7 to anyone who needs you." She sipped her beer. "And that's dangerous sometimes."

"I don't think so," I countered. And I don't.

"Not in and of itself. But you also...I noticed when your fiance was ill, you were getting very short-tempered and exhausted, but you wouldn't acknowledge it."

"Didn't have time." And I wasn't getting a lot of sleep, I wanted to add.

"Just...don't run yourself into the ground, that's all I'm saying. I've done it. The results are not very attractive sometimes." She sighed. "That's why I had to get out of nursing."

"I'm sorry. Do you miss it?"

"No." She shook her head slowly. "I don't. I used to. And I felt really guilty for a long time that I couldn't do it anymore."

"Why?"

"I think...my experiences in Vietnam had contributed to it. I did two tours over there."

"Ouch," I winced.

"I didn't even know how it affected me for a very long time." I was still not at ease with the idea of Joanna in an expository mode. It was strange.

"When were you there?"

"'68 to '72."

"Heavy things going down then."

"Yes." She wanted to talk about it, and she didn't. I'd let her pick up the thread here.

"Our friend who's in the hospital is a vet," I commented.

"Really? What branch was he attached to?"

"Army. I don't know what unit or anything. I don't even know exactly when he was there. He doesn't talk about it much."

"Most of us don't." She studied her beer bottle. "This is very good, by the way. I haven't had Dos Equis since I was in the service."

I could hear a four-cylinder car pull into the driveway. "I think they're back," I announced.

"Well, dinner should be ready soon."

"Wait here." I wasn't sure they'd warm to the idea of my showing Joanna around their offices. I grabbed my keys and went outside. "I'll get them."

I walked outside into the startlingly cold air-we were back down in the single digits. Byers saw me first.

"Ally, what are you doing out here without a coat on?" he reproached.

"Hey, broken arm not enough? You wanna get pneumonia, too?" Langly walked over and hugged me.

"No, I wanted to let you know that my boss is here."

"She came to fire you in person?" he teased.

"Not funny, babe. Not even. No, she brought dinner."

"Cool. Probably not as good as what you make, though." I got a very warm, soft kiss on the mouth. How did he do it? It was freezing out here, but he still managed to kiss warm.

"Well, I figured you might want to...she doesn't know what you do. Just thought I'd warn you she was here."

"And is she as much of a battle-axe as you thought?" he said lightly.

"No. She's...surprising. I guess I didn't know what to expect of her."

"Well, if she's anywhere near as weird as we are..." I laughed.

"Where's Michael?"

"Still with Dad. He promised he'd behave."

"You going to get him later?"

"Guess if we expect to get any work out of him, we'll have to."

"Should've given him a laptop."

"I think not," Byers said tartly. Which surprised me a little. "Not yet, anyway."

"You guys don't trust the little shit yet, do you?" I asked both of them.

"Not hardly," was Langly's terse reply. We made our way up the stairs and into the kitchen, where Joanna was still nursing her beer.

"This is Joanna Gilfillan, my boss. Joanna, this is my fiance, Langly, and this is John Byers, his associate."

"A pleasure," she extended her hand to each. "Food should be just about ready."

"I'll get the girls to set the table and serve up," I got up and moved towards the door to the basement.

"No need. I brought disposable dinnerwear." She held up a plastic bag that had been nestled inside the paper one.

"Cool. No dishes," Langly grinned.

"You're talking to Mr. Domesticated here," I flicked my uninjured hand towards him.

"Hey, I'm domesticated," he protested. "I just don't like housework."

"Like any of us do," Joanna concurred.

"I'll admit...I'd rather do almost anything else." It was Byers. "But notice I did qualify it with 'almost.'"

I retrieved my girls, and we dined in comfort, if not exactly style, at the dining room table. Joanna could cook, and quite well. She cooked very much in the East Coast tradition-not a lot of spice or seasoning, but good, rib-sticking fare that would make us all sleep well tonight.

"Allison," she asked near the end of dinner, "what will your married name be?"

"My new one? Langly."

"So..." she looked puzzled.

"He uses his last name."

"Using my first name can make me homicidal." His tone was light, but I knew better than to open my mouth.

"Joanna, what is it that you do?" Byers inquired politely.

"Director of Services for Disabled Students, Catholic University." He had to know that already; he did, after all, hack into their database to get me this job, but he was not one to circumvent convention and good manners. Unlike certain blondes I was well acquainted with, I giggled to myself.

"Did I say something funny?" Joanna looked baffled again.

"Don't mind Ally. She's a hopeless giggle-puss," Langly waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. Then he did a nice save by coming over to me and giving me a tender, affectionate hug. "It's one of the things I love about her, her warped sense of humor." That got me a very sweet kiss. He was in a cuddly mood tonight. Maybe I'd have to postpone killing him...at least
until later.

"And what is it that you do, Langly?" I really didn't talk much about him to her, not at any sort of level beyond keeping her apprised of status.

