Really Doing It

Roy leaned down and kissed her.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he settled beside her, one hand braced against the sheets. Michelle was still warm from her shower, her damp skin carrying the faint scent of her shampoo. The towel lay forgotten near the bathroom door. With a happy little sound, she pulled him closer, her fingers curling into the front of his half-unbuttoned shirt.

The apartment felt quieter than usual. Late-afternoon sunlight slanted through the bedroom window, catching the edge of the open suitcase and the careful piles of folded clothes. Roy had intended to finish packing before Michelle got out of the shower. That plan had lasted approximately as long as it took her to ask for one last memory in this place.

He couldn't say he regretted the interruption.

Michelle helped him out of his shirt, then ran her hands over his chest with a fondness that never failed to surprise him. At forty, with a body that carried the evidence of years spent at a desk rather than in a gym, Roy wasn't always comfortable with what he saw in the mirror. He sometimes caught himself expecting a woman's touch to hesitate, or her eyes to wander towards some better-looking man.

Michelle never made him feel that way. Her affection was so direct, so wholehearted, that he could almost forget the insecurities he'd carried for most of his adult life. She touched him as though his body were exactly what she wanted, and looked at him as though she'd won some extraordinary prize.

"You're staring," she said, smiling up at him.

"Hard not to." Roy brushed a damp curl away from her forehead. "You look like you belong here."

"I do belong here." She tugged him closer. "At least until the end of the month. You said so yourself."

"I did."

"Good. Just checking that you haven't changed your mind."

"Michelle, I'm packing a suitcase."

"Yes, but you might be packing it very slowly."

He laughed, and she kissed him before he could come up with a suitable reply.

The teasing gave way to something quieter. Roy held her close, lingering over the familiar little gestures that made being with Michelle feel so easy. There had been a time when he hadn't imagined himself as the sort of man a woman like her would want. She was young, affectionate, full of life, and sometimes so cheerfully certain of him that he wondered how she'd managed to see past every reason he'd ever found to doubt himself.

The wish had brought them together under circumstances that still troubled him. He couldn't change that history or pretend the questions surrounding it had disappeared. But the affection he'd developed for Michelle was real, and so was the tenderness between them. Whatever else the magic had done, it hadn't made her feelings something he could dismiss as meaningless.

"Come here, Mister Man," she whispered.

Roy was more than happy to oblige.

He shifted so that he could settle more fully against her, careful with his weight. Michelle's hands slid down his back, then lower, fingers slipping under the waistband of his pants. The zipper came down with a soft rasp. Together they worked the fabric over his hips until he could kick free of the rest. His underwear followed a moment later. Michelle's palm closed around him without hesitation, stroking with the same easy confidence she brought to most things she wanted.

Roy kissed the corner of her mouth, then the line of her jaw, then the soft place just beneath her ear. Her skin was still faintly damp. The scent of her shampoo mixed with the warmer, more personal scent of her body. He cupped one breast, thumb brushing over the nipple until it tightened under his touch. Michelle made a quiet, pleased sound and arched into his hand.

"That feels nice," she murmured.

"Good."

He took his time. There was no rush. The suitcase could wait. Jessica's house could wait. Everything outside this room could wait. Roy kissed his way down her throat, across the upper slope of her breast, then closed his mouth over the nipple he had been teasing. Michelle's fingers tightened in his hair. Her other hand kept stroking him in slow, steady pulls that made concentration difficult.

When he finally moved lower, she parted her legs without being asked. Roy settled between her thighs and looked up the length of her body. Dark skin still carrying a faint sheen from the shower. The soft curve of her stomach. The neat triangle of hair between her legs. Nineteen years old and somehow already the person who made this cramped apartment feel like the safest place he had ever known.

He kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other. Michelle's hand found the top of his head again, not pushing, just resting there. Roy leaned in and tasted her. She was already wet, the slick heat of her coating his tongue as he drew slow, deliberate strokes over her clit. Michelle's hips shifted. A soft sound escaped her, half sigh and half encouragement.

Roy kept the pace unhurried. He had never done anything like this before, gone down on a woman. The concept wasn't completely foreign to him, the internet had given him an education in how to please a woman years earlier, even if he'd never been able to put the lessons into practice. Until now, that was. He was acutely aware of her pleasure, keeping steady pressure, the occasional firmer circle when her breathing changed, the way she responded when he slid one finger inside her while his mouth stayed busy. Michelle's thighs tightened around his shoulders. Her free hand gripped the sheet.

