Special Episode: Key
This episode is part of a larger story, Soft Touch. If you haven’t yet, you can go back and read it from the beginning right here. The episode below is NSFW and contains mature content.
A gentle, dusky spring rain is falling, tapping against the windows of Ralph’s house.
Calla is sublimely cozy and peaceful, softly nestled into the blankets on Ralph’s couch. She snuggles a little deeper into the warmth of his arms, closes her eyes.
It’s been, just - a really nice night.
Ralph had the fireplace lit when Calla stepped in out of the rain. Its dry warmth had spread and settled over the living room, along with its soft, low light. She had texted him to say that she’d already eaten, but he’d gone out and picked up dessert for the two of them, those small melty chocolate cakes Calla tends to snag for herself from the local bakery whenever she visits Ketterbridge.
And Ralph had a snack ready, too. It was - kind of a surprising choice, for him? He eats pretty simply, but tonight he had warm and crunchy baguette slices with some soft, rich cheese to spread on them. Some kind of minty drink to go with it, sweet and cool.
Calla doesn’t know where that came from, and she’s a tiny bit suspicious about it. But she liked it.
She liked that it led to a long, slow meal at Ralph’s kitchen table, the soft light around them, the rain pattering against the windows right next to them as they talked.
His house plant - now with three delicate flowers, and one more bud starting to slowly unsheathe - sat on the table beside them, putting off its soft green fragrance when the wind blew gently through the windows.
Ralph has been teasing and playful, making Calla laugh all night. She feels like his hands have kept coming back to her over and over again, until somehow they’ve left a lingering warmth behind.
Somewhere in the middle of their conversation Calla told Ralph about her love for those old romantic movies from decades past. She thought he would probably tease her about that, too.
“Really?” he’d said, smiling at her with warm surprise, leaning his chin on his palm. “You?”
“I know it doesn’t seem like something I’d be into, but yeah. They make me feel romantic.” Calla made a face at him. “Wasn’t getting a lot of that in real life. Until recently.”
Ralph’s smile widened, then stopped. He paused for a second, his eyes growing thoughtful.
“Let’s watch one,” he said suddenly.
Calla was startled by the offer, then reluctant to accept it. She doesn’t normally watch them with anyone besides her grandma. If the person doesn’t like whatever movie she picks, if they make fun of it or dismiss it - something so cherished and special to her - she knows that she would be upset. She’s fiercely protective about the things she loves. Better not to take the risk at all.
But Ralph watched quietly, attentively. He kept Calla locked in his arms the whole time, her back leaning against his chest. He laughed at the funny parts, which made Calla inordinately happy. When the starlet of the movie appeared at the top of the stairs in her stunning dress, fabric flowing around her like she floated there out of a dream, Ralph gave Calla a squeeze.
“It’s you,” he murmured softly in her ear.
She let out a startled laugh and swatted him over her shoulder. “It’s Ginger Rogers, dummy.”
But she was blushing hard, smiling radiantly. Warm in the low glow of the fire, and in Ralph’s arms.
Now the outro music of Top Hat is playing softly from the TV, and Ralph and Calla are cuddled up beneath the blankets. Did Ralph always have blankets on his couch? Calla can’t remember, but these ones are deliciously comfy and feel like they might be new.
They’re velvet soft on her skin, toasty against the rainy night. She and Ralph built up a lot of shared body heat during the movie. He’s lounging back into the corner of the couch, and she’s turned over to lay on him.
She feels strangely sheltered in his warm embrace. She almost protested out loud when he lifted his hands off of her, but then he started massaging his fingertips slowly and deeply into her back, and she’s just fine with that.
Actually, she feels - like she’s starting to melt against Ralph. Unwound with all the warmth, the easy comfort, the close and quiet intimacy, the constant caresses of his hands. She likes how it feels, to be in his hands. To lay stretched out with her head on his chest and her body between his parted knees. The quiet chirping of the crickets through the rainfall.
“I liked that movie.” Ralph sinks in his knuckles at either side of Calla’s spine, leaving her muscles warm and tingling. “Kinda surprised. I lowkey thought I wouldn’t, if we’re still doing strict honesty.”
Calla hides her smile against his chest. “You don’t have to say that just for my sake.”
