Welcome Back

She watched him as he walked over to the dresser again. He grabbed a bottle of oil and a stool and sat at the foot of the bed. After warming up the oil a bit in his hands, he set to work rubbing her feet. Sarah kept scowling away at him; there was not much else she could do, seeing as she was tied down.

However, her scowl eventually subsided for two reasons. The first being that it was tiring to keep her face muscles in a constant scowl. Second, she couldn't help but relax. Despite his flaws, her husband gave one hell of a foot rub ... he knew when to put exact pressure on the arches that seemed to send blissful waves to the rest of her body. Hell, he sometimes did something with his fingers between her toes that she would feel all the way to the back of her skull.

Sarah soon closed her eyes and relaxed into her husband's ministrations, although she did take note when her husband stopped focusing on her feet and began to climb up her body. She felt how he kneaded the muscles of her calves, her thighs, and the muscles at her hips. Now she really couldn't help but sigh, as his touch climbed higher, because, damn it, it was turning her on. She didn't doubt he would be able to feel the heat radiating from her. Hell, she was nowhere near ready to forgive him, but if he tried something, she would likely give in.

She had to give her husband credit. The bastard was using the fact that, with three times the blood running through her, because of her pregnancy, she was getting aroused much more easily, to his advantage. She refused to open her eyes on principle now because he would likely see how turned on she was. But he didn't try anything. He stopped messaging her hips and then went straight for her arms, working one and then the other before making his way down to her shoulders and neck, and finally slipping down to her chest running his slick hands all over her breasts, making teasing circles around her nipples. She struggled not to moan. He knew that her breasts were her weakness and he was driving her crazy; soon she would be begging him to mount her.

Just when she felt her will about to break, he removed his hands from her and she heard him walk away. She listened and exhaled a breath while she tried to get her hormones under control, her anger began to signal something to her. It took a moment for her short-circuited brain to figure out what the hell her anger was trying to point out to her. Then she noticed it: her body was covered in the oil he had massaged her with, the oil allowed her skin to be more sensitive to the cool air. She could feel it everywhere except for her belly, which was dry. Had he avoided her stomach? This allowed her anger to gain some traction and put her hormones back under control. She was going to give him a piece of her mind gag or no gag.

She inhaled a breath ready, to lacerate him with her tongue, when she caught the scent, just as her mind registered the sound of the popping of a top. She recognized the scent immediately ... it was coco butter! She had used it when she had been pregnant with Ali and it had soothed her aching skin as it stretched and grew to accommodate her child. She felt his touch on her stomach; she opened her eyes to look down and confirmed that he was rubbing the butter on her belly. She was going to say something but his look of intense focus had her libido pulling the rug out from under her anger.

She shut her eyes again and tried to regain some control over herself, although she doubted that it would help much. She could feel her body moistening and she had no doubt her husband could smell the aroma of her sexual arousal. She swore to herself the moment she got free she was going to kick his ass so hard; it would look like professionals had done it.

She felt his lips suddenly press against the skin of her belly, before she heard her husband whispering, "Hey pequeñín, I'm sorry about the way I reacted when your mom told me about you. To say that you were a surprise doesn't even begin to cut it. I just got used to your big sister and she is a bit of a handful. One thing you are going to learn about your daddy is that he is a worrywart ... I blame that on my really big imagination. It sometimes likes to run crazy so I can predict a lot of good things and way more bad things so I end up worrying about things that might not even happen, and I forget to live in the moment and be happy with what I have. I can't wait to meet you."

"He's still in the womb and you are already lying to him," Sarah said coldly, her anger finally gaining traction as she listened to him talk to their unborn child.

"I am not lying to him," Bas said, as he looked up to meet her eye.

"If I remember correctly you were mumbling about how you are never going to get a chance to write. That it was bad enough because you were already behind, that this new kid was going to be just as bad as our other child, and that you dear husband would be stuck on my tit for the rest of your life."

