No Fest (story #4)

 “A party? Here? Are you crazy?” I walked away from Dayffed because I couldn’t hold my temper. We had been arguing like two cats for weeks. This was simply the last straw.

“Yes, a party. Just our friends this time. No festival, no crowds, just our friends,” he said.

“Oh yes, that would be fun. Our two circles of friends mix so bloody well,” I growled as I walked towards the kitchen. I was angry and wasn’t ready to cool off. I heard the door slam behind me, and the sound of his truck starting up.

“Damn.” I sat and put my head down on the table. Tears of frustration, anger and pain rolled down my arm. I was just tired and frustrated. And now the day has ended in another fight.

This idea of living together had seemed the logical answer. My house was big enough for the two of us, but I wasn’t use to sharing my space with half the local pagan community on a nightly basis. I hadn’t realized that Dayffed had this ‘open door’ policy that had people stopping in all the time. He looked so hurt when I told him I just couldn’t take the non-stop flow of people. The final bit was Morgan and Reg. They came home with Dayffed after a drum night and didn’t leave for two days. I couldn’t sleep or shower or even feed the cats without someone standing in the way.

Then, after days of barely speaking to each other, Dayffed figures that we needed a housewarming party. I just blew up. Even the cats were hiding from me.

I made myself a cup of tea and curled up in the chair. It was cold in the room, so I pulled a quilt over me. What to do? How to fix this mess? How to not loose Dayffed…

The phone rang and woke me from my daydreams. I grabbed it off the table.

“Hello, Isabeau?”

“Yes, this is Isabeau.”

“This is Colin down at the Drummer’s Beat. Dayffed is down here and got in a fight. Do you want to come get him?”

“What?”

“A fight. He isn’t hurt, too bad, but I don’t think that he can drive home. He didn’t want me to call you, but I didn’t think he should drive.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in about 15 minutes,” I said. I grabbed my coat and keys and headed down to the bar and coffee house that the drummers had taken over a few years before.

I walked into the Drummer’s Beat and had a time finding Dayffed. He was in a booth with a bag of ice on his face. Colin had seen me come in and brought me over to him.

“Dayffed, let’s go home,” I said.

“Not bloody likely”

“Please, come home. I’ve got my car and we can get your truck in the morning.”

“I’ll just sit here.”

“No, Colin wants you to go home. He doesn’t want any trouble. Come on,” I said as I touched his arm.

“Ow! Careful!” he said as he moved out of the booth. He stood up like he was 90 years old. He started moving towards the door, and I mouthed a “thank you” towards Colin.

“No problem Isabeau. Just take him home and stick him in the tub,” Colin answered.

We got outside and Dayffed wobbled towards my car. He stopped and threw up all over the pavement. I unlocked the doors while he wiped his face.

“Sorry,”

“It’s alright. Let’s get home okay?”

“Okay.”

It was a long cold drive home. Dayffed was sick out the window twice before we made it to the driveway. I got him up the stairs and into the bathroom before he got sick again. I ran the bath while he pulled off his clothes. They were covered with blood and muck, so I just bagged them and took them to the washer while he began to soak in the tub.

When I came back, I took a good look at him. Bruises were beginning to purple up on his face and ribs. Dayffed’s lip was split and his one ear looked swollen. I got out the arnica and lavender to daub on the clean bits.

“You are a mess.”

“Yeah, fighting does that to a man,” he said slightly slurred.

“Want to tell me about it?” I asked.

“No,” he said, and with that, he got out of the bath.

“OK. Do you want the bed or the couch?”

“The couch is fine,” he said, and headed down the hall. I hoped that by morning he’d be ready to tell me what went on. I went to bed, leaving the door open.

I woke to the sound of someone knocking at my door. I grabbed my robe and stuck my feet in my slippers as I hollered for the person to be patient.

I opened the door to find a large bundle of flowers preceding Morgan.

“I’ve come to apologize,” he said.

“What? Umm… come in! It’s freezing out there,” I said.

In he came, and before he could say another word, everything became clear. Morgan had a black eye to match Dayffed’s as well as some cuts and bruises.

“So, are the flowers for Dayffed?” I asked.

“No, for you. Seems I had some wrong ideas,” he said.

“Wrong ideas?” Now I was truly puzzled.

