***
The game wasn’t what I expected. It started off with us kicking a ball around at a nearby park with the smaller soccer fields for younger age groups. We started off a tiny game as a trio, even playing monkey-in-the-middle. By the end, it was like Hunter and I had personal vendettas out on each other and the next goal would decide who would be the ruler of the known universe.
I didn’t get my hat-trick.
I had to roll down the waist of my skirt, so my knees and stride had more room as I kicked, deked, and played my ass off in Chucks. Without my cleats, I slipped and fell a lot, always to have Hunter sling and arm around my waist stopping me from going completely down.
Hunter didn’t play fair. When I got a breakaway, his long legs caught up to me, and he’d hook me around the waist and twirl me until the world went by me in blurs, and all I could hear was my laboured breathing and Matty’s happy laugh.
On a penalty kick since Matty (as the goalie) fouled me, kicking my shin when he missed the ball, Hunter pressed a kiss to the side of my neck, refusing to move from right behind me when I took my mini-kick and I actually scored. I wanted to just graze the far post, keeping Matty’s little-kid dignity intact, but I screwed it up when Hunter distracted me.
Matty had a tantrum, kicking the ball over and over into the net, angry tears spilling down his cheeks. I kept hearing him scream ‘Why am I no good at this, too?’, crying and kicking the stupid ball over and over again.
I stayed back, watching Hunter rub Matty’s back, and finally pull him into a hug as he kneeled down. The little guy just sobbed into his shoulder, and the pain in my throat exploded to past excruciating. I felt like shit.
Walking back to our building, heart heavy and feet dragging, I cussed myself out in the three languages I know. The elevator ride was quiet, Matty’s sniffles the only sound until we binged our way to our floor.
“Sera? You’re still going to read to me, right?”
I nod, wiping the sweat off my forehead with my blouse’s sleeve. “If that’s what you want, Matty. I’ll be over soon, okay?” Hunter nods at me and we go to our respective doors.
I read Matty the first Harry Potter, and I enjoy every one of his reactions. When he found out that the cat was none other than Professor McGonagall, he gasped and sat upright in bed, proclaiming it wasn’t real. I told him that in Harry’s world – it is.
The kid conks out after I hit chapter three, little head resting on my shoulder. I use worm-like movements to wiggle off his bed, nearly tumbling off it when I thought I had more room to go. Guess not.
The rest of the apartment is pitch black when I turn off Matty’s light. Staying still, I see a light in the kitchen – the fridge light. I hurry to it, suddenly afraid of being alone in the dark.
“Why don’t you close Matty’s door, and you can open the lights?” I whisper, gasp when the fridge light is gone and Hunter becomes part of the darkness while my eyes adjust, looking for photons to help us see the way.
I jump when his hand touches mine, and I get a sense of him, standing in front of me. I can smell him, I can feel his heat, inching closer and closer, until his lips are at my ear.
“I need his door open so I can check on him during the night. And I do it to test my vision. I force my eyes to get accustomed to the dark.”
“Oh. Your sugars, right?”
His lips graze my ear lobe, and kiss my cheek. It feels like a lightning strike rocks right through my body and settles between my legs. These kisses are driving me mad. “I forget that you know all this already. I love that I don’t have to explain any of this to you.”
His body heat makes me shiver, and my nipples harden. Well, at least he can’t see. “Are... are you dressed?” I whisper. Say yes! Say no!
“Hmmmm,” he groans in my ear, bringing our bodies closer together. Both hands are now at my waist, finding my ribcage underneath the baggy t-shirt I’m wearing to bed. “Do you want me to be?”
“Holy Tardis of Gallifrey! You better be wearing at least sweats or I will leave this apartment right now!” I try to snarl, but it comes out in a shrill. I don’t know how to play it cool to save my life. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
Hunter laughs, hugging me close, the rumble in his chest hitting my boobs and my tummy. All this is so new to me, this affection, the way you can share a laugh with only one of you actually only doing it.
He’s not wearing a shirt, and a nipple ring is probably three inches from my mouth. Jesus Christ. Hunt guides us to the couch, arranging me so I’m sitting next to him, and arm wrapped around my shoulders. He turns the TV on, so everything has that awful blue glow, but at least it’s light to see with.