Fight

"You're being childish," Mike said to Weslie, as he had many times before. He'd always said it in jest, as part of their usual playful banter, not in the middle of a serious argument like this. Then again, in the tree months since they had started living together, they hadn't had an argument this serious. Maybe she had been a bit stubborn, but he really didn't have to call her childish. Not now. Weslie felt the blood rushing to her face, her temper rising to the surface.

"Fuck you," she spat back before turning her back to him and stomping toward the door. Mike froze, taken aback by her uncharacteristic vulgarity; Wes was too much of a language snob to use those words often. He went after her, catching her arm just before she could walk out. He took one more step forward and pushed the door closed. She pulled her arm free of his grasp, then spun around and stared at him, her eyes narrow slits of anger. He looked down at her, his face a mixture of hurt, confusion, and disapproval.

"If you would just think about this logically," he said. His calm made her all the more furious. She didn't wait for him to finish his sentence before she attempted to push past him. He didn't budge. She glared at him in frustration and tried again. This time she placed her hand on his chest and tried to shove him out of the way. In one swift move, he grabbed her hand, stepped forward, and pinned her wrist against the wall. Wes tried to peel Mike's fingers off of her with her free hand, but Mike quickly took hold of her other wrist. The fact that he could hold her like this, with just one of his hands, made her wet. More than that, it made her angrier.

She felt her heart race; her anger swelled as she struggled to get away. Mike wasn't hurting her, but he was making his strength felt. He pressed the lean mass of his body against hers, looking down into her dark eyes as if trying to will her into surrender. He was so close that she could feel his racing heartbeat. She held his gaze, her body straining to pounce on him. He ignored her obvious anger. He caressed her face, in a way he must have thought soothing. He leaned in for a kiss. Just as his lips connected with hers, Wes opened her mouth and bit down as hard as she could. Mike jumped back, bringing his hand to his lower lip.

"Ouch! What's wrong with you?" he asked. He looked at the drop of blood on his finger, reluctant to believe what he saw.

Mike was still too close to the door for her to try to leave the apartment, but Wes did seize the opportunity to rush past him and lock herself in the bedroom. It took less than thirty seconds before Mike started banging on the door.

"Open the damn door!" he yelled.

"Go away!" Wes shouted back.

"Let's talk about—" His voice was breaking up.

"I have nothing to say."

There was silence, and then a slamming door. Wes opened the bedroom door just enough to poke her head out. He was gone. Wes headed to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. She gulped it down. She poured another glass and chugged it too. Then she poured a third and returned to the bedroom, taking the bottle with her. She let herself slump down on the bed with a heavy sigh.

She wanted to cry, but it just wasn't the sort of thing she did. She wished she had told him that she was scared to death of how much his happiness seemed to depend on her. She knew she loved him, but what is that wasn't enough? What if she couldn't love him as much as he adored her? She wanted to tell him that she was afraid she would lose herself and become nothing more than his other half. Or how frightening it was to her that Mike had no doubt they would have a "happily ever after".

Instead, when Mike had asked her, yet again, what she was thinking, she had snapped. She had asserted her right to her own private thoughts and mocked his desire to share the core of their beings. She had called it silly romanticism and foolish optimism. Then she'd shut down. Wes had warned Mike during their long online relationship that she had a habit of keeping her feelings bottled up inside, of letting them fester until they rotted everything. She sighed again and emptied her glass before settling into bed, her face buried in the pillow.

Damn, it still smells like him

, she thought as she pulled the covers over her head.

***

Mike walked through the streets with no particular destination. Sometimes he just could not understand his beloved. All he wanted was to know what made her tick, what made her happy, and what occupied her thoughts. He loved her more than anything, so wasn't it natural that he'd show interest in her? Yet every time he tried to find out what was going on behind those gorgeous brown eyes of hers, she would shut him out. He would either be met with her silence, or like today, with venomous words. He had thought that once he moved in with her, things would be perfect, everything he'd dreamed of. Now he felt further from her than ever.

He thought back to the day he and Wes had been reunited. She had gone out of her way to show him that she had missed him. She had planned a romantic weekend for them to feast on each other. Well, those were his words; Wes always laughed when he put it that way. Yet, feast he did. Wes was the first woman he had ever tasted, and he had been addicted to her sweet nectar ever since. He could stay between her legs forever. He licked his lips at the thought.

