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It takes them a little over a month to get into bed for the first time. Maya’s considerably more shy these days about dropping her panties, and Stuart’s, well, Stuart, the original template for generalized anxiety disorder in the DSM.
They have to work out rules as they go about where Stuart can touch Maya. (Maya’s allowed to touch Stuart pretty much anywhere as long as she doesn’t tickle him.) This will be so much easier after the surgery. Hopefully. Amy’s convinced Faisal to fund it but there are still legal hoops to jump through.
Their first night together, Maya doesn’t get off at all and Stuart looks mortified even as he comes over Maya’s hand and stomach. Maya presses her other hand against his mouth and says, “Don’t you dare apologize,” and Stuart gives her a puppy-dog look over her fingers.
It gets better, though.
Priya’s found her own place, so Stuart's moved in with Maya. Mostly he’s getting a proper night’s sleep because he’s not sleeping on an air mattress in the back room at work, but there’s time enough in there to make the sort of discoveries that don’t involve looking through a telescope.
And it gets better, because they have time to make it get better, and patience.
Maya hardly ever gets hard any more thanks to the hormones, and Stuart doesn’t usually touch her there anyway, but one night his fingers slide down along the crease where her thigh meets her groin and instead of stopping he brushes his fingertips whisper-soft right down over her perineum and Maya lets out a whimper.
“Is that good?”
“I forgot how good it could be…”
Stuart presses in a little harder and starts making circles and Maya’s hips rise off the bed.
“We should have thought of this sooner, really.”
“Stuartstuartstuart…”
He bends his head, sucks her nipple into his mouth, and she’s gone. Just like that.
Stuart looks really smug about getting her off with just a fingertip and his lips, and when Maya stops seeing stars she can’t help but stare greedily at him. For once the look of intense concentration is gone and he just looks proud of himself, like anyone who’s just made their partner come for the first time.
“What?”
“You look so hot when you’re in control.”
Stuart blushes and the moment passes.
For now.
Sometimes instead of taking a photo to document the changes in her body and face, Stuart sits her down and draws her, and Maya can see the changes more clearly in the curves and lines of his graphite or charcoal than in any mirror, any series of photographs. It’s because he truly sees her from the outside, while even when she’s looking at photos she still feels like she’s on the inside looking out.
It takes another month for it to become a regular thing, because this is a totally new dynamic for them both. Stuart’s too subbie to really take control, and Maya’s too in-between to figure out how to get him to take control, and there’re a few nights in there where both of them go to bed frustrated. On those nights Maya tries not to cry and usually ends up getting up to pace around the block a few times, but she doesn’t run like she used to.
But most times Stuart gets so absorbed in making Maya react that he seems to forget how to be anxious. One night he even absently swats her backside when she wriggles too much and Maya’s overcome by a wash of desire that means she can’t move at all for a couple of minutes, just lie there remembering how to breathe.
Stuart’s not so subbie that he doesn’t notice, though, and the next one’s a deliberate spank, followed by a whisper that Maya doesn’t hear because she’s too busy arching her back and whining.
It’s just one word, anyway. One little word.
“Switch,” is what he says, thoughtfully, as though he’s just picked off the corner of a label he’s worn so long he doesn’t remember choosing to apply it, and found another one underneath.
The next morning is when they finally bite the bullet and, although both of them are extremely wary of Facebook these days, stop being an “It’s complicated” and start being “in a relationship”.
Stuart’s mom leaves her a wall message telling him how pretty his girlfriend is and asking when he’s going to bring her home to meet the family.
Once Maya helps Stuart recover from his panic attack, they check Maya’s wall. Penny’s message just says, WELL DUH ;-P. Priya’s says, Looks like I picked a good time to move out. Love you, sis. Maya follows that one back to Priya’s own wall to see if their parents have said anything. There’s just one message, from their father, saying, Call me.
