Something Akin to Dread (6/6)
Title: Something Akin to Dread (6/6)
Rating: M
Author: jlrpuck
Pairing: Ruby Quarles, Elias McCoy
Disclaimer: The characters contained in this story are the products of my imagination; as such, I retain all right to and ownership of them.
Summary: Another of the tales relating to Elias and Ruby McCoy.
Notes: Thank you to ginamak, earlgreytea68 and chicklet73 for their beta of this earlier this year.
Any mistakes in this story are mine, and mine alone.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six
Although Ruby still hurt when they emerged from the steam-filled room a half-hour later, she felt far better than she had since the accident. “Thank you,” she said softly, stopping suddenly and turning into Elias as he followed behind.
“For what?”
“Everything.” She pressed up onto her toes, kissing him. His beard was scratchy against her skin but she didn’t care. She instead brought both hands to stroke against the rough hair, matching the gentle movement of her tongue against his.
“Rue…” He pulled back from this kiss, his eyes closed and his voice breathy.
“Hmm?”
“We can’t…”
“Can’t we?” She rocked her hips into his, knowing he was interested.
“Your ribs…”
“Yes,” she drawled slowly, rocking back onto flat feet and placing kisses over his chest. “But there are ways around that.”
He frowned, his eyes open now and watching her. “I can’t think of any, and I’ve quite the imagination…”
“Mmm, so you do.” Her hand slipped between their bodies, and she made sure to glance up at him as she took him in hand. His gaze darkened, his mouth opening slightly; and then he tilted his head back, his jaw working as she coaxed him along.
“Ruby…”
She nipped at the curve of his neck, her hand tightening around him.
“What’s your idea?” he finally gasped, raising his head, staring at her through glassy eyes.
“The dining room chair,” she whispered. “C’mon.”
It wasn’t perfect but it did suit, and she rested against Elias when he finally came, pulsing within her as she relaxed after her own release. His arms held her loosely to him as she straddled his lap, his head buried between her breasts; she rested her hands on the back of the chair, trying to catch her breath without taking one deep enough to send a jolt of pain down her side.
“All well?” Elias finally asked, raising his head to look up at her.
“Oh yes.”
That earned a toothy grin from him, and he slid his hands to the curve of her bum. “Wanna do it again?”
She laughed, then took a sharp breath at the stab of pain. “Maybe later,” she said, wincing.
He nodded, and placed a wet kiss against the top of her breast. “Now we know it won’t hurt ye, definitely.”
She stood on shaking legs-it had made for divine sex, but she’d had to entirely rely on her legs to move against Elias, providing her a better workout than she’d had in ages-and waited for Elias to join her. He stayed seated, his eyes once more running appraisingly over her body, his fingers lightly catching hers.
“Another bruise?” she asked, tilting her neck to stretch the taut muscles of her shoulders.
“Aye. But also enjoying you, being here.”
She glanced down at him, noting how sombre he suddenly appeared. Elias could be mercurial, especially when tired, which she supposed accounted for at least some of his mood swing.
“I’ve no plans to go anywhere, Eli.”
“No. No one ever does.”
She felt a wave of worry pass through her. He rarely had flashbacks any more-years of therapy and acceptance had helped him to come to terms with what he’d been through before they’d married. It was apparent, however, that he wasn’t completely past it-and she doubted he ever truly would be.
She returned to his lap, sinking onto his thighs, pushing her pain to the side. She used her hands to cradle his jaw, forcing him to look directly at her. “Elias.”
His pupils were huge, and not in the way she associated with his arousal; he was there but not, and she stood and practically ran to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. She couldn’t bring him out of it-she’d tried to, so many times, and had yet to find a way--but she could be ready for him when he came back to the present. A glass of water, one of the ever-present bananas; she returned to the kitchen, and settled back onto his lap as he continued to stare into space.
And then he was back, shaking his head slightly, frowning and then staring at her in horror. “I did it again.”
“Shh. Here’s some water.” She handed him the glass, using her newly-freed hand to brush his hair back. He took a long gulp, then another one, and finally met her eye.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ve told you before-nothing to be sorry for.” She leaned back, peeling the banana, then broke off a piece to feed him. He tried to take it from her; she dodged, fighting not to grimace as she twisted her body. It must have still shown, though, as he meekly opened his mouth and let her feed him. “There’s a good lad.”
“Don’t be patronising.”
