Fanfic Friday: Twin Rooms, Chapter Three [FINAL]
TW: mention of alcoholism and child neglect.
Thanks to @purple-roses-words-and-love for betaing.
This night did not go the way I thought it would, Trixie thought as she closed the door behind Doctor Turner.
“You should’ve hid the cheese and bread,” Christopher said.
“Don’t tell me you feel like eating,” Trixie said, sitting down next to him, brushing a curl out of his face, “not with your poor face like that.”
“I’m afraid we won’t be kissing for a while, Trix.”
“I know.”
“But maybe you prefer that,” Christopher said quietly.
“I’m all right with kissing.” She touched his hand. His fingers twitched against her palm, and drew tiny circles. “At least I understand how Doctor Turner managed to seduce a nun,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
Christopher raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t look at me like that. If you’d seen him naked, you’d surely understand.”
“Size is not everything, Trix.”
“They say that only those who have small… you-know-whats say that,” Trixie said, and laughed. It still sounded a little forced.
“You must know how untrue that statement is, Mrs Dockerill.”
Now it was her turn to cock an eyebrow. “Do I?”
He smiled a little sadly, and kissed her hand. They were both still a bit raw from earlier that evening.
I love him so, Trixie thought. She sighed, and rubbed her eyes. How different this night started…
***
They had eaten in the hotel’s restaurant, and talked and laughed.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” Christopher had whispered in her ear as they went up the stairs, his hand in the small of her back.
“I have an idea,” she’d answered, and turned her face so she could kiss him. Their marriage was still young, and they hadn’t tired of touching each other constantly. Trixie didn’t think they ever would.
“Let’s go to bed, my love,” Christopher had murmured between her kisses. She’d smiled at him, and wiped her lipstick from his mouth and cheeks.
Meeting the Turners outside their hotel room had only been a minor setback. In fact, even though Trixie would never confess this out loud, she felt a thrill at the knowledge that her friends were so close and could probably hear her making love to her husband.
She guided Christopher inside with a predatory smile, and almost tore his clothes from him as soon as the door was shut behind them.
“God, I love you so much,” he said as he peppered her hair and face and throat with kisses.
“Then help me out of this dress and show me,” she said, damning the zipper she could not undo on her own.
Christopher did as she commanded. They fell on the bed, their legs tangling. Her breath came in little pants already. She wanted his skin on hers, wanted him inside her, hitting that sweet spot till she had to cling to him, helpless and trembling.
“God, it’s cold,” Christopher complained.
“We could get a fire going in the hearth.”
“That takes too long, and there’s something I need now,” Christopher said, voice thick.
Trixie separated herself from him and went to their closet. “Here,” she said, and threw his pyjama to him.
“Not what I meant,” he said, but he put on his shirt anyway. Trixie slipped into her nightgown. The cold travelled up through the soles of her feet and nestled into her legs. She hesitated, then threw on one of Christopher’s jumpers.
He had pulled the covers over himself, and looked at her. His face was lit by the bedside lamp, causing his eyes to sparkle. “God help me, you’re so beautiful,” he said, voice cracking a little.
Will I ever tire from seeing his adoration? Trixie thought. She rolled up the jumper’s sleeves, pressing them to her nose to smell Christopher’s scent on her. She was enveloped by it.
“Come,” he said, and held his hand out to her, beckoning her to come to bed.
They kissed for a long time, his hand on her rear, driving her a little crazier with every thoughtless stroke of his thumb.
There were times when Trixie wanted everything all at once. There was a hunger inside her that demanded to be sated, a fire that roared and burned and licked at her with flames of desire and need.
She pushed Christopher on his back and straddled him, her mouth hot on his, his hands on her hips. When he entered her, they both gasped.
“We must be quiet, or the Turners…” Christopher whispered.
“Let them hear. I don’t care.” She rolled her hips. Christopher bucked up into her. She moaned and curved her spine in pleasure.
More, she thought.
Their coupling was heated and quickly led to its inevitable conclusion. Trixie bit the jumper’s long sleeve so as not to scream; she might have said she didn’t much care about the opinion of Shelagh and Patrick, but there was a difference between the Turners knowing their neighbours were making love, and them hearing this low little cry that was just for her husband.
Christopher held her whilst she trembled from pleasure. Enveloped in his scent and warmth, she felt delightfully heavy and happy.
“Trixie?” he whispered.
“Hm?” She was so sleepy. If she wasn’t careful, she’d drift off. She’d…
“Shouldn’t we start trying for a child?”
“A child?” She sat up straight, all drowsiness gone. “What on earth for?”
Christopher blinked. The smile on his face faded a little. “Why not? Don’t you want one?”
Don’t I? Do I? Confused, she shrugged. She brought her hand to her face, and brushed a lock behind her ear. She’d lie if she said she hadn’t thought about it. They had discussed it before their marriage, and had decided to wait a while.
“But I’m using the pill,” she said a little helplessly. She tore at her nail with her teeth. Her heart was hammering in her chest so forcefully it felt as if it would bruise. She couldn’t feel her feet.
Christopher took her hand and pulled it away from her mouth. “You could stop taking it.”
“No!” She shook her head. “I’d be a godawful mother, and I’d have to stop working, and…” she gasped.
