Title: What Dreams May Come

Author: Scully MacKenzie

Spoilers: Hope you saw TMR!

Summary: Alex and Rick have trouble dealing with Evie's death, and

she must comfort them, in different ways.

Rating: NC-17, no question

Okay, here's my deal, this is my first Mummy fanfiction, and my first

smut fic, so please be gentle. :) i'm begging you! i love feedback

though, so bring it on. hope you all like it!

 

 

 

 

 

Rick O'Connell stood quietly on the balcony outside the room

he shared with his wife, he stared out to the gardens beneath with

only slight interest. His mind was in other places, namely Ahm Shere,

just outside it's golden pyramid. Though his dressing gown

protected him from the cold, he shivered slightly as he saw the knife's blade slide easily into Evie. He saw her blood on her hands again. And as the breeze blew past, he could swear he heard it whisper, `Take care of Alex… I love you.' It happened every time he let himself stand still, that scene played in his mind ever since he got back to Cairo.

 

He hadn't left it in Egypt as he had hoped, even prayed it would.

 

"Alex is in bed," he heard behind him, and turned to see

Evie standing behind him. He sucked in his breath and just looked for a moment. Like him, she wore her dressing gown, a white silky thing,

definitely not warm, and underneath, a baby blue slip. She looked

beautiful.

 

He shook his head slightly, and cleared his throat, "How is

he doing?"

 

Evelyn sighed and walked to stand next to him, "He's understandably tired, so he fell asleep while I was telling him his story, but I won't be surprised if we're woken up tonight by a little boy needing comforting." She looked up at him, "I'm almost afraid to go to sleep tonight myself. The nightmares from this one are going to be horrific."

 

Rick nodded thoughtfully, then gathered her into a hug, "We'll get through these like we got through the ones from Hamunaptra, I'll be with you the whole way."

 

She nodded her head against his chest, "I know you will."

 

In a bout of playfulness, he picked Evie up in his arms and carried her to their bed and placed her on her side, then gave her a soft kiss, "I'm going to go lock up and check on Alex really quick."

 

She nodded, smiling softly and settled in, glad to be in her own bed.

 

When he got back to the room, she was fast asleep. He looked down on

her sleeping form and smiled, she deserved the rest. Rick knew however, that this would be another sleepless night. He rarely told

Evelyn about these nights, when his mind and body were too wired or

worried to sleep, the last thing she needed was to worry about his

sleeping habits. So, he took his robe off, hanging it on it's hook,

and climbed into bed behind his wife, careful not to wake her.

 

Apparently it wasn't careful enough, because she whispered, "Hold me Rick," as soon as he laid down. Quietly, he spooned up behind her and fell into a shallow sleep.

 

He woke an hour later to the sounds of Jonathan coming home from yet another night on the town. Groaning inwardly, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He had hoped to get a little more sleep before it al began. His wife was still sleeping soundly, so, he tiptoed to Alex's room to make sure he hadn't started dreaming yet. While it didn't look like he was dreaming, he did look cold, so Rick pulled his son's blankets over him better and placed his teddy bear back on the bed beside him from where it had fallen. After kissing him softly on the forehead, he went back to his room, retrieved his robe, and walked back out onto the balcony. Stars winked down on him from above, and he just stared into the expanse. Whatever was up there, if there was anyone watching him from the heavens, he owed a debt of gratitude, and told Him so.

 

Minutes passed and gave way to hours as he stood there dwelling on the past two weeks. He didn't even notice Evie wake up and come up behind him until she spoke, "I'm fine Rick."

 

He jumped and turned around to face her, "How long have you been there?"

 

She smiled a sleepy smile and took a step closer, "Long enough to know that you have been out here a very long time. I'm fine Rick," she repeated.

 

He forced a sheepish grin and shrugged, she always read him like a book. His little boy grin gave way to the face of a man with too many worries, "I know that, Evie, in my head I know that I see you standing there." He rubbed his eyes forcefully, as if trying to

erase what they were seeing, then gave an aggravated groan, "but I

keep seeing you die in front of me. I keep seeing that bitch drive

her knife into your perfect skin. I see you fall there on the sand,

and I hear you say you love me for the last time." He clamped his

hands over his ears, trying to will the sounds away, but they won't.

 

Evelyn watched in shock as he continued pressing on his ears,

then slumped to his knees. Stunned, she realized he was crying.

 

Silently, she got down on her knees in front of him, and gently moved

his hands from his head, cradling his big frame in her lap as he

wept, tears falling from her own eyes for the man that would give

anything for her. Then, slowly she began to repeat the same phrase

over and over again into his ear, "I love you Rick, I love you."

 

Soon, his tears began to recede as he listened to her words. Until he

pulled up and looked at her intently, "Thank you."