Mike knew she was the woman he wanted to marry. He could picture children with a blend of their features, and he could not imagine ever making love to another woman. Wes had been his first, and he intended for her to be his only. He looked at his watch; he'd been out for over an hour. Perhaps Wes had cooled off by now, and they could talk about their issues.

She's worth it

, he thought before turning back in the direction of the apartment.

***

At the apartment, Wes tossed and turned under the covers. She heard a faint salsa tune through her wine-induced fog. Ugh. She would

have

to change her stupid ringtone one of these days. She thought of ignoring it, but the sound of it was too irritating.

"Yes?" she groaned into the receiver.

"May I speak with Weslie LaPlume, please?"

"Speaking."

"Ms. LaPlume, this is Dr. Parsons from Saint Ignatius Regional Hospital. You are listed as Michael Weiss's next of kin, and I would like you to come down here if that's possible."

"Wait, what? Why? What's wrong with him?"

"Ms. Laplume, I would prefer to speak to you face to face."

"Be right there," Wes managed to get out before she flipped the phone closed.

***

Wes rushed into the lobby of St. Ignatius. In her haste to get to the reception desk, she almost knocked over an old man wearing a hospital gown, and sitting in a wheelchair.

"Sorry, Sir."

"Dash OK, doll," the man slurred, "I gots shome purrty red shoes for your footshies."

Wes shook her head. The poor man was obviously demented or drugged. Wes rushed over to the reception desk.

"Excuse me," she said, "I'm Weslie LaPlume. I'm looking for Dr. Parsons."

The homely brunette behind the desk put down the romance novel she was reading, rolled her eyes, and looked up at Weslie.

"Dr. Parsons," Wes asked again. "Where is he? He called about Michael Weiss."

The woman flipped through a stack of papers with her chubby fingers. She picked up the receiver and paged Dr. Parsons to the front desk. She picked up her book and started reading again, as if Weslie were no longer there.

A few moments later, a silver-haired man walked up to Wes and introduced himself. Dr. Parsons had a handsome, angular face, and the fine lines around his eyes only added to his charm. Under different circumstances, Wes would have been tempted to imagine what lay beneath the lab coat and well-cut suit. She noticed that he glanced at her feet a few times as he spoke. By the third time, Wes followed his gaze and understood what Dr. Parsons had been too polite to point out: In her haste to get out of the house and into a taxi, Wes had forgotten to put her shoes on. So, the old man at the front hadn't been

completely

delusional after all. Well, that wasn't important now.

As he led Wes through the halls, Dr. Parsons explained that Mike had been crossing the street when an absent-minded driver hit him.

"Mr. Weiss was lucky. He suffered a few cuts and bruises, and a cracked mandible."

Weslie nodded. Dr. Parsons stopped as they reached a room which two officers were exiting. One was a hairy, stocky man who seemed quite bored, and the other was a statuesque redhead whose breasts threatened to burst out of the blue uniform.

"This is Ms. LaPlume," the doctor said, "She's Mr. Weiss's...?"

"Girlfriend," Weslie finished.

The shapely officer stepped forward.

"Ms. LaPlume, the driver of the vehicle admitted fault, and he has insurance. So it looks like you won't have to worry about medical bills."

Wes glared at the buxom redhead. Who on earth would think about money at a time like this?

"I don't care." She turned to the doctor. "Can I see him now?"

"Go on in. He's probably sleeping though. We gave him something for the pain. We'll be keeping him overnight"

Wes entered the room. Mike lay there on the bed, his eyes closed, and his breathing labored. His lower lip was split, right where she had bit him earlier. An ugly indigo bruise marred his tan skin below his right eyes, and there was a red, swollen bump on his jaw. Wes felt as if her heart were being squeezed by an iron vise. It hurt to see him like this, but she didn't cry. Instead she sat next to the bed, and watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, worry etched on her face. She brushed the hair off of his forehead, only to find a large bandage there. She sighed.

"Like, you gotta go." Wes looked up to see young blonde, wearing scrubs, carrying a small basin and a sponge. "I got a whole bunch more to do," the woman added, holding up the sponge.