She knew she scored a hit each time her husband's eye twitched. These were only soft blows though, now she needed to hit him with something that would really hurt.

"You know you can leave any time you want. I can take care of MY children on my own. We don't need you."

Sarah watched him close his eyes before he stood, she could see the whites of his knuckles as he stood for a moment taking a deep breath before he began to manipulate the contraption that held her to the bed. He moved something out of sight from her and then pulled some lever that allowed him to pull the chains. She was forced to sit up before she was made to lie on her stomach. Sarah kept an eye on him the entire time and watched him as he grabbed more oil and warmed it in his hands before he started working on her back.

He was silent for a long time, as long as it took her back muscles to relax under his ministrations. She didn't say anything else because she felt there wasn't much to say. She had thrown his words back at him and let him know how she felt. If he really wanted out, she would take her babies and be on their way-she didn't need him to be happy. That only seemed to add to her tension. So the silence between them was long before she finally relaxed enough, that he began to talk.

"I'm not leaving...any of you. I love you, and Ali, and this baby growing in your belly. Look I...

I had a bad day that day with Ali keeping me up most of that night before and the argument I had with my father," he said quietly, "but that shouldn't be an excuse for what I said."

"You took Ali to see your parents that day?"

"Yeah, did I forget to mention that?"

"Yes,"

He was silent as he focused on rubbing the oil into her calves, thighs and bottom.

"You know that thing I hate the most about myself," He said as he kneaded her muscles "is that I am jealous of you."

This statement threw Sarah off guard "Jealous of me, why?"

"You've done what you have set out to achieve: you are a renowned artist with works of art that sell for ridiculous amounts of money. You work as a tattoo artist, a job that you love to do, a wonderful home. You have family, friends, and a beautiful little girl, and they all love you as much as I do." He emphasized his words by kissing the small of her back making gooseflesh rise on her skin.

"I, on the other hand...I thought I would have written a novel by now, but I have had nothing but false starts. I'm actually kind of glad I haven't been writing, even though there is a part of me that longs for it. I don't really feel like going back. Back to the same thing, back to false starts, back to ideas that have a great start, but then sputter and die. I don't want to crash and burn so much that in the end I give up and go into teaching full time. Because, let's face it, we can't rely on your success forever, though I hope it continues until your old and grey but, who is to say that it won't end next week.

"I'm afraid that... the moment that I fail...the moment that happens... I don't want to end up like that teacher from the story, the one where his anger infects his house so much that in the end, it ends up killing him. I don't want that to happen, I don't want my anger and bitterness to leak into our family, I don't want to be like my father whose children were never comfortable speaking to him about anything. I don't want every little thing to turn into an argument between us because I am angry at myself. I don't want you to one day wake up and realize that you made a mistake and when you realize that, you look elsewhere to find happiness again."

Sarah's mind began to whirl at his words, as the silence settled in between them like a grenade exploding and leaving the ringing in their ears as the only noise. Sarah wanted to be angry, but as her logical mind began to take the pieces that her husband supplied her and put them together, and the more she pieced it together, the harder it was to remain angry. She understood now why he said what he said. If it was true, that he had visited his parents, then he must have had another skirmish with his father.

Bas came from a Mexican family where the idea was that the men where the breadwinners and the women were the homemakers, though Bas's mother was more progressive because she had gotten an education and became a teacher. Her husband, on the other hand, was more old school, as there was a twenty-year age difference between the two of them. For Bas's father, the fact that Bas was more of the homemaker was like a blow to his macho pride, and his father liked to take subtle and sometimes not so subtle digs at Bas.

Though Bas would have liked to have been able to play off his disagreements with his father, the truth was that he cared what his father thought. Whenever they had one of these fights, he would always be in a foul mood. If she added that with the trouble their daughter gave him, and the fact that he had slept only sporadically in the last few days, he wouldn't be thinking straight, There was also her husband's secret fear that she hadn't known he had been carrying with him. He feared that he was going to mess up their relationship somehow and that one day she would move on without him. He believed that he wasn't good enough for her.

