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New York Rain	By : BehrBeMine Category: 1 through F > Everwood Views: 5064 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Everwood, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-New York Rain
- 1
Title: New York Rain

Author: BehrBeMine (behrbemine@look.ca)

Site:
http://www.behrbemine.com/solemn/

Feedback: I need it like Ephram needs his father.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Don't sue, I'll cry. ;p

Summary: Ephram and Amy, amid lightning, thunder, and rain.

Rating: NC-17

Distribution: Just please let me know and we'll be good.

Classification: Ephram and Amy

Spoilers: 'The Day is Done'

Thanks: Thank you to Jason and Fern for the spectacular beta. Thanks also to
Shirphie for letting me know that Emily is in fact 18 now, so this is legal.

Dedication: For Gregory Smith and Emily VanCamp.
- -

"Nothing heals me like you do." -- Heather Nova, 'London Rain'
The curtains are blue. Like her heart these days. Every day.
She plays with the curtains absent-mindedly as thunder roars outside the
window, forecasting rain. She loves the rain. So many good memories are
associated with it. Days of being wet, just for the hell of it. For no reason at
all.
Rain pours from the heavens like the ice-cold tears that stain her cheeks.
God cries with her as she sits in silence, staring out the window at the grey
sky, the wet ground. As she watches the ground moisten and glisten, she forgets
to wipe away her tears. Forgets that he might see them.
And the thought comes to her: I remember...

She remembers Colin. Remembers dancing with him, in the rain. Laying her head
on his chest as he wrapped his boyish arms around her. Swaying to the rhythm of
unheard music, under the massive sky, beneath the falling rain. Droplets slicing
through the air, splashing on their clothes, wetting their hair to match one
another. It wasn't often that Colin would dance with her. She liked dancing with
him. Maybe because it was so rare. Amy has always loved dancing. He was her
silent partner as lightning lit up the sky in early May, accompanying their
tentative steps. Moisture soaked them through to the skin, plastered their hair
to their foreheads. And despite it, they danced.
"Amy..." calls Ephram, his voice sleepy from the nap he's just awaken from.
"Amy." It brings her back to the here-and-now.
It is then that she remembers the wetness on her face, and hastily wipes it
away. She turns to him, her new beau, her new boyfriend. Her new everything.
"Yes?"
Ephram's face clouds over with worry. He can see what she's trying to hide.
He can see that inside she's dying, as she's been dying for so long now.
Suffering, and fading away. "Are you okay?" he asks her, and he's never wanted
to know the truth more.
Amy turns back to the window, to the staccato pitter-patter of the rain that
drowns out the sun and brings the clouds out to play. The world is a perfect
mixture of black and white, swirled together like paint to form the grey of old
TV shows, and the rain has no color at all to add to the monotony. It falls in
clear droplets to discolor the ground, make it different. Add something to it.
The way Ephram adds things to her.
"I'm okay," she tells him, her voice far away. "I'm with you."
Ephram knows her head is a million miles away. He doesn't mind. He knows she
thinks of Colin, and that is what makes her eyes so sad.
Sometimes Ephram isn't in the mood to hear about Colin. But he asks her now,
"Tell me about him."
"Why?" Amy asks, distracted by the rain pounding outside of the window.
Distracted, too, by memories of childhood days.
Ephram thinks of a movie he once saw, and a line that was worth remembering.
"Because you like to remember him."
Amy smiles softly, and slowly lays down on the bed. She beckons Ephram
closer, and he obeys, taking a step toward her, and then crawling on top of her.
"He was everything, he was..." Amy falters, never able to find words worthy
enough of describing her first boyfriend, her first love. "He..."
Ephram brings a hand up to gently remove a string of hair from Amy's face,
tucking it behind her ear. His slight weight on top of her feels good, feels
right. "Tell me..."
"He made everything better, he made it special." Amy smiles again at the
memory, clinging to it in her heart of hearts. "He made me..." Ephram blows warm
air into her ear, and she sighs with abandon. "He..." She is losing her
concentration, soaked with the intoxication of Ephram.
"He made you happy."

