Along Came a Spider Ch. 05

After the thirty minutes had passed, Tabitha found that she couldn't quite remember them.

She awoke from her frenzy inside a gleaming apartment that smelled strongly of Pledge and Windex, clutching a handful of folded clothes and sitting on her knees near her dresser, to a soft knock at her door. She turned her wide-eyed stare towards her hallway and swallowed before cramming those clothes back into their designated drawer, slamming it shut, and stumbling towards the door. When she opened it, James was looming in her doorway with his hands behind his back. He slowly brought them into view. In one hand he held that red book, and in the other, three DVD boxes.

"I come bearing movies," he said. "And classic American literature."

"Thanks," Tabitha said breathlessly. "Please, come in." He stepped inside, and his nose wrinkled, just slightly.

"It's very...clean in here," he said, and she felt herself die a little inside. He kept his eyes on her as she shut the door, and when she looked up at him, he was smiling. "I keep forgetting that you're one of those tidy ones."

"I'm sorry---I made a complete mess of the place earlier, and I think I went a little overboard---"

"Don't apologize. We can't help what we are." He looked around and raised his eyebrows as he pressed the book into her hands. "I hope you didn't do it because I was coming over."

"No. It's mostly for me," Tabitha admitted, keeping her head turned away from him as she led him inside. She brandished the book towards the kitchen. "Do you want a drink or something...?"

"I'm fine." She sank hesitantly onto one of her living room couches, and he dropped down next to her and held up the three boxes. "What are you in the mood for?"

"I don't know. I don't think I've seen any of these," Tabitha said, scanning the titles, and from behind the boxes, she saw his eyes widen slightly.

"You've never seen Fight Club?"

She shook her head mournfully. "I haven't seen a lot of movies. Lily gives me crap about it all the time."

"Then I'm glad that I get to show it to you," he laughed, rising up from the couch. "It's a good one. I saw it when it came out and fell in love with it."

"How old is it?"

Knelt in front of her DVD player, James shrugged. "I'm not sure. Late nineties, maybe."

Unconsciously, Tabitha began to chew on her thumbnail. "And, um...how old are you?" she asked carefully. He glanced back at her from over his shoulder.

"Twenty-eight," he said, without missing a beat.

She gave him a wide, nervous sort of grin. "So you're an old man."

"Practically a fossil." The DVD player buzzed as it accepted the disc. The screen flickered to life, bleaching James's face white as he stalked to her side and flopped back onto the couch. He handed her the remote. "You can do the honors."

He shifted so his arm was resting on the head of the couch, directly over her shoulders, and she gave him a curious look as the menu screen popped up. "Should I make popcorn or something? And...and you're sure you aren't thirsty?" she asked, and he smiled down at her.

"I'm fine, I promise." She shrugged and pressed the play button. "I don't think it's going to run off if you set it down for a bit," he added, and when she gave him an inquisitive look, he nodded towards the red book in her hands. She realized she had it clutched against her chest and quickly set it on the coffee table. His arm had slid a few inches downwards. She was very, very aware of the hem of his shirt sleeve skimming her neck. Her whole world shrank down to that minuscule area of contact.

"I'm just excited to read it," she admitted, trying her best to ignore his closeness, the way that his arm surrounded her. "Thank you."

"I hope you like it." He turned back towards the television, where a series of psychedelic CGI credits had begun to roll, and his fingertips grazed the exposed skin of her shoulder.

Tabitha glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He looked so at ease, like her couch was one of his favorite lounging places and he'd just come home to it after a long, long day. It made her painfully conscious of how tense she was, practically balled up under his arm like a nervous armadillo. He seemed to sense her gaze, because he slowly---so slowly that the movement was only just perceptible at all---tilted his head towards her. The corners of his eyes crinkled a bit when he caught her staring. His arm slipped down, draped itself slowly over her shoulders.

She turned her head towards him, and simultaneously, he leaned into her. Their lips touched once, twice, and then he was shifting so his body was facing her and she was sliding back against the armrest and reaching out to urge him closer.

