#and knew i had to make a vers for them.... SOON MILLY WILL JOIN THEM TOO!!! love and peace!!!

[ruporas]

tri-trans! happy#tdov 💘

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part  of Me - Chapter 2

Warnings: very light smut

Tagging: @thunderintheshadows​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​

It's shortly before midnight when she joins him outside; just beyond the back fence and gate that he and Ovi had built to keep the kids -or at least attempt to- contained when outside on their own.  Their property is private and secluded; just the kind of quiet, and security they'd been craving. Fifteen acres with its own stretch of private beach,  a vast area of woodlands to the left, just beyond the guest house that Ovi and Chloe share, and their closest neighbour two hundred yards away.  

In Colorado their 'thing' had been to end the evening out on the porch swing; it was often their only chance to actually carry on a proper conversation without being constantly interrupted by the kids. When they could temporarily stop being parents and just be Tyler and Esme.  The therapist had been adamant about it; that they both realize their roles in each others lives far extended raising a family together. That they needed to get back to staying connected beyond the realms of parenthood; important that the connection was not just physical, but emotional as well. At first Tyler had thought it was all a load shit; both what the therapist had said and needing to see one in the first place. That the change of pace and scenery would be more than enough to not only keep the connection between them and make it stronger. Not realizing until they had started sitting down to talk to someone just how fractured things actually were. He'd always thought that things were fine; that they'd gotten past the toughest and darkest spots and that they were nowhere near disintegrating and that if their problems ever got that bad, they'd be able to get through it on their own.

Once they actually started concentrating on things -the way they fought and the intensity in which they did, the horrible things that were said to one another- it became apparent that there was a lot repairing that needed to be done. It wouldn't been easy or a short fix, but at least it could be put back together.

The sand is soft beneath her feet; cool and refreshing as it slips between her toes. The beach itself is relatively unspoiled and remarkably preserved; the old owners never using it, preferring to just enjoy the views of the ocean and the remarkable sunsets.  Their road itself hasn't seen children in in over thirty years, and shortly after they'd move in they would routinely find notes and small presents for the kids in their mailbox from residents further down. About how nice it was to them see them out on their bikes or chasing one another, how great it was to hear their shouts and their laughter.

Mac lays beside Tyler on a blanket on the beach, raising his head to watch her as she approaches; giving small whimpering noises -his happy sounds, as the vet calls them-, tail beginning to sway back and forth.  He's grown like weed; not even full size yet but massive and strong. But despite the mail man's fear of him, he's surprisingly docile. Growing up with four kids that constantly love on you and never you leave you alone and always sneak you treats will do it. And he's loyal and fiercely intelligent; always sensing when one of his people may need a little bit extra attention.  Tyler's arm rests along Mac's back, hand slowly stroking the shepherd's impossibly large ears and scratching the scruff of his neck.

“You need to move,” Esme says, and points to a spot on the sand. “You're in my spot you stinky, hairy beast.”

Her husband doesn't move his forearm from over his eyes. “Are you talking to me or the dog?”

“You're not that stinky,” she playfully retorts, and then once more points to the sand. “Mac, seriously. Move. I know he's your person, but he's my person too and you have to share him.”

All it takes from Tyler is a ruffle of the fur and a “Move, mate” and the dog obliges; sauntering over to his master's other side, the curling up in the sand, making sure that least one of his paws is in contact with Tyler's body.

“Worst behaved dog ever,” Esme grumbles, and sinks down onto the blanket, lying on her side and tucking herself under her husband's arm when he immediately wraps it around her. His hand coming to rest on her shoulder as she places hers on his stomach and rest her head on his chest. It's soothing. The sound and smell of the ocean, the warmth of his body and how solid it is against her, the scent that clings to him; mixture of cologne, laundry detergent, and sweat. It's familiar, but remarkably him.

“Kids asleep?” he asks, and she nods.

“Every last one,” she replies with a content sigh.

It doesn't happen often; the three older ones falling asleep fairly early and easily, while Declan and Addie spend hours alternating who needs the most attention.

Her hand continues to rub his stomach; she likes the extra weight he carries there now. His body thicker than it was before. Even more muscular and powerful.  And she rests her chin on his shoulder and looks up at him, his forearm still over his eyes.