"Roy," she said, voice low and a little unsteady. "Come up here. I want you."

He gave her one last lingering lick, then climbed back up the bed. Michelle reached for him at once, guiding him between her legs. Roy braced his weight on his forearms so he wouldn't crush her. The head of his erection pressed against her entrance. For a moment he simply held there, looking down at her face.

Michelle smiled up at him, eyes bright. "I'm ready."

He pushed in slowly. The heat of her closed around him in a smooth, perfect slide that pulled a low sound from his throat. Michelle's legs came up around his waist. Her hands settled on his back, fingers spreading as if she wanted as much contact as possible.

They moved together without hurry. Roy kept his thrusts deep and steady, watching her face for every small shift of pleasure. Michelle met him with equal care, rolling her hips to take him fully each time. The bed frame gave a soft, familiar complaint. Afternoon light continued its slow progress across the floor. Outside, traffic murmured somewhere beyond the window. Inside, the only sounds that mattered were the quiet ones they made together.

Michelle's breathing grew shorter. Roy reached between them and found her clit with his thumb, circling in time with his thrusts. She clenched around him almost at once. Her head tipped back against the pillow, mouth open on a soft, broken sound as the orgasm took her. Roy kept moving through it, gentler now, letting her ride the waves until the tremors eased and she slumped beneath him, smiling.

"Your turn," she said, still a little breathless.

He kissed her. Michelle wrapped her legs more firmly around him and pulled him deeper. The deliberate squeeze of her body around his cock pushed him higher with every stroke. Roy's rhythm faltered. Heat gathered low in his spine, then spilled over in a long, rolling climax that left his arms trembling. He buried his face against her neck and held on while the last pulses faded.

For a while neither of them moved. Michelle stroked his hair. Roy stayed inside her, breathing against her skin, reluctant to break the closeness. Eventually he eased out and rolled onto his side, bringing her with him so that she could settle against his chest.

Much later, the room had grown warmer, and the strip of sunlight had crept across the floor towards the dresser. Michelle lay tucked against Roy's side, one arm thrown across his chest, her fingertips drawing lazy patterns on his skin. The open suitcase remained at the foot of the bed, apparently abandoned for the foreseeable future.

"We're really doing this," Michelle murmured.

"Moving?"

"Moving. Living with everybody. Having a whole house full of people." She lifted her head enough to look at him. "I keep thinking about how different everything is from a few months ago."

Roy turned and pressed a kiss into her hair. The faint scent of shampoo lingered beneath the warmth of her skin. "Different good, I hope."

"Different good." Her smile softened. "I used to lie at night worrying about rent and shifts and whether I was ever going to get ahead. Now I'm lying here thinking about where my stuff will go at Jessica's, whether Zara's going to try to turn the living room into a command centre, and how many people we can fit around the dinner table."

"Zara would absolutely try to turn the living room into a command centre."

"I know. That's why I love her."

Roy chuckled. The image was easy enough to imagine: Zara explaining her grand plans at rapid-fire speed while everyone else tried to work out whether she was describing furniture arrangements or a campaign to conquer a neighbouring kingdom.

Michelle settled back against him, her expression growing thoughtful. "I'm going to miss this place, though."

"Me too."

"It's not fancy. The kitchen's tiny, the bedroom's cramped, and the neighbours sometimes sound like they're trying to win a wrestling championship at two in the morning." She paused. "But it's ours."

"Yeah." Roy glanced at the ceiling, at the familiar crack near the light fixture. "It is."

"I learned how to fall asleep here without worrying." Her fingers stilled against his chest. "Thank you."

Roy turned his head to look at her. There was something important in those words, something that went beyond the apartment or even their relationship. He knew enough about Michelle's life to understand how much she valued the security they'd found together. Losing her father had changed her family. The trouble with her mother had made things harder still. For all its cramped rooms and irritating neighbours, this apartment had become a refuge.

"I'm glad you have that," he said. "And I want you to feel that way at Jessica's, too. Not just because I'm there. I want you to feel like it's your home. That you have a place there, and that nobody can take it away from you."

Michelle looked at him for several seconds, then leaned up to kiss him.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

"No, but seriously." Her voice became playfully stern. "I love you a ridiculous amount. It's getting embarrassing."