“Yeah. I was treating your house like it was Dayffed’s and I was wrong. So, I’m here to apologize” he said as he handed the flowers my way.

“Well, thank you… I guess.” I took the flowers and set them in the sink. “I take it this fight that you two had last night settled all of this?”

“Oh no! That isn’t what the fight was about.”

Puzzled, I asked him to continue. He looked a tad sheepish and then started to talk.

“We were sitting in the Beat when Dayffed came in all in a steam. Asked him what was wrong, and he started going off on how you two were fighting. We talked a bit, and he was all ready to come up here, grab his clothes and go bunk down at a friend’s. He had talked himself into leaving you. So, in what I thought was a joking tone, I said that if he were going to leave a fine woman like you alone that I’d move in. That’s when he hit me.”

“I certainly did,” Dayffed said from the doorway.

I looked up and saw him wrapped up in the quilt. Swaying.

“Come sit down. I think we all need to talk,” I said. I grabbed 3 cups and poured coffee for us all.

We talked for a few hours through coffee, toast, eggs and coffeecake. Even though voices got raised a time or two, all of us kept our tempers. Amazing.

“Isabeau, I’m going home to try and ease these bruises. Take care of Dayffed. And you mate! Don’t forget to take Isabeau’s thoughts into consideration from time to time,” Morgan said as he swiped at Dayffed’s head.

Dayffed dodged the hand, caught it and embraced Morgan.

“Thanks,” he said and saw Morgan out the back door. He turned to me and started to speak, then said nothing. He took my hand, kissed it and then led me down to the bedroom.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said.

“So am I. It’s harder to live together than I expected.”

“We’ve both been single for a long time, and we are both hard headed fools,” he said with a smile.

“I agree.” I kissed him gently on the lips and pulled him onto the bed to snuggle. Last thing I remembered was Dayffed pulling the quilt over the both of us.

“This has got to be a record,” I whispered to Dayffed.

“Record? What do you mean?” he asked confused.

“A whole 48 hours and you haven’t done more than kiss me,” I said giggling.

“Oh! I’m so sore that I couldn’t even think of it,” he said with a grimace.

“I’m still surprised that you took on Morgan. He is at least 4 inches taller than you and must outweigh you by a good 50 pounds.”

“Well, I guess I’m just a fool in love,” he giggled, and I started giggling too. “Oh! Oh! That hurts.”

“You probably bruised a rib or two,” I said, trying to see where he hurt.

“Blast! That hurt!”

“I bet.” I put my hands on it, closed my eyes and ‘felt’ his ribs. “Nothing broken, but you are damn lucky,” I said.

“I still am amazed when you do that,” Dayffed said.

“Well, healing is what I do. Or try to. Some days are just harder than others.” I got up off the bed and headed for the shower. “That reminds me. I’ve got to go into the library this morning. So, you are on your own ‘til 5pm.”

“Alright, I’ll just lay here and moan.”

Dayffed was asleep when I left, so I blew him a kiss and headed out the door. What a week this had been. What a year this had been. Some days, I felt like chaos ruled and I was just along for the ride.

I got home at about 5:30 to find a note on the door.

“Isabeau,

Follow the directions please.

Go straight to the bathroom.

Dayffed.”

Okay. I’ll play his game, and head to the bathroom. Inside, on a stool are a thick towel, a glass and a bottle of wine with a note.

“Isabeau,

Have a hot soaking bath and a glass of wine. Then, dress in the clothes on the door and come to the living room.

Dayffed.”

I ran a hot bath and poured a glass of wine. Sinking into the hot water felt so good. The wine wasn’t bad either. A merlot, and one of my favorites. I could hear noises in the kitchen, and couldn’t soak any longer. My curiosity was getting the best of me. I got out, dried off and looked at the clothes Dayffed had left me. A silk chemise, skirt, tunic and a shawl. Hmm, new, but definitely my style. I put them on, and headed to the living room.

On the couch was a note, and a silk scarf.

“Isabeau,

Make yourself comfortable. Please wrap the scarf around your eyes. Don’t peek.

Dayffed.”

Curious, I did what he said. I made myself comfortable and covered my eyes with the scarf. He must have been watching, because I heard him come in a moment or two after I did what he asked.