“Right. But I’m not.” Ralph lightly passes his fingertips over her buzzed hair, sending a little shiver down her back. “The guy in the movie acted like an idiot, pissed the girl off the very first time they met. But she forgave him, liked him anyways. Pretty sweet.”
Calla laughs softly, knowing exactly why Ralph would like that.
She'd seen the worst of him right off the bat, the first time they met. But then she'd seen that he was more than that. She’s not a big believer in second chances, but she’s glad she made an exception this time.
Calla snuggles her face into Ralph, so comfy and content that she never wants to leave. The rain falling outside makes everything more intimate, more close. It’s a light spring shower, but it’s enough of an excuse for her to camp out at Ralph’s place for the night instead of driving all the way back to Port Sitka.
“Might stay over, if that’s cool,” she murmurs, all casual. “It’s getting late, and the rain, and everything-”
“Yeah, stay,” he says instantly, the happy relief obvious in his voice.
Calla smiles, then hums softly to herself without thinking, the melody of Isn’t This A Lovely Day To Be Caught In The Rain.
It’s from the movie they just watched, and Ralph, despite this being his first viewing, clearly recognizes it. She feels him go still.
He bends to press a lingering kiss onto the top of her head. She can feel him smiling as he does it.
Calla blushes a little. Who would ever have guessed that the Warlord was capable of such tender, gentle kisses?
That soft heat that’s been gathering all over Calla’s body all night is beginning to pool within her, to saturate her.
Suddenly she wants to lift her head and kiss Ralph deep down into the couch cushions.
But she doesn’t move, doesn’t do it.
Calla has been loving the unexpected benefit of taking things slow: a lot of long, sexy, unhurried make-out sessions. But lately those have been leading to frustration that’s starting to drive her fucking crazy. She doesn’t want to ruin tonight with that.
At the same time, if she stays snuggled up on Ralph like this, she’s gonna kiss him.
Calla hesitates, then quickly gets up and stretches her arms over her head. Her body gives a silent little cry of protest and disappointment when she draws away from Ralph.
He lets her go, looking up at her like he’s thinking about something, but she’s not sure what.
A ripple of soft blue moves in Calla’s peripheral vision. She turns her head, narrows her eyes, then pads silently across the living room. She stops in front of the coat hooks near the front door, staring in surprise at what’s hanging from the middle one.
It’s Calla’s deep blue dress. The one she wore to Melanie’s wedding. Calla had thought it was ruined, given that she’d taken a dip in the ocean wearing it. She had borrowed some sweatpants and a shirt from Ralph the morning after the wedding, then left the dress at his place, assuming he would toss it.
But here it is, falling neatly from a dry cleaning hanger. The shimmering, silky fabric actually looks okay, somehow.
Calla touches her fingertips to the folds of blue, then senses Ralph behind her. She didn’t hear him come over, but then again, he’s one of the very few people who can sneak up on her.
She looks at him over her shoulder and finds him leaning back against the wall, silently watching her.
“Did you take it to the dry cleaner?” she asks.
“Didn’t know how to fix it myself.”
“Well, yeah, but I mean - I thought you’d probably throw it out. I had already given up on it. Looked like a lost cause, to me.”
Ralph’s face is half in the shadows, but Calla can see the small smile pulling at his lips.
“Want to see you in it again,” he murmurs softly, looking at her with dreamy memories in his eyes.
Calla bites her lip, staring at him. The warmth running over her body, the cool fabric against her fingertips - somehow it all seems to give her a soft, enticing push towards Ralph. She turns slowly around to face him, desperate to kiss him, to do a lot more than that.
But there’s an all-out war raging in her chest, pinning her in place.
Ralph’s eyes linger on her for a long moment. He seems to understand, because he says -
“You want me to take the couch? You can have the bed.”
Calla nods in relief, and Ralph nods, too. He steps closer, then gives her a long, warm, lingering kiss, his hand cradling the back of her head.
“Down here if you need anything,” he says softly.
~~~~
I do need something, Calla thinks in blank frustration, staring at the ceiling of Ralph’s bedroom after her shower.
She lays there for a long, long time, struggling with herself. Then she gets up, straightens out her spandex shorts and her sports bra, and quietly pads downstairs.
She pauses on the bottom step when she sees Ralph.