 

She smiled and pulled him into a hug, "Oh Rick, How many times have you comforted me when I needed you, even when you needed it yourself? I think you were in need of a good cry." She pulled back and looked him in the eye, "I'm here, sweetheart, right here in front of you, and I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. Believe me, heaven isn't heaven without you there with me. I'd love you, Richard O'Connell, to heaven and back, and that's never going to change." She pulled him into a kiss, and let him deepen it. It was hungry, bordering on desperation that drove him on, and transmitted itself to her.

 

Disappointment showed in her eyes when he pulled away, but she soon understood why. Alex's small figure stood in the doorway to their room. How he did that she'd never know, but he seemed to have a sixth sense about their son. Quickly, he left her side and went to scoop Alex up, "What's up buddy?"

 

The boy sniffled and said, "She was dead again dad, I couldn't read those symbols and she never came back, I couldn't help her."

 

Rick rubbed his hand soothingly up and down his son's back, "I know buddy, it's scary, but mom is right here."

 

Evelyn had moved over to the chair that sat in a corner of their bedroom, and motioned her husband over. He nodded and took the couple steps to her and sat Alex on her lap.

 

Evie smiled at him gratefully, and ran her fingers through Alex's blonde locks, "Shh, Alex, I'm okay, I'm right here. You did a good job."

 

Their son hugged himself closer to Evelyn, burying his face in her hair. Rick saw tears in her eyes when she looked up at him.

 

She continued to rock her son in her lap until she heard the deep

breathing of sleep, then let Rick carry him back into his room, her

following close behind. While he laid Ale back into his bed, she

collected the blankets and tucked them around her sleeping son, then

kissed his forehead. Then, quietly, they padded out of the room and

into their own. Evie sighed heavily and sat unceremoniously on their

bed, "I can't stand it, Rick. The two people I love the most are

grieving, and it seems like I can't do anything to stop it. You are

grieving over me, and I'm right here. I can't fight a memory."

 

Rick kneeled in front of her, putting his hand on her thighs, "You're doing fine, Evie. This is something we have to fight in ourselves. You just need to be there whenever we need the reassurance." He looked up at her and gasped quietly. The moonlight sent streams of white light through their windows and lit her up like an angel. "Do you know, Evelyn, how beautiful you are?"

 

She shook her head in disagreement and started, "Oh Rick, I

really don't think…"

 

"I do," he cut her off, "Sometimes I watch you as you go about your business, and it takes my breath away. Watching you sit here, right now, I can't believe how lucky I am that you chose me to love. I see you walk down the street, watch the heads turn, and feel so possessive of you. But I'd give you up at the drop of a hat if it

would make you happy."

 

Evelyn bit her bottom lip and blinked back her tears, shaking her head, she said, "I'm happy right here, with you and Alex. I need nothing else. I belong to you."

 

With these words, he rushed up and pressed his lips to hers,

she opened to him immediately, their tongues battling each other as

he pushed her down on the bed. Slowly, he began placing open mouthed

kissed along her jaw line to her ear, then down her neck to the

valley between her breasts. His hands pulled her gown up to expose

her lack of underwear, and then her stomach. He stopped his attention

to her chest and hovered over the tiny little scar that resided just

under her belly button. She watched with tenderness as he started to

kiss a circle around it. Shocked, she could feel the wetness of his

tears as they dripped onto her stomach. Finally, he placed a kiss

directly onto the mark. "Did it hurt?" he asked as he raised up to

meet her gaze, knowing the answer already.

 

She nodded, "A lot, but not for long. I started feeling numb. I could only feel my heart slowing down, but I had to tell you to take care of him, I had to let you know that I love you." Evie brushed the locks of hair away from his face, then pulled him down for another brutal kiss. "I want to feel you again. Make love to me," she whispered into his mouth.

 

"Lift your arms," his eyes softened for the moment at her quiet

acquiescence, at her unquestioning trust of him. Once more, she was

giving herself up to him, was allowing him to possess her--was even

asking him to. The hand that held the belt, then, moved up to hold

one of hers for a moment, sharing a tender exchange of soft strokes,

a reminder of their love. Slowly, he pushed the silky gown up over

her head exposing her completely. His eyes never left hers at all.

 

She sighed with the feeling of both of his hands, with the tenderness

that existed in him for her even in his most desperately needy

moments. Once she was entirely revealed, her desire simply couldn't

be held back any longer; she didn't want to wait. His tender touch

was stroking lightly over her outer thigh, the fingertips which a

life working with his hands had roughened, tingling against her soft

flesh. She moaned. Now. Her eyes begged him to begin.

 

With her safety assured, he would make love to her. This was about

their passion. His heart was hammering with desire, his eyes showing

his need and his tenderness to her for one more second, before he

lowered his head to her, capturing her in a loving and intimate kiss.

 

He felt the moan in her throat and shuddered slightly against her.

 

Yes.

