Passage of Time
It was a beautiful spring day in northern Louisiana so I was able to hear the sounds of the girls laughing and giggling upstairs through the open windows from where I was outside. Sookie was helping Erica get ready for her eighth grade formal dance later on that evening while Pam hovered around them wishing she could go too. Our youngest daughter had just turned seven a week earlier and was the girliest girl there was. She refused to wear anything but dresses and amassed a sizable collection in an array of assorted rainbow colored pastels that lined her closet, with pristine sandals on her dainty little feet. I was wrapped around her little finger, as Sookie pointed out on a near daily basis, but it wasn’t as if I tried to hide that fact. It was true. She was my baby and I doted on her to her heart’s content. Where Erica’s features mostly favored mine, Pam was the spitting image of her mother and, like I would for her mother, there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. The same held true for each of our four kids, but Pam definitely got special treatment for being the baby and she’d known how to manipulate me from day one. Where Sookie and I had both been eager to see the other three grow into the impressive young adults they now were, with Pam I felt both proud and sad with every milestone she passed knowing she would more than likely be our last.
Erica seemed to grow up in the blink of an eye and was already filling out into a woman’s body which made me…cautious. Sookie’s choice of words were, ‘overbearing’ and ‘near homicidal’, but she just didn’t understand what it was like as a father to see your baby girl grow up, knowing how the mind of the male species worked. I was no longer delusional believing I could convince either one of my daughters to join a convent, but I would put the fear of God into any boy that darkened my doorstep looking for one of my daughters. At least Pam hadn’t shown any interest in boys yet and that was just fine by me.
And, knowing how the mind of the male species worked, my boys had no problems with the parenting approach I used with them. I seemed to turn into a giant kid whenever we were together which Sookie would find either cute or frustrating, depending on the circumstances. Both Sam and Tommy had grown into strapping young men at the ages of 13 and 11 with each of them having a natural athleticism making them star soccer players. I coached their recreation team and we’d won first place in our division three years in a row thanks to them. Their birthdays fell close enough to each other that they were able to play on the same team for now, so I was lucky to be able to have them both on the field every game day.
I’d taken the whole family on a trip to Sweden a year earlier and was able to get us tickets to see my beloved Hammarby Futbol team. I’d picked them as my favorite way back during my days at boarding school because they played for the same hometown where my mother had been born and my loyalty to them hadn’t waivered once, no matter how many losing seasons they had. The boys enjoyed the atmosphere wholeheartedly while the girls mostly grumbled about being cold. I may have enjoyed one too many beers since we could walk back to our hotel and Erica was later horrified, while I became the boys’ personal hero, when I’d stood up during the game and coaxed the crowd in the bleachers into singing the team’s fight song while Sookie recorded the whole thing. She posted it on YouTube and got quite a few hits on it, but Erica’s humiliation only grew when Sam linked it to his Facebook page and it went viral amongst all of their friends. I wasn’t ashamed, if not a little drunk at the time, so it was all good to me.
“Hostile approaching at your six,” Tommy’s voice came through my earpiece putting me on alert.
I peered through the branches of the large bush I was hiding behind and saw Erica’s date for the dance coming up our walkway. As soon as he got to the front porch I leapt out in front of him while the boys circled around to his rear, effectively trapping him within a circle of Northman. The enemy had let out a shriek in fright as Sookie opened our front door and saw the three of us dressed in camouflage and war paint. The boys each held giant Nerf guns, with Tommy’s pointed at his head and Sam’s pointed at his crotch. My chest swelled with pride knowing they took their sister’s honor as seriously as I did.
“Eric Northman! What do you think you’re doing?” Sookie berated.
“Jag visar honom hur lätt han kan dö om han lägger en hand på min dotter. Han kommer aldrig att se oss komma, rätt killar?” (I’m showing him just how easily he can die if he lays a hand on my daughter. He’ll never see us coming, right boys?)
Our whole family was fluent in Swedish now, which cut down on Sookie’s dirty talk to me whenever the kids were around, but it came in handy at times like these.
Sam and Tommy were laughing, high-fiving each other, with Sam telling his younger brother, “Det var jävligt ninja!” (That was pretty fucking ninja!)