He’s still awake. Sitting up on the couch with his bent knees apart, one arm folded onto them. He’s pushed open the window right next to himself, and he’s staring out of it in silence, his fingertips slowly playing with his leather wristbands. He’s in nothing but his tight black boxer briefs, and the last of the firelight is moving softly over the tattoos lightly scattered over his body. His blonde hair is messy, like he’s been anxiously fidgeting with it.
Calla can’t see the look on his face, but she can tell that he’s lost in thought.
He slowly turns his fingertips over beneath his wristbands again, then stops still, aware of Calla’s presence.
He turns his head, then goes very still again when his eyes find her.
“Come upstairs,” she says softly, before she can stop herself.
Ralph doesn’t move for a second. Then he swiftly and silently gets to his feet. He takes her hand, lets her lead him up the steps.
He hesitates after they both slip into his comfy bed, obviously not sure whether or not he should reach for her. This is the smallest amount of clothes they’ve ever worn around each other, maybe that’s why.
Calla senses him silently fighting with himself about it, but she can’t resist. She rolls onto her side and fits herself up against him.
Ralph’s breath hitches as Calla brings her mouth to his, sinking him down into the pillows with a deep, slow kiss. He slides his hands up her back, his pulse stumbling, then spiking when she folds her thigh over him.
But just a few seconds later, Calla sharply breaks off the kiss.
Ralph stops, startled, and Calla pants for a second, struggling with herself.
She rolls off of him and stretches out on her back, her face burning.
Ralph sits up on his elbow, his dusky green eyes filled with concern.
That was even less far than they normally get before Calla freaks out. Significantly less.
She can’t bring herself to look at Ralph, but from the corner of her eye she can see him biting his lip, trying to decide if he should say something.
The bedding rustles softly as he reaches over to gently weave his fingers through hers.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, very quietly and haltingly. “Know - know you’re healing, and I know it’s not easy, I am, too… I’m - right here, if you want to talk.”
Calla can’t find an answer for him.
Eventually Ralph squeezes her fingers, then lets her go. He turns onto his side and stretches out, closes his eyes.
Calla holds perfectly still for a long time, until she feels sure that he’s asleep. Then she balls her hands into fists, her entire face screwing up in frustration. She could honestly fucking scream.
Ralph… the poor guy. He’s been so patient, so sweet and understanding at every turn. Calla can’t figure out how to explain herself to him, which means she’s been accidentally sending him all kinds of mixed signals, until he got desperate enough to blurt out a question that must have been so painful and awkward for him to ask.
Is it just that you don’t want me?
And Calla didn’t know what to say, besides no, I promise it’s not that.
Because she sure as hell couldn’t tell Ralph that the problem is that she wants him so bad, she’s fucking panicking about it.
He’s so different from every guy she’s dated before, and that’s turning out to be a really, really good thing.
Calla picked a big university in a big city for college and her master’s because she liked the thought of being around whip-smart, intellectual people. Fascinating talks, big ideas.
The shitface ex-boyfriend, he was one of those people. He was a professor, and he was smart, with equally smart friends.
Calla thought she loved that about him, at first. She was proud of being able to hold her own in those long conversations, the parties with his friends. But gradually she found herself descending into boredom and irritation.
There was a strange, empty kind of blustering self-righteousness to it all. The ex, his friends - they each thought they were the smartest one in the room. They talked to listen to their own voices, not to actually accomplish anything. They were all trying to outdo each other. They all clearly thought they had taught Calla something by the time the conversation was over, even when she knew that whatever they were saying was childishly stupid or hypocritical.
She reached the point where she wanted to grab them and shake them.
You guys are ready to sit here and talk in circles for hours, forever, she wanted to shout. Are you ever gonna do anything? What’s the fucking point of this?
Empty talk, all of it.
Calla thought afterwards that maybe she’d been wrong to ever think a smart man was the one for her. Simple warmth, that was what she wanted now.
But Ralph is smart. In his own, entirely different, quiet way.
One night on a curious whim Calla had searched up the meaning of his name. Her grandma likes to say that you can tell things about people from their names.
The name Ralph comes from the Old Norse name Ráðúlfr. Broken down into its pieces, the two sounds making up the name mean wisdom and wolf. There’s some debate about the correct translation, but it loosely means wisdom of the wolf.
Calla had smiled to herself when she read that. She thought of his fierce, alert, unwavering grey-green eyes.