“Don’t be intransigent.” She broke off another piece of banana, fighting back a smile as he opened his mouth once more. She waited until colour had returned to his cheeks before speaking again. “I want you to promise me something.”
His eyes returned to hers, wary but once again a deep brown. “And that is.”
“That if I get myself killed, you’ll get help. And you won’t fall apart.”
He frowned, arching as though trying to pull away. The chair back prevented him from moving, though, and he was forced to stay within close proximity. “I don’t want to discuss it, Ruby.”
“Why not?”
“Because it won’t happen.”
“We both work in very dangerous jobs, Eli. It’d be stupid-”
“I don’t want to talk about it!” His shout startled both of them.
“Tough,” she said quietly, once silence had returned to the apartment.
“Ruby.” His voice was hard, but she could still see the fear in his eyes.
“Shh. Eat more banana.” She stroked his cheek with her knuckles, then held a piece of banana to his lips.
“I can’t bear to think of it, Ruby. Please.”
She sighed, popping the banana in her mouth instead, dropping the empty peel behind the chair back. Elias watched her, his eyes pleading.
“Alright,” she finally said after she’d swallowed. “Alright.” The last was said with a heavy sigh; she knew when Elias was at the breaking point, and she had no desire to drive him past it over something which hopefully would never come to pass. She leaned forward, brushing a kiss across his cheek, and bit her lip as she brought her arms to rest on his shoulders, her muscles protesting sharply. His hands drifted to her hips, and he buried his nose in her hair. “Smells awful, I’d bet,” she said softly.
“Smells good,” he mumbled.
“You’re biased.”
“I’m madly in love with ye.”
“And so you are.” She placed another kiss against his cheek, then moved to rest her forehead against his.
They remained like that-her hands stroking his hair as she rested against him, his hands resting at her hips as he closed his eyes and relaxed-until the room was nearly dark.
~ - ~
The pills Rose gave to her did not make her sick, and Elias appeared from running the errands the next day with a bottle full of them. At her request he’d gone into work to collect files for her to work on; he had also, apparently, been given several cards to pass along, many of them from colleagues and one or two from upstairs. She laughed at the one from Cunningham, passing it to Elias without comment; he read the scrawled “Get well soon. Someone has to keep McCoy in line, and you’re the only one to do it!”, then shook his head.
Flowers began to appear the day after-the first day she felt truly able to be up and move around on her own for a prolonged period of time. There was a gorgeous, gigantic arrangement from the Tylers, a smaller, more restrained one from some of her oldest friends at the Met, and a lovely basket of heather from Peter and Rose. Her parents had also arranged for a cheery bouquet, and she smiled at the typed message. “They say to make sure you coddle me,” she read to Elias as he cooked, handing the card over to him when he looked up.
He glanced at it, shaking his head as he laughed, then handed it back to her. “They must think I spoil you terribly.”
“You do spoil me terribly.” She reached for the bottle of wine Elias had opened, and topped off his glass. “They approve.”
“Good.” He lifted the glass, the dark red liquid moving gently, then offered it to her. “A sip?”
“Don’t think so. Rose’s tea has helped, but I don’t want to drink anything to keep me from taking the heavier stuff, just in case.”
“Do your ribs still pain you that much, Rue?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.
“They don’t. I…just don’t want to tempt fate.”
He nodded, then took a large sip. He watched her for a moment longer before returning his attention to the sauce before him on the hob.
They sat next to each other again at the table, the flora she’d received lining the far side of it. Elias still insisted on cutting her food for her, in spite of her protestations that she could do it; and then he insisted on feeding her, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he brought the fork to her lips.
“What’ve you got up your sleeve?” she finally asked, laughing, the pain still strong, but more bearable now for its familiarity.
“I’m making sure my wife is well-fed. And then I plan to seduce her.”
“You’re always seducing your wife.”
“I’m such a rogue.” He fed her another bite, then took one for himself.
“And how are you planning to seduce her, Mister McCoy?” she asked as he finished chewing.
His mouth quirked in the way she loved, and she felt an answering smile form.
“I was thinking, Miss Quarles, that I might draw her a bath.”
“But if she has bruised ribs, that might hurt.”
“Aye, it might.” He fed her another forkful. “But not if I take care to pad the bath with towels.”
“So long as you’re the one doing the laundry,” she muttered, earning a laugh.
“If my wife so desires.” He took a bite from the almost-empty plate. “The important thing is that I’ll wash her hair for her.”
