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The Scythe's Song	By : hallowedmaiden Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Het - Male/Female > Jack/Elizabeth Views: 2844 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own POTC or the characters and I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
Being interrupted during any kind of task is perhaps the paramount annoyance that a person can experience. It makes the mind switch to something else entirely, something that has nothing to do with the previous task, an entirely new book when you haven't finished the last one yet, a new song when the last one was still in the middle of the first chorus, or going from a lovely beach stroll to driving home because your house is on fire.
Fragments of the thing you left behind stay and taunt you, trying to drag you back, invading your thoughts, polluting your attempts to concentrate on the new subject.
Most tasks she could handle abandoning. Sure, it was a minor inconvenience, but they could always be returned to, rebuilt, reorganized. What she could not handle was being interrupted while in the midst of any kind of sexual pleasure, especially when Jack was involved.
A wide breadth of experiences and vocabulary could be used to compare what being cut off from an orgasm felt like. For example, swimming in the ocean, a fair bit below the surface, then attempting to swim back up, only to discover that the surface kept raising higher and higher making relief from the depths impossible.
Or perhaps being shoved in a bonfire while forced to feel every single iota of heat with no possibility of the sweet release of death. Or being an evil genius finally having everything in order to take over the world, only to have the hero destroy all of your plans at the very last second, cueing the dramatic 'nooooooo'. Maybe being forced to sit in a room divided with a pane of glass, you on one side tied to a chair, with twelve million dollars cash on the other side.
It was an absolutely taunting thing, in the moment, like being shoved out of a pleasant dream, or being told that the winning lottery ticket in your hand is actually a joke, or for the love of your life to shout 'just kidding' as they get down on one knee.
Growing heat, the wildness, the abandon, the completely freeing effect that pleasure had could be twisted into a dangerous thing if left unsatisfied, unfulfilled right on the cusp of the tumble downwards into the point of no return, when the lungs start to forget how to inhale and exhale, when the muscles tighten to near unbearable levels, when the only function the brain can handle is making random noises spill from the mouth. The desperate sharp longing sets in almost instantaneously and the only kind of thoughts your brain can produce are strategies that lead you back to falling back into the sweet haven of pleasure.
The emotions that such an interruption brought to the surface were impressive. It was an acute feeling of anger, a pure lively type of anger, that made her pissed at everything, at the color of the wall, at the state of her fingernails, how frizzy her hair was, how dark it was in the room, how the floor felt against her feet, or for the floor just being there. If someone's voice had just the wrong tone, or if someone walked in front of her, or if someone actually tried to joke with her, all of those scenarios made her fantasize about slapping them.
"You had better not disappoint me," she had told him in a frustrated whisper when had withdrawn his fingers from her, the pleasure fogging her brain making her forget that Jack was incapable of being disappointing when it came to anything sexual.
He had leaned down to give her a sweet smiling kiss with undertones of amusement at her predicament, the terrible man, even though he knew full well the horror of being cut off from an orgasm, since there had been plenty of times when she had been interrupted with him in her mouth, or when they had both been interrupted with him inside of her. It took a great force for him to pull her off of him, accompanied by some very colorful curse words that could either be forced out in a quiet growl or shouted at the unlucky soul that was responsible. It took an even greater force for him to stop making love to her, and that was usually followed by him grabbing whichever gun was closest to him completely on impulse to shoot at anything that even resembled an interruption.
In fact, she would wager that Jack was turned into even more of a moody arse than she did when it happened, glaring and scowling at anyone and everything, clenching his fists, and god forbid should anyone try to talk to him. Verbal exercises could turn into a screaming match with him faster than it took for him to fire a gun.
When he had climbed off of the bed to retrieve his trousers, sending her teasing glances, making 'haha you have to suffer' noises, she had sat there, reigning in both her impulse to just finish herself off with her own hand, Suzuki and the entire world be damned, and her impulse to shoot the fucking woman on sight.
Apparently he had also decided to take a little bit of pity on her, because even though the glare she was sending him would have killed a lesser man, he still pulled her into his arms and whispered some very choice words describing exactly what he planned to do to her the second they made it back into the bedroom.