He keeps it all in the shadows, but his intellect shows itself. After all, every date they’ve been on, Calla has left him some kind of puzzle to get the time, date, and location. And every time, he’s been there waiting for her, usually a few minutes early.
He’s a born-and-bred outlaw, operating well outside of the rules, and most people would look down on him for it. Including Calla’s old crowd in the city. But Ralph has done so much more than those people ever have, and he started out with so much less. He built himself an empire.
And there’s so much more about him that Calla adores.
“I think it’s sweet how shy he gets,” she told Mel when they had lunch together. “How he starts stammering and blushing. Has to say things in fits and starts. You know what I mean.”
Mel’s eyebrows had arched all the way up.
“Ralph?” she asked in disbelief. “Um - I think he’s only like that with you, Calla. I’ve known him since I was fourteen, and I’ve never seen him like that.”
That warmed Calla right down to her core. Ralph has so much power in his hands, but that doesn’t stop him from getting bashful around her.
She loves the way his brilliant eyes watch her. When he’s not laughing or smiling, she can see in them the ache of old, deep suffering. But still, they’re always warm when they linger on her.
He’s been through it. Calla knows that. Sometimes she watches the big set of angel wings inked into his ribs slowly rise and fall, breathing with his breath. He won’t talk about it yet, but she recognizes a memorial tattoo when she sees one.
The Warlord has had his wars, and they’ve left their mark. Calla understands that Ralph is a bruised and battered soul, that he’s still struggling in some ways. But - isn’t she, too? If anything, it makes her feel closer to him.
Huge waves of deep pining for him sweep through her when she watches the movements of his wings.
There’s also the way he’s always spilling sexy words of praise in her ears, scratching that itch that’s been left untouched up until now. It goes beyond empty flattery, for Calla. It gives her a deep, wild thrill, delicious shivers down her spine.
And the intimate way Ralph turns his dark green eyes on her. There’s a fathomless kind of fire burning in them that makes something in Calla tremble. She senses the subtle power of it, the unblinking, steady way he looks at her. The way he wants her.
It’s so intense that at first Calla thought she might be a little afraid of it, but she’s since realized that what she’s feeling are the electric currents of thrilled, breathless anticipation.
She thinks she wants him more than she’s ever wanted anyone, and that’s exactly the problem.
Calla is not easily hurt. But she’s been hurt bad. Her ex brutalized her trust and faith, ultimately collapsing them. She thought she knew him, she trusted him enough to move in with him, to sleep in his arms every night. And he turned out to be a completely different person than she thought he was. The kind of guy who cheats on his girlfriend over and over again, and brags about it to his friends.
Calla’s shattered trust has completely ruined all of the sex she’s had since she left him.
She always ends up so tense. Struck with the feeling of being in the room with a total stranger with his own motivations. No matter the guy, Calla feels like she has no idea who he really is, or what he might do. He might not care about her at all, he might not even really want her, he might really be thinking about running off to some other girl after this…
Calla starts to feel frozen deep down. Something in her heart hardens, and she feels so - separate from whoever she’s with. Then she’s stressing herself out trying to force herself to relax, which does her no good, only adds to the anxiety.
The result is either no sex, or cold, mechanical sex that sends not one current of real warmth through Calla. She can’t remember the last time she came out of it satisfied, or even all that worked up. The sex she’s had has been less enjoyable than a good back crack.
Every time Calla has met a cute guy and hoped that he would help her out with that, she ends up let down. Every time.
That’s the real issue, the reason Calla can’t bring herself to go through with it with Ralph. She likes him so much, she wants him so bad, she’s starting to feel so sure that he’s the key… her fucking heart is gonna be broken if he turns out to be just one more guy in this endless, painful cycle.
She’s not sure she could bear that.
There’s another part of this she can’t face. The fact that if it’s not going to work with Ralph, it’s probably never going to work with anyone. May as well quit the game altogether.
So whenever Calla feels herself starting to melt towards Ralph, giving into the ache, she ends up retreating all the way back in a panic. She’s tasting something she’s been desperate for, for ages. To be let down again, after having a taste, after letting herself believe that she really could get past this with him… her heart shudders in terror at the thought of what that would do to her.
And yet. Tonight…
The soft, sultry gloom of Ralph’s bedroom, with the rain falling outside, veiling the windows, sealing them safely in together. The patter of the droplets folding into the silence, the shafts of misty moonlight falling into the darkness.
