#bex writes

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted as a man let himself in through the front door. He was soaked, obviously, and looked miserable and absolutely freezing. "Hello, sir, welcome to the Saints Hotel. Can I get you a room, sir? Perhaps you'd like a bath to warm your bones? It's only a quarter." You offered your best practiced customer service smile as this stranger removed his hat, allowing his outgrown hair to fall down the sides of his head a little more freely.

Oh. "It's you… you're not here to— we had to scrub the floor in 2B every day for a week after you… please tell me you ain't here for trouble mister." You stepped back from the desk. You knew what kind of man he was. At least, Charlie told you about it when you came in the following morning. You had let this fellow in, told him where to find a particular lady— said he was her friend— and then your shift ended before you ever saw him come back down. Apparently he killed another patron, strangled him after beating him.

"Oh, come on now, miss. You don't know the full story. I didn't come here lookin' fer trouble that last time, either. That man was beatin' on my lady friend… I couldn't stand by an' watch that, I can't help the fact he put up a fight with me, too," the stranger drawled, pressing his hat to his chest, as if it were a gesture of trust and respect. "'M sorry if I got you in trouble. Wasn't my intention." He bowed his head down momentarily, and you watched water drip off the ends of his hair.

"Well… alright. Just promise we won't have any problems again," you stepped back up to the ledger once more. If he was telling the truth, and he had been defending the blond woman he had gone upstairs seeking, you weren't going to look down on him for it…

He chuckled as he straightened his back once again. "Can't promise that , but I can promise to try my best."

You felt your face warm at the sound of his deep laughter, but couldn't bring yourself to react to the comment. You were the only one working tonight and all you wanted was for this to go as smoothly as possible… "So… a room? A bath? Both? " You cleared your throat as he finally shifted his weight forward to take his place across from you at the front desk.

"Yeah, sure. I could use a bath… I'll take both."

"Lovely… that'll be $1.25, please. And I'll run a bath if you'd like to bring your belongings down to room 1B. The bath is just across the hall there." He dropped several coins into your palm in exchange for a room key and started down the hall to your right. Once his form had passed through the threshold of the hallway, you exhaled sharply. You didn't even know you had been holding your breath…

After counting up the change and storing it inside the lockbox, you patted down your apron and turned to head down the hall. One last glance over your shoulder confirmed that the storm had set in for the long haul and there probably wouldn't be any more wanderers coming in any time soon. At least the timing was great.

You made your way down the corridor to the bath, and you could hear some rustling coming from the other side of the door to 1B as you passed the troublemaker's room. A thud that must have been a belt or something similar hitting the floor caused you to flinch just as you reached for the bathroom doorknob. Shaking your head, you reassured yourself that you were jumpy for no good reason. This man just made you feel… weird? Nervous wasn't the right word for it. He didn't exactly set you on edge, though Charlie would probably tell you he should. Being in his presence simply heightened your senses.

Kneeling beside the tub, you rolled up your sleeves and turned the water on. You were lucky to have proper plumbing and a copper water heater here. You had to admit, taking a bath in this fancy tub was one of your favorite things nowadays. All the maids agreed that it was the best money Charlie had spent in a long time. It was for the best too, as quite a few townsfolk in Valentine used the bath no sooner than it had arrived and been installed. The whole place smelled a little better. Just about as good as a livestock town could smell, anyway… And with it came the option to charge folks a little extra for some TLC, 50¢ for a maid to wash you up to be exact. You didn't mind doing it, but you only really offered it to pretty young things. Beyond that, well… you simply hoped that it would remain an off the menu sort of deal for as long as possible.

A knock at the door told you that the stranger was ready for his bath. You poured a bit of oil and soap into the water as it finished filling and you called out for him to enter while bubbles rose from the surface of the bathwater. "Come on in, make yourself comfortable," you murmured as you gestured to the bench on the opposite wall. "I'll leave you to undress and get in… I'll be back in a few minutes to make sure it's warm enough for you. Sound alright?"

He stepped into the room and nodded slowly to you, pushing his hair back with his hand. He had some of the most beautiful blue eyes you had ever seen on a man as rough as him. They followed you as you smoothed out your skirt and headed for the hall, causing your cheeks to run warm once again… You were sure he had already begun unclasping his suspenders before you even made it through the door.

