Chapter Text
Rebecca's head is pounding by the time she pulls into her driveway at half past nine.
The Cerithium meeting ran two hours over. They want everything. Naming rights. Full branding. Creative control. Approval rights on any partnership they deem "brand-conflicting" – which is apparently half of Richmond's current sponsors. It’s an offer that would secure the club's financial future for the next decade, and erase every trace of her careful rebranding in the process.
The board wants an answer by Friday. It's Monday.
She stays in the car longer than necessary, forehead resting against the steering wheel. Tomorrow is already full. Back-to-back meetings. A league inquiry that’s mostly paperwork but still needs answering. Contract negotiations between two players who refuse to be in the same room. Final approval on everything from training kits to facility schedules because Higgins is on holiday and somehow every decision still lands on her desk.
When had running a football club become a thousand tiny choices that only she could make?
Rebecca forces herself inside, already running through what still needs doing tonight — another look at the Cerithium contract, an email to the FA, at least a pass through her inbox —
The smell of something cooking hits her the moment she opens the door.
"Hey there," Ted calls from her kitchen and appears in the doorway with a wooden spoon, sleeves pushed up, hair a little mussed. He's clearly let himself in with the key she gave him last month, and he looks entirely at home.
"Hope you don't mind. I figured you probably hadn't eaten, and I had this whole craving for pasta, but making it just for me felt sad, so..."
He trails off, actually looking at her for the first time.
"Rough day?"
Rebecca hears herself laugh – a sharp and brittle sound. "Is it that obvious?"
"Well, you're doing that thing with your ring." He gestures with the spoon. "And you've got that little crease right here – " He touches the space between his own eyebrows. "Which means you've been frownin’ for at least three hours. And, I didn’t really hear from you all day."
She glances down. Her thumb is circling the inside of her ring finger. She drops her hand.
"I'm fine. Just... Cerithium Capital wants to turn Nelson Road into a corporate nightmare, the league is investigating us again for no reason, I have twenty emails that all require impossible decisions, and apparently I'm the only person in the entire organization capable of choosing what color the women's team training kits should be."
She hears her voice rising and can't seem to stop it.
"Fourteen different people asked me to make choices today, Ted. Fourteen. And that's not counting the board, or the contract negotiations, or the fact that I apparently need to personally approve whether we stock Pepsi or Coca-Cola in the supporter's section because it might affect our beverage sponsorship terms–"
"Okay," Ted says gently, setting down the spoon and crossing to her. "Okay. Come here."
He pulls her into his arms right there in her entryway, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other wraps around her waist. Rebecca exhales into him, her shoulders dropping a fraction.
Ted feels her melt just the slightest bit, and something protective settles in his chest.
"You're wound tighter than a buncha jungle gym screws," he murmurs against her hair. "When's the last time you took a proper breath?"
She can't remember.
Ted pulls back just enough to look at her, hands settling on her shoulders before he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Here’s the plan,” he says. “You go upstairs. Take a hot shower. Put on something comfortable. I’ll finish the pasta. Then we’ll eat, and you don’t have to decide a single thing. Not what we watch, not what we talk about, not whether you want parmesan, because I’m just gonna put it on there anyway.”
Her throat tightens. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He presses a kiss to her forehead and Rebecca finds herself leaning into it longer than usual. One more second, she thinks.
She feels Ted's hands tighten slightly on her shoulders.
"Go on," he says, voice slightly rougher. "I'll be here."
The shower helps. Standing under water hot enough to turn her skin pink, Rebecca feels some of the tension drain away. Not all of it – the Cerithium decision still looms, the investigation still requires her attention, tomorrow will still be a gauntlet of choices – but enough that she can breathe properly.
It had taken her a few months to really let herself be loved the way Ted loves. To accept the care he offers, selfless and unconditional. She saw him treat other people that way, and she quickly welcomed his easy physical affection. But the emotions, how he saw her, and cared for her. That took a while. Because she had never experienced that before.
She comes back to the kitchen in soft pajama shorts and one of Ted’s old t-shirts, hair damp and loose, to find Ted setting two plates on her dining table. He's brought out her good wine, poured two glasses, and somehow made her kitchen look cozier than it ever does when she's alone.
"Sit," he says, and she does, gratefully.
The pasta is simple, with chicken and vegetables, but it's exactly what she needs.
Ted lets his hand linger on her knee for a bit, hoping to help her feel his presence. They eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he speaks.
"You wanna talk about it, or you wanna not talk about it?"