“Tired?” he asks, his palm slowly moving over her shoulder and down her arm, then travelling back up again.

“When am I not tired? Do you and Ovi work tomorrow?”

“Just a few odd jobs. I shouldn't be home too late.”

It had been an easy decision; getting back into doing home renos and general repairs. They don't particularly need the money, a large chunk of the five million left even after buying the house, all the furnishings, and doing repairs and upgrades. But he enjoys working with his hands; the finished results giving him a sense of accomplishment.  It keeps him busy and his mind focused on the task at hand, and having Ovi with him meant he could let the kid handle any personal contact with clients and Tyler himself  could avoid actually having to interact with people.

Her hand slips under the front of his shirt, finger lightly drawing a circle around his navel, and she feels him shudder against her when she runs a fingertip along the waist band of jeans.

He clears his throat noisily.  “Do you mind?”

“No, actually I don't,” she grins, one finger dipping underneath the denim, then slowly moving along his skin.

“Well you should,” Tyler grabs a hold of her wrist, pulling her hand out of his pants and then entwining their fingers together. “Stop.”

“Like you're not enjoying it.”

“That's the problem. I am enjoying it.”

“It's been three months,” she laments.

Sighing, he nods.

“Three months, fifteen days and thirteen hours,” she clarifies, and he opens his eyes and looks down at her. “What?” she shrugs. “You're not keeping track?”

He grins. “I may or may not have it in my calendar on my phone.”

She laughs at that, then buries her face in his neck; lips pressing a series of soft, feathery kisses on his jaw line, just under his beard.

“Would you stop...” he uses the side of his head to push her away, and shifts uncomfortably against the sand. “....knock it off.”

“You don't miss it?”  she refuses to be deterred, her free had coming up to comb through his hair as her lips find the side of his neck, the tip of her tongue trailing over the scar left behind from Dhaka.

“Of course I miss it. I miss it a fuck of a lot, but...stop...seriously...stop...”

“That's a first for you. I didn't think you knew that word.”

“You need to just calm yourself down and leave me alone,” he grumbles.

“My hormones are insane,” she pouts. “Like off the charts insane. And it's been three and a half months and I miss you.”

“How can you miss me? I'm right here. Every day.”

“No, I mean I miss you.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “You mean in the biblical sense?”

She giggles. “Exactly. What you don't miss me?”

“Of course I do. We just...” the frustration finally gets the better of him and he shoves her over onto her side, then grabs a hold of both of her wrists in one hand before lying down behind her. “...it's too soon.”

“It's been two weeks since she was born.”

“Which is way too soon,” he insists, and pressing a kiss to the back of her head, groaning when she slides closer to him, so that her ass pressed right against his crotch. “Really? Are you serious right now?”

“I think I know my body.”

“Well so does the doctor and he says it's too soon. So...” he has to pull his hips back so no more contact can be made. “...fuck off, already.”

“You're grumpy.”

“I'm not grumpy. I'm horny. And sexually frustrated. And you know damn well what you're doing right now and you need to stop.”

“There's other things we can do,” she reminds him.

“Yeah and I won't be able to stop at just the other things. So please,” he tightens his hold on her wrists and presses a kiss to her shoulder. “Stop. Be nice to me.”

“I was going to be very nice to you, But fine...” she dramatically huffs. “...if you want to have to keep studying alone.”

“I think I can handle another two or three weeks of 'studying alone'. That's nothing compared to three fucking months. You going to be good?”

“If you insist.”

“I do,” he says, and kisses her cheek. “Unfortunately.”

He releases his hold on her wrists, lacing their fingers together once again pressing their joined hands against her; eyes closed, face buried in her hair.

****

“I heard you met the hot teacher today,” she comments.

“She's about twenty years older than me but if you think she's hot...”

“You damn well know that's not who I was talking about. I mean Millie's teacher. The little blond thing with big boobs.”

“I didn't even notice.”

“Oh please. You're a guy.”

“I'm a guy that's not interested in meeting other women. So...”

“Your daughter said she was all 'touchy feely' with daddy.”

