CONTAINS CONTENT:
Mild language, a scene of sensuality (stops before actual sex), talk of abuse of a minor.
{{Unedited}}
Marielle stood in the middle of the bedroom; her hands clasped nervously to her chest. The fingers on her right hand were wrapped around a single pearl that hung around her neck. Vincent had only given it to her a few days before. However, this was the first time that she’d ever used it.
Vincent approached her from behind and placed his hands tenderly on her forearms, giving her a hard, but not bruising squeeze. He leaned down and brushed the tip of his nose against her temple, letting his hot breath fan across her face and cheek. “I want you to listen to me,” he whispered. She nodded, stiff despite her chest rolling in waves expectantly. He pulled her back against him gently; enveloping her. “I understand how much you want me right now…I’ve wanted you since the night we met, but I’m pretty sure that you can tell,” he chuckled, noting his own excitement. His lips pressed against her temple in a tender kiss. “I will marry you, Marielle, I promise you that. This is not me using you. I’ve wanted to marry you since moment one… but I understand what you just came from and how much it’s affecting you even if you say that it’s not. So, I want to be clear,-” he explained and at this, he bent, took her legs out from under her and walked her slowly to his bed, where he lay her out and gazed down at her. She looked like a child; innocent, nervous, waiting for what he’d do. “I want you to teach me how to please you. I want you to understand how much I need to protect you from him.” He refused to say Austin’s name. “From yourself, and from me, if need be,” he explained. She nodded, slowly, her breaths jerky and tense.
He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers, but refusing to kiss her or lay his body against her. “Stay silent,” he breathed against her mouth. She nodded her compliance. “I want you to feel this,” he purred pressing into her a little. Her eyes fluttered and rolled back into her head as she leaned back. “I want all of you,” he whispered, and he bent, planting gentle kisses around her collarbone. “I can’t imagine what this is like for you, you can’t hear my thoughts. So, I’ll tell you,” he explained, understanding the shift that she’d made in the last few months and how difficult that must be for her; how she had to trust everything that he said instead of hearing it and knowing what was truth and what wasn’t. “Which is one of the reasons that I want you to be silent,” he added. “I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my entire life, Marielle, or someone.” Kiss. “No one has ever stopped my heart the way that you did that night at the fountain.” He looked to her left shoulder. “I’m going to take your clothes off, is that okay?” She nodded, shaking. “Marielle, you must let me know if I’m hurting you. I want you to hear me, but if I’m doing something that will cause you fear, pain, or discomfort, please tell me…” He met eyes with he; his gaze sturdy and focused. “These hands will never hurt you… unless you want them too,” he rasped, knowing some of her proclivities. They’d already discussed them the night before. She groaned as he said this, and arched a little. He nearly collapsed onto her when he felt her respond that way, but kept in control, going to her mouth, and taking it for his. First, tenderly, then hungrily, going all in. He nipped at her bottom lip, then met her tongue with his. She responded by pulling her hands through his hair and letting out a pleased moan which echoed in his mouth, ran down the back of his throat and into his soul.
A low, guttural groan rumbled from inside of him, and he laid fully on her, peeling the strap of her dress down her arm and going to her shoulder where he squeezed and kissed. “Can I touch you?” he growled. She nodded. His hand moved to her breast, gently squeezing. “Marielle,” he begged, losing himself. “Oh, Masin.”
“Vincent…” She bit out between gritted teeth.
He was moving against her, trying to draw out the desperation and need as he continued gentle, and then rougher ministrations. “You are heaven, my darling.”
“No!” She cried out, and pushed him back, skittering out from under him and away; a look of terror had replaced a look of pleasure as she drew her knees up to her chest against the wall.
For a moment he stood back in stunned silence, then he understood and rolled his eyes at himself. How could he have been so careless?
“Not darling… not darling, ever…” She breathed in jerky, terrified gasps. Then she found her courage again, going back to him at the end of the bed; at first inching, then falling to her palms and crawling as she became braver. He smirked at her; it was so sexy and the look in her eyes told him that she’d meant it to be that way. “Not darling,” she repeated in a whisper as she put her arms up around his neck, drawing herself back against him. He held her still for a moment, waiting for her to tell him what to do. “Love. Only love. Never call me darling, only ever call me love.”
He smiled at her, and gave her a tender peck. “Love…” He purred with a grin.
She gently removed his glasses, for a moment putting them on her own face. “C-can you see?” she asked shakily.
The corner of his mouth lifted at how cute she was. “I can see,” he assured. “May I continue, love?”
