RP: Dress practically and warm! Who: Emilia and Robert What: First date When: Sunday April 28, afternoon Warnings: Adult topics. Completion Status: Incomplete
Dress practically and warm. That was all she had been told, when as promised, Robert had called her the minute he had gotten home from their walk. While part of her had thought he was joking when he had shown that rare display of adorable charm, Emilia hadn’t been surprised when his name had shown on her phone’s display literally moments after she had toed off her own boots. They had just spent the evening walking by the lakefront, talking, cuddling and sharing kisses that still made her lips tingle and yet just that call to properly ask her out on a date, had taken longer than their usual talks on the phone, just because… well, because there was just that desire for another couple of words, hearing his voice, and now she felt like she could allow herself to want to hear more of it.
But, practically and warm. She could do that. You didn’t grow up with Benji as a twin without knowing that a knitted sweater, jeans and hiking boots were essential no matter where in the world you lived. Emilia might not know where they were going, but she could wear a pair of jeans like the slinky dresses she wore whenever she went out dancing, and she didn’t need high heels to feel confident. She pulled her black and white sweater over her long sleeved t-shirt - the weather was getting warmer, but she would rather take off the sweater if it got too warm, than having to go back because it was too cold without it - kept her makeup light and her hair loose, though she stuck a hairband in her pocket, just in case it was windy where they were going.
She had just tied up her boots, when right on time, she heard the roar of Robert’s truck outside, and with a quick check of her pockets and messenger bag, she made sure she had everything, before she went out to greet him. She was fairly certain that she was walking, but she felt like she was bouncing. It had been too long, in her opinion, since she had been out on a real date, as in not just hooking up over drinks, but someone who made the butterflies flutter and who had actually called to ask her out.
“Hi,” she smiled at him, leaning over to kiss him, just because she couldn’t not. Robert smiled into her hello kiss - there was something so easy about it and nothing had been easy for him in so long. He wanted to luxuriate in it, but they had a date to get to. She had told him he could take her somewhere he liked, so he had decided on a spot that no one else knew. Well, at least not the way he did. "Hi," he nearly whispered as they pulled apart. "You look beautiful," he said, sincerely. She really did - it appeared that even dressed down, she was a stunner, but he could have guessed that.
They drove out Tarrytown and through Sleepy Hollow before hitting backroads that wound between forests and then broke wide open into farmland and rolling hills. Finally, after about 45-minutes in the truck, he pulled off to the side of a country road and gave her a look that said, 'trust me?' He got out and went to open her door, helping her down out of the tall truck. Once she was settled, he pulled a pack bag out of the back of the truck and then took her hand, "Ready?" He indicated a rough hewn but well-worn path in the short burst of trees and then they came out on the other wise to the top of a hill that looked out over the farm valley. There was a flat rock where he stopped fully and set the bag down. "So..." He felt a little less at ease and wondered if this was a stupid idea after all.
"You said you wanted to see somewhere I'd like to show you. And... this is it." He ended with, feeling lame, but hoping she understood. “Thank you,” she told him simply, choosing to take the compliment, especially with the way he was looking at her. There was no need to play coy, she didn’t want to fish for compliments or force him to try and convince her otherwise. With Robert, she didn’t feel that need, though she did have to stop herself from replying you, too, since beautiful wasn’t what she would call him. “You look very handsome yourself,” she told him instead. And he really did, but not only that, he looked good, like he actually felt good and not like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
She was horribly curious about where they were going, but she trusted him and didn’t want to spoil what he had prepared. So rather than badger him with questions, she settled into her seat, and let her hand come to rest on his thigh as he navigated them first through the town and then out into the country. They talked easily, but slowly Emilia fell quiet. Not because she was uncomfortable, but because in all the years she had lived in New York, she hadn’t really made it outside the city or the suburbs. At most, she had hiked in the forests close to where she lived, but actual outdoor open landscapes? Those tended to be reserved for when she had gone back to Washington to visit Benji. She had felt at home when she lived in White Plains, even more so after she had relocated to Tarrytown, and now that she saw what was outside of town, she knew she was in the right place.
When Robert pulled over the car, she met his look with a quirked eyebrow of her own and a look that said ‘why wouldn’t I?’ She let him help her out of the truck, and as he got the bag, she sorted through her own bag, taking only her phone - just in case - shoving it in her back pocket, and leaving the bag in the truck. “Ready,” she told him, giving his hand a squeeze.