 

She let go of his hand and moved her own to the bars of their

headboard, offering him the chance for complete possession--and

sighed as he took it. She felt his hands wrapping the belt around her

wrists--a little more tightly than he had in the past, but not enough

to hurt her; he obviously needed to reassure himself that she was

truly his alone. She had no objections. He moaned slightly against

her, in response to another warm sound from her, and deepened the

kiss. He lost himself in the kiss, then, as he continued to secure

her wrists. He needed her like this now, needed her open to his

desires--needed her to *want* to be. He had to show her all the love

and passion he had for her--the emotions which had only grown *so*

much more intense over the past weeks of hell. He wanted to touch and

adore his sweet angel while she lost herself to him, while she moaned

out for more. This, truly, was the only measure of life he had left.

 

She moaned deeply through the kiss, once she felt herself bound,

slight tears in her eyes.

 

She wanted--needed this more than she could have clearly expressed. The simple fact that her Rick wanted her, could still desire her, made her weak. She could never get over that at all. Still, he was going too slowly; she wanted more. She pulled away from the kiss, therefore, her eyes begging. "Please."

 

His eyes traced an erotic fire down her body, and he shuddered just

slightly from his need. Whenever she gave herself up to him this

much, it made him wild, made him want her more savagely than he could

ever put into words. The very fact that she still, somehow, trusted

him to have complete control over her body made his shaft beat with a

desperate strength. By the time he shared that strength with her, he

wanted her to be screaming in need and desire. He smiled softly, but

the look grew more intense, as he saw again in her prone, ready form

how completely she had given herself up to him. He growled slightly,

the noise a warm breath in the back of his throat, as his gaze grew

hotter, far more primal. He was going to show her just how much he

needed her with him--was going to show her now. His eyes were alight

with his knowledge of her needs, then; by the time they reached her

own once more. His smile was wild, made promises of things he was

half-afraid would frighten her. Still, he wasn't willing to hold back

anymore, and it was obvious--from her words, from her desperate

little moans and gasps, from the wide-eyed look of need in her eyes--

that she wasn't either. His smile grew more feral. Good. She watched

him, then, as he prowled further onto the bed, straddling across her

willing form; she moaned loudly, her head tilting back submissively,

and his hands began to lightly stroke over her sides. A whimper

echoed from her. She didn't want any more delays. "Please," she

begged again.

 

His smile was knowing and confident now; he had his wife where he

wanted her, knew there was no escape for her now. Still, that didn't

mean that he wasn't going to taunt her quite a bit before he gave her

what she really wanted--what they both did. Her willing desire was

just to sweet not to enjoy in depth. His eyes ran along her sweet

body again. She moaned loudly no longer able to stand his soft

torments, needing so much more.

 

"Please, touch me," she begged. Her eyes were more than a little desperate.

 

A warm growl echoed in his throat, as his feral smile grew deeper. "Is that your fantasy?"

 

Her eye grew wider, her moan deeper. "*Yes*."

 

He let out a deep, rumbling laugh, as he leaned down to her finally. "Mine too."

 

A few seconds later, he had grazed lightly past her lips, and his hot

mouth was moving down her throat, was possessing her--while showing

her his absolute control of her desires; she let out a loud moan at

his message--and at the sweet, wet heat of his mouth--and felt his

hands start to move toward her breasts. "Yesssss," she moaned.

 

He let out a rumbling laugh against her and felt her shudder. Oh, he

loved that. He bit his possession of a tender spot on her neck in

response. He adored how desperately she gave herself up to him, how

much she needed his touch.

 

She shuddered again beneath him, beginning to whimper at his sweet

devastation of her tender flesh; his hands were now lightly stroking

the bottom of her breasts. He bit a tender spot beneath her jaw, as

well, and she moaned out her desire. He loved this torment of her,

but it wasn't enough; he wanted to give her more, to make her blaze

further. His teeth stroked over her, as he let her go, looking back

to her eyes once more; his gaze was commanding and feral. His thumbs

finally found the hard points that needed him, and she let out a soft

cry, pushing herself further toward him; he smiled, his need for her

aching in him. She had shut her eyes at the beautiful touch of his

hands, but she opened them again to stare into his, desperate-

begging. She whimpered and arched her back, pushing her breasts

further toward his touch; a little moan echoed in her, as he

increased his lovely, roughened thumbs' pressure in their strokes.

 

Her eyes had closed again, losing herself to his touch. He smiled and

ran his own gaze down along her supine form, his need for her beating

thunderously through his blood, his shaft huge and desperate. He

twisted his fingers over the sweet points beneath them once more,

too, rasping over them, and she whimpered more loudly--making the

fire in him burn hotter--threatening to turn every scrap of

tenderness in him to ashes.

 

His fingers had her nipples trapped passionately, making her burn so

sweetly--the thumbs possessing them roughly. She was letting out

constant small moans, the feeling singeing in her--the desperate ache

inside her growing even stronger. He twisted over them again, and she

let out a pleading whimper. "More."

 

His gaze demanded an answer from her--and she gave it without

hesitation. "Please," she begged. She moved her legs slowly from

between his own, opening herself, asking for him. She swallowed

heavily. "Richard, please."

