He touched her softly, as if he thought she would break. He touched her with reverence, as if he thought she was some sort of gift. He touched her.
For the last time.
He'd agreed to let her stay, let her lie here beside him, but they'd both known it would end like this. They'd both known from the moment on the porch when they'd had to force themselves to pull away from the natural, instinctive reaction, that there was nothing settled between them, nothing over.
He'd stripped down to his boxers and wife beater, shifting shyly in the corner of his bedroom. He looked nervous, as if he wished he were back in his clothes or, better yet, in even more clothes than he'd had on previously.
She licked her lips and turned her back to him, the smooth line of it shrouded in the silkiness of her dress. "Unzip me?"
It was a simple request, one with no hint of seduction, of romance. But still his heart beat furiously as he stepped closer to her and forced his fingers, which suddenly felt as if they were two sizes too big, to grasp the tiny, beige handle and slide it down her body.
She stepped out of it as it fell to the floor, standing in front of him now, showing nothing and everything all at once. She moved away to sit on the edge of his bed and slip off her shoes, and then her nylons. He never understood why she wore them, when her skin was as golden as anything manmade.
"Did I mention that you looked beautiful tonight?" His voice was hoarse, uncertain.
"You did," she nodded as she neatly folded her clothes, draping them over the back of his chair. "Did I mention how handsome you looked? The blue matched your eyes."
He sighed shakily and moved to the other side of the bed, tugging the covers back. His room was clean, his bed made. She wondered at it, wondered if Gretchen had done it or if he'd done it. He'd once told her that physical work got his mind off other things. He'd told her that as she'd helped him sand the True Love, neither of them knowing then that they'd end up here.
She missed their boat. She missed being lost alone at sea with him.
"Do you need the alarm set for anything?" He asked as he sat down, still so far away from her. "Any pressing engagements in the morning?"
"No. I'm free this weekend." She managed a weak smile as she pulled back the covers on her side of the bed. She felt naked in front of him in just a bra and panties, and yet she didn't feel naked enough. She wanted to feel the heat of his body, of his skin pressed to hers. "You?"
"My schedule is surprisingly clear, given all the social functions I usually participate in." He laid back and turned on his side to give her an impish grin, showing her he was teasing. She missed the time when she would have known without it.
"Well," she sighed and lay back as well, staring up at his ceiling. "Goodnight, then."
"Goodnight, Joey." He shifted onto his back and silence moved between them.
"You know…" He started just as she began to speak.
"This reminds me…"
They laughed together and he shook his head. "You first."
"I was thinking of that night at Dawson's Aunt Gwen's. Lying beside you then."
"Me too."
"Which is kind of funny, because I've lain beside you a million times since then and never once thought of that night."
"That was the last time we were uncomfortable lying next to each other," He told her softly. "Both wanting something we knew we couldn't have."
"But we did have it." She bit her lower lip, still transfixed with the shadows moving on his ceiling. "Eventually."
"We did." He shifted slightly. "But now we've come full circle. We're at the point where there's a lot of unspoken stuff between us and neither of us wants to say any of it for fear of being hurt or rejected or…"
"Accepted?"
He tilted his head toward her in acquiescence. "Goodnight, Joey."
"Goodnight, Pacey." She turned on her side, facing away from him. Sobs lingered deep in her chest, struggling past pride and pain to get out. She'd wanted this, needed this so much when she'd asked him for it. Needed another night with him, another moment.
"Jo?" She turned back around, her eyes seeking his in the darkness, but his gaze was locked on the ceiling. He was lying on his back, the arm closest to her stretched up over his head. "Come here?"
She caught the sob as it broke free, moving into his embrace quickly, and capturing the tears on the thin cotton of his shirt. His arm wrapped around her and held her to him, as he whispered soft, silky words of comfort and regret.
She lifted her head, her face tearstained. Her tongue darted out to dampen parched lips as she looked down at him. "Pace?"
"Go to sleep, Jo."