“She was not all touchy feely. She tried to touch my arm. And give me her phone number.”

Esme scowls at him over her shoulder. “Excuse me, what?”

“To talk about your daughter,” Tyler clarifies. “Because your daughter has a mouth on her.”

“Maybe because she takes after you.”

He snorts.

“She is all you and you know it. I am not taking the blame for her mouth. She is all attitude. Your attitude. She even has the same facial expressions as you. So I am not being held responsible for her being a smart ass. You can deal with that. You can give her shit.”

“I already did. I told her not to be so much like her mother,” he laughs as she attempts to elbow him in the stomach, then lifts his head and kisses the corner of her mouth.

“Millie says the teacher likes you. And that she's going to ask you out on a date.”

“Yeah? Good for her. I like you. So she's shit out of luck.”

“Six years and we're still at the like stage?” she teases. “I thought we'd at least be at infatuation by now.”

He grins. “We are way past infatuation, baby.”

“Do you think she's cute?”

“Who?

She huffs dramatically. “Millie's teacher. Do you think she's cute?”

“I think you're cute.”

“That's not what I asked.”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “I wasn't paying attention. I'm not looking to pick up so why would I?”

“You must have noticed if she was cute or not.”

“Baby...” he sighs. “...I'm not looking at other women. I'm perfectly happy with the one I have.”

“So you've never thought about it? Hooking up with someone else?”

“Have you?”

“We're not talking about me. I have no reason to want to find someone to hook up with. Maybe you do. It's been three months.”

“Three and half but who's keeping track?”

“And in that whole time you've never thought about it?”

“Esme, I don't want to fight. I just want to lie here and hold you and talk. Normal talk. Not the talking that leads to a fight. It's too late and I'm too tired. I have never, ever thought about that.  Not once in the last six and a bit years. Cheat on my wife because she's pregnant and can't put out? I do know how to jerk off, you know.”

“You said a long time ago it wasn't the same,” she points out.

“It isn't. But that doesn't mean I want to fuck someone else.  There's only you. There's only been you since we met. And it's only going to be you for the rest of my life. So stop...” he kisses her temple. “...don't turn this into a thing.”

“I swear if that teacher asks you out on a date...”

“No one is asking anyone out on a date. Your daughter is super paranoid. And she has a fucking mouth on her.”

“Then watch your fucking language around her,” Esme retorts, and they both laugh.  After several minutes she rolls over to face him; forehead resting against his, a hand coming out to push through his hair. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“That was a big step for you today. Huge, actually.  You haven't been able to anything like that in two months. Especially going into town with that many of the kids with you? At least not without an anxiety attack. Everything went okay?”

“Everything was fine.”  He doesn't tell her about the hyper-vigilance being in overdrive; noticing every little sound, every little movement out of the corner of his eye.  It hasn't been that bad in a couple of months. Whether he's learned how to control it or if it's actually getting better, he doesn't know. But being that alert and that agitated at the park had not been a good sign.  

“I'm proud of you,” she says, and presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “I know how hard you're trying. I also know how hard it is for you to go out of your comfort zone like that. And that you it somehow makes you weak; that you have the issues you do.”

He nods in agreement.

“You are far from being a weak man, Tyler.  You are anything but weak. Don't let your brain tell you otherwise, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, giving a small, unconvincing smile.

“You're brave whether you see yourself that way or not. You fight against your own mind every second of every day. And you win every time.  If that's not brave, I don't know what it is.”

He lays a hand on the side of her face and kisses her; long and soft, closed mouth open closed mouth. Then chuckles when she attempts to push her lower body against his, his hand falling to her hip to prevent it from happening. “You told me you'd be good.”

“Then stop being so good at making me want to do bad things,” she responds, and he presses a kiss to her forehead. They're silent for several minutes; listening to the sound of the ocean, feeling each others warm breath against their faces. And he once more places his forehead against hers, a hand on the small of her back.

“What are you thinking about?” Esme asks. “And don't say nothing because your throat always gets tight and you get those creases in your forehead.”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Stuff that you don't need to worry about.”

“I hate to break it to you, but your stuff became my stuff when you decided you wanted to get married. So it's technically our stuff now.”