“Calm down, Trixie. It was just a suggestion.”
“Nobody has ever calmed down when somebody told them to!” Trixie spat. She pulled her hand from his.
“Why are you so upset?” Christopher asked. “You’re a wonderful mother to Alexandra. Besides, you’re a midwife and have to deal with children and babies every day.”
“But I can give all of those children back! I can’t do that with my own baby. What if…” Emotion squeezed her throat shut. She swallowed, then sobbed. She wiped away her tears with her sleeve. It smelled of Christopher’s after-shave.
“What if?” Christopher asked, pulling her close, draping his arms around her.
She couldn’t speak, but Christopher was there. He rocked her a little, planting the occasional kiss against her cheek or throat or hand.
“What if it’s too much for me?” She almost choked on the words. “What if I start drinking again? I can’t do that to a child. I know what such a thing does to a child…”
“Oh, Trixie,” Christopher murmured into her hair. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“But you want to. That’s not fair on you. I always thought I’d make a good wife, but now…”
“You’re the best wife I could wish for, Trix. Please stop crying. I’m sorry I brought it up. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “I’m the one who should be sorry,” she murmured.
You’ve spoiled it. You’ve spoiled this weekend and this night and he’ll hate you for it, a mean little voice told her. You need a drink, it added. Disgusted with herself, she dug her nails in her palm till she almost pierced her skin.
Christopher took her hands in his and uncurled her fingers. He kissed her smarting palms. “I’m sorry, Trix.”
“Are… are you angry with me?” she whispered.
He rested their foreheads together. “Of course not, sweetheart. I should’ve picked a different moment for this conversation. We weren’t ready yet.”
She laughed a little. “We’re married.”
“And still it wasn’t the right time.” He fetched a damp towel for her swollen eyes.
Trixie put her head on the pillow. “I’m tired,” she said.
“Then sleep,” he said, and kissed her forehead.
She held his hand tightly till she drifted off.
***
When she’d woken, it had not been because Christopher was in bed beside her, but Patrick. The entire situation was so bizarre that she could not help but laugh. And wink. And toss her hair.
Pretending nothing is wrong, she’d thought as she winked at Patrick, hating herself for pretending to be merry, yet unable to stop.
“I’m all right with kissing,” she repeated when Patrick was gone and the silence between her and her husband had become thick.
“I’m glad.”
“Does it hurt terribly?” she asked.
“A little.” He withered under her stern gaze. “All right, quite a lot, actually. I think I swallowed a lot of blood, too, so I’m rather nauseous.”
Trixie fetched him some aspirin and made sure he downed the entire glass of water. “At least Shelagh set your nose,” she said. She frowned. “What were you doing out of bed anyway?”
“I went down to the reception to ask for some matches in case we wanted to get a fire going in the hearth after all.” He touched his nose, then winced. “I mainly wanted to clear my head.”
“Oh.”
Christopher stroked her knuckles, toyed with her wedding ring. “Trixie, about what I proposed earlier this night…”
“Don’t mention it. I was being extremely silly, Christopher. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, darling. It’s just that… Don’t you see how well you take care of me? You’re a born caregiver. It seems to be in your blood.” He smiled, then grimaced as the muscles tugged on his wounded skin. “I want you to know that you would be a great mother. You already are a great mother. There’s no need to be afraid.”
Trixie pulled her hand away, brought it to her mouth, and tore at a nail, chipping the cherry polish she’d applied that morning. “I love you, Christopher, but I…” Helpless, she shook her head. “I don’t think I want a child just yet.”
“And that’s perfectly all right.”
“And is it also perfectly all right if I may not want a child for a good while yet? Maybe not ever?” she asked in a small voice, forcing herself to look him in the face yet unable to keep her eyes from slipping away from him.
He remained quiet.
“I might change my mind, of course. I might change it at any time. Maybe I’ll want ten children with you. Who knows? I…” she babbled on, suddenly afraid of silence.
Christopher took hold of her hand and pulled it away from her mouth. “I married you because of you, Trixie. You are enough for me.”
“Gosh, I think that might be the sweetest thing someone has ever said to me,” she said, vision swimming with tears. She snuggled up to him and kissed his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered. She pressed her face against his warm throat.
“No shenanigans, Mrs Dockerill. My face isn’t up to it,” he quipped.
“No shenanigans,” she promised, “if you just hold me.”
“Always.”
***
They saw the Turners at breakfast next morning. They all seemed to hesitate for a second, then sat down at the same table.
“How did you sleep then, you two? That is, if you got any…” Patrick said.
“Once again: I’m awfully sorry about your nose,” Shelagh said, twisting the fabric of a lovely poppy dress Trixie hadn’t seen before between her fingers.
“At least he doesn’t have two black eyes. I look like the occasional panda when my mascara runs. We can’t have another panda in the same home,” Trixie quipped. She intertwined her hand with Christopher and kissed the back of it.
“What about you?” Christopher asked Shelagh.
She showed him her bandaged hand. “I just split the skin on my knuckles. It’s nothing, really, especially when compared to your nose…”
“It’ll heal,” Christopher said.
They were silent for a little while.
“Next time, we’ll make sure not to pick twin rooms,” Shelagh said.
“Maybe that’s for the best,” Trixie agreed. “The walls really were awfully thin…”
