Warning: This story includes erotic material which may not be acceptable for minors. We all know teenagers don't know anything about sex. Rated NC-17.

Aid and Comfort

By Franki Tollefson

It happened again as Joe walked out to his car. He needed to go home, get some sleep; he hadn't slept much lately. He should have gone when the bar closed, but he'd hung around. Waiting. "For what?" he asked himself. *MacLeod*. That was crazy, MacLeod wasn't going to show up here. Joe had spoken to Adam earlier, MacLeod was in France. He stopped halfway to his car letting the memories and grief overwhelm him. He'd learned over the last few weeks not to fight it. Let it happen, it would ease after a moment.

***

The battle...The Quickening. So different from any he'd ever watched before... The look on Mac's face as the fireworks faded away... The drive back to the dojo. He's heading home, maybe he's okay... The clash of swords, Richie, he's gone after Richie... The gun shots... Duncan "dead"; Richie in shock... Duncan waking up tied to the weight stand. I still can't remember how I managed that.... The anger... Hatred... "Run away. If you can." "Dead-man." ...The sword, I can't do this; I can't just kill him... Releasing him. Dead-man... The sword coming up... The confusion on MacLeod's face... The door slamming, I'm still alive...

***

As the assault of memories eased, Joe made his way to his car. He unlocked the door and pulled himself inside. Turning the key in the ignition, he heard the engine turn over. As he shifted into reverse, he reached over and flipped on the radio, turning it up, trying to drown out his thoughts. He wanted music, blues, but all he got were commercials. As he pulled up to a stop light, he reached over and picked up one of the tapes off the floor. He didn't check the label, just shoved it in. Anything was better than fast food commercials. As the music began, Joe smiled to himself. The tape had arrived in the mail a couple of months ago. A homemade tape of a small blues group he'd seen once in a bar in Paris. As far as he knew they'd never recorded, so he was thrilled to get the tape of one of their nightclub shows. The note said "Enjoy!" It was signed, "Amanda." He wondered again how she'd gotten the tape, but suspected he really didn't want to know. Don't ask a question if you don't want to know the answer. The music began to smooth some of the edges off his pain and he began to relax. He'd seen this band the night Kalas died. Amanda had 'subtly' chased him and Adam out. The bar was the first one they'd found with the lights on. The bar was pretty dirty, but the band had been great. Thinking about that night brought him back to MacLeod.

***

Joe just stood there in the dojo for a while, in shock over Mac's transformation and not a little surprised that he'd survived it. When he left, he planned to head home, but instead, found himself at Richie's apartment. Richie was there, sitting in the dark. He didn't answer when Joe knocked, but the door was unlocked and Joe let himself in. Richie was just staring at the floor; he didn't move when Joe came in. Joe watched him for a moment, then gently, "Richie, pack a bag. If he's hunting you, this is the first place he'll look." Richie didn't move. Joe raised his voice, "RICHIE, MOVE! You have to get out of here." Richie got up, went in the bedroom and came out a few minutes later with a backpack. He went out the door without a word. Joe locked up and followed. He put Richie on a bus to New Orleans. The kid didn't say much, just silently followed Joe's instructions. As he headed towards the bus, Joe called softly, "Call me when you get there, son." Richie spun around and Joe winced at the pain on the boy's face. "Don't call me that." Richie walked back to him and spoke quietly, deliberately, "Don't call me 'son', you're not my father. I'm immortal, immortals don't have fathers."

***

He had called when he got to New Orleans. Joe had seen the Watcher reports, he knew Richie was safe. *For now.* He didn't want to remember the grief in Richie's voice. 'Immortals don't have fathers.' It wasn't true, of course, Richie had a father. His father had tried to take his head. Joe shook the memory off as he pulled into his garage. Slowly, he pulled himself out and headed into the house. He'd been moving slower the last few weeks. It felt like he was dragging a weight around with each step. He was incredibly tired; he needed to sleep for a week. The thought almost made him laugh; he hadn't slept for more than an hour at a time since that night. He kept waking up; the nightmares chasing him from sleep. He went into his bedroom, tossed his keys on the dresser and used the bathroom. He planned to go straight to bed, but the memory of the nightmares drove him into the living room. As he stepped into the room, he reached automatically for the light switch. The lamp came on and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Damn it, Amanda, you scared the hell out of me," he snapped.