“We're not supposed to talk about the kids when we're having 'us time' remember?”

“I don't think we're expected to totally stop talking about them. That's impossible. We have five of them. One is bound to come up in conversation. And I actually brought Millie up first when I mentioned the hot teacher, so that means you get to mention at least one kind now. It's only fair.”

He grins. “You have weird rules.”

“You expect anything less than weird? Buddy, are you new here? Our house is full of weird.”

He can't argue with that.

“It's about Tyler isn't it.” It's a statement, not a question, and he gives a nod of confirmation. “If we could just get in to see the doctor or find another taking new patients....”

“Maybe the one in Sydney isn't a bad idea,” he suggests.

“You're the one who said it was too far to go,” she reminds him. “And neither of us like the fact that she's pro school and pro pushing medication.”

“I do not want to drug my kid up. He's five.”

“But that's what they're suggesting,” she fidgets with the chain around his neck as she talks. “Or what this doctor told them we should do.”

“He's five,” Tyler stresses. “He's a little boy.:

“I know, but...”

“He's a little boy,” he firmly repeats. “And I'm not letting them turn him into a fucking zombie.”

“I don't know what more we can do without outside help,” she frets. “We've tried taking certain things out of his diet, we've given him supplements, we've given him punishments and choice rewards for good behaviour. So until we get to see who we want...”

“He is not going on medication. We already talked about this. You know how I feel. He's a little boy. My little boy. He's my son.”

“He's my son too,” she gently reminds him. “And you're not the only going through this, remember?  We're supposed to be in this together. It's not supposed to divide us.”

“There has to be something else we can try. Even if it means taking him to that doctor in Sydney.  Just to see what they say.”

“They're going to say put him on meds.”

Tyler sighs.

“I know you're mad, but...”

“I'm not mad. I'm frustrated. Millie and Tanner are doing fine. They're not having issues. They're doing better here than they were in Colorado.”

“Well, Tyler's different. He feels things differently. He always has. Tanner may be the sensitive one, but Tyler's the intense one. And he's been that way since he was a baby. A lot of emotions inside that little head and body of his.  He just doesn't know how to deal with them. Who does that remind you of?”

He stares at her pointedly.

“Don't even try to pin this on me. Millie and Tyler are the ones that are exactly like you.  Millie just isn't as intense as you two.”

“He told me today that he hates his brain,”  emotions chokes at him as he speaks. It's heartbreaking; to her that your kid thinks they're broken and needs someone to fix them. “That he hates how it works. That is doesn't work right.”

She gives a small, sympathetic smile and lays a hand on the side of his face; thumb running across his lips, knuckles brushing against his beard.

“He asked me if I would fix it. Fix him. How the fuck am I supposed to do that when I can't even fix my myself.?”

“He's not broken, Tyler. And neither are you.”

“What he's like this because of me? What if I passed something along? Like some kind of fucked up gene?”

“That's not how it works. That's not how any of this worlds. You didn't start having issues until you were an adult and started doing the job. It's everything you've done and everything you've seen. It's because you almost died. You didn't pass something down to him.”

“I hate this. For him. That he's going through this and we have no goddamn clue how to help him.”

“It's not that we're not trying...”

“Maybe we're not trying hard enough. There has to be other things out there, yeah? Things we can up on and...”

“Tyler, we have four other kids,” Esme reminds him. “They need us too. And we have a baby. A brand new one. And she needs us...both of us...even more. We've done everything we can for now. And don't even suggest pulling him from school because I can deal with that. Not with Declan and a newborn. There is no way I cope with that. And I already know you won't be able to handle it, so get that thought out of your head.”

“We can hire someone.”

“To do what? We don't even know what's going on with him.  We need to find someone that can figure all of that out. You know we can't take on anything else. You need be out there keeping yourself busy and I've got a toddler and a baby to look after.”

“So we call the people in Sydney and take him there. It's something at least. At least someone can look at him and tell us what the fuck is going on. Because this is bullshit. Not knowing how to help him. It's bullshit and it sucks. He's a little boy.”

“If that's what you want to do, we'll do it. If you think Sydney is the best option...”