Both of Wes's parents had been in the nursing field when she was growing up, so the young woman's lack of manners irritated her.

"Kelly," Wes replied after squinting to see the woman's nametag, "I'm not leaving."

Kelly rolled her eyes and slammed the basin down on the bedside table.

"Whatever, do it yourself then," she said before turning on her heels and leaving.

Wes resisted the urge to throw the basin at the girl's swinging ponytail. A few moments later, the Charge Nurse walked into the room.

"Excuse me Ma'am; I just received a complaint from one of my staff members. I'd like to know what happened."

"Well," Wes answered, "my boyfriend's in a hospital bed, the last things I said to him were beyond ugly, and then the nursing assistant came in and tried to kick me out. I'm sorry if I upset her, but she was just rude."

The nurse put her hand on Wes's shoulder.

"I'm sorry about your boyfriend. I'm sure he'll be fine. And I'll take care of Kelly. I keep telling the girl to mind her bedside manner." She walked to the door and stopped before exiting the room. "Oh and there's an extra blanket in the closet." She winked at Wes and closed the door behind her.

Weslie walked around the bed to the bedside table where the girls had left the basin. She picked up the basin and went to the small bathroom to fill it with warm water from the sink. When she returned, she placed it on the table again and lowered the sheet covering Mike. She reached for the sponge and soaked it in the warm water. She lifted the hospital gown and bathed him, starting at his collarbone. She swept the sponge across his chest, around his nipples, and down the hard plane of his stomach. She wet the sponge again, before turning her attention to his penis.

She wrapped the fingers of her left hand gently around the tip. She slid the warm sponge along the length of his shaft, taking care not to apply too much pressure. When she reached the wrinkled skin at the base, she used her delicate fingers to support his balls while she dabbed them with the sponge. She'd expected his cock to flop back down and get in her way, but it did not; it was fully erect. It seemed the drugs hadn't numbed Mike to all sensation.

Looking at Mike's perfect cock still glistening from the sponge bath, precum beading at the tip, Wes was compelled to have a taste. She leaned forward and flicked her tongue across his balls, before sucking one, and then the other into her mouth. She licked her way up the underside of the shaft. When she reached the tip, she twirled her tongue around it, before scooping up the precum from the center. Mike moaned from his drug-induced haze.

Wes leaned further, until she could let his cock slip between her lips. She sucked on the head, enjoying the familiar taste and feel of his skin. She let her mouth sink until she could feel the tip of his cock tickling her throat. She moaned, and Mike made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a sigh.

She cradled his balls in her warm hand, fondling them as her tongue toyed with the swollen head in her mouth. With her other hand, she gripped his shaft, following the up and down of her lips until she felt him twitch. Her mouth sank on his cock again, and just as it reached the tight opening of her throat, Mike came with a faint grunt. Wes tried to swallow it all and held his cock in her mouth as it softened.

"The Charge Nurse told me to come in and apolo—" Kelly started as she burst into the room. Her eyes widened and remained stuck on the scene before her.

Wes looked up, Mike's cockhead still between her lips. A rivulet of cum dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and down to her chin. She couldn't help but chuckle at the girl standing there with her mouth agape. Wes let Mike's cock slip out of her mouth and licked her lips. She smiled at the nursing assistant.

Kelly rolled her eyes and harrumphed unintelligible comments, before tottering out of the room.

***

The next morning, Dr. Parsons walked in.

"Good morning, Ms. Laplume. Why don't you go for a cup of coffee while I check up on Mr. Weiss? "

Weslie did not want to leave Mike's side, but she had barely managed two hours of sleep the previous night. Standing was quite an effort; her muscles were stiff and aching. She kissed Mike's forehead.

"I'll be right back," she said before making her way down the hall, and into the elevator to the cafeteria.

When Wes returned, Mike was dressed and sitting in a wheelchair. Dr. Parsons flashed his James Bond smile at Wes.

"Ms. Laplume, Mr. Weiss is healing well, so I don't see any reason to keep him here any longer. You can take him home. Make sure he gets plenty of rest."

"Thank you Doctor."