The air was fresh and the wind gentle enough not to be cold, and when they came through the trees, stopped alongside him. He hadn’t needed to tell her that this was where he had planned to go, because that would have been stating the obvious. It was so peaceful and quiet here, seemingly far from everything, and yet still close enough that you could always go home. “It’s beautiful here,” she smiled up at him, before she looked back out over the farmed fields. “So peaceful. I can see why you like it here.” His smile was small, and he quietly repeated her, "Peaceful," and he nodded. He gave her a smile and lifted the pack bag. "We have catering," he joked. He settled it to the ground and opened it to pull out a soft flannel blanket, a bottle of wine, two bottles of Bud Light (for himself, of course), and a soft cooler filled with snacks, sandwiches, and fresh fruit. He looked up at her with a sheepish smile, hoping this was all okay. He'd never done anything like this before. Emilia watched as he unpacked the bag, her smile turning warmer with each item he pulled out. When he looked up at her, she met his gaze, and wished she could take away that sheepish smile on his face. Didn’t he know that the fact that he had wanted to bring her here, share this with her was already touching in itself? That the consideration he showed by bringing a blanket for them to sit on, made her feel appreciated? And that the wine and snacks and everything else was better suited for this, for them than any dinner at a fancy restaurant. Still keeping her eyes on his, her smile turned, if possible warmer as she crouched down in front of him. “It’s perfect, Rob,” she said, and reached out to touch his cheek. “I’m really not that difficult of a date.” He laughed at her little joke and shrugged, "Pretty sure you already know this is not my... forte... But please, let's sit." The view was spectacular and there was no one for acres, which was absolutely his favorite part. When his demons got too loud, he came here so as not to disturb his father.
Once they settled in and he had poured her a glass of wine and opened his beer and spread out all the snacks, he took her hand. "Can I start with something that isn't exactly date conversation?" He wanted to tell her - at least a bit - about his issues. He felt she'd understand, even if it meant she didn't want to date him (which he would completely understand, and he would actually think her very, very smart for). He felt she deserved to know, just in case this grew into something. She smiled at him and sat down, though still leaned over to look him straight in the eyes. “I kinda figured,” she admitted, “and yet, you still make my tummy flutter, okay?” With a chuckle, she brushed a light kiss to his lips and leaned back to make herself comfortable.
Taking the wine from him, she caressed her thumb over his hand. “Of course, you can,” she assured him. The talks they’d had on their walks could hardly be considered seductive or even pre-date conversation, and maybe that was why she had found herself attracted to him or at least partly why. Honestly, she didn’t believe in there being specific topics reserved for dating, and ‘date’? Wasn’t that really just a simpler, less formal word for ‘spending time together doing something’? However, there was a soberness to his voice that had her thinking that this was something he had to work up to sharing with her. “It’s just us, you and me.” Robert nodded and took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I'm usually pretty vague when talking about myself, my family, my history, right?" He looked to her for encouragement. "It's because it's... hard to think about. Consciously, at least. I think about it all the time without realizing." He wasn't making sense, and he kind of knew that.
He shook his head, "I'm sorry, that was... mixed up. Would you mind if I just... started from the beginning?" Emilia nodded in agreement; when it came to himself and what he had done, he was pretty tightlipped, though she had gleaned that it hadn’t been easy for him, for quite a few years. She hadn’t pried and she hadn’t prodded, figuring that eventually, if he felt he was ready or that she needed to know, he would share it with her.
”It’s okay,” she assured him, taking a sip of her wine, licking her lips approvingly, before she set it aside, and scooted a bit closer to Robert, until their knees were touching. “You can start wherever you want, with as much or as little as you want.” He nodded again and licked his own lips in nervousness, but he also leaned over and lightly kissed her cheek in thanks for her understanding. He swallowed thickly - he was a writer dammit, words were supposed to be easy for him. "So, Dad was a Marine, and came from Vietnam pretty fucked up, as you can probably imagine. But being a Marine is still the thing he's most proud of in the world. And it was mostly just me and him growing up, my Mom kind of... Came and went? I guess." He shook his head, a look near disgust on his face, at his father's doormat love for his mother. "So, anyway, I grew up on the stories - he never talked about the bad parts, I didn't hardly know bad parts existed. So when I graduated, I enlisted, because of course." He finally looked her in the eye and rolled his own. She tilted her head into his kiss, a gentle acknowledgement that she liked it and that she was still here. As he swallowed down, Emilia briefly wondered how bad what he was trying to say was going to be. His nervousness was obvious, and he seemed to be struggling to find the right words to get started. For a moment she was tempted to suggest that he could write it for her, since sometimes that was just easier, and with him being a writer? Well, it wasn’t that big an assumption to make. But then he got started, and she simply let him hold her hand as she listened.