As soon as you were in the hallway, you pressed your back to the wood paneling beside the door frame and placed your hand over your chest, feeling your heartbeat beneath your fingertips. It was a little quickened, no doubt due to the gaze he had been casting at you as the two of you circled the tub like some bathroom square dance. Shaking your head from the daze, you began to walk back up the corridor to the lobby, willing your heart to calm with gentle strokes of your hand until you reached the book again.

Leaning on the desk with one hand, and the other dropping from your chest to your hip, your thoughts wandered as you listened to the rain. A few distant flashes of light out the window by the stairs drew your eyes outside as you watched the ferrier shut his doors for the storm. It must have been getting pretty bad out there. Absently, you took up one of the pens, and started filling in the ledger for room 1B to be rented, as well as a bath sold. Your hand hovered where the total would have gone, but you just bit the inside of your lip thoughtfully for a moment, staring at the page.

Maybe the stranger wanted a deluxe bath?

You glanced over at your pocket watch, hidden in a drawer to your left you kept open just a smidge so you could see the time. It was after 7 already. If anyone was gonna be sleeping anywhere now, it was at whatever building they could get into before those angry clouds rolled in from the plains. You repeated in your head again, nobody else would be coming in tonight. Finally, you stepped around the desk and started heading to the front door, sliding the lock to fasten it closed and flipping the sign hanging in the glass window to read No Vacancy from outside.

After extinguishing the candle on the front desk, you started back down the hallway, approaching the door to the bath slowly. Your heartbeat started to pick up once again as you lifted your left hand to knock, but it took another moment and another roll of thunder before your knuckle made contact with the wood.

"'Scuse me, sir, would you like some help in there?"

After a moment, you heard the water splash around the tub a little, and then his voice came to you. "Yeah, sure! Sounds nice." 

Your hand dropped to the metal knob and you let yourself in, shutting the door behind you."I've locked up for the night, so we don't have to rush this or nothin'," you explained as you took your place on his right, trying your hardest not to focus on his now bare torso. He had a fitting patch of hair spanning the length of his broad chest that disappeared into the suds that kept him modest from you. His blue gaze came up at you again through his dark blonde eyelashes, and his lips turned up in a half smirk that sent your chest into a fluttering mess. Did that sound a little... odd? That you closed the hotel to new guests just to come give him a long bath? Or did you look desperate just now? Either one was bad, so you panicked and went on, "Rain is getting pretty bad, after all… anyway, the deluxe bath is going to add 50¢ to your tab. That alright, hun?"

His right hand came up out of the water to wave at you before disappearing once more. "Yeah, no big deal. 50¢ ain't nothing to have a little alone time with a pretty lady such as yourself," he answered, leaning forward as you wet your hands in the water behind him.

"Oh you— you're too sweet, ain't you?" You couldn't stop the pink from settling into your cheeks this time, and now it was accompanied by the tiniest grin as your hands moved up from the water, tracing the ridges of muscle surrounding his spine. "What's your name anyway? I don't have anything on file to put you down in the book."

The stranger seemed to hesitate for a moment as his head fell forward, welcoming the gentle caress of your fingertips onto his scalp. "It's, uh… Arthur. My name's Arthur." You only hummed in response as you massaged some suds into his hair, dipping your hands back down every so often to moisten them once again.

"It's not often I get a bath like this… with a roof over my head… hot water." he seemed to be relaxing under your touch, almost… leaning into it, his head tilting toward wherever your hand was.

"That's a shame… well we offer them all day long," your voice was soft as you worked your way from his head down to his right shoulder. "Would you like for me to give your arms and legs a wash too?"

"Sure." Arthur leaned back against the high side of the tub, his head gently bumping the porcelain. His right arm lifted from the water, and you reached out to start running your hand up and down the length of his bicep, then down past his elbow to his forearm. He had plenty of scars on his skin, some long and delicate like scratches from riding through underbrush— others uneven and round, the telltale sign of a gunshot wound. "Water's warm enough?"

"Even if it wasn't, you're makin' up for it, darlin'." You swore his voice went straight to your stomach. 

"You this nice to every girl you meet?" You settled on the side of the tub to reach over him and start scrubbing along his left arm. 

"Only the ones I think are lookers," he murmured, averting his gaze to his pile of clothes on the bench.

"That so?" You giggled as you dipped your hands into the bath in front of his belly to get some more soapy water. He didn't answer this time, so you let it be and gently started rubbing your hands over his chest, washing away what little dirt had remained there after this cowboy had been traipsing around through the thunderstorm.