 

He needed to hear this, needed to hear her constant cries for him,

her desperate pleas for his attention--needed them in order to heal

all the torment of Ahm Shere. His eyes were intense,

commanding. "Tell me."

 

She saw the look there, saw what she had unintentionally done to this

beloved man--saw how deeply he was still hurt; there were tears in

her eyes from the realization--from need, from love, from sheer

regret. His thumbs were stroking just below her breasts, too, making

her shiver for more. "I want you, Rick." The words were a little

choked with emotion. "I want you to make love to me." She swallowed heavily, the tears building further. He closed his eyes for a second, overcome by the undying love there. A tear slipped down his cheek. Rick could see her again, lying on the sands of Egypt. He swallowed heavily. He looked back to her finally with more love in his eyes than she had ever seen before; she moaned, the impact of the sweet look immense.

 

Still, the tender emotion hadn't diminished the continuing heat

there --had only increased it.

 

She let out a shuddering breath. "Please just love me," she moaned.

 

He couldn't take any more, was convinced he might break at any

second. He leaned down, then, to possess her sweet mouth, to

knowingly swamp her in an undeniable kiss. He heard her whimper

through it, too, and moaned more loudly. God--yes. She was crying

slightly through the kiss, was overcome by the beautiful, tender, and

passionate emotions he gifted to her there. She became more desperate

in it, then, needing more. He continued the kiss for several, very

long heartbeats, a lingering growl in his throat. The kiss, too,

became wilder, as his passion for her grew. He couldn't wait much

longer to love her-- to explore her, to be inside her; he wouldn't

survive without that. He knew he was probably bruising her sweet lips

with the intensity of his kiss, as well, but he wasn't certain he

cared at the moment; When he pulled back from her finally, he was

gasping a little, his eyes wild, his body trembling slightly. "You're

mine," he whispered hoarsely. The inferno of his gaze licked further

at her. "Rick" she whispered softly, her love absolutely clear in her

gaze.

 

He growled more deeply and leaned in to nip a hard kiss over her

lips. He wouldn't ever let her forget his love after tonight. Rick's

lips began his possession of her, began to reclaim her as his own.

 

His mouth again kissed down the side of her face before coming to

lick and bite little possessive marks under her jaw line; each one

made her moan, made the surging heat flow, collecting in the tight,

growing need deep within her--the one which begged for his expert

release. "More," she moaned. Her throat was exposed to him once more,

her head back; he loved it. He took the opportunity to rediscover

every spot of passion on her neck and throat, adoring the taste of

her once more. Nothing else, ever, was as beautiful as her desire.

 

She was letting out constant soft cries now; each place his mouth

found once again sent a warmth swelling, moving into her deepest

core. Oh God, she wanted him--wanted him in her now--wanted him wild

and desperate. That, truly, was all she would ask of life. He could

feel her growing devotion to him, her utter desperation for his

touch. His hands returned to her lovely breasts, caressing their

fullness with joy--his teeth now lovingly tormenting one of her

neck's most passionate spots. The sweet flesh in his hands had been

pulled a little taut by her current position, as well, but the

reminder of her willing submission to him--of her absolute trust of

him--only made the fire burn more wickedly. God, he had to be

careful, or he just wasn't sure what he would do.

 

She, however, felt his caution--and hated it. It was in the slight shudder of his body against hers, was in the tautness she could feel in his muscles, the desperate control which clung to him, as he tried to pull himself back from his real desires. She didn't want any of this, though, wanted him wild and insane with need. There was just no other desire at all. She was half-beginning to think, indeed, that it wouldn't even matter to her whether he gave her the ultimate release her body was clamoring for, so long as she could feel him achieve it--so long as she could know for certain that his desire for her was absolutely real . . .. Of course, this might also have had something to do with the fact that she was well aware that he simply wasn't capable of not pleasing her, that he would achieve no joy himself without hers. It was what they both needed now. She felt his incredible hands softly working the flesh of her breasts, then, and she moaned a little desperately, pushing herself toward him-- wanting so much more. His teeth, too, were being maddeningly cautious at the crook of her neck--and that just wasn't what she wanted at all.

 

"Rick!" she whimpered, pleadingly.

 

He recognized the change in the sound, understood her request. He

looked up at her, waiting to see what she needed--praying his growing

desperation hadn't somehow hurt her. What he saw there, though, was a

sense of need so intense it singed him, destroyed all his lingering

fears. He let out a heavy, shuddering gasp.

 

She saw that he finally understood, that he now knew what she wanted.

 

She nodded, confirming it, her voice shaky. "*Please*."

 

He looked into her for another few seconds, trying to confirm what he had seen. Once he was certain, however, he closed his eyes tightly, the rage of his need coming forth, threatening to explode from him . . .. He didn't know how much longer he could hold it back.

 

She saw how close he was to where they both needed him to be, and she

moaned. "Yes," she whispered, begging for him. It was what they both

wanted--was what they both had to have. Rick needed to begin to burn

off all the pain inside him.