He crawled on top of her to kiss her again, and she shivered as his left hand slithered under the hem of her skirt and felt its way up to her waist, trailing cool, clever fingertips over her thighs and hips. She could feel the material of his jeans rasping against her legs. His mouth moved slow and hard over hers, like he was devouring her and savoring every precious drop. He finally severed their lips and trailed a soft line of kisses across her cheek, and Tabitha writhed against him like a purring kitten when his mouth grazed her earlobe.

Then, he stopped.

He hung his head and heaved a defeated sigh. Tabitha shut her eyes tight as his breath flooded over her in a rush. It felt like being submerged in a warm, roaring bath. "I think," he said into her ear, "that I would like some water."

Tabitha swallowed hard. Slow. Slower. She tried to convince herself that it was for the best. "S-second door from the left," she said weakly. "The glasses, I mean."

He pushed himself off of the couch and treaded to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes hard as he walked. She hit the "pause" button on the remote and smoothed her dress down from where it had bunched up around her thighs. When she saw him open a cabinet and stare blankly at the rows of bowls and plates, she rolled onto her feet and hurried into the kitchen with him. "No, no," she said, pulling open the cabinet next to it. "This one." Her nerves were still a little unsteady, and her hand trembled as she removed a glass.

He watched her through heavy eyelids as she knelt over the faucet. When she handed him the brimming glass, his mouth curved into a little smile. That expression paired with the hazy look in his eyes was doing something to her stomach. He took a brief sip, and she felt her breath catch when he rasped his tongue over his lower lip to catch a stray drop. He set down the glass. Neither of them spoke.

His eyes stayed fixed on her face as Tabitha wrapped her arms around his neck. She paused, but then leaned forward and kissed the hollow spot just above his collarbone. He pressed his back against the countertop, like he was trying to keep himself away from her, but she trailed her lips up to his shoulder, his throat, the underside of his jaw. One of his hands caught itself in a few strands of her hair, and he bent towards her helplessly as she drew herself up onto her tiptoes to reach his mouth. Her lips skimmed over his, a whisper of a kiss. His other hand clutched at her waist with near-desperation as she draped the length of her body against him, marveling at the way that they fit together like puzzle pieces. The smoldering embers in his eyes had ignited into a slow, steady blaze.

"You're going to get yourself into trouble," he said huskily.

Her mouth slipped open, and she paused before brushing her nose against his, a slow tilt of her head. A nod. She kissed his lower lip. "I think I want trouble," she admitted.

Those were the magic words. All of that slowness, that softness, went straight out the window.

He pushed her forward, and she barely had time to yelp before he had her back pressed up against the pantry door. His body molded itself to hers, and heat rose in her stomach as he parted her legs with his knee and lifted it until his thigh was pressed against the hot, tender spot between her legs. He drank from her lips like a dying man. She only saw herself knot her fingers into his hair and tug hard, and when he reciprocated, jerking her head to the side so he could ravage her neck with his mouth, she felt her knees tremble.

"This kind of trouble?" he said, with menacing delicacy.

"Yes," she breathed, and her chest hitched as he brought his knee up a little higher. She felt like a butterfly, spread out wide and pinned in place just for him. His hands moved from her hair and tugged at the hem of her dress, lifting it up to her belly. Then he slipped one of his hands beneath it and felt around, up and up. Tabitha remembered too late that she wasn't wearing a bra, and he rewarded that discovery with a ragged sigh before he began to knead one of her breasts deliciously in his palm. His attention went to her nipples next, pinching and rolling them against his thumb and forefinger. Her hips were circling slowly, unconsciously, like she wasn't the one in control of them.

He arched his back and thrust himself against her, his breathing shallow. She shivered, then lifted her leg and wound it tightly around his hip to pull him in close. She could feel his stiffness digging into her skin through his jeans. He closed his eyes and leaned one arm against the pantry door, and when she rolled her hips urgently to tease herself against his thigh, he lifted that hand to smother his mouth. He looked almost overwhelmed.

Tabitha's heart sank. She wondered if she had finally gone a step too far, if he really was trying to restrain himself and she was making it too difficult. They had agreed to go slow---mostly for her benefit---and she was throwing that right back in his face. Maybe he was angry with her. But when he opened his eyes, she knew immediately that she was wrong. They seemed darker somehow beneath the line of his lashes, like the whites were in danger of disappearing behind all of that black.

He wanted more. He wanted more very, very much.

