- -
"Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love... the
clarity of hatred... the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than
we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind
of peace. But we would be hollow... empty rooms, shuttered and dank.
Without passion, we'd be truly dead." -- Joss Whedon
Ephram didn't want to close his eyes.
The weight of sleep deprivation on his eyelids was a heavy burden to
bear at just before six in the morning. But it was Christmas Day. He'd
been up all night pacing the hastily-rented one bedroom apartment he and
Amy shared, his path treading a smashed trail in the carpet from the
tiny kitchen to the living room and back. Again, again, again. Thinking,
obsessing for hours over a single request, he'd fought the sleep through
all of the darkness, blinking at the sleepy stars. Certainly, he could
be strong enough not to surrender to passing out now. Just when the sun
was rising. Just when it was illuminating her face.
He sighed at the beauty of her, of Amy, with her face cleanly
scrubbed and her hair back in a messy bun, eyes closed in slumber as her
head lay gently on the pillow. Her pillow, the one that she dropped in
potpourri or something on a daily basis; the one that smelled as good as
her every morning.
The pale yellow glow illuminating his girl from the bedroom window
shone so invitingly, he just had to crawl into the bed beside her, at
long last. He unbuttoned his jeans and shook them off, then removed the
scratchy sweater that made it feel like he'd been wearing it forever. An
early Christmas present from Andy. What could Ephram say when it came to
his dad's gifts? The guy couldn't Christmas shop. Ephram was just amazed
the sweater fit. And glad that now he'd worn it for the obligatory day,
and could promptly shove it into the ball of unmentionables at the back
of the closet.
As he moved to close the closet door, its old wood creak betrayed
him, and he whirled around to find Amy's eyelids fluttering in that
delicate way, like she was shooing away fairy dust with her eyelashes.
Delia had grown to do the same thing. Girls and their little rituals.
Made him smile on mornings like this when he was rundown and tired of
being alone. Ready for the company of a girl he'd choose over any other
in the world.
"Hmm..." Amy moaned quietly to herself as she coaxed her senses into
the waking thing. Ephram bit his lip with a groan as a wave of wanting
washed over him, coating his veins with warmth that almost stung. He
crossed his arms over his chest, considered staying where he was, then
couldn't bear the thought, and quickly rushed to her side.
"Amy," he began excitedly, his voice suddenly all of fifteen again,
trembling, insecure, afraid. He lifted up the covers on his untouched
side of the bed and slid in under them to curl his feet around her toes,
wanting to make them tingle like every part of him wouldn't stop doing
until he gave her his request. Until the agony of wondering last night
was over and thrown to the past, dealt with like an exposed wound and
also a surprise gift all at the same time. It would be his favorite
time, or it would be the end of time. "Amy."
Wiping stray sleep away from that perfect face, Amy opened her eyes
and gave Ephram her patented Christmas smile, the one she would give her
parents during the opening of her stocking, and the one she would give
Bright only long enough to make the adults turn away so she could show
him what she really thought of his Christmas "present". The, "Oh,
Bright, you shouldn't have"? Oh yeah, that was sincere. Believe me,
you can have the pink rocks from peoples' yards back; you can keep the
gum that you know I hate; please remove my new pet rodent from my sight
before I smack you in front of everyone.
"Ephram..." She said the name so slowly, savoring it like expensive
chocolates that resembled the locks of his hair that were all out of
place. Seeing this, and realizing the maneuver he'd just made to sit
beside her, her face took on a concerned look. She had to ask: "Are you
just now coming to bed?"
Ephram's eyes were wild with some kind of barely tamed excitement she
didn't understand but so badly desired to as she noticed it. His smile
was more than a little strained with nervousness.
"Merry Christmas?" he started, choosing to be like she could be
sometimes -- infuriating in her ability to avoid the subject. A
woman's right, she called it. He was now claiming it as a right of
his own. He needed it to hide behind as he laid nearly naked, and not
only physically, before her inquiring eyes.
Amy's eyes softened and she gently propped her head up on an arm. She
broke out into a little giggle as she stared at Ephram for the few
seconds that she could stand with such a sober expression, and leaned
in, so perilously close.
"I know I didn't bring the mistletoe to bed," she said gently,
beginning to caress Ephram's exposed bicep. She felt his body begin to
tremble beneath her touch, and couldn't stop there. Her next words came
out in a whisper: "But I think you're going to have to let me kiss you,
anyway."