"You're welcome. Now you should know we gave him an analgesic shot, so his jaw will be numb for a while. By the time it wears out, the pain should be minor, but he'll need to stick to soft foods for about a week. And I've written a prescription for acetaminophen which should help with remaining aches and pains. Call me if there is any problem. Oh, and get some rest too Ms. Laplume, I hear you didn't sleep much last night"

The doctor winked at Weslie and left. Wes sighed in relief and took Mike's hand.

"Ready to go home, Honey?"

Mike tried to answer, but all that came out was a garbled sound. Instead, he squeezed Wes's hand in assent.

"Good," Wes said as she walked around the chair to grab the handles, "let's go then."

***

Once they were back at the apartment, Wes helped Mike into bed. He could walk well enough, but with his bruised ribs Wes thought it best for him to lie down right away. She took a quick shower and threw on a t-shirt before rushing back to Mike's side, not even bothering to towel herself off.

Wes sat on the floor next the bed and read to Mike, since he couldn't talk. It wasn't long before Mike fell asleep, yet Wes did not want to step away from him, even for a moment. As she sat there, minutes, then hours drifting by, the near silence became unbearable. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep. Tick-tock, tic-tock, tic-tock, was all she heard besides her lover's quiet breathing. She rested her chin on the bed.

"You know," she said to Mike's sleeping form, "I'm really sorry I was so horrible yesterday. I'm so scared. When you look at me with so much love in your eyes that I have to catch my breath, I'm scared I don't deserve it. Every time we have sex and you are amazed at something we try, I wonder how long it will be before you throw my sexual past in my face. Before you ask how many there were before you. What if someday you want to go have you own experiences with other girls?"

Mike stirred. Wes looked up, but his eyes were still shut. Wes spoke faster and faster, as if the words she'd kept dammed until now were rushing to come out. If she didn't get it all out now, her heart just might explode.

"Mike, do you know the first time you called me your girlfriend, I almost had a panic attack? You believe in romance, and fate, and happy endings, and I look at how imperfect and damaged I am, and I think: I can't be good for you. I—I'm scared I' just can't live up to your idea of a girlfriend. I'm scared I'm not good enough for you."

She felt Mike's hand on her face. He lifted her chin, tilting her head up.

"We—Weslie," he struggled, "you're ...more than good enough. You were ...perfect for me ...the day we met." He tried to smile. He cringed at the slight pain. He lifted a corner of the blanket, inviting Wes to join him. "I love you... as you are," he said as she settled next to him, "I wouldn't... change you ...for anything."

Wes kissed him. There were no words for what she felt. Mike reached under the hem of her shirt and placed a hand on one breast. He kneaded the soft familiar flesh and rolled her nipple between his fingers. He could feel his cock hardening as he listened to Wes's moans. He tried to roll on top of her. He winced; with his ribs as bruised as they were, there was no way he could support his weight above her.

"I'm sorry, Honey," he said, "It looks like I'm not up to—"

"Don't worry."

She got off the bed and rearranged the pillows so that Mike's back and shoulders were propped up comfortably. With him now sitting upright, Wes climbed back into bed and positioned herself between his legs. She placed his cock between her heavy breasts and looked up at him as she worked the supple flesh up and down his shaft. Each time the head peeked up, Wes flicked it with her tongue. Mike gasped. His pleasure made her so wet.

"I'm so ready for you," she breathed. She dipped two fingers between her legs. "See?" she asked as she held out her glistening digits.

"Uh-huh," was all Mike could manage as he inhaled the fragrant aroma. He sucked her fingers clean and licked his lips.

Wes straddled him so that his erection was just at her opening. She sank down little by little; she was afraid sudden movements would be painful for him. When her swollen lips touched his pelvis, she sighed. She leaned forward, so that she could put her hands on the bed and support her weight. She rotated her hips almost imperceptibly, looking out for any sign of discomfort on his face. She rocked her pelvis forward and back, the slow grind of her clit against him sending heat radiating through her body. This was different from the other times they'd had sex. She always saw love and sex as separate entities, and so over the last few months, she had often felt like she was fucking the man she loved. Now it seemed as if she had suddenly gained some abstract understanding of what he had felt since their first night together: they were making love.

Mike came, groaning in pleasure. As his heartbeat slowed back to a normal pace, he gazed at his lover. An ecstatic smile graced her lips, and tears rolled from beneath her closed lids.