"I'm glad you came back out here. I thought I was going to have to climb into bed with you to get your attention." The words were teasing, but she wasn't smiling.

"That would certainly have gotten my attention," he teased back, sitting down across from her. He wasn't really surprised to see her. He'd expected her to come looking for MacLeod eventually.

"Tell me," she said softly. "Tell you what?" he asked, stalling for time and wondering how much she knew. "I've been calling the dojo for weeks. No answer. No answer at Richie's. I called the barge, he isn't there either. I know he doesn't have to check in with me. It's just..." she trailed off, looking anywhere but at Joe.

He waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he prompted, "Just... what?"

"When Killian locked him up, you thought he was dead. I told you then, 'I'd know if he was dead.' I know you thought I was just trying to convince you to check." She stopped, waiting for an acknowledgment. Joe nodded, waiting for her to continue. "Maybe I was. I don't know, but now...I can't feel him, Joe. It's like he just stopped being there." She took a breath and then asked, "He's dead, isn't he?"

"No. He's alive," Joe said quickly. When he saw her relief, he almost groaned. How do I tell her the truth? She looked so fragile suddenly. Fragile. Now there was a word he didn't often associate with Amanda. But just because she couldn't die, didn't mean she couldn't be broken. He knew that now; there were worse fates than dying.

Standing, he moved toward the cupboard he kept the liquor in. He poured himself a drink and brought her a small glass of brandy. He held it out to her, but she gestured toward the table. Setting the glass down, he turned to face her. She was waiting for him to continue. MacLeod was alive; she could wait for the rest.

Finally, Joe sat down opposite her. Taking a deep breath, he began. He told her about Coltec and the change in his behavior. He told her about Mac's concern for his friend and his final realization that Coltec was beyond saving. He told her of the battle, how MacLeod had taken Coltec's head and then he stopped. It was time to tell her about the Quickening. He looked at her, she was leaning forward, intent on what he was saying. How do I explain this? He stood up, setting his glass aside and moving towards the window. He stared out for a minute, gathering himself.

"Have you ever heard the 'myth' about Dark Quickenings?" he asked, his voice supplying the quotation marks. He turned to watch her and saw the look of recognition on her face; saw her take note of the way he'd said myth; saw the understanding and pain blossom in her.

"Oh... No..." She started shaking her head, fighting the idea, denying the possibility. "Not MacLeod. No..." Her voice broke and the tears started. She didn't make a sound, just sat there with the drops falling onto her hands. Joe walked over and sat next to her on the sofa. He didn't touch her, just waited. After a few minutes she looked at him. He could tell she was fighting against it.

When she spoke, he could hear the denial in her voice. "Dark Quickening? That's impossible. There's no such thing. You called it a myth; that's exactly what it is. Quickenings don't have personalities; they're just power, strength. I've been taking heads for over a millennium. There are no Dark Quickenings. He'd just killed an old friend. He was hurt, angry..."

"He almost took Richie's head," Joe interrupted her quietly.

She stared at him, disbelieving. "What? Richie? That's crazy, Joe. Duncan loves Richie like a son."

"It happened."

"It almost happened. You said almost. He didn't kill him. He's not evil. He—"

"I shot him." Joe interrupted again, this time more sharply.

"You what?"

"I shot him. He didn't take Richie's head because he was dead. I chased Richie out. He was gone by the time Mac came back."

Amanda stared at him. He could see she was still fighting it. He waited, staring back at her, willing her to accept what he was telling her. "What happened when MacLeod woke up?" she asked finally.

Joe told her. Her eyes widened when he talked about trying to cut off Mac's head. When he told her he'd turned Mac loose; she turned her anger on him.