 

She looked at him again with absolute love and trust, her eyes

opening her soul to his exploration. She explained simply all that

she felt. "I love you." Her breath shuddered a little. "I always

have." He began, then, by giving her another intense, wild, and hard

kiss, knowingly swamping her senses --and reveling in the lovely

fact. She whimpered, too, and he laid himself on top of her

completely, allowing himself to enjoy the silky feeling of her

incredible body beneath his own. Yes. This was what both of them

needed. Her sweet sounds of devotion continued through the kiss, as

his hands began to caress her breasts more intensely, his thumbs just

as rough as she wanted. He remembered finally, too, to let her

breathe, and pulled back to see her gasping, loving, and incredibly

trusting expression below him. He smiled freely, loving her more by

the second. She was his. He began, then, to repossess the soft skin

of her neck. He was giving catlike licks to the small spots he had

been biting before, as she whimpered with each one. He smiled at his

work. God, he loved it. This, though, wasn't all. He was enjoying, as

well, the fact that his hardened cock was pressing into her, was

burning into the flesh of her stomach --and lower. He smiled again,

as she whimpered and began to give her a happy love bite on the crook

of her neck. She moaned, too, loving it all, and he growled softly.

 

Good. Oh--oh, God, yes. This just felt so incredible; he knew every

place to touch her, knew exactly how she wanted him to. She had never

had an instant of pain from him in these moments. All there ever was

ecstasy, love--and a need for more. His heart thundered louder by the

second, as he continued to possess a few of his favorite spots on her

neck and throat--the ones which gave him the sweet joy of her moans

and cries in response--as his heart opened to her further. God, this

was what he had needed, was truly what he had dreamed of. This

perfect acceptance of each other was what made them both feel whole

and alive, was what gave them a reason to live. With the memory of

her lying on the desert floor, hearing her last words. He had been

dead. Now, however, they were both alive once more. It was truly

beautiful. The fire within her was building too strongly, was

becoming too much; she couldn't bear waiting any longer for him to

move on. It had been too long since she had felt that amazing mouth

on several other needy spots, after all. Lord, did she ever need it

again now.

 

"Rick," her voice called to him once more; he felt the ache of need

surge through him again, as he smiled to himself and suckled one more

needy spot roughly for a second, enjoying his recon quest of his

beloved. Then, however, he yielded to her request--and moved along to

some other places he had missed. There was just never enough of her

for him. Oh, it was nearly too much. She let out a crying moan, as

she felt that hot, wet tongue run down her body again; a second

later, too, he had recaptured a desperate nipple. Oh, yes. She

groaned in need and pushed herself toward him, praying for more. God,

the things he did to her were indescribable. The need in her was so

intense she was shaking. Her sweet cries surrounded him, enveloped

him in beauty, as he suckled the lovely little spot he so adored. She

was just so perfect everywhere, but this spot particularly gave her

such pleasure. His own aching desire aside, that alone would have

been enough to make him love it. Oh God, what a feeling. Her head was

back, as she moaned, shuddering against him. The warm light from his

sweet, warm mouth flowed inside her, making the need in her ache so

much more. There was no one at all who could ever equal the beautiful

man who was pleasing her now. No one else could even come close.

 

After a few minutes of this wonderful treatment, however, the

softness of his approach made her start to ache. "More," she begged.

 

Almost at the same second she asked for it, he began to nibble

lightly over the needy bud, causing a responding tremor to take over

her whole body. She was giving little, soft cries of need. He closed

his eyes tightly, no longer certain how much he could take, and how

much longer he could wait. She was so incredible, her body the

perfect one he had seen so often in his dreams of her--capable of

giving them both such immense pleasure . . .. Oh God, he wanted more.

She was whimpering by the time he was suckling at her navel,

therefore, the warm light moving deeper within her--something within

coiled tight. Her legs spread further in invitation, wanting him,

desperate for the pleasure only he could ever give. She just couldn't put it all into words. "Rick," she whimpered. He let out a hot,

shaky breath above the sweet curls near her core, his eyes closed.

 

Her words, her scent --the absolute knowledge of her need--all of it

made him ache to be inside her, to finally be received by his angel's

light. He shuddered strongly for a second. Lord, he hoped he could

hold out long enough to give her the pleasure she so deserved.

 

Without that, after all, he was nothing. He pushed away this terrible

fear, though, not allowing himself to fall back into self-doubts

right now. Now, after all, a miracle was before him. How, then, could

he do anything but give thanks? He gazed up at her to see her wide,

loving, needy eyes focused on his own--begging him for more. He

looked at her with all the love in his soul, then, and placed a

tender kiss just above the curls. There would never be anyone else

anything like his angel. His eyes lowered, as well, as he moved down,

focusing on this gift he remembered so well. He let out a shaky

breath near the tender flesh, too, and she moaned in desire.

 

The sound, however, was too much; he closed his eyes and kissed the

needy little bud tenderly, as she shuddered.