Which is where she found herself now, with her head cradled against his warm chest, her heart beating frantically from the after effects of his touch, a warm blush of frustration coloring her skin, and yet, her glare was quickly turning into a smile, not a very big smile, more like a smile that was just managing to peek through a person possessed by the devil. She was certainly hampered by such an ailment, as the devil himself, an intoxicating angelic devil, was whispering against her neck.
"If you want someone to let your grievances out on, you can let Suzuki in. I know how much you like her."
A delicious air of orchestration tinged his voice, and she immediately got the distinct impression that he had been waiting for the moment where she could show the woman her place since he had deprived her of it when they had first met.
"You're too sweet," was her reply, feeling a bit charged herself at the prospect. As a general rule, she wasn't territorial around women. She rarely felt the need to prostrate herself as superior or challenge other women to a battle of superiority, but for whatever reason, Suzuki was the exception to the rule.
His answering snicker told her that she was right.
"You're a King, darling. It's only natural for you to mark your territory."
He pulled away from her, his hand lingering within hers for just a second longer before he was leaving the bedroom, and with a long blustering sigh, she followed him down the hallway to the kitchen.
Ringa was sitting on the couch, nursing a glass of wine, while Shawn and Chris were sitting opposite her, talking about something or other. She caught the words 'car' and 'race'but didn't listen long enough to hear anything else.
Three sharp knocks on the door echoed through the house, and she crossed the room to open it, clearing her face of any kind of emotion. The lighting inside the house was a strange contrast to the moonlit front porch, the sound of the crickets particularly annoying at that moment.
"Suzuki."
It wasn't quite submission that entered the woman's face, but there wasn't an open challenge there either. More like a curiosity of something that could potentially kill you, similar to how some people have a fascination with poisonous snakes.
"Elizabeth. May I come in?"
Briefly she considered saying 'no, I was in the middle of something, go wait outside until I'm finished', but she stepped aside to let her enter, catching a side-eye from Jack that told her that he knew exactly what was going through her head, his lips curving into a smirk as though he hoped that she did have some kind of sarcastic comment lingering behind her barely hidden clenched jaw.
"Your house is as nice as ever, Jack."
Under what fucking circumstances had Suzuki been in Jack's house? The question was almost verbalized before Jack responded before she could say anything.
"Your box is over there," he jerked his thumb to the kitchen table. "But before you take it and vanish, I think we all need to have a little conversation."
Suzuki drew her attention away from admiring the mural in the kitchen, her eyes landing on Jack and lingering there a moment too long for her taste. She swore the woman gave him a full once over.
"Actually, before anyone has anything to say, I think an apology is in order."
Shock flew through when the sharp brown eyes turned towards her, the lighting of the house illuminating the rich dark tones of Suzuki's hair.
"What in the fuck do I have to apologize to-" she started, bristling at the suggestion before she was cut off.
"No, no, you misunderstand me. I need to apologize to you. The way I acted in India was uncalled for. Just instinct for me to distrust outsiders. And I'm sorry for calling you a tart on the phone. That was...distasteful of me."
The apology was rather out of the blue, but it made her feel a little less like strangling Suzuki. At least, for those transgressions. She still had the interruption to answer for.
"Honestly, I'm confused as to why it is that I'm still alive," she continued, twitching her head in Jack's direction, who only smirked against the crystal tumbler of rum he had in his hand. "I had always thought that in the incredibly unlikely circumstance of Jack Sparrow falling in love, an army wouldn't have a chance of harming that lucky woman. Which is you, apparently."
"I can fix the being alive thing if you want," Jack said from where he was lounging on his black leather sofa next to Ringa, like the King that he was. "Wouldn't take more than a quick bullet. Could probably do it with my eyes closed at this range."
"He's not lying you know," Chris remarked, idly playing with his pocket knife.
"I'm sure."
She seemed sincere, sincere enough at least, but the way she had been looking at Jack, like she was interested in him was making the little ugly sparks of jealousy creep up into her head, only calmed for now by catching Jack's eyes from where she was standing.
"Not that I claim to own Jack as my property, but I am the woman he loves." She said it in such a way that the word 'only' was there silently. She was marking her territory.
Suzuki inclined her head with a small nod, a sign of respect, while Jack's eyes sparkled with warmth at her from across the room, a silent 'you are indeed' communicated between them, then his mouth curved into a smirk again, and he knew he was remembering her physical frustration. Damn the man and his ability to infuriate and charm her at the same time so succinctly. She clenched her thighs together, raising her eyes to the ceiling, praying that she could make it until Suzuki left.