"A'right, lemme see a leg," you patted your hand on his right knee, and his breath hitched. He must have not been paying too much attention… Regardless, he lifted one leg up to rest on the side of the tub, and your hands went to work on his calf, massaging his leg, and scrubbing it clean.

As you worked your way up past his knee, you looked up to Arthur's face. He looked... worked up. Your hands slowed to a stop and you cleared your throat, coaxing his eyes back to you. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" You murmured, head dipping down to try capturing his gaze. "Just let me know, and I'll leave you to it."

"No, no-—miss it's just… it's quite the opposite actually," he said matter-of-factly, brows furrowing as he nodded his head down. He seemed ashamed as he looked down toward the water between his legs.

Oh.

Oh.

He was worked up, just not how you were thinking. You swallowed hard and stole a glance down toward where he was looking, but you couldn't see beyond the layer of bubbles there. Really, you shouldn't have been able to either. Wasn't your business unless he made it your business. "Well I can stop if you'd like…"

"I'd rather you didn't. I'd very much like it if you— if you continued… if you want," he was trying so hard to make it seem like he was unbothered either way, but you could tell by the red flush he had from ear to ear that he had an idea in his head, a preference for how this would turn out. His face was red from more than from the heat of the water… And at least he was being a gentleman about it, giving you the option to gather up your damp dress ruffles and leave him be.

"Alright, I'll keep going, then." Your hands travelled across the surface of the water to reach his opposite knee, tapping lightly. This time, you didn't need to say anything before his leg emerged from the suds to rest on the side of the bathtub. You leaned forward, balancing on the edge of the porcelain as you worked his left calf just as you had done to the right.

This time, though, your hands continued to work up his legs, along his thigh, rubbing his muscles to loosen them up a bit. You realize now what you were feeling earlier was attraction. This man was drop dead gorgeous, and wasn't an outright A-hole like plenty of the ‘gentleman’ population around these parts— at least not toward you. His sudden shyness was only adding to the intrigue you felt toward him. "This alright..?" You took your lower lip in between your teeth as your hand dipped below the water, tracing a slow line downward along the top of his thigh.

"Yeah, 's great." His eyes were shut now, his head tipping back once again as your hand reached the junction where his leg met his hip. You could feel the fold of his belly, his flesh stretching as his leg lowered back down into the water, leaving only his knee exposed to the air. From there, you were a bit lost at what to do next.

When your eyes glanced back up to Arthur's face again, he lifted one heavy eyelid to peek at you, his eyebrow lifted with a quiet curiosity.

Good God you hoped you were reading this right.

You must have been, because as soon as you shifted to slide your palm toward the front of his pelvis, Arthur's eye fluttered shut once more and a little smile played across those pretty lips of his. Dirty bastard. You smirked too, though, allowing your searching hand to finally reach its goal. When your fingers finally wrapped around him under the water, you were not surprised to find him already partially aroused.

Your mind raced as soon as it caught up with you. Was this actually happening? This was something you and the other maids joked about! And yet here you were, starting a slow tugging hand job on this— this troublemaker!

And you were enjoying it just as much as he was.

He kept his eyes screwed shut as your hand slowly made it to the tip of his cock, rubbing the ball of your palm against the underside of his shaft near the top. A breath caught in his throat and his hip twitched, sending little ripples across the bath to splash in tiny waves over the side of the tub. You felt pride bubble up in your chest at the thought of him reacting like this to your hand. "Feel good, huh?"

"Heh, quiet, you," he laughed breathily, but the way his shoulders were starting to rise and fall with each movement of your hand told you all you needed to know. So you went on for a bit like that, one hand planted on the rim of the tub, the other arm elbow deep in the water between this dangerous cowboy's thighs.

You actually had a nice rhythm built up when you… well, you slipped. You weren't sure if your foot slipped on some of the water that had splashed on the floor, or if your bottom (which had since gone numb from sitting on the too-thin edge of the tub) slid to one side or the other. Either way, you gasped and splashed down into the bath with Arthur, headfirst. He had some reaction time, too as his hand shot between your head and the wall of the bathtub. You struggled to push yourself out of the water, but it only served to send you further into it.