“I didn’t think she was allowed to have her hair washed.”
“Ah, but she doesn’t know that, as she napped this morning, a bit of detecting by her clever husband turned up a loophole.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Her hair will be washed. Mostly.”
“Lucky woman.”
“Lucky husband.”
“And then?” She reached over, swiping up some of the sauce with her finger, making sure he was watching before she put it into her mouth and slowly drew it out.
“After the bath?” He watched, distracted, as she repeated the action.
“After the bath. You’re both naked, and warm, and not a little damp. Then what?”
“Then I plan to take her to bed.”
“That’s rather a flowery way of saying you plan to shag her.”
“It’s not a euphemism. I plan to take her to bed, and tell her how very much I love her.”
“Does she not know?”
They were completely ignoring the few bites of food left on the plate, concentrating on each other fully. She loved it when he was like this: open with her, in the way she’d come to first love so many years before. It had so much more impact when they could see each other, rather than listening to one another over a tinny radio.
“I suspect she does not.”
“What will you tell her?”
“Ah, that is between my wife and I.” There was another mischievous smile, and he turned back to the plate.
“And then?”
“And then what?” He assembled a forkful of food, and offered it to her. She took it, holding his gaze as he pulled the fork from her mouth.
“After you’ve told her?”
“Then, Miss Quarles,” he leaned forward, mere inches from her, “I plan to make love to her until she cries for mercy.”
“In spite of her ribs?”
“I’ve done a bit of research on that.” His slow grin was lethal, and she was sorely tempted to lean forward and kiss him. He saw it, his grin widening, and he straightened. “But as that’s all between my wife and I, I’ll say no more.”
“Terrible man.”
“Mmm, so she tells me.” He laughed, and cleaned the plate.
He was true to his word, running a lovely bath for them, helping her in to it before pulling her to rest against his chest. He took great care in washing her hair, avoiding the area that had been sutured, his fingertips gentle as he tried to avoid any bruises. It felt utterly divine to have mostly-clean hair again, and she happily leaned against his chest once he was done.
“How’re ye doing?” he murmured against her ear, his hands twined with hers and resting on her stomach.
“Best I’ve been in days.”
“The ribs?”
“The stretching has helped.” It had been one of Elias’s co-workers to suggest it, simply stretching a little bit each day as she felt up to it. It did help, and had meant she’d not relied quite so heavily on the paracetamol.
But then, she’d always been told she had a ludicrously high pain threshold.
He wrapped her in a robe before tying a towel around his hips, and then he led her into their bedroom, a hair brush in hand. She smiled up at him as she sat; he brushed a kiss over her nose, then kneeled on the bed behind her, gently brushing her hair.
“This is terribly relaxing,” she murmured, the knots now removed and Elias simply running the brush through her hair.
“Good.” He leaned down, whispering, “I’m trying to weaken your defences.”
“As though I’d fight you,” she replied, laughing lightly.
“I hope not.”
“No, I don’t see that ever happening.” She grinned.
He finally set the brush aside, and began to trail kisses along the curve of her neck. She sighed, each press of his lips sending tiny shocks through her.
“I thought you were going to tell your wife how much you loved her,” she murmured, torn between him continuing what he was doing, and moving forward.
“I’d planned to, but I suspect she already knows.” His lips moved to the corner of her jaw. “So I plan to show her instead.”
Show her he did, taking care that she’d not be uncomfortable as he made love to her. As promised, he drove her to shout his name as she climaxed, his body moving above hers, the pain from her ribs temporarily erased by the endorphins flooding her system. He then continued to rock against her, his hips rotating more with each stroke, his eyes locked on hers as he silently drove himself on.
She finally reached for him, the fingertips of her left hand just able to brush his growing beard as he began to move faster. It was beginning to hurt, the way he was making her torso bend, but he looked so intent-even more so than he normally did.
“I’m not leaving you, Eli. Ever,” she finally whispered.
It had been what he needed to hear, and he came a few strokes later, her name on his lips. He leaned forward, kissing her gently, his tongue stroking deeply against hers, his hand buried in her hair on the side without stitches.
“Don’t leave me, don’t,” he finally whispered, kissing her once more.
“Never.” She pulled back, making sure he looked at her before she repeated, “Never ever.”
His eyes searched hers, then he leaned forward for a breath-stealing kiss.
She fell asleep still wrapped in his arms, and got the first solid night’s sleep since her accident.
