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Spencer was sprawled out on the bedside chair staring at Trina as she slept, her lips parted slightly, looking more beautiful, more peaceful than he had ever seen her. He could watch her sleep, would watch her sleep forever if given the chance. Her breath, so soft except in those moments of her dream where she was obviously troubled. Then, she would groan and furl her brows, shifting to one side then the other, but always returning to stillness; the fiercely resilient, breathtakingly beautiful being that had stopped him dead in his tracks at their first meeting almost two years ago. A lot had happened to them–between them–since then, but one thing remained unchanged in Spencer's mind: the story of his adult life began and would end with her.
It had been a long night, but a fun one. Spencer had gotten to share in Britt's first birthday celebration, which was crazy since she was well into her thirties. And, more importantly–for Spencer at least–he had gotten to bring in the new year with Trina. Even if the likelihood was high that she wouldn't remember it, he was grateful for those few lively hours celebrating with the women he loved and for this small moment, quietly watching as Trina stirred from her sleep.
Trina lifted her head from the plush pillow. The sunlight beamed through a corner of the curtain and landed on the empty space in the bed next to her. She looked groggily around the room before her senses adjusted and her eyes settled on Spencer sitting across from her, smiling.
"Spencer?" she said softly.
"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" he answered.
Trina lifted herself to a seated position in the bed, noticing that but for her shoes, she was still clothed in what she had been wearing the night before. She smoothed her hair with her hand, awkwardly. "What happened? Where am I?"
"The Metro Court." And, answering the quizzical look on Trina's face, he continued. "Somebody had a little too much champagne last night in celebration of the new year."
Trina lowered her head in abject humiliation.
"Oh, no! What happened?"
"Well, there was dancing. Lots of dancing. Lots of hugs and I love yous to just about everyone in Port Charles. And who knew you knew so many showtoons?" Spencer laughed.
"You've got to be joking."
"Oh, no. I have video if you wanna see," Spencer pulled his phone from his back pocket.
"No, no. I don't. And if you know what's good for you, you'll erase whatever video evidence you have," Trina playfully warned, shifting herself to the side of the bed so that she was facing him.
"How do you feel?" Spencer's tone had changed from one of teasing to one of concern. He knew hangovers were no joke.
"Surprisingly okay." She answered.
"No headache?"
Trina shook her head gently.
"Good. Well, I took the liberty of ordering breakfast. Eggs Florentine for me. Toast and coffee for you."
Trina shot him a look.
"What, I thought you'd be hungover? Plus, it dawned on me that I have no idea what you eat for breakfast...I can order you anything you'd like. Just name it."
Trina paused to collect her thoughts. "No, that's fine. I–actually..." Her face fell and Spencer sensed some concern.
"What is it?"
"I–I'd like to...freshen up..."
"Of course. The concierge service here is first rate. They're bringing you a change of clothes. Should be here any minute."
Trina's eyes narrowed and her mouth fell open. "How...?"
"There's no point in being rich if you don't take advantage of things like a full-service concierge. I just guessed at the sizes, so I hope everything fits." He had thought it a gracious gesture, but now, standing in front of her relaying the information, Spencer felt embarrassed. His spoiled, entitled rich kid was showing–something for which Trina continually called him out. "I guess I shouldn't have been so presumptuous. I just figured you might want to, uh, freshen up before you go home..."
Trina smiled nervously. "Thank you, Spencer. That was thoughtful." They sat in silence for a few seconds, avoiding eye contact with each other before Trina broke through the tension. "I guess I'll go...do just that."
Trina retreated to the bathroom and locked the door. Her heart pounded, and she leaned against the bathroom vanity to catch her breath. The polished porcelain gray tile was warm beneath her bare feet and, had this been under any other circumstance, she would have marveled at the luxury of the place. But right now, all she felt was embarrassed. She had just awakened in a hotel room with Spencer after a night of partying and drinking of which she had no clarity. Trina was still recovering from the effects of the last time something like this happened.