Rebecca considers. "The short version is that I have to make a decision that will either secure Richmond's financial future or erase everything I've built, and no matter what I choose, someone will be furious with me. And somehow that's just...one thing. Every day this week has been a thousand tiny choices that apparently only I can make."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It is." She takes a sip of wine. "I'm good at it, you know. Making decisions. Being in charge. I've spent years honing that skill. But lately it feels like..." She struggles for words. "Like I'm holding up the entire club with my bare hands and everyone keeps asking me to hold more."
Ted is quiet for a moment, turning his wine glass slowly. "You know something I learned bein’ a coach?"
"What?"
"Sometimes the best thing you can do for your team is let other folks make the plays. Not because you can't do it yourself, but because holding onto everything means nobody else gets to step up." He meets her eyes. "And because even the strongest person needs a break sometimes."
Rebecca feels that crack in her chest widen slightly. "I’m not sure I know how to do that."
"I know." His voice is soft. "But maybe you don't have to figure it all out tonight."
Her thumb is tracing her ring finger again, even though her ring is gone now. Like it’s the only thing her body can manage in this moment. But this time she's looking at Ted while she does it, and something in his expression shifts – understanding, she thinks. But of what, she’s not sure.
"Come here," he says quietly.
Rebecca stands, and Ted guides her onto his lap, arms wrapping around her waist as she settles against his chest. They sit like that for a while, her breathing gradually syncing with his, the warmth of him seeping into her bones. His hands press softly into her muscles, not staying in any certain position for too long, but just enough to help her relax.
"Better?" he murmurs eventually.
"Mm." She turns her face into his neck. "I don't want to think about Cerithium until tomorrow."
"Deal." His hand traces slow patterns up her spine. "What do you need right now?"
The question sends heat pooling low in her belly. It’s not what he says, but how he says it. Rough and low, like he already knows the answer, but he won’t assume. Won’t decide this for her without a clear answer. She shifts in his lap, feels him already half-hard beneath her, and makes a small sound of want.
Heat flares in his chest. He wants her - always does - but he also feels an odd sense of relief that she’s turning to him instead of shutting down.
"You," she whispers against his jaw. "I need... I need to stop thinking. Just for a while."
Ted's hand slides into her hair, tilting her head back so he can see her face. "Okay?"
"Yes," she breathes, and kisses him.
___________
Rebecca can feel herself unraveling the moment her back hits the wall outside her bedroom.
Ted kisses her like he’s trying to kiss the stress out of her body, slow but hungry, every pass of his mouth coaxing another piece of tension out of her shoulders. His hands slide beneath the hem of her shirt, fingertips tracing her ribs, then smoothing up her spine in long, grounding sweeps.
“Okay?” he murmurs into her mouth.
“Yes,” she breathes against his lips. “More.”
He smiles — a soft, devastating smile that always feels like a hand on her heart — and lifts her shirt slowly, deliberately, like he wants her to feel every inch of the reveal. When the fabric clears her head, her hair falls back over her shoulders and Ted looks at her the way men in novels look at holy things.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he says, thumb brushing under her breast. “You know that?”
She shakes her head once, embarrassed, which only makes him pull her close by her hips and kiss her harder.
“Can we lose these?” as his fingers hook into her shorts.
“God, yes,” she breathes.
She answers with her body, arching into him, catching his mouth in a kiss that says yes, more, please. By the time they tumble onto her bed, she’s already trembling with the need to shut her mind off – just for a little while, just enough to stop holding everything up on her own.
Ted kisses down her shoulder, slow and steady, grounding her with every inch.
“Easy, darlin’” he murmurs. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”
And she does. For the first time all day, she actually does.
Ted is always attentive. Something else she had to get used to, had to learn to accept. He takes his time, learns every sound she makes, adjusts based on her reactions. Tonight she needs it, needs the steadiness of him, the way he focuses on her like she's the only thing in the world that matters.
He kisses his way down her body. Rebecca’s breath stutters when his mouth finally settles between her thighs, the warmth of it enough to make her hips lift before she can stop herself.
He doesn’t ease into it. The first touch of his mouth is firm and purposeful. Rebecca’s breath catches hard, a sharp sound pulled from her chest as her thighs tense around him.
“Oh. Fuck.” She breaks off, head tipping back against the mattress. “Ted.”
She slides her fingers through his hair. Ted teases her clit with his tongue, and hears her quick intake of breath above him.
“So wet, baby.”
“I’ve been thinking about your mouth all day,” she admits.
Ted answers with a low, pleased sound and keeps going. He places a hand over her lower belly, holding her place while his mouth works her faster now, more insistently. The change makes her gasp, hips lifting again before she can think better of it.
“That’s it darlin’, take what you need.”