~ fin ~
Rating: M
Author: jlrpuck
Pairing: Ruby Quarles, Elias McCoy
Disclaimer: The characters contained in this story are the products of my imagination; as such, I retain all right to and ownership of them.
Summary: Another of the tales relating to Elias and Ruby McCoy.
Notes: Thank you to ginamak, earlgreytea68 and chicklet73 for their beta of this earlier this year.
Any mistakes in this story are mine, and mine alone.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six
Although Ruby still hurt when they emerged from the steam-filled room a half-hour later, she felt far better than she had since the accident. “Thank you,” she said softly, stopping suddenly and turning into Elias as he followed behind.
“For what?”
“Everything.” She pressed up onto her toes, kissing him. His beard was scratchy against her skin but she didn’t care. She instead brought both hands to stroke against the rough hair, matching the gentle movement of her tongue against his.
“Rue…” He pulled back from this kiss, his eyes closed and his voice breathy.
“Hmm?”
“We can’t…”
“Can’t we?” She rocked her hips into his, knowing he was interested.
“Your ribs…”
“Yes,” she drawled slowly, rocking back onto flat feet and placing kisses over his chest. “But there are ways around that.”
He frowned, his eyes open now and watching her. “I can’t think of any, and I’ve quite the imagination…”
“Mmm, so you do.” Her hand slipped between their bodies, and she made sure to glance up at him as she took him in hand. His gaze darkened, his mouth opening slightly; and then he tilted his head back, his jaw working as she coaxed him along.
“Ruby…”
She nipped at the curve of his neck, her hand tightening around him.
“What’s your idea?” he finally gasped, raising his head, staring at her through glassy eyes.
“The dining room chair,” she whispered. “C’mon.”
It wasn’t perfect but it did suit, and she rested against Elias when he finally came, pulsing within her as she relaxed after her own release. His arms held her loosely to him as she straddled his lap, his head buried between her breasts; she rested her hands on the back of the chair, trying to catch her breath without taking one deep enough to send a jolt of pain down her side.
“All well?” Elias finally asked, raising his head to look up at her.
“Oh yes.”
That earned a toothy grin from him, and he slid his hands to the curve of her bum. “Wanna do it again?”
She laughed, then took a sharp breath at the stab of pain. “Maybe later,” she said, wincing.
He nodded, and placed a wet kiss against the top of her breast. “Now we know it won’t hurt ye, definitely.”
She stood on shaking legs-it had made for divine sex, but she’d had to entirely rely on her legs to move against Elias, providing her a better workout than she’d had in ages-and waited for Elias to join her. He stayed seated, his eyes once more running appraisingly over her body, his fingers lightly catching hers.
“Another bruise?” she asked, tilting her neck to stretch the taut muscles of her shoulders.
“Aye. But also enjoying you, being here.”
She glanced down at him, noting how sombre he suddenly appeared. Elias could be mercurial, especially when tired, which she supposed accounted for at least some of his mood swing.
“I’ve no plans to go anywhere, Eli.”
“No. No one ever does.”
She felt a wave of worry pass through her. He rarely had flashbacks any more-years of therapy and acceptance had helped him to come to terms with what he’d been through before they’d married. It was apparent, however, that he wasn’t completely past it-and she doubted he ever truly would be.
She returned to his lap, sinking onto his thighs, pushing her pain to the side. She used her hands to cradle his jaw, forcing him to look directly at her. “Elias.”
His pupils were huge, and not in the way she associated with his arousal; he was there but not, and she stood and practically ran to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. She couldn’t bring him out of it-she’d tried to, so many times, and had yet to find a way--but she could be ready for him when he came back to the present. A glass of water, one of the ever-present bananas; she returned to the kitchen, and settled back onto his lap as he continued to stare into space.
And then he was back, shaking his head slightly, frowning and then staring at her in horror. “I did it again.”
“Shh. Here’s some water.” She handed him the glass, using her newly-freed hand to brush his hair back. He took a long gulp, then another one, and finally met her eye.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ve told you before-nothing to be sorry for.” She leaned back, peeling the banana, then broke off a piece to feed him. He tried to take it from her; she dodged, fighting not to grimace as she twisted her body. It must have still shown, though, as he meekly opened his mouth and let her feed him. “There’s a good lad.”
“Don’t be patronising.”
