A Slow Burn

**All characters and events depicted are purely fictional, and all written characters involved are over the age of 18**

*I will be posting part III very soon; Stay tuned for it, it will contain more explicit scenes and content.*

Hope you enjoy:)

t w o

She woke up to the sun the next morning, the right side of the bed already cold from his absence. The house was chilly, quiet, but calm.

She slunk herself out of bed, throwing on a t shirt, underwear and socks, and made her way to the kitchen. A pot of coffee sat on the warmer in the corner, a mug laid out next to a yellow note and a single tulip:

Sinead

i'm working late tonight, but i've got a

surprise for you tonight ;)

happy anniversary

love, vince

She traced the edge of the paper, smiling to herself. She had hardly even remembered; to her, it had not felt like two years had passed already. She slipped the note, along with a lighter, into the front band of her underwear, and poured herself a large cup of the coffee. She sauntered to the back door, picking up a cigarette from the pack on the coffee table, and pinched it between her teeth as she walked outside.

On the back deck, she eased onto a cushioned bench, lit the cigarette, and squinted at the sun through the trees. Fog rose from the wet grass in their yard, like ghosts of seeds dancing up to be free, and she smiled at this thought.

Sinead didn't have a typical job, and she liked it that way. She was self-employed in a way, selling pottery and abstract commissions here and there, but Vi brought in enough income for the both of them. Vi's boss, Jake Sigel, had offered Sinead a position in a different department at the office, but she had politely declined.

It wasn't that she hated working; in fact, she preferred to keep busy. Vi had made it a point early on in their relationship that if she was okay with it, he would make it possible for her to be home as much as possible. Splitting up the responsibilities this way had just worked out well for the both of them, and Sinead had been able to really hone in on her art for the past year and a half. It was something she had almost always dreamed of, and Vi had made it attainable.

Sinead took a sip from her mug, and ashed her cigarette. She leaned her head backwards to rest on the handrail of their porch, eyeing the clouds above her. A nearby crow perched on an impossibly skinny branch, cawed once, and then leapt into the air and floated out of sight. Sinead tapped her ring against her mug, thinking what Vi could have planned for their anniversary.

Vi Euling and Sinead Harttmen were not married, but neither of them were really in a rush to make it so official. They had met in school, her in a journalist class, and him a teacher's assistant. He had quickly taken a peculiar interest in her. She was shorter than average--hardly above five feet--thin and fairskinned. Her hair was almost black, glinting hints of deep greens when he saw her around the campus, and her bangs almost never sat perfectly on her forehead. Even her nose sat awkwardly on her small face, the bridge sloping out and down from her side profile; her eyes sunken and hooded, and her lips pale. As quirky as she looked, she was never shy or subdued in any way. She sat at the front of the class, engaged with the professor, and almost never passed up an opportunity to ask a question. When the semester had let out, she was the one to approach him.

Sinead had taken notice of him, as well. Quietly observing classes from his seat, eyes shifting nearly always, but always landing on her. She wondered why he never said hello. Over the course of that journalism class, they had probably spent over two hours stealing glances from each other. It did not make sense to her to just leave it at that, so on the last day of class, she marched up to him, six foot one, and extended a slip of yellow paper with her phone number on it.

Vi had stumbled out an awkward hello, his shock catching his words high up in his throat. Sinead had simply smiled, said she would like to hear from him, and walked out.

It took him three weeks into holiday break to muster up the courage to call her, and four months after that, he bought her the silver band she wore on her left hand. It wasn't an engagement ring, but it was as close as they could get. Vi scored a job at a publishing company just nearly before their first anniversary, and with savings his father had promised him, they moved in together 15 months after their first date.

Today marked two years, and as Sinead reached the bottom of her coffee cup, she pondered the curiosity of that. Here, sitting on their back deck, is not where she imagined herself at 27 years old.

When she finished her cigarette, Sinead arose and made her way back inside, half sliding in her socks to her studio, if she could even call it that. The house they had moved into just nine months ago had a bonus room above the garage, and with Vi's permission, Sin had ripped up the old shaggy carpet to convert the space into an art studio. She had a small potters wheel, an electric kiln down in the garage that she had bought for herself after her first big sale, and the room had enough space to allow for adequate storage, whether it was big in progress canvases or rows of cups or bowls waiting to be trimmed.

Sinead climbed the steps to the studio, ready to get to work, but her heart sank when she turned to see her sculpture in pieces on the floor. "God dammit," she cursed at herself for forgetting to check on it after Vi and her had finished up the night before. It wasn't like her to neglect those vital parts of the process; if she had just came in and re-wet it she could have saved herself hours of work. As she swept the floor, she found herself pinching her eyebrows with anger thinking about Vince, how he had ignored her requests to get some studio time when she needed it the most. For the rest of the afternoon, Sinead carefully rebuilt the woman's head and upper neck, tediously running wire supports down to the shoulders. The whole time she argued with herself whether or not her anger was really warranted at her partner, or if she should just let it go; after all, it was their anniversary, and his work schedule had really been getting in between their time together.

When Sinead finally looked up from her work, she glanced at the clock; it was somehow already four; Vi would be home soon. Quickly, she wrapped her piece with plastic, and hurried downstairs to wash up.

....................

"Did you get my note?" Vi walked in through the far side of the kitchen, smiling at her, setting his keys and wallet down on the counter. Behind him, near the door, sat a black and gold gift bag with white tissue paper angling sharply from the opening. Sinead smiled, blinking softly. "I did, indeed. Happy anniversary."