Before you could decide you were embarrassed, you heard the most enchanting sound: Arthur was laughing . It was this deep, jovial rumble coming from his chest, and it did nothing but send heat straight to your core. Instead of causing a fuss, you just kicked off your shoes and tugged your legs over into the bath with you, settling down in the bath opposite Arthur. He had such a giddy look on his face, his baby blue eyes shining, cheeks so round with his smile that he was almost squinting at you. You couldn't help but smile right back, laughing with exasperation as you tossed your head back.

What a mess! What a beautiful, sexy mess. The water had gone absolutely everywhere and now with the two of you taking up residence in the bath, the water level was at the brim, each movement sending a wave one way or the other to topple over the side. It was too late to care. It was beyond saving. You were gonna have to mop later anyway.

"Well this just ain't fair, now is it?" The corners of your lips fell at Arthur's sudden words.

"What is it?"

"I seem to be buck naked… and you are still wearing all your clothes!" He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at you. It seemed the lightness of this situation had brought out another side of your troublemaker.

"Well, I— you… that mouth of yours get you in trouble often?" You stammered, trying to make sense of the moment in your mind. You knew what he was trying to get at… and deep down, you knew you were starting to want it as well.

"Hmmm… sometimes…" he leaned forward, back separating from the tall side of the tub as he leaned toward you. "And other times, I use it to get me outta trouble. " His voice was so suddenly laced with honey, tone dropping down near an octave by the time he finished his sentence. You squeezed your legs together, and noted a pressure you weren't aware of before. Simply pressing your thighs tight to one another sent a current of pleasure throughout your lower half, and you groaned softly.

His hand came up out of the water to trace along your shoulder with his fingertip. He followed the line of your sleeve, hooking his pointer finger underneath the soaking wet material before sending a look of permission up toward you. You simply nodded, worrying your lip between your teeth as he slowly started dragging it down your arm, the loose bodice coming down with it.

It was agonizing as he took his time undressing you. But you did your best to hold still, only moving to help when it was absolutely necessary. He scooted forward enough to reach both arms around you, working the strings of your corset in order to free you of the garment. No sooner did it fall loose around you, he tugged it down, and you yelped in surprise. Your arms flew over your chest for warmth if nothing else.

"Ah ah ah, none of that… c'mere," he coaxed you forward with the curl of his finger. You slowly pulled your arms from your chest and placed your hands on the side of the tub to lift yourself up and toward him. As you did, he made quick work to slide your dress and undergarments down and off of you, pulling them up out of the water and disposing of them over the side of the tub.

The wet slap of the fabric sent both of you into a fit of laughter once more, and you thought to yourself that you might die a happy woman if you could hear him laughing for the rest of your days. When you finally composed yourself, the two of you simply gazed longingly at one another for a moment.

Just then, a sudden clap of thunder shook you out of the bliss, and sent you careening forward into Arthur's arms for safety. He didn't even think twice about wrapping his arms around you, running his broad calloused hands up your back to calm you down.

"Yer a'right girl…" hearing that voice coming from him was so different when your ear was pressed against his chest. You could feel the vibrations moving through him as he spoke, and it grounded you to him.

After a bit of shifting, the two of you found a comfortable position in the bath, your head against his left shoulder, your left hand drawing nondescript shapes on the skin between his stomach and his sternum. His arms were tight around you, and you felt genuinely safe. You couldn't think of the last time a lover had held you and made you feel so secure.

"So… this still only gonna cost me 50¢ more?"

You laughed softly, looking up at Arthur. "I'll only charge you extra if you give me a reason to. This ain't even work for me no more." You kept on staring up at Arthur, eyes half lidded as he just grinned down at you. He seemed way too pleased with himself right now. But that didn't really seem to matter. All that mattered was the way he was gazing down on you, and how his lips— wait, were his lips getting closer?

Before you knew it, you were tilting your head up to meet him in the middle, your mouths coming together softly in a warm kiss. The tickle of his unkempt facial hair was perfection against your cheeks, and the way his slightly chapped lips moved against your own set a fire alight in your belly. It wasn't long before his hands started to wander. Yours too. You hadn't gotten back to finishing what you started, after all.

When you grasped his erection this time, though, you could tell he was rock hard now. Shifting, you broke your kiss so you could move between his knees, one hand working his cock and the other pushing his left knee against the side of the tub. His hands scrambled for purchase anywhere they could grasp. You were certainly not going easy on him this time. No need to test the waters when you were already submerged in more ways than one.