I smelled the dinner before he even had it sat down. I went to move the scarf, and his hand laid on mine.

“No, let me feed you. Don’t speak, just touch my hand when you have had enough.”

I nodded. First course was fruit. Melon, peaches, strawberries and tangerines. Tiny bites that teased my palate. Next was cheese and sourdough bread. Once again, tiny bites. Vegetables were next. Crunchy and firm, followed by a different cheese. Last, but not least,… chocolate mousse flavored with a touch of orange. I didn’t want to get too full, so I touched his hand. He disappeared for a moment and then came back.

“Give me your hand,” he said. I followed him down the hall to our room. Even through the scarf, I could tell it was darker.

“May I take the scarf off?” I asked.

“Not yet. Lay down on the bed,” he whispered in my ear.

So, I did what he asked. I could tell that there were candles lit all around and I could smell my favorite incense. I lay there wondering what was coming next when I felt his hands on my feet. He was massaging them. It felt wonderful. Dayffed’s hands worked up my legs and then my thighs, stopping just short of my crotch. Ah, playbacks of last summer when we first met. As I thought of that memory, he kissed the scar that cot had left. He was reading my mind.

Then, he moved to my fingers, hands and arms. I felt like putty. I rolled over at his request, and he began again. Fingers, hands, arms, shoulders. Then, feet, calves, thighs. The tunic and skirt joined the shawl on the floor. Lying on my stomach, he massaged my back. The heat building in my loins was heady. I rolled over, and he caressed my breasts and stomach, working down until I wanted to press his head into my crotch. He moved back down to my ankles.

Dayffed kissed his way up to my crotch and then began to tease my lips with his tongue. Relaxed from the wine and massage, I was ready for his attentions. Dayffed’s tongue played over my lips and clit until I came and came. Orgasm rolled over orgasm until I begged for the chance to breathe.

Dayffed laughed when I said, “Air!” and gave me a moments respite. Yet, it was only a moment. His tongue was back to tease my clit while his fingers danced in and out of me.

“Ahh…. oh! Oh! Oh! Ohmyohmyyy!” I moaned. His tongue stopped as I shuddered. Then he took me in his arms kissing me. My scent on his lips made me eager to kiss him. I nibbled his lips and dueled with his tongue. I tossed the scarf off the bed and sent the chemise to follow. I looked at Dayffed. He was nude, and I could feel his cock hard against my thigh. Slowly, I pushed him against the bed. It was my turn. I couldn’t massage him. There were just too many bruises. However, I could treat him to a kiss he’d not soon forget.

My lips played up and down his shaft, licking, kissing and sucking until he began to moan. His balls were next to be kissed and sucked. My breasts caressed the tops of his thighs. I blew air across his wet cock and then took him in my hot mouth. He gasped at the contrast of cold and hot.

“Isabeau.”

“Dayffed.”

“Come here,” he said, and held out his arms to me. I moved into his arms, and as my lips kissed his bruised lips, his cock moved into me.

Our lovemaking was slow, almost delicate due to the sore ribs. However, when the final waves began to hit, there was no stopping. Dayffed thrust into me, making my hips ring with pleasure as I rode his cock. Waves of pleasure, orgasm, shook me and he came as I floated away. We curled up under the covers and cuddled.

The next morning, Dayffed was singing in the shower. I woke and stretched, to discover a flower on the pillow next to me. I giggled and got up. I got into the shower with Dayffed and we took turns soaping and rinsing each other. As I toweled him off, I could see the bruises turning yellow, purple and green.

“You really took a beating Dayffed.”

“I know. It also brought me to my senses,” he said. “I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you.”

“So am I. We just weren’t communicating very well,” I conceded.

“So,” he paused, wrapping his arms around me, pushing his body close to mine. “Shall we still have that housewarming?” He said with an impish grin.

“Oh! You cheeky sod!” I laughed. He kissed me before I could say any more. I moved towards the bedroom.

“Alright. We will. It’s almost Samhain, and I guess it is time for a bit of a party. However, they go home when it’s over,” I said.

“Of course love, right after they sober up,” he said laughing.

I threw a pillow at him.

4 thoughts on “No Fest (story #4)

Add yours

  1. I love how you capture the day to day adjustments of a couple moving in together. It’s so cool. I feel like a fly on the wall

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