Knowing that they’re nosing around, Maya immediately goes and lists Bernadette as her mother and Howard as her father, messaging them and asking them to play along. Howard not only acquiesces but fifteen minutes later has a photoshopped family portrait of the three of them as his profile picture. Bernadette goes one better and pastes Maya’s face over the baby’s in a picture of herself holding her niece.
Priya calls her half an hour after that to yell at her, because now Maya’s no longer acknowledged as a Koothrappali child Priya takes the brunt of the snarky international communication, but Maya tells her to go look at Howard’s profile picture and Priya lets out an undignified snort and they’re cool again.
Facebook is a lot better sober.
By the end of the day, Amy’s Maya’s aunt, Leonard’s her cousin, Penny’s her sister (which makes Maya cry when the request pops up), Howard’s duck is her daughter and, although Sheldon refuses to participate himself, his former cat Zazzles is Maya’s uncle in an unprecedented fit of humor.
In order to stave off comments from work colleagues, Maya’s final status update for the day is, It’s really, really complicated, okay? It gets fifteen likes within as many minutes.
Then there’s a night. That night. The night.
Stuart’s hands are tangled in Maya’s hair, which is long enough to tie back into a ponytail, not that she ever does. Maya has her mouth loosely around the head of his cock and is stroking it slowly with the flat of her tongue, savoring the salt taste of him, the hot heavy feel of him between her lips.
Maya isn’t expecting Stuart to tighten his grip on her hair and pull her away, and she pouts at him as he urges her to move up the bed.
“Don’t pout like that, you’ll end up with frown lines.”
“I was having fun.”
Stuart covers one of her breasts with his hand, rubbing her nipple with his palm the way that makes Maya moan. “I had a different sort of fun in mind for tonight.”
Maya desperately wants to ask what he has in mind but can hear the way his voice is quavering and doesn’t want to freak him out. Instead, she just rubs up against his hand and kisses him. The kiss gets deeper and more involved and Stuart’s hand leaves her breast, wandering down her back, cupping her ass. Unthinkingly, Maya rolls a little towards him and spreads her legs wider, but Stuart only stops for a second and that’s to fish something out from under one of the pillows.
“Wh—” Maya begins to ask, and Stuart stops the question with a kiss, nipping lightly at her lip, and behind her back he passes whatever it is from one hand to the other.
She knows the sound of the cap opening on the lube, though, and her heart literally skips a beat. Then she feels the cool slick stroke of his fingers between her legs and it feels like her heart is beating there too.
“Oh God,” she whispers, and Stuart kisses her again as he presses one finger knuckle-deep into her, easing open that tight ring of muscle and twisting a little. Maya makes a muffled sound against his lips and feels him rub against her thigh. He pushes his finger deeper and Maya can’t make words any more, just noises, spreading her legs wider and unashamedly pushing back against his hand.
The kiss breaks and she’s staring into his eyes. She can barely keep hers open, especially when he twists his finger again, but nonetheless she can see that something in him has changed. He looks more calm and collected than she’s ever seen him look during sex.
“Stuart…?” She’s half questioning, half pleading.
“Yes, Maya?” He’s teasing at her entrance with two fingers now, a smile turning up the corners of his lips.
Maya’s not sure anymore what she was going to say, and Stuart’s smile stretches a little wider as he pushes both fingers into her. He doesn’t say anything else either, and she really can’t keep her eyes open now, not even to see how beautiful his face is when he’s unafraid.
He’s almost too careful, easing her open with slow gentle touches, and Maya can’t stand it, bucking up against his fingers. Stuart pulls his other arm out from around her and puts his hand flat on her lower back to hold her still, shifting so he’s kneeling beside her. Maya pushes up again in spite of his hand, and Stuart takes both hands away.
“No!” She means don’t stop, and belatedly clarifies this, whimpering the words out. She drags her eyes open again to look at him, to try giving him a plaintive look or even a pout, and sees the stone set in his eyes. She tries a pout anyway, and Stuart shakes his head.
