Preface

the unused portion
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/44275402.

Rating:
Explicit
Archive Warning:
No Archive Warnings Apply
Category:
F/M
Fandom:
Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Relationship:
Nancy Drew/Ned Nickerson, past Nancy Drew/Don Cameron
Character:
Nancy Drew, Ned Nickerson, Edith Nickerson
Additional Tags:
First Time, Bonding, Sharing a Bed, Telepathy, Empathy, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Oral Sex, Woman on Top
Language:
English
Stats:
Published: 2023-01-15 Words: 7,365 Chapters: 1/1

the unused portion

Summary

Nancy and Ned have finally decided to take their relationship to the next level, but Ned wants Nancy to be sure she has some idea of what she's getting into.

Notes

the unused portion

"Want to go for a walk?"

Nancy glanced over at Ned, a small smile on her lips. "Well, I did just have an extra slice of cheesecake..."

"Hush," Ned said, sliding his arm around her waist and giving her a little squeeze. "You look amazing."

The borrowed vacation house was small in comparison to some of the places they had stayed together, but it was newly renovated and lavishly decorated. From the outside it looked unremarkable, but the interior was all sunlit blonde wood, plush overstuffed furniture, and rugs so deep Nancy had just dug her toes in with joy on walking in. She had given the deep soaker tub a happy glance after dropping off her bag, too. The patio was on the lake side, and even had a shower off to the side for rinsing off after a dip in the lake. Right now, since night had fallen, the twinkling white lights twined around the patio's columns were on. It looked beautiful.

"Maybe just here," she suggested.

He smiled. "That sounds perfect."

Nancy was incredibly keyed up. She couldn't help it. Every time Ned touched her, smiled at her, dropped his voice and gave her a smoldering look, Nancy felt her jittering excitement ramp up a little.

They had decided to, at their next opportunity, share a bed—and tonight was that night. The anticipation had been almost unbearable. Nancy had agonized over her choice of lingerie, and had even asked for Bess's opinion. Bess, for her part, was incredibly happy that Nancy was finally taking this step, given how disastrous that single night with Don had been. Nancy had thought it was the right choice at the time, and Bess had told Nancy that it would be better with a good partner, but Nancy just hadn't been able to believe her—not until Ned.

She wanted tonight to be good. She wanted it so much that she was sick with it, and she both wanted it to be over and wanted to savor it. She wanted to prove to herself that the first time had been a fluke, that she would actually enjoy sex, with the only man she had ever loved this much.

Going outside to look at the lake, even a delay of that long, was enough to make her feel like she was coming out of her skin. But he linked their fingers as they walked out, and that kick of adrenaline was incredible.

They had lingered over dinner for a long time, at least in her admittedly anxious estimation, so the night sky was perfectly black and awash in stars, and the lakeshore was entirely deserted. The only sound was insect calls, and the occasional distant thrum of a motor from the nearby roadway.

Ned didn't release her hand when they sat down in the faint glow of the white lights; a motion-detecting light snapped on nearby, and she was able to see his face—and the nervousness there.

Her heart skipped a beat. Of course he was nervous, though. He wanted this to be as good as she did.

"Okay. If you still want to do this, I have condoms and lube in my bag."

Nancy smiled. "Of course I do."

Ned shook his head. "I... thought about not telling you," he said, and she felt that faint hesitation again. That split second of misgiving. "But it wouldn't be fair. I don't know what's going to happen tonight."

Nancy's eyes widened. According to Bess, and Nancy had come to believe it too—part of the reason her... well, whatever word she could apply to it, maybe encounter... with Don had been so horrible had been their complete lack of experience. Neither of them had ever been with anyone else. And that night had tossed a ton of iced water onto her feelings for Don.

"I... but it's not your first time?" she said, tilting her head, one eyebrow rising.

Ned smiled. "Okay, from that perspective—no. This won't be my first time."

Nancy released a tremulous, relieved breath. "Okay. Then I think we'll be fine. As long as we take it slow."

Ned stroked his thumb over the back of Nancy's hand, then sighed and released it, dry-washing his face with his palms. "I have to tell you something I've never told anyone, and it's going to sound absolutely nuts. I'm not sure you'll believe me, but I want you to trust me..."

"I do. You know I do. With my life." She put a lot of confidence in her voice. She had agreed to take a very important step in her relationship with him. She had faith in him to prove her judgement correct.