He suddenly turned her in his arms so she was facing away from him and shoved her hastily towards the kitchen table. He bent her at the waist until she had to press her palms flat against the table to keep upright, then drew the hem of her dress up around her hips. Her panties went next; tugged down to her knees with an impatient jerk of his wrist. His trembling hands gripped her thighs and opened her, and then he was fumbling with his jeans and entering her with a sharp sort of gasp. She bit down hard on her lip as her body yielded to his with some resistance, her hands clenching into fists in front of her, but he was stroking her hair and doing such sweet things to the tip of her ear with his lips, and when he pushed into her again, she felt herself unwinding.

He moved slowly at first, but the tension in his arms betrayed his anticipation. He waited only until Tabitha's body had loosened slightly, and then he began to take her hard, fast. The weight of his hips was pushing her torso further and further over the surface of the table, until he had her up on her tiptoes in front of him. Her fingers were scraping against the tabletop like she was a wild animal trapped in a cage. Her inside were churning with heat and jittery excitement pricked at her like cold needles. She thought being fucked like this would hurt somehow, but it had drawn her into a sort of heady stupor. Her body was acting on its own, spreading her legs wider so he could go deeper, harder.

He knelt to nip her shoulder, breathing hard, and Tabitha choked out a wail as he continued to pound savagely into her. One of his hands had slid up her dress to maul her breasts, holding her in place as he thrust into her again, again, again...

"Ahh-h," she sobbed. Every inch of her body was throbbing with her heartbeat. The pulsing heat inside of her was thickening into something sharp, and she let out another quivering noise that sounded just shy of agony. "J-J-James---I-I think I'm breaking---"

"God, yes," he hissed through his teeth, never breaking his urgent rhythm. The excitement in his voice brought forth a lurch from somewhere just below her belly. "Come for me, baby; give it to me, please," he begged hoarsely.

That did it.

Tabitha's limbs jerked as every part of her wound up tight and shattered, like some perfect cosmic death. He didn't stop for her, not even as she felt herself tautening around him. Rhythmic ripples broke over her in time with his thrusts until she was limp underneath him, her head lolling against the table. Each of his strokes inside of her elicited more of that wonderful, thick, full intensity. Her knees felt like they had been replaced by quivering pillars of jelly. It was simultaneously beautiful and horrifying, she thought hopelessly, that someone was capable of inflicting this sort of feeling upon another human being.

He finally paused, panting, but her relief was short-lived. Only seconds later he was plunging into her again, heavy and desperate until she felt herself succumbing again to that familiar drowning sensation. She parted her lips and closed her eyes drowsily, reveling in the sensation of him moving inside of her, and above her, she heard a ravenous groan tear from his throat. She tilted her head to look at him from over her shoulder, but his fingers seized her chin and gripped it hard, keeping her face turned forward.

His hips slammed against the backs of her thighs with a new roughness---two, three, four more times---and when she began to cry out in time with his thrusts, he quickly pressed his palm over her mouth. Then he was gasping raggedly against the nape of her neck, his body blissfully loose on top of hers. His thumb stroked the side of her cheek reassuringly and she let out a sigh from beneath his fingers, her eyes staring out at nothing and slitted with sticky, syrupy-slow satisfaction.

"Oh," she said weakly, and she felt him shudder.

"Shh-shh-shh." His voice was a soft tickle between her shoulder blades. After a brief silence, he removed his palm from her mouth.

Several seconds passed before Tabitha could summon the strength to speak properly. When she did, her voice sounded very small. "Was I being too loud?"

"Oh, no. Never." He drew his lips together in a slow kiss over her spine. "I think I enjoyed it a little too much, actually," he said against her skin, and she shivered.

He pulled away, and she felt herself twitch as he slid out of her. His fingers closed around the back of one of her chairs, dragged it a few inches back from the tabletop, and then he slumped into it and smoothed his hair back. It was mussed a bit on the sides where she had gripped it. His other hand touched her waist and drew her closer, and Tabitha obediently dropped into his lap. His zipper was still undone, and she flushed when she realized her panties were dangling from her left ankle. He didn't seem to care. To her surprise, Tabitha found that she didn't mind much, either.