"...Yes."
Ephram parts his lips and nears his girl, capturing hers within his, kissing
her softly, slowly, gently. Coaxing her into his world. "Have I ever made you
that happy?"
Amy closes her eyes, and shudders, her breath rushing from her mouth into
Ephram's, swift and full of wanting. "Have you ever wanted to?"
Ephram smiles, though she doesn't see. He looks upon her with her closed
eyes, outlined by black eyeliner, and covered in glittery white powder. She is a
make-up expert, this girl, and so odd for one who doesn't need a bit of it on
her face. Her natural beauty makes Ephram throb deep in his soul, deep in his
pants. He wonders now if she can feel the bulge expanding from his jeans.
"That's all I've ever wanted when it comes to you, Amy. To make you happy.
Happier than you've ever been before."
There was a time when Amy thought her happy days were over. Colin was gone,
and Ephram was in the arms of Madison. Bright telling her they were sleeping
together was permanently etched on her brain. Whatever, none of her business,
she had said. But wasn't it? Wasn't it now?
"You did everything with him, didn't you?" Ephram traces Amy's lips so
tenderly with his fingers, waiting for them to move, for her to speak.
"I remember so many things..." she says, and opens her eyes to find Ephram
staring back at her. She smiles so softly.
She has so many memories, of swinging on swings as water pounded down on the
both of them, on she and Colin, together, soaking their matching black hoodies,
making their jeans cling to their legs. She has memories of walking, hands
clasped, jumping into puddles and laughing when splashes brought short screams
of happiness from Amy, and long quiet seconds from him. She would give anything
to have another long second with him.
"We used to have shaving cream fights on the last day of school." Amy stares
up at Ephram's face, as he stares back at her. "In Colorado, you never know what
the weather's going to be like. We had shaving cream fights in the rain, and in
the sun. One year we even had one in the snow. Mid-may, and it was snowing. It
was so cold. It was one of the first times Colin hugged me. My hair, my body, my
clothes were full of cream, but he hugged me to him, anyway. Bright joked that
we were in love, getting all touchy-feely."
Ephram touches a silky stray hair that peeks out from behind Amy's ear. "You
were in love."
Amy nods solemnly. "We were..."
Ephram settles his slight weight on top of her, pressing his body into hers.
Intoxicated by her smell, her face, her hair. She is so perfect, and now she is
his, all his.
"Tell me about your mother," Amy whispers, her lips inching so close to his.
"Why?"
Amy smiles softly, and recites his own words back to him. "Because you like
to remember her."
"She used to take us out to dinner on Friday nights," Ephram starts, thinking
back to a time not so long ago. Sometimes it seems farther away, those times
that he spent with his mother. "My father would rarely come, though we would
wait for him, anyway. My mom would pretend we weren't waiting for him. She'd try
to steer the conversation to any other subject. We talked about school, about
Delia's friends, about piano lessons. She was the best person to talk to,
because she really listened. It made up for how my dad never listened. No
matter how you tried to say something to him, he never heard what you were
really saying. Never."
Amy wraps her arms around Ephram's body, pulling him tight to her. She has
loved these past few days in New York, spending alone time with him. Times like
this, when nobody else was in the house, when they had it all to themselves.
When they had each other, privately. It was how she liked it. Everything was
quiet, though they said so much. She had learned so much about him just from
these quiet conversations. She had pieced together a puzzle of so many
yearnings, so many memories. She now knew him more completely. She loved that.
She loved that he would share with her.
She's had a matter of days with him, with her Ephram. She leaves New York
tomorrow. To spend the rest of the summer alone, while he works on his talent,
refines it to be even more spectacular.
She's going to miss him.
"I want to play," whispers Ephram. "Come with me. Come listen to me."
He sits up and clasps her hands in his, pulling her out of the bedroom and
into the living room, towards the piano. A baby grand, perfectly shined, well
taken care of. He lets go of her, and sits down on the bench. He faces these
keys that so easily succumb to his talent.
He plays the first tentative notes to "Fuise&ise", easing into the song,
coaxing his girl into the room with this sound he is giving to her. These notes
that he is playing, just for her. Nine taps of the keys in quick succession.
1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9... He stops, pauses, turns around on the bench to look at her.
Amy leans on the door frame, watching him. The two of them just stare, like
lovers who haven't seen each other in ten years. She recreates the music in her
