Limbo

RACHEL:

Ashley seems to be rather surprised for a second when he sees me standing here, but the startled expression on his face is quickly replaced by a rather devilish grin, and he practically purrs, "If that's an offer, I won't say no."

"If it wasn't an offer, I wouldn't be in here," I reply, as I move his hand away and replace it with my own. "It's been awhile since I've done this, so just speak up if you need me to do something different, okay?"

He nods, and sort of hums his agreement, leaning back against the wall of the shower as I slowly begin to stroke him. I knew he was in pretty great shape, from the one time I saw him nude the first night they were here, but seeing him fully aroused is even more impressive, and I can't stop myself from flashing back to the night he asked me to go backstage with him.

"Damn, I really missed out that night, didn't I?" I mumble, which pulls a laugh from Ash.

"I'm glad you approve," he chuckles, arching his back out from the wall, thrusting his pelvis forward. Then he looks into my eyes and asks, "Why don't you...? I mean, can you, take off your clothes?"

I pause for a moment as I consider the question, then I say, "I honestly don't know, I've never tried."

He smiles at me again, then reaches his hand toward my waist. "Let me, then." He attempts to undo the button on my cut-offs, but his fingers pass right through them. "Damn! You give it a try, then."

I move my hand away, and try to undo the buttons, but I don't have any more luck than he did. "Well, I guess we've answered that question," I sigh, before I wrap my fingers around him again and try to re-establish a rhythm. "So, where was I, then?"

I decide to experiment a little, going faster or slower at different intervals over several minutes, to see what he seems to enjoy the most, and then I move closer to him and use my other hand to start fondling his balls, gently rolling them in my hand. This causes him to throw his head back and close his eyes, and I can see the tendons standing out in his neck as he gasps, "Oh, fuck, just like that! That feels so fucking good, please don't stop!"

I do as he asks, managing to coordinate the movements of both hands, and it's not long before I feel his cock start to twitch in my hand. His fingers scramble for a grip on the wall of the shower stall as his body tenses, then his hips buck toward me almost spasmodically, and he growls, "Oh, fuck,fuck,fuck! FUCK-K-K!!" This is almost a scream as he releases onto the floor of the shower, then sags against the wall, breathing raggedly.

I remove my hands from his body and pick up the shower puff, squirting some more gel onto it. Then, starting at the base of his throat, I begin to run it over his body, soaping him up as he relaxes against the wall. After a couple of minutes, he gently plucks it out of my hand and says, "You should probably let me finish this, darlin'. Otherwise the guys may find me in here tomorrow morning looking like one of the California Raisins. Wait for me in the bedroom, and I'll be out as quick as I can, okay?"

I nod my agreement and step out of the shower. But as I get to the bathroom door, I can't keep from laughing when I hear him mumble, "Assuming that I can still walk, that is."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Thank you!" I call back as I walk out of the room. I take my usual seat on the windowsill as I wait for him to come out, and I'm still kind of amazed that I actually worked up the nerve to do that. When I was with Sawyer, I almost never initiated sex; not because I didn't enjoy it, but because I was always sort of nervous about it, considering what we were all taught when I lived here with the group.

I hear the hair dryer come on in the bathroom, so I know he's out of the shower, and a couple of minutes later, he steps into the bedroom. He grabs a pair of boxers out of the drawer and puts them on, then sits down on the bed and pats the mattress next to him. "Come over here and sit with me, so we can talk, please?" he says.

I go over to the bed and sit next to him, seeing that he has sort of a quizzical expression on his face, like he wants to say something, but isn't quite sure how. I'm pretty sure I know what's coming, so I say, "Ash, I'm sorry if I weirded you out or anything. I guess maybe I was a bit presumptuous, and you don't have to worry, I won't do it again."

His expression changes to complete confusion, and he surprises me by saying, "Whoa, where is this coming from? Yeah, I was a little surprised, but if I gave you the impression that I had complaints, I obviously wasn't doing something right!"

"So you're not upset with me, then?"

"Oh, hell no, babe! Totally the opposite, in fact. That was abso-fucking-loutely amazing, and I sincerely hope you didn't mean what you just said," He pauses for a second, looking sort of rueful, and says, "Although, I guess I can understand if you do, since you sure as hell didn't get anything out of it."