Vi made his way over to her, slowly, his heart fluttering. He had been waiting almost all week for today, had spent quite a bit of time and thought into how he wanted tonight to go with her. As he walked to her, his eyes danced along her legs and bare skin that he could see. Her breasts hung softly behind her t-shirt, her nipples pressed against the cotton ever so slightly. He bit the inside of his cheek, and glanced at her thighs. He couldn't see up to her panties, but his body got warm as he imagined it.

Sinead leaned into his touch, his rough hand sliding up the outside of her thigh as he leaned in to kiss her. "I've been waiting for today, Sinead, but you gotta close your eyes." He pulled his lips away, but hovered for a moment, running his hand towards the inside of her legs towards her underwear. Her breath hitched, but released as he pulled back and walked to the front to retrieve the gift bag.

"What'd I say?" He peered over his shoulder after picking it up, still facing away. Sinead chuckled, crossed her legs, and pulled her hands up over her eyes.

She imagined what it could be. She always hoped for gifts with something handmade or personalized, but knew Vi always left that "kind of thing" up to the artists. Still, with her eyes squeezed shut, she gripped the idea that maybe he had done it this time.

She heard rustling of tissue paper, the plastic click of a price tag being pulled off of something, and finally, "Okay, you can open them." Vi stood proudly in front of her, holding up a black lace lingerie set.

Sinead felt her face get hot, a little embarrassed, and hoped she hadn't let her smile drop. "Oh, Vince," she started.

"I know, I know, it's not much, I want to take you out to dinner too." His cheeks pressed up from a smile, and blushing, he asked her to try it on.

Sinead obliged, taking the lacy garment with her to the bedroom, and closed the door behind her. She slid out of her underwear, and pulled off her t-shirt, but paused. She had never been a hyper-sexual person, and this side of Vi had been fairly new to her, only really blossoming after they moved in together. She had never pictured him as the type to take charge in the bedroom, or even really be motivated all that much by sex. She had tried to roll with it, more or less, but often found herself playing catchup with his wants. Tonight, though, he deserved it, and so did she.

So, Sinead spent a moment trying to decipher the maze of thin straps and holes in the garment until it looked okay, and then stood at the foot of the bed, facing the door. "Okay," she called out, and tussled her hair up a bit as Vi cracked the door open. As he stepped in, her heart pounded, and she could feel his eyes devouring every inch of her privates.

Vi bit his lip. His crotch twitched and pressed against his dark-colored jeans. She was stunning, and he had always enjoyed just looking at her. Her skin smooth and pale, her curves tempting. Sinead blushed and watched the floor as he walked up, hesitant to touch her as if she was a statue of great worth. As he got closer, he started unbuttoning his shirt, and when it was open, he pulled her hands against his chest. It was warm, and as she touched him, his skin seemed to jump with bolts of lightning; he wanted so badly to see her look up at him. His pants grew tighter around his hardness, begging to be released. He leaned in, pressing himself against her upper thigh.

Sinead leaned into him further, tracing her hands down his skin towards his belt as he rested his lips on her head. "I want to take you," he whispered, and she did not know much how to respond. As she began to unbuckle his belt, her hands fumbling slightly, he reached around her waist and used both his hands to grab her ass and squeeze hard. She squealed slightly, but continued her job until she could see his member outlined under his boxers. It was looking up at her, her down at it. Her consciousness twitched, as if she was watching a scene in a movie, until Vi pressed her shoulders down.

The knot in her shoulder ached, reminding her of the work she had put in today in her studio. As she squatted to her knees, she inhaled deeply and held her breath, and Vincent's hand slid under her chin. She looked up, locking eyes with him, his lips rolled in, and she could see his heart beating quickly in his neck. For a moment, she imagined what he was seeing, but coiled at the thought. Her dumb little face, so far down, weak, quiet.

As she slid her hands up his legs and slipped them under his boxers, her mind switched off. She became observant, deliberate, and was here to complete a duty. She could feel her vulva swell as she touched him, his dick hard, warm, throbbing under her touch. He threw his head back as she grabbed a hold of him, moving her hands in ways that she knew he liked. It didn't take long until he had had enough looking, pulled her up quickly by her arm, and laid her on the bed. She lay on her back, most of her awareness at the ceiling, the other on the warmth in her stomach. He leaned over her, kissing her once, or maybe twice. She couldn't really remember. He slid her lengerae to the side, and forced his finger inside, pushing up towards her belly. She gasped, and Vi felt like he was melting. He could feel himself dripping already onto the sheets, but he pressed forward. As he slid his second finger inside, a moan escaped her lips. And again, with each press inside, Vi could not believe one person could have such an impact on him. He watched her every move; how she breathed, how her eyes rolled back, how her mouth hung open, and how her body twisted. He could smell her sweetness on his hand, and before flipping her over, he lifted his hand to her mouth. She opened, sucked herself off of his skin, and rolled to her left.

Before even a moment, Vi raised his hand and rolled a smack against her left ass cheek. Sinead pushed her mouth into the mattress, gasping, and bit the pillow hard as he landed another on her right side. Swiftly, he pulled the lingerie off of the rest of her body, positioned himself above her, and slipped himself inside. She felt hollow now, the excitement and tension all dissipated into this moment, and it was nothing but underwhelming. Alas, she groaned until he finished, thrusting hard and loudly, and then he collapsed onto the bed next to her and smiled widely. Without another word, he rose, walked to the bathroom, and got in the shower.

Sinead lay still, unmoving until he was done, her eyes dry, glazed and frozen on the bed as she felt his mess drip from her onto the bed. She didn't even blink.

Not even once.

**All characters and events depicted are purely fictional, and all written characters involved are over the age of 18**