“It's the only option. Right now at least. I don't want this dragging on and him ending up like me. Because I'm fucked up. I don't want that for him.”

“Okay...first of all...” she shoves him over onto his back, then straddles his waist. “...you are not fucked up. You have some issues, yes. But you're working on them. That's all that matters. Second, I love you. And I'm tired of you shit talking yourself all the time. You're brave and you're strong...”

Tyler rolls his eyes.

Scowling, she takes his face in her hands. “ You are brave and you're strong and so is your son. You're both going to be okay. And you can't convince me otherwise.”

Grinning, he lays his hands on her eyes. “And you call me stubborn?”

“You are honestly the most hard headed, insufferable pain in the ass I've ever met. But...” she runs her hands up and down his chest. It's been six years yet she still hasn't tired of the way he feels; all hard muscle and sheer power. “...you're my hard headed, insufferable pain in the ass. You're stuck with me. Sorry.”

“I can think of worse people to be stuck with.”

“I bet the hot blond teacher isn't one of those people,” she snidely remarks, and then shrieks when he abruptly sits up, wraps an arm around her waist and flips her over onto her back; a hand behind his head to avoid it striking the sand.

“Fuck the hot teacher.”

“That's exactly what she wants. I mean, I can't say I blame her. That's pretty much all I wanted when I first met you too, so...”

“So now the truth comes out,” he teases, as he kneels between her splayed thighs, and leans over her, hands on either side of her head, bearing his weight on outstretched arms. “Six years later.”

“Six years and two months, actually. But yes. Yes, it's the truth. I totally would have let you take advantage of me the same day we met. In that crappy little shack of yours. I no longer feel shame in admitting that.”

“You should have just told me then. I would have been game.”

“Oh right!” she laughs. “Hey strange Australian with the nice hair and even nicer eyes, let's fuck,”

“I see absolutely nothing wrong with that,” he grins.

“You would have thought I was a slut. And that would have made working together extremely awkward.”

“Why? We were fucking in Dhaka anyway. Wouldn't have made a difference if we fucked before that.”

“You might have decided  you didn't want to do it again.”

“Yeah....right...” he chuckles. “...that totally would have happened. I would have definitely been able to stop at just one time.”

His words make her think of G; that last conversation they'd had in the forest while waiting for Tyler to reach the extraction point with Ovi. Shortly before everything had just turned to pure and utter shit. How he'd playfully teased her about knowing exactly what had been going on in that hotel room for five days; that any single, red blooded male would have jumped on a situation like that and taken advantage of it.  And how'd he turned towards her; his face and his tone suddenly so serious.

“He's not going to be able to let you go, you know.”

She hadn't thought much about it at the time. Things were still so new and they still had a long road ahead of them when it came to actually getting to know each other outside of sex.  No one know how awful things would go; they all thought they had so much time left.  She and Tyler would travel together and see if there was the chance of something real developing; if there were feelings that extended past pure, animalistic lust. And G would return to his wife and they'd start the family they so desperately wanted.

And then everything changed. In the blink of an eye. G never made it out of that forest. At least not alive. And she'd end up spending the next few months practically living at the hospital; getting to know her future husband in the midst of all of the pain and the surgeries and the therapies.  And maybe, in a way, things were better because of it. Because they'd started things off in the darkest and most worrisome of places.   It couldn't get much worse than the immediate aftermath of Dhaka. Not by a long shot.

“What's a matter?” Tyler asks, when she squeezes her eyes shut.

“I was just thinking about something,” she opens her eyes and gives a reassuring smile. “About someone actually. G.”

He frowns.

“Not like that! Just something he said. When we were in the forest. I haven't thought about it in over six years.”

“What was it about?”

“You, actually.”

He arches an eyebrow.

“It was all good, I swear.  He was actually talking you up. Putting in a good word for you. And it must have worked. Because here we are.”

“Yeah...” he grins. “...here we are.”

He leans down to kiss her.  Longer this time. Deeper. Not pulling away when he feels her tongue slip between his lips and press against his teeth; allowing his mouth to open and meeting her tongue with his. It's the most intense kiss they've shared in three and a half months; complications in the last trimester making things complicated and worrisome and forcing all thoughts -and need- of sex right out the window. And he feels one of her hands in his hair, the other slipping up the back of his t-shirt, needy fingers exploring his muscles. “You shouldn't kiss me like that,”  he's breathless when he pulls away, and shivers when her nails slowly travel down his spine. “Or do that.”

