peace_inthe_violence

That definitely wasn't a realization that had sunk in yet, and might not for a good long while.

She couldn't help the smile that emerged at that conclusion, just nodding, "Yeah, the phone poll he did of neighboring districts and parents in our district was..." She shook her head then, "It was the kind of leading questions that people didn't realize were leading. He got the results he needed though, which was the idea. Some of the faculty fell for it too, which was just icing on the whole thing."

Her voice dipped a little, not exactly an impersonation of her brother, but definitely quoting: "Ma'am, are you aware the dress code at this school hasn't been updated since 1972, and that the update was only to include a stipulation on hair length on male students?" The smile that emerged was warm, "Faculty learned real fast not to tell a Freeman 'that's just the way things are'. It's never true, it's just the way things have been."

There was a difference between having the energy to do something external and have the energy for self-care. It was a subtle difference, but one that Nicky was well acquainted with. He could always find the energy to make dinner for the house or make sure Joe had space to work on a new canvas, but the same could not always be said for finding time for himself. It was a battle he was slowly starting to win, and the least he could do was offer to make her battle a little less uncomfortable.

He smiled, dipping his head in a small nod. "I do. Whenever you have time, feel free to come get me. Most of dinner for tonight is going to be letting this simmer for as long as I can keep Andy out of it. There will be time."

She nodded, "Alright. I'm going to check on the volunteer, see if I can tell what it is yet, make sure the ferals haven't left any more presents, and I'll be in. Half hour, maybe."

It was closer to 45 minutes, because she'd found that the volunteer plant was, in fact, a pumpkin, and had one fruit on it, which meant she'd had to find a couple of stakes and some bed-liner fabric to make a hammock for it so that it wasn't resting all of its growing weight on the dirt right away.

Even once she'd washed her hands in the kitchen sink, she hesitated before asking: "Anything I can do to help?"

In 45 minutes, Nicky had blanched and peeled the tomatoes, piling the peels up in the coffee filter from that morning so the whole thing could go out to the compost heap. He'd roughly chopped the tomatoes and had them and just enough water to keep them from scorching in a stock pot on the back burner of the stove. The beans and herbs were in a collider in the sink and he was in the middle of ripping up a bunch of basil and adding it to the pot when she came back in.

"I just finished getting everything in to stew, but you can take that out to the compost pile if you want." He nodded towards the coffee and the tomato peels, then set to work stripping a couple twigs of rosemary. By the time she got back, he was washing the board and his knife to be put on the drain board.

"Thank you, sorellina. Do you want to do this here or upstairs? I'm alright with either." Some people didn't like sharing something as intimate as doing their hair. It was a valid question. "Whichever way you decide, I'll need your comb and your leave-in since I'm assuming you don't want a full wash day."

She nodded, gathering the pile for the compost heap, unsurprised to find that Buckshot had returned even in the brief absence, stalking a wall-lizard that was clinging to one of the planters. Her only warning to the cat was: "You'll regret that." Before heading back inside.

"Definitely not a full-wash kind of day." She replied, "And here's fine." Mostly because her mom had always done her braids at the kitchen table, and she figured that edge of familiarity in the unfamiliar might help her relax a little, "I'll be right back." She was still thankful that Andy had managed to keep her duffel even with having to switch cars before making it to the plane that had brought them here in the first place, because it meant that she still had her own kit and hadn't had to try and find replacements yet.

She dropped into a chair, sliding the jar labeled 'hair butter' in sharpie -the original label having peeled off at some point- and the comb over, "Let's see what you can do."

While she'd been upstairs, Nicky had finished wiping down the counters and had thoroughly washed his hands. He was still drying them off when she came back, and he looped the towel through one of his belt loops so that it would be handy for later.

"Do you have an idea of what you want? It has been a long while since I've done anything overly complicated, but I'm willing to try if you're willing to be patient with me."

As he spoke, he was untying the scarf and unwrapping it, taking great care not to let any wayward curls snag in the fabric. Once her hair was free, he let her scalp relax for a moment while he set the scarf on the table and unscrewed the top of that jar. He dipped his forefinger into it, then rubbed it against his thumb, testing it's thickness with a satisfied nod. He scooped up a decent amount, smoothing it over both palms before he started to work it into her curls with his fingers first so that he didn't snag too much.

"Patient I can do." She replied, "But simple's fine, just something to keep it out of my face for a couple days." Her brow creased a little, "I usually go one on each side instead of one down the middle, makes sleeping on it easier."

She was a little surprised, even still, to find that he did -apparently- know what he was doing, because if she'd been about to say anything else, it didn't happen once his fingers were in her hair, just making a garbled little noise like a kitten picked up by the scruff of the neck.

He hummed a little in response to her words, unwilling to ask who in their right mind thought it would be comfortable to sleep with one big braid down the middle. With hair as thick as hers, she wouldn't be able to sleep any way other than on her side.