He glanced away for a long moment and seemed to be gathering his thoughts. Then he focused on her again, and her cheeks warmed a little. 

"My family... we... I guess you could say that we're empathic."

Nancy smiled. "Sometimes, maybe," she said.

He shook his head slightly, still keeping his gaze on her, as though searching for any sign that she did—or didn't—believe him. "It depends on the person, and on probably a bunch of other things, like compatibility. But the longer I'm around someone and the deeper our friendship is, the more I'm able to pick up on... well, not thoughts, but hunches. At a basic level, it's minor. Does that seem plausible to you?"

Nancy crossed her legs and stroked her thumb over her knee, over and over, considering. "It's plausible that as you got to know someone, you would be able to predict their behavior, maybe even their mindset," she said. "Some people are better at it than others. We both know that."

He nodded slowly, as though congratulating her on following him this far, but his gaze was still intense. "When one of us finds someone that we're very compatible with, that connection can be... more than empathic. Apparently it can become something close to telepathy."

"'Apparently'?" she repeated.

He shrugged. "I only have their word for it, and everyone who's alive in my family today, well, it's picking up on emotions, hunches, maybe a stray thought here and there. Nothing like in the movies, where it's like tuning into a radio station or something."

"But they really believe they can read each others' minds." She stared at him, fascinated, but also—it couldn't be real. It was a fun thought experiment, for sure.

He smiled briefly. "When I say very compatible, I mean in the context of a romantic relationship," he said. "That bond forms over time. And one part of it is exchange of bodily fluids."

She raised an eyebrow. "Like kissing."

He nodded. "I've made out with girls who, for me, weren't a blip on that—internal radar. Like it's some quality or gene or facet of perception they were lacking. And I've been around some who definitely pinged on that radar.

"But none of them have ever been the absolute forest fire that you are."

She blinked.

"When we're around each other—it's always like this, with the close friends I have too—the longer we're around each other, the easier it is for me to have hunches about you." He shrugged. "If I concentrate, sometimes I can find you. Did you ever wonder how I could find you when you and Bess had just picked some random restaurant you'd never been before? Or when you were hiding in one shipping container out of a hundred?"

She just gazed at him in wide-eyed wonder and wordlessly shook her head.

"So, like I said... tonight, if you decide to go through with this..." He smiled briefly, but the gesture was one of anxiety. "It usually takes about ten—nights—to reach the fullest potential of whatever it will be."

"But it would start tonight."

He nodded. "There's an unspoken thing in our family that by the tenth time, you'd better be engaged or committed. And I..." He sighed, then groaned in frustration and sprang to his feet, pacing a few steps away. "The way I feel about you is just going to become more intense. What you are... it sings in me. We... my family, we get protective, devoted."

"Like a werewolf shifter mate kind of thing."

Ned snorted. "I can't say that no one in my family has ever said that, but we don't think of it that way. It's just... we've found our one. And the closer we are, the more we intertwine. It's not a conscious choice, not like that."

"What happens if... if you break things off, on the ninth...?"

"The first few times, apparently—and based on my own experience—it's not that much, not that bad. It hurts to cut things off after a few times, but if I've started sleeping with someone, I have feelings for that someone, so that's not unusual. Of course it would hurt to break things off.

"But if the bonding has really started, like if we were getting close to the tenth time—which, again, from all I know, is just some sort of rough estimate—breaking things off would make me suicidal, probably." He shrugged. "I haven't been there. But my family knows about it and they'd be able to get me through it."

"But you wouldn't be able to—I don't know, interrupt the bonding?"

"It fades over time," he explained. "It's not permanent. For my parents, for example—well, that's close to permanent. They've been together a long time, and their bond is renewed often. You and I, when we're together..."

"But sex—" She stopped, unsure of how to phrase it.

"Kind of jump-starts the process," he said with a nod. "If we want to find out our potential, that's a good way to do it."

"But you've already started."

He smiled and shrugged a little. "Couldn't help it. And like I said, at this point it's just strong, unusually-likely-to-be-right hunches. That's all. I can't read your mind."

"Or at least not any more than Bess or George could."

He nodded.

Nancy sprang up, her thoughts racing. "I have hunches about you," she said. "About Bess and George. So that means..."