The last time–and she still wasn't clear on all the details–certain truths had been forced to light. She wondered if the same had happened last night and what it would mean if the truth of her feelings for Spencer were no longer a secret to him. Despite the destructive forces unleashed in her life since they met, she craved the chaos Spencer caused in her head, in her heart and in her body. But she didn't want him to know that just yet. And certainly, not like this. For his part, Spencer had not acted any differently this morning. But he was an expert at pretending, at hiding truths. She wanted to believe that that part of who he was had been laid to rest for good. Fine, she thought, I'll just ask him, flustered by the idea that in her celebratory state–her I love yous to all of Port Charles–one very real, very deep one may have landed in Spencer's ear.
Trina turned on the shower, stepped in and tried to quiet her mind. She stood under the stream and closed her eyes, the heat of the water a welcome sensation against her skin.
After her shower, Trina pulled on the plush white Metro Court bathrobe that was hanging on the bathroom hook. She was still a bit embarrassed by the story of her behavior the night before and wondered how she might face all the people at the party again.
When she stepped out of the bathroom, breakfast had arrived and Spencer was standing at the room service cart pouring coffee.
"How do you take it?" he asked over his shoulder.
"Uh, cream and sugar," she said softly. She clutched the robe closed at her throat and walked slowly to the foot of the bed where she sat down.
"Of course you do," Spencer laughed slyly.
Trina rolled her eyes, smiled and took the coffee cup from him. Spencer pushed the cart in front of her and uncovered her plate. She smiled. Eggs Florentine.
"Feel better?" he asked.
"I do."
Spencer pulled up a chair and sat across from her, the cart of food between them and they dug into their breakfast.
"Spencer, can I ask you something?"
"Of course"
"How bad was I?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean...show tunes?" She asked, chickening out on the question she really wanted to ask.
Spencer laughed. "No, it was great! The crowd couldn't get enough!"
Trina smiled, embarrassed. "So, what happened next? I mean, how did I end up here?" She looked around the hotel room.
Spencer nodded knowingly.
"Well, your mother and Curtis left the party long before your Disney medley started. You were adamant that you weren't ready to leave until the cleaning crew was practically kicking us out. I didn't want to have to wake up your mom, or Joss so I just...brought you back here so you could sleep the night off."
"And...?" Trina said, expectantly.
Spencer smiled. "And, that's it. You passed out on the bed and I slept here in the chair."
"You slept in that chair all night? I'm so sorry."
"It's okay. It's surprisingly comfortable. Carly has refined taste, considering."
Trina settled in, taking bites of her breakfast. "This is delicious," she offered.
"Glad you like it."
He motioned with his head to the closet. "The concierge arrived with your clothes, so when you're done eating you can change and I'll get you home."
"For my walk of shame," she said, half-jokingly.
"You have nothing to be ashamed of," he reassured. "I promise."
They sat in a moment of awkward silence with nothing but the clinking of silverware against china as they ate to break it until Trina spoke up hesitantly.
"So, nothing happened between us?"
Spencer's smile faded and he lowered his head. Trina instantly felt panic rise in her chest. Her face felt hot and tears began to well in her eyes.
Spencer stared past her fear-filled face, into his memory. She had been unsteady on her feet, so he carried her into the room and placed her on the bed.
"Spencer," she had called out to him, her arms still wrapped around his neck.
"Yes, Trina?" he had asked.
She did not answer him with words. Instead, she had lifted her face to his until their lips touched, however briefly. He had closed his eyes, having dreamt of this for months; having wanted this moment to last, but he knew it couldn't. He pulled away from her, and she opened her eyes abruptly at his rejection.
"You don't want to kiss me?" She asked softly.
He looked away from her, biting his bottom lip trying to think of what to say. "Of course, I do." He raised his lips to her forehead and planted a kiss there before whispering, "Get some sleep."
She lay back down and he placed himself in the chair next to her, watching her breath slow as sleep came over her.
Trina stared silently into the space between her and Spencer for what seemed like the longest time. What could she say to that?
Spencer could sense her impending panic. "Trina, don't worry. I won't hold you to anything you said or did last night...or else, you'd owe me $10,000.
Trina looked at him quizzically.
"Well, you bet me a week's allowance that you could beat me in a foot race and, well, you lost. And I wasn't even running; it's just that you stopped short of the finish line because you saw a dress you liked in a shop window."
Trina laughed at herself, relieved that she hadn't made a complete mess of the night and that she didn't have to ante up on the bet. "Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome."
