Aidan Lynch does not need coddling! (aidan_lynch) wrote in afreshrpg, @ 2012-07-29 19:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | retired: aidan lynch, retired: trasa flynn, time: 1998-07 |
What would happen if we kissed/Would your tongue slip past my lips?
Who: Trása and Aidan.
What: An attempt at comfort.
Where: Trása and Siobhan’s hotel room.
When: After Ireland is knocked out of the competition, Thursday, July 26, 1998.
Rating: MA-15+.
Status: Complete.
Warnings: Swearing, sexy stuff
It was a despondent Aidan who returned to the hotel with Trása and Siobhan after Ireland was knocked out in the second round. It was the last thing he’d expected, given how much training he and the team had been putting in and after winning last time, they’d been expecting to do a whole lot better this time too. Now he had the rest of the week unexpectedly free. His daughter was clearly excited by the idea of spending time with both of her parents here in Poland, but she was sad that her daddy was upset. She hugged him for a long time while he was putting her to bed, careful of his injured shoulder. It had been sweet, and he loved how empathetic his daughter was.
After Siobhan had fallen asleep and Aidan had left one last kiss on her forehead, he returned to the adjoining room and glanced at his ex. He couldn’t begin to express how devastating this was, but had a feeling that Trása might just be able to guess. He knew he should return to his own room, but he didn’t want to be alone right now. His brother was here, and he could go and drag him out for a drink to drown his sorrows but he wasn’t sure he could handle being around his newly in love brother right now. As he gazed at Trása, he felt a sudden yearning for something he hadn’t had access to for four years now.
Snuggling with Trása was something special and Aidan missed it with a power that surprised him. Hovering by the door to Siobhan’s room, which Aidan had closed behind him, he gazed uncertainly at Trása, fully expecting to be kicked out any moment now. “Do you think,” he began, then bit his lip and tried again. “Would you mind if I stayed a bit longer?”
-
Trása had been quiet on their return to the hotel room, well acquainted with the fact that Aidan’s emotions were inextricably tied to his success (or lack thereof) on the pitch. She could almost taste the irony. The last world cup had been turbulent for them both, but Ireland had triumphed. This time round, they’d been acting almost a family, but the team had been knocked out earlier than even the bookkeepers had expected. He’d been on track until that bludger arrived to mess it all up. She’d left him and Sib in privacy for tonight’s tuck in, sure that the presence of their daughter would be much more comforting and soothing than her own. She wasn’t sure she could fault that; if given the choice, she’d probably choose the little girl’s hero worship and unconditional love over the regret Trása surmised she symbolised for her ex. Besides, if she was honest with herself, Trása was trying to downplay how concerned she’d been when that bludger had connected with Aidan’s shoulder, the sickening crack seeming to echo through the stadium.
When he asked if he could stay, Trása blinked, confused for a moment. It was quickly replaced by sympathy as he bit his lip, looking so young and lost for a moment there, and hot on its heels came a spark, albeit mild, of irritation. Of course he was still heart-breakingly gorgeous. Of course he wanted to be consoled. Damn him. Or damn her, really, since she didn’t think she had the heart to turn him away right now. Not when he’d been injured to boot. If four years hadn’t passed, perhaps she’d be less compassionate, but they were older and wiser now. Better people. She’d been hurt, worse than even she could find the words for, but she still cared for him. He was the father of her child, after all. And if it was more than that, well, it wasn’t a thought she was like to dwell on.
Finally, she answered. “It’s fine. Grab something to drink?” He was unhealthily disciplined during the season, like he could somehow exorcise all his well-hidden demons if he just pushed himself hard enough, but Trása was of the opinion that, at least right now, Aidan needed to allow himself to unwind. To taste the failure, even. And she was quite sure he couldn’t face that alone.
-
It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse when it sank in that it didn’t matter whether he had a drink tonight. He didn’t have to play tomorrow. He didn’t have to play again until September. Of course, there was no way he’d be off the pitch until then. He had tryouts to prepare for, a team to pull together under his captaincy, and his own fierce determination to be the best he could be that wouldn’t allow him to take much downtime, but one night couldn’t hurt. And he had to admit, he could really use a drink right now.