“Of course,” Emilia agreed with a nod, when he appeared to need confirmation that he had done the most obvious thing in his situation. “You grew up with a romanticised version of the Marines. Dress blues, sabres, makes sense.” No, she hadn’t ever been even remotely tempted by the military, but she could see the allure for someone like Robert with what he had told about his father. "Well," he started with a sarcastic smirk, "It didn't last long. I got injured during an overnight training op. Honorably discharged and a year of surgeries and PT, and I was washed up." He shrugged again, I went to college instead. My Dad's pension and my disability payments from the USMC made it possible, I didn't really know what I wanted to do, had never thought of it. Thus the English degree. It was an easy general studies course. Um, I went to NYU," he added lamely as if that was something - one thing - to be proud about. But he soldiered on - all of that had been the easy part.
"Graduated with a major in journalism thanks to an internship at the Times, and it turned out like absolutely nobody there had military training.They made me a military correspondent once I'd graduated, because I was one of the only people who could string a sentence together that had the training to be in a warzone." He shuddered as he begin to remember, his head hung a little low as he tried to continue. Emilia winced at the thought of Robert not only getting injured, but the degree it would have been for him to require as many surgeries and physical rehabilitation afterwards. However, from what she had seen of him, he appeared to have recovered remarkably. With a nod and a smile, she commended his degrees in both English and journalism, because from what she had heard, NYU wasn’t something to turn your nose up at. Besides, he had gotten a degree, which was way more than a lot of people did. So far, she didn’t see how any of what he was telling her could possibly be something he could see as difficult to share with her.
But then he got to the part about his work at the Times. She might not have a degree in journalism, but she remembered what the world had been like for the past decade. They were the same age, so from what he had told her, she could guestimate when he had interned at the Times and which warzone he might have been sent to.
There was a tightness around her heart and in her stomach, almost like she would have felt if he was there now rather than sitting with her, holding her hand. She wanted to reach out and turn his head up so she could look at him, so he would look at her, but she didn’t want to force him. The need for a bit of privacy, even if only achieved by looking away, was one that she knew well, too. Instead, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Where did they send you?” she asked him softly. So she knew about the conflicts of the early 90's. A lot of people didn't bother with them. "Slovenia. I was still an intern. It was between semesters in '91. I got home in time to finish up and then it was off to the races... I was everywhere. They put me with Marines and some Special Forces, front line, the UN Blue Helmets... The camps..." The camps were the worst. They were supposed to protect people - instead the women and children who'd been moved there, almost all Muslim Bosniaks, had been abused, assaulted in ways Robert wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. It was like the UN had rounded them up just to be picked off one by one. Tens of thousands... He'd interviewed them, written about them as dispassionately as possible, and it had broken something deep within him.
He shook his head, the shuddering coming on stronger and he knew he couldn't continue, hopes she understood enough for now. He struggled to get out, "There's more, but I understand if it's too much..." He knew his issues were too much. He was too much. Emilia’s eyes were stinging. Not because she was upset with him, but for what he had been through in the name of getting information out to the world. She had read about what had happened, had seen the news reports, and during her rotations she had been involved in the treatment and care of soldiers returning from that area. She could only imagine what it must have been like, to witness it firsthand and have to relay that back to people who had no real clue.
Her hand tightened around his as his shuddering grew stronger and he began to shake his head, as he began to make excuses as if she was the one being burdened here. “Hey,” she said softly, trying to get his attention, though when he didn’t look up, she scooted closer, almost climbing into his lap in order to reach him. “Hey hey hey,” she said soothingly, wrapping her arms around him, hoping that he would let her comfort her, even if only a little bit. “It’s not too much, not for me,” she whispered, gently stroking his hair, hoping that he wouldn’t reject her. “I’m here, and I’ll listen to anything you want to tell me, okay?” Robert surprised himself vaguely when he allowed her near him, to hold him. It wasn't normal - this whole thing was foreign to him. His father - maybe the one who could understand his pain in the only real way - they never talked about it. Robert didn't know what his father had been through in Vietnam, but he could know in his own way. He hadn't witnessed napalm, the burning of innocent villages, but he had seen his own version of it. And yet here he was being comforted by someone who could have no idea, and yet seemed to understand intrinsically, deep down. Finally, he nodded, and fully allowed her to hold him.