His body, very still beside her in the bed, breathing deeply and slowly.
Calla slowly rubs her legs together, still feeling full of warmth from the night she and Ralph spent together. It makes everything feel very - vivid. The warm night air, soft and thickened with rain, feels like his hands sliding over her, kissing her cheek. The darkness of the room, the softness of the bed, the warmth flowing through her from the touches and kisses he’s been giving her all night - all of it, everything seems to be caressing her.
She looks over at Ralph, watching him breathe slow, stirring movement into his wings.
Calla’s thoughts abruptly go to that picture Ralph took, his self-portrait in the shattered mirror. She wonders what was going through his mind when he took that.
She glances over at him again, hesitating. He’s a light, catlike sleeper, always ready to be instantly awake at the slightest noise. Makes sense, given his line of work.
But Calla can be exceptionally quiet.
She slips silently out of the bed and crosses to the far corner of the bedroom. Ralph’s only full-length mirror is set into the back of his closet door, which he always leaves open. Calla has to close it to access the mirror. The latch makes a soft click, but she doesn’t hear any movement from the bed.
Calla stares at herself in the mirror, hesitates, then silently slips out of her clothes. She just wants to look, and that stuff is getting in the way.
She softly drops all of her clothes into a little heap, then steps back and stands naked in front of the mirror.
She lets her eyes slowly rove over herself. Her hips, her shoulders, her waist, the curves of her legs. The moonlight shifts over her buzzed hair, over all the piercings in her ears as she turns her head.
Living at her grandma’s sundrenched house has put a light dusting of a sunburn across Calla’s nose and cheeks. But somehow she feels like all of her colors are washed out. There’s some cold stiffness and tension to her, the ungiving hardness of something that hasn’t ripened. She can see it.
She’s pretty sure there was a time when she could look in the mirror and see something soft and warm looking back at her.
God, Calla wishes with all her heart that she could make herself melt back into that. She doesn’t want to be this cold, hardened version of herself. She doesn’t even look like someone capable of feeling pleasure. Maybe because she’s been starved for it for too long.
She’s always been self-confident, but - how could anyone ever really want her, when she’s like this? How is she ever going to feel truly desirable in someone’s hands ever again?
Calla looks into her own eyes in the mirror, icy despair silently growing in her heart.
A swift, sharp intake of breath breaks the silence of the dark bedroom.
Calla’s gaze snaps away from her own eyes. In the mirror, she sees that Ralph is awake. She doesn’t know how he moved so silently. She didn’t hear him at all.
His hands are braced behind him on the bed, like he just sat up and froze where he was. He’s staring at her as she stands in the moonlight, his eyes very, very wide.
There’s something strangely dark about his eyes, right now. Calla realizes after a second that it’s because his pupils are completely blown out, huge and dilated.
She turns her head to meet his gaze over her shoulder. Ralph’s eyes slowly, slowly drag back up her body, then stop on hers.
He says something very softly under his breath. A curse, or a prayer. Too quiet for Calla to make out.
Moving like he doesn’t know that he’s moving, Ralph slips out from under the covers. He slowly comes to Calla where she stands in front of the mirror, stops behind her. He doesn’t say a word. Only the soft misty patter of the raindrops breaks the silence.
His eyes, fierce and brilliant and fiery, never break away from her.
Calla hastily turns her head to face the mirror again, feeling a deep, searing blush spread across her cheeks. But Ralph’s reflection locks eyes with hers in the glass, and she can’t… can’t seem to tear her gaze away.
Slowly, so slowly, Ralph’s warm arms slide around her from behind, encircling her.
Calla’s heart stands still as he drops his head. With infinite warmth and tenderness, he places a soft, lingering kiss onto the curve of her bare shoulder. A strand of his pale blonde hair tumbles forward, brushes her skin.
Glowing heat rolls down through Calla’s body like sugary syrup. The heat has a pulse, a thudding sort of sensation that resounds through her.
Ralph feels the response, and his warm hands slowly slide downwards, feeling her. Traveling softly and instinctively, in stroking movements, caressing and gentle. Tracing the contours of her waist, her hips, his fingers touching her so lightly, his fingers leaving waves of melting heat in their wake. Moving down, down, until they softly brush between her legs. A deep shiver goes through Calla’s body.