 

"Rick," she whimpered.

 

He groaned slightly; the sweet sound was too much. He let out a

desperate moan and moved down, therefore, kissing over all the tender

flesh of this flower of passion, thanking her for allowing him to

receive her gifts once more. She watched him, moaning, her heart

crying out for him. This beautiful man was treating her as though she

were an object of his most devoted worship. Just the sight of the

adoration for her on his incredible face was enough to make her

shudder; the soft, teasing sensations he gave her on top of it were

almost too much. Oh God, she needed him *soon*. He could feel her

love and desire for him, and the knowledge of them made him *wild*.

 

He looked back at these treasures he had been greeting and the ache

of his shaft beat so heavily he barely felt sane. As much as he

wanted to worship her adequately here, then, he knew he couldn't. He

just needed her far too much.

 

He gave a small lick along these treasures, then, and a suckling kiss

to her tender bud; she shuddered beneath him. He closed his eyes

again and moved back up to her beautiful, passion-deep gaze, before

looking back at her to explain. "I'm sorry, Evie." His breath was

coming in shaky little pants. "I just can't wait anymore." She moaned

deeply, as he caught her in an intense, loving kiss--the slight taste

of her own desire on his lips. She groaned and tried to capture him

in it further, loving him more desperately than she had words for--

more than ready to be his erotic captive once more. He felt all of

her need and acceptance there, and the sweet tenderness of the

feelings practically destroyed him. He ran his hands deep into the

soft hair he adored and kissed her more intensely. All he could think

about was how much he loved her. She was crying slightly now in love

and desperation; her need for him was absolutely singeing--was

burning her alive. When she finally felt him adjust his hips, then,

felt the incredible head of that huge cock start to move within her;

she broke from the kiss to scream in joy. She could feel the emotion

in him, after all; no one else would *ever* affect him like this. He

watched her crying for a second and stopped himself from entering

further, afraid that he might have hurt her. When she opened her eyes

once more, however, he understood the truth, saw the love and need

which shone so incredibly from her eyes; his breath left him in a

moan. Oh God--yes.

 

He wanted to release her hands, wanted to feel her incredible touch on his skin again--wanted to experience the beautiful way it goaded him on, begged him for more. Still, he couldn't just yet, needed to be completely inside her before he did. Her touch, after all, just gave him such a sweet, strong ache that he wasn't certain he could experience it yet and survive. He had to regain some sense of control before he allowed her to torment him so beautifully. He stroked one hand over her cheek, then, as the other slid down her body, angling her hips further toward his own. He then watched her every amazing expression, as he slowly began to coax his large cock deep within those incredible, tight, honeyed walls. Every inch was a miracle. She couldn't have agreed more. She was crying out, was pushing herself toward him, begging him to take her completely. She hadn't ever forgotten how incredible it was to be stretched around the sweet, hard breadth of him, but it was always a revelation, nonetheless. She knew she would never get used to it at all.

 

This thought, too, made her wild, made her need for him more insane

than she could take. She leaned up as much as she could to kiss

around his face; her heels were dug into the bed, as she pushed her

hips up to his entry. "More," she begged, "please, more."

 

He could feel the rising desperation in her, and it made him close

his eyes, his breath hissing from him. The rush of her need became a

pang of sweet ache through his incredibly hard shaft, nearly

destroying him. He had to hold completely still for a second, one

hand propping him up on the bed, in order to regain anything like

control. Lord, he was glad her hands weren't free at that moment. He

realized something else then, too. He needed to take absolute control

here now, or he wouldn't make it; he had to take her with all the

strength of his fierce need, or he could never please them both. He

just wasn't that strong. He took her face in his hands, then, and

began his new plan, pushing her back into the bed. "Be quiet," he

demanded softly. "Just receive." He captured her in an erotically

tormenting kiss.

 

She began to whimper wildly, softening entirely in his touch; just that reaction was practically more than he could stand. He had to take her completely. He began, then, to possess her sweet depths more forcefully--with her entire, desperate consent. His strokes ran out and then further back in, sinking more of him into those tight, lovely walls each time. The feeling shook him. Oh God, she was so incredible . . .. He needed more. The kiss became wilder, as his every stroke moved his amazing, hard shaft deeper inside her-- reawakening every incredible spot there was. She whimpered and angled her head, trying to kiss him more deeply, begging for more of him.

 

Lord--she wanted him *all*.He broke from the kiss finally to close

his eyes tightly, his breath shuddering wildly; his whole body had

taken on a fine tremor. There was nothing else like this--nothing and

no one who came close to her. Every fantasy, every memory of her was

incomplete--could never compare. The beautiful, indescribably soft

walls enfolded him now, welcomed him, were mirrored in the most soul-

opening sense by the way her whole spirit enveloped and accepted him.

 

He looked back at her, tears in his eyes. Dear God--he was alive

again. He was whole.