The Asian woman sat down in the living room with the rest of them. She sat next to Jack, and it was all she could do to not sit on Jack, in a decidedly less clothed state of being. So far, Jack had handled all of the dialogue between Suzuki are their side, but when he gave her a small nudge, she realized that he meant for her to take the lead on this one.
And take the lead she would.
"In the interest of making sure we are able to wash our hands of this job thoroughly, I think we ought to know a little more about why it is that you needed this evidence so badly. Surely the property that was taken from you is of considerable value-"
"Why, thinking of stealing it, were you?"
Just before she could formulate a response, Jack snuck another nudge, a caress more like, over the skin peeking out on her back between her black PJ trousers and her t-shirt. The infuriating man meant to tease her, as though he didn't know that at the moment, she was a lion who was being made to walk around a steaming hot piece of red meat while simultaneously being told she couldn't eat it.
Choosing to ignore him for the moment, she focused on Suzuki's remark, ignoring the snickering that the other three were doing too, especially ignoring the knowing glances Ringa kept sending her.
"Do you have a problem with what I choose to occupy my time with?"
An appreciative expression crossed Suzuki's face, as though she was enjoying this interaction.
"No, certainly not. The item stolen from me was something I was supposed to protect, requested to by a Cartel family. The father of the family has been causing too many problems, and so, this item was possessed until he chose to reevaluate his actions. The father asked me to retrieve it, and then Arturo gave me the task of retrieving the evidence, with the item as a reward."
"And the item? What is it?"
She was certainly not going to allow Suzuki to omit anything.
"The father's personal handgun. Normally it wouldn't be that big of a deal, but the gun has the family vault code engraved on it. Arturo was not aware of this, fortunately. He thought taking the gun as punishment was just a minor inconvenience."
"And now that you have the box, the family will get the gun back, you will go back to killing people, and we'll be finished?"
"Hai, yes. You'll be finished."
She rose from the couch, crossing the room to collect the box, and the rush of anticipation hit her like a sledgehammer. Just leave. Take the stupid box and leave.
"...Suzuki," came Jack's voice from next to her. The woman turned with the distinct air that she had been trying to avoid whatever Jack was about to say.
"Nani? What?"
"I don't want to find out you're lying. If any of this comes back around to us…"
He left the threat open ended, letting her imagine the consequences, but Chris whispered 'Japanese barbecue' under his breath, followed by Shawn's 'main course of Suzuki', making Jack barely twitch with laughter.
"I understand. You're free from the job. Thank you. Arigato."
It only took a second for her to go from the kitchen table to the front door, but it felt like a lifetime.
"Thank fuck," Chris said once the door was closed. "This clusterfuck of a job is over. Shawn and I were thinking about organizing a race. Wanna join?"
"And who's car do you suppose you're gonna drive?" Jack asked, looking around at him with a raised eyebrow.
To be quite fucking honest, she didn't particularly give a shit about any races, and Jack must know it with the twitching and squirming she was doing. She felt like she was on fucking fire.
"Well, we figured that you would be driving that shiny new McLaren. See what it can really do."
But Jack was already standing, her standing with him, clutching his hand, pushing him in the direction of the bedroom with small nudges. He threw some kind of reply at Chris before tugging at her hand, and she knew then and there that he had been as tortured as her since. The walk from the couch to the bedroom door felt like an eternity as her anticipation mounted, making her feel like a caged animal with the key to the door dangling just out of reach.
By the time they reached the bedroom, his name fell from her lips in a breathless moan, and she saw his hand trembling when he twisted the handle. Even before the door clicked shut, his hands were clutching her hips, squeezing, pushing her back against the wall, his body pressing against hers, the heat coming from it making her head swim, the only light from the room, the lamp on the nightstand, casting a warm soft glow around them.
"...Fuck, do you have any fucking idea..." came his voice, so ragged and aroused already against the skin of her neck as he dragged his lips across it, the velvety timbre making her core clench in a rush. "I thought I was going to die waiting," was her breathless reply, mixed with a minxy laugh, her voice heavy with desire.