“Okay. Do you want one?” he asked as he walked over to the mini fridge and crouched down to have a look inside. After surveying the selection, he glanced at Trása for confirmation before pulling out a bottle of red wine and poured them both a glass. Joining Trása on the couch, he passed her one of the glasses and took a sip of his own, then let out a heavy sigh. “This is not how I expected this week to go,” he admitted quietly. In fact, the defeat, close though it had been, had left him quite lost. After weeks of intense training, he now had nothing to show for it and that just didn’t compute in Aidan’s world.
-
She’d sipped as he sighed and spoke, the wine warming her from within. Trása hadn’t been sure how he’d react. All-encompassing rage, abject self-pity...he invested so much in his performance on the pitch that anything was possible. But he looked so dejected. It made sense, really, the coolly-analytical-reporter part of her mind surmised. Since he’d made quidditch his priority over so many things, including her, he was crushed when it didn't pay off. But she wouldn’t - she couldn’t - glory in that when he was so despondent. Not when she cared about him. Not when Sib had comforted him in her own little way, and been so distraught over his injury. “The risk of expectation is disappointment,” she reminded him gently. “Even when we work on it, Aidan.” They knew that better than most, after all. “It happens to everyone.”
-
It might happen to everyone, but Aidan didn’t expect it to happen to him. Not when he worked so hard. The fact that the game had been so close wasn’t a comfort at all. In fact, it made it worse. He’d been inches away from the snitch and if it wasn’t for that bludger, the game could have ended completely differently. Clearly he would have to practice with bludgers more often so it wouldn’t throw him off like it had this time.
Still, now was not the time to contemplate changes to his training. There would be plenty of time for that in the morning. Taking another good sip of his wine, he glanced at Trása, his arm resting on the back of the couch and it was then that he noticed that he barely had to move in order to curl a strand of Trása’s silky red hair around his fingers. “Cute bow.” He even managed a faint smile as he tapped on the Irish bow Trása had in her hair that matched the two Siobhan had been wearing along with her Irish tutu that she’d insisted on sleeping in. “Thanks for coming, Trása. I know it’s a long way to come, but it meant a lot to me that you and Sib were here.”
And it really had. Knowing they were there with him, along with the time they’d been able to spend together as a family, had meant everything to him.
-
A momentary stillness, so swift she doubted Aidan had noticed it, came over Trása when his fingers found their way into her hair. It was gone almost as soon as it began, covered in a soft laugh at his comment about the bow. “She’s got good taste, you know.” Sib had looked utterly adorable in her little get up, and while she’d usually insist the little miss sleep in her pyjamas, the excitement and shock of the day (namely her father’s injury) had seen Trása relent. Besides, there would be no more Ireland games to wear it to, and she’d’ve grown out of it by the next world cup.
“It’s okay,” Trása murmured, returning Aidan’s smile. “It’s something special she should get to share with you.” Few of the current crop of competitors appeared to have kids, and in years to come, Siobhan’s joy at getting to experience her father playing in the cup would far outlast the painful reminder it represented for Trása. Besides, she was doing her best to ignore any pangs the very obvious evidence of Aidan’s choice caused her, deciding instead to focus on Sib’s excitement and the time they’d spent together as a family. It was as close as they’d been to one since she was a scant few months old, and Trása chose to treasure that. “Besides, you know she’s loved having both of us at once.”
-
It meant a lot to Aidan that Trása had made the effort to bring Sib this far when she didn’t have to. Aidan certainly hadn’t expected it, but he’d loved it. He’d only recently started sharing what he did with his baby girl and seeing her face light up when they took to the air on his broomstick was something he would never forget. He wasn’t sure if Trása knew about that, but doubted Siobhan had kept it to herself. Trása had to know that Aidan would take a bullet for their daughter. Glancing at his ex and catching her eye, he revised that thought. He would take a bullet for both of them.
“Yeah,” he replied with a wistful smile, still toying with Trása’s hair. “It’s been nice. And now I guess I have plenty of time to spend with her, unless you’re planning to head back early...”
He wouldn’t blame her if she’d decided to go after Ireland’s dismal performance, but there was still the zoo Aidan wanted to take Siobhan to with its fairytale section. He knew she’d love it. “We could give her some more family time, if you’re able to stay a bit longer,” he tempted, turning on the charm as he smiled at Trása as he tugged gently on a strawberry-blonde curl.