She nodded. “P-please be gentle.”
“I’m daring, not cruel,” he breathed against her lips and he took Marielle for the first time… his love…his wife.
***
Vincent looked down and twisted the wedding ring around his finger a few times as he reflected.
He’d never called her darling again; he guessed that was Austin’s job now, and his chest opened with the kind of ache that called for little more than being knocked out by drink or pills, or death.
It was Thanksgiving.
Chamber shuffled out onto the balcony to hand him a glass of whiskey and tell him Happy Thanksgiving. His tone was ironic and distant, though.
The French had never really celebrated Thanksgiving, which was one of the reasons that Vincent decided to go with Chamber to Dubai in the first place. Now, as he sat with the glass of amber fluid in his right hand, his eyes on the gold ring on his left, he realized just how much he’d probably screwed up, here.
Marielle wanted him there for the holiday, didn’t she? She was independent, and because she was, she wouldn’t tell him to stay, or force him too. But it had been what she’d secretly wanted, wasn’t it?
He sipped his drink and checked his watch. “Two hours,” he noted.
Chamber nodded, setting his glass aside. “Oui.”
“I’ll take the shot,” Vincent said flatly, feeling his chest deflate.
“Marielle will have a difficult time with this.”
Vincent shrugged. “She already does.” He finished the whiskey, hissing through the fluid as it passed his teeth. “But, it’ll be the last time.”
They’d come to kill a grossly rich oil tycoon. Not because he was gross, or rich, but because he was a parasite with a rap sheet a mile long and ties to human trafficking. Khaled Al Zaheri wouldn’t be missed by anyone, but Vincent still paused for thought on the actual killing. This would be his last kill of this kind, and for some reason that idea was sticking to his insides like something bad that he ate that wouldn’t digest properly and he wasn’t sure why.
He wanted to say that it had something to do with the fact that he no longer wanted to kill. Sure, the French government had hired Chamber to do these things the same way that they’d hired Vincent in his own dimension… Sure, he’d make another hundred thousand dollars from this kill, but he didn’t want to do it. Or did he? Was the problem that he didn’t want to give up this life at all?
He cleared his throat. “Thank you for the- for saying that you’d help with the situation with Marielle,” Vincent said mostly under his breath. “Your grounding to this dimension and DNA will be sure to work, and she can,-” he bit back tears. “-she can have the baby that she wants so badly.”
“Don’t,” Chamber said waving a dismissive hand in his direction. “You don’t need to thank me. I already told you, I will help you to get Marielle pregnant, it’s no issue,” he paused, screwed his eyes up and laughed. “That came out wrong, I think.” Both chuckled. “Yes, I’ll help, and I’ll continue to help in any way that I can.” Chamber lightly cleared his throat and looked off toward the mountains putting his crystal to his lips and taking a small sip. “Vincent, there are things that I know simply because I traveled and tried to save her.”
“You have secrets from me,” Vincent realized.
“Oui.” He kept his eyes on the horizon. “I learned much,” he said, sagely.
“You love her,” Vincent realized. He knew this, but somehow it was flashing in his mind in a different way.
“I do.” He didn’t look back at Vincent, he was watching a bird as it slowly flew by. “Letting her go wa-…” he looked distantly, unable to get out the rest. “She’s safe with us – Chamber, I mean – somewhere, but… I wonder at times, and I’m not ungrateful – what do I get?” He flashed Vincent a slightly jealous expression. “I love her, too. This is my world after all and you’re in it.”
Vincent sighed heavily and looked down into his empty glass. “Then I have o-one more favor to ask of you…”
Chamber turned to him in interest. “Ask me, brother. What is it?”
***
Marielle was full, patting her stomach from all the delicious food that now twirled around in there, digesting. There had been turkey, potatoes, and homemade cornbread stuffing. She’d made a few of the dishes as well and everyone loved her cooking. She feigned indifference when there was mention of pecan pie later, but secretly she really wanted some.
-Me too. I’ll grow a second stomach for that. Austin had said with a wink, his eyes alight with adoration as he watched her over the brim of his cider.
She giggled and they briefly leaned in toward one another as if they might kiss, but stopped themselves short.
Rick however, was watching as both pulled back, trying to paint the we’re just friends picture. It wasn’t working too well; Rick chortled and took Austin to the couches where they put on some football for a while.
Marielle went and sat near Austin and he bristled, wanting so badly to take her hand in his. -Can I hold your hand?
Her heart beat sped up. -I’d rather you not.
-Can I touch your hand?