He swallowed thickly again, and his arms came around her, pulled her fully into his lap and held tight. "You're sure?" He asked, waiting for her answer before pulling her even closer and kissing her fiercely. His sadness, his anger, his adoration for her understanding all poured into the searing kiss. When at first there was no reaction, Emilia - for the briefest moment - considered letting go of him, to give him the space she thought he might be wanting. But she didn’t. Robert was a big man, if he didn’t want her touch, she had no doubt he would have let her know, and even if it turned out that he didn’t, dammit, but she would try to comfort him until he pushed her away!
“I’m sure,” she assured him, when his arms finally came around her. There was no way she could ever truly understand what he had been through, for the simple reason that she hadn’t experienced anything like it, but she could listen, she could be a safe space for him, and though it hurt to know what he had gone through, she knew it was only a fraction of what he was feeling. No, she could listen and-
Any further thought she might have had, was instantly cut of his lips found hers in a crushing kiss that took her breath away. Her fingers fisted in the hair at the back of his neck, and she groaned slightly when his strong arms pulled her closer, forcing a hard breath from her against his cheek. He wasn’t hurting her, far from it, but the kiss was heady and overwhelming and absolutely amazing. When she moaned and returned his intensity, he kissed down her neck, doing his best not to leave any marks, unsure how she felt about that. One arm held her close to him as his lips moved down her body and the other moved to her jeans to grip tightly at her ass in his lap. His large hand palmed and kneaded at her through the denim material and he nipped at her collar bone through her sweater. Her name, harsh and craving, came out of his throat between kisses like a man calling for water who'd been lost in a dessert. Oh dear sweet blessed being! With a sigh, she let her head fall back, baring her neck to his kisses. His warm hands left a scorching trail down her body, even through her sweater, and when he reached her ass, she moved with them, her hips rolling slowly against him. She heard her name, leaning her head with his moves, nuzzling his hair as he pressed kisses against her collar bone.
She breathed his name, gently urging his head up until she could look into his eyes. She wanted to see him, wanted him to see her, wanted him to know that she wanted this too. For a long beat she simply moved with his hands, holding his gaze before she nodded - a barely there movement, but a nod of consent nonetheless - and leaned in to kiss him deeply. Oh, fuck, her kisses, the way she looked into his eyes and didn't flinch, wasn't afraid of the demons running roughshod through his own. That look did more to him than even the way her tight, curvy body rubbed against his with such need. He growled into her kiss, a fierceness he hadn't felt in years roaring to the surface as he grabbed even harder at her ass, pulling her to him and stilling her. He was sure she felt his need through their jeans, hard as a rock for her and without release for weeks now, but he was sure neither of them cared for embarrassment at the moment. Fuck, he needed her. He didn't need anyone, but he needed her right now, right here.
"Em," he breathed out breaking their kiss to hold her gaze as his hands moved to dig into her jeans and to feel the flesh of her ass; he hissed at the contact. Emilia gasped; the way his hands pulled her close, stilling her hips, his hardness pushing against her just so made her tense up to keep from chasing that dull throbbing that was starting to build up a need in her. But she got the meaning. She could feel her own reaction, rubbing against his reaction, and they would need to make a decision pretty soon, or they could all too easily end up like teenagers just rutting against each other.
Once again she found herself looking into his eyes, his almost impossibly dark eyes, seeing not just the ghosts of his past, but his need and desire for the here and now. She’d heard him say her name, barely more than a hum, but enough for her to know. Again, she nodded, not sure how to go about it, but his fingers on her skin felt scorching and made her want more. “Rob,” she murmured, trying to keep her breathing under control, trying to work out how to move without losing his touch. Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to his jaw, to his neck, to his Adam’s apple, her fingers seeking out the buttons on his shirt. One by one she undid them until she could slide her hands down his naked chest. He breathed out with a shuttering, racking sigh as she undid the buttons of his flannel and her nimble fingers slid along the hard plains of his well-built body. "Fuck," he ground out. He had been able to do anything to Iris, anything, and yet Emilia's touch felt like somehow so much more. "We're alone," he assured her, as her hands explored, and his hands grasped and grabbed and kneaded more, pushing her body against his erection over and over again. He hissed again, hard as a rock and straining against his jeans and doing his best to keep himself in control. He wanted to throw her over and just take her here on the blanket in the middle of nowhere. “I know.” Finally she managed to tear her gaze from his chest and look back up at him. She arched against him, gasping as he rubbed against her, her lips closing around his upper lip and her tongue darting out to tease. “I know,” she breathed against his lips, drawing on all her strength and need for him, to pull back out of his lap, without breaking the kiss for too long. She held her hand out to him, leaning down to kiss him again until he too got up. Barely was he on her feet, before she reached for him, reaching between them to undo his jeans. “Want you,” she murmured against his lips. “Please, Rob.” Oh, god dammit, the way she looked in front of him, undoing the buckle of his jeans like some sort of perfect fantasy come to life. The sounds of it, the way her little hands worked so perfect, he took a hard breath. "Em," he breathed out when she'd said 'please'. Fuck. "Anything, Em, anything," he would give her anything when she said please, he was so sure.