She buried her face into the crook of his neck. She felt drunk. "So much for slow," she said into his shoulder, tasting his sweat on her mouth.

"We tried." His voice was soft, like he had just woken from a trance.

"I don't know about that."

He laughed wearily and kissed the crown of her head. She closed her eyes. "You look tired, and it's getting late. I should let you rest." His body tensed, like he was preparing to rise, and her eyes snapped open.

"Wait," she blurted out, feeling ridiculous, and he tilted his head to gaze down at her with dark eyes that were still molten with pleasure. A delightful little chill ran up her spine. "We need to finish the movie...right?"

"You can bring it back whenever you watch it. It's not like I don't know where to find you."

"I think I'd rather watch it with you."

"You don't have work tomorrow?" She shook her head. "Then I'll stay a few more hours. I just don't want to inflict my schedule on you."

"You don't have to worry about me like that," she said indignantly. "I'm not afraid of kicking you out."

A big grin spread across his face. "Would you scold me if I stuck around too long?"

"Yes. And then I'd chase you out with the broom," Tabitha said, and she narrowed her eyes as he began to chuckle. "What's so funny?"

"I bet you're fierce when you're angry. I bet it's really cute," he admitted.

"I hear," Tabitha said, crossing her arms, "that I can be quite terrifying."

"Oh, I'm sure you can," he said, and when she made a face, he jostled her in his lap and kissed her cheek. "Get dressed so we can restart the movie," he said cheerfully, and when she stood, she let out an annoyed sort of yelp as his fingers rose to pinch the backs of her thigh.

A few minutes later, Tabitha emerged from her bathroom and found James sprawled out on her couch. She perched on the other end and shifted so she was sitting between his spindly legs, then began to rummage for the remote control. "I forgot to ask if this one has a happy ending," she said, and he pondered that for a moment.

"Sort of," he finally said. "It's interesting. Violent, nihilistic...and the whole plot is mostly a rant about how our country is developing a culture of materialism."

"...That just sounds depressing."

"It's a necessary kind of depressing. And it's funny. I think you'll like it."

She pressed play and gave him a cautious smile. "I guess I'll just have to trust you." He inclined his head and gazed out at her curiously from beneath the fringe of his lashes. One of her feet skimmed the surface of his thigh, trailed a procession of toes over the material of his jeans, and for several seconds, they only stared at one another. Edward Norton's voice was droning something in the background.

"I guess you will," James said. His fingers played idly over the arm of his couch as he watched her, and she finally dragged her eyes away from him to look at the screen.

Deep in the city, a lonely figure walked the luminous streets. The city shone warped and blurry on the wet sidewalk, like the ground was a tarnished mirror, but her body wasn't part of that reflection. She didn't even cast a shadow. Her pink eyes followed a pair of emaciated youths as they paced near a bench, chatting loudly, dressed in layers of filthy odds and ends. When their mouths opened, their teeth were stained brown. The girl's hair was a short halo of ragged ends, all uneven like she had hacked it off with a straight razor. They smelled like month-old sweat.

Nobody would miss them.

Her stomach growled as she passed them, and she clutched at her abdomen with a shaking fist. Her other hand stretched towards the man yearningly, but just as her fingers brushed the curve of his shoulder, a shock of pain surged through her chest. She choked and doubled over, and a sudden feeling of hopelessness made her feel weak. This was what she had become. An ancient entity, once feared and respected, reduced to a starving husk at the beck and call of humans. Muzzled and choke-chained like a dog. To her surprise, the man suddenly turned to face her. He blinked at her.

"Holy moly, girl, aren't you cold?" he asked incredulously, his eyes tracing the length of her naked body. He tugged on his companion's sleeve. "Hey, Star, don't you have any extra clothes for this lady?"

The girl glanced back at them and immediately clapped a hand over her mouth. The starving woman bared her teeth angrily, crossed her arms and fell back into step, walking faster this time until the world blurred around her and buildings flew past her in a rush. Stringy dark hair fluttered behind her like a tattered flag.

She stopped when she was surrounded by the familiar, dingy glow of a kitchen, then slumped to the floor on her knees. Two men were conversing darkly near the counter, nursing mugs of instant coffee. She coughed, and they both looked down at her with identical expressions of disinterest.