Without thinking, she melts back into Ralph, then gasps when she feels the state he’s in. Just from looking, and the lightest possible touch.
Another wave of fiery heat spills through Calla. Her head falls back onto Ralph’s shoulder, her breaths picking up.
“Look at you,” Ralph breathes softly, right into her ear. “I hit the fuckin’ jackpot, didn’t I?”
He’s doing it again. Saying those sweet, praising words that send giddy thrills and white-hot sparks flying through Calla’s chest, that make her knees all weak. She rubs herself back against him just a little, pushing the waistband of his boxers just a tiny bit down lower on his hips -
Ralph lets out a jagged, sharp exhale, and Calla abruptly realizes what she’s doing. Her head snaps up from his shoulder, her cheeks blazing scarlet.
Frozen again.
Calla senses the impending wave of crestfallen disappointment about to crash over her head and crush her. And just when she had a sweet taste of possibility…
She drops her head to hide her expression from Ralph, struggling for an explanation, struggling not to cry. She can’t even imagine what’s going through his head right now.
She’s barely moved, but Ralph senses that she’s drawn away from him, like he always does. His hands go still on her.
Normally he falls back when this happens. This time, he doesn’t move or say anything for a long moment. Calla gets the sense that he’s thinking hard.
He finally lets her go and steps back. Calla closes her eyes, lets out a silent, internal, heartbroken sob. This is hopeless.
Her eyes flutter open again as Ralph gently turns her around to face him. She blinks at him in startled silence as he takes her face firmly in one hand and makes her look up at him.
“No one can ever find out about this, understand?” he says very seriously, staring right down into her eyes. “No one.”
Calla gazes up at Ralph in total confusion. “About wh-?”
She doesn’t even get the last word out before Ralph has dropped and knelt down before her.
She stares down at him as he kneels there in the moonlight, and he stares up at her with adoring eyes, unmoving, like he’s waiting for her to understand.
It takes Calla a second. She’s beyond bewildered. She doesn’t know what’s going on, and she definitely doesn’t see why it’s imperative that no one ever finds out about it…
And then understanding hits Calla like a lightning bolt.
The Warlord is kneeling to her.
The Warlord is kneeling to her.
Half in the shadows, the pale silver light catching in his soft blonde hair, pooling in his sage eyes. On his knees, looking up at her like he’s ready to do anything, anything she tells him to.
Calla stares at him in blank silence for a long moment, and then an immense shiver of pleasure runs up her spine, an outflow of fiery heat spilling from it the whole way up.
Ralph, with his far-seeing eyes, seems to know it. He hesitates, then slowly reaches out and takes Calla by the back of her thighs. He gives her a soft tug towards him, so gentle it’s nearly imperceptible. It would be so easy to resist the pull of his fingers. All Calla would have to do is step back.
She steps forward instead.
Ralph’s breath stumbles. He tilts his face up to hers, gazing up at her with wide, dilated eyes.
She reaches out and sinks her fingers into his blonde hair.
Ralph tips forward and begins slowly kissing his way up the front of her thigh. With each soft brush of his lips on her skin, Calla finds herself more and more immersed in the heat starting to gather in her body. Sinking back into it, beginning to float in it.
He’s at the top of her thigh now, and then at the crease of it…
His warm mouth grazes her so softly that she lets out a gasp, her fingers tightening their grip on his hair. The heat of his breath sends another, even more powerful shiver chasing after the first. Suddenly she’s panting a little, feverish, delicious electricity rushing through her veins, her body quivering.
Ralph gives her a second, then melts his mouth against her.
Calla gasps again, holding his hair tighter than she probably should, but she can’t loosen her grasp. Something is rising up through her body in a low throb, a deep pulse. It sinks deeper and deeper towards the very core of herself with each swirling movement of Ralph’s tongue, every slow, broad drag of it, every soft, upward press. Calla wishes she had a wall to lean back against, because the blazing heat in her is making her melt…
Without meaning to, she grinds herself into his face a little bit, and Ralph lets out a deep, soft groan like this is everything he needed. The sound sends an instant rush of dizzying pleasure through Calla, and not only because she feels the vibration of it. Swirls of mounting, climbing ecstasy are making her whole body hum, making her glow from the inside out.
“Slower,” she pants, giving the quiet, breathless command without thinking.
She bites back a moan as he adjusts, the melting softness and slowness back again.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, without moving his mouth away.