-Let’s not do that, either. She chuckled silently, but feeling the twisting inside screaming that she wanted him to.
-Can I do this? He lifted his finger a little and drew a pretend line down the outside of her left pinky finger. She stiffened, feeling her skin tingle. How… how was he doing this? She closed her eyes, letting out a ragged breath…how was him not touching her more intense than him actually doing it? She felt like her skin might come off and she’d float away with how high she was getting. Her skin was becoming hot as if the flames in the fireplace were gently licking her.
His left arm grabbed a throw pillow and he held it against his stomach as his breath caught in his chest…yep, he felt this too. He was trying to hide.
-Going to write a poem about this?
-I am… he purred. She flashed him a side glance, raising an expectant brow. He lightly cleared his throat, although he wasn’t about to speak audibly.
-I am ice
and it’s too much
But, your skin is fire
to the touch
I’m wrapped around you
because you are warm.
I am your anchor,
and you are the storm.
Heavy chains
and I’m your slave
clung together
we ride these waves.
we are the tenth
eternal fire.
We are bliss
and we are ire.
You are passion
and vitality-
My relief
and my pure agony.
Now both of their temples were nearly touching. “Stop it,” she breathed.
He grinned, wildly, leaning a touch closer so that his breath fanned across her cheek. -Make…me. He said slowly, huskily.
She couldn’t quell the smile bursting across her lips. They both knew the reference. -I don’t have any ice.
His grin widened as he breathed a little chilled air onto her neck, his eyes glowing. –I do. They were silent for a moment. -You told him that you loved him. He said bringing their thoughts back to White Austin.
-It was what he needed to hear.
-Was it? Or do you just really love me?
Tiffany walked in, breaking up their heated moment with a smile as she handed them both mugs of hot chocolate. Then she went to sit with Rick, who put an arm around her and they engaged in their own private cuddle session.
Then she remembered something that other Austin had said, “Abyss,” she whispered, flicking her gaze to Austin.
He nodded, “I already called Chamber. There’s nothing he can do for a few hours, but when they’re back from Dubai, they’ll head in that direction. Klara said there’s nothing yet, so the others must be waiting, or looking. Who knows.”
“Who do they think will go? Not Vincent.”
“Chamber, Sabine, John, Amir, and Han have signed up. I heard that Kiritani is considering it as well. Something about looking for a specific metal?” He shook his head as if he didn’t understand. “Anyways… It’s just going to have to wait a few days.”
Marielle nodded, there wasn’t much else they could do at the moment and from their location.
They watched the game for a while as Austin and Marielle sipped sweet, creamy hot cocoa and inwardly dreamt that every night was like this. For a moment, life felt right to both.
Later, Marielle stirred and lifted her head. Patches the cat was licking himself at the end of the bed and Austin was softly snoring in his chair, turned away from her.
Smiling, she stood and went to the bathroom, came back, and eyed him for a moment. He was so ridiculously handsome, even in sleep, even with a little drool seeping out of the corner of his mouth; it made him endearing. Austin Rancor could be a little less than perfect and still be beautiful. They’d have gorgeous children. She shook her head; she shouldn’t be thinking those thoughts right now. Or maybe she should… what would he be like as a father? He was warm, and playful, and patient with her. He was helpful in guiding her through trauma and despair, probably because he’d been through some himself.
He sucked air in through his teeth. -Hello, darling, something I can do for you? He was half awake.
“Do you think you’ll be a good father?” she whispered sitting on his bed.
He thought for a moment, drawing his eyebrows together. “I’ll tell you everything that I know about being a parent,-” he explained, glancing back at her over his left shoulder at her, “-how not to be one.” He left that hanging in the air and she thought on it. Her eyes fell on the mattress in thought. “I think everything else is just guess work after that, you know? You have to learn to understand your child just as they have to learn to understand you. Is that going to be filled with trials, errors, mistakes? Of course. I think love and making sure that they know that you love them is the most important thing for them… Am I going to be a good parent? I have no idea.” He shrugged a shoulder, then turned to her. “But I want to try.”
“Vincent can’t give me children,” she blurted, and when she said it part of her wanted to draw it back into her mouth and pretend that she’d never said it.
He sat up straight and looked her over, his eyes wide in the darkness. “What?”
“He…we can’t have children,” she was biting back tears, but they came anyways and she was wiping them away with her sleeve.
-Do you need me to hold you?
-Stay there. She let out a ragged breath. “One of my biggest desires in the world is to be a mother. I’ve always wanted it. But-” she trailed off.