I couldn’t stop the chuckle that erupted from my throat as Sookie let out a stern, “SAM!” while giving me the stink eye.
I looked back at her with all of the innocence I could muster as I doubted now was the time to list the merits of the HBO miniseries the boys and I watched together. I shrugged my shoulders while cocking my eyebrows at the boys purely for show. They both straightened up and mocked saluted me saying, “Sir! Ja, sir! Vi kommer att försvara vår systers ära tills vårt sista andetag!” (Sir! Yes Sir! We will defend our sister’s honor until our dying breath!)
I would have been able to keep up my ‘stern face’ if they hadn’t ended by pounding their closed fists over their hearts, after their practiced declaration, and lifted their Nerf guns into the air, firing a barrage of Nerf darts into the sky like freedom fighters that rained down on Erica’s date. Did I mention how much I loved my boys?
They each let out a battle cry and took off firing darts at each other, leaving me to face their mother’s wrath alone as she invited the enemy inside. Traitors.
I followed them into the house and nearly tripped over fucking Bob who’d decided to sprawl out on the floor by the front door, soaking up the sunshine that filtered through the door. The fat bastard was worthless as far as I was concerned, but the kids and Sookie all loved him so there was nothing to be done about it now.
“Erica! Stan is here,” Sookie called upstairs. She grabbed the camera and my breath caught in my throat seeing my little girl coming down the stairs all dressed up and looking much older than I wanted her to be.
When had she grown up?
It seemed like just yesterday when she was born and if I had the power to turn back time, I would. I watched as she came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and looked at me quizically before shyly glancing over at the enemy cowering by the coat rack. Sookie decided to move and stand in the way of my glare, shielding him from the telepathic death threats I was sending his way, and said, “Stan, why don’t you go and stand next to Erica so I can take some pictures of you two together?”
As the enemy named Stan shuffled his way across the foyer, Sookie took the time to turn around and whisper, “Kommer du sluta? Du skrämmer den stackars ungen till döds och Erica kommer aldrig att förlåta dig!” (Will you stop it? You’re scaring the poor kid to death and Erica will never forgive you!)
I could tell I was about to be relegated to the dog house so I swept Sookie up in my arms and tickled her cheek and neck with my whiskers. As soon as she giggled I whispered in her ear, “Lover, you know what hearing you speak Swedish does to me.” I was like one of Pavlov’s dogs because whenever she said anything in Swedish all I wanted to do was throw her down and have my way with her.
“That’s because you’re waiting for me to suggest we get naked, tell you I want to do very dirty things to you, and how I want you to make me scream your name,” Sookie whispered back.
Maybe the kids could disappear for a while because as much as I loved them, their mere presence was delaying the gratification only their mother could give me. I heard Erica’s not so subtle cough in case we’d forgotten they were in the room (it wouldn’t be the first time) and I reluctantly sighed before saying, “All perfectly acceptable suggestions my dear wife, perhaps later?” From her responding smile I knew I was getting lucky later on; now if only there was a way I could clean the camouflage paint from Sookie’s face without her knowing about it and I’d be all set.
I’d given up on trying to figure out the magic voodoo powers Eric seemed to possess whenever I tried to be mad at him. We had our share of disagreements, but I could never stay mad at him for long no matter how hard I tried. All he’d have to do was shoot me a lustful look and a boyishly charming grin and my anger would vanish; more often than not my panties would too. You’d think after fifteen years together the novelty would have worn off, but I wanted him now just as much as I did back in the beginning, if not more so because now I knew what I had to look forward to.
I would love Eric no matter what he looked like, but I certainly knew I was lucky that he still chose to take care of himself as he got older. His body hadn’t changed much in all of our years together from him working out in our home gym a few days a week and running every morning. He even took it in stride when the kids likened his running stance to that of a T-Rex because of the way he carried his arms and didn’t care one bit that I laughed long and hard realizing how true their observations were. It worked out well for me when he attacked me like caveman later on, after the kids were in bed, and he ended up roaring for me a few times before the night was through.