“You kissed me first,” she argues. “So this is your fault.”

“Yeah but you're the one feeling me up,” he points out, back stiffening, teeth biting down on his bottom lip when those nails drift along the small of his back, just under the waist of his jeans.

“I can't help it. I can't help if if sexy lumberjacks turn me on.”

He chuckles at that, then buries his face in her neck with a frustrated groan.  “I don't think it's just sexy lumberjacks.”

“You're right.  It's just you in general. And by the feel of things...” she lifts her hips, so her body comes in contact with his crotch. “...you're kind of turned on too.”

“Kinda? There's no kinda in this.”

“There are other things,” she reminds him, as her fingertips -still under the waist of his jeans- slide around to his stomach.  “We just can't have actual sex.”

“I told you. I won't be able to stop at just other things.”

“Get it together, Tyler. You're almost forty one.  You're more than capable of stopping at the other stuff. Please?”  her mouth is against his ear; breath warm against it.  And his entire body shudders when she traces the outer edge with the tip of her tongue. “I just really miss you. And I really...really...really need you get me off.”

“You can't do it yourself? I've had to do it myself. For three months.”

“I could. But I want you to do it. Because I miss you and you're so good at. So very, very, very good. Please?” her teeth scrape against his earlobe. “Pretty please?”

“Esme....you know this is a bad idea...”

“How can something that feels this good be a bad idea? We're not having sex. We're just making each other feel good. Wouldn't you rather me do it for a change? Instead of having to do it for yourself?”

“I would actually,” he admits.

“Then...” her lips are on his neck now; kissing, sucking, biting. “...what the hell's your issue?”

“No issue. I just...fuck...” he groans, when her tongue finds that scar on the side of his neck. “...maybe we should go inside.”

“Let's stay here. I can actually make noise out here.”

He grins, then reaches for the ties on the front of her pants. “Very good point.”

Her eyes close and she gives a long, content sigh when his palm comes in contact with her pussy, and he finds her hot and wet; her entire body shuddering when he presses the tip of his index fingers against her clit. She won't last long. He can hear it in her ragged breathing, feel it in the way her entire body tenses, and how her greedy, frantic fingers pop open the button on his jeans. And he groans against her neck at even the simplest of touch; painfully hard and leaking precum, hips jerking against her hand when her thumb brushes over the engorged tip.  

It's like being a teenager again; frantically making out, hoping to get off before being caught, lasting just as long. Only a handful of minutes before she's demanding that he kiss her as the orgasm hits, all noise muffled by his mouth against hers. And when her hand tightens around him and picks up pace, he's coming as well, face buried in her neck as he issues a long drawn out “Fuck”.

Neither of them moves of speaks for what feels like hours, and eventually Tyler rolls over onto his back, a forearm over his eyes, his chest heaving. He'd missed it. Missed her. But it wasn't until now that he realized just how much.

She snuggles into him, an arm across his stomach, head on his chest. And he drops a kiss on the top of her head and softly strokes her back.

“Thank you,” she sighs, and then giggles, and he can't help but laugh.

“No. Thank you,” he says.

Another sigh, then raises her head long enough to place a kiss to his chin.

He pushes a hand through her hair, letting it fall to the space between her shoulders. “I love you.”

“So that's what it takes to get an 'I love you',” she teases.

The words come easily to him now, but the first eight months of marriage had been a struggle for him when it came to saying them. His first foray into being a husband hadn't ended well; he'd broken her with his decision to leave while their son was dying, but not before she'd broken him by cheating multiple times while he was stationed overseas.  It had made falling in love difficult, but had made expressing it even more difficult. Now he says it all the time. Never missing the opportunity to tel her. And vice versa.

“I do you know,” he says. “Love you.”

“I know you do,” she rubs his stomach softly, smiled up at him. “I love you too.”

He kisses her temple, then tightens his hold on her. Wishing they could stay like that...lying on this beach...forever.