“Don’t be intransigent.” She broke off another piece of banana, fighting back a smile as he opened his mouth once more. She waited until colour had returned to his cheeks before speaking again. “I want you to promise me something.”
His eyes returned to hers, wary but once again a deep brown. “And that is.”
“That if I get myself killed, you’ll get help. And you won’t fall apart.”
He frowned, arching as though trying to pull away. The chair back prevented him from moving, though, and he was forced to stay within close proximity. “I don’t want to discuss it, Ruby.”
“Why not?”
“Because it won’t happen.”
“We both work in very dangerous jobs, Eli. It’d be stupid-”
“I don’t want to talk about it!” His shout startled both of them.
“Tough,” she said quietly, once silence had returned to the apartment.
“Ruby.” His voice was hard, but she could still see the fear in his eyes.
“Shh. Eat more banana.” She stroked his cheek with her knuckles, then held a piece of banana to his lips.
“I can’t bear to think of it, Ruby. Please.”
She sighed, popping the banana in her mouth instead, dropping the empty peel behind the chair back. Elias watched her, his eyes pleading.
“Alright,” she finally said after she’d swallowed. “Alright.” The last was said with a heavy sigh; she knew when Elias was at the breaking point, and she had no desire to drive him past it over something which hopefully would never come to pass. She leaned forward, brushing a kiss across his cheek, and bit her lip as she brought her arms to rest on his shoulders, her muscles protesting sharply. His hands drifted to her hips, and he buried his nose in her hair. “Smells awful, I’d bet,” she said softly.
“Smells good,” he mumbled.
“You’re biased.”
“I’m madly in love with ye.”
“And so you are.” She placed another kiss against his cheek, then moved to rest her forehead against his.
They remained like that-her hands stroking his hair as she rested against him, his hands resting at her hips as he closed his eyes and relaxed-until the room was nearly dark.
~ - ~
The pills Rose gave to her did not make her sick, and Elias appeared from running the errands the next day with a bottle full of them. At her request he’d gone into work to collect files for her to work on; he had also, apparently, been given several cards to pass along, many of them from colleagues and one or two from upstairs. She laughed at the one from Cunningham, passing it to Elias without comment; he read the scrawled “Get well soon. Someone has to keep McCoy in line, and you’re the only one to do it!”, then shook his head.
Flowers began to appear the day after-the first day she felt truly able to be up and move around on her own for a prolonged period of time. There was a gorgeous, gigantic arrangement from the Tylers, a smaller, more restrained one from some of her oldest friends at the Met, and a lovely basket of heather from Peter and Rose. Her parents had also arranged for a cheery bouquet, and she smiled at the typed message. “They say to make sure you coddle me,” she read to Elias as he cooked, handing the card over to him when he looked up.
He glanced at it, shaking his head as he laughed, then handed it back to her. “They must think I spoil you terribly.”
“You do spoil me terribly.” She reached for the bottle of wine Elias had opened, and topped off his glass. “They approve.”
“Good.” He lifted the glass, the dark red liquid moving gently, then offered it to her. “A sip?”
“Don’t think so. Rose’s tea has helped, but I don’t want to drink anything to keep me from taking the heavier stuff, just in case.”
“Do your ribs still pain you that much, Rue?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.
“They don’t. I…just don’t want to tempt fate.”
He nodded, then took a large sip. He watched her for a moment longer before returning his attention to the sauce before him on the hob.
They sat next to each other again at the table, the flora she’d received lining the far side of it. Elias still insisted on cutting her food for her, in spite of her protestations that she could do it; and then he insisted on feeding her, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he brought the fork to her lips.
“What’ve you got up your sleeve?” she finally asked, laughing, the pain still strong, but more bearable now for its familiarity.
“I’m making sure my wife is well-fed. And then I plan to seduce her.”
“You’re always seducing your wife.”
“I’m such a rogue.” He fed her another bite, then took one for himself.
“And how are you planning to seduce her, Mister McCoy?” she asked as he finished chewing.
His mouth quirked in the way she loved, and she felt an answering smile form.
“I was thinking, Miss Quarles, that I might draw her a bath.”
“But if she has bruised ribs, that might hurt.”
“Aye, it might.” He fed her another forkful. “But not if I take care to pad the bath with towels.”
“So long as you’re the one doing the laundry,” she muttered, earning a laugh.
“If my wife so desires.” He took a bite from the almost-empty plate. “The important thing is that I’ll wash her hair for her.”