"You released him? And you think Duncan's insane? You shouldn't be here. You should be dead." She was getting angrier with every word. "He'd just tried to kill Richie and you let him go. You've got the survival instincts of a kitten."

He put his hand on her arm. "It's okay. I'm fine. He couldn't do it. I have no idea why, but he couldn't do it."

She pulled her arm away and stood up, pacing. He watched her prowl the room. She moved from one place to another, pacing. Moving, but not getting anywhere. He could feel the tension and anger in her. Joe sat back and waited for her to calm down. There was something else. Should he tell her? It wasn't completely hopeless; they had one more chance to save him. Should he tell her what Adam was planning? Did he want to get her hopes up? Adam had admitted he was grasping at straws.

Joe glanced at the clock, trying to figure out what time it was in France. It'd be over soon, one way or the other. Adam, Methos, had found Horton's guillotine. If his plan to save MacLeod didn't work, Adam was planning to use it as a final solution. "I'll shoot him, Joe. Tie him into the guillotine and leave. I'll rig some kind of delayed trigger to drop the blade after I'm out of range of the Quickening." Joe was sickened by the idea, but he realized they didn't have a lot of choices left. If MacLeod's Dark Quickening combined with Methos' power, there would be no stopping it. The guillotine was the only way. Duncan would be dead, but the Darkness would be gone. It wouldn't be that much longer, a few hours maybe, before they knew. It would be better not to tell her yet. She'd try to talk them out of killing him. She loves him. She'd never give up on him. If she knew before it happened, she'd feel responsible.

Her pacing was beginning to get to him. "Amanda, please. Sit down before you wear my carpet out." She glared at him, but came and sat back down on the sofa. She sat quietly, letting the grief wash over her.

After a while, she turned back to him. "What about Richie? Is he all right?" she asked quietly. "I put him on a bus, sent him out of town."

"Thanks."

"For what?" He hadn't done enough. He hadn't been able to reach MacLeod.

"Interfering," she said simply, leaning back and closing her eyes.

The comment surprised him. He had interfered; he hadn't even considered not interfering. He wondered again when his loyalties had changed. He admitted to himself that they had. He'd chosen friendship over the Watchers. Sooner or later he was going to have to make a decision, quit the Watchers or ask to be reassigned. It may not be an issue anymore. He pushed the thought away. Adam's plan had to work. What am I going to do when this is over? Once Duncan was back to normal. Again, he shied away from the alternative. I don't want a new assignment. I don't want to go back to lurking in the shadows. I don't want to move away from my friends, cut off ties with MacLeod and Richie, close my bar.

The other choice was to quit. He hated the idea. For the first time, he wondered why. Why am I afraid to quit the Watchers? Why am I still a member? A disturbing possibility came to him. Was he staying in the Watchers to keep access to information he could use to help Mac? As disturbing as the thought was, the one that followed it was worse. Was he afraid if he didn't have access to that information that MacLeod wouldn't need him anymore? Did he believe that? No. Really?

Mac wasn't like that. They were friends. Joe needed to make a decision. Once Mac was back to normal, he was going to think seriously about leaving the Watchers. Mac would understand. Wouldn't he? He jumped as a hand on his arm interrupted his thoughts.

"You've been through hell. I'm sorry I yelled at you," Amanda said gently. She always surprised him when she turned gentle. He remembered how kind she'd been after Lauren's murder. She rarely allowed anyone to see behind the front she put on for the world. Joe always felt a little honored when she let him get a glimpse of her depth.

Realizing she was watching him with a concerned look, he said, "I'm a little tired."

Amanda nodded, knowing there was more, but accepting his reluctance to talk about it. As she leaned back, the light caught the dampness on her face and he realized she was still crying. Without thinking he reached out to comfort her. As he hugged her, she turned her face into his shoulder and began to sob. He didn't say anything, just held her and let her cry. After a while she quieted, but she didn't pull away. Staying where she was, she leaned against him, accepting the comfort he offered. After a while, Joe shifted, moving so he could lean against the back of the sofa. Amanda moved with him, almost instinctively. As he held her, he felt her slowly relax. Checking after a while, he found that she'd fallen asleep. Reaching behind him, he pulled an afghan over and covered her with it. Tucking a throw pillow under his head, he relaxed back and allowed himself to drift toward asleep.