While he was perfectly happy with that, he also had someone behind him to lean against when he needed to shift his weight.

He worked the hair butter through her curls, smiling a little at her small, contented sound. Good. He'd hoped that she would enjoy this. He worked slowly and carefully, fingers obviously learning her particular hair as he worked. Joe's hair wasn't quite as tightly curled, after all. Nor was it as long, anymore.

Eventually he reached out to grab her comb, using the edge to make a straight part and working her hair into two bundles. By that point he was more confident and he started humming softly as he nimbly wove her hair into two braids. But not just a simple braid, either. No, he kept the braids tight to her scalp and followed the edge of her hairline so that it would be mostly flat and perfectly comfortable to sleep in.

And when it did sink in they would be there for her. Booker would do everything he could to keep her from making his mistake. He wouldn't wish that pain on anyone even his worst enemy.

The point, though, was to let her talk. He didn't quite understand the important of updating a dress code but that didn't matter. It was matter to her brother and he had kept going until he won. Nile was proud, as well. The story mattered to her.

"What we do doesn't always feel like changing the world but we help. If you see something you want to get involved in you can bring it to the group. It's rare we've said no to each other." Booker couldn't remember a time when they had.

Nicky always let him indulge. There had been times when they were frantic and rushed but Booker always preferred to go slow and savor sex. It felt good and Booker spent a lot of time not feeling good. He wanted to take pleasure and enjoyment when he could for as long as possible.

He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Nicky's neck. This time Booker left a mark. He bit down and sucked the spot he'd chosen until the bruise was there. It lingered for a half second before it healed away.

Then he pressed his mouth to Nicky's and kissed him slow and deep, almost lazily making out with him.

Scratches, bites, Booker didn't mind them. His partner's enjoyment was his favorite part and if she showed him through clawing his back that was good. He liked linger red scratches or hickies. They only lasted seconds but they mattered while they did.

He went back to Occitan, his native tongue, with the occasional word of French slipping in here and there. Booker told her how beautiful she was, how good she felt clenching around him, and how much he missed this. Missed her.

At that bite he slid his hand lower and pressed his fingers against her clit. He circled slowly to add long drags of pleasure along with his cock thrusting into her.

There was a time and a place for quick, hard sex and Nicky enjoyed it, but it wasn't how he preferred it. Nine hundred years had given him an appreciation of patience and the slow burn of prolonged promise. He and Joe could make themselves last all day. Slow, lazy make outs on the couch. Little touches in the most innocent of places, packed with promise and hidden intent. A word murmured against an ear or the back of the neck, fingertips stealing a covert touch of bare skin.

If Booker wanted to make out and indulge, Nicky certainly wasn't going to stop him. In fact, he encouraged him, humming softly against the other man's lips as he threaded the fingers not on Booker's cock through his hair.

"I can take a picture for you, but you have to wait until I can move." He kept himself from jerking his hand when that wadded up shirt went flying by his head, but it was a close thing and he lightly gripped Booker's hair to give him a little shake.

"I'm supposed to be still, not fending off a battle between you two." But he was smiling and his gentle grip smoothed out to more pets. His gaze returned to his husband's work on his hand...and his expression softened to the point that one could almost call it sappy as he recognized the pattern emerging on his skin.

"Habibi, it's beautiful." He pressed a careful kiss to Joe's shoulder, then laid his cheek against his arm so he could watch him work. "And I don't know what they want to put on you, but I know what I want to do. So, it looks like you'll have two people drawing on you.

"I promise to do my best to not make it look like an ink spill."

She let out a little sound like a hum as he pressed his hands to her, and Andy pushed up against him, intending to give as good as she got--after this they could take it slow. After some relief from the whirlwind pleasure kicking through her. She was only wordless for a few moments at the way his fingers circled her clit before she picked up the Occitan from him, rubbing and teasing while they fucked.

This wasn't lovemaking, it was fucking. But it felt so good; Andy hadn't known how much she'd missed him being with her until now he was again, and everything felt knocked back into place like a dislocated joint healing. She dipped her head to capture him in kisses again, one after the other only broken by soft words of encouragement as they found each other's rhythm.

Booker rested his forehead against her shoulder and kissed her skin again and again. He dragged his teeth and bit down to leave a mark that faded away as soon as he moved on to another spot.

"Close," he warned her with a breathless gasp.

He fucked her harder, his thumb pressed firmly against her clit to push her over the edge with him. The other downside with fast and hard was that it was over too soon. Not that they'd be done with just one go at each other but it is a headlong rush to the finish now. Booker will have to admire her and worship her later.

The hot sun beating down on his shoulders, Nicky's fingers in his hair, and their mouths moving against each other put Booker in the closest he'd ever get to heaven. He felt blessed that Nicky wanted him after all this time.

