Among The Roses

Chapter 12: An Autumn Day (pt 2)

They began raking the leaves up into huge piles, and even though they had been wet mere days before, the wind had dried them sufficiently that they crackled satisfyingly under their rakes as they gathered them for bagging.

Drew couldn't resist falling, back first, into a huge pile of them, and did so with a loud whoosh as Chiara watched, laughing.

"Normally my brother would be doing this with me," he told her as he stood up and did it again. "And William Wallace as well. And my mum would be taking photographs of the whole process."

"Well, too bad they're not here with you, then," Chiara commiserated.

Drew looked at her with a speculative gleam in his eye that she didn't recognize in time, and the next thing she knew, Chiara was lying in a pile of leaves, looking up at the deep blue sky. A shriek of surprise escaped her, much to her embarrassment.

"I can't believe you did that!" she gasped.

"Oh, come on, it was fun, admit it," he laughed.

"You pushed me, you wanker!" She struggled to sit up. "I am so getting you back--" she warned him. She pushed him before he registered what she was saying, and he went down, hard, in the same pile he'd just risen from.

She then added insult to injury by grabbing a handful of leaves and shoving them down the front of his hoodie while laughing. The leaves tickled him so much that he then started laughing, so hard he could barely breathe. She pressed her advantage by straddling his chest and grabbing another handful of leaves and rubbing them in his face.

"No! Chiara, no! Ouf! That tickles! Oh god, I can't breathe, fuck me!" He was nearly helpless with laughter, writhing underneath her. He finally was able to tip her off into the leaves, and retaliated by sitting on her midriff the way she'd just done to him. The difference was that he outweighed her by at least fifty pounds, and she really couldn't move.

She was wearing overalls, and he did like she had, stuffing the crunchy leaves down the front of her bib, tickling her and making her laugh. She wasn't nearly as ticklish as he was, however, and she did laugh, though not to the point of not being to breathe, like he had.

He was aware of his arm brushing against her not insubstantial breasts as he stuffed the leaves down her front, and he yanked his arm out, wondering if she noticed and would call him out on it. She just kept laughing and rolling around under him, however, and he took a figurative sigh of relief.

She did try to bring her legs up to kick him off her; this maneuver nearly worked, since her legs were so strong; he had to squeeze her very tightly with his thighs to keep her underneath him.

"Stop wiggling, you little minx," he gasped, grabbing her hands and holding them down in an attempt to keep her from struggling.

He could see that her color was high, and she was breathing hard, her dimple was impossibly deep as she grinned up at him. Her hair had come partially undone, and had leaves tangled in it, like she was a woodland sprite, and her lips were impossibly red.

She was beautiful.

While most of him was registering the sunny day, the blue sky, and the impossibly pretty girl lying underneath him, another part of him, some rogue part that he seemed to have no control over, bent down and kissed her on her gorgeous, luscious mouth.

He realized as his lips touched hers that he was still straddling her, holding her trapped underneath him as his hand held both her wrists prisoner above her head.

He immediately released her wrists, hoping that a slap or worse wasn't coming his way, since technically he'd stolen this kiss from her. At the same time, he relaxed his thighs, letting her know that she was free to do as she wished, that she was not his captive any longer.