She finally got his jeans undone and it spurred him to action, undoing her own and pushing them down to reveal her panties - lovely, unassuming, but perfect - and as they stood he couldn't help the way his hand reached between them and lightly touched between her thighs, waiting to see her reaction. She wouldn't be standing for long if he had his way. “Anything,” Emilia repeated, her voice not much more than a breathy sigh against his lips. She reached into his jeans, palming through his underwear. Her fingers ran up the hard length, though she stopped for a moment, when his hand touched between her thighs. Without conscious thought or effort she shifted her hips, wanting to give him room, wanting him to touch her, wanting him to feel what he was doing to her… wanting him. “Rob,” she murmured again, her fingers now moving to the waist of his boxer briefs, sliding under and down to close around the warm, silky-soft hardness. It was barely a thought when his arms came around her, when she touched him, and he didn't care that that contact stopped when he swept her aside and bent her down, sliding her down to the ground beneath him. He followed her, licking his lips and moving his body to lie on top of her lightly considering his sheer mass and weight and the potential for rocks beneath the blanket. But then he was on top of her and his fingers found her panties and moved them aside to tease at her lips before delving into her heat and he was pretty sure he shuttered himself at the feeling even if her hands weren't on him anymore. Their jeans were tangled at their feet and her sweater was tangled around her as his shirt billowed in the breeze. But his only care was for the way she felt - warm and wet and tight and fuck and he wanted her to come on his fingers so badly he might burst. "I want to make you feel good," he admitted, desperate for her to feel half of what she'd made him feel - even if he hadn't come, even if she'd hardly touched him, she'd touched him in a way that was entirely different and yet soul-shattering in it's own way. Not once was she scared that he would drop her, that laying down on the hard rock would hurt. Robert had the size and the strength to hold her and she had the trust in him to let him move her. The blanket felt warm under her, and as he joined her, she didn’t even think the rock felt that hard any longer. The breeze was enticingly cool, making his skin against hers feel scorching, and “Oh!” she gasped when his fingers plunged into her. She pushed her hips up to take him in further, to find that friction she was craving. “You do,” she assured him, moaning as his fingers moved inside of her. “Oh, Rob, you do.” Reaching for him, she pulled him down for a kiss, wanting him closer, wanting to feel him against her as he kept building that pleasure
Her hips bucked as she rode his fingers, and her eyes kept closing, though she wanted to watch him, wanted to see that look in his eyes that made her feel not just seen, but wanted, needed. Robert watched her every move, her every little twitch and sigh and reaction. He wanted to know what she liked, wanted to memorize her body, and be able to hear her react and cum over and over again. He couldn't even blink, as his fingers worked furiously to bring her to completion. He wanted to see her face as she came for him and he told her as much, his voice low and rumbling in his chest. "Cum for me," he begged, all doubt and worry and angst gone from his voice.
As she fell over the edge, he watched in awe, his fingers moving of their own accord without thought from him. It was beautiful - stunning, and he whispered all the words, too many words and yet not a single one of them really told her what she looked like when she did that. When she orgasmed and lost control at his command.
And then he reached for his boxer briefs and pushed them down, joining his jeans at his ankles, kissing her throat to the top of the sweater as he did, sloppy and haphazard and desperate. "I need you," he admitted. His voice! She had liked his voice since the first time they spoke. But hearing it now, when she was right on the brink brought her fascination with it to a whole different level. She reached for his hand, moving with him as he sent her over the edge and his whispers made her uncertain if it was real or her imagination.
She was still gasping for breath when he moved, but his kisses drew moans from her and his voice, his admission, made her want to beg him to take her, to fuck her, that she was still here, that she was still with him and that she needed him, too. Shifting her hips, she drew up her knees as much as her jeans allowed in invitation. “I need you, too,” she whispered, feeling him push against. Reaching between them, she guided him between her thighs and sighed deeply when he pushed into her. “Yes,” she gasped, pushing up her hips, revelling in the amazing sensation of him filling her like this.