He opened his arms. "I'm sorry. For us, this isn't reciprocal. My ability to... interact with you, that way, doesn't mean you'd be able to read my thoughts, or anything. Usually."

"Usually?"

"You're a forest fire," he repeated, his voice quiet. "I know that you have hunches too. You have an unusually high rate of correct hunches, finding patterns and clues no one else does. I've seen it myself.

"So maybe somewhere, in your family... you have some of this, too. Whatever mutation or element or ability."

"And that's why you can't predict."

He nodded. "If it were just me... I'm not going to lie that I've known I wanted to be with you practically since we met. For me, you... all of you, is perfect. I know that what I could have with you would be incredible. But that doesn't mean that you feel the same way, or that you want... that kind of intensity, with me. Because I don't know that it will be one-sided anymore."

"Plus you might turn into a protective asshole."

"Hey," he said, mildly. "I thought I already was."

Nancy chuckled. "You're not an asshole," she told him, reaching for him so she could wrap him in a hug. "But I get it. So, assuming that tonight goes well, it's like some kind of warranty, huh? I have until the ninth time to return the unused portion for a refund?"

"After nine times there will be no unused portion," he growled into her ear, and they both laughed. "You've got it, though. I can't say that I won't be able to read your mind, but I will promise you that I wouldn't do it to hurt you or upset you. That's kind of the way the whole devotion thing works." He smiled.

"You said bodily fluids. And condoms." She raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. During sex, there's so much emotion and excitement that I think it doesn't matter as much. Unprotected sex seems to be pretty intense, though. And we are not going to do that."

She shook her head hard. "But you're saying if I were taking, like, birth control...?"

"Hormone and emotional imbalances can fuck it up. Again, I've heard." He held his hands up, palms out. "But that seems to just make it weaker, not stop it." He sighed.

"You're taking this too awfully well. I'm not sure you believe me."

She pressed her lips together, considering. "I don't know if I do either," she admitted. "I understand that your family perceives it as real, which is another thing—unless, of course, this is all some elaborate prank."

His smile was crooked. "If I'd had total control, I would never have told you," he said. "For everyone it's different. I've never even approached that threshold with anyone else.

"But, for you..."

She reached up and smoothed her hair. "This is a lot," she murmured.

He nodded and ran his fingertips down her arm, over her hand. "It is," he agreed. "Like I said, this needs to be a decision you make, knowing everything. If you want to wait, I completely understand. And... if you want to talk to someone..."

She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

Ned excused himself, and Nancy took her first full, deep breath in a while, tipping her head back. While Ned was with her, despite all her natural skepticism, she somehow believed him, or at least believed that he wasn't lying to her. Now that he wasn't there, the—implausibility wasn't even the right word. Maybe, likely, they were just fooling themselves. A little better than average hit rate on hunches was nice, not outside the realm of possibility, and maybe they were just making a lot out of something fairly minor.

Maybe Ned wasn't the one playing the prank, so much as his family was. And maybe that "potential" he sensed in Nancy was just their attraction to each other.

She nodded slightly to herself, wrapping her arms around her middle. It fit all the data she had.

He returned a few minutes later with the glass of water she had requested. His smile was uncertain. "Okay."

When Nancy picked up the receiver, she was speechless for a moment. She had no idea what to say, or how to ask.

"Hi, Mrs. Nickerson."

Ned smiled again, signaling that he would be out on the patio. She gave him a little nod and relaxed slightly when he was out of earshot.

"Given what we're about to talk about, you can call me Edith. Hang on."

Nancy raised her eyebrows, but waited.

"Okay, that was two glasses of wine down. Ned told me you might be calling tonight."

Nancy chuckled nervously. "Oh."

"It's true."

Nancy blushed. "Are you..."

"James has it. He told me when we first started dating. And I didn't believe it either. How could I?" Edith sighed, then chuckled. "But the longer we were together, the closer we were, I couldn't just dismiss it as coincidence or lucky guesses."

"Can he... read your mind?"

"No. Not... well, dear, can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

"James can pick up on emotions really easily. Mine and Ned's. But... if you and Ned haven't slept together yet, I don't know how it will be for you. ...Have you?"

"We haven't," Nancy said, a little more quietly.

"Have you, ever?"

"Once. It was... well, it was not great. It practically convinced me to just never do it again."

