Like it Was Before

Practically everyone left at the camp has gathered back at the quarry by late afternoon, the women washing clothes with vintage-style boards found in a music store, intended to be used as instruments.
Shane, thinking he's being funny, has scrawled the word 'Maytag' in big block letters across the top of each one using permanent marker, something that Jacqui found not in the least bit humorous.
Or anything else about laundry duty, actually, and I can see her point-Ed and Shane aren't too far from our makeshift laundry mat, hovering menacingly and gigging frogs with an adolescent boy, respectively.
It would almost be entertaining, but the heat keeps it from getting there. Carol and Andrea are talking about the old world on either side of me when Shane falls into the clear water, splashing it everywhere-he looks like something out of a Chevy Chase movie. Carl practically doubles over with laughter, near falling in himself and Carol interrupts Andrea mid-sentence about a vibrator. "Is he alright?"
"He's fine," I smile, "He's just an idiot."
This causes a small ripple of laughter among the women before things go quiet for a moment. In our conversation, anyhow-there is still laughing and carrying on not so far away. The pseudo-quiet doesn't last long. "Me too," Carol says out of the blue, responding, apparently, to Andrea's vibrator diatribe. Once we realize this we all break up into full scale laughter which brings Ed lumbering over wanting to know 'Just what the hell was so funny,'. And what were we going to say to that? Your wife's collection of sex toys? I don't think so.
Andrea tells him it's just war stories a clear lie, but actually gets offended when he doesn't believe her, rising to her feet to challenge the man something that causes an immediate domino effect on the rest of us.
"Here we go..." I mutter under my breath, trying to watch two situations at once; Andrea vs Ed and Lori, down river collecting Carl.
"Why the fuck isn't she helping wash clothes?!" I ask, not that anyone notices as the argument on our side intensifies.
I take my eyes away from the other situation entirely once Lori's walking away, dragging Carl with her and I focus my attention back on the drama at hand, which has Ed whipping a wet shirt at Andrea and calling her a cooze. A college-educated cooze, but still.
I hadn't been paying enough attention to know just how things had spiraled quite so out of control so quickly, had been pissed that Lori had dragged her ass down here among the peasants and still got out of working, but I knew it needed to be stopped before it could go any further. "Look, guys," Stupidly, I insinuate myself between the two of them, hoping to be the voice of reason here, if such a thing could be said to exist anymore. This is my first mistake of the day.
Jacqui is saying something behind me-yelling, really-about the bruises that keep popping up on Carol and I turn towards Jac, rotating the top half of my body in her direction but keeping my feet planted and this proves to be my second mistake of the afternoon because the next thing I know, I'm landing hard on my ass as Ed knocks me callously out of his way.
My hands fly out behind myself instinctively, trying to break the fall resulting in sliced up palms from the gravel for my trouble.
Before I can even process what's happened Ed's meaty face is connecting with Carol's delicate cheekbone. I scramble to my feet, heedless of the large drops of blood I'm shedding everywhere as I move and take exactly one step towards before Shane is there all white-hot fury going after Ed with vengeance.
I'm rooted to the spot as Shane wails on him. It's Amy, calling for Shane to stop that snaps me out of my shock and I go after the love of my life, reluctant as hell. I may not want to, but at this point, with how far gone Shane is all of his rage and frustration being taken out on Ed's face, I'm unfortunately the one he's most likely to listen to, and even then my chances of succeeding in getting him to stop are minimal.
Recklessly, I grab his arm on a back swing and plant my feet-it doesn't stop the blow entirely, but it slows him down some.
"Shane," I'm trying to keep my voice calm, hoping this will infiltrate his haze during his second take down of the day, but unfortunately his name is just lost in the shuffle of hysterical women.
"SHANE." I scream, and this he hears, shaking his arm loose to grip Ed's face, grip instead of punch, thankfully.
"You put your hands on my wife, your wife, your little girl or anybody else in this fuckin' camp one more time Savannah will not be here to stop me, you understand? I will not stop next time. Do you hear me?"
I grab Shane's arm again, anchoring him and this time he lets me, at least for the moment. "I'll beat you to death, Ed,"
And then Shane's pulling away, hitting him again. I do my best to dive back in and haul Shane to his feet, and he complies but reaches out, kicking Ed one more time for good measure before taking a step back. Once's he's stepped back I maneuver to stand in front of him as quickly as I can manage, both palms pressed flat against his chest, leaving gory hand prints that our Maytags will never in a million years wash out, using Shane's momentum to push him backwards away from the scene in front of us.
His boots are practically in the water when he seems to come back to us a little, the terrifying blank look leaving his eyes at last.
"Baby," I'm trying hard to form sentences here, but this one word is all that wants to leave my mouth. "Baby, it's okay, baby,"
I finally choke out while everyone else stands by completely horrified at but riveted to the two messes of couples in front of them.
What a spectacle. "Savannah," Shane says as things start to slow back down a bit. I feel my cuts and bruises anew and how the back of my thighs have been skinned, how it hurts. Just to end the afternoon on a high note, I begin to cry.