His lips felt like sin against her as he sucked the skin just below her ear into his mouth, laving his tongue around it, sinking his teeth in, then soothing the bite marks with wet strokes while she dove her hands under his shirt, smoothing her fingers over the heated skin she found, lean muscle undulating with each uneven breath he took.
"I hate making you wait," and her knees nearly buckled at that, at his insistence for bringing her pleasure, making the ache between her legs almost painful, a delicious throbbing only increased when his face resurfaced, inching closer, a wicked grin spreading across his mouth. "I wonder how wet you are," and his hand worked itself to her, rubbing her through her clothes, her hips grinding against him.
"I don't have to wonder about you," she managed to reply, glancing down at the bulge in his trousers, reaching her hand, stroking across it through the rough fabric, earning her a hiss as he reached down to press her hand harder against himself, his mouth slanting over hers at the same time, his tongue slipping inside. "You're so hard," she whispered when he broke away for a second, a velvety snicker entering her mouth when he attached his lips to hers again, snatching her control over her body with each stroke of his fingers below. He thrust his hips against her hand, making it clear what it was that he wanted.
She wasted no time undoing the button of the black cargo shorts that he had dragged on, pulling the zipper down with shaking fingers, her hands flying to his hips to push them down, off of his body, the need to touch him destroying any other thought. When they hit the floor, she yanked his boxers down with a triumphant breath, her hips bucking against his hand when his cock sprang free. God, he was hard, harder than she had seen him in a long time, and she discovered that she might have said so out loud because he broke away from her mouth to give her a growl against her cheek, mixed with a delirious little laugh. "...It's all for you love…only for you..."
He was cut off when she took him in her hand and reversed them so that his back was against the wall, shoving him a little harder than necessary, and smirked when his head tilted back as she sidled up to him, pressing her stomach against his erection, leaning up to tease him. "What something, Captain?" she asked, wrapping her fingers around him, squeezing lightly, retracting to explore the ridges of his thick length, trailing her finger up the throbbing vein on the underside, stroking the tip with her thumb. The power that she held in her hand sent heat washing over her with each breath she took.
It was so mind-numbing that she could reduce him to a quivering mass of need against a wall, that she could make his walls crumble until all he wanted, all he could think about was her, and what she was doing to him. She also loved that he never hesitated to tell her exactly what he wanted, never tried to dance around it, never shied away from it.
"I want your mouth wrapped around me," was his reply, barely discernible through the huskiness of his voice, and then his words broke off into a strangled growl when she immediately sank to her knees, his cock standing proudly in front of her, begging for attention. Curling her hands around his hips, she leaned forward to tease her tongue from the base to the tip in one long wet stroke. "Christ, damn tease."
She looked up to find him watching her, his dark eyes glittering with the light from the lamp, his lips parted, heavy breaths being pushed through them. "I could always stop," she said, a smirk appearing on the edge of the last word.
"No, you couldn't, Lizzie. You enjoy having me in your mouth too much for that, and I love you for it."
His hands smoothed through her hair as he smiled down at her with a roguish charm, but she wasn't done yet, wasn't going to let him win this little battle quite that easily. "Mmm, I do. All hot and hard, and so thick, all for me. You're intoxicating." Each chunk of words was punctuated by another stroke of her tongue, and another hiss from him. She wanted him completely unraveled by the time she took him in her mouth.
"You love the way my tongue feels, don't you? The way it strokes-" A devilish laugh rumbled in his chest, making her stop to watch him as he crumbled even more, his hands tightening in her hair. "Trying to make me lose it again, hmm? That is a dangerous game to play, darling."
"Ahh, but it's so fun," and then she did take him in, only the tip, swirling her tongue around it, sucking just on this side of too hard, before sinking her mouth down him as slowly as she could, holding him in place with her hands on his hips. The moan that came from him could make even a nun throw open her legs for him because god he sounded beautiful. She kept him buried, twitching the tip of her tongue around him, sucking, and then the hands that were tangled in her hair pulled just slightly, and she laughed, letting the sound vibrate onto him as she pulled back all the way to the tip, stroking back down.
His hands flexed against her head as she worked him, tightening her mouth, moaning around him, then finally he dug his fingers into her hair and quickened her rhythm himself, and she let him, delighting at him taking control, at his gorgeous voice whispering blistering things, until he stopped, lifting her off of him, his chest heaving.