"Oh, honey. I'm sorry. This—Ned told me that it's already begun for him, and that will make that part of it easier for you. Maybe not the first time, but he'll be able to sense what's good for you and what isn't. And... oh, believe me. The longer you're together, the better it will be."

Nancy shook her head. "I can't help thinking that... I don't know."

"Well, think of it this way," Edith replied. "You know Ned. You know he wouldn't say anything like this lightly, or lie about it."

"But if this were something that he'd somehow deluded himself into believing, that he knows what I want or feel when it's not true..."

"Mmm," Edith said. "I see what you mean. Does he do that often?"

"No," Nancy admitted, after a moment.

"Give you a well-intentioned but totally wrong present? Misread you?"

Nancy smiled. "No."

"He's an intelligent young man with a logical mind. So I'm sure him telling you about this must have seemed... like a dream, maybe. Completely out of character."

"Yes!" Nancy agreed.

"But, now that you're thinking about it... it does kind of make sense." Edith paused, and when she spoke again, her tone was gentler. "He really wants tonight to be good for you. He pays close attention to you anyway, so if it's easier to think about it that way, then just tell yourself he's picking up on microexpressions and little clues in your tone. It's close enough to what's actually happening."

Nancy had tensed again, but at Edith's words she relaxed some. That was true.

"He told you about ten. The rule about it."

"Yes."

"That goes for the two of you, too. By then you'll know. But I wouldn't advise you to wait that long to make a decision."

"Yeah."

"Is he nearby?"

"No. He went outside so we could have some privacy."

"Very thoughtful of him," Edith said, and Nancy could hear the smile in her voice. "Are you all right? You can be honest with him, you know." She paused. "And he knows, too."

Nancy blushed quickly then, thinking of all she had ever told him that wasn't quite true—and felt ashamed at the thought of his having to pretend he had believed her. Most of that had happened a long time ago.

But she was curious now, about whether he had ever used his abilities to do that to her.

After agreeing to a lunch date that Edith promised wouldn't include a detailed recap of the night's events, Nancy hung up and slowly crossed to the French doors. Ned was gazing up at the stars, and from the way he held his body, the set of his jaw, she knew that he was still anxious. Likely because she was, but maybe she was reading too much into it.

Nancy stepped out and approached him, feeling stupidly that she needed more time to think this through, but in reality nothing had changed. Ned was really good at anticipating her moods and needs; that seemed like a good skill for her partner to have in bed. He was experienced, so she wouldn't have to suffer through another night like her first, with Don, again. He had never pressured her into this, and he had always emphasized that they would use protection.

He had done everything right.

A part of her wished he hadn't told her. She was afraid now that his perception of her was overblown or incorrect, that he would be disappointed in this quality or ability he thought she had, especially since she seemed to be pretty unremarkable in other ways.

She touched his cheek, and Ned visibly calmed when their gazes met. He cupped her cheek too, leaning down to brush his lips against hers, lightly, then more firmly.

God. She had never realized what this had meant to him.

To deal with the tension she let herself go on autopilot for a while, because this was sweet and easy and familiar. Kissing Ned had always put her a little off-balance, but in a good way. He was incredible at it, and that was how he had first let her see his desire for her, and that had both scared and excited her. His tongue in her mouth, his body pressed tight to hers—

Their kiss became hungry, almost desperate, by the time they broke. Her heart was racing, she was breathless, and she could feel something—the lip of the patio table, maybe—pressing into her back. Ned's skin was so warm under her palm.

She ran through all the reasons, excuses, positives one more time. She had already seen him close to naked. He had already told her she could call it off at any time and he would respect it. Given what he had told her—

She was suddenly comforted by that. If Ned really could pick up on what she was feeling, and if that meant anything to him, he would stop if he sensed distress. And she couldn't deny that no matter how he was perceiving that distress, he had always been concerned on her behalf, wanting to make sure she was all right. Tonight wouldn't be different.

Then she felt his breath on her earlobe, his lips brushing against it, and she moaned softly, clinging to him when her knees went weak.

"Still think I might be crazy?"

She chuckled quietly, shivering as he nuzzled against her neck. "Maybe," she admitted. "But you have always been really perceptive."

"Mmm." His lips brushed the join of her neck and shoulder.

The sudden relief of the thought—I want to be naked with him—was searing in its clarity. She did trust him; she always had. The years of their relationship had built that. What he had told her didn't change it.