"Work for the Feds," he said.

"That covers at least half of the population of northern Virginia."

"I'm included in that half, I guess," he smiled at her. He could be charming, even when he was being a smartass.

"And...John, you said your name was? I'm sorry, I'm very bad with names."

"Professor of Public Policy, the American University," he said simply.

"Another denizen of academia," I added.

"Allison, you said you had another child living here," Joanna looked puzzled. She'd been looking that way a lot since arriving at our house.

"Michael. He's with his dad. His dad's the one in the hospital." She seemed to be having trouble keeping track of all the players.

"That's right, you said he was at the VA. What unit is he on?"

"Telemetry," Byers answered her.

"I should see if my friend Cecilia is taking care of him. She's on that unit. What's his name?"

"Melvin Frohike," I answered.

"What's she look like?" Langly demanded.

"Why, are you checking out the scenery?" I taunted lightly.

"Ally! How could you suggest such a thing?" He hugged me again. Okay, maybe I wouldn't kill him tonight.

"Easily, babe. You're a male. The Y chromosome does strange things to someone's brain." That got a laugh from both Langly and Joanna, and a blush from Byers. Poor guy. In his next life he should be a brunette, I thought.

"Cecilia...her name is Cecilia Altamonte. I'll have to remember to ask her."

Langly leaned over and brushed my ear with his mouth. "Probably one of the big beautiful women there." I smacked him lightly.

Langly and Byers departed for points in the backyard, and Joanna and the girls got up to do the dishes. I still wasn't allowed to get the cast wet, so I hung back. While I don't love doing dishes, it felt very odd to be in my own kitchen, not doing my own work. I felt restless and out of sorts. And while Joanna was certainly warmer than I expected in some ways, I was exhausted, my arm was bothering me, and the headache started to pump up the volume.

Joanna talked with the girls about Christmas plans. We hadn't really made any, but that didn't stop Miranda and Shelby from wishing that we would.

"Mom, you did promise Shelby a tree. And Langly said we needed one," Miranda reminded me.

"Take it up with Langly. I'm not exactly in the right shape to go Christmas tree shopping," I balked.

"We could go and get a tree," Joanna suggested to the girls.

"Like right now?" Miranda was amazed.

"Why not? I have enough room in my car, provided the tree isn't too large."

"Joanna, you don't need to," I objected, but she held up her hand.

"Please. The girls really want one. And you're in no shape, and your fiance seems very busy. I'd be glad to do it." She was almost begging me.

"It's really kind of you to offer, but there's a problem."

"Oh?"

"I have nothing to put on a tree. We've never done Christmas in our house before."

"That's right, you're Jewish."

"Shelby's not, and Langly's not."

"Is he Catholic?"

"He's not anything religious. Unless you call computers a religious icon." That didn't seem to tickle her. I'd best not poke fun at her Catholicism, if in fact it was the cause of her lack of humor on the subject. I had no idea. This is why you avoid bringing your boss home, I contemplated. "The only people in this house who are Catholic would be Michael and Frohike, and they don't practice."

"I see." She finished the last of the dishes. "You don't mind if we pick out a tree, do you?"

"Let me get you some money," I got up to search for my purse. In view of its size, it's amazing that I displace it as often as I do.

"No. Let me," she asked.

"If you're certain." I wasn't terribly comfortable with the idea, but if it was important to her, I'd let her run with it.
 

I fell asleep-again. This was getting old. I hoped to get to a place where I felt somewhat consistently energetic again. The bursts of energy I had were short-lived right now, and they were always tempered with a headache and a sore arm. And the cast was beginning to make me itch. I was going to be a real shrew by the time this was over, I thought glumly.

Most of all, I hated being at the mercy of everyone around me. The control freak in me does not approve.

I never heard Joanna or the girls come back, and I only woke up when Langly roused me from the sofa.

"Hey." He shook me on my right arm. "Time for bed, little red."

"I don't wanna move," I grumbled drowsily. I'd gotten comfortable; I didn't want to have to do it all over again.

"C'mon," he urged gently.

"I'm not moving," I said recalcitrantly, being more awake now.

"Okay, if that's the way you're going to be," he shrugged. I figured he'd just move on to bed and leave me on the sofa. Not so.

I tensed up as he picked me up, being careful of my arm that was in the sling. He laughed at me gently.

"Relax, I'm not gonna drop you." I gave in and snuggled against him. I felt about five years old.

"C'mon, let's get ready for bed," he set me down and placed himself against me, pressing himself into my abdomen and giving me a deep, open-mouthed kiss.

"Babe, you keep doing this, and you're going to make me very horny," I threatened.

"Would that be so bad?" He murmured as he planted more kisses on my neck, unbuttoning my shirt and placing some more on my shoulders.

"I've got a headache, my arm is killing me, and how are we gonna do anything with the damn sling and the cast?"