She nodded and lowered her head once again; content to be held by him. She focused on his breathing, let the rise and fall of his chest lull her toward unconsciousness. She snuggled closer, stealing his warmth for herself. His breathing changed as she moved, forcing her more awake. It was soft still, but halting, shuddering.
He was crying.
She lay still, not wanting to cause him more pain, unsure that she could ease any of his suffering. She knew what she wanted every tear to mean, but without being sure of it, she knew she could only make matters worse. Still, her hand curled in the material of his shirt, offering him some sort of comfort.
His hand covered hers, his thumb stroking her skin. She did nothing in response, just let him touch her and reveled in the feeling of it. Lying here in his bed with him touching her was a dream, she was sure.
His thumb slid into her fist, pushing apart her tight grip and forcing her hand to relax. He turned it over, his thumb now tracing pulse points as her blood sped up, chasing through her as if in a race to be touched by him.
His hand was in hers, holding hers, curled around hers. She didn't dare look up at him, afraid to break the magic spell that seemed to shimmer between them. He shifted beneath her, sliding away from her, onto his side. He put distance between them, and she immediately knew why, found hope in the reason.
Then suddenly he was above her, staring down at her with questioning eyes. Loving eyes. "This is probably the worst thing I can do," he whispered, even the quiet sound desperate. "So you need to tell me no, Joey."
She shook her head and placed her hand on his cheek, stroking the damp skin. "I love you, Pacey."
He muttered a muffled groan and lowered himself onto her, his body slipping easily over hers. Her legs parted for him, letting his lower body rest between them, fitting them together as if they'd been made for each other.
His lips were hot and wet from crying, salty on her tongue. Her fingers snaked up into his short hair, curling the thick strands around them, tugging gently to guide the kiss.
She'd shared many kisses with him, different kinds laced with different emotions. But nothing had ever felt like this. Sorrow and regret and love and desperation and need all danced at the tip of his tongue as he explored her mouth, kissing her as if he'd never done it before, but with such skill that there was no doubt. He'd loved her thoroughly in their short time together and he knew her.
But she'd never known him like this.
His lips and tongue moved over her skin past her mouth to the hollow of her neck, intent on tasting every inch of her. He licked and sucked and nibbled as he stripped her of her bra, lavishing her skin with the kind of attention he'd always paid to her. Her nipples were hard, peaked with impatience as he slowly made his way to them, slipping on into the warm cavern of his mouth.
She moaned softly, arching up off the bed as he tormented her, his teeth grazing ever so lightly over the puckered flesh, his tongue dancing over the tip before sucking it firmly. Her nails dug into the mattress struggling to resist the urge to hold him close, knowing that not touching him would allow him to roam free over her body, her flesh.
He moved to the other breast, treating it just as lovingly. She touched his shoulders with shaky fingertips, brushing his skin like feathers afraid to land. He nuzzled her skin, resting his head in the valley between her breasts, his breath coating her flesh with a welcome heat.
They lay there together, her hands finally alighting on his shoulders, rubbing them with small, gentle circles. He turned his head and kissed her skin, carefully and deliberately pulling himself up so that he hovered over her, his strong, muscled arms supporting him above her.
The kisses rained down on her, along each rib traced with lips and tongue, over her stomach, dipping into her bellybutton and forcing a husky giggle from her lips. She could feel his smile against her skin as he continued moving, pulling away from her body.
He sat on his knees before her, staring down at her. She felt alive, aglow with his tender loving. With a smile she knew no one else had ever seen, he grabbed her leg lightly around the ankle and lifted it, resting it against his shoulder. He turned his head and kissed the arch of her foot, holding her firmly as the soft brush of his skin sent shivers along her spine. Then he moved down, kissing her calf, the sweet hollow of her knee, the satin skin of her inner thigh.
Her body arched toward him again as he moved closer to her, moved into her. His lips paused at the top of her thigh, the heady scent of her arousal carried around the room on the soft sea breezes coming through his open window. Something about the smell laced with the salty air brought tears to her eyes and a sob to her lips. He bypassed the thick, musky air and moved to her other thigh, working his way along her shapely leg until he arrived at the other ankle.