With that, her lips touched his. He sucked in his breath at the first
contact, and it was so unlike him to be so on edge. She longed to calm
him down with her kisses that pulled his bottom lip into her mouth and
sucked on it slowly, gently. With her caresses that moved from his arm
to his chest, following the pathway to each of the secret spots she
liked to fondle when given the chance. Something in his shyness was
telling her he needed some sort of green light to unload the words that
burdened his eyes and caused a storm in their depths.
Ephram's lips tingled like the first time she touched him this way,
loving the taste of her that never lingered long enough. From somewhere
deep and primal within him, he growled low in his throat, hesitantly
pulling away. This was driving him crazy, being unsure this way. He had
grown to respect himself, his decisions, and his choices. His confidence
had been building, and it felt foreign to be so "fifteen" again. It was
time to let the plaguing question within him spill out.
"Amy, this isn't going to be a moment out of Cosmo. It isn't going to
be a speech that you can retell to your parents and expect them to gush
over later. But I'm ready to ask you something, and it's Christmas, and
what the hell. Will you marry me?"
Amy's ears started ringing, like the shrill cry of a microphone that
veers away from the music with a continuous string of dreaded twang.
Her eyebrows shot up, and she didn't dare conjure up the fake Christmas
smile again. "What?"
"Amy." He was laughing as his words flowed out with the happiness of
sharing his question with her, and he reached out to hold her hand in
both of his, squeezing tightly. "I remember when we got back together
again, in front of the Ferris wheel... how I was scared shitless that I
would do something to screw this up, and force us apart, maybe this time
forever. But time kept passing by, and I -- I watched you grow, and
somehow was able to keep up pace to stand beside you. You were like...
it was like the first time I felt that things were on the right course
again since my mom died." He was looking into her eyes when he could,
but also looking to one of his hands that he freed to illustrate in
gestures along with his words. Some seconds he was seeing nothing but
her, and others he was seeing everything else.
Her hand held captive, Amy sat up as Ephram pulled her from the
pillow, clasping his hand with her warm fingers, wanting her love to
remain present but not being able to express a syllable of it in words.
Ephram was still speaking, scanning his memory to the last years in
his life, reliving them, liking it. "We would have problems, and I would
expect it to be over every time. I would wait for you to say so, always
ready to fight for you. The way I've never fought for anything, really
-- I had to find a way to win. But you kept... fighting on my side for
us to stay together, and we did. And we have.
"And last summer, at graduation, I promised myself, 'If we make it
another six months, I'm asking her to marry me.'
"I watched you walk across that podium in your robe and tasseled hat.
I was laughing in my seat about how you stressed over graduation robes
looking like 'high class trash bags' when you wore them, and it was okay
to laugh, because you made that idea lie over and die. You were so
confident, and you'd accomplished something that not enough people do
anymore. And it inspired me. I had to win you over, I had to covet you
before you became so amazing you grew wings and flew away."
Amy couldn't remember a time when he'd been so eloquent and spoken a
trail of words that lasted so long. She smiled to herself, remembering
that day, that perfect hair day, perfect everything day, when she had
walked with such a stride across the stage to the podium to accept her
college diploma in front of her family, Ephram's family, and Ephram. She
thought of the way she moved her tassel from one side of the hat to the
other and found Ephram's eyes where he sat with her fellow graduates.
She could remember how she felt when their eyes locked and held,
the muster it took to finally look away and go back to her own seat.
"Why would I fly away when everything I want is right here?" Amy
finally asked. The words came tumbling out as soon as she opened her
mouth. She reached a hand forward to tuck some hair behind his right
ear.
"You promised me we'd graduate last year," Ephram told her. "Promise
me you'll also be my wife."
Tears of crystal clarity shone in Amy's eyes, and as she blinked they
were released in zigzags down her cheeks. The answer was right there.
She pursed her lips together and nodded, suddenly shy.
"Is that -- is that a yes?" Ephram's voice had gone so deep as if
from all the "anything could happen" dread. Every emotion but relief
drained from his face, leaving it stained white with the shock of too
much happiness.
Amy's cheeks went pink. The burst of sound that exploded out of her
resembled something between a giggle and a squeal as she jumped up on
her knees and into Ephram's waiting arms. She crushed her body into his,
the lace edging of her holiday nightie rubbing against his chest as she
jumped up and down excitedly in his embrace. They laughed together,
delirious in their happiness, drunk on it, almost. It wasn't only
Christmas anymore.