It wouldn't be painful or awkward or mortifying, and if things started going that way, he would stop and they would figure it out together instead of stumbling through it, hurting each other all the more in their ignorance.

"Take me to bed," she whispered, closing her eyes.

In response he kissed her again, deeply, and as though entranced she reached up and clung to him, stroking her fingers through his hair, pressing herself to him. Her head was spinning when she felt him reach down to boost her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, warmth rising in her cheeks as he carried her inside and closed the door behind them.

Ten times to get it right.

No. She had a feeling that, as he had said, tonight wouldn't be like any other—not for him, and definitely not for her.

She chuckled when he reached the bedroom's doorway. "Here. You can put me down. I need to put on my nightgown anyway."

"You most certainly do not." When she glanced up at him, smiling at the warmth in his voice, his dark eyes were tender and dancing.

"Humor me."

"Always."

From that moment, she didn't second-guess it, and she let herself experience the frissons of anxiety and nervousness without letting them challenge that growing desire. She wanted it done, but more than that, she wanted it to happen. Both gowns she had brought looked good on her, so she went with the black floral on ivory, and when she stepped out of the bathroom, his heated gaze rising from her knees to her eyes sent that warmth straight through her.

"You look incredible."

He was in a pair of black underwear and nothing else, the fabric molded to him, and she looked him over too. There had been a lot of darkness that first night, and she didn't want that tonight. "You do too," she said.

He sat down on the bed and patted the comforter beside him, and she watched him take out the condoms and lube he had brought. "You know how…" She trailed off, gesturing at them, with the trace of a question in her voice. Don had struggled with it, and Nancy hadn't known any differently, that not everyone did, until Bess had told her.

"Very much so." His dark eyes were so intense. He stroked his fingertips down her cheek, then grasped her hips and swung her into his lap.

Nancy laughed in surprise and delight, gazing into his face. He laughed too, and she reached up to caress his face, to trace the lines of it, smoothing his eyebrows, the edges of his ears, the shape of his lips.

"I love you," she whispered. "I have loved you for so long. I've been so afraid this would break us."

He shook his head, his lips still turned up. "Nothing will happen unless you want it. I promise. There's no... there's nothing we have to do tonight. If all we do is kiss until we fall asleep holding each other, I'll be happy."

"Naked?" She cupped his cheek.

"Very happy," he amended, cupping her sides, down to her hips. His gaze went from her lips to her eyes again.

And that pull, that magnetic connection between them, had her sliding her arms around him, parting her lips for the kiss he was already leaning down to give her.

She gave in, and when Ned moved to lie down with her, on their sides, she kept kissing him, stroking him. He stroked his hand up her thigh, and she shivered; when he rolled onto his back and slid her gown up above her hips, she pushed herself up onto her knees.

Feeling him against her was incredible. She settled on top of him once her gown was off, realizing belatedly that the overhead light was still on, realizing that she didn't care. This, this was so much better, this felt so damn good, and he was so warm.

And he was aroused. She was aroused too, and the feel of his skin against her nipples made her stroke and grind herself against him.

"You like that," he murmured, when the kiss broke, when she nuzzled his earlobe. "Can I take your underwear off?"

In answer, she reached down, and Ned chuckled as she pulled them off herself. He propped himself up and raised his eyebrows, and she nodded, watching him take his underwear off too.

"What did I tell you," he murmured. "You didn't need that. Oh, love. You're so beautiful, and I want you so much."

She nodded, gazing at him. "I want you too," she said, and felt the prick of tears in her throat. "I don't know what to do."

"I do," he said, his voice low, and he stroked her cheek. "Do you want the lights on?"

She nodded. "Please."

He reached for her, and they laid down again, first one slow kiss and then another, another, another. At first the caress of his palm over her side and back made her flinch and gasp; then she relaxed into it, her tongue stroking against his, her fingers combing through his hair.

"I want you so much."

And she didn't know what it meant for him, but she knew that she wanted it too, that it seemed right to loop her leg over his hip. He chuckled, and she pulled back a little, and saw the love in his eyes. The confidence and delight and need.

"I want that too," he murmured, stroking her hip. "I want to... can we..."