“I didn’t think she was allowed to have her hair washed.”
“Ah, but she doesn’t know that, as she napped this morning, a bit of detecting by her clever husband turned up a loophole.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Her hair will be washed. Mostly.”
“Lucky woman.”
“Lucky husband.”
“And then?” She reached over, swiping up some of the sauce with her finger, making sure he was watching before she put it into her mouth and slowly drew it out.
“After the bath?” He watched, distracted, as she repeated the action.
“After the bath. You’re both naked, and warm, and not a little damp. Then what?”
“Then I plan to take her to bed.”
“That’s rather a flowery way of saying you plan to shag her.”
“It’s not a euphemism. I plan to take her to bed, and tell her how very much I love her.”
“Does she not know?”
They were completely ignoring the few bites of food left on the plate, concentrating on each other fully. She loved it when he was like this: open with her, in the way she’d come to first love so many years before. It had so much more impact when they could see each other, rather than listening to one another over a tinny radio.
“I suspect she does not.”
“What will you tell her?”
“Ah, that is between my wife and I.” There was another mischievous smile, and he turned back to the plate.
“And then?”
“And then what?” He assembled a forkful of food, and offered it to her. She took it, holding his gaze as he pulled the fork from her mouth.
“After you’ve told her?”
“Then, Miss Quarles,” he leaned forward, mere inches from her, “I plan to make love to her until she cries for mercy.”
“In spite of her ribs?”
“I’ve done a bit of research on that.” His slow grin was lethal, and she was sorely tempted to lean forward and kiss him. He saw it, his grin widening, and he straightened. “But as that’s all between my wife and I, I’ll say no more.”
“Terrible man.”
“Mmm, so she tells me.” He laughed, and cleaned the plate.
He was true to his word, running a lovely bath for them, helping her in to it before pulling her to rest against his chest. He took great care in washing her hair, avoiding the area that had been sutured, his fingertips gentle as he tried to avoid any bruises. It felt utterly divine to have mostly-clean hair again, and she happily leaned against his chest once he was done.
“How’re ye doing?” he murmured against her ear, his hands twined with hers and resting on her stomach.
“Best I’ve been in days.”
“The ribs?”
“The stretching has helped.” It had been one of Elias’s co-workers to suggest it, simply stretching a little bit each day as she felt up to it. It did help, and had meant she’d not relied quite so heavily on the paracetamol.
But then, she’d always been told she had a ludicrously high pain threshold.
He wrapped her in a robe before tying a towel around his hips, and then he led her into their bedroom, a hair brush in hand. She smiled up at him as she sat; he brushed a kiss over her nose, then kneeled on the bed behind her, gently brushing her hair.
“This is terribly relaxing,” she murmured, the knots now removed and Elias simply running the brush through her hair.
“Good.” He leaned down, whispering, “I’m trying to weaken your defences.”
“As though I’d fight you,” she replied, laughing lightly.
“I hope not.”
“No, I don’t see that ever happening.” She grinned.
He finally set the brush aside, and began to trail kisses along the curve of her neck. She sighed, each press of his lips sending tiny shocks through her.
“I thought you were going to tell your wife how much you loved her,” she murmured, torn between him continuing what he was doing, and moving forward.
“I’d planned to, but I suspect she already knows.” His lips moved to the corner of her jaw. “So I plan to show her instead.”
Show her he did, taking care that she’d not be uncomfortable as he made love to her. As promised, he drove her to shout his name as she climaxed, his body moving above hers, the pain from her ribs temporarily erased by the endorphins flooding her system. He then continued to rock against her, his hips rotating more with each stroke, his eyes locked on hers as he silently drove himself on.
She finally reached for him, the fingertips of her left hand just able to brush his growing beard as he began to move faster. It was beginning to hurt, the way he was making her torso bend, but he looked so intent-even more so than he normally did.
“I’m not leaving you, Eli. Ever,” she finally whispered.
It had been what he needed to hear, and he came a few strokes later, her name on his lips. He leaned forward, kissing her gently, his tongue stroking deeply against hers, his hand buried in her hair on the side without stitches.
“Don’t leave me, don’t,” he finally whispered, kissing her once more.
“Never.” She pulled back, making sure he looked at her before she repeated, “Never ever.”
His eyes searched hers, then he leaned forward for a breath-stealing kiss.
She fell asleep still wrapped in his arms, and got the first solid night’s sleep since her accident.
~ fin ~