"Too much?" she asked, kissing her way up his stomach, giving him little love bites, smoothing her hands up his sides as she stood, stopping to take a nipple in her mouth, earning her a whimper.
"Never love, but I seem to remember you nearly dying with frustration, and I know you aren't faring any better now. Let's find out, shall we?"
She didn't have time to giggle as he pushed her back against the wall, dragging her trousers down her legs, exposing her to his hungry gaze. He curled his hand around her arse, lifting her and attacking her mouth with his at the same time. Strong arms slid around her as her legs wrapped around his waist, the hard surface of the wall disappearing as she was carried away from it. Her shirt was tugged off of her, thrown somewhere, and the soft surface of the bed was the next thing she knew as she was tossed there, Jack covering her body with his immediately, crushing her mouth with another kiss, his tongue leaving no corner of her unexplored.
His cock slid against her wet heat in a torturous motion, and she undulated, trying to get him inside, but he evidently had other plans. "No, darling, not yet."
"Damn tease," she mewled, throwing his words back at him.
"Peas in a pod, love," he said as he lowered his head to take a nipple into his mouth, nipping at her, flicking his tongue against the peak, his other hand kneading her left breast, then abandoning it to sink lower, across her flat stomach, over her thigh, inching closer, then his fingers found her center, dipping in, spreading the wetness around.
"You're fucking dripping," he growled against her skin, making her buck against him. She reached down a hand to feel for herself, brushing his hand there as he stroked her, squeezing his one of his fingers in appreciation before wrapping her entire hand around his. "It's all for you love," she said, mimicking him with a soft smile on her face. He leaned up to kiss her tenderly, sliding his fingers all the way inside below, moving them in a steady rhythm.
"Amazing," was all he said, placing soft kisses on her jawline as she clenched her legs around his arm from the sensations that he was creating, her body jumping when his thumb found her clit, circling around it slowly. A sudden need to have him bare before her had her free hand dragging his shirt up and over his head, winning an amused chuckle from him as his raven hair fell around his shoulders, mussed from their activities. "I love the way you sound when I touch you," he whispered. "So free."
"I have nothing...oh...nothing to hide from you."
And she didn't. She had heard of some women being embarrassed about being loud, but she rather thought that it was the wrong choice in men that brought about their hesitancy. There wasn't any part of her that felt like she had to hold back with Jack, or hide her pleasure, and it was the most beautiful feeling to completely let go with him, to feel so uninhibited, because it allowed her to quite suddenly tighten her hand around his to stop his movements, a gesture that he knew all too well. "Something you need, love?" but the damned man, of course, knew what she needed.
"...Your mouth...tongue…" The words came out more as sounds formed by only breath rather than her vocal chords. He grinned at her as he kissed down her body, stopping to take her nipple into his mouth again, then traveling down her stomach, pausing to mark her skin with little nibbles, before arriving at her core. She kept her legs closed only because one of her favorite things in the world was watching him spread them to look at her. The heat in his eyes always made her feel so powerful.
His hands curled around her thighs as he gently parted them, a breath of awe coming out of his mouth as he gazed upon her.
"See something you like, love?" she asked him, finally understanding why he used the endearment so much. It rolled off the tongue so perfectly, and calling him love did strange mushy warm things to her insides. "You're so damn pretty here," he whispered, trailing a teasing finger around her center without actually touching it. "Perfectly pink, so soft, and when you're this wet for me, you have no idea..." he trailed off, before finding his voice again. "Mine," he said, his hand covering her. But it wasn't possessive, it was said more like he didn't quite believe it, like he was still trying to convince himself that the world had aligned in such a way to allow them to be here, doing this, as a couple, together.
"Yours, Jack. Only yours." Her words brought a soft smile to his face, free of any mischief or taunting, just simply happy.
Then he leaned forward and flicked his tongue across her clit, and she nearly floated off the bed, her hands coming down to grasp each side of his head, threading through his hair as he applied his mouth in earnest, spreading her open with two fingers to dip his tongue inside her, before dragging it back up to her clit, his fingers sinking deep inside, curling up to massage her there as he worked magic with his mouth.