We both loved our children more than life itself, but at times we had to become like ninjas to have sex, trying to avoid being caught by them. Having four little people all trying to vie for your attention at the same time made it difficult to find the time for each other, but we never sacrificed our relationship knowing we had to stay happy with each other in order for our family to be happy as a unit.
After I convinced Eric to wash the camouflage paint from his face, and he clued me in that my own face needed a good scrubbing, we got some pictures of each of us with Erica in her gown before Stan’s parents came in to take some pictures of their own. They took the kids to drop them off at the school for the dance and they would be attending an after party at one of their friend’s homes afterwards before Eric would be picking them up around midnight. After his little battle chieftain display earlier that afternoon I wasn’t sure that was such a good idea, already worried about Stan’s psyche, and Erica would be bringing home her best friend Meg for a sleepover, so that left little time for us to have sexy time.
The kids somehow morphed into nocturnal creatures when the weekend hit and I had no doubt they would outlast Eric and I when it came to staying awake, so we needed to find time before then. I had already started cooking dinner which called the boys inside all on its own when they smelled it wafting through the open windows and a pouting Pam had already planted herself firmly in her favorite person’s lap. Eric’s.
I could hear her trying to convince Eric to throw her a party where she could wear a gown like Erica’s and from the look on his face, her batting lashes were working on him. I walked into the family room where they were sitting and collected the empty juice boxes left behind on the table from one of the kids saying, “No.”
Incensed, she turned to me whining, “But it’s not fair! Why can’t I get dressed up and go to a dance too?”
“You can,” I replied and her face lit up before I finished with, “when you’re about to graduate the eighth grade.”
She crossed her arms under her chest and huffed before asking, “Can I call Grandpa or Mormor and Morfar?”
Eric was like a prison warden on death row compared to the leniency the kids got from my father and Eric’s parents. I had to put the kibosh on more than one of their well meaning gifts the kids had begged for and Pam still hadn’t really forgiven me for sending back her pony. I raised my eyebrow at Eric letting him know it was time for him to step in and he reluctantly said, “Honey, your grandparents aren’t going to be throwing you a big party just so you can wear a fancy dress and dance. We just had a birthday party for you last weekend.”
“But no one danced! I want to have a dance party!”
We were both to blame for Pam’s behavior having spolied her as our youngest and we were paying the price for it now. I’d already decided I was done with her nonsense, but Eric must have lost all of the oxygen going to his brain since he was so tightly wound around Pam’s little finger.
“How about we have a little party here tonight with just the family? You can dress up and we can dance,” he offered.
“But won’t you dress up too? You always look so handsome when you do.”
I swear, I was about to spread out some towels underneath him to catch whatever leaked to the floor from him melting over her words. I could tell she saw it too and I didn’t know whether to be proud or scared she was my daughter.
“I will if Mommy will,” his voodoo magic eyes met mine and I sighed, nodding my head.
“Yay!” Pam shot up off of Eric’s lap and ran to her room with me dreading the mess her closet was about to turn into.
I turned and headed back into the kitchen with Eric on my heels saying, “It’ll be fun. You like dancing with me.”
I checked the casserole baking in the oven, while Eric checked the curve of my butt with his hands, and stood agreeing, “I do, almost as much as I enjoy doing very dirty things to you, but you realize now we won’t have any time to ourselves and we still need to pick up Erica, Stan, and Meg at midnight.”
I rubbed against the growing bulge in his pants with my backside and couldn’t help laughing at the look of horror on his face as the reality of our busy night sank in and tried to make him feel better saying, “Maybe we can have morning sex before they all wake up!”
“Too, Lover, not instead. We can have morning sex too; not instead of tonight.”
“By all means,” I pushed against his gracious plenty again, making him groan as punishment for making promises his body couldn’t keep, and pointed at the clock hanging on the wall saying, “show me the mystery block of time where we won’t be peeling Sam and Tommy apart from a death match over the X-Box, where Pam won’t be in her perceived proper place firmly attached to you, or where one of us won’t even be here since we’ve got to pick up Erica.”
I should’ve known by now that Eric didn’t fight fair, just ask poor Stan, because suddenly one hand was making its way down the front of my pants while the other slipped into my shirt as he whispered, using his voodoo magic voice, asking, “How long until dinner will be done?”