He let out a choked sound, his head bumping back against the porcelain again. " Shit , slow down already, this don't gotta be all about me, you know!" You chuckled, but didn't quit, instead settling to shoot Arthur a mischievous look as you continued pumping your hand up and down his length. Out of nowhere, one of his hands grasped your forearm and stopped you in your tracks. "Dammit, I said stop. You keep this up and this'll be over before it's even started."

"Oh, we're just getting started, are we? This was supposed to be your bath, and I’m at work, remember?" You teased him and he just snickered. Something was stirring in your loins, something you never would have believed if you had the ability to go back in time and warn yourself. "What have you got in mind, Arthur?"

"Well… I was thinking," his voice trailed off as his hands started moving along your body. One traced along the underside of your breast, teasing a featherlight touch up over your nipple. You keened, jaw dropping at the sensation. He left a line of water in the wake of his fingertip, and the cool air hitting your skin hardened your nipple into a tight pink rosebud, which he couldn't take his eyes off of.

Your hands grasped the side of the tub once again as Arthur sat forward, arms wrapping around your middle as his lips found their way to your flesh once more. He wasn't about to waste time beating around the bush, he instead started with a searing kiss directly to the valley between your breasts, before sucking little marks into the skin in an almost-straight line to your other pebbled bud. He took the nipple in between his lips and lapped at it softly, worshipping each sound that came from you, and even groaning himself when he sucked, which had elicited an even dirtier noise from your throat.

It was during this distraction that his wandering hands found their way down between your bodies, until his fingers carded through the soft patch of hair above your mound. You startled a little at the sensation, feeling as if you were going to burst into flames at any moment. “What’re you doing, huh?”

“Why don’t you let me give you the deluxe experience?” His voice had become impossibly deeper. You didn’t think it was possible. There was a certain determination behind his words that made the excitement bubble up in the form of nervous laughter in your chest. “Don’t laugh, sweetheart, yer hurtin’ my feelings,” he half whined.

“I’m not laughin’ at you, I’m— just laughin’ ,” you insisted, your hands raising out of the water in surrender.

“That so? Well, let’s see what other sounds you can make.” His hands disappeared under the water, and smoothed over your curves, following the line of your waist and admiring the arch of your back as he explored on. Eventually, his left hand came to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your cheekbone. He gazed into your eyes as his right hand finally reached your core under the water. Your jaw slacked as he palmed over your core. “Pretty girl,” he sighed as your brows turned down in satisfaction. You settled a little deeper into your straddle, thighs parting a bit more to allow him the space to continue his caress, until you snapped into your senses.

“No— not in the water. Why don’t we go to your room?” You panted as his fingers traced a line along your slit. You shivered, but just as soon as he had done it, his hand retreated.

“Sounds fine to me,” he agreed, sitting back once more, his left hand brushing your wet hair back behind your ear as you got your wits about you again.

You rose from the water after getting your shaky legs under you, and you couldn’t ignore the way those eyes raked over your figure. This was the first time in a while a man had seen you so exposed, and definitely the first time that you really loved it. The way his baby blues drank in the sight of you made you want him even more. “C’mon, I gotta drain the tub.”

When you stepped out of the bath and onto the wooden floor, you looked down at all the water that had accumulated under the bathtub, as well as your soaking wet pile of clothes on the ground beside it. “I guess it’s a good thing your room’s right across the hall, huh?” you joked, looking back at him as he pushed on the edge of the tub to get up. He looked over the side at your dress and just laughed in response.

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to hang that thing up to dry, ain’t we?” You giggled at the sentiment and nodded in agreement, watching as he stood up in the bathwater. It was your turn to stare now, finally seeing him fully without the bubbly water to block out your line of sight. The hair that crossed his chest was smattered over his tummy as well, and he was toned from his thick shoulders down to his legs. Roughing it out in the wilderness did that to you.

“Like what you see?” You looked up at him then, surprised at his words calling you out.

Eyes wide, you answered, “Maybe I do. But I think we have that in common.” You watched his gaze trace your curves in all of their glory, and you felt that anticipation settling back into your loins.

Mopping the baths would have to wait.

A few minutes later and the two of you were across the hall. You’d tossed your hair up in one of the towels, and both of you have wrapped the last two around your bodies to cross from one room to the other in a fit of laughter in between claps of thunder. It was serendipitous and flirty and so different from the monotony of what you’d become accustomed to living in this little town. It was something you didn’t want to think about ending when the morning came. So you didn’t.