"...yes yes yes…" was all she could formulate as she climbed, her hips pulsing against him, breathy moans spilling from her throat each time that tell tale heat flashed in her loins. She loved when he did this, not necessarily because it felt good, at least not just that, but because he was always so attentive. The amount of focus he put into each response of her body, the nuances he employed, a different angle on a certain flick of his tongue, different speeds of his fingers, oh god, it was like he was playing a complex instrument that he had mastered, driving her higher and higher into oblivion.
"...Jack...almost there…" and then she held his head there to make sure he wasn't going to stop, make sure he was going to finish it, and it won her a devilish chuckle when he did pull away for a second. "Even I'm not quite that evil, darling."
"...at least...oh god...at least…" She couldn't finish her sentence, couldn't process words right at that moment, because he had sucked her clit into his mouth, was humming against it, swirling his tongue, and it was just all so much. Her hips were bucking uncontrollably, at one point she might have pulled her own hair but she wasn't sure, and then without warning it struck, streaking out from her clit as though she had been hit with a whip made of fire, traveling through her entire body in vicious waves, and she might have said Jack's name once or a million times, or she might have said nothing, or some nonsense, but she didn't know that either because the buzzing, the roaring, in her ears rendered her senseless to anything besides the pleasure.
When she finally did start to float back down, when her chest stopped heaving as though she had sprinted from one end of England to the other, the only thing she could think to do was finish what she had been trying to say earlier.
"At least not all the time is what I was trying to say," but it came out as a whisper, as though her voice had been stolen by his mouth. "Sometimes you do stop just before, and-"
"Ah, but darling," and she discovered that he was draped across her body again when his voice vibrated against the skin of her neck; when had that happened? "Like I always say, it's better in the end if you can handle delaying it."
The sudden urge to just look at him gripped her. She nudged her shoulder up, and he raised his head. "Hmm?" came out in half protest and half curiosity.
'I just wanted to see your face," and then her finger was caressing his cheek seemingly of its own volition, trailing over his perfect cheekbones, over his perfectly angled forehead, across his jawline, dancing over the skin just above his eyes, before arriving to trace his lips. It had taken her a little while to get used to seeing his forehead once the bandanna had finally come off, and it had amused him to no end to find her staring at it randomly. "What's so special about my face?"
It was a question that had a million answers and none at all at the same time. The many different expressions his face could have, the way his jaw tightened when he was angry, the way everything about his face darkened when he was angry, or the way that he could soften his face so perfectly when he looked at her, or the way his eyes still crinkled just a little bit when he laughed, or his beautiful smile, or his saucy grin...everything about his face was so alluring, so hypnotizing. "It's yours, and I have a little bit of time to look at it, because it's also mine, so…"
The rest of the sentence trailed off, the meaning hanging in the air without needing to be said. "My face is yours?" came his teasing reply.
"Jack, all of you is mine...oh…"
He had just reached down without her paying attention to place the tip of his cock at her entrance, and was now sliding it up and down gently. All she could do was nod, reminded of her aching need for him so much that the ache surprised her with how swiftly it made itself known.
He rocked forwards, entering her with just the first few inches, then stopped, and she opened her eyes, not realizing that she had closed them in the first place.
"What-"
"I wanted to say something...that...well, I'm not very good at mushy things-"
Her heart fluttered, and she reached up to cup the side of his face. "Just say it, love." He hesitated for a second longer, leaning down to kiss her first.
"You and I, we...this, is stronger than any stupid argument, or separation, or anything. We have something so...pure...that...I think we were always together, at least here," he stopped to tap on her chest above her heart. "It just took us a little while to wake up."
It made her forget for a second that they were about to make love, it made all of the bad shit disappear, anything that might have been clouding her mind, vanished. "Oh, Jack…"
"I love you...more...more than anything, and this," he took her hand and placed it on his chest above his heart, "has always been yours, and will always be yours."
Any reaction she might have had, any response that she might have managed to formulate, not that she believed she could formulate a response, was chased away when he sank inside of her to the hilt, trapping her breath in her chest before she could exhale. "Oh god...every time…"
Every time...this was something that language couldn't describe, having him inside of her. It went beyond the physical realm, into something else entirely, something that made her ascend into a realm that could only be called paradise. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he circled one arm under her shoulders to cradle her body, his hand burying itself in her hair. Something was lit within her, some gentle flame when he started to thrust. He kept his pace tender, his right hand massaging her hip, his lips covering her own in such a sweet kiss that it made her stomach clench with emotion.
