Recreating History, Repairing Mistakes

Part 11

Her head hits the counter with an audible sight of disapproval when the second knock sounds through the trailer. They had ignored it the first time, intend on ignoring the next few, too until their unexpected guest would get bored and take a hike. But he had suddenly stopped behind her, * within her * and let out a sound of realization, as if he had just remembered something she had no idea about. Then she'd heard the voices.

"Maybe they're still asleep" They can just so make out Betty's voice through the closed door. It's like the teenager's pitched her speech low on purpose, so not to wake anyone should they actually still be asleep. The fact that they are standing far enough away from the bedroom, and behind a surprisingly solid door, doesn't seem to register in Betty's mind at the moment. "Why don't you just use your key?"

It had been Alice's idea to invite the children over for breakfast, in an attempt to maybe bring some normalcy into all this mess she's created. She's still Alice, so she blames FP for a good part of it, too, but she's aware, the only one who had been actively destroying her marriage, had been her. So in the spirit of fixing things, she had extended the invitation some days earlier and had been pleasantly surprised when her daughter hadn't shut her down immediately. She hadn't accepted on the spot either, but after a lengthy conversation with her sister, who had refused to come because this was something between the two of them, the girl had texted her mother they'd be there on Saturday.

Betty had kept her promise, but now Alice wishes she'd never came up with the idea. Why did it have to be nine o'clock breakfast at their trailer? Why couldn't she have made it twelve o'clock lunch at Pop's? Or seven o'clock dinner anywhere but here? Because it wouldn't have mattered, wouldn't have changed their current situation in the slightest. They still wouldn't have been able to keep their hands off of each other, and probably still would have ended up half naked on the nearest solid surface just minutes before they should be ready.

After a very, very long night, and three orgasms on her part just since they'd woke up this morning she'd been sore enough to promise herself she'd kill him if he tried to touch her before next week. And then he had walked out of the bathroom in loose fitting sweatpants and shirtless, hair still damp from his shower and she'd forgotten all about that. She had abandoned her attempt to set the breakfast table, shimmied out of the barely there scrap of underwear she'd thrown on earlier and had walked up to him, hips swaying and a mischievous glint in her eyes. The last time she can remember being that horny was when she had been pregnant with Betty, but since she adamantly refuses to indulge that idea (It's not like it would be way too early to feel like that anyway), she puts it down to just him. She would have been contend in doing nothing but him back when she'd been a teenager, too. When he had broken their kiss and bent her over the counter she didn't even remember why they were out off bed at this hour anyway.

"And what if they're not * sleeping*?" Jughead might not have told his girlfriend about this particular occurrence, but he has his reasons for not just barging into his father's trailer using his key. Seeing your father with his hands down his girlfriend's pants makes you rethink things like that. He had been pretty confident about not relaying what he'd walked into without the adults' pleading looks. The last thing either three of them needed had been to make this already delicate situation even worse than it is.

"Eww..." It's the sound of her daughter's voice that finally gets the two adults into motion. He pushes away from her and she has to bite her lip, hard, to keep any sudden, loud noises from spilling out at the sensation. She incredibly worked up and he's still painfully hard, but she slips past him to retrieve her panties from where she's let them fall earlier and pushes him softly in the direction of the bedroom.

"You should go take care of that" It's a whisper, because she doesn't trust for her voice not to carry through the door and the still waiting teenagers. They're both surprised the door hasn't been opened yet despite all of his son's protests. There's also a teasing smirk on her lips when she brushes her fingers lightly over his boxers that leaves no question to what she thinks he should be taking care of.