The stark white of Ephram's face melted back into the color of his
flesh as his heart became warmed by the heat of her exuberance. He held
her until she stopped jumping up and down, her knees sinking into the
mattress each time. He held her while her happy tears came and she
talked of telling her parents. Her voice fluttered a mile-a-minute, like
hummingbird wings. "We'll have to tell them over dinner, of course.
It'll have to be at an occasion worthy enough for them to lose their
child to her boyfriend for the first time. They'll be so shocked. You
know how Bright is -- they figure he'll be forty and still content just
to live with the mold walking off of old food. God, my dad's going to
have so many expectations. We're really going to have to get a real
place, with more room, with 'married people' things. Oh my gosh, Ephram,
oh my gosh..."
Amy's tears fell, wet and warm onto Ephram's shoulders. Long after
they'd dried, still he held her, after her words had all been spilled,
and she was verbally spent. She sagged in his arms, drowning in his
warmth, resting her cheek on his shoulder and closing her eyes, losing
herself in bliss.
The clock was nearing seven by the time Amy had said all she needed
to say about involving their parents. Ephram took his eyes off of the
changing numbers on the alarm clock and returned his stare to the
delicate skin covering Amy's back. As he inhaled, the scent of her
peaches 'n cream lotion dizzied his senses and he placed a kiss on the
side of her neck. It felt so right, kissing her in such a sweet spot,
such a sweet way, that he did it again. He then let his kisses start to
trail up along her ear, noticing as her body in his arms began to stir.
She swooped under his chin till the other side of her neck was
available, curling up before him, presenting her back to his chest, his
heart beating like percussion on her spine.
Ephram's kisses and his wet tongue sliding along Amy's skin began
awakening her in places that normally stayed hidden on a Christmas
morning. As his mouth reached her earlobe, she became lost to him; as he
closed his lips on her lobe and began sucking, a moan escaped her. He
knew it was her sweet spot, and he was milking it for all it was worth.
The tension of the morning drained from Ephram's body, melting into
something else, something primal that seeped into his veins to make them
begin pumping. Blood rushed to his extremities with every throb of his
pulse, warming his hands that slid along the creamy skin of Amy's back.
He nuzzled her wet earlobe and tapped his nose into the lining of the
back of her ear, drawing an invisible line, and leaving tiny love bites
to mark where he'd been.
Amy's eyes fought to stay open as she relived the question countless
times, her mind speeding on a highway that wrapped around and repeated
itself, to her delight. She tried to concentrate on bottling up the
feeling of when the words had come out of Ephram's mouth, but the touch
of his lips against her neck began to become her undoing. Gradually, her
eyelids fluttered closed, like butterfly wings coming down from flight,
and she stopped fighting the curly-q sensations building up in the small
of her belly. She sighed, and reached back with one arm to cup Ephram's
head and hold him close to her from behind.
Ephram was pulled flush against Amy's back, and his sigh was not a
bad one. He brought his hands to her arms that peeked out from last
year's Christmas negligee. Sliding his fingers up her arms in a piano
player's gentle caress, he sent shivers through her body that became
contagious as they spread to his, as well. He parted the clothing
covering Amy, an expert by now at removing her clothes from all angles.
The filmy silk dress fell in a pool around her waist as the straps were
guided off her shoulders, and her top half was left bare for exploring.
No matter how well he knew her body -- memorized it, dreamed about it,
brought it to climax -- there was always more of her to be explored. She
changed like the seasons, only more often -- every day. She was not
summer or winter, but rather pink, blue, lace, delicate, eternity, or
soaring to the sky. She could not be pinned down with words or
categories, only hands that could feel and discover her in ways that
could not be described.
He heard the telltale sound she made when her lip quivered as he let
his fingers touch one of her breasts. Every time was the first time with
her; he learned this when she sank into his embrace from the sensation
he created, and he held her as his own. It was like being fifteen again,
having won the treasured prize. He was fifteen in that it overwhelmed
him even to this day; fifteen, in that it aroused him like the very
first daydream of his lips touching hers. Time was supposed to erode, to
make excitement comfortable; to turn butterflies into boredom. Time
didn't touch them, not yet; time didn't steal the passion that had drawn
Ephram to her face just because she stopped him in a hallway and said,
"Hey," and, "I like your hair."
