Rating: NC17
Spoilers: None
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.
E-mail: cmbower@ennorath.net Comments are always welcome
Chapter Eighteen
With a groan, McQueen rolled over and slapped his alarm off. His eyes refused to focus immediately and he groaned again when he saw the time. 0600. Just like he had set it before dinner so he could take his early morning run before breakfast. The very idea of his feet pounding along the ground made his head hurt even more. Sitting up required a fair amount of careful maneuvering and he felt his stomach heave. Eying the distance between him and the bathroom, he doubted he'd make it the way he felt.
He made it, barely.
After praying to the porcelain god, McQueen crawled into the bathtub. The coolness soothed the pounding in his temples. He reluctantly decided to take a cool shower. He flipped the appropriate levers and let the water beat on his skin while he remained sprawled in the tub. When the alcohol daze appeared to left somewhat, he risked sitting up. Succeeding at that, he climbed to his feet, wincing as his skull announced the fact it wanted to split in two.
"How much did I drink?" he muttered, carefully running a hand through his hair. Swishing a mouthful of water around in the hope it would take some of the foul taste away, he tried to recall how many drinks he had consumed. A scotch before dinner, two glasses of wine, the scotch Patrick had given him in the garden. He remembered someone refilling his glass during the second movie. Probably Patrick. "Five so far."
Ducking his head under the water, McQueen knew there had been another scotch, or was it bourbon, slipped to him before he watched the third movie, a black and white film, about a fellow named Blandings. Two or three times his glass had been refilled while Blandings bought a house and started renovating it. He remembered laughing, his head on Lysa's shoulder, while poor Mr. Blandings dealt with disaster after disaster, all of them combined to make a hilarious movie. He still thought it was quite funny and probably equally funny to homeowners now as then. The next movie had been in color and he remembered thinking it was a remake of the previous one. Someone had slipped him another couple of drinks during that one, he was reasonably sure.
"Ten at a minimum," he growled. "Damned. No wonder I feel awful."
Cassie going to bed flashed into his mind and he groaned, leaning against the wall as he remembered that the drinks during the last movie had been easily three times the size of the previous ones. The one Patrick had given him had been two ounces so he had easily consumed a bottle of scotch, if not one and a half. That was before the women had split off to have their own party. He knew he had at least four or five more drinks.
Two bottles of scotch. No wonder he felt like death warmed over. He had never had so much to drink in his life. Not even Chiggy von Richthofen or his divorce had been drowned like this.
He buried his head back under the water.
His nose twitched as he smelled something he couldn't place immediately.
"Sir?"
McQueen nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Hawkes' voice. The sharp movement triggered another session of being sick and he dropped to his hands and knees.
"Sir, are you all right?"
"Go away."
As he waited for the world to settle and his stomach, McQueen stayed on all fours. The shower curtain was pushed aside as a naked Hawkes entered.
"You don't look too good, sir." Hawkes felt McQueen's forehead, easily avoiding the hand trying to stop him. "Slight temp. Can you stand up now?"
On shaking legs, McQueen did so with Hawkes' help. "What are you doing here?"
"You gave me express orders, sir. Don't you remember them?"
Starting to shake his head, McQueen thought the better of it. "No."
"You told me that I was to get you up and moving, no matter what. That I was to make sure you ate breakfast, a real breakfast, and that you made it to the ceremony completely sober."
An image of talking to Hawkes surfaced and McQueen said, "I vaguely remember." He took a deep breath, pleased that he didn't want to start throwing up some more, and said, "What did you bring? It doesn't smell like coffee."
"It isn't. A girl named Jennie gave me this tea to make. Said it would help reduce the effects of the alcohol on your system."
"Let me finish and I'll be right out to drink some."
"Sir, I think you're going to need some help."
The pounding in his head convinced McQueen he just might need the help. "All right."
By the time he was out of the shower and drying off, McQueen thought he might live. Sudden movements still made him sick to his stomach and he hated the dry heaves that brought on. Slowly, carefully, he walked over to his bed and sat down, head in his hands.
"Sir, here's the tea."
Taking the cup, McQueen raised his head slowly and breathed in the tea's aroma. Cinnamon or nutmeg, he wasn't sure which, a hint of Earl Grey, honey, a green tea, and a smell he couldn't identify. He cautiously sipped it and felt the warmth spread out from his stomach which did not rebel against the tea. Finishing the cup, he handed it back to Hawkes and started massaging the back of his head.
"Here, sir."
Another cup of tea in Hawkes' hand. "How much did you bring?"
"I made you a thermos full. I drank half of a thermos and now I'm hungry."
Even as he drank the second cup, McQueen felt the severe pounding in his head lessen. "This stuff works."
"I noticed." Hawkes grinned. "I think I drank entire bottle of scotch last night."
McQueen grunted, not willing to admit to how much he thought he had drunk. "I think it'll be awhile before I have another drink." He handed Hawkes the cup.
"Yes, sir." Pouring the next cup, Hawkes asked, "Sir, do you remember everything from last night?"
The slight apprehension in Hawkes' voice made McQueen jerk his head around and he cursed sharply as he ran for the bathroom. Wiping his mouth afterward, he slumped against the tub, eyes closed. "I hate this."
