stress

I hurt. Like, really hurt. The throbbing stabs of pain shot through my jaw, in my neck, my shoulders, my back, up through my head, wrapping around. Not a big deal though. Take some meds, right? Sure. The doctors had all thought at first that it was a jaw-locking thing. Told me to keep my mouth relaxed, no clenching. I told them I was. After all, jaw has to be relaxed for…yeah. I didn't tell them that part though. So they told me to take small bites, nothing chewy, nothing hard. So I quit some things: no gum or soft candies (too chewy); no bagels (too difficult to chew); and no Nick (gotta make sure I don't open too wide). And hey, if I could overcome my oral fixation in the midst of it all…
     Of course, that didn't work. So I was re-examined (reality being all those who did the examining needed their heads examined…right). We found that it didn't seem to be clenching or grinding the teeth. Nope. In fact, nothing oral. I silently rejoiced at this. No, the doctor said, it was all stress. She asked me what I do. I rattled of a list of my (apparently full) schedule.
     "You do too much!" she had exclaimed in that 'mom' tone, with the 'mom' look on her face.
     "I do too much?" I had repeated. She had nodded. Yeah, I do too much Nick, I had silently thought. So, instead of reorganizing my self, and cutting out other stuff, my mind had made the twisted jump to too much sex=stress and I quit Nick. Cold turkey. Just like that, altogether. I figured that without sex to distract me, I could get my work done instead of procrastinating and flipping out and then getting all stressed out cuz that makes me tense and then I hurt…and that's where I was now. Sitting on the floor, in front of my laptop, surrounded by research materials, staring at an almost blank screen, trying to figure out what to write for an article that was due the next morning, in under 12 hours, and I was in pain. But it was all good. I'd just take some advil. A few of them. Like three. Of the big ones. The horse pill size. My eyes teared up in pain. Strong arms wrapped around my shoulders.
     "Crying won't help any baby," Nick whispered in my ear as he sat on the floor behind me, wrapping me up tightly.
     I tried shrugging him off. "Nick, I have to get this article done. My editor needs it by 8 tomorrow morning."
     "Katie, that's hours and hours away. You've written longer transcripts in much shorter amounts of time."
     "Yeah and that procrastinating is why you aren't getting laid!"I snapped. Ouch. Shit. Anger doesn't seem to help any.
     Nick ignored my anger, placing his hands on my shoulders when he saw me flinch, massaging lightly. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. you seem to want to blame, in some part, our extremely active sex life, no matter how much you enjoy it, and how much the idea is kinda ridiculous. Maybe it's guilt at not focusing as much on work and the "important" stuff. But just so you know, it is all important. Yeah, the sex, but more than that. I love you Katie."
     I sighed. "Role-reversal here?" I asked, referring to all the times I had helped get him out of whatever his latest funk was.
     I could feel him smiling against me at my question. "Yes. Let me be sappy dammit, and if anyone finds out, we'll just blame it on sexual frustration." I laughed quietly. "Anyways, so you found something to blame, stopped that activity, and you're still hurting, so that obviously wasn't the solution. So let's figure out what's wrong, ok?" I nodded. He moved his hands to my jaw, slowly massaging. His body heat radiated, slowly dispersing the pain.
     I moaned slightly. "Mmmm…your hands are hot."
     "Is that a bad thing?"
     I shook my head. "It feels really nice."
     "Ok then, quit clenching your jaw so that we can actually get the desired positive effect from this." I relaxed slightly. "Good girl. Now, what's the problem?"
     "Well Dr. Nick," I teased a little before getting more serious. "I'm getting too tense."
     "No shit? Cuz I couldn't figure that out from feeling you." His hands moved down slowly, now on my neck.          "Now, why are you…shit there's this huge knot here…why are you all tense?"
     "I start doing other stuff, pushing my work back constantly, then when it came down to the wire, I'd finally start doing my work. I guess doing that for so long just finally built up on me and just fucked me up there."
     "So you just cut out the other stuff?" His hands were kneading into my shoulders now.
     I nodded slowly. "It's not a matter of getting rid of the other stuff; it was more like prioritizing. I figured I would have to get work done before I could do the leisurely things."