It’s too much and not enough all at once — the heat, the focus, the way he refuses to let her drift away from it. Her hands clutch at the sheets, then his shoulders, fingers digging in as the pressure builds.
He slides two fingers into her as he licks at her clit, finding the right pace easily.
“Ted - don’t stop.”
He curls his fingers and increases the speed of his tongue.
“There - Jesus, right there,” she cries out.
He doesn’t dare stop, not now. Ted knows she’s close, can feel her clenching around his fingers. She’s so tight and wet it's taking all of his control not to thrust against the bed as he licks and sucks at her.
Rebecca is a mess above him, so gorgeous - flushed and panting. Her fingers are in his hair and the other hand is twisting her nipple.
Her hips roll helplessly into his mouth, chasing the pressure, the rhythm. She relishes in the way he seems to know exactly when to stay right there.
“Ted -”
Rebecca starts to tense up and he doubles down on his actions, curling his fingers and pressing up hard, he sucks her clit and she cries out as she comes around his fingers.
Ted hums against her core as she breaks and he keeps licking at her clit while she catches her breath. He presses a soft kiss to her thigh, then another, easing her back down gently, while his fingers coax her through the last of it.
“Up here please,” she tells him.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He moves over her, fitting his body to hers like he was built for it. His forearm braces beside her head, the other hand tracing warm, steady lines down her side, anchoring her.
"This okay?" he checks as he positions himself above her.
"Yes, please," Rebecca manages, and he pushes inside with a groan that makes her clench around him.
They find their rhythm easily, a dance they've learned over months together. Slow, deep strokes that build something warm and perfect in her core. Ted's forearm is braced beside her head, his other hand at her hip, and Rebecca feels herself finally, finally starting to let go.
Ted’s focus is wholly on her, watching her face, adjusting whenever she reacts. He always pays attention.
She clutches at his shoulders, at his waist, desperate for the feeling of him filling her, pressing her down, quieting everything.
“That’s it. I’ve got you, baby.”
Ted moves to leave a line of kisses down her neck…not to mark or tease, just because he loves the sound she makes when he does. His hand trails from her shoulder, tracing up the line of her throat before he glides it back down.
He moves until his thumb comes to rest in the hollow at the base.
And then – everything changes.
Rebecca arches beneath him like he just lit a fuse.
She makes a sound he’s never heard her make before - it’s raw and guttural - and her hips lift hard into his without meaning to.
Ted stills instantly, gentle alarm softening his eyes as he tries to make eye contact with her.
“Hey,” he murmurs, sweet and concerned. “Rebecca, did I hurt you?”
“No,” she rushes, cheeks flushed, eyes glazed with surprise. “No. Just – don’t move your hand.”
His hand stays exactly where it is. Not gripping. Not guiding. Just…there. Warm. Present.
And something in her collapses in the best possible way.
A weight slides off her chest all at once – heavy, invisible, impossible to name until now – and her whole body loosens, sinking into the mattress. Every muscle unwinds like she’s been bracing for years and didn’t realize until this second.
His rhythm falters. She feels him process it…feels the exact moment realization strikes him. His eyes go wide, pupils blown nearly black.
Ted feels the shift like electricity. Something dark that he doesn’t expect curls low in his stomach.
“Oh,” he exhales, voice lower than she’s ever heard it. “You like that.”
His thumb presses – a little firmer this time – around her throat.
Rebecca whimpers. Not quiet. Not subtle. Her whole body pulls tight around him.
“Fuck,” Ted chokes softly, hips stuttering as he gets even harder inside her. “Oh, that’s –” He swallows. “That’s somethin’.”
“Don’t stop,” she begs, already gone, already surrendering, desperate in a way she’s never been with him. “Please, Ted – don’t stop.”
Her eyes flutter shut. Her shoulders melt. Her breathing deepens, syncing with his without effort. She looks…released.
Ted’s expression softens into something reverent.
“Baby,” he whispers, dawning tenderness spreading across his face. “This helps you.”
She nods without opening her eyes.
His focus sharpens, heat and wonder drawing his features tight. The gentleness is still there – but under it, something darker, something hungry wakes up.
He keeps his hand there – no real pressure, too afraid he might go too far. But he leaves the weight of it – and looks right into her.
Their eyes lock.
She can’t look away. She doesn’t want to.
Because in that moment she realizes she’s not coming apart from the sex alone – it’s the release. The stillness. The contact. The absence of choices.
An anchor. Ted.
Ted sees it happen. She watches the understanding flicker across his face, slow and certain. He lifts an eyebrow and heat floods her skin because he knows. He knows exactly what this means.
“Rebecca…” he starts, voice rough with something close to reverence, something close to hunger.