Oh god, nothing could be better than this, than being his, being together, being loved by him, loving him, it was all she would ever need, and then some, and as she trailed her hands down his back, feeling the muscles working, she felt so damn lucky that he was hers.
"You're right I think," she whispered against his cheek. "I think we are...almost fated, in a way, to be together." His hand closed around her breast, softly squeezing it.
"I'm right about most things, darling," but his voice didn't hold his usual arrogant teasing, only a breathlessness, a complete abandoning of any song and dance, a tone that was a little rough around the edges with pleasure. She tightened her legs around him a little harder than normal, and his movements faltered, earning her a curious twinkle in his eyes. A few seconds ticked by, and she didn't even have to say anything for him to understand.
He withdrew from her and moved to sit against the headboard, smiling at her as she straddled him, reaching down to place him at her entrance again, then sinking down slowly, watching his reaction, feeling his hips start to thrust.
"No," she said softly, her hand holding him down. "Just me." She even decided to lace her fingers with his, trapping his hands against the mattress. It wasn't often that she tapped into her more dominating side, but when she did, it drove him absolutely wild. Her hips rose, until just the tip of him was still inside of her, then fell slowly, a rough moan spilling from her. He always felt so big this way, filled her so perfectly, which apparently she also said out loud without realizing it, because he chuckled, smiling at her, a kind of wonder in his eyes.
She kept her pace slow, wanting to see how far she could take it before he couldn't take it. His self-control was a marvelous thing, but like everything, it had its weaknesses, this being one of them. "You really love making me crazy, don't you?" he asked, not even twitching his hands. He was trying to prove that he could handle it, but he was wrong, so wrong.
"You know I do. I love the way you feel-" she smoothed her hands up his chest, playing with his nipples as she rose and fell on his length, "and I love you being like this, just letting yourself be loved by me. For a person like you, placing that kind of trust in someone is so unlikely, and doing it for me is the most precious thing…"
The words jumbled in her throat when the heat inside of her core became overwhelming as it slithered into the rest of her body, but she knew she was going to need more. Releasing his hands, he sighed gratefully when he was able to curl them around her hips, moving her a little faster, before tugging her body to him, circling his arms around her back. She did the same thing, clutching at his shoulders, kissing them softly, smiling when one of his hands found its way into her hair again.
"More...I need more," and then he was rolling them and dragging her legs to lock high around his waist, crushing her mouth with his, letting go of all the pent up tension she had been stirring within him since they had gotten in the bedroom, his thrusts becoming sharp, hard, a beautiful contrast to the way he was cradling her upper body so tenderly. Something that sounded like his name spilled out of her, but she wasn't sure, couldn't think past the way his hips were meeting hers, increasing in speed with each cry that left her mouth, until she couldn't breathe, didn't even remember what breathing was. All that mattered was finding that glorious release, all that mattered was the noises he was making, all that mattered was the weight of his body on hers, how safe she felt, then it all crystallized, and her body surged against him, a scream torn from her throat at the power of her orgasm, sending her to heights that she couldn't comprehend, couldn't…
She was still floating high, still there, when he growled her name in his moment of release, and she clutched him against her, held his body to hers when he shuddered, coming hard with several rough jerks of his hips, before stilling to ride out the rest of his orgasm, his arms holding her tightly as the last few shocks of pleasure left him. Him being that undone, that raw emotionally, was so intoxicating to her.
His heartbeat was frantic against her chest as he kept holding her, as though he was afraid she would fade away if he let go, but she didn't mind, would never mind, loved when he stayed on top of her, stayed inside of her, for as long as possible after they both finished.
There was no chuckle this time, no teasing, just a breathless "I love you" whispered into her ear, and then he lifted his head to stare down at her.
'I love you too," she whispered back, smoothing some of the hair away from his face, just before he leaned down to give her a toe-curling kiss, then slipping out of her to roll over, gathering her in his arms.
Nothing needed to be said between them in that moment, as all they needed was each other, just there, in the silence of the room, and they both fell asleep to the sound of their own breathing, both feeling a sense of peace.
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The Scythe's Song