You threw your dripping wet dress over the back of the wooden chair to dry while Arthur shut the door behind both of you, and then dropped his towel. You turned to look when the soft sound hit your ears, and you smiled shyly, one hand gripping the seam of the towel covering you while the other ran over the back of your neck.

“Well. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable over on that bed, sweetheart?” he gestured over to the far side of the room as he walked past you to draw the curtains shut fully. The storm was still tearing through the woods in the distance, lightning flashing over the landscape and leaving black silhouettes of the clusters of trees in its wake.

Your eyes took inventory of the scars littering his back as you padded over to the bed and let the towel slip down to the floor. His muscles rippled as he tugged the curtains together and turned back to face you as you scooted back against the headboard. A grin spread across his lips, and he lifted one knee to follow you onto the bed, nestling between your thighs as you laid your head back onto the singular pillow. Your hair was still wrapped up in the towel, so hopefully you wouldn’t leave the pillowcase cold and wet for Arthur when he was ready to sleep on it. It seemed to be the least of his worries right now, though.

Instead, he was preoccupied with catching your lips with his, kissing you with renewed vigor. You moaned against his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as his hands got to work once again. He traced his fingertips back down your torso to continue the explorations he’d started across the hall, and you keened at his touch, knees parting a bit more. You sighed, and he stopped kissing you to admire the aroused expression of your face as his fingers dipped into your heat. The curling of his fingers was delicious, and short lived as another idea worked its way into that rough and tumble brain of his.

You whined as he withdrew his fingers from you, and opened your eyes to watch him bring those same fingers up to lick them clean. Your palm covered your mouth in disbelief. Filthy , you thought, but couldn’t deny the way it made you feel. The anticipation was mounting again as he wiggled his brows at you, fully aware that you were watching as he ducked to kiss a trail from your collar bone, down your chest, over your belly, and finally, scooting back on the bed, his mouth disappeared into your core.

You tossed your head back against the pillow and let out another whine, feeling his tongue flatten against your sex, spreading you open and tasting you. Your thighs fell open fully now, one leg lying flat on the mattress as he got into a comfortable position to devour you. His tongue drew slow circles over your clit, his hands coming to part your lips and grant him more access to your bud. You moaned fully now as he flicked his tongue against you, toes curling at the sensation.

You weren’t sure how long he chased your pleasure for, but two things you knew for sure were this: that he seemed to be fueled by the sound that came from your chest when he sucked just the right way, and that he was amused by the way your right calf seemed to shake involuntarily when he licked against your clit quickly enough. The rumbling chuckle that came from his chest was evidence enough for that.

Your hands gripped the thin blanket beneath you and your hips rolled, the urge to grind was uncontrollable. Your climax came upon you so suddenly that even Arthur seemed surprised when your thighs came together around his head. He flattened his tongue against you once more, letting you ride against his mouth until you were finished using it for pleasure.

You laid there for a bit, chest heaving as you came down from your high and he just enjoyed the soft skin on the inside of your thigh as he rested his head on it. He drew oh-so-slow circles over your swollen clit with the pad of his pointer finger, watching your hips buck lightly as you accepted the good-natured overstimulation.

“See, I told you my mouth gets me outta trouble sometimes,” he finally said triumphantly, crows feet forming at the corners of his eyes as he smiled up at you again. You just laughed breathlessly and reached down to push the damp hair back over his head. “I got other ways, too, though.”

“Care to show me then?” you asked without a second thought, your breath still uneven as he pushed himself up onto his knees. He wasted no time, hooking his hands under your knees and tugging you down to his end of the bed. The lightning outside flashed again as he draped your thighs over his own, and you gasped at the sight. His cock stood at attention beyond your apex, his tip weeping with precum dripping over the blushing pink foreskin. Your mouth watered as he reached down and took himself into his palm. He studied your eyes as he stroked himself once, twice, three times. You worried your lip between your teeth impatiently, but were rewarded nonetheless as he tilted his head down to drop spit into his free hand, smearing it over his cock. You were already completely soaked from your first orgasm, but it couldn’t hurt…

You craned your head to watch him guide his erection down to your searing sex, his tip pressing between your lips as he drew a teasing line from your clit down to your entrance, then back up again to gather as much slick as you had to offer. Your mouth hung open as he dragged it down once again, finally sinking the head of his cock inside of you slowly. Your back arched at the stretch, toes curling as your eyes shut. You focused on the delicious drag of him filling you, and the way it felt. It was like he was handmade for you, or maybe you were made for him.