A thick silence lingered between them in the room. Breakfast finished, Spencer wheeled the cart to the hall. "Well," he offered, "I'm going to hop in the shower while you're getting dressed, then I guess I can take you home."
Trina nodded and sat back down on the bed. When Spencer disappeared into the bathroom, she went to the closest to retrieve the garment bag. She laid it on the bed, and as she unzipped it, a smile crept across her face. There was a dress inside–yellow with white and green flowers on it. It was beautiful.
She quickly slipped on the dress and marveled at how well it fit her small frame. She turned to look at herself in the mirror and smiled, smoothing out the bodice of the dress with her hand. The fabric was so soft. She was playing with her hair, trying to decide if she should wear it down or put it up when Spencer emerged from the bathroom wearing his own plush Metro Court robe. He was drying his hair with a towel.
"Spencer, is this...the dress from the shop window?" Trina asked, turning side to side to model the dress.
He smiled proudly. "You like it?"
"I love it. Thank you." She she stared down at the dress and back up at Spencer, now suddenly more serious. "Where are your clothes?"
Spencer walked over to a chest of drawers and opened one. "Unlike you, I live here," he said with a grin.
"Right!" she replied.
Spencer grabbed some clothes from the drawer and began heading back to the bathroom.
"Spencer," Trina called out.
Spencer stopped in his tracks and turned to her.
"Yeah?"
Trina motioned to the back of her dress. "Can you help me?"
Spencer tossed his clothes on the bed and walked over to where Trina was standing. He brushed her hair over her shoulder to reveal the dress's zipper, which was already closed. Confused, he asked, "Is it stuck?"
"No," Trina said softly. "I want you to unzip it."
Spencer paused. His breath deepened, he swallowed hard and his pulse quickened in his throat. He slowly unzipped the dress, revealing the smooth brown wings of her shoulder blades.
Trina turned to face him, her eyes affixed to his, her mouth slightly open and pouty. "I want you to take it off."
"Trina," Spencer took a step back and ran his hand through his hair. However much he wanted this, he couldn't believe it might be happening.
Trina took a step toward him, her hand tracing the split in the robe that revealed his bare chest. She felt his skin, still warm and moist from the shower. She felt the muscles of his abdomen tighten. She kept moving towards him until he fell to the bed. She stood in front of him, looking into his eyes, which were peering into hers, wanton. She felt his hands move slowly up her thighs and continue up her torso and the sides of her breast until the dress was lifted over her head and thrown to the floor.
She stood there, stark naked under his gaze and she had never felt so safe. She lifted herself onto his lap, straddling him, and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Spencer buried his face into the crook of her neck and shoulders, the smell of her skin, her hair, the sound of her breath filling his senses. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he whispered against her cheek.
She leaned her head back to catch his eyes and gave a slight nod before catching his bottom lip between hers. She kissed him hungrily, pulling his face to hers and running her fingers through his hair.
His hands were positioned on her hips and he moved with her back and forth as she rubbed herself the emerging hardness under his robe. She felt powerful, watching as he closed his eyes and let out a small groan as she moved into him.
Spencer stood up with Trina in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist. He whipped around until he was facing the bed and Trina let out an excited shriek. He smiled at her, pulled her head to his in a kiss before laying her gently on the bed. He removed his robe to reveal himself erect to her. And as Trina lay there beneath him, ready to receive him, all of the questions and doubts he had had about himself in that moment fell away.
He lowered himself to her, until his mouth was just above her ear. "I am so in love with you," he whispered. "I think I have been since the moment we met."
Trina shifted her head to look at him. His eyes were so sincere. She pulled him to her, kissing him, finding his tongue with hers. She closed her eyes as she felt his mouth release from hers and land, first on her cheek, then her neck just behind her ear. He continued down to the soft skin of her suprasternal notch. His breath, his lips, his teeth over the nipple of one breast, then the other. Automatic, Trina's muscles tightened as his tongue tickled down to her navel, the dark line that trails beneath it all the way to her clit. When he reached there, she arched herself closer to him. He licked her there softly at first—pausing as she blew breath from her mouth, then ravenously. She grabbed his hair in both of her hands and pushed his head into her, guiding it, his mouth, his tongue, in time with the movement of her hips and the rhythm of her breath. He moaned in delight as she squeezed his hair between her fingers, his head between her thighs. He owed her so much and wanted nothing more than to please her. In this and every moment.