Austin closed his eyes, trying to keep his mouth shut, too. She didn’t need to be berated or asked why she was still with Vincent, she needed comfort. “I’m so sorry, Marielle.”
She shrugged. “Chamber might help.”
“That’s weird,” he said without thinking. Then he sighed.
She put her face into the pillow. “I know,” she whispered.
He let out a heavy sigh. “Marielle, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that… if it’s what you have to do.”
“I don’t want to do it. Maybe…maybe we’ll adopt?” she said distantly. He knew that this wasn’t what she wanted either.
“I want to be a father,” he reminded, his icy eyes glittering in the dark.
She knew this, and part of her wished that he wouldn’t push this right now. The other part understood why he was doing it. “I know.”
“And I know that you understand that it’s implied… but I want you to be the mother of our children.”
She fell silent. She had hoped that when she came back from the bathroom, she could sneak into his journal again and read more. But she’d woken him up with her loud thoughts and concerns. “I’m always going to be waking you up with my anxieties, you know?”
“I’ll always be there to hold you.” He sat up a little straighter, “I mean that, Marielle. Do you know why?”
She cocked her head at him and slowly shook it. “Because they’re mine, too,” he explained and something in her stirred. She realized that he could feel a lot of what she did, often so he could understand how deeply she was afraid, or in need.
“Austin?” She breathed.
-What is it, darling?
She was twisting her hands together, nervous energy radiating off her. “I’m sorry for doing this to you.” She met eyes with him. “I didn’t know.”
“How could you have known? You’d never done it before. You don’t need to apologize to me, Marielle. I’m content with being your mind partner.”
She chuckled. “Is that what this is? Mind partners?”
He shrugged. “What do I know?” he asked dismissively. “Besides, I asked you to do it. Remember?”
She remembered. She remembered that night which seemed so long ago at his house, how nervous she’d been to be there with him and how when he asked her to try to move through him she went to hold him, not thinking that it would work so what difference did it make. Why him? The answer was so simple that it was almost laughable… she loved him. But why him? Why? She’d never understand.
He smiled at her train of thought, knowingly. “Lay back down,” he said gently. Then he got up and went to the shelf, knowing what she really wanted. He cracked the journal open and thumbed through the pages for a moment. Then he paused, and smiled softly as his eyes skimmed the page. Then his smile became sad to the point that his eyes welled. “Today I left you… Laying in my bed. You don’t know it because you weren’t awake but you were crying in your sleep.” He paused, his eyes glittering at the memory. “You don’t want this to end, and neither do I. So, I’ll remind you of what you said you wanted and leave your contract on my pillow for you to find. I can’t stop crying and I hate it. I want to stop and write you a note for every place that I know you’ll be or touch before you leave. – I made you coffee, darling, here… I hope the water’s warm enough, there… This pillow will stop smelling like you… I can’t stop crying,-” he was crying now and for a moment he stopped and pushed the tears off of his face with both hands. “-I miss you already and every moment feels like…” he couldn’t continue, and looking up, he took in a shaky breath and tried his best to stop the tears. “I’m dying,” he croaked without looking back at the page. He turned, both surprised, and relieved to find her hand lacing with his. “Every moment feels like I’m dying,” he said into her eyes. “You don’t know it, but you were crying out for me. I kissed your cheek, and told you I’d see you at work… and you whispered my name and begged me to stay,” he barely got out; it almost wasn’t words. They stared at one another for a few moments, crying long, wet tears. Her eyes were pure emeralds in the dark room lit by the round moon outside. Austin’s were pools. “I miss you,” he whispered finally and instinctively, both reached up and tenderly wiped one another’s tears away. “Every damn morning and every long, lonely night.” They were silent for a moment as they stared at one another, both longing for a kiss that would melt into so much more before Austin’s tongue flicked out, licking his dry lips and he pat the mattress. “Lay back down, darling. You need rest.”
It was cold and dry and he was noticing just how dry her own lips were as the desire to moisten them with his own began to take over. -I can’t kiss you like that, Austin. She reminded. He’d barely moved, but he stopped himself anyway, taking hold of the blanket and putting it up over her before he went back to his chair and pulled his own blanket on over himself.
She blinked at the ceiling a few times. “I’m sorry for asking this…” she began. He exhaled, and prepared knowing in part what was coming. “Your mother, did she-…” the words wouldn’t form.
“Did she invite others in to play with me?” he asked and there was a quiver in his words even though he’d said them as dismissively as possible.
She nodded slowly, fearing the answer.
“Yeah.”
Tearfully, both fell back asleep.