He massaged the breast, running his thumb feather-light over the
nipple. Kissing the exposed skin of her shoulder, suddenly touching her
wasn't enough. He wanted to see the pink of the nipple, the tautness of
it; the degree of her arousal.
"Amy," he whispered in her ear from beyond the soft tendrils of hair
that were beginning to cling to her skin with the slick saliva from his
mouth and the slowly building sweat.
"Ephram," she answered, her voice lush with need and wanting.
Ever since letting go of his mom and reconciling with her death, he'd
never wanted anything more than to have Amy as his own, to hold and to
touch, to love and be bound to; she was the one he chose to save him
from being alone. And on top of it all, she wanted him, too.
He could feel himself getting warmer, an excited blush staining his
skin as all of his blood rushed down to his organ that was rapidly
filling and gaining in size. His other hand set to work, and now he was
fondling her completely. He loved the way she surrendered to his touch
-- the way they could both get lost in it. Her breasts fit perfectly in
the palms of his hands, as if their bodies were puzzle pieces waiting to
be joined. Once put together, they were a whole, canceling out one
another's insecurities, believing in each other enough to validate
themselves.
Amy's breath was beginning to come in shallower gasps. Suddenly a
fire spread through her fingers, as they begged to touch something, and
she turned around in Ephram's arms until she faced him and sat
practically in his lap. She mourned the brief loss of contact as his
hands fell away to allow her to move, but as she kicked away the nightie
from her legs and climbed back into his embrace, her lips found the
warmth of his, and all mourning was not only gone but forgotten. Her
hands fell to his shoulders to sear his flesh with her intensity. She
rubbed her palms down his chest, tracing the shape of it, discovering it
anew.
She could feel the bulge in Ephram's boxers poking at her, though she
was trapped behind her panties. She felt so oppressed, so far away from
him, separated by those not-even-millimeters of fabric. Wanting to get
him going, she conjured his kink with her nails, scraping them lightly
over his nipples that grew harder from her touch. He moaned, deep into
her mouth, and gathered her urgently in a tighter hold, clasping his
arms around her back and thrusting his tongue past her lips.
As she wrapped her arms around his neck and responded to his
enthusiasm, bucking her hips into his, her core scraped the hardness
trapped beneath his boxers, and the sensation dizzied her senses, making
her sway, happy to be caught by such sure arms.
"OhOhGod," Ephram let forth when there was space enough for a
pause between their lips. And Amy smiled, loving what she could do to
him.
Eagerly their lips met again and again, tongues reveling in touching
the other, the exchange a mass of wet and hot and sticky. Ephram tasted
her, licking small bits of her teeth as he maneuvered her waif-like body
until she was lying beneath him. He straddled her hips as he pulled away
to undo her hair and let the strands fall free and flow. They curved
this way and that from being held in the bun all night long, giving the
term "bed head" accidental style.
Their eyes met in the moment after he admired her hair; Amy held his
gaze till he smiled that half-grin, and traced a finger down her cheek.
The spell of tenderness was broken when Ephram hooked her panties
with two fingers and slid them down her legs. He tossed them aside like
used confetti, desiring to remove all layers possible. Sometimes, she
swore, he dug so deep, he brushed her soul before surfacing. It was a
welcome invasion, like the eye of a storm: disrupting the way of things
for the better.
Amy's eyes didn't leave his face as he scanned her body that he knew
so well, appreciating it with every expression, every gesture. She no
longer had to be self conscious around him now that she understood how
he saw her. How he had always seen her. She was grateful for his weight
on her legs, thinking otherwise she might float away from the high of
feeling so beautiful and so accepted, not despite her flaws, but because
of them and more.
"Hey, Mister," she bugged when he moved to cover her body with his
own. "I still see some fabric over your skin."
He chuckled. "Can't get anything past you."
She smiled and helped him to slide the boxers off, being polite with
her eyes when his erection bounced out of them as soon as it was freed.
Then she grabbed him and pulled him down on top of her till he was
covering her like a blanket, warm and protective. She laced her legs
through his, her smoothness contrasting his coarse hair. Kisses were
rained upon his face, starting at the forehead, then the nose... She
stilled herself until the suspense of waiting a moment gave him a
violent shiver before carefully taking his bottom lip in between hers,
and sucking it into her mouth. It was something she'd always loved about
him, that both of his lips were kissable. Usually it was one or the
other that you always grabbed when you pulled your lover close, but with
Ephram, there was no routine. Everything was fair game.