"Ash, that's not really important now," I reassure him. "I just didn't want you to think I was being pushy, or anything like that. I mean, I know most guys like to be the one who decides when something happens."

His mouth drops open, and he gapes at me like a landed fish for probably a full minute before he sort of sputters, "Rachel, please tell me who in the hell gave you a ridiculous idea like that! Why in the world would I get upset because a beautiful woman decides to make it known that she finds me attractive, and wants to be close to me? Why would any man in his right mind have a problem with it, for that matter?"

Knowing that he's not bothered by what happened, I feel a bit more comfortable, and after a second, I tell him, "From the time I was really little, before I even had the slightest fucking clue what sex actually was, all I heard from my father was that it was the man's right to decide what he wanted, and when, and that it was a woman's duty to accept that, and do whatever the man said. Even if it was something that she didn't want to do, or wasn't comfortable with, that didn't matter, because the man was the boss, and what he said, went."

His eyes almost bore into mine for several seconds, then, almost in a whisper, he asks, "Your husband wasn't like that with you, was he?"

"Oh, no, not even a little bit! He was a really great guy, he thought that was a load of crap, just like everything else that my dad tried to shove down our throats," I reply. "He made it very clear that he was okay with me initiating things, but I guess I still had some issues with it, because I chickened out most of the time. We were together for almost three years, and married for just short of two, and I think in all that time I only started things like three, maybe four times. And that was all during the last year we were together, when I finally started to feel a bit more comfortable with the idea. But if he made a move, and I wasn't in the mood, he was perfectly okay with accepting that, though."

"I'm glad to hear that, because you deserve better than that," he tells me. "And just so we know that we're on the same page, I have no problems whatsoever with a woman expressing her sexuality. To be honest, it's actually a turn-on, most of the time, to know that someone thinks I'm that... desirable, or however you want to put it. The only time I have an issue with it is when the chick is aggressive about it, and can't accept that I'm not interested."

"So if I do something, you'll tell me if you're not interested at the time, then?"

"Only if you agree to do the same for me," he responds, brushing the tips of his fingers along my cheek. I nod, and he leans forward, so our foreheads are almost touching. "Do you think I might be able to kiss you?"

"I have no idea, but you're more than welcome to try."

Knowing that he won't be able to get an actual grip on me, he leans forward and brushes his lips against mine, and I cup his face between my hands. It's a rather different process than when I was alive, but we manage to make it work, to a degree. It's very soft, very sweet, and neither of us wants to stop, but eventually I force myself to pull back. "You have to go to the studio in the morning, so I should probably let you go to sleep," I say, and begin to get up from the bed.

"Don't go," he says. "Stay here with me tonight. Please?"

"Okay, just let me go turn off the light." I shut off the light and go back to the bed, laying down next to Ash, with my head on his shoulder, holding onto his hand. I lift my face up to kiss him on the jaw, and say, "Goodnight, Ash. Sleep well."

"Goodnight, Rachel."

He lays on his back, his free hand idly toying with my hair, and just before he's fully asleep, we hear a rumble of thunder, and then the sound of rain on the roof. "Sounds like things might be a bit soggy in the morning," I observe.

"Yeah, maybe," he murmurs. "But I'm okay with that. Do you know why?"

"No, why?"

He lifts his hand, so my hair is draped across his palm, and replies, "Because no matter how cloudy or gloomy it might be out there tomorrow, I still get to wake up to a beautiful sunrise."

I feel my throat tighten up a bit at his words, but I finally manage to say, "If that's what you want, I'll be your sunrise for as long as you're here, Ash. But go to sleep now, you have a long day tomorrow, and Ill be right here when you wake up."

He finally drifts off, and since I don't sleep anymore, I just lie here, listening to the rain and trying not to think about what will happen when they finish the album. Because he's become the only bright spot in my miserable "existence", and when that happens, Ash and I will both lose our sunshine.


NOTE: Sorry I haven't gotten to that extra chapter I promised, but with the holidays going on, every time I think I'm going to have a bit of spare time, either we have company or someone comes up with something I need to do. But I'm shooting for putting up the bonus chapter either Monday or Tuesday, so I'll catch you all then, lovely readers!

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