He drew back a little to catch his breath, licking the taste of Nicky's mouth from his lips. "When I can bring myself to stop kissing you I'm going to suck your cock."

It was only fair to warn Nicky of his intentions. It would mean hauling him out of the water and back to the lounge chair he abandoned.

"You are, are you?" His voice was a little lower, accent a little thicker. There was desire there, laced into each word but not dripping with it. Not yet. He smirked a little with the intentional mimicry of his own words from earlier, then leaned up to start up another slow, meandering kiss that had absolutely no hurry or urgency.

When it ended, he licked his own taste off Booker's lips and laid back against the concrete steps.

"Then I guess I'll have to be patient until you can stop kissing me, bello."

Booker groaned into he kiss meeting it with equal lazy enjoyment. Nicky's mouth was wicked and brilliant when he took the time to really kiss. All those years of Joe who adored kissing made Nicky just unbelievably good at it. Booker was helpless.

"If you keep kissing me like that it will be a long time." Booker's mouth felt a little sore from all the kissing but the good sort of sore that only served as a reminder of the earlier kiss.

He nibbled at Nicky's jaw to his ear and nipped at his ear lobe. "But that's what you like."

The only sound other than Booker's voice was Andy's soft panting, and the sounds of the cushion beneath them shifting with their motions. She squirmed at the insistent press of his hand and her hips jerked, arms wrapped tight around Booker's shoulders as she tripped over the peak before she even knew she'd gotten there, words tangled with each other when she tried to warn him.

He got a broken whine out of Andy as her muscles tensed and trembled, shoving her hips against his, desperate for more of something she couldn't describe.

It wasn't long before Joe emerged from the house, a glass in hand, making sure that he wasn't sneaking up on her while she worked, they all knew that would only end in tears, and not just metaphorical ones, either.

He handed the glass over with an explanation of: "Rosemary lemonade. Nile's been making herbal syrups so that the herbs don't just run rampant, figured you could use the hydration out here."

Booker enjoyed the tight clench and release of her body for as long as he could before he pulled out and stroked himself to release. He moaned loudly, probably loud enough that everyone in the house would know what they were up to but it felt so damn good he couldn't help himself.

They'd have to clean up the chair and her hip but Booker wasn't worried about that in the moment. His world was simply static in his brain and white hot pleasure. Goddamn, it was so good.

He dropped his weight on top of her while he caught his breath, knowing she wouldn't mind. Booker also needed to cuddle after sex with someone he trusted. With a stranger he'd be trying to leave already but not with her. He curled closer instead knowing she'd wrap her arms around him and hold him. God, he loved her.

Nile, for her part, could sleep anywhere, just as long as the surface was somewhere between 'slight incline' and 'fully horizontal' and not made entirely of wasps or something like it. But that just came part and parcel with being a Marine, or so she'd come to believe, so the braid placement didn't really matter, but she was used to sleeping on her back and had every intention of doing so again when she was getting more than a couple hours of sleep at a time.

It was entirely possible that she could doze off right then and there, and the only reason she wasn't was in case he had any other questions, though the silence was one that spoke of experience and practice more than anything, and she appreciated it, murmuring a quiet: "Thanks for this." Even before he'd finished.

The fire made more noise in this setup than Andy had thought, and its dull roar muffled many of the thoughts clashing around in her head when she had any downtime. Usually doing something with her hands calmed the feeling that something was creeping up on her, but this time it was only Joe.

With lemonade, no less. She smiled at him and stepped away from the gravel pad that had been put in so nothing unintentionally caught fire, snagging a tiny bundle from off the table. "Thanks, Joe." Andy brushed her fingers over his when she took the glass; they didn't need very many words, because the love beween them like the others ran deep, and though different had never wavered. "I have something for you, and for Nicky if he's good."

Andy could not have cared less if everyone on the island knew they were fucking, because Booker was theirs and he'd finally realized that again. She would always, always accept that, and for a long moment as both their bodies relaxed and cooled Andy just brushed her hand over his back, nuzzling his shoulder with quiet, reassuring words in Occitan. She loved the way the language sounded out of Booker's mouth.

"Mmmm. You're perfect," she murmured in his ear, her free hand coming up and combing through the ends of his hair. "Love you, Booker," she whispered, words just between them once they'd both recovered enough to actually manage making sense.

Nicky was not 'unbelievably' good at kissing. That was Joe's department. Nicky had picked up the skill in self-preservation. He just had a lot of practice.

He groaned a little as Booker nipped and nibbled his way over his skin, both hands coming up now to slide across Booker's sun warmed skin. And if the drips of water from his fingers was chilled in comparison to Booker's skin....well, he did enjoy a good reaction.

"You know what else I like, Sebastien?

You."

Malta

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