head to take the place of the silence that is so overwhelming, it swallows them
both whole. Her panties are wet. It is erotic, watching him play, and then
watching him stare. He is everything to her now. She wants to give him
everything back.
Ephram turns back to the piano, and begins again. His hands glide over the
keys with such ease. His movements are unreal, they are above this earth. She
watches him, her heart crying out with the song that builds to a fiery
explosion, then dies down to bring her back from the clouds to the room where
she stares, at him. She feels a stirring in her loins, watching the intensity of
Ephram playing. She tilts her head and leans it against the doorframe where she
stands, wondering if he knows what she is feeling. If he can sense her emotions.
If he is feeling this, too.
"Dance for me," Ephram says, drinking her in with his eyes. She blinks in
surprise. "Come on, I'll play for you," he continues.
It is a secret fantasy Ephram has, to watch her dance, preferably to his
playing. Ephram's fingers glide over the keys, crackling inside with the want to
touch them, to play. For her.
He starts the song again.
Amy smiles, her dancer's limbs wanting to move and sway with the music, with
this song she knows so well. This song that everybody knows so well. She wants
to add her creativity to his, to add a new dimension to his playing. She wants
to be a part of his dream.
She lifts her arms up into the air, and arches her back, drawing her hands
slowly over her head, touching them together, and then continuing to move them
past her shoulders, towards the ground. In fluid, supple movements she lets go
with her dancer's grace and sweeps her arms back forward toward each other,
lifting her body along with them, facing Ephram once again.
She rises up on her toes, and leaps toward him. Her jeans cling to her thin
little body, moving along with her. Ephram stops playing for a few seconds when
she rests her hands on his shoulders. He turns to face her waist, and plays with
the dainty wire flower that clings to her belt loop. Pink, against the dark
denim blue. It suits her, something beautiful amid something vastly the same.
Ephram raises his eyes to the level of her tummy, then follows the trail
further upwards, to her little breasts that are clung to by her white satin
shirt, a shirt that ties into a neat bow in the back. Sheer, barely covering her
at all. He wants to touch her, oh how he wants to. He wants to feel her, inside,
outside, completely. All he has done is kiss her, always before. It isn't
enough. He lusts for her in that moment, wanting her so badly it hurts.
Amy leans down, and brings her mouth to his ear. She wets her lips, and then
pulls his earlobe into her mouth, sucking on it gently. She pulls away from his
skin, then leans back in to kiss that lobe so gently. Ephram can't help but to
let a soft moan escape.
Amy giggles. "Keep playing." With that, she leaves his side, and suddenly it
feels so cold without her warmth so near. But he does as she asked.
When the notes begin again, Amy continues her dance, the dance that she
dedicates to him. She loves him, she has fallen so hard in love with him. And
they have had several amazing days together. Dozens of kisses, dozens of hugs.
Tenderness between them, always.
She wants more.
Ephram throbs beneath his pants, his skin itching to touch hers again. A part
of him growing that he's never shown her before. He stumbles over the keys of
the piano, his concentration melting from the firecracker she has lit, just by
touching his ear with her lips. He doesn't need to look at the keys; he knows
this song by heart. So his eyes follow her, and her movements, as she twirls
this way and that, and bats her eyelashes becomingly, bewitching him, bewitching
him. She rises up on her toes, and she flies through the air. Her hair fans out
around her, then falls in disheveled waves around her face as she flutters her
arms, a ballerina, dancing in the middle of the living room.
He stops playing, and she stops dancing. Everything goes still. Ephram's
breathing slows, until it is barely audible. Amy runs her fingers through her
hair, trying to fix it, to always look perfect for him. What she doesn't
understand is that she is always perfect for him.
Ephram turns, so slowly, on the piano bench, leaving the comfort of the keys
to face the uncertainty of her. The world that isn't so safe and practiced.
"Amy..." he starts, but she hushes him.
"Shh," she says.
He feels like his heart might stop beating. It slows and slows and slows.
"Come here," he says to her, his voice hoarse, without the manliness he would
have liked in the command. "Please?"
She can resist him no longer. She walks slowly forward, with a dancer's
grace, each step soaring her higher on the inside as on the outside, she watches
him, and waits. She stops before him, flipping her hair with a sharp nod off to
the side with her head.
Ephram looks at this girl, at this body standing before him. With tentative