xx

"Come on," I tell him finally, catching his hand in mine.
"Let's get you cleaned up." Shane seems incredulous at this, sputtering out my name. "Me?! Savvy, you-"
I steam roll right over him, talking loudly and pulling on his hands. "We're going back to camp." I announce to no one in particular.
I'm not sure that any of them hear this, but in any case, no one stops us from leaving. The scene at the quarry had gone from peaceful to hostile to awkward far too quickly for any of the people gathered to actively worry about wherever it was I would be taking off to.
I can't tell if it's me or Shane that's shaking, our hands are welded together so tightly as we make our way back up the rudimentary path.
I stop somewhere around halfway up, out of both the camp and the quarry's sight line and turn to face him, holding his hands up, taking stock of his injuries. His knuckles are raw, but he's okay, we're both fundamentally okay and I'm grateful to note that none of the blood that's splattered on him is his own. Shane opens his mouth to say God only knows what when the SUV ascends over the crest, Andrea behind the wheel and we take pains to first step out of their way and then wave them along-we'd be up in a bit.
"That scared the shit out of me." I admit, and Shane raises his eyebrows inquisitively.
"The car? They had plenty of time to stop, Savannah, they wouldn't have hit us-"
I sigh. "No, stupid." This is not said without affection. "Ed."
Shane takes my hands, turning them palm up and examines the shallow cuts (which have stopped leaking) before he speaks.
"Savannah, I promise you, that won't ever gonna happen again. Okay?
Ain't nobody gonna touch you but me, and I ain't ever gonna lay a hand on you that don't make you happy."
A mischievous glint comes into Shane's eye before he continues.
"I won't say I won't ever hit you, though. I know how much you like to be spanked."
This actually surprises a laugh out of me-I've never been spanked in my life, not even when I brought home all D's in the fourth grade.
I push at his chest, lightly. "Would you shut up?"
This all occurs with an unexpected flirty quality and his smile softens a little around the corners even as his eyes darken, reminding me that adrenaline is a funny thing. "How you gonna make me?"
My breath catches at his challenge and the implications, his scuffed up hand reaching up to brush over my face. "Savannah Jane?"
I'm fuzzy on who moved toward the other: all I know is that I ended up in his arms flat seconds later, his mouth practically devouring mine, one hand going straight to cup my breast and one to my waist pulling me me more flush against him, situating me just the way he wanted.
I honestly didn't care-all I knew was that I wanted him and it didn't matter how. Our stagnation over the past few weeks, combined with our playing that morning and the hellacious turn the afternoon had taken had built up until I was practically clawing at Shane, right there on the trail, lightheaded with need, feeling like I had just run a mile and then climbed onto a roller coaster straight after.
His mouth leaves mine just long enough to drag the two of us deeper into the overgrown woods on the trails side. Later, in hind-sight I'll be thankful for this, if worried about poison ivy but at the time, it's a non-issue; I probably would have fucked him in front of the entire camp before I put a halt to this.
Thankfully, Shane hasn't gone completely out of his mind with lust (yet) and tucks us out of sight before we can continue pawing at each other. His damn clothes are wet and stuck to his skin making his shirt practically impossible to pull up and over his head, much to my frustration. I'm greedily touching him through his pants while he handles the shirt situation. His pants which, thankfully, prove easier to remove as I yank them down, the boxer-briefs underneath coming with them, his belt falling to the forest floor with a muffled clank.
He has my tank top back off in one smooth motion and kneels before me, licking my stomach, my navel, and downwards still, pulling my shorts and panties roughly to pool at my ankles where they'll both stay until I rid myself out of my bra and step out of them.
Shaking already, I tangle my hands in his thick hair and Shane responds by reaching up, touching me as his mouth moves. It's bare moments before he has me crying out for him the second time in the day, and Shane stands, his own hands shaking before I can fully come back down, spinning me around clumsily to clutch at the trunk of the tree I had been leaned against, my sweaty palms bracing my weight, reopening the wounds before Shane thinks to slide his hand under mine, saving me from any further discomfort.
"My turn," he tells me, voice rough and then he's inside me and I'm clawing at the back of his hand, his neck, anywhere I can reach as he positions himself. All I can say is to ask him 'Please, please, please,' as he begins to rock, mindless, chanting it with every move he makes as he takes me closer to the edge yet again because this, this is exactly what I needed.

xx

My legs are Jell-o by the time we make it back to the camp hours later as the sun goes down and Shane kisses me, a hearty smack before I retire to our tent for the night, skipping dinner, exhausted.
He'll take first watch and join me soon, I think to myself and then immediately drift off to sleep.