The mouthful of warm breath as he spoke, the vibration of his words, and what he said all combine to send a wild, breathless shudder through Calla. Suddenly she’s panting for more. A blissed-out moan falls from her mouth as she strokes her fingers through his hair and slowly rocks herself against his face, spellbound in the growing, all-consuming, perfect fever -
She realizes suddenly that the air is full of breathless moaning, wild little cries. And then, even more suddenly, she realizes that it’s all coming from her.
Calla goes silent, goes motionless.
Then she tears herself away and goes stumbling back from Ralph until her shoulder blades hit the wall behind her.
His eyes fly open, wide and startled.
Ralph and Calla stare at each other in silence, panting hard.
Calla turns and rushes for the bedroom door before Ralph can even get up.
“Calla!” She can hear him stumbling to his feet behind her. “Wait!”
She can’t slow herself down. She needs air, air.
She rushes down the stairs, snatching the midnight blue dress down from its drycleaning hanger when she remembers that she’s naked. It’s a wrap dress, and she fumbles a loose knot into the tie as she races through the kitchen, then straight out the back door.
She reaches the tree nearest to the house and stops beneath it, gasping in huge, deep breaths.
The rain is soft but steady, only a little cold. Casting a deep hush over the night, veils of mist over the grass. The bunches of wildflowers are shivering from the droplets, rustling quietly.
Calla closes her eyes in complete disbelief, then opens them again and whips around as Ralph comes rushing out into the green spring rain after her.
He’s naked down to his hips, still pulling on his jeans, which he then doesn’t bother to do up. His blonde hair is all fucked up from her hands in it, his mouth all wet. The inky wings on his ribs are rising and falling with his panted breaths.
He’s a sexy mess, and it only makes him look better.
“Calla, wait a sec!” He staggers to a stop a few feet away from her, his hands held out to her. His voice is frantic, his dark green eyes huge. “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry if I went too far, I didn’t even mean - I just opened my eyes and you were standing there, and you - god, you’re so fucking gorgeous, I…”
Ralph pushes a desperate hand through his messy hair, then stops, catching a better look at Calla through the rain. He blinks hard, his eyes narrowing in confusion.
Calla is staring back at him with a breathless, glowing smile on her face.
She didn’t mean to get Ralph worried. She thought that he’d realized, but clearly he didn’t.
He almost had her there. She was right there.
Calla was on the rise, and in a few more seconds, she could have let herself fall, fall back into that perfect, mind-numbing ecstasy she’s been chasing for so long.
She was only holding herself back because she wants to share that with Ralph. She wants the two of them to have that moment together.
And when she realized that was what she was doing, she got overwhelmed. She ran out here because she honestly thought she might fucking scream with wild, giddy excitement.
She was right about Ralph. He’s the key.
Calla knows it now, even though it didn’t happen just yet. She’s certain, in her high-flying heart.
She’s struck with a strange, wild, exhilarating sense of freedom. Little birds are fluttering in her chest. Adrenaline and excitement rush into her in huge, thrilling waves.
Ralph is still staring at her, struggling to understand what happened. Calla lets out a giddy, happy laugh, then sprints for him. She leaps into the air and right into his arms, her thighs around his hips, her arms thrown around his neck. She feels light as air, like she could spring into flight.
Ralph catches her, but the force of her momentum knocks him staggering backwards, out of the rain and into the kitchen. His head flies back as Calla takes a fistful of his blonde hair and gives it a hard tug.
She kisses him deeply, gratefully, fiercely.
Ralph is caught completely by surprise, but he locks his arms around her, his breath stumbling with excitement. She feels his body start to tremble as she practically kicks his jeans back down. He staggers right out of them, without breaking his mouth away from hers.
His kisses are turning intense and rough, urgent. She’s not holding back anymore, so he isn’t, either.
The fire blazing in Calla’s blood roars as he drops her onto the wide, low kitchen counter and stares down at her, his chest heaving, that burning intensity glowing deep in his sage green eyes.
“Really?” he asks. “You sure?”
He’s panting, his voice a low growl.
Calla slides her hand down the front of his boxer briefs. Ralph chokes out a sharp little gasp, straining against her fingers, his already burning cheeks blushing deeper. She feels the tremor that moves through him.