Wetness poured from her, dripped down his chin as her writhing quickened, as her breaths shortened and quickened and she moaned until her body shook, her voice was taken away by its force. She lay back in stillness, shivering from his continued kisses, first on the inner folds of her thighs, then back up the way he had gone down until he had reached the lips of her mouth with his, parted them and let her taste herself as he had.
Spencer brushed the hair back from Trina's face and looked at her with a smile. She looked at him, biting her bottom lip in anticipation of him. She pulsed in anticipation of feeling him inside her.
He stood up, slid open the nightstand drawer and removed from it a small black packet. Trina seized the moment, tracing her hand across his lips, grasping his throat before continuing on across the hard surface of his chest, his abs, his shaft. She gripped it and he let out a soft groan, thrusting his body in time with the motion of her hand. Spencer's eyes disappeared to the back of his head, his mouth falling open in step with hers as she took him in. Instinctively, his hands cupped her head as she moved slowly back and forth, gently flicking her tongue into the opening of his tip, tightening her tongue and lips around him before inching deeper for more.
"Oh, God," he moaned as the heat withdrew from the periphery of his body and concentrated itself like a spotlight at the core of his being, where Trina had positioned herself ready to siphon his soul.
He pulled himself away from her at the height. Trina looked up at him, a sly grin crept across her lips, which she parted ready to take him in again.
Spencer could not manage words and only shook his head no. He took in a moment, standing naked in front of her in every conceivable way he could be. He took a big swallow of air as he examined her face, scanned every curve, every angle of her body. Her eyes were wide and questioning and, for a brief moment, it gutted him to think he could ever again leave her with any doubt. I want you. My god, do I want you.
Watching him watch her, Trina tilted her head to the side and subtly nodded her head yes in answer to a question that had not been asked. He took the sign, ripped open the black package, unfurled the condom it held and guided himself inside her.
She was so soft, so warm, wrapping around him. Like a suit that was perfectly tailored. He felt in ecstasy there, lifting her hips with his hands to sink deeper–Trina, catching her breath every time.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.
She looked at him earnestly and nodded her head.
He kissed her and they continued this dance, slowly, deeply until Trina could feel the little pulses of him in her become stronger and quicker until he erupted with a soft roar and a final thrust into her, breathing heavily into her ear. Then he was quiet again and still, still inside her. She held him in her arms and dragged her nails up and down the spine of his back as his breathing slowed.
Spencer sat up on his elbow to get a better view of Trina. She was beautiful, with her hair mussed against the satin pillow, her eyes fixed to the ceiling. "What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?"
Trina looked at him with a soft smile and shook her head. "No," she said softly. "I was just thinking...." her voice trailed off.
"About what?"
"How much I've wanted this. How long I've wanted this. How afraid I've been–
"Afraid? Of what?" Spencer asked anxiously.
"Of you." Trina looked at him, but he shifted his gaze away. "Of my feelings for you. I let myself get caught up in you. Without a parachute. Without any kind of safety net. When everything about my life makes so much sense to me, you make none and...it's scary, but I like how that feels. I like how it feels when I'm with you. Like I have permission to be free, to be out of control. A version of myself with which I am not well acquainted. And I knew if I let myself, I could just fall–"
A single tear trailed down Trina's cheek. Spencer drew her into the crook of him and stroked her arm with his fingers.
"There are a lot of things about the last few years that I would change, Trina. But if changing any of it meant that I wouldn't have met you–that I wouldn't be here right now, then I'd do it all the same. And I know that's messed up considering what has happened to you, to Joss and Cam, to my father and even to Ava. But, you are the single best thing that's ever happened in my life..."
Trina smiled. "That's sweet of you to say."
Spencer lifted up so that he could face her with all earnestness in his eyes. "It's the truth. And I just want...I want to be for you everything that you are for me..."
Trina caressed his cheek in her hand and pulled him to her, planting a kiss on his lips. He relaxed again onto the pillow, as she claimed her place on his chest, her head rising and falling in time with his breathing.
It was Spencer who broke the silence, as if finishing out loud the thought in his head. "...everything that happened to get us here."
"Yeah," Trina exhaled, "but here we are." She burrowed herself more firmly against him and closed her eyes, whispering, "Finally."