Perhaps you were made for each other and this cruel world had actually done something right in bringing the two of you together.

“You a’right?” He sounded worried, and you opened your eyes to meet his.

“Y-yeah, why?” You answered, jaw still a bit slack.

“You looked… sad. Jus’ checkin’ in is all ,” he murmured, one hand reaching up to cup your cheek softly. Your heart squeezed at his words, and you smiled softly, turning your head to press a kiss against his palm.

“I’m perfect.” You reassured him by rolling your hips, and both of you moaned at the sensation. It was as if you’d reminded him what he was actually meant to be doing. Both of his hands dropped to your waist, hoisting you up a bit to give him a better angle to start a steady rhythm. It drew a deep groan of a moan from his chest, and you couldn’t have come up with a better sound. “You’re perfect.”

He didn’t say anything, instead picking up speed as he leaned forward, one hand planting next to your head. Your own hands came up to wrap around him, clutching the flesh on his upper back as he thrust into you with determination. You were still a bit sensitive from your last climax, and he was set up for a quick one of his own after all the teasing and foreplay he’d subjected himself to.

The room filled with soft pants and moans from both of you, drowned out by the rain pounding on the glass and the wind groaning against the side of the hotel. On a normal day, the other patrons might hear what was going on, but mother nature ensured that neither of you had to worry about anything except for one another’s pleasure. The pattern of his thrusts became ragged, and he hunched over you, his mouth hovering over your neck as he attempted to keep his composure. It was tough.

You were a mess underneath him, your thighs spread far as you chased that build up once again. Your right hand snaked down the space between you to circle over your throbbing clit, and it spelled the end for you both. Your second orgasm ripped through you, and your eyes screwed shut. Your back arched, and Arthur groaned, fucking you through it, and gasping at the feeling up your heat tightening around him. It wasn’t long before he pulled himself back, his hand stroking his cock again to reach his own high.

You continued to sloppily draw your fingertip over your bud, hips bucking again and again as Arthur painted your belly with his spend. He looked down, his hand slowing as he took in the sight of your hand trying to continue its uneven, distracted work, until it too, halted.

“Mah— ahh… My hand is crampin’,” you admitted, head lolling back against the towel that was just barely holding your hair up now. Arthur laughed at your words and took your hand into his own, squeezing it.

“I hate to say this… But I think we need to get back into the bath.”

You sat silent for a moment, before lifting your head to look back down at the mess you’d made of one another.

“I think yer right, Arthur…”

The tub was definitely drained by now. All you had to do was find the strength to get up and go fill it up once again.

Today, January 28th, is the 2-year anniversary of my stage 4 diagnosis. In a way, it feels more significant than my initial cancer news. I had four days being horrified, but thinking that I would get through this as a phase in my life. It would be terrible--I’d have a double mastectomy, scorched-earth chemo, radiation, anything to get rid of the cancer--but then it would be done. On the Monday following my first set of CT scans I learned that that was not true. My lungs were full of tumors. (Later, after lots of waiting, MRIs and biopsies, I'd find that my lymph nodes, spine, and liver were affected too. I still have tumors in all those locations, but no new ones.) I wrote a description of getting that news in an email to a friend over the summer, after I had read Anne Boyer’s "The Undying”:

“The worst part about the lung tumors for me was that my dad had gotten a very early flight and I learned the news while he was in the air. My mom told me we could not text or tell him on the phone, that he would need to be with us both. So I drove to Newark straight from the doctor's office. It was in the teens outside and windy as we slogged to the baggage area where we were to meet. I saw my dad in his warmest and ugliest puffy orange down jacket, looking small in it, forlorn and horribly vulnerable. I fell into his arms, thinking at least that airports were such horrible places, so impersonal and banal, that no one would look twice. 'It's in my lungs,' I said into his shoulder so that I would not have to see his face. I was crying into the jacket that somehow smelled of winter cold even though he had been inside for hours. 'Please, Daddy. Fix it, please.' I spoke like a child because, on some very deep level, I think I really did still believe that my father could fix anything. I was embarrassed, though, and so I tried to stem my tears as he put his big hand on the back of my head and said, 'Oh sweetie, we'll get through this. We will.' I knew that really he could do nothing--and that this was his nightmare of powerlessness--and so I sniffed and blinked and I did not let myself cry again until June.”