Sarah and Bas had only being going out for a year when they decided to move in together. Three months after that, they had an argument because he left his dirty laundry in the bathroom after his shower. For some reason this argument turned into a big row. Sarah thought that the reason she hadn't been feeling well that morning probably contributed to it. They both went to work upset. When she continued not feeling well, she thought, something was seriously wrong and went to see her doctor.

When Bas got home that day, he was ready for a fight, but she took him out with a one-hit K.O. she told him she was pregnant. After that, they had a long discussion over a pizza. They decided to keep the baby and raise it together. They never discussed marriage, but Bas surprised her a month later by asking her to marry him. She accepted, there was another month of planning, before they were finally married. There were a few times when she wondered if she had done the right thing, but she only needed to look at him with their baby girl and she knew that she had. Yet some part of her husband still believed that they weren't equals in this relationship, that he was somehow less than her, that he was somehow just a consolation prize rather than her choice.

"My turn," Sarah said into the oppressive silence.

Her words seemed to snap her husband's focus because his hands suddenly stopped kneading her back.

"What?"

"I said it's my turn."

"Your turn to what?"

"Look, I want to talk, and I really would feel more comfortable talking if I didn't have my face pressed into the mattress. Give me the dam oil and sit in front of me and I'll rub your back."

Sarah could almost hear the gears turning in his head, before finally; he began to maneuver the contraption. He removed the ankle straps so she was able to kneel on the bed, and the slack on the chains on her wrists was enough that she would be able to accomplish her task.

Bas sat before her at the edge of the bed. She placed the oil into her hands and rubbed it before she applied it to his back. The moment her hands touched his back, his shoulders tried to hike up to his ears.

She slapped his back, "Oh, would you relax already; I am not going to hurt you."

"I remember you said those exact words to me once and I ended up with a really impressive hickey."

"Well then, you shouldn't have fucked me, as hard as you did." Sarah could feel his muscles relax at their easy banter.

"I'm still pissed at you cause of what you said."

"I-"

"Shut up, you had your turn. I know you are sorry. Though you went about saying it in the weirdest way, I know that you are sorry. But before I can really forgive you, I need to ask you something."

"Anything."

"Do you remember the day that we meet?"

"How could I ever forget? Adam decided to bring me to you because he said that you were the perfect person to do the tattoo I wanted. I doubted him until I saw the rough draft you made."

The rough draft had been a painting of the portrait that would eventually end up on his back. Adam had come in with a page that seemed to be from a book, which described the main character suddenly realizing, that he was in the home of the gods of the underworld. The page had been a great help to Sarah because the language was so descriptive she could easily see in her mind's eye what the author saw. It came as a surprise, though, when she learned that Bas had been the author of the description, because when they first met, he had been so devoid of life that she couldn't believe that he had written something so beautiful... That was until she learned his story.

"Do you also remember, that as I worked on you, I asked why these two?" She said tracing the image of the gods with her hands.

"I said...because I wanted to believe...because I wanted to believe in something better."

One of the things that Sarah loved about being a tattoo artist was that people talked to her, they told her what the tattoos meant to them, and why they were getting them. Sometimes the pain of getting a tattoo helped them overcome some other deeper emotional or mental pain. The people who got the biggest tattoos were generally the biggest talkers because it helped distract them from the pain they felt.

Bas was no different. In their three ten hour sessions, he revealed the hurt left by an ex-girlfriend. She had cheated on him and told him he was worthless. He had loved her but she hadn't really loved him.

"When we met, you were broken really badly, even your friends and family recognized that. They tried to help you pick up the pieces."

