| Subject: Chatper 288 - Part 2 (18 and above) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, April 30, 11:10:58am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark continued (273>)" on Monday, March 05, 07:03:06am
He knew she understood his feelings, their love shared so strongly simply in that embrace. Still, there was little time, their company outside only patient for so long. He pulled her back from him a little, gazing into her eyes--one hand to her soft cheek, trying to make himself focus; he didn't even notice the makeup, too happy to be close. His smile was gentle. "We did promise them you would be changing, Nikita."
She had been utterly lost in the embrace, in the warmth and desire there; it took her a moment to understand--a sadness hidden by her smile, once she did. While she knew that he still cared for her, there *were* still appearances to be kept up; she turned away, starting to undo the buttons on her dress, resigning herself. She couldn't really expect that he would want her enough to take her right here; the smile grew broader, as she began to undress. But it would be nice, if he did.
There had been months of separation between them, so much time for misunderstanding--the situation made all the worse by Nikita's many fears over her growing body; she sighed, her gaze now on the floor, all of these anxieties swamping her again. When he had left, there had been little outer evidence of his child growing within her, her body still, generally, that of the ingénue he had first known. To this day, she was convinced that this was what he wanted--Petrosian's many accusations that she was a "fat cow" doing their subtle damage. But this just went to show that she had no idea what her husband was thinking at all.
He proved this a second later, made her gasp, as his body pressed up to hers from behind, his hands covering her own, as she disrobed; he enjoyed the reaction, but it wasn't quite enough. At first, when she had turned away, he had had the fleeting thought that she didn't want him, that she had changed her mind about everything--that she no longer even wanted his eyes on her precious form. But then he had remembered the foolish fears of her letters--and everything had changed for good.
She didn't know this, wasn't certain what to think yet, her head swimming with just the scent of him. His breathing was thready and uncertain, nearly sounded angry--an accurate reflection of his mood; the shiver of it was hot in her ear. "I've waited three long months to see you again, 'Kita." He helped push the dress off her shoulders, leaving it crumpled on the floor; Angie wouldn't like it, when it was found, but neither of them even thought of this, just now. "I want to see all of you." When his lips descended lightly along the side of her neck, she let out a gasp, lost to him, wanting so much more; her eyes opened suddenly. But still . . .
He could nearly feel her fears, an inner rage--the very one he had predicted in all those letters--starting at her doubt; he didn't let her questions go on for another second. The only reason he hadn't undressed her immediately had been because he hadn't wanted to push her, didn't want to be the sort of husband who came home and made immediate demands of his wife, regardless of her wishes. But he had no fears of this now--the sweet sounds she gave when he touched her, the constant look of love and need in her eyes, as she stared back over her shoulder at him, the scent of her desire, all overwhelming him. He had to clamp down on the rage for her just enough to be certain he didn't hurt her, spinning her toward him at last. But then that fury was let go in ways his wife would never forget.
She discovered this a second later, found herself being expertly disrobed. It was all a bit too much of a whirlwind to keep track of, even the dreaded corset that held in her pregnancy--made a bit less terrifying by a kind Rene--soon left in utter disarray on the floor. "Michael, you'll . . ." she began, fearing that he would regret seeing all of her--but had to stop at the fire in his eyes. She almost let out a cry, a wild tug of need pulling deep inside her--realizing what she had somehow done. In all those letters, he had threatened her with hours of passionate retribution for doubting herself; her whole body shook, as the last garment was discarded on the floor, her husband maneuvering her skillfully out of it to stand utterly revealed before him. Now, she might finally get to see just what sort of "punishment" he had been threatening her with all along.
She couldn't help watching his eyes, captured by them, even as they stroked along her entire, highly-altered, body. But there was no fear anymore. The look she saw held many things--naked, almost ruthless, desire; absolute, soul-wrenching love; thorough devotion; the fear and pain of upcoming parting. But none of it was a second of anything but utter approval.
It was difficult for her to believe this, her own self-perceptions so very different. Still, in his eyes, as they returned to her own, she saw that she was beautiful; she felt the tears threatening strongly, had to blink them back--her hand on his face, heart thumping. How she had ever survived for a second without him was an utter mystery to her now.
God, yes. He was lost in much the same thought, couldn't imagine how he could have let her get to this wonderful stage without savoring every one in between. She was, of course--at least to his mind--entirely wrong about her body; it was almost more beautiful than he could stand. She wasn't as large as she would probably become, but she was much altered, his child within her evident now--making him realize for the first time that this sweet change was real. Before, little Adrian had always been a sort of fantasy; he had often felt as though he were playacting with his wife, when they talked about the child. But now, . . .