He moved her onto her back and she opened her legs at his urging; she arched, her fingers combing through his hair as he kissed her, making his way down her body. He took his time, caressing and stroking and lingering in all the places that left her breathless. The first time he closed his lips around her nipple and suckled, she whimpered, her hips moving restlessly under him. He scraped his teeth over the sensitive nub and she sobbed, drawing her knees up to cradle him. She was so tender and sensitive between her legs, and she needed him there, needed touch and sensation and him.

And once she was trembling, thrumming with so much tension that she wanted to beg him for release, he kissed her clit.

Bodily fluid.

She thought it fleetingly, but it didn't matter. She wanted this so much, and the stroke of his tongue, the suckling, had her begging, babbling at how good it was, pleading for more.

"God," he whispered against her skin. "Oh my God."

"Tell me what to do," she cried.

"You're perfect," he told her, and then he dragged his tongue up the slick lips of her sex before sucking her clit again.

She screamed as she came, her head tipped back, her heart pounding. She screamed in giddy relief and the unbelievable shattering joy of her climax, at how dirty and sexy and right it felt for him to have his mouth on her. He wasn't horrified or repulsed or squeamish; not that Ned had ever been those things with her, but… they had also never done this, either.

Then his chin, the barest hint of stubble, rasped over her arousal-swelled clit.

She came again, her hips thrusting as his finger slid into the hollow of her sex, as he licked her clit and then dragged his stubbled chin over it again. She was groaning, panting, trembling as her inner muscles pulsed around the penetration.

After one last gentle lick, as she relaxed past coherence and was merely a sentient puddle of sated delight, Ned sat up and, his gaze meeting hers, closed his lips around his finger.

Nancy shuddered. His dark eyes were intent. "Do you feel different?" Her voice shook a little; the aftershocks were intense.

"I feel very pleased with myself," he admitted.

She grinned. "You should. Damn."

He laughed and stretched out beside her, propping his head up. "No," he said. "It's not like that, I guess. It's slow and then all at once."

She nodded, searching his eyes, aware that her skin was tacky with sweat, that her legs were still sprawled open, that she could barely muster the will or energy to move right now. "That was amazing."

He smiled. "I love you."

The way he said it—it was quiet, but there was no doubt in it. Just confidence and awe, and tenderness.

She reached up to stroke his cheek. "I want to touch you," she murmured. "I want to be in as much contact with you as I can be. I don't know." She blushed, painfully aware of her inexperience. Already his tenderness and his expertise had overwhelmed her.

He rolled onto his back, and she laughed when he reached for her. "I can barely move."

"Here." He embraced her, then rolled onto his back again, with her on top of him. She closed her eyes, feeling as though she was soaking him in like sunlight, the warmth of him, and the steady throb of his heartbeat. She wriggled down a little and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

Ned groaned. "I'm... well." He shifted his hips.

She smiled. "I'm a rag doll," she murmured. "I'm not about to... do anything. I don't even know how."

"Oh, honey." He stroked her hair and she drew one knee up, slowly. His erection, which she was deeply curious about, brushed her inner thigh. "If you want to try, let me know. We'll figure it out."

She felt, strangely, absurdly, like her heartbeat was shifting to match his, that she was synching to him as much as she possibly could. There had never been time for this; it had been almost as though Don wanted to rush through it before she changed her mind, or maybe because he just couldn't wait, couldn't slow down. It wasn't... well, no part of it had been as she would have chosen, but that hadn't been Don's fault. He had done what he could.

But he wasn't Ned. No one else was Ned.

And whatever happened after this, if anything... this was comforting, reassuring. He wasn't going to tackle her and ravish her, even though he had just given her two incredible orgasms, even though she was naked and in full contact with him.

She closed her eyes and relaxed, completely. His fingertips were idly trailing up and down her spine.

Then he drew in a quick breath, and she could feel his heart beat a bit faster for a moment.

"What do you need?" she whispered, and touched his side, guided a light caress all the way down to his hip. "Do you need me to do—what you did?"

His hips shifted again, and he released a soft moan. "Only if you want to," he said, and she could hear the tension in his voice. "Pretty soon I'll deal with it myself, if you don't."

She pushed herself up on her knees, looking down at him, then repositioned herself and sank to him again. Her plush, slippery inner lips were in contact with his erection like this, and she moaned at the incredible sensation as she slowly rubbed her sensitive flesh against him. She found the right angle to drag her clit over his flesh and sucked in a gasp, then groaned.

Ned was panting. "Jesus."