     He made a face. "Let's not say 'prioritize' and instead just say that you tried to cut things out, ok?" I nodded.           "Ok then, so you got rid of other stuff, and tried to get organized. Right?" I nodded again. "But you're still stressing out, right? Why?"
     "Because I can't get my fucking work done!" I tensed up again.
     "Hey, hey, no tensing! Dammit, you're gonna screw up my good work!" His hands lowered to my arms, slowly working into them. "And now that you can't get work done, you get more anxious, more stressed, and that means that you get back to not being able to do your work. It's this never ending cycle, right?" I nodded. "So maybe you just expect to be all worked up and anxious." His hands were on my back, working through the knots. "So, not to seem like a total obvious dumbass here, but maybe the answer is to keep your muscles relaxed, right?"      I rolled my eyes at him even though he couldn't see my face while nodding. He continued. "Good. I'm glad that we're agreeing on this then." His hands left me. "Wait here." He got up and ran upstairs. Wait here? Cuz yeah, I was so going anywhere. Because it wasn't like I had this huge article to write and I really hadn't gotten started much on it and it wasn't going anywhere and on top of that I hadn't just gotten this great massage and wasn't too relaxed to move anywhere let alone type a brilliant, mind-blowing, hard hitting article and…and…and…
     …and Nick was back, a small basket in one hand, a small towel in the other. I recognized the basket. It was one that held several small vials of massage oils. I had bought it after Nick had returned home from the last leg of the tour, sore, bruised, and tense. I would use them to work out the knots as he lay under me, telling me about the tour. I realized with a start that he had never been able to finish any of his stories; we usually ended up having sex before the end.
     He set the basket next to me, kissing me lightly on the cheek before turning back to the couch to grab a pillow. He started to sit behind me again before stopping, looking around the room critically.
     "Up," he demanded, reaching his hand to me. I looked at him, eyebrow raised. "Up woman, up!" he demanded again, this time more impatiently. He reached out his hand; I accepted, letting him help me up. He led me over to a cleared area of the carpet. Tossing the pillow down, he spread the blanket I had been wrapped in on the floor.     Crouching next to this new makeshift "bed", he arranged the pillow at the top of the blanket before gathering all the bottles from the basket and laying them on the floor next to the blanket. He crawled back to my feet, standing back up in front of me. Watching him, I tried to keep my face expressionless but as he looked down at me, I couldn't. I let a small smile slip out.
     He leaned down, kissing me lightly again. "I love you," he said, pulling me down slowly. "I hate seeing you like this Katie." He sat on the blanket, me in his lap. "I wish you hadn't just cut me off." I started to protest, but he quieted me, putting his fingers over my lips. "I don't mean the sex, sweetheart. All of it. You can't just stress out and not let me help." He pulled my face to his chest, running his hands through my hair. "Whenever something's wrong with me, you make me fix it, you HELP me fix it. Why didn't you let me help you?"
     I smothered my face in his chest, inhaling deeply. God, I missed his smell-a mix of his cologne and his soap and his natural Nick-smell. I felt his arms tighten around me, pulling me even closer. Sitting there, totally warm, totally safe, being completely protected by his sheer strength, I couldn't even imagine what had possessed me to wall myself off from him, from all this.
     "I don't like this, Nick. I *hate* hurting, I hate not being able to write ANYTHING and I absolutely hate not being with you." I pulled back slightly, looking up at his face. "I miss this. Just sitting here, in your arms. I miss you."
     He smiled slightly. "Then why did you shut me out?" he asked, kissing my forehead.
     I sighed, pulling back some more. "Women's lib, Nicky. I'm one stubbornly independent bitch." He laughed quietly into my hair. I sighed again, trying to get out of his grasp. "I really should get back to my article."
     He pouted at me. "Why?" he almost whined. "Have we solved the problem yet?"
     I looked up at him. "We? This is a 'we' problem?"
      He frowned. "Yes! Isn't that what we were *just* discussing? We talk things out dammit!" I flinched, setting my jaw again. He caught my action, his eyes softening. "I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to get upset." I nodded, my lips pursed. "It's just, shit. I mean, you sit here, in total pain, you don't talk to me, you won't tell me anything…I can't just sit back and let this happen." His hands were now twining in my hair. "When I'm hurt-mentally, physically, emotionally, WHATEVER-you sit my ass down and make me work it out. Whatever it is, you take care of me, get me back to normal."