"I'll try not to let it go to my head."

"Too late. You're already the most spoiled man in the world."

"That's a bold claim."

"Who's going to argue with me? Your other girlfriends?"

"They might have something to say about it."

He laughed, and she giggled against his shoulder. The little exchange was exactly the sort of ordinary moment he'd come to treasure: nothing profound, nothing dramatic, just two people who loved each other being comfortable enough to be silly.

Then a thought that had been troubling him all afternoon returned.

"Michelle?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something about your mom?"

The smile on her face didn't disappear, but her expression changed. "Sure. What's up?"

Roy hesitated, trying to find a way of asking without making it sound as though he were criticizing her or questioning her feelings. "I've been thinking about what happened between you two. At Walmart, I mean. About the things she said to you."

Michelle's hand became still against his chest.

"Oh."

"I know things are different now. I know she's been nicer lately, and I'm glad about that. But I haven't forgotten how she treated you." He chose his next words carefully. "She was cruel, Michelle. You didn't deserve any of it."

For a moment, Michelle seemed genuinely puzzled.

"Well, yeah. It hurt." She looked down at their joined hands. "It hurt really bad, actually."

Roy felt a familiar discomfort settle in his stomach. He'd seen the effects of that confrontation on Michelle, the pain and anger she'd carried afterward. He'd also knew the remarkable change in that could happen in someone like her mom once the wish had made her his girlfriend. The woman who'd looked at him as though he were a predator had become affectionate, attentive, and apparently delighted at the prospect of spending time with him.

It was difficult to reconcile the two versions of her. More difficult still to ignore that the change had come at the expense of Michelle's mom's ability to choose her own feelings.

"That's what worries me," he admitted. "I don't want you to think you have to pretend that everything she said was fine just because she's being nice to you now."

Michelle looked up at him, a crease forming between her brows. "But she's my mom."

"I know."

"And you love her, right?"

Roy went quiet.

Michelle studied him, apparently uncertain why he'd hesitate. "I mean, aren't you two boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

The question landed in precisely the place he'd been trying not to look.

"Yes," Roy said after a moment. "I guess we are."

"Right. So..." Michelle's forehead creased further. "I don't get it, baby. You like her. She likes you. She wants to be around us. Why are you worried?"

Roy rubbed a hand over his face. He'd been looking for a way to talk about her mother's treatment of her without making Michelle feel responsible for solving the problem. Instead, he'd managed to confuse her.

"I'm not worried because I don't want her around," he said. "I'm worried about you. I saw how badly she hurt you, and I don't want that to get swept under the rug because things have changed."

Michelle was quiet for a moment. Then she shifted closer, resting her chin on his chest.

"Do you know what the weird thing is?" she asked.

"What's that?"

"Mom has been different lately. Like, really different."

Roy waited.

"After Dad died, she got..." Michelle paused, searching for the right word. "Harder. I guess. Not all the time. She still did stuff for me, and she worried about me, but it was always like she was waiting for something terrible to happen. She wanted to know where I was, who I was with, what I was doing. If I made a decision she didn't like, it was because I was being reckless or stupid or didn't understand how the world worked."

The words came slowly, as though Michelle were arranging old memories into a pattern she'd only recently begun to recognize.

"Dad used to balance her out. He was the one who could make her laugh when she was getting worked up about something. He'd tell her she was worrying too much, and she'd roll her eyes at him, but she'd listen." A small, wistful smile appeared. "I think she lost some of that softness when he died. She was so busy trying to keep everything together that she forgot I was grieving, too. We were both hurting, but she acted like the only way to keep me safe was to make all my decisions for me."

Roy listened without interrupting. He'd known that Michelle's relationship with her mother was strained, but hearing her describe the years after her father's death brought the emotional cost into sharper focus.

"Then you happened. And then Walmart happened," Michelle continued. "And I thought that was it. I thought she'd decided I was a terrible person, and there was no way I could ever make her understand."

Her mouth tightened at the memory. "She called me a slut, Roy. She said you were taking advantage of me, and she wouldn't even listen when I tried to explain. I was standing there trying not to cry while my own mother talked about me like I was some stranger she'd caught doing something disgusting."

Roy's arm tightened around her shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't do it."

"No, but I hate that it happened to you."