-
In all honesty, heading back early hadn’t even entered Trása’s mind. She’d taken the week’s holiday, rather loved the hotel, and intended to enjoy the break with her daughter. Sharing the time with Aidan was the entire point of them coming; for Sib to get to witness the rare feat her father had achieved and create irreplaceable memories. “We’re not going anywhere. I haven’t had the joy of witnessing you in the chocolate salon yet.” She shot him something of a lazily sassy smile over the rim of her wine glass. It had been nice, seeing how good he was with Sib and how happy it made her daughter to spend time with both of her parents. It was what she’d always wanted for Siobhan.
“Family time’s why I came, you know.” It certainly wasn’t as if she’d missed the world cup madness, given she’d been too busy with a newborn to have gotten caught up in it last time round. “Turns out you’re not terrible to spend time with,” she teased. He was so sweet with Siobhan, attentive and protective and utterly invested in whatever it was their little girl had to show him; all things she’d loved about him when they’d been together. Aidan was as charming as he’d ever been, even if she no longer looked at that particular trait with stars in her eyes. His smile, though, hadn’t dimmed, and was still fully capable of distracting her thoughts.
-
Aidan barked out a laugh when she mentioned the chocolate salon. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to get out of that one, and hell, now that Ireland had lost, he supposed he might as well indulge. He could get back to his usual diet once they were back in Ireland. “I suppose I’m not going to get much of a choice,” he sighed the sigh of the long suffering, but didn’t mind as much as he was making out. Focusing on his family was helping him to push aside the crush of defeat, and now that he was here, sitting beside Trása and drinking wine, he was struck by how beautiful she was. It was something he’d always known, but he hadn’t let himself acknowledge it in so long.
Letting the curl that he’d twisted around his finger unravel a bit, he let the tips of his fingers graze over her cheekbone, crossing a line he hadn’t let himself think about in years now. “You’re not terrible to spend time with either,” he replied softly, though his words had the faintness of a thought uttered absently while his focus was elsewhere. On her. Aidan found himself leaning closer, as if the urge to kiss her had taken over now and he was simply along for the ride. “I’ve really enjoyed our time together this week.” Sparse though it had been with the games he had to play, though he’d made a point of always being here to tuck Siobhan in and kiss her goodnight.
Trása was leaning in, he was pleased to notice, taking that as a good sign. Closing the distance between them, Aidan’s lips pressed against Trása’s for the first time since he left her. Eyes closed and his hand moved to cup her cheek as he tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss, seeking more, if she would let him.
-
Trása never got the chance to answer, but what would she have said? It was as if her words were washed away, swept along by the emotions of the day, the wine, and Aidan’s inimitable pull. He was still the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, and having the intensity of his full focus turned on her in a way it hadn’t been for four long years was overwhelming.
The tiny gasp when he’d first kissed her was long since gone as she gave in. Reaching out blindly to set her glass on the nearby table, she leaned in closer to his solid warmth, eyes closing. She knew this dance, knew him, and he still felt, tasted the same after so long. They’d been casual and careful in the past, any contact between the two of them incidental and meaningless, not apt to bring memories and desires to the surface. But this was something altogether different, and it was a powerful thing, to feel wanted again. Her hand, now free of the glass, slipped between them to lay against his chest, almost as if reassuring herself he was here, now, with her.
-
Aidan hadn’t been sure that Trása would respond until she actually did, and then in an instant, he was lost. Aidan’s fingers slid up into her hair as he shifted closer, deepening the kiss into something he was just now realising how much he’d missed. Silken strawberry-blonde strands sifted between his fingers as their mouths remembered all the ways they’d moved together as if there’d been no time in between. His other hand landed easily on Trása’s thigh, sadly covered by her jeans, but soon slid up. She tasted just as sweet as he remembered, his fingers sliding beneath her sheer top to trace the bare skin beneath.
-
Aidan, charismatic and gorgeous as he was, was all-consuming. That their daughter was barely asleep in the next room, that they really shouldn’t be doing this, were thoughts that hadn’t even occurred to her. Trása was far too caught up in kissing him, touching him, hands retracing familiar paths along his chest, the Irish team guernsey he wore thin enough to reveal every inch of painstakingly sculpted muscle she brushed against. It as an effort not to moan into him.
