A short one this time, with a pretty fair amount of sex; please note, there's anal in this one. If that's not your jam, read until... well, you can figure that out, and then jump to the last couple of paragraphs.
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"This isn't Tex-Mex. This is a war crime."
Emma giggled at my complaint. "It's not that bad."
"It is! I mean, the food's not bad, but it sure as hell isn't Tex-Mex. Neither Texas nor Mexico would claim it, and certainly not both together."
We were, as was often the case, sitting in my hotel room, eating room service after a long day of work. "Often" might not be the right word, though. We'd only been together for a month, but I'd been on crunch for the first three weeks of that, with only Sundays off. Can anything that's only happened for a month be considered "often?"
Regardless, pretty much every weeknight I'd opened the door to my hotel room and found my gorgeous girlfriend lying on the bed with a room service menu in hand or, occasionally, takeout at the ready. We'd gone through most of the offerings from the hotel's dining room, but tonight, I'd finally decided to take the plunge and try their attempt at fajitas. "Attempt" was being generous.
"You've still eaten half the plate." Emma was sitting comfortably in a robe as we ate, as was I. Her hair was still damp, while mine was pretty much nonexistent after having shaved it down again a few days previous. This was another part of our semi-ritual. I'd come in, we'd make out for a little bit as we were deciding what to eat, we'd place the order, and then we'd shower together while we waited. Sometimes we made love under the spray, but almost as often we just cuddled and kissed. It was a blissful way to end the day.
That was the perfect word for the time I spent with Emma. "Blissful." It was easy to chalk that up to it being our honeymoon period, but that wasn't all of it. We were, for all intents and purposes, living together. Even in that small space-- no bigger than a studio apartment-- we never got on each other's nerves. On the weekends, we got out and spent our time either touring the city or hanging out with her friends.
We both had stressful days here and there, but that stress was always reduced when we were in each other's presence. There were worries about our relationship from time to time-- mostly about its rapidly approaching expiration date-- but we never fought, or even really argued; instead, we discussed our fears and comforted each other. I had never felt as content in my life as I was with Emma.
"I'm hungry! And it's not bad, like I said, just... wrong. The spices are wrong. The onions are underdone. The guacamole is--" A napkin landed on my head; I pulled it off to see Emma had leaned forward slightly with a smirk on her face. Her robe had fallen away just a bit, hinting at the lovely body underneath.
"Are you done? Because I don't know about you, but I'm not here for the cuisine. The food's just a way to keep my strength up."
"... You know, that's a good point."
Her eyes sparkled. "Mmm, smart man. Now eat up; I want to ask you something while you finish."
"A good something?"
Emma's smile was real, but also maybe a bit melancholy. "I think so. Or at least an interesting one." I took a bite and chewed as she spoke. "We've talked before about the things we have and haven't done in bed, the stuff we like, the stuff we want to do, all of that, yeah? Well, it's about that."
"Mmrf?"
She laughed, "Don't speak with your mouth full, you savage. It's about..." Emma looked down for a moment. "It's about what we haven't done. Either of us. I want to... when... if this is over, if that happens, I know that I'll always remember it. You. Us." She shook her head. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah. I could never forget being with you, Emma. But we still have another month to figure out--"
"I know, I know. We do. And..." Another dazzling smile. "I love you. I hope we can make it work. I know we said we weren't going to talk about this more until... well, until closer to the end, til you're supposed to leave, but I just want to say it now: I want this to be... more. More than just two months."
I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding. "Thank God." She smiled again as I reached out to touch her face, my palm caressing her cheek. "Thank God, Emma. That's what I want, too. I just didn't... Like you said, we'd agreed to focus on now. But I want that, too."
Her hand grabbed mine as she pressed her face into it. "Good." A sillier, happier smile then, a broad grin like a kid that had gotten exactly the present she wanted on Christmas. "Yay!" Emma kissed my hand and took it from her cheek, holding it in both of hers. "But... Look, as much as we both want it, it may not happen.
"You have a life in Dallas-- even if you say it's not much of one, you do-- and I have one here, and there's all the logistics that might get in the way, too: jobs, immigration, families, all of that stuff. If... If we can't figure out a way past that, I still want to have something that's memorable for us. Something that we give each other. A first, for both of us."
I raised an eyebrow. "Like... what? A tattoo?"
"Hah! No, nothing that extreme. Although..." She looked up and to the side. "Maybe?" Back to my face, a playful smile on hers. "No, I suppose not. There's something I've wanted to try, but I never found the right guy to try it with."
Her finger traced patterns on my hand as she looked down at it. "Someone who's sweet and loving. Who can be tender or firm, depending on what I want from him. Who cares about what I want more than what he wants from me. Who loves me fearlessly." Her eyes drifted back up to mine. "Who fucks me senseless and makes love to me like I'm the only woman in the world."