***

"You'd better run out of here while you can...If you can." A sword flashing, gun shots, "Dead-man." "It's not easy to cut a head off, is it?" The sword flashed again, "Dead-man...Dead-man."

***

Joe sat up, gasping, the fear still too close. The nightmares again; everytime he fell asleep they came back. He felt a hand on his arm.

"Joe?" He'd forgotten about Amanda.

"I-I'm sorry," he said. "I haven't been sleeping very well."

"You really have been through hell, haven't you?" Amanda answered reaching to hug him, offering him the same comfort he'd given her. Glancing at the clock, he realized he'd only been asleep for a few minutes. After a few moments, they settled back again, too tired and upset to move. As Joe relived that night in the dojo, Amanda waited, quietly holding him. She was hoping he would talk to her, tell her what he was feeling. Moving her hands on his back, she started rubbing, trying to ease his distress. Her head was on his shoulder again. When he didn't pull away, she started rubbing more firmly. She didn't mean anything at first; she was just trying to help him relax. Trying to avoid thinking, she pulled herself tighter against him, hoping to shut out the thoughts that were torturing her.

Turning her head, she snuggled into his neck and felt his arms stiffen. Wondering what was wrong, she pulled back to look at him. Joe turned his head away, but not quickly enough.

He wants me. The strength of the response her body had to the idea surprised her. It took her a moment to catch her breath.

Joe realized she'd seen the warmth in his eyes and started to pull away. You really are losing it, Dawson.

As he started to stand, Amanda reached out, stopping him. "Hold me," she whispered. "Please, Joe. I don't want to think right now."

Joe looked at her for a moment. Without speaking, he pulled her back into his arms. He hugged her gently, but she could feel the tension in him; he was trying not to notice how she felt in his arms. Amanda understood and admired his loyalty to MacLeod, but she was beginning to realize how much she needed his comfort, his touch, how much she needed him right now. She pulled back until she could see his face. What she saw there almost made her laugh. His expression was nearly blank; he was trying so hard to hide his feelings. She reached up and ran her finger tips across the roughness of his short beard. When he didn't react, she tucked her feet under her. Leaning toward him, she brushed her lips across his cheek. Moving even closer, she rubbed her own cheek against his beard. As he felt her touch he moved his head unconsciously, pressing into her caress. His hands were still at her sides, he hadn't released her when she'd pulled back to look at him. As she leaned in to kiss him, he turned toward her, tightening his hands on her waist. Their lips barely touched before they were moving apart again.

Amanda pulled back, gauging his reaction. He didn't move at first. Finally, pulling a hand from her waist, he glided his fingertips up her arm, barely touching, until he reached her shoulder. Reaching behind her head, he gently pulled her lips back to his. As he tugged, she turned slightly, moving herself to fit against him, angling her head to meet his kiss.

As their lips touched, he slid his other hand behind her, pulling her body against his. Their kiss was almost desperate. He tasted her tongue as she ran it across his lips and into his mouth. Her kiss was incredibly erotic; he was amazed that a simple kiss could be so arousing. She's had quite a bit of practice, the thought rose unbidden, immediately followed by the face of her most recent lover. She broke the kiss.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing," he answered, pulling her back towards him.

"Joe?" she resisted his pull. "Tell me."

"I just feel a little..."

"A little... what?" She knew what he was going to say. He was feeling guilty. She was Duncan's lover. She was upset. He was taking advantage. She was ready to answer his doubts. She knew what she was doing; neither she nor Duncan had ever made any promises of fidelity. She wanted, needed, to be with Joe right now.

She was taken by surprise when he went on, "A little... inadequate."

"Inadequate?" she repeated, clearly puzzled.

Joe looked away, embarrassed. She was still so close, he could feel the heat from her body; feel his body responding to it. "I'm not MacLeod..."

"I know," she interrupted, clearly amused.