“Later,” she pants, the words fractured. “Talk later – I just need – just need – ”
“Okay,” he says immediately, like it costs him nothing. Like he’d give her anything she asked for. His hand slides up to cup her cheek briefly, steadying her as he kisses her deep and sure, never losing rhythm before he places it back at her throat.
“Okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
And Rebecca breaks – not in fear, not in pain, but in relief. Relief that someone else is holding her still for once. That she doesn’t have to make a single decision in this moment except to feel his body and his care and his quiet, anchored “I’ve got you.”
Ted murmurs her name into her mouth as she comes, and she clings to him almost subconsciously. Like she’s afraid he might pull away now that he knows this about her.
He follows moments later, burying his face in her shoulder, shivering through it, whispering soft things she’s only half aware of.
_____________
Ted’s hand traces slow circles along her shoulder, thumb brushing her collarbone. Rebecca’s breathing evens out beneath his chin and her pulse settles back into something familiar.
For a while, neither of them says anything.
Ted shifts slightly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You okay?"
"Mm." She nuzzles closer into his chest, not quite meeting his eyes. "More than okay."
He hums softly, but she can feel him thinking — the way his fingers pause for half a second before resuming their easy rhythm.
"So," he says carefully, fingers still moving in those soothing circles on her skin. "That was...that was new."
Rebecca exhales a quiet laugh. “Yes.”
"Good new, far as I can tell."
Rebecca huffs a short laugh, her cheek pressing into his chest. “Yes, Ted. Good new.”
Another pause. His hand stills for just a second before resuming its gentle motion.
"You wanna talk about it?" He asks, gently, like he fully expects she might refuse.
And there it is. The question she's not sure how to answer because she doesn't fully understand it herself. All she knows is that the moment his hand settled on her throat, something in her just...let go. Surrendered. Stopped fighting for control she didn't even realize she was still holding onto.
"I don't know," she admits quietly. "I'm not...I didn’t know it would feel like that.”
"Okay." His voice is so gentle it almost hurts. "That's okay."
"I've never..." She stops, starts again. "I've never let anyone do that before."
"No?"
"No." She finally tilts her head up to look at him, finds those warm eyes watching her with such careful attention. "I didn't know I would react like that. I didn't know I... wanted it."
“But you did want it.”
It's not quite a question, but she answers anyway. "Yes…yes, I did." She pauses, trying to find words for something she doesn't fully comprehend yet. "It felt like... like I could finally just be. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah," his thumb brushes along her jaw. She shivers, pressing closer, letting herself feel every inch of contact. "Yeah, darlin', that makes sense," he murmurs, his voice a low vibration against her hair.
Rebecca studies his face, looking for judgment, for concern, for any sign that this changes how he sees her. But all she finds is that same steady warmth, that same patient acceptance.
"Are you..." She hesitates. "Does it bother you? That I–"
"No." His answer is immediate and firm. "Rebecca, no. Not even a little bit." He cups her face gently, making sure she's looking at him. "If somethin’ makes you feel good, if it helps you let go of all that weight you're carryin'... that doesn't bother me. That's–" He seems to search for words. "That's a gift, that you trust me enough to let me see that."
Her throat tightens. "I do trust you."
"I know." He kisses her softly. "And we don’t need to figure it all out right now, or talk about it before you're ready. We've got time."
"What if I don't know what I want?" The words come out smaller than she intended. "What if I can't explain it?"
"Then we'll figure it out together." His voice is so calm, so certain. "No pressure. No expectations. Just... whenever you're ready, however you're ready, I'm here. You and me together."
Rebecca feels something loosen in her chest – different from earlier, but just as profound. "Okay."
"Okay." He pulls her closer, tucking her head beneath his chin. "For now, how about you just get some sleep? Tomorrow's gonna come whether we're ready or not."
She should probably get up, should go through her evening routine, should check her phone for any urgent messages. But his arms are warm around her and for the first time in days – maybe weeks – she feels like she can actually rest.
"Ted?"
"Mm?"
"Thank you. For dinner. For..." She trails off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence.
"Anytime," he murmurs into her hair. "I mean it. Anytime you need me to just take care of things for a bit, you let me know. Or - you know. I’ll just pay attention instead. You don’t need to worry about that."
Rebecca closes her eyes, letting his heartbeat under her ear lull her toward sleep. She knows they will figure out what this means eventually. They will need to have conversations about boundaries and desires and all the complicated things that come with discovering something new about yourself. A one off with something new is one thing, but she knows Ted won’t keep doing something until he understands what she’s consenting to.
But for tonight, this is enough. His steady presence, his patient acceptance, his quiet promise that she doesn't have to have all the answers right now.