Somewhere Else

Chapter 2: Bump in the Road (iv)

"I heard you cheated on me today," Aksel says, smiling a little as he leans in to kiss me lightly on the lips in greeting. This is the first thing he says when he walks through the door into our apartment after work. Not hello, not how was your day, but an indirect reference to my stupid mistake earlier on.

I pull back from him, feeling the fire start up in my cheeks again. "They told you?" Do his friends report to him every single detail of our time together? I feel like a child that the grown-ups take turns to babysit and share entertaining stories about.

Aksel's hands land on my shoulders. "Hey," he says, bending a little to look me in the eye, even though I'm trying to avoid his gaze. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Making mistakes is part of the learning process."

"Yeah, I know," I mutter, turning away from him.

He pulls me back, anchoring my back against his chest, and then dips his head to nuzzle my neck. He presses light, quick kisses all the way down to my shoulder blade, then moves back up to lick the shell of my ear. "Kulta... What's wrong?"

Kulta – literally, it means 'gold'. I've learnt enough Finnish to know that people usually use it to refer to their loved ones, particularly for their significant others or their own children. He has been calling me that a lot, especially since I've moved to Helsinki. I know it's a term of endearment in Finland, but it means nothing to me. It's just another foreign word that I need to translate in my mind when I hear it.

Sometimes, I miss the days when we were still in a long-distance relationship in uni – the days when he used to call me Schatz. He spoke a lot more German back then.

But the guilt sinks in again just as I think this, and I turn around in his arms, smiling tremulously at him. He's looking at me with those piercing ice-blue eyes of his, those same eyes that had sent a shiver through me when our eyes met for the first time back in Edinburgh so long ago. I fist my hands in his shirt, not caring that I'm crumpling the fabric, and lean up. He bends down at the same time and catches my lips with his, his hands sliding up to hold onto the back of my skull so that he can kiss me properly.

I close my eyes and let the feelings wash over me, smiling into the kiss. There's just something about being near, being in contact with him, that puts me immediately at ease. At least with him, in this, I don't need to navigate the muddy waters of cultural differences or language barriers.

"Bedroom?" he murmurs in my ear. Before I can reply, however, he bends and sweeps me up in his arms and carries me into the bedroom. Once there, he nudges the door shut with his foot before depositing me onto the bed. I bounce once, twice on the mattress, and then again as he clambers over me. I sit up and push at him, so that he has to roll over to get out of my way. When he tumbles backwards onto the bed, I climb astride him.

The conversation with Tatiana earlier in the day drifts back into my mind, and I feel a strong surge of possessiveness come over me. I lean forward and cup his face with my hands, looking into his eyes, as if doing so will mark him, brand him as mine. "Mine," I whisper.

My Aksel. Mine.

Surprised, he stares at me for a moment, before his lips curve upwards. "Yeah, yours," he agrees easily, grabbing me by my waist and lifting me so that I'm positioned more comfortably on top of him. Then he lets go of me and lies back, watching me expectantly. Giving me control. Waiting for my next move.

I smile and lean down.

***

A while later, I collapse on Aksel's chest, absently pressing light kisses onto his skin. I'm breathing hard, trying to catch my breath, and I can hear his ragged breaths too. But I'm smiling. We both are.