"Tell me to stop," she moaned, and it was almost a dare, almost. God, it felt so good. "Oh my God, ohhhhh...."

Ned reached up and slid his fingers into her hair, and his hips arched. "This is really dangerous," he panted. "Oh my God."

"I finished my period two days ago," she panted. "I want it, baby. It'll be so good..."

He arched up and they kissed, deep and desperate, and she began to grind against him faster. She was going to come again before he was inside her—

"Are you sure," he gasped.

"Yes," she sobbed.

He reached down, adjusting his angle, and when she ground against him again he guided her. She cried out as the head of his cock slipped against the lips of her sex, as they guided him inside her—

Inside, she was liquid heat, plush and shivering in anticipation, and he was so hard, but God, it was right again. In slow inches, sharing slow sweet kisses, she took him inside her, until he was so, so deep and he felt so incredibly big in the tight grip of her sex.

"Oh my God," Ned groaned, and she stayed joined to him, her inner flesh pulsing as Ned kissed her hard. His tongue, his cock, his hands—

She screamed, a sharp inhalation of breath, when he wriggled his hand between them and his thumb flicked her clit. His other hand held her head, holding her in place so he could keep kissing her, and maybe the change was nothing he could sense, but his hunger for her was shockingly deep and intense and—

"Yes," she cried out, and pushed herself up so she could begin to ride him, in slow, cautious thrusts, shallow and incredible. She shuddered and tipped her head back as he kept stroking her clit and used his other hand to fondle her breasts.

"Jesus. Baby, I'm gonna come," he groaned.

"Yes," she sobbed in reply. "Please, please…"

It crashed over her, through her, and she shifted her angle and heard him gasp. It would be faster next time, she would be more accustomed to it, she wouldn't feel like she was impaling herself in some impossibly erotic way—

Because it was pain but the pleasure was so much more intense; it was the newness, the relief of being so wonderfully slick that his cock was a slippery rod that filled her without sharp grinding hurt, just tightness, just fullness that gently stretched her to accommodate it. Ache. That was it. She ached with him, for him, by him.

And they came together, panting, crying out, shaking. When his hips jolted as he spent himself, she closed her eyes.

Yes. There could be no more personal exchange, no deeper connection. He was hers now.

And the thought was so alien, so unexpected, that her eyes popped open.

Ned was shuddering, but as soon as she collapsed to him he wrapped both arms around her and held her tight. His heart was pounding hard; she could feel its vibration between them, its urgency. He was panting hard, and so was she.

Mine.

"Yes," he gasped.

And then, so naturally, so subtly that she chalked it up to her own internal voice:

Always.

-

They had sex so many times that long weekend that her shyness evaporated. It had no choice, really. With him, it was joyful and sweet, and knowing that he cared so much about what she liked and responded to made her more comfortable with telling him outright, with guiding his caresses, with enthusiastic response when he hit exactly the right place or found the right rhythm.

"So... how many times has it been?" she asked, when she was reluctantly sorting through her clothes, packing in preparation for their departure in the morning.

Ned laughed. "I've lost count," he admitted, wrapping his arms around her from behind and kissing the crown of her head. She closed her eyes with a smile, resting her arms over his.

It had never been like this. She had never known it could be like this.

Then she turned and drew him down to her, kissing him deeply, feeling the shift in him. It really was like he... recalibrated, for an instant, at the taste of her. When the desperation and need grew, he boosted her in his arms and she laughed in delight as he lowered her to the bed, his hips between her thighs.

"I love you," he said, perched over her, and then he grinned.

She nodded. "I love you too," she murmured.

Ned needed that tasting, but Nancy imagined that she drew the essence of him through her pores, through the radiance of his warmth. The sensation of his bare skin against hers was more than intoxicating, and she loved lingering in his arms after they were both spent; she loved stroking his hair from his brow, nuzzling against him, breathing him. It was an intimacy like she had never imagined. To be accepted and seen and loved, for their joining alone to not be enough, because there was and could be more.

Don had never stood a chance. Nancy was sure now that no one else ever would either. Ned had healed so much of it while showing her that that first time hadn't been a sign of anything to come, hadn't meant she was broken or incapable.

Maybe, if her first partner had been experienced, this would have been good too. Maybe. But when she gazed up at Ned, sighing out a moan as he moved inside her, she didn't think so. Maybe one day they would part and he would slowly lose that connection between them, the one that she could see subtly changing in his expression every time he gazed at her, maybe they would move on to different people, but it would never be like this with anyone else. It couldn't be.