Maya moves an inch, about to roll over and grab him to demand to know what he’s up to, and Stuart’s hand comes down hard on her ass and he plunges three fingers into her.
She’s burning up; she can’t tell if it’s from pain or pleasure.
Stuart doesn’t give her time to figure out which it is, just pumps his fingers in and out of her. His free hand caresses her ass, soothing the reddened skin with slow strokes completely at odds with the ruthless movements inside her.
He doesn’t spank her again, though, not even when she writhes and pushes up against his hand when his fingertips hit just the right spot inside her. He just focuses on the rhythm of his fingers, moving at the same swift pace as her heart.
The whole universe turns around the axis of his hands on her.
His fingers slip out of her and Maya whines but it’s okay because she hears the tear of foil and then feels the blunt nudge of him against her. She’s so slickly wet that it takes him a moment to push into her and not just rub up against her, but she feels it right to her bones when he does. His hands are on her hips, urging her up; she struggles to her knees and he leans forward to pull the pillows down and tuck them under her.
Only then do they pause to let the feeling sink in, the heat they create together greater than the sum of its parts, and Maya sighs softly, settling her weight on her knees and elbows as Stuart finally, slowly, starts to move within her.
It doesn’t take long before slow and gentle isn’t enough for her, and she pushes back against Stuart’s thrusts a little more forcefully. His fingertips dig into her left hip; he reaches forward with his right hand to circle his palm over her nipples and Maya moans.
“Harder?”
“God!”
Stuart takes that as a yes, although strictly speaking it’s not only a yes but also a where the hell did you come from, dominant Stuart? and rides her harder, slim artist’s fingers leaving bruises on her hip, playing roughly with her nipples, until Maya feels like she’s going to come apart at the seams.
Her hair’s falling in her face and she can’t lift a hand to brush it away. She blows at it futilely and Stuart’s hand leaves her breasts to gather her hair back and hold it at the nape of her neck. Whether he means it as a kindness or otherwise doesn’t matter; Maya can no longer hold herself up and her knees shiver out from beneath her. She can hear herself making incoherent sounds that were meant to be his name.
Stuart’s fingers twist tighter in her hair and Maya turns her head to the side in time to see his eyes close and his head tilt back as he comes, shuddering into her, collapsing against her, chest against her back, their heartbeats wild and out of synch and perfectly matched.
As they shower together afterward she can sense him withdrawing again and so she makes a point of touching him, rubbing the soap carefully over his skin, massaging his back and his shoulders and his thighs in as non-sexual a way as one can ever manage when naked in a shower with one’s boyfriend.
When they curl up in bed they’re face to face, foreheads touching, his arm over her shoulders and her arm over his waist.
“That was...” His breath is a warm sigh against her lips.
“Amazing?”
“Scary.”
“But amazing?”
“Yeah. Yes. God, Maya.” He’s shaking now and she pulls him closer so their bodies are touching all the way along, tucks one leg over his in a protective gesture. “I never... I’m not used to topping.”
“You don’t have to do it all the time.”
She can feel the relief wash through him; he presses his lips to hers and then nuzzles his head in against the side of her neck and she just holds him.
“It felt good,” she murmurs after a few minutes, and feels him smile against her throat. “You made me feel good.”
“I know.”
They’re both silent for a while, sleep stealing up on them, until finally Stuart starts pulling away, yawning. They’ve never been able to sleep cuddled together; both of them complain about overheating.
“Night, Stuart.”
He twirls a lock of her still-damp hair around his finger and pulls lightly, bringing her mouth to his. “I said I wasn’t used to it,” he says, lips brushing against hers. “That definitely doesn’t rule out doing it again.” He kisses her and she can feel that secret stone-strong other-self in the kiss. “Night, Maya.”
He rolls onto his side and is asleep within moments; Maya lies awake a little longer, looking at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and smiling into the darkness.