fingers, he traces up the sides of her waist, up to her breasts, where he stops.
His hands linger there, terrified of being pushed away, terrified of being
stopped. Not knowing where to go from then on.
Amy draws in a breath, and closes her eyes. She feels his hands on her body,
feels them completely, and loses herself amid his touch. Her legs buckle, and he
catches her in his arms, pulling her into his lap. She breathes in the scent of
his black cotton shirt, then inches her face away from his body to stare into
his eyes. There, they breathe together. She thinks of his playing; he thinks of
her dance. Together, they form one thought, one heart, one mind. Together...
The house they are in is quiet, they are the only ones home. Ephram looks out
the nearby window as he smells the shampoo residue in Amy's hair, expecting to
see sun, but instead he sees grey. He hears thunder rumbling in the distance. He
waits for lightning to burst into the sky.
Amy's whisper is so faint, Ephram has to strain to hear. "I want to feel you
inside of me."
Ephram clasps her hand, and together they rise, and move to the bedroom. "Fur
Elise" plays in Amy's head as she leads her boyfriend onto the bed by the open
window. The breeze from outside plays with her hair, sending wisps to dance
along her cheeks.
Amy lays down on the bed, and Ephram follows her lead, settling his body on
top of hers. He traces a delicate finger along her upper arm. She shudders,
sighing. It feels so good.
Kissing her gently, Ephram coaxes their bodies up to a sitting position. He
pulls away to stare into her eyes, his fingers working at the bow of satin
material across Amy's back. He undoes it slowly, hyptnotized by her eyes that
stare so intensely back at him. "Go ahead," she says when he hesitates, and he
pulls the bow completely undone. He eases the shirt off of her body, revealing
breasts covered only by a thin bra.
Cradling her softly in his arms, Ephram lays Amy back down, and starts to
work on her dark denim jeans. He undoes the button at the top and unzippers the
fly, then pulls them slowly down her legs. Amy lifts her hips to ease her pants
off, and allows Ephram to slide them off her legs, tossing them aside
immediately. He looks down at her, in just her bra and panties. She is so
perfect; so beautiful. So desireable. And now she's all his.
Amy reaches back and unhooks her bra, then catches her breath in her throat
before pulling it off. "Are you ready?" Ephram asks her, ready to peel it from
her skin.
"I think so," she says, and it's such a whisper, he can hardly comprehend.
"Okay."
He pulls the bra off, and sucks in his breath. Then he pulls her underwear
down to reveal her dark pubic hair. He carefully sets her underwear to the side,
and looks deeply into her eyes. His fingers itch to touch her, desperate to feel
what he's dreamed of since the moment he first laid eyes on her.
Ephram eases a finger deep into her, hearing her breath hitch. She's never
done this before. He can tell. He feels so honored to be her first real sexual
contact, and wonders if she is thinking of Colin. He hopes not.
He slides another finger inside of her, feeling the wetness of her arousal.
He teases the tender folds, then slowly begins to pump his two fingers in and
out of her. Amy shudders, her whole body shaking. Ephram pumps more intensely.
Amy moans, gripping the sheets with her hands, clasping and un-clasping them,
desperately wanting to touch him back.
Ephram removes his fingers, and brings one to his mouth, sucking it inside
past his lips, tasting her. She tastes better than he ever imagined, and now it
is his turn to moan.
"Take off your shirt," whispers Amy, wanting to see his expanse of naked
chest. He does as she asked, throwing the clothing onto the pile of hers already
started. She can see his pink nipples, his flat stomach, his slim arms. She
takes a risk, not able to hold something inside of her any longer.
"I love you," she says.
Ephram, astonished, crawls on top of her once more. Instead of answering, he
undoes the button of his jeans and kicks his pants off, followed by his boxers.
Now they lie naked together, skin pressed against skin.
Thunder rolls outside, reflecting their soaring emotions perfectly. Lightning
zig-zags across the sky, turning the grey a golden hue, momentarily. Thunder
cracks louder, and Amy shakes slightly, scared by the sudden noise.
Ephram can't wait any longer to be inside of her. He grabs a condom that he's
been keeping in the back pocket of his jeans for some time, and slips it onto
his erection. He slides his cock into her hot, wet entrance. It's so tight.
She's so tight. She's been waiting for this.
"Ohhhh..." Amy lets out as Ephram slides out a bit, then slams back inside of
her.
"I've wanted this for so long," he tells her.
"I know." Ephram tilts his head, looking down at her with so much love, so
intensely. He feels so much in that moment, so much he could never describe.
"I've wanted it for so long too," Amy reveals.
"Not as long as I have."