     I glanced up, biting my lip in an attempt to keep from giggling, my eyebrows raised. He grinned. "Ok, ok, as normal as *I* can be!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. I let a smile out, it faltering however, as he drew closer. "Let me help you baby. Please. I had this whole therapy session thing going; at least let me finish it."
     I glanced down again. "Ok," I said quietly.
     He broke out into a large grin. "Good girl. Ok then, lay down." I started to lower my body onto the blanket, only to be grabbed again. "Wait!" he exclaimed, vise-like grip on my arm.
     I glared at him. "Thank you, I didn't need that shoulder," I muttered, rubbing the new injury.
     He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. It's just that, ummm, I sorta, well, I sorta remembered something."
     "Is everything ok?" I asked, half impatiently, half worried. No matter how upset I was, I would always worry a little. Partly because this was Nick and he gets these ideas, but also partly because I love him and can't help but worry.
     The look in his eyes changed slightly, taking on a mischivious sparkle. Now I was really worried (reason #1). Nick started tugging on the hem of my shirt. "You may need to take this off. After all, we may kinda get massage oil on it, it'll stain, means more laundry, means more stress…really not worth the trouble." I laughed at him as I lifted my tank top. He continued eyeing me quizically, rocking on his heels, before leaning in and placing his hands on the waistband of my sweats. "These may need to come off too," he muttered, trying to appear caught up only in the "job" aspect of this. I lifted my hips for him as he slid the pants off, pausing only slightly to place a light kiss on my stomach. He tossed them to the side, turning back to me. "Ok, roll over now."
     I rolled onto my stomach, settling down. I heard him behind me, rattleing through the bottles. The nosie stopped, and I could feel him settling over me. A thought flashed through my head. "Hey Nicky," I mumbled. He made an interrogative grunt. "You're sitting on me…" I trailed off.
     He leaded down, his face next to mine. "Am I hurting you? Cuz I can figure some other way to do this, but I'll make it hard."
     Totally relaxed, fried from the stress, the start of the massage and the promise of more, added to that whole "Hey, Nick's on top of me" giddy feeling, my brain fell into the gutter. "I'm sure it will make it hard," I smirked.
He groaned loudly before breaking into a laugh. "I knew you were still in there somewhere! I missed this you." He sat up again, lifting his weight off of me. "So was there a reason for your comment, or did you just feel the need to make commentary on the obvious?"
     "Mmmm, just thinking about the massage oil. It'll be all over my back and you'll be sitting there"
     "And how does this help me any to understand what you're saying?" he asked, slightly exasperated. I could almost hear him rolling his eyes.
     "Well sweetheart, if you're that worried about the laundry," I mumbled, "you should probably take off your pants."
     Silence. I waited for his reaction. And waited. Finally, I felt him lift off of me. I craned my neck slightly, trying to see what he was doing. Shaking with silent laughter, he was unbuttoning his pants, wrigling out of them. I grinned, turning back. He settled above me, straddling me again. I felt his hands on my back, unclasping my bra, before feeling the cool liquid on my skin, quickly warmed by his hands.
     "Tell me about your article," he finally said. "Tell me what you're writing, where it's going, what you're trying to say."
     I started talking, half sentences, one word answers, each response I gave him split up by maons and gasps as his large hands worked deeper into my muscles. My brain short-circuited as he moved down my back, up my sides. A thought fluttered through my head as I felt his bared thighs brushing against my naked side; I wondered if that was how he had always felt when our positions were reveresed. If It was, then I had no idea how he was ever able to tell me his tour stories. Maybe that was why we always ended up having sex. Speaking of which…
     "Nn," I attempted to verbalize. "Nick," I tried again. He made a questioning sound. "Nick, listen to me."
     "Katie, sweetie, I am listening. I'm always listening. Whenever you wanna-"
     "-Nick!" I interrupted. "Thank you for listening, I understand you want me to talk to you, that you want to help me, but I can't talk if you're doing that! Stop!"