He was hers. Her complement in every way that mattered, made flesh and warmth and fathomless love.

So when he leaned down again, she kissed him with as much passion and need as he kissed her, stroking her fingers through his hair, holding him tight.

After they reached a frantic climax together, one that left them both spent and panting, she closed her eyes and felt so ridiculously alive that she wanted to cry.

God, there's no way it hasn't been ten times. Oh God. His mom's gonna hate me—

Ned chuckled. This is still one.

Nancy, caught off guard, released a startled sound between a sob and a cry. "One?"

Ned pulled back, his expression serious now as he searched her eyes. "Shit," he breathed. You can—hear me?

She nodded, her blue eyes wide with shock.

"Oh God."

He smiled slowly, searching her face as though he recognized something different now. "I told you I didn't know what would happen," he said softly.

"But I thought—you meant—the first time—"

He shifted, rolling off her, and she moved to face him on her side. He looked pleased and sated and like his mind was racing. Maybe it was too quick for her to pick up, because when she hesitantly—

She didn't know. She didn't know how it had happened, so she didn't know how to repeat it. It hadn't been the way she had imagined. It hadn't been his voice. It had just been... knowing what he was thinking. It was so close to the instinctual wordless communication they shared at the highest moments of tension, when they were being held at gunpoint, when they were being threatened, when reading him correctly based on the barest flick of a glance or the twitch of a finger meant life or death. It was the shared experience of their long history, but... it couldn't be that. Because that couldn't be the reason here.

"When I said one, I meant—it's like... the change can only be so fast. There's only so much I can..."

"Absorb?"

He smiled and reached up to stroke his fingertips down her cheek. "Something like that."

"Like an inoculation. Or the opposite."

He laughed.

"Then how did I just..." She gestured. "I knew what you were thinking. I don't now, but... it wasn't in your voice or anything, just... knowing."

"And that's how it is for me." He searched her gaze. "It can't be from me," he said softly.

"What does that mean?"

He stroked the curve of her eyebrow. "It's one-way," he said. "So you have this gift too."

Her throat ached, suddenly. "And yet you know all about it." The words were hard to force past that lump.

He nodded at what she wasn't quite saying.

"Because if it were my dad..."

He put his arms around her and held her as she processed it. If her mother had this, had passed it down to her, but had never told her father... or maybe she had, but he hadn't known how to tell Nancy, or that he even needed to.

"It didn't happen before, that first time, because he and I weren't..."

"You didn't have that compatibility, no."

Nancy sniffled. "In your family, would any of you... be with someone, who wasn't?"

"It's probably happened. Casually, dating, of course. But as a long-term partner, mostly, no."

"Maybe she never told him. Maybe it... maybe it fell away. Or maybe it skipped a generation." She pulled back to look into his face, her eyes swimming. "Because, believe me, Dad never had this talk with me."

"And he would have."

She closed her eyes tight, pressing herself against him again. "I don't think it's sex for me," she murmured into his skin. "I think it's this. Is that possible?"

"Yes."

"How are you so calm?"

"Because I had a feeling. Because this has never not been a part of me. I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry."

"The hunches."

"You're very good at what you do. Extraordinarily good."

"So good that it can't be natural."

"All of you is extraordinary. To me especially. I told you that for me, you register as a forest fire."

"And for me... you're everything. There's no one else, and there never could be, and I... I want to be everything for you too. I was so afraid of it, and then, being with you..." She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "It was being afraid of this version of myself that I... that all the fear is gone."

He was nodding, his dark eyes tender. "You didn't want to commit yourself."

She smiled humorlessly. "Dumb, right."

He brushed a tear from her cheek with the ball of his thumb. "You've always had to be so strong," he murmured. "You've always been so alone. It's hard to trust other people. It's hard to let go like this. And it is... just staggering to be with you and feel how much you've grown to trust me. I will never betray it."

"You better not," she whispered, because that ache in her throat meant her voice would crack otherwise. "Maybe it's eight or nine weekends for you, but... I'm done, baby. I'm all in."

He shifted and then he was kissing her, slow and sweet.

"Fuck it," he growled, and she laughed through her tears. "Me too."

Afterword

End Notes

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