"Let me finish... please?" She waited. "All of a sudden, I feel like an inexperienced virgin."

"Is that bad?" He knew she was teasing him. He almost laughed, but he needed to say this. "I don't have Duncan's experience...I'm not in the kind of shape he's in... I'm..." He trailed off, gesturing towards his legs, trying to make her understand.

That surprised her. She didn't care about any of that, especially not the last. What could she say to convince him she wanted this? She didn't want to get into a deep discussion, she just wanted him to relax.

"It's okay, Joe," she said with a little grin. "It's not your toes I want to make love with."

He looked at her for a moment, knowing she was still teasing him, but also understanding she was speaking the truth. 'Make love with.' The phrase drove all rational thought from his mind and he pulled her back to him.

They kissed again, but it was different this time. Before, neither of them had been sure how far they'd let this go. Raising her hands to his chest, she began to unbutton his shirt. As she got to the bottom, she tugged a little to untuck it from his pants. Reaching up, she pushed it off his shoulders. They broke the kiss while he pulled his arms out of the sleeves. He started to kiss her again, but she moved down, kissing across his chest. Moving her fingers to one of his nipples, she teased it until it tightened. Replacing her fingers with her tongue, she licked the hard point, catching it with her tongue. She pressed the nipple against her teeth, not biting, just flicking it between her teeth and her tongue. The delicate almost-pain was incredible and he gasped quietly. He heard her chuckle as she moved to the other nipple. Joe let her continue for another minute, but that was all. He needed to touch her; to give her back some of what she was giving him.

Pulling her up where he could see her face, he ran a finger down the side of her throat to the neckline of the black dress she was wearing. Quickly, he unbuttoned the top button and leaned in to kiss the newly-bared skin. When he felt her shiver, he smiled to himself. He finished unbuttoning her dress and she pulled it over her head. The bra she was wearing was tiny, much too delicate to do the job for which it was intended. I should have paid more attention when she was pacing earlier.

The thought dissolved as Amanda reached behind her and unfastened the clasp. Sliding the straps down her arms, she let the bra fall between them. He gazed at her for a moment without touching, taking note of the black panties and garter belt. This dream is certainly an improvement over the nightmares.

Pulling her back to him, he kissed her again and moved his hand to her breast. Cupping it gently, he rubbed his thumb along the side. He came close to her nipple, but avoided touching it. Teasingly, he let his thumb circle her aureola, waiting for a response. As he moved closer to the taut peak, her kiss failed. She pulled away, lowering her head to his shoulder. Eyes closed, she concentrated on the sensations he was causing. Without her kiss, Joe was free to give her breasts his full attention. His other hand came up, lifting her second breast carefully. He ran his thumbs between the soft mounds. Moving his hands, he ran his palms across her nipples. He heard her quiet moan and leaned down to kiss her shoulder. Moving lower, he kissed the top of one breast just where the swell began. Turning his head, he did the same to the other.

Unable to wait any longer, she moved, brushing her nipple against his lips. Lifting the breast with his hand, he took the nipple between his lips. He licked at it, teasing it with his tongue, then sucked gently on it. As her hand moved behind his head, guiding him, he sucked harder, carefully catching the nipple between his teeth.

When he felt a tremor go through her, he slid his free hand up her thigh. Deliberately, he ran a single finger over the bare skin above the stocking. The touch made her wonder for a moment what had made her put on stockings instead of pantyhose. She certainly hadn't expected this. She stopped thinking as he moved his lips to her other breast.

As he teased the nipple with his tongue, he increased the pressure of his hand on her thigh. The touch of one finger was replaced by his hand, gently squeezing. He let his fingers slide deeper between her legs, touching the soft skin on her inner thigh. She was still on her knees. Wanting more access, he pulled away. Wrapping a hand around her hip, he tugged gently, encouraging her to move.

She let him guide her, shifting off of her legs and stretching them out in front of her. When she was settled back on her bottom, he kissed her again. While she responded to the kiss, he moved his hand back to her legs. He slid his fingers between her thighs. Increasing the pressure a little, he encouraged her to open to him. As her legs relaxed apart, he moved his hand higher, gently squeezing.