 

She was whimpering and arching, was overwhelmed by the incredible way

he filled her. He had entered her wonderfully deeply now, but there

was still some of that beautiful, erotically massaging shaft left.

 

She whimpered again, as she looked at him. "Please," her lips moved.

 

The movement of her lips to that one word was too much for him,

though, made him too wild. He closed his eyes and invaded her willing

mouth desperately again, his breath hot and shaky against her--no

longer willing to wait. With two more deep, insistent strokes, then,

he was buried within her to the base--was hers completely once more.

 

They both cried out at the sensation, the kiss momentarily forgotten,

her legs wrapped tightly around him. For both of them, indeed, it was

just too much, simply felt too amazing. Their eyes were closed, their

breaths panting, as they tried to pull themselves together--tried to

even vaguely assimilate the absolutely soul-deep sensations. Finally,

again, they were whole. They stayed like that for a few minutes,

unable to move yet--too overcome; his forehead rested lightly against

hers, his breath hot against her face--hers hot against his own. His

fingers were tangled in her hair, too--were just experiencing the

softness of it, enraptured by her beauty. There would never be words

enough to explain how much he needed her. Finally, though, they both

needed more, both became slightly unhinged with desire. He captured

her in the exploring kiss again, therefore, as his hand reached up to

untangle hers from her bonds. He needed her touch. He began a very

short, deep rhythm--the head of his cock stroking the most tender,

furthest part of her core, working it to their mutual delight. The

feeling shuddered through him. Dear God, it was incredible. Lord, was

he ever right about that. Every small stroke was making the fire

within her burn bright and hot, was making the coming explosion build

even further. She tightened her walls around him, holding the

incredible shaft close, adoring every sensation the head gave her, as

she whimpered . . .. There would never be anyone else like him again.

 

He freed her hands completely and brought each back in one of his

own. His fingers massaged them, too, ran along her arms, trying to

apologize for his needs, moving the blood back into them completely.

 

He didn't regret his decision, really, but he did hope he hadn't hurt

her. Oh, God, this felt incredible; she was totally unaware of his

fears. She moaned and held onto his hands, twining her fingers with

his. They rested them to either side of her head, as well, as he

continued to keep her passionately where he wanted her in this more

symbolic, and more intimate, bondage. Ohhh, it was good--all of it.

 

The tender touch of his hands, the beautiful weight of his body, the

amazing, deeply-massaging thrusts of his cock--all of it made her

feel insane with need, made her want so much more of him she was

beginning to weep slightly. Everything within her was incredibly

bright, her slick depths feeling every inch of him, as she clung

tightly to his length. Pretty soon, she would explode.

 

Her legs tightened around him, then, and he let out a moan--his own

needs intense. His strokes were still deep within her but were moving

more heavily now--were working her more intently. His passion was

close to making him lose all human control. Her moan in response was

immense, as she arched into him further, begging for him to let go--

to spare her nothing. The heat she was feeling at the moment couldn't

be described, was simply too all-encompassing . . .. She wanted

absolutely everything he had to give. He felt the continuing heat in

her, felt her insanity rising, and he growled wildly in response. He

was letting go, was giving up on anything besides the savage need

which had overshadowed everything else in his soul; this was his

mate, indeed--and she would respond to him the way he needed her to.

 

He wouldn't leave her any other choice. She was letting out screams

through the kiss, as his strokes grew longer--and harder, beating

against the furthest, most needy depths of her core in a way which

gave her shuddering little bursts of light with each one. Oh God--it

was an ache too sweet and desperate to describe . . .. She might not

survive much more of this sort of pleasure. He knew she was losing

herself, was close to erotic destruction; he cherished it. Yes. She

would come for him today, would make him real. He wouldn't allow her

to escape from it for a second. His hands grasped her head now, then,

as he pulled her even more wildly into the kiss, her louder cries

sounding in it. He was riding her body high and deep, his thrusts

short, fast, and rough. He wouldn't make her wait long for her

pleasure.

 

Her moans and cries were immense, her whole body arching toward him

constantly--lost in the rhythm he had created for the two of them

alone. He obviously wasn't human anymore, had become something primal

and possessive--and her whole soul opened to him completely, begging

for more of his need. He was growling deep in his throat, was waiting

for her coming implosion--his whole manner rough and needy. God, that

she wanted him this way made him *wild*. Lord, it had to be soon. His

cock was working her in an unspeakably deep, fast, rough rhythm--the

head of it refusing to allow her a moment without trembling bliss.

 

His whole body was shaking with the emotions and feelings she gave

him, as well, too overcome to hold on for much longer. The fact that

she still loved him--that she always had--made him wild, made him

insane; every second of it sent a bolt of light through his whole

form and soul. Dear God, he had to please her soon. She cried more

loudly through the kiss again, barely able to hold on; every damn

second was just so . . . incredibly . . . sweet--and she savored each

one to its limits. Every part of her body and soul was his entirely.

 

She just couldn't experience much more without a total, beautiful

collapse.