She was lying before him, tears sparkling in her eyes, the wan moon painting her body with a silvery glow. He eased her leg back onto the bed and moved forward just slightly. She watched his movements as he reached toward the nightstand, memorizing the lines of him. Muscles that moved under taut skin, dark hair that brushed the sensitized skin of her inner thigh.
He set the condom on the bed beside her leg, then held her gaze as he tugged the tank top over his head. He tossed it aside and sat there silently for a long moment before moving off the bed itself. She was unable to stop the small cry of despair that left her, following him as he put distance between them. He gave her a sad smile as he slipped off his boxers to stand naked before her in the shadowy moonlight.
His movements were slow and deliberate as he walked back to her; watching her, as she watched him, her hands slipping the thin cotton of her panties down her legs. He knelt on the bed at her feet, unwrapping the condom and sliding it down the length of his cock.
She stared at him, fascinated with even the smallest, subtle movement. Her hand reached out, wanting to, needing to touch him. He answered her unspoken request by moving closer, his knees even with hers as he inched up her body.
The tips of her fingers just brushed the tip of his cock as he grasped it and lowered it, brushing the head along her wetness.
She gasped softly, swallowing air as he teased the firm shaft over her swollen clit before sliding it down to her hungry opening.
A heady rush filled the room as he entered her, the heated air charged with completion as he filled her. Her hands rested on his hips, rubbing gentle circles on his skin as he lay there motionless, content for the moment simply to be inside her.
Her breath was warm in his ear, the staggered pace testament to her arousal. The soft shudder broke through, and he started moving, pulling away from her, slipping out until just the tip of his cock penetrated her.
He looked down at her face and fell in love again, as he did every time he saw her. He moved slowly, filling her again, his hips gliding toward hers as she rose up to meet him. Her body clung to his, flesh and muscle constricting around him as he increased their momentum, closing his eyes as she matched his every move.
His eyes closed, it was no long the sweet, loving face below him that he saw. Instead it was the look of hurt and betrayal he'd put there on prom night, it was the relaxed, casual grace she'd shown at the party. Tears stung as he moved within her, the soft sounds of their lovemaking masking his silent admission of truth.
Her hands moved over his back, touching his skin, her short fingernails raking across the broad surface. His groan was shattered as her urging hands sent him deeper.
She shivered in response, her warm body collapsing around him, the wash of her orgasm surrounding him. He continued moving, pushing and pumping, the salty taste of tears on his lips. Her hand reached up to brush them away and his eyes snapped open, somewhat surprised to see that she was crying as well.
He caught his breath as he came, the bittersweet knowledge of the moment rushing through him. They continued moving together a short while longer, finally breaking apart when she closed her eyes and whispered his name.
He nodded and rolled off of her, quickly disposing of the condom before lying back beside her. She turned on her side and smiled at him, her tear-streaked face haunting by moonlight. His hand reached out and brushed her cheek, his thumb stroking the damp skin. She smiled weakly and leaned into him, kissing his lips ever so lightly. "I love you," she whispered.
"I never thought otherwise," he admitted with a soft laugh. "Despite what I might have made you think." He closed his eyes and lowered his head, resting his forehead against hers. "I love you, too."
"I never thought otherwise."
He inhaled slowly, intoxicated with her scent, then pulled away. "Goodnight, Jo."
She snuggled into him, resting her head on his bare chest. "Goodnight, Pacey."
Their eyes were closed, their breathing slow and gentle, yet neither slept. Finally, Joey sighed and rolled off of his chest, sensing the tightening of his muscles. She felt him leave her, slip from beneath the sheets under the cover of darkness to gather his clothes. She didn't watch as he dressed and grabbed the blanket from off the bed, didn't move as he pulled the sheet up to cover her naked body.
She listened to him leave and willed herself not to cry, not to make a sound. She turned over to stare at his closed door, knowing that this was the end, their last moment. Burying her face in his pillow, she surrounded herself with him, closing her eyes and hating the knowledge that it was over.