Two years later this moment seems as if it just happened. The impact of my diagnosis on everyone dear to me, and especially my parents, is one of the worst things about it for me. We all know that there’s only so much “better” I can get, with the current science, and we’re all playing for time while the research moves forward towards something better, something that would make this a treatable chronic condition. I go back and forth, emotionally, on how likely I think that is and how good my position is for the future. Right now, comparing myself to the group member who died, I feel relatively fortunate, even as chemo exhausts me, I lose every scrap of hair that was ever on my body, and I spend half of my days being almost unable to eat from nausea and loss of taste. I feel glad that I was able to get Saci, that my body has so far stood up to the ceaseless trials I have put it through, with four treatments and surgery (and full-time work and living alone etc. etc.). I feel strong, not scared, even as I feel the emotional toll of terrible loneliness from covid isolation, winter, and carrying a sick body through my days alone.

I do not love the “fight” metaphor because so much of having an illness is completely out of your control and I never want to take myself (or anyone else) to task for “losing.” And so instead I will praise my body for enduring. I will praise myself for my enduring also, in both an emotional and physical way. I checked back in on how I was feeling as this anniversary approached last year and was pleased to see how much better I feel about it now, partly as a function of being in a treatment that is (likely) keeping me stable rather than in the midst of choosing another new one. Here is what I wrote back to my group of friends in November 2019, the run up to the one-year mark:

“I’m feeling like I can’t plan and don’t want to celebrate, like I can’t perform “fine” for the people in my life to spare them from the pain I’m causing by not doing better and feeling horrible about it. Perhaps it would help if I let them know that they didn’t need to perform “fine” for me? I understand the desire to protect me from the obligation to take care of them and appreciate it. But sometimes it can feel like I’m the only one experiencing anger or grief or pain, though I know I’m not. Feeling so isolated in my emotional response provides no catharsis for it. Compassion and sympathy function on the notion of “fellow feeling.” If you’re just out here, feeling by yourself, you can’t expect any comfort. As always, I think of the moment in the Iliad when Priam and Achilles cry together over dead Hector. Grief (and you can grieve for many things aside from a death) is something explicitly to be shared.” So I guess I’ve shared it here. I can do that. And I can do another thing, which is to tell you I love you. People don’t really say it enough and reserve it too entirely for romantic contexts. It’s weird--it’s not like we are wartime rationing love! And every time anyone says it to me it helps. It’s an affirmation that I am integral in some way to people’s lives which, in a society that so greatly valorizes marriage/partnership and children, is something I can be in doubt about.”

There are some things I like here, though, and that I would now like to reiterate and invite you, my far-flung friends, to do for my 2-year milestone. Never has the notion of “fellow feeling” in times of grief and depression hit harder or been more important than during covid. In a way, the nation (or even world) was forced into much the same position, emotionally and practically, that my cancer put me in. People are isolated, unable to perform “fine” and wondering if other people feel the same way, or even if any of us can take care of each other at all. I am here to tell you that you can. Maybe not immediately but--sooner than you think--you can. Emotional reserves may be low but reaching out to support someone else can actually replenish them. You do not have to feel alone, or to feel, alone.

And for me, for this milestone and for the cancer-related depression that I certainly do have, I’d like to invite you to help me, so that I can do the same for you. I invite you to write something about how this milestone feels for you (either about me or not), how it relates to all the other insane things going on in the world or with you (not about me at all), how you felt on the original day when I shared my stage 4 diagnosis (definitely about me)--really anything that is on your mind or in your heart.

“Oh great,” you may think, “the English PhD has asked us to do homework!”. But no! It's up to you what you do. Write in whatever form you want, however long, even anonymously. And if you do I will write you back! Not with grades or comments, but with something to connect to what you shared. It is a way to create fellow-feeling; to open up, connect, heal. With me, yes, but also as the group of extraordinary people who have gone with me so far on this hard road. It’s a very different proposition to support someone through time-limited treatment with a good outcome than it is to sign on for whatever comes next. You are all, truly, pretty extraordinary.

Anyone who wants to send a note or reflection can email me or drop a file or post in this Google drive folder. Like I said, feel free to share whatever and do it anonymously if you’d rather. You can also askbox me here (better than DMS) or submit a post to this blog. (I'm taking a chance with open DMs for now...we'll see if that needs to change.)

I am grateful for all of you every day, but especially today.

Love, Bex