 

He roared above her, his thrusts rougher and even more constant.

 

There was nothing human left in him anymore; everything was simple

desire. She had one hand in his hair, was holding him to the kiss,

while the nails of the other were dug deep into his shoulder; his own

hands were caressing her lower back, were holding her to his

conquering thrusts. They were both crying out more loudly. It was

going to be very soon. The shudders of light through her were

becoming louder, were overtaking her entirely. She just couldn't take

much more. She broke from the kiss, therefore, her whole body

shuddering--no sanity left. Her hands were claws on his shoulders,

digging in deep, as his burning gaze caught hers. She whimpered. God,

yes. He growled in response, too in need to care about anything but

what he wanted--and that was only their pleasure and her love. His

cock rode her hard.

 

She was crying out when his growling words caught her--his needs, his

demands in every line and sound of him. "Say it," he commanded. Her

lips opened, shakily, as a little gasp moved from her; his rhythm had

just intensified unspeakably. She wasn't sure she could even breathe

now from sheer wonder. She knew what he wanted, though--what he

needed to hear, but she wasn't at all sure she had the ability left

to speak. When she tried, indeed, only a little whimper came out. He

couldn't take it, however, was far beyond sanity or tenderness. He

needed to hear the words, needed them right now; he had to know this

was real, that it always had been, or he would simply take the next

few minutes to end his life. His look was some combination of cruel,

desperate, and pleading, then-- his voice quiet but rough. "Tell me!"

 

His indescribable rhythm had her floating, her lips open, and her

head back--barely able to think at all; it wasn't helping her efforts

to give him what he needed. He saw her situation, too, but was simply

unable to stop his erotic onslaught, was far beyond reason. He gave

her, then, one more, unspeakably intense and perfect, thrust. She let

out a gasp, arching herself at him; her nails dug deep into his

flesh. With every last ounce of strength and will she had, however,

she made one last effort--telling him the absolute truth of her soul,

her hand cupping his head desperately. "I love you, Rick," her broken

voice moaned. She managed to keep her eyes open for one more

heartbeat to show him this truth, as well, before her body convulsed

with the uncontrollable, racking power of her ecstasy, her head

falling back with a long, loud cry, lost to him completely.

 

He watched all of this in quaking and absolute devotion before closing his eyes incredibly tightly. She had done it, had told him what he had needed to hear--had healed something deep inside him. A tear ran down his cheek, a second before an immense, moaning cry rose from him--the beautiful destruction of his ecstasy overpowering him,

overwhelming completely every other sense. She managed to open her

eyes again, as her body continued to buck at him--her convulsive joy

multiplied endlessly by the sweet rush of heavy, heated desire which

filled her from him. Everything between them was too immense to

explain at all.

 

It was, for her, though--almost as much as anything else--the sight

of him, of the newly-found, unshakable peace on his gorgeous face, of

the love for her which seemed to surround him like a cloud, which

made everything so completely, unbearably perfect. She let out

another little cry and leaned up to him, kissing his cheek, enfolding

him in her love. He cried out more strongly, utterly lost to her--

more in love than he had ever been before. He grabbed her head and

held her close, moaning her name in a breath: "'Evelyn" The adoration

and forgiveness which flowed from him healed her, as well, allowed

her to put her terrible actions in the past--to abandon them. He held

her more tightly, too, and her ecstasy seemed to rise several levels,

her walls clasping him tight; she gave another shuddering cry, as her

nails moved down his back--marking him as her own.

 

His whole body shook with the feeling; he closed his eyes, holding

her head close to him. "Thank you," he whispered in her ear.

 

She leaned her head back, still shaky, to find his eyes again--seeing

the absolute love there. They captured each other in a loving, tender

kiss, then, holding one another close. They were both still

shuddering desperately. It was several minutes later, in fact, that

they finally released each other from the kiss, their raging pleasure

having died down only somewhat, enough to at least allow them to

begin to relax. They smiled. For the first time in so very long, they

both truly felt healed.

 

The covers of their bed had become rather badly disarrayed during the

past hour or more. It made it easier, however, for him to pull them

down--lifting her up to him and then settling them both more

comfortably.

 

He sighed, settling his head on her chest--listening to her

heartbeat, knowing that, like his own did with her in reverse, it

beat for him alone. He kissed her shoulder before settling himself

again. "I love you, Evie," he whispered softly.

 

She shuddered pleasantly, the aftershocks of her quaking release not

having entirely worn off; his words, however, almost outdid them.

 

Evie kissed his hair, holding him to her, giving him the comfort that

he so desperately needed. She sighed happily. "I've always loved you,

Richard." She smiled, kissing his hair again.

 

 

 

 

 

Finis

 

 

Hey all! Hope everyone liked my lil' fic here. I do want to give credit to a Kat Gilbert for giving me the inspiration for this fic. so.....Thanks! Ya, anyway, I'm going to let you all get back to your duck soup. Ta!

-Jen