"Maybe - - " Amy gasps as Ephram slides in and out, in and out. He takes one of
her nipples into his mouth, and she gasps again. "Oh my God, Ephram, I - - "
"I know," he says, releasing her pink nipple that stands erect.
Lightning flashes and thunder accompanies it, and Amy jumps. Ephram slips
inside of her, plunging deeper. She gasps, and so does he, the sensation so
miraculously good, it sends them both ing ing to the stars.
"I..." Ephram moans. "I have something to tell you... I love you, too."
Amy smiles, clinging to him, pulling him so close to her, flattening chest
against chest. Softly she whispers, "I know."
Thunder, thunder, lightning, lightning. It booms from the sky, and all the
while, rain falls. Ephram's rhythm of in-and-out makes Amy's eyes delicately
flutter closed. Her breath shudders as she falls into the abyss her boyfriend is
creating for her. She feels as though she's falling through space, clinging to
nothing but him, taking him with her to the end of the world.
"I'm a little sweaty," Ephram admits with a laugh. Amy nods to indicate that
she is, too. She doesn't open her eyes simply because she doesn't need to. She
can see her beautiful Ephram behind closed eyes, can see the intensity and
concentration on his face as his fingers explore her body. He traces a single
finger down her side, to her waist, and down her thigh. He cups one of her
breasts in his other hand, squeezing just slightly, liking the feel of her body
in his hands. She is his. He has claimed her.
Thunder fires from God above, and Amy opens her eyes to stare into Ephram's.
He slams into her, one... she sees Colin's face; two... she feels the weight of
Colin's lips on hers; three... she remembers squealing when she was hit dead-on
by a fist full of shaving cream; four... she remembers his laugh - - "I got
you!" he said, and he was so excited. So thirteen. Five... she remembers seeing
Colin in the hospital bed for the first time, needing help to breathe. Six...
she remembers running to the bathroom so she could cry where no one could see
her breaking. Seven... seeing him come back to life. Eight... struggling with
him to bring him back to who he used to be. Nine... realizing that Colin would
never again be who he used to be. Ten... losing him. Knowing that the surgery
was unsuccessful, that he had passed away.
Eleven... seeing the illusion of him while she was on drugs. "I loved you...
I love you," oh, she loved him so much. She loves him still. She wanted to take
him back to the world with her, and keep him there forever. But she couldn't,
and she was alone, until Ephram. Now she will never be alone, even without
Colin.
- 1
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New York Rain