What Comes Next: Missing You

Summary: After returning to New York from a trip to visit Owen, Allie comes to a realization. Set approximately 2 months after Can’t Wait (NSFW).

The trips to visit Owen never last long enough. Allie’s apartment is dark and empty, and she sighs as she flips the lights on and drops her keys on the table.

I’m home, she texts him.

That’s good, he replies, then, a few seconds later, God, I miss you.

I miss you too.

She undresses and showers, washing the stale scent of the airplane off of her skin, then climbs into bed. She’s not really tired, but it’s too late to get groceries, and she’s not in the mood to read or watch TV.

My apartment is boring, she sends to Owen.

Her phone trills, his name popping up on the screen.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi. What are you doing?”

“Laying in bed,” she says without thinking, and hears him groan quietly on the other end of the line.

“Owen?”

“I wish you were in my bed,” he says, his voice husky, and Allie bites her lip.

“I want to be,” she murmurs, and shifts restlessly under the covers.

It’s quiet for a few moments, and Allie finds her mind drifting to their weekend together. She loves being with him, going out and exploring L.A., or spending time with Mel or his friends, or hanging out in his apartment. But that’s not where her mind goes now. No, it goes to last night, to the way Owen had made love to her.

A familiar tingle forms in her belly, and heat pools between her legs. She whimpers quietly, remembering the feel of him against her, hard and throbbing, and the way he’d said her name.

“Allie,” he says in a strangled voice.

“I want you,” she moans. “I need you.”

“God, Al,” he groans. “I need you too.”

She pushes the blanket down, her free hand drifting toward her underwear. She can hear his ragged breathing, and it turns her on even more.

“What are you doing?” she asks him, and Owen barks out a hoarse laugh.

“Thinking about you.”

She inhales sharply as her fingers drift lower. “I’m thinking about you too,” she manages to say.

There’s a quiet shift of fabric on his end of the phone.

“I want you here,” she whispers.

“I’m half a second away from booking a flight,” he groans.

“Mmm,” she sighs. “What would you do, if you were here?”

“Allie…” he says hesitantly.

“I know. I just…”

He must hear the frustration in her voice, because the next thing he says is, “I’d kiss you first. I love kissing you.”

“I don’t get to kiss you nearly enough,” she murmurs.

“Then I’d run my hands down your arms…kiss your neck…bite that spot on your shoulder that always makes you moan…”

Her breathing grows shallow as she thinks about him, imagines he’s here with her, imagines his hands and his lips where she wants them the most.

“I’d undo your shirt,” she gets out. “Push it over your shoulders and kiss down your chest and stomach.”

Her finger brushes over her clit.

“Owen,” she moans.

“I’m here,” he murmurs, then whispers, “Touch yourself, Allie.”

“I am. I want it to be you.”

She glides her fingers lower, over the slickness between her legs, and closes her eyes.

“I want it to be me too. I’d touch you next,” he says huskily. “Pull your underwear off and run my fingers over you.”

She sucks in a breath, dipping her fingers into her center.

“I’d kiss up your thighs…”

“Yes,” she moans.

“Are you wet, Al?” he asks.

“I always am for you,” she answers shakily, and she just barely hears his answering guttural groan.

“Are you touching yourself?” she manages to ask, and he grunts out, “Yes.”

“I love touching you,” she whispers, breathing heavily as she pushes two fingers inside and glides them slowly in and out. “Feeling you get hard when my hand is on you.”

Owen curses quietly.

“And how hard you get when I put my mouth on you,” she gasps, moving a little faster, and he groans loudly.

“God, Al, I need you so much.”

“What would you do next?” she pants.

“I love your mouth on me,” he says hoarsely, “But I’d want to be inside you. You feel so damn good. So I’d carry you to the bed, lay you down-“

His voice falters, and Allie pictures him in his bed in L.A., the way his muscles would tense and his lips would part as he pushed into her. She increases her movements, her hips rolling against her hand.

“Oh,” she moans.

“How do you want me, Al? Slow? Gentle?”

She whimpers softly, brushing her thumb over her clit and sucking in a shaky breath.

“Hard and fast?” Owen asks in a low voice, and she moans.

“I love you like this. Watching you come apart, the way you say my name.”

“Please,” Allie begs him, doesn’t even know what she’s begging for, she’s so dizzy with desperation for him.

“I’m thinking about you,” he groans. “The way you feel, touching you, the way your muscles tighten when you come-“

The rest of his words are drowned out when she curls her fingers and presses against her clit, white flashing behind her eyelids as she sobs out his name. Her ears are ringing faintly when she finally opens her eyes, gasping for breath.

“Owen,” she murmurs into the phone, rolling to her side.

“I’m here,” he says, his voice a little shaky.

“That was…” she breathes. “I…”

“…yeah,” he says, and Allie laughs a little.

“I’d still rather have you,” she says, and Owen sighs.

“I’d rather have you too.”

“I don’t want to be this far apart,” Allie says after a minute, feeling brave.

“I don’t either,” Owen replies.

“What if…” she trails off, suddenly nervous.

There’s no reason to feel worried, if she’s being logical. They’ve talked about this before, more and more lately, this physical distance between them and how neither of them wants it to stay that way. She knows how much Owen loves her and wants to be with her. But though they’ve talked about it, they’ve never put a concrete plan into so many words.

“Allie. Hey,” Owen says reassuringly. “I’m in this. I’m with you. I’m…”

He pauses, then laughs quietly. “I’m so in love with you.”

And even though he’s told her that before, it still makes her throat swell with emotion.

“I’m in love with you too,” she murmurs.

She sits up, looking at the glowing lights outside her window. As much as this city has always been home, it doesn’t hold her here anymore. More and more, she finds herself drawn to L.A., to Owen.

They’ve already started a future together. She’s just not exactly where she wants to be. She wants late nights and sleepy mornings with him, wants domestic, everyday life with him, wants to be where he is and not 3000 miles away.

“Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?” Owen says, his voice soft and hopeful.

“Yes,” she agrees. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Good night,” she whispers, slipping back under the covers and closing her eyes.

“Good night, Al,” he murmurs. “Sweet dreams.”