As his hand brushed against the silk of her panties, Amanda's kiss became more intense. She caught his lower lip between her teeth, biting gently and then sucking to distract him from the mild discomfort. He touched her through her panties. When she moved toward him, he increased the pressure. As his fingers passed over her clitoris, she broke the kiss again.

Running his free hand along her jaw, he tipped her head back, giving himself access to her throat. She let him kiss her for a moment, then pulled away, needing to touch him. Slowly, she slid her hands across his chest and down to his belly. Letting her hand drop lower, she felt his erection through his slacks. She pressed gently against the bulge and felt him push into her hand. The distraction of her hand caused his own caresses to falter. Reaching for the waist band of her panties, his hand slowed, his attention diverted by the rhythm of her touch. She stroked him gently. Her touch was incredible, the rhythm was enough to drive him crazy, but the pressure was too light to cause him to peak. Amanda reached toward the fastening on his slacks and he caught her hand.

"I'll do it," he said, a little too sharply. She stared at him, confused, not understanding why he was stopping her. As she pulled her hand back, it brushed across his thigh and she felt the ridge where the prosthesis ended. She saw him tense and realized why he wanted to finish undressing himself.

"Would you be more comfortable in bed?" she asked softly.

He stared at her for a moment, then nodded. She stood up and helped him up beside her. Reaching down, she picked up his cane and handed it to him.

Getting a mischievous look on her face, she said, "Race you."

The taunt caught him off guard and he laughed softly. Reaching out, he pulled her back to him. She tipped her head back and he kissed her again.

When they got to his bedroom, he moved to the bed and pulled back the covers. Turning back to her, he sat down. Catching her hand, he pulled her toward him. "Come here."

When she was standing in front of him, he wrapped his arms around her, pressing his face into her breasts. He just held her for a moment. Releasing her, he reached up and cupped her breasts. Moving his lips from one to the other, he kissed and sucked at the hard nipples until he felt her knees begin to give way. Letting her go, he reached down to unfasten his pants.

Seeing what he was doing, she knelt down in front of him and placed her hands at his knees. He covered her hands with his and tried to gently pull them away. manda waited, not letting him move her hands. After a few moments he sighed and let his hands drop.

Given permission, she deliberately ran her hands up his thighs. She felt the prostheses, the ridge where they connected, and finally, his legs. Moving slowly on, she slid her hands up until they were cupping his erection. Rubbing her hands over the hard bulge, caressing, she waited until he began to press into her touch. Continuing to stroke him with one hand, she used her other hand to start unfastening his slacks. She felt him tense and increased the rhythm of her touch. Looking up at him, she said softly, "Please, let me do this."

He was still uncomfortable, but he nodded silently. In a battle of wills, he knew he didn't stand a chance. To distract himself, he reached out, brushing his fingers along her cheek. Moving lower, he touched her throat. Lower still, his hand closed gently on her breast. Feeling the tightness of her nipple, he began to roll it between his finger and thumb.

Trying to ignore what he was doing, Amanda finished opening his slacks and reached inside. She squeezed him gently through his briefs. Slipping her hand inside, she ran her finger along the taut skin of his erection. At her touch, he moaned under his breath, unable to form words. She reached in further and wrapped her hand around him. Using her other hand to adjust his pants and briefs away, she freed him. She continued to stroke him for a moment, then leaned in to take him in her mouth. She hesitated just before her lips touched him. After a moment she sat back on her heels.

Joe waited, confused and a little concerned by her distraction. Her expression was familiar, causing him to wonder if there was another immortal nearby. No. She wasn't looking around. She was looking inside, concentrating on something she was feeling. After a moment, her eyes focused.

"I can feel him, Joe. He's okay, I don't know how I know, but I know."

Joe felt the relief flood over him. He didn't understand the connection between MacLeod and Amanda, but he'd seen too many things to have any trouble accepting it. The spring must have worked.

He noticed her staring at him and realized he'd spoken outloud. He could see from her expression that he had some explaining to do. How would he explain Adam's plan to her? While he was thinking, he reached down and refastened his slacks.