Michelle's eyes were shiny now, although she wasn't crying. "It really hurt. More than I wanted to admit. I was angry with her, but I was also sad. I wanted my mom. I wanted the woman who used to hug me when I was upset and tell me we'd figure things out together. Instead, I got someone who seemed to think the only way to love me was to make me feel like crap whenever I didn't do what she wanted."

Roy swallowed. There was no clever answer to that. No argument that could make those memories disappear, no assurance that could give Michelle back the mother she'd lost in the years after her father's death.

"And now?" he asked quietly.

"Now she's different again." Michelle's face brightened a little as she considered it. "When I talk to her, there's this softness I haven't seen in years. She's still Mom. She still worries. But she listens more. She's affectionate. She actually seems happy for me, instead of acting like everything I do is one step away from ruining my life." She gave a small, almost disbelieving laugh. "And she likes you. A lot. I mean, a lot a lot."

Roy managed a smile. "I've noticed."

"Of course you have. She calls you honey bear."

"Also noticed."

Michelle giggled, then sobered again. "I think being with you changed something for her. Maybe seeing how you treat me made her realize she was wrong about us. She saw that you weren't trying to take advantage of me. You weren't trying to control me or make me do what you wanted. You just loved me."

Roy felt a knot form beneath his ribs.

He wanted to believe that. Part of him desperately wanted to believe that Michelle's mom had recognized her mistakes and found a way to become the mother her daughter needed again. But he knew what had happened. There was no reconsidering of judgments through reflection or experience. The wish had reached into her life and rewritten her feelings, changing her relationship with him so completely that her former hostility seemed to have vanished.

It was tempting to regard the results as a miracle. Michelle was happier. Her mother was happier. A relationship that had caused them both pain was beginning to heal. But the means still mattered... didn't they?

"Maybe I've helped," Roy said cautiously. "I hope I have. But I don't want you to feel like you owe anyone forgiveness just because things are better now."

Michelle gave him a puzzled look. "I don't think I owe her anything."

"Good."

"But I do want things to be better." She rested her cheek against him again. "I don't want to keep fighting with my mom forever. I miss her, you know? Even when she was right there, I missed her. I missed how she used to be."

Roy brushed his hand over her hair.

"I'd like you two to have that again," he said. "I really would. I just want you to be able to tell her when she's hurt you, and for her to listen. I don't want you swallowing your feelings to keep the peace."

Michelle looked at him for a long moment.

"That's one of the reasons I love you," she said.

"Because I lecture you about communication?"

"Because you care about how I feel." She lifted her head and met his eyes. "Mom always cared about me, but after Dad died, sometimes it felt like she cared more about what could happen to me than about who I actually was. You don't do that. You worry, sure, and you want me to be safe, but you still trust me to make my own choices."

The contradiction in his own situation pressed on him. He'd acquired Michelle's love through a magical wish she hadn't chosen, yet he wanted to be the sort of partner who respected her independence. He'd become her mother's boyfriend through the same magic, and now found himself worrying about her capacity to choose, too. The irony was almost unbearable.

He couldn't undo what the wish had done. He could, at least, try to make the people caught up in it happier rather than more miserable.

"I'm glad you feel that way," he said. "You deserve to be trusted. And you deserve to be treated kindly, especially by the people who love you."

"I know." Michelle smiled. "And I think Mom is trying. I don't know why everything changed so fast, but I can see that she's trying to be softer with me. Maybe it's because of you. Maybe she needed someone to show her that love doesn't have to be about being in control."

Roy looked away, giving himself a moment to absorb that. He wasn't sure he deserved to be cast as the person who had healed their family. If anything, he'd stumbled into the situation and then spent much of his time trying to work out how to live with its consequences. But Michelle's happiness mattered more to him than the satisfaction of being right about how any of this worked.

"What would you think," he asked, "if she wanted to spend more time with us? Maybe even live with us, eventually?"

Michelle's eyes widened.

"You mean at Jessica's?"

"Possibly. I don't know if that's what she'd want, or what you would want. I'm not suggesting we make any decisions tonight. I just think we should talk about it."

A smile quickly took shape.

"Honestly? I'd like that," she said. "I'd like that so much."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She fiddled with the edge of the sheet. "It might be weird at first. Obviously, after me moving out, her being, you know... but you're my boyfriend, and you're her boyfriend. It wouldn't be right for me to monopolize her you at her expense. I want her to be happy, just like I want you to be happy. I love her, Roy. She's my mom."