"Yeah...My mother and Adam were the only ones who refused to give up. They both kept trying to find ways to get me motivated to do something anything really. If it wasn't for them, I think I wouldn't have done so. I think I would have just given up on living. "

"And you wouldn't be here with me and Ali," Sarah said as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"You know, before I met you, I just knew the story about Hades taking Persephone to the underworld. It wasn't until you told me about the misunderstanding in translations of the story, like how they mixed up the word "rape" for "to take," and the way wedding ceremonies were in those times and their cultural ideals, that I really understood it. Then you gave me that book that retold their story in the way you saw it: a girl, trying to get out from her mother's thumb, falling in love with the bad boy of the Greek gods, and becoming a powerful woman in her own right. I loved that book because, like you said, theirs was a love that not only changed the world, but the cosmos itself."

"My stupid romantic ideals," he said with disdain.

"It is because of those stupid romantic ideals that I fell in love with you. You and I know both know how dark and pitiless our world can be. Romantic ideals are the only thing to give us hope.

You ought to know best, since you got a double shot of it straight in the chest. Yet despite that, when I talked to you, argued with you about the subject, you became animated and passionate although you knew that there was so much bad in the world, you wanted to see the good in it too. After that first session, I was counting down the days until I would see you again. Hell, I even took the time to look my sultry best when I knew you were coming."

"I managed to catch your eye in only two sessions, did I?"

"Yes you did. That's why I even asked you out on that date, remember?"

"Oh, God, how could I forget! When I realized it was a date, I got so tongue tied and stupid I kept putting my foot in my mouth!"

She couldn't help but laugh, "God, it was so sweet. After so many guys who were so cocky and sure of themselves, you made me feel special, because you got all flustered around me." She kissed his shoulder before she rested her head on it.

"You know before I got that tattoo, I just didn't care anymore, I just went through the motions of life not really living, I was hollow, and I was lost. Then I met you a tattoo artist without a single tattoo on her own skin, in that moment I felt something again, I felt like I wasn't lost any more. Proque, encontre mi luz"

They sat in this comfortable silence, her heart beating in rhythm with his.

"I wasn't lying when I said I was worried about the future," he said, breaking the silence. "For now, we are in the black, but things can change. I don't mean to be an ass, but there is no guarantee this success will last and- "

She covered his mouth with her hand. "Sweetie for now, let's take things one step at a time. We'll start preparing a nest egg." She started kissing his shoulder, slowly making her way up his neck. "We'll invest, or ask someone we can trust to invest for us," She kissed his jaw, following the line to his chin. "Maybe open a CD account or buy a bond or two." She kissed his mouth, a slowly passionate kiss that added fuel to the banked fire. Soon the kiss turned desperate, as the heat between them turned into a blaze. She tilted her head in order to take control of the kiss, forcing her tongue to tangle around his and sucking on his masculine flavor.

Suddenly, he broke the kiss and pulled on the chains. Her upper body pulled back; she was resting in an inclined position with her legs unfurled, extended and open. Before she even had a chance to ponder why her husband had put her in such a position, he placed his mouth at her center and began to devour her. There was no teasing, no trying to pry open the petals of her sex. He just dove in and tried to suck out her sweet nectar.

Sarah was like a pot that had repeatedly been heated and left to cool slowly. Now it was taking her even less time to reach the brass ring, as she felt her heart jumping in her chest like marathon runners does when they are running hills. Every time Bas's tongue swept over her clit, she felt shivers running across her skin. Soon that was all she could feel, her skin prickling as she tried to catch her breath, as she was getting closer and closer to the top. He wasn't going to let her catch her breath though, with a quick move he thrust his fingers into her to the hilt.

Sarah felt herself fly off into the abyss of pleasure. Her whole body clenched! She could even feel how she tightened around his fingers, but instead of the pain that she would feel during a cramp, she only felt the raking fingers of pleasure before her body finally released and she lay limp like a rag doll.

She was doing her best to catch her breath; unfortunately, she kept losing it when he slowly started pulling his fingers out of her oversensitive flesh. He would let her regain some of her composure before he pulled out another inch. Finally, he let her regain her breath. She was even about to say something, when she felt his fingers inside her curve and press at her G-spot, right before he placed his mouth on her clit.