She pushes the boxers down and lets them drop to the floor. She lets her eyes rove over him, and the sight sends a shiver of pleasure rushing through her.
All she has to do to take off the wrap dress is tug gently on the tie. She does. It slips away, spills down her body like liquid silk, leaving her bare again.
Ralph stands there staring at her with wide, enraptured eyes, barely breathing.
Calla lets her knees fall open, and his breath hitches. He moves between her parted thighs like he can’t help himself, then takes her by her hips, tugs her closer to the edge of the counter. The movement sends her falling onto her back.
A breathless moan of pleasure escapes from Calla’s mouth as Ralph sinks down between her thighs. Breathing hard and fast, he drops his head low over her chest, and she shivers as the heat of his tongue meets her body again, her hands sliding up his back -
Their bodies lock together. Neither of them meant for that yet, Ralph was clearly just trying to tease her, but they were both so ready, it just happened.
The sudden shock of pleasure catches both of them unprepared. Ralph gasps out a sharp curse, and Calla moans again, a spasm of bliss wracking her body.
“Fuck,” Ralph pants, lifting his head, his grey-green eyes stunned and hazy with pleasure. “Oh fuck, did I just-? No, no, I didn’t. We’re good.”
Calla startles herself by letting out a laugh. She honestly can’t remember the last time she laughed during a moment like this. It seems to startle Ralph, too. He blinks at her with his dazed eyes, then breaks into a panting, open-mouthed smile, his eyes glowing with warm delight and surprise.
“Good, because we’re not done,” Calla purrs happily.
She rolls her hips, and Ralph sucks in a heavy breath. He jolts his hips forward sharply, unable to stop himself. It was a rough, savage movement, burying him between her thighs, and it briefly whites out Calla’s mind with ecstasy.
Ralph must have felt the same thing, because he’s moving now, and Calla is, too, gasping, letting out moans with every rock back and forth. Each moan is starting to come out wilder and louder and higher. She cries out as Ralph bends to press hard, crushing, adoring kisses into her neck. Her body is tensing and tensing with anticipation -
“Oh, fuck, Calla,” Ralph gasps in her ear, his voice tight and trembling, “It’s - it’s gonna be so fast, I can’t - you’re too beautiful - you feel too-”
She doesn’t hear the last few words. This sexy little bit of praise spilled in her ear sends Calla flying over the edge.
She seizes Ralph by the hair and drags him into a rough, biting kiss before her back arches and the dam breaks and she’s crying out into his mouth, over and over again, her body seizing and jolting and trembling.
Ralph lets out a whimpering moan from deep in his throat, wrenches Calla to him, and holds her there. He shudders with his whole body, whimpers again, then drops his forehead onto hers, panting.
She folds her arms around him, holds him close to her. And he seems surprised by that. She feels him give a small, startled twitch in her arms, then go motionless.
A few seconds pass. Then he slowly sinks down completely into her embrace, stroking her softly with his thumbs.
Silence slowly falls, broken only by the soft raindrops.
~~~~
Ralph and Calla keep still for a long, quiet moment, lost in some kind of shared rapture.
Calla’s throat feels hoarse from moaning, but she doesn’t care. She’s swimming in perfect peace and contentment.
An aftershock hits her. A blissful, almost unbearably good tremor of ecstasy. Ralph feels it, the little spasms of shivering and twitching from her body.
He finally lifts his head and looks down at her, caught by surprise again. Watching her, his hazy green eyes blurred with residual pleasure, filled up with warmth and wonder.
He freezes when he sees that Calla’s eyes are filled with tears. She hopes he can tell that it’s not a bad thing. That it’s the opposite, actually. The very opposite.
He’s healing, too. He understands, he knows, she’s pretty sure he knows…
Ralph softly kisses one of the tears away as it runs slowly down Calla’s cheek. She can feel him smiling as he does it, so hard that his cheeks are all rounded out.
It dawns on Calla that she’s starting to put her heart on the line, maybe… maybe in more ways than she realized. Something deep and warm is flowing through her chest, welling up within her as she gathers Ralph close to her again. The feeling only grows when he tenderly lifts her from the counter and nestles her into his arms, carrying her towards the stairs, back to his bedroom.
She feels the press of the soft leather wristbands against her back, a familiar feeling that only means him, and her heart sends an instant, sparkling rush in answer to the sensation.
He’s the key, that voice within her whispers again.
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