"I know, sweetheart."

"And I think she loves you, too." Michelle looked up at him, entirely earnest. "I mean, she really loves you. She's always talking about you now. And she's happy. I haven't seen her that happy in ages."

Roy felt his stomach tighten again. Michelle was describing real happiness, or at least happiness that her mom was genuinely experiencing. That didn't resolve the question of how it had come about, but it made the prospect of taking it away feel less straightforward than he'd wanted it to be.

"I don't want to hurt either of you," he admitted.

"Then don't." Michelle reached up and cupped his cheek. "Talk to us. Let us tell you what we want. You don't have to figure everything out by yourself."

The words struck closer to home than she could possibly know.

Roy smiled faintly. "I seem to be getting that advice from quite a few people lately."

"Good. Maybe eventually you'll listen."

"Maybe."

Michelle leaned in and kissed him, gentle and lingering. When she drew back, she was smiling again.

"For what it's worth, I think you've already made things better between me and Mom. She's been way kinder to me lately. She's been listening. And I haven't felt this close to her since Dad died."

Roy held her a little tighter.

"That's what I want for you," he said. "I want you to have your mom back, if that's what you want. I just want to make sure you're not hurt again in the process."

"I know." Michelle nestled against him. "And I want you to be happy, too. That's why I want us all together. You love all of us. We love you. We can make this work."

Her certainty was both comforting and heartbreaking. Michelle believed that love could be enough, and Roy desperately wanted her to be right. He wanted the house to be a place where all of them could feel wanted and safe. He wanted the women he loved to be happy, not just because their happiness made his own life richer, but because each of them deserved something good after the difficulties they'd faced.

He also wanted a world in which those feelings had come about freely. That remained the one thing he couldn't give them.

"We'll figure it out together," he said at last.

Michelle smiled against his chest. "That's all I want."

For a while, neither of them spoke. Roy stroked her hair, letting her settle against him, listening to the familiar sounds of the apartment. A car passed outside. Somewhere in the building, a door closed. The room was slowly losing the last of the afternoon light, and the open suitcase at the foot of the bed seemed to be waiting patiently for them to remember why they'd started packing in the first place.

Eventually, Michelle tipped her face up towards him.

"So, are we going to Jessica's tonight, or are you planning to spend the entire evening cuddling me?"

"Both, ideally."

"Excellent. I support that plan."

She kissed him once more, then reluctantly pushed herself upright. "We should probably get dressed. And finish packing. And find out what Jessica wants to talk about."

"Jessica wants to talk?"

"Oh, maybe I wasn't supposed to say anything," she blushed. "She said it was for the ladies first. Zara was going to fill me in when we got there."

"Okay..." Roy said, feeling nervous.

"I'm sure it's nothing," she kissed his nose. "Or something small. Or silly. I'm sure Jessica would talk to you if it was big."

"Fine," he said with a sigh, realizing that worrying wouldn't change anything. Besides, one thing he could trust was that Jessica loved him, just like the rest of his girlfriends, and would want the best for him. "We'll just find out when we get there. Hopefully she hasn't made a deal to sell one of my kidneys."

Michelle laughed and reached for her discarded clothes. Roy watched her for a moment, affection warming him even as his thoughts returned to her mother. If he were to quickly becoming intimate with the older woman, let her go from the wish, he wouldn't have to have her in his life as a reminder of someone who had hurt the woman he loved so badly. At the same time, though, if he did that, Michelle would lose her mother all over again.

But if he wanted to keep her around, allow her to become a permanent girlfriend like the others, how would he overcome his already negative feelings toward her? How would he let her into his heart when he had seen how hurful she could be?

There was no easy answer here. He'd have to take it one step at a time, listening to Michelle to understand what kind of relationship she wanted with her mother, while a the same time getting to know the older woman to see if a relationship with her was even possible.

For now, that would have to be enough.

Roy began gathering the last of his things while Michelle dressed, the two of them moving around each other with the comfortable ease they'd developed in this small apartment. Soon they'd be taking their belongings to Jessica's house, carrying their memories with them and making room for the next stage of their lives.

He hoped the new home would give Michelle what she'd been missing for so long.

Not a perfect family. Not a life without complications.

Just a place where she could be loved without having to fight for it.