The things that man could do with his fingers alone could make my head spin in an instant and I shook the haze from my brain, looking at the timer on the stove and said, “Seven minutes; not enough time.”
I started pulling his hands from my clothing, not wanting to start something only to be left frustrated, but he merely tightened his arms around me saying, “Seven minutes is plenty of time. Didn’t you ever play ‘Seven Minutes In Heaven’ growing up?”
His fingers were still working my small bundle of nerves like a finely tuned instrument and even as I wantonly ground myself down on his hand and gripped the back of his head to keep his lips attached to my shoulder, I still managed to sound indignant saying, “No! I was a good girl.”
Eric managed to somehow lift me without ever stopping his fingers from playing my body and carried me off to the laundry room, saying, “Well you’re about to get a crash course in being a very bad, bad girl.”
He shut the door with his foot and licked his way up my shoulder, teasing the outer shell of my ear with his tongue and causing me to moan my approval before he whispered, “You have to be quiet or they’ll hear you.” Of course he followed that with a kiss and a nip to the spot below my ear that always drove me wild and just him saying I had to be quiet made me want to be that much louder.
The fingers of one hand dipped inside of my bra while the fingers of his other hand dipped inside of me with his palm rubbing up and down, applying delicious friction to my clit. My back arched and my lower half bucked wildly while I bit my lower lip trying to stifle the urge to cry out and reached around behind me to stroke Eric; it only seemed fair.
As soon as my hand slid inside of his jeans I felt, more than heard, the low growl in his chest. The sound of his excitement and knowing we could be interrupted at any moment was enough to have me tumbling over the cliff with nothing more than a choked sigh to possibly give away our location.
I turned my face to kiss Eric, trying to catch my breath at the same time, but he was having none of that. He pulled back after a moment declaring, “Five minutes, Lover.”
Was he seriously keeping track? I was just hoping the kids didn’t walk in, but Eric was standing close enough that his foot could block the door from opening. I no longer cared about the casserole, we could just order pizza if it burned. I would’ve told Eric all of that if he hadn’t pulled my pants down around my ankles and shoved my upper half forward so I was bent over in front of him with my hands leaning on the washing machine; it would be rude to interrupt him after all.
I felt the length of him slide its way through my folds as he whispered in my ear, “Tell me what you want Lover.”
“Jag vill att du ska knulla mig som du menar det. Tid är tynar bort.” (I want you to fuck me like you mean it. Time is wasting away.)
I wanted to laugh and chide him for growling so loud, but he quickly pounded the sentiment straight out of me. I knew the effect my speaking Swedish, not to mention dirty talk, had on him and loved his reaction whenever I combined the two. I loved the feel of him inside of me, never truly feeling complete without it, and gritted my teeth, whispering the words instead of begging out loud, “Ja baby, ja… hårdare… hårdare…” (Yes baby, yes…harder…harder…)
I nearly squealed in delight when he did just that, gripping my hips with one hand while snaking his other in front of me and working my clit in sync with his thrusts. My head dropped down, my neck unable to keep it upright any longer as all of my strength was tied up in the coiling tension low in my body. When Eric leaned forward I could feel him swell larger inside of me and knew he was close, so when he gently bit down on my shoulder, muffling his grunts from denying himself his own release, it was enough to make me explode from the inside out, as quietly as possible, with the only telltale signs being the spasms of my inner walls milking Eric’s own orgasm from him and the shuddering of my entire body.
Eric’s arms were the only thing keeping me from face planting on the washing machine and while I had no clue as to how he had any strength left, I was grateful nonetheless.
“Jag älskar dig,” he whispered against my neck before planting the lightest of kisses on my flushed cheek.
“I love you too.” God knows I did, more than anything.
Just as he was pulling out of me we both heard the oven timer sound that the casserole was done and he chuckled saying, “What did I tell you? We had more than enough time.”
I quickly righted my clothes and turned, wrapping my arms around his waist and looked up at him feeling nothing but the love I had for him saying, “Never…I’ll never have enough time with you.”
Eternity wouldn’t be long enough.