He laughed softly. "Details, details." He finished slipping off my shirt. "You know, Ally, I kind of like that you can't get your bra on right now." The right breast was available to him, and he bent down and placed a warm mouth over my nipple. I gasped.

He began to remove my skirt, which was not a complicated task, but the boots were going to require some work.

"Of all the shoes available in the world, my woman has to wear Doc Martens," he grumbled as he undid the laces hastily.

"They keep my feet warm," I reminded him.

"Not anymore," he announced triumphantly as he pulled off the second one. He then slipped me out of my socks and leggings and undies. I was totally naked before him, and totally exposed.

"No fair," I complained. "How'm I supposed to return the favor?"

"Not the object of the exercise," he said softly, kissing me some more. "Ally. Do me a favor. Just lie back and enjoy, okay? For a change. Just worry about being comfortable for yourself."

"I can't enjoy making love unless my partner is enjoying it."

"Trust me, he is. Now relax." He laid me down in the bed, and I closed my eyes. I could hear clothes being shed, and I opened my eyes again to catch a glimpse. God, he was gorgeous. Thin, but well-put together. He shook his mane of light hair down his back, and I thought I was going to die and go to heaven right there. And then there was his ass...the cutest ass on
the planet, I thought. No, in the universe.

"Tell me," I whispered, "did you always fantasize about going to bed with a girl who can't even untie her shoelaces?"

"Not specifically. I did, however, always want to undress you without you trying to help." He grinned.

"You should've said something," I murmured.

"Well, in some instances, there is something to be said for speed," he smiled happily. "But not now. Sit up, can you?" I eased myself up, and he began to slowly massage my shoulders-I'd had no idea how much they ached from the accident until he started to ease the tension out of them. I felt like I was melting. I leaned into him, and he kissed my hair.

"I'm glad you got your hair permed. You know I like the curls," he whispered. He worked his way down my back, which to my surprise had been knotted up totally until it came under the influence of those slender, strong fingers.

"Better?" he asked quietly as I murmured happily.

"Oh, yeah."

"Good." He eased me on to my right side. "You comfortable?"

"Yeah." I felt myself swimming in a sea of warmth. He handled me so tenderly, like I was made of glass, even as he spooned himself around my backside, planting kisses on the back of my neck and my shoulders. He wrapped his arms around my hips and I could feel heat building in my abdomen. He pulled himself tighter against me, and I gave out a small cry.

"That hurt you?" he whispered.

"No...nothing like that," I said gently. "I just...want you so bad."

"You'll have me," he promised, wrapping one leg over me. "God, you're so little! I feel like I'm gonna swallow you up!"

"Want me to swallow you instead?" I beckoned.

"Ally, if you do that, I'm gonna come all over the place in about ten seconds. No. Let me." He came around to the other side of me, examining every inch of skin, some of which was pretty bruised. I studied his. He had returned to his creamy color, although there were a few scars left from our excellent adventure in the summertime. The hair on him was soft and downy, and I snuggled into his chest and soaked up his scent. He smelled like...he smelled like Langly. I could never quite name the fragrance. It was a combination of Ivory Soap-he was allergic to anything else, generally a very faint touch of sweat-he was, after all, a guy-and just the scent that was uniquely him. I could never get enough of it. I stroked his nipples gently and he softly put my hand down.

"Ally, I'm not ready," he moaned.

"Is anything I do gonna make you come?" I whispered.

"Yeah. God I wantyouIwantyouIwantyou..." he lowered his mouth to the one breast that wasn't concealed by my sling and ran a slender finger along the underside of the one that was. Softness gave way to a more urgent, tugging sensation, and I wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. I was whimpering already.

"Not yet," he whispered. He was torturing me, and we were both enjoying it exquisitely. His mouth traveled down to my belly and my thighs, and I was going almost insane from the pleasure of it. He moved again around to my back, wrapping his long arms around me, clasping me into him.

"Now?" I murmured to him.

"Now." He was almost choking when he said it. He was spooned around me and I felt him slide in easily, gently, but the gentleness didn't last long. He came like a shockwave, coming the closest to screaming I'd ever heard him. He settled for a moment, and instead of relaxing into his usual post-coital cuddle, he called my name hoarsely.

"Ally. Again. It's gonna happen again...Jesus!" He shuddered again, and I felt myself join him. I was drowning in a sea of semen and sweat, and it was his. Exquisite.

He actually needed several minutes to recover normal breathing. For me, it was as if I were bathed in light. I could feel heat rising from my skin, all my sore muscles melting into a liquid pool. We didn't move out of our spooned position. I just felt myself fall into him, no resistance.

When he could verbalize again, he was smiling, eyes still dark from passion a few minutes earlier.

"That...was incredible."

"Yeah." I was almost asleep.

"I love ya, ya know."

"I love you, and you know it," I assured him. "Even if I wasn't a particularly active participant."

"Sometimes...the best stuff happens...if you just kick back and relax."

We both were rapidly asleep.

END OF PART 42