When he brushed against her skin under her shirt, Trása’s breath hitched. Unconsciously, her fingers curled, clutching at the soft green fabric. Once she finally released her hold, her hand skirted up the the base of his neck, mirroring Aidan’s feather-light touches. She had no more need of wine to make her feel light headed.
-
Now this was the best way to put crushing defeat behind him. Aidan could think of nothing better than being with his girls tonight. His fingers were lightly stroking over Trása’s side, not venturing further yet until he felt Trása’s hand on the back of his neck. She wasn’t stopping him, she was encouraging him. With that realisation, his fingers started creeping up, dancing lightly over her warm skin, her top bunching up over his wrist. She was even more beautiful now than she had been when he met her. Motherhood had definitely been good to Trása, giving her gorgeous curves that he’d been itching to get his hands on.
With his other hand gently cupping the back of her head, Aidan pressed closer to her, not wanting to break the kiss even though there were other places he longed to explore with his mouth. Fingers lightly brushed along the underside of her breast in search of a nipple that was hidden by the soft fabric of her bra.
-
It felt like so long - too long - since she’d been touched like this. Maybe it was maternal guilt, but Trása didn’t make a habit of seeking sex often. Aidan, she knew from rather enjoyable experience, approached it with the same single minded devotion that he lavished upon his sport; that anything worth doing was worth doing to the utmost of your ability. And he was certainly able. More than. Her body had undoubtedly changed since the last time they’d done this, but he still knew how to wring reactions from her like no other.
Hands she’d missed trailed fire over her skin, and she responded in kind, holding, kissing, pulling herself in close. There was no room for thought when she was consumed by feeling, overwhelmed by sensation; the warmth of his skin, the hard muscles beneath her wandering hands, and his lips against hers, where she’d swear they belonged.
-
Truthfully, Aidan was still waiting for Trása to come to her senses and push him away. That she hadn’t yet seemed a miracle, but one that Aidan wasn’t about to stop to question. Maybe he was wrong to think she might have second thoughts. Maybe this was what she wanted. Spurred on by that thought, Aidan’s fingers hooked into Trása’s bra and pulled the cup down to reveal her breast to his eager fingers. He could feel the changes to her body that pregnancy and breastfeeding had wrought, but if anything, it just made him want her more.
Rolling her nipple between forefinger and thumb, he broke away from her mouth as he pulled her top up, his knee sliding between her legs as he shifted so he could latch onto her nipple, tongue swirling over the puckered skin before sucking. His hand was now resting on her side, but it didn’t stay idle for long, slipping around her back to start working on unfastening her bra.
-
There were so many times Trása hadn’t wanted to admit, even to herself, that she’d missed this. It had become easier to say as time wore on and resentment faded to wisdom. She missed how good it felt, how easy it was to slip back into his arms. Even if she shouldn’t. She could confess to wanting him, so much it almost scared her. It would have been so easy to give in, and Aidan wasn’t leaving her in any doubt that he intended to have her, to make her feel everything they’d denied each other in the intervening years.
Her top was pushed up, lips parted as half a moan poured forth before it was ripped into a gasp when the sharp suck of his mouth seemed to lance all through her body. Her eyes flew open, and even though she could feel her body readying itself for the promise his hands seemed to whisper, it had been enough. Enough to know that despite the heady pleasure of being pressed against him once more, this wasn’t right. Physically, Trása wanted to continue. She could have happily let him carry her back to the sumptuous bedroom if it hadn’t been for the dignity she’d archly reminded him of over their journals mere weeks ago. But she couldn’t bear the thought of having him when he didn’t want all of her. He’d been making advances for their last few conversations, comments she’d fobbed off or tolerated because she knew how the lead up to the world cup affected him. But she wasn’t going to let him pick and choose which parts of her to play with whenever they took his fancy. She couldn’t. Not when the foundation she’d slowly rebuilt in the wake of him walking out was built on respecting herself enough to make the tough choices. Not when she desperately wanted to teach Siobhan that a girl had to fight tooth and nail to stake her claim on her dignity because no one else would do it for her.