Lying together, naked as the day they were born, they ignited the
spark that inevitably came each time. Ephram's limbs pressed down into
Amy, his kisses becoming quicker and more insistent. His tongue began
dueling with hers, daring her to love his mouth more. It was time to
illustrate the love between them until they both fell, exhausted, their
bodies soaking the clean white sheets.
Amy was no longer as sexually shy as she used to be. As her lips
busied themselves with ferocious kisses, she snuck a hand down to grasp
Ephram's length and give it a squeeze. She ran her fingers down the
entire length until her nails were buried in the curls at the end of his
treasure trail, then ran them back up the length to the tip. She tested
his wetness by running her thumb over the slick head, drowning it in
pre-cum, summoning Ephram's deep moan.
His moans were delicious, her kink for sure. This one made her clit
start to throb and ache for contact. She bucked her hips up into
Ephram's curls, removing her hand, and turning the steering over to him.
Ephram was seeing rainbow dots behind his eyelids, as always happened
when she ran her thumb over his slit that way. He recovered in time to
recognize her body's pleading, and gave a manly grunt as his promise to
satisfy. He so badly wanted to drag out the foreplay, on this morning of
all times, but his nerves were exploding with the joy of the proposal,
and he wanted Amy so badly, he couldn't see straight. He didn't know if
he'd ever felt so taken by love and lust, or if he'd survive another
moment if he didn't get inside of her and become a part of her for the
first time since they promised each other forever.
Grateful for being rid of the condoms since the assurance of her new
"improved" birth control, Ephram dipped two fingers inside of her,
gathering the warm liquid pooled there. She arched her back at the feel
of bits of Ephram in her body, and he gave a few pumps for her pleasure
and to prepare her. Reluctantly withdrawing his fingers as she mewed
like a purring kitten, hands brought to her head and her breathing gone
shallow, he used her wetness to coat his length and ensure a smooth
entry without pain. His fingers shook from the anticipation and the
sounds still coming from her mouth.
And all at once, he was finally in. Buried in her center with one
smooth stroke, he gasped and collapsed on top of her as her inner
muscles clenched, so tight. Always she was tighter than a careful knot,
amazing him with the perfection of the feeling of being inside of her,
of being one with her. As he recovered and began sliding out, they both
gasped together, and she let out a scream as he began pounding into her
delicious heat with an amount of effort that both shocked her and
thrilled her at once. They'd started out slow, and now they were
building, as if inside a pressure cooker, needing to find release in one
another before moving on.
Amy gripped his shoulders, biting her lip and mumbling pleasure
sounds that were sometimes dwarfed by Ephram's outbursts. It was like
being touched everywhere at once, always, for the moment tasted like
forever, and Amy was lost in the sensation that set her body trembling
as she refused to look away from his face.
His long hair fell into his eyes, making his full beauty a mystery.
And he ground his hips into his lover like she was the home he'd been
searching for through an eternity, steadying his weight with one arm
while trailing the other hand in a line down her chest and tummy to her
clit, which he rubbed at a frenzied pace.
A few of his quick touches, and Amy was lost to the world, spiraling
beyond heaven, her limbs dropping to the mattress in surrender. As her
body clenched that extra bit, Ephram collapsed on top of her, spilling
his seed within her, warming her insides with what just left the inside
of him. The deep breathing was almost in unison as his sweaty chest
smeared its juice on top of her. She gently hugged his neck, closing her
eyes as she nuzzled the side of her face against his ear. And their
exhales were all that punctured the silence. Breathing, existing,
together.
Lying spent with him, Amy knew her answer was right. She knew there
was no other answer, just as there would be no other girl. Not as long
as Everwood had mountainous scenery. She loved him, needed him, had him.
She listened beyond his breathing to the whisper of the pulse in his
chest. She knew it, and she wouldn't deny it. They were joined; they
would be married. Their hearts had come to beat as one.
"See?" Ephram said, fighting with his breath to get the words out,
his tone the one he used when talking to himself. "Just like I
practiced. Piece of cake."
Amy sighed, and twirled a stray strand of hair around her finger with
a thoughtful smile. "Piece of wedding cake."
- -
end