     "doing what?!? What am I doing wrong?"
     I reached back, smacking his hands away. "You short-cicuited my brain. I'm a writer and your hands are enough to keep me from getting a complete sentecne out." I hit his thigh. "don't move completely, but lift enough to let me roll over." He lifted his weight; I rolled over, resting my head on the pillow, looking at him straddling my hips. "Ok, so between trying to describe my article, and trying to keep some of my motor skills, I managed to make a coherent thought."
     I looked up at him, he in a t-shirt and his boxers, me naked to the waist. I rached my hand to his shirt hem, tugging on it slightly. He stilled my hands. "So what coherent thought did you manage to make?" he asked, skimming his hands along my bare side. I shivered slightly at his touch. Nick smiled at my reaction, stopping his movement but not removing his hands. "Coherent thought?" he prompted.
     I had moved my hands to his thights, rubbing the warm skin. "Thank you for wanting to help me, for helping me." He smiled down at me, his eyes widening slightly as my hands slid up his leg under the edges of his boxers. The coolness of the sild on the tops of my hand contrasted with the heat of his body under my palms. He shivered as I crooked my fingers slightly, running my nails back down legs.
     "Katie," he said, his voice coming out hoarsely, catching in his throat. I made an questioning hum, examining his legs, the soft skin, the hard muscle. He flexed unconsiously, tight muscles appearing under my hands. "Katie," he tried again, my name fading at the end as his voice dropped. I pulled my hands from under the hem of his boxers, an almost guilty look gracing my face briefly as my hand moved to his shirt again.
     "right, so I had a few fluttering thoughts, then one HUGE thought." I moved my hands up on his shirt, hoping to pull him closer. "I remembered this article I read a few months back. It was about relaxation techiques and easing muscle tension." I finally got to the collar of his shirt and pulled him to me. He started rubbing my bare sides, lowering his face to mine. I propped myself onto my elbows, kissing him softly. He shifted his body slightly, resting his weight over me, returning the kiss, deepening it. I pushed a hand between us, lightly shoving him back.      He looked down at me. "So the article basically said that a recent study done showed that sex is one of the best ways of relieving muscle tension and headaches…"
     Nick sat up, grin on his face. "So how much proof is there on this scientific advancement?"
     I pulled him down to me again, grinning back. "Not really sure. What say we give ourselves up to the name of science and test this hypothetical theory out?"
     He pulled his shirt off in response, tossing it aside. "well, if it's in the name science…"
     I pulled him down again for a kiss, sliding my hands down his body. I reached for the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down. "Nick. Relax me."
     He finished undressing me, throwing my panties aside. He pushed off his boxers completely, throwing them up in the air. I caught sight of them on the overhead fan briefly before Nick pulled me in, rolling us over.


       Afterwards, I draped myself over Nick's body, listening to his heartbeat, trying to synchronize our breathing patterns. He tangled his hands through my hair. Suddenly he rolled us over again before getting off of me, wrapping me back up in the blanket. "Be right back," he said, kissing me. He started to head towards the stairs, his ass wiggling from side to side. I propped myself up to watch him; he was walking with a slight limp. I frowned.
     "Nick." He turned around. "Are you limping?" He nodded at me. "What happened?"
     He grinned sheepishly. "Brian and I were goofing around on the court the other day and I sorta slipped and twisted my back a little bit. It's not that big a deal."
     I bit my lip. "Ummm, did I, we, make it worse with, just now, the sex?"
     He smiled softly. "No, it feels a little better than it did earlier today." He caught my eye, an idea clearly flashing in his head.
     I caught on to his thought process. "I wonder what would be the cause for that?" I asked, teasingly.
     He started coming back towards me. "I wonder too…maybe we should start doing some more testing?"
     I nodded. "I agree. We should probably try several trials to see what is causing this."
     He kneeled down, crawling up over me, his face next to mine. He kissed me. "Brilliant plan of action. I think it'll be several tests. We should start now."
     "Good idea. After all, it's just in the name of scientific research and advancement."
     Somewhere in our many tests and trials, I remembered that I'm an English major, not science. Oops.