He hadn’t wanted her enough to stay, and Trása doubted that would ever change if she let this continue. It took a strength of will she was sadly all too familiar with, biting her lip as she pushed up against his shoulder. “Aidan” She drew in a somewhat shaky breath, summoning some semblance of control. “Aidan, stop.” Salazar, how much did she hate to say it? To be the one to push him away when her whole body cried out for him to complete her? But he'd refused to complete their family, and that was something she couldn't do without. Once again, his impulsiveness was leaving the responsibility in her hands. She wondered if she'd ever learn.
-
Those were the words Aidan really didn’t want to hear and moving away from her was one of the hardest things he’d done, but he made himself do it. Letting her nipple fall from between his lips, he raised his eyes to look at her, drinking in the flushed cheeks and the brightness of her eyes, and oh, those kissable lips. Lips that he couldn’t resist pressing one last kiss to before he moved off her completely and across the couch to put some space between them. He was achingly hard, and it was probably obvious but he didn’t even attempt to hide it. It was pointless when Trása knew damn well how she affected him.
“Sorry,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face but it did nothing to dispell the heat he could feel in his cheeks. He was in desperate need of a cold shower, and he probably shouldn’t be here when their baby girl woke up, unless he wanted to confuse her even further. “I should go,” he said, pushing himself up off the couch. Unlike Trása, he refused to think about it in any depth. Just as when he played, he was a creature of instinct, not thinking any further than the next game or the next week, and had been for the last four years.
-
Trása couldn’t look at him at first. Instead, she shifted her bra back into place, covering her still tender nipple, and pulled her shirt back down. A short enough time to compose herself, but it had helped. “I-” she began, but her voice faded quickly, unsure of what she was meant to say. Scooping her glass from where it had been forgotten on the table, Trása took a long sip. Finally, she looked at him, his posture etched with regret. Trása didn’t mean for her gaze to drop down, but it was impossible to not notice the very blatant evidence of his desire. How very easy it would be to reach across the space between and pull him back to her. It would take far too long to forgive herself for doing so.
“You’re right.” And she’d be alone with the dignity that didn’t keep her warm at night, the cold comfort that was doing the Right Thing. But she’d take both of those over being relegated to a notch on the post of the bed where she once slept in his arms. Trása took another less-than-measured sip. There was a temptation to add her apology to his, but what was it she should be sorry for? That he kissed her? That she kissed him back? That she took so long to come to her senses, or the fact that she had done so at all? It was more than she could work out right now. “We promised her the zoo tomorrow. You probably need your rest.” She regretted saying it almost instantly, remembering his comment about how much more soundly she’d sleep after sex. But thinking of Siobhan was giving her the strength to turn him away.
-
Aidan knew damn well he wouldn’t be getting sleep any time soon, but he nodded anyway, barely able to look at her for longer than a few scant seconds. “I’ll come by around ten, if that works for you,” he suggested, focusing on their daughter and how excited she was about the zoo or else he’d be tempted to cancel completely. It was a special kind of torment to be forced to interact with an ex, he’d learned, but it hadn’t been this sharp in years.
Doing his best to ignore it, Aidan strode over to the door but stopped with his hand on the knob. “On second thought, I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast whenever you’re ready.” Even with Sib around, it was probably best not to revisit the scene. With Trása’s nod, Aidan turned the handle and escaped the hotel room, mentally kicking himself for being such an idiot as he strode down the hallway towards the elevator that would take him up to the floor the team was on. Thank fuck he had his own room. He didn’t want to have to deal with anyone else right now. Not when he could still smell Trása’s perfume on his skin and the memory of her kiss still on his lips.
-
The click of the closing door, that terribly final sound, saw Trása expel a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. She slid a hand through her hair, unable to shake the feeling of him, the want. Instead, she downed the rest of her glass in a single gulp. “But I still just wish you wanted to stay,” she murmured, the damning silence of the room all the answer she required. It was the first time in a long while that she knew for certain that it was what she wanted. And right now, beyond a doubt, it was the one thing she couldn’t have. Trása rose with a sigh, leaving the empty crystal on the table and instead snatching up the bottle to carry back to her lonely bed.