Page 68 of Pas de Don't
She pulled his shirt from him as slowly and carefully as she could, matching his pace, trying to make this night last. A sharp pain twisted in her chest when Marcus stood and removed his jeans, the memory of their first meeting rushing in. Heather hadn’t known then how precious he would be to her, and the kind of chances she would take to be close to him. How free and alive and willingly reckless he’d make her feel. Now she knew in every cell of her being—but it was too late and too risky to do anything about it.
By the time she’d found her box of condoms and fished one out with shaking fingers, Marcus had shimmied out of his clothes and kicked them to the floor. He lay on his back, one hand on his cock and the other reaching for her, his stomach rising and falling rapidly with his breath. The sight of him stretched out on the bed, his honed, muscular body naked and his cock hard for her, made Heather bite her lip so hard she nearly drew blood.
Impatient, she willed herself to stop and take him in, all the lines and shadows of him in the fading light. The undisguised need in his eyes as he watched her open the condom packet and roll it down his shaft. He reached for her again and pulled her close, nestling himself behind her, his chest firm against her back. She arched against him and felt his moan rumble through her own chest, wishing she could trap it there and keep it forever. Then Marcus positioned himself at her waiting, aching entrance, and pushed into her. Heather gasped, and he shuddered against her back, pulling her gently against him until he was fully inside.
They stayed that way for a moment, unmoving, unbreathing, his mouth hot against her neck and his heart pounding against her spine. When she moved against him, they both groaned. The relief of it made her want to sob, and the closeness and comfort of feeling him around her, inside her, made her eyes water.
Marcus said her name quietly, reverently, like speaking her name was a privilege he wasn’t sure he deserved. He said it again and again as he moved inside her, one hand gripping hers tight so that they were connected in almost every possible way. After a moment, a whisperedoh fuckinterrupted his chant, and the curse wrung a watery, unseen smile from her mouth.
“Fuck, Heather, you feel so good. The best. The best I’ve ever, the best I’ll ever—” His other hand, flat and firm against her stomach, moved down slowly, maddeningly slowly, and he ran one finger between her slick folds and up to circle her clit.
Heather closed her eyes and tried to feel it all, catalog it all so she’d never forget: His searing breath on her shoulder, his nimble finger dancing expertly on her clit, his feet tangled with hers, his cock deeper inside her than it had ever been. The heat swirling around them, holding them in the cool evening light of her bedroom. He thrust slowly, gently, murmuring in her ear how good she felt wrapped around him, and as his hips sped up, so did his finger. Heather felt her orgasm build, an ungovernable, inevitablewave rising, and she ground her hips back against him, her own breaths turning to whimpers as the crest took shape.
“That’s it,” he urged her, his hand moving still faster. “Fuck, Heather, that’s it.” The sound of her name from his mouth, so gentle and sweet pressed against the profanity, pushed her over the edge. The wave crashed over her, and she shuddered around him, gasping as she rode her orgasm and him. A moment later, his hand slipped from her clit and he held her hip tight, pulling her to him and groaning as he came.
Marcus held her, one hand pressing flat and firm against her sternum and the other holding tight to hers, and buried his face in her neck, breathing hard against her electrified skin. He said her name again, and this time the sound of it pulled a small, jagged sob from her throat.
Despite every wretched thing he had been through in the last year, Marcus had found the space in his heart to care about her. He had seen her panicked and frozen, and he hadn’t written her off as childish, or damaged, or disappointingly human. He’d brushed against her prickles, her skeptical and untrusting spikes, and had only pulled her in closer. She’d spent months feeling foolish and humiliated, but he had decided she was brave. And so he had been brave for her, had sneaked around and kept secrets for her, because he thought she was worth it. He had decided the risk was worth whatever small pieces of her he could have, for however long he could have them. And despite everythingshehad been through in the last few months, she loved him for it.
She loved him. Heather loved Marcus. Loved the way he could never truly keep a straight face when he was poking fun at her, loved the way he tucked away little details of what she said or thought and committed them to memory. She loved how intensely he wanted her and how unabashedly impressed he was by her. Jack had wanted her with the cool assurance and languid ease of someone who’d been handed everything he’d ever asked for. Marcus wanted her like she was something precious few people ever got the chance to touch.
Tomorrow they’d be strangers again. But tonight they slept, still entangled, still together, still each other’s best and most precious secret.
When she woke the next morning, Marcus was gone. A still-warm flat white stood on the bedside table, along with a handwritten note.Chookas for Friday. I’ll be watching. M.
Marcus called in sick the next day. He gave himself a short barre at his kitchen counter after completing his physio exercises, trying not to think about what was happening on the Opera House stage as he did. Today the company would run through the ballet again with the lights and sets and tomorrow would perform a full dress rehearsal with the orchestra in the pit. And then it would be opening night. Heather would barely leave the theatre all day, and he tried not to think about all the chances he was missing to see her dance. To watch her smile and laugh with his colleagues. To catch her looking at him for a brief second and know she’d been thinking about him at the very moment he’d been thinking about her.
He’d be there for opening night, Marcus reminded himself, the dull ache in his chest turning sharp and bitter. He wouldn’t miss that for anything.
Once showered, he went to visit his mum. Her stitches had been removed a few days earlier, her cut wasn’t hurting anymore, and she seemed mostly back to her usual routine. Together, they visited a local homewares shop in search of a rug to replace the ruined one, but Marcus could hardly concentrate on the store’s various offerings. His head was too full of Heather to focus on the differences between the three almost-identical rugs she was trying to choose between. If his mum noticed that he seemed out of sorts, she didn’t say anything, though he suspected that wouldn’t last long.
Marcus had just heaved the rug into the back seat of her car when his phone vibrated.
Alice, 12:04PM: Peter announced the news about Kimiko and Ricky this morning, and the mood here is grim AF.
Marcus didn’t know what to say to that. He was about to put his phone away when it buzzed again.
Alice, 12:05PM: Heather looks off. Is she okay?
No, he wanted to reply.She’s not okay. I’m not okay. None of this is okay.
Marcus, 12:06PM: Took your advice. We ended it last night.
Alice, 12:06PM: I’m sorry. I know it sucks but I think it’s for the best. I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure she’s allright. Are you okay?
Marcus shoved his phone away without replying, and he and his mum drove home.
When he woke the next morning, the other side of the bed empty and cold, Marcus considered calling in sick again. But he had an appointment with Sharon, and he’d never missed those, not even in the depths of his fresh grief last spring. So he hauled himself out of bed and got on the bus, remembering all the days he and Heather had parted ways at his or her front door and walked to separate bus stops. All the lengths they’d taken to hide—and to fool themselves into thinking they could be together.
When he knocked on the physio room door, Shaz looked up from a clipboard and gave him a friendly smile he didn’t manage to return.
“I’ve got some good news for you,” she said, and Marcus raised his eyebrows weakly in reply. “We’re gonna start grand pliés today. Just a few, but you’re looking really strong, and I think you’re ready to get back to full range of motion. Get excited, today’s a big day!”
Shaz watched him expectantly, and Marcus hastily arranged his face into a joyless, mechanical smile.
“Sounds great,” he lied. “Thanks for everything, Shaz.”
Her smile didn’t falter, but she tipped her head curiously, watching him closely, and for a moment he thought she was going to ask if something was wrong. He didn’t know if he had the energy to lie if she did. But all she said was, “Of course, love. You should be proud of how far you’ve come. Now go get changed, and we’ll get to work.”
