(Note: All characters are at least 18 years old. This story is mostly erotic with some softer tones. Feedback welcome, comments appreciated. Enjoy!)
I pull into my driveway and shut off my car with a tired sigh. I walk up to my front door and unlock it, shutting it behind me with a quiet click of the handle. I look up and wait a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark inside my home, but as I wait, my eyes pick up a slight luminous glow from a doorway down the hall. For a moment I stand there trying to think if I had any visitors, but nothing came to mind. After another moment of confusion, I look back to the lit doorway and my body tenses up. Before me stands the hazy form of a disheveled woman I never thought I'd see again. She is half asleep and her normally silky brown hair is frizzled and on ends about her head. She wears a shirt much too big for her and it hangs on her in odd angles. Though the shirt covers most of her slim body in baggy layers of cloth, it still serves to accentuate her curves: It hangs from one shoulder, across her firm breasts, and drops from her flared hips as she wonders slowly into my view, her head hanging in exhaustion.
I set my jacket and keys down as I walk towards her, a slight smile tugging at my lips as she looks up at me, her glossy purple eyes betraying her absolute need for rest. "Hey beautiful." I greet her softly. She gives me a sleepy smile and shambles towards me slowly, her feet dragging over the wooden floors with a slight rustle. I reach towards her and my arms wrap around her slim waist and I pull her into me gently. She mewls softly in protest, like a kitten. It melts my heart, but I make sure my face remains composed despite my overwhelming need for her, body and mind. I feel the need for her like a glowing red knot in my chest, writhing around itself in desperation. But I hold it there. That need cannot come to the surface. I can't let her see what she does to me.
After a moment I bend down, wrap an arm behind her legs and pick her up, carrying her to the couch and letting her rest in my lap as I sit and hold her. I let my hands drift across her stomach in a slow circular massage. I know she loves this kind of massage and she reaffirms this knowledge with soft, relaxed moans. I'll ask her what brought her back in the morning, but I already know. Another bad relationship, another bruise on her heart. I grimace inside but I move my hands from her stomach to her chest as my fingers continue their slow trek across her skin. Despite knowing that i could make her feel even better, I never let my fingers graze her breasts: I work around them, slowly, methodically. Maybe that only brought her attention to the fact that I was skipping them, but I don't know. Eventually she relaxes enough to sleep and I hear her breathing slow, her muscles unclench, as she slips into sleep and I wrap my arms around her, my hands again coming to rest on her stomach with my fingertips just brushing her bellybutton and I hold her silently, her forehead resting over my heart as she falls asleep.
Sometime during the night she had rolled onto her side and thrown her leg over my waist, her ankle hooking on my thigh as she curled her hands together between my chest and hers. I lifted my slightly shaking hand and gently cupped her knee with a shiver: It was just surreal seeing her like this, feeling her so close. I looked at her in that moment and I just knew that I truly loved her. I lay there with her until I see the sun peaking through my window and I gently slip out from her grasp. I bite my lip and watch her, stone-still, when she frowns and groans in her sleep, her body curling into itself. My shoulders drop and my head tilts as my eyes soften. I reach up and pull down a blanket thrown over the back of the couch and drape it over her. She clasps one corner of the blanket in her small, delicate hand and brings it closer to her as I stand and walk into the kitchen, a smile making my lips twitch.
After a while I come back into the living room and set down a small tray with bacon, homemade biscuits, eggs and a slice of ham piled on a plate with a mug of coffee and a fork to complete the set. I sit against the arm of the couch and turn slightly, my fingers brushing a lock of hair away from her eyes. I smile as she groans quietly, her lips pursing. I lean forward and lightly kiss her forehead then lean back again as her eyes open slightly.
"Good morning sleepyhead." I whisper. She opens her eyes wider and looks at me, then to the tray of food and smiles beautifully.
"Is this for me?" She wonders. I nod and drag it a little closer as my fingertips close around a piece of bacon. I bring it up to her lips and smile.
"Open up sweety." Her eyes widen, then she gives me a small smile and parts her lips as I slowly feed her the bacon. When she reaches the end of the bacon slice, I move to get another, but her hand darts out and catches my wrist swiftly.
I raise my eyebrows at her and she stares into my eyes as she gently licks the bacon grease off my finger. I watch her lips close around my finger and shudder slightly, my eyes drifting half-closed with desire, but I blink away the haze and pull back slightly, my finger slipping away from her lips as I reach for another slice of bacon. I still don't want her to know how I feel. Not yet. Not now. I won't tell her when she still hurts from whatever the last heartless fool did to her. Always, I've been there for her, comforted her, helped her heal, but in the back of my mind I am wondering. I wonder at her strength, I wonder at her loving heart, but I wonder most of all: How long can she keep doing this to herself? In the back of my mind I wonder what would happen if I told her. If I let her know how I feel about her. But reason returns, as it is oft to do. I will not risk our friendship. I will continue being her little rock in the storm of her life. I will be there for her, always. No matter how much it hurts to stand by.
I blink away my thoughts as I realize she's been watching me this entire time. I smile awkwardly. "Sorry. Off in my own world there." She smiles just a little.
"I could tell." She mutters softly. I blush and look down at the plate of food and to my surprise, she's eaten everything already. I look back up to her and raise my brows.
"Apparently I was there for a while, huh?" I wonder aloud. Her light laugh makes me smile.
"Yeah. But it was interesting watching you think." She says. I chuckle.
"Yeah?" I ask. She nods and smiles again.
"Yeah. What were you thinking about so hard?" She wonders. I shrug and stand, grabbing the tray as I do.
"Nothing really important. How are you feeling sweety?" I ask over my shoulder as I head to the kitchen. I can hear the couch creak as she stretches and I turn around just in time to see her back arched, her arms clasped above her head. I instantly stop moving and just watch her move. So much like a cat. I lick my suddenly dry lips and turn away again, myself unaware that she had been watching me as I observed her.
I dropped the dishes off in the sink and headed back into the living room only to stop again as though I'd walked into a wall. I was struck speechless. She had climbed off the couch and was pulling the shirt off. I watched her arch, her muscles bunch and relax as she let the shirt drop to the floor. In my haze I hadn't seen her turn her head just enough to peak over her shoulder.