Oh, God, he was lost, had no concepts to express his love at all. Now, the dream was real; both hands cupped her face, drawing her into a deep, adoring kiss. But, as splendid at this was, he didn't want to think about the fact that the baby would now always have to take a real place in his considerations of the future.
It wasn't that any of Michael's opinions or plans had changed, his concern for his wife always winning out over any others. But, for the first time, he began to believe that the three of them *could* have a future together; the kiss deepened, becoming far more intense. And that thought was almost as terrifying as it was beautiful.
The fears which plagued him were put aside for now, however--the machinations of so many far less important than this lovely reunion with his wife. And none of these thoughts even addressed how gorgeous she was, how much he wanted her. He held her close, her sweet body smooth and inviting beneath his hands, yielding to him as it always had--as had always driven him crazy for more; he felt the whole length of him pounding, desperate--his mind fogged in his need. If he had thought that he wanted her in the days before their parting, he had been wrong. Seeing her in all her expectant glory put every other desire of his life to shame.
Oh, Lord, yes. She wanted this, could feel all his need, his love--was desperate to be the object of every second of it. Although his passion had changed from a raging need to teach to an absolute, fervent devotion, she wasn't at all disappointed; the kiss intoxicated her, making her head swim--something deep within her begging for more. Just to be naked against him, dressed though he was, made her feel both vulnerable and trusting; her hand ran along the back of his neck, holding him to the kiss. All she really knew was that she would always want more.
Of course, they were not truly alone just now--and not only because their child was ever-present. Outside that room, so many people waited for them to emerge--watching their every step. Before Michael could even go home tonight, he had two more interviews to do, he and Nikita having a brief photo shoot, as well. Everyone clamored for them. But, for this moment at least, they were only each other's.
They knew this happiness couldn't last forever, knew that, whatever was about to happen between them, it couldn't be prolonged; the fact saddened them both--but neither was really complaining. It had just been too long, too many months without each other. Even 20 minutes in each other's arms seemed a lifetime now.
Neither was thinking of stopping this, then, neither of them capable--both far too in need; Michael, especially, was nearly grateful for their current limitations. After three, endless months without her, he was left utterly uncertain of his stamina. He might have chosen to be celibate once or twice before, when he was either too mournful or guilty to feel much desire--or when there was simply no woman around who much enticed him--but he had never before been so long held back from the sole object of his desire. Even when he had first met his beloved wife, he hadn't waited that long, before they finally joined. Only a little over a month after he had met her, they had been lovers; he groaned, breaking from her wonderful lips, beginning to kiss his way down her beautiful form. The frustration of an entire three months apart was nearly enough to kill him now.
This was the way he remembered their relationship, at least--the truth a little meaningless now. All those months they had suffered, wanting each other but unable to be together, as they had waited for their official marriage date to arrive--afraid of the consequences of being caught before then--were long forgotten. Besides, then, they had still been together, had been able to touch, to spend time alone. But for the first quarter of 1940, they had had only letters to keep them together; she groaned deeply, as she felt his lips descending further--driving both of them mad. There was no way that they could not be slightly crazy now.
Nikita was leaning back against the wall, this truth ruling her--her whole body shivering, as she ached for the feeling of him inside her. But even his warm breath over the aching center of her need was far too much; she pulled him back up to her quickly, breath shaky, as she stared determinedly into his eyes. "No." One hand began unbuttoning his shirt, aching for more. "I need all of you now."
It wasn't a concern about time which had caused her furious need--and that truth just made the situation all the better for him. True, he wanted to please her at length, wanted to let her know that he had missed her for many thousand more reasons than the simple heated release her body gave--wanted her to remember that there would never be another lover for her again. But for so many reasons, this was for the best; his hands joined hers, hurrying the unveiling, as he smiled into her heated gaze. "God, I've missed you," he groaned. They had just been apart for far too long.
She grinned at him, agreeing entirely--not wanting to wait for a second. And she was just moaning, as she found his flesh again, the taut, smooth skin of his chest a revelation she had long missed. The sound turned into a groan, her gaze now solely on her work, as she realized that he was perhaps even more fit than he had been before; her gaze moved back to his, adoring. But his perfection almost worried her, couldn't help but make her compare. She suddenly wasn't certain whether she were worthy of him or not.
It was just the many differences in their changes--her own body softer and larger, his, trimmer and more defined--which made her anxieties grow. But the sound of his growl made her eyes widen in desire, his need for her so evident; she let out a sweet, soft moan, giving in completely--having waited for months for this "punishment" he had promised. She bit her bottom lip, so very ready. There would never be anyone as beautiful as him again.
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