Amanda didn't say anything, just stood and walked across the room. Picking up his robe from a chair, she slipped it on. Coming back, she sat next to him on the bed, waiting.

"Adam had a plan," Joe started. "He thought he might be able to save MacLeod."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to build your hopes up. Adam didn't really think it would work. He had a fallback plan. I didn't want you to know about that until it was over."

"Fallback plan?"

He told her about the spring. Then, taking a shuddering breath, he told her about the guillotine. He spoke quietly, unsure how she would react. When he finished, Amanda just nodded. "That makes sense, if their Quickenings had combined..."

Joe saw with some relief that she understood. He relaxed for a moment, then realized the position they were in. She was incredible, but... she was Duncan's. They might not want to admit it, but Joe wasn't going to kid himself. He couldn't do this. He looked at her and started to speak. Seeing his expression, she knew what was coming. She held her hand up, not wanting to hear what he was going to say.

"Can I borrow your sofa? I'm exhausted," she asked gently.

He nodded, relieved.

Amanda stood up and headed for the door. Reaching for his cane, Joe pulled himself up. Glancing at the door, he saw her still standing there watching him. He waited for a moment, but she sighed softly and turned away. Realizing she was disappointed, a small thrill went through him.

Joe went into the bathroom, brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed. Coming back out, he finished undressing. Tossing his pants at the chair, he removed his legs and dropped them on the floor. Exhausted, he lay back, pulling the covers over him. Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep.

It only took him a moment to realize Amanda wasn't the only one who was disappointed. He was still far too aroused to fall asleep. The temptation to call to her, to ask her to come back, nagged at him. He knew he wouldn't, but he also knew he wasn't going to get any sleep in this state. Before he realized what he was doing, his hand had moved down to his groin. He wasn't completely erect anymore, but running his palm over himself a couple of times fixed that. Sliding his fingers along the underside, he teased himself.

He wasn't sure when he started imagining it was her hand touching him again. He'd been so aroused before, it didn't take much to get back there. He wrapped his hand around his erection squeezing gently for a moment and then beginning the firm stroking he was aching for. As hard as he was, there was still loose skin that moved with his hand. He stroked up to the end, sliding his palm over the tip a bit and then back down. Yes...

He could feel her again, taste her breast. As he remembered what she'd done to his nipples his other hand moved up to tease and pinch them. He didn't let up on the stroking, pushing himself closer to the release he'd been building toward for what seemed like hours. He realized how close he was and changed the rhythm some, wanting to hold off a little longer. He let his mind go back again to her. How he'd felt as she'd started to take him in her mouth. How he'd wanted that, wanted to feel her mouth on him. Part of him was relieved that she'd stopped before. It was a step past foreplay; a line would have been crossed. He couldn't stop himself from imagining what it would have been like, though. He imagined her warm mouth on him. Imagined the tongue that had driven him crazy in his mouth, doing different, more intimate things to him. As he thought about her mouth on him, the speed of his stroking increased. So close... So... The first shudder hit him and he felt himself lose control. Amanda, her name echoed in his mind. Biting his lip, he managed to keep his voice to a whisper. He felt his semen begin to spill out over his hand and the sheets. The spasms shook his entire body, causing his body to curl up, his head to raise from the pillow. He kept up the stroking, not wanting, or able, to stop until the sensitivity forced him to move his hand.

As he became aware of his surroundings again, he realized that he'd been moving causing the bedsprings to make soft sounds. He groaned to himself, worrying as he relaxed back into the pillow. Had she heard the bedsprings? Had she heard him whisper her name? He listened for a sound from the other room. Was she awake? He could hear something. The sound was so quiet, he wasn't even sure he was hearing it. Rhythmic... Was she pacing again? Should he go check on her? He lay there for a moment trying to decide. Just as he was about to sit up, he heard a soft gasp. After a moment, he heard her take a deep breath, followed by the softest whisper. "Joe...."

end. E-mail Franki Tollefson with comments.

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