"Here, sir." Hawkes took McQueen's hand and wrapped it around the cup. "It's a waste of the tea, but it's better than the dry heaves."
Opening his eyes, McQueen saw the still naked Hawkes kneeling beside him. "Get dressed, Hawkes." He started to sip the tea.
"Yes, sir."
McQueen couldn't help admiring the firm, young, supple body before him. Once Hawkes had finished dressing, McQueen struggled back to his feet. "How big is this thermos?"
"It's on the nightstand."
In the main room, McQueen looked at the thermos. "I think it's going to take at least another half a thermos, Hawkes."
"Yes, sir."
Once Hawkes had vacated the premises, McQueen sat on the bed, under the covers, drinking the tea. Leaning his head against the wall, he tried to remember last night.
The women had split off for their own party and somehow he doubted that they had gotten as drunk as the men. The scotch had flowed even freer, if possible. Then West and Hawkes had started arguing over which of them was the better flyer. When they had asked him, he had answered that neither of them were, that the real answer had been he was.
The argument had escalated with St. John and Russell joining in. He recalled running around the room in a mock dogfight with West, Hawkes, Russell and St. John. They climbed up on tables and chairs, jumping down on one another, until Russell said,
"We're not proving anything. We're still on the ground."
"The diving board," announced West triumphantly.
They had all trooped out to the swimming pool and taken turns jumping, twisting and corkscrewing in the air, into the water, clad in their shorts. Then he remembered Patrick sniggering out-loud and he had grabbed Patrick's arm and declared that Patrick would show them how good he was at flying. He escorted Patrick to the top of the diving board. And before Patrick jumped, he had kissed him. He jumped into the pool after Patrick, a straight flight down. Getting out he had seen Ross and kissed him. West kissed Hawkes, Russell accepted a kiss from Patrick and it had quickly degenerated into a frenzy of hands and mouths as they swapped partners back and forth. At the end, they all collapsed on the grass. Nothing between his final kiss with Ross and waking.
How the hell had he gotten in bed? Racking his memory, McQueen could hear snickers and giggles. He groaned, realizing that the exhibition had been watched by the women. Oh, god, Ross was in deep trouble with Rhonda if she saw any of the last part. He prayed that Lysa had seen what was going to happen and had gotten her out of there. The thought of Lysa brought back a tantalizing memory of her voice telling him to sleep and the touch of her hand on his fevered brow. Had she brought him to bed? What a mess last night had been.
Finishing off the tea, McQueen swung his legs over the edge of the bed, setting the cup down and vowed, "I'm never attending another bachelor party with vampires." The pounding in his head intensified with the movement.
Someone knocked. "Yes?"
"Hawkes, sir."
"Come in."
Hawkes entered carrying a tray with a plate and a thermos.
On Hawkes' heels came Patrick. "You've looked better."
"Thank you," snarled McQueen, irritated by the obvious lack of hangover on Patrick's face.
Patrick smiled broadly. "A benefit of being a vampire. We metabolize alcohol three times faster. My hangover was three hours ago. But then I didn't go to bed." He sniffed the tea Hawkes handed McQueen. "Ah, an excellent choice. Give it an hour and you'll be just fine."
"Meaning I will be capable of thinking without my head exploding." McQueen started drinking the tea, wanting to get rid of the raging headache.
With a chuckle, Patrick sank down into the chair at the foot of the bed. "Quite an impressive show last night."
"Don't remind me, please. I'd prefer to think of it as a bad dream."
"And forget all the fun?" Patrick laughed out loud at the sour look McQueen gave him. "It was a lot of fun, man. And you yourself started it."
"So you got your wish."
"Did I ever." Patrick chuckled again. "And I must say, that your boys are every bit as delicious as you."
Reaching for the thermos, McQueen saw the stark appraisal Hawkes gave Patrick. A jumble of images flashed through his mind. Hawkes' mouth yielding to his as he slid between the powerful legs, the firm body molding to his own. The feel of Ross' hands on him as he gave himself up to his friend. Trust and worship in West's eyes as he slowly lowered his head to taste the offered lips, the smooth young body dancing to the tune his fingers played. Desire flaring in Griffin's eyes as the vampire cupped his head for a kiss.
Snapping his head around to stare at Patrick, McQueen snapped, "Where the hell did Griffin come from?"
"He was late."
"Is he still here?"
"No, he left around five thirty. Lysa said he showed up while the women were watching the jumping contest. He accompanied them back to their party after we spent ourselves."
"What?"
Patrick shrugged. "Well, we weren't capable of anything at the time. And I'm sure the show sparked a few desires."
That was all he needed. Griffin and the women. It defied possibility.
"Don't worry about it. Lysa didn't even have a hangover this morning, so I'm sure she kept things from getting out of hand over there."
"Which we obviously didn't do."
"We weren't supposed to."
"Sir, I didn't hear any complaints from the women this morning." Hawkes held out the plate. Two bagels halves with cream cheese and a bran muffin split with butter on it were on it. "Try to eat something, sir."
"When did you see the women?"
"While I was getting some more tea. Silver suggested the bagels and muffin."
"Was the commodore's wife there?"
Hawkes nodded. "She was joking and laughing with the others."
Taking the plate, McQueen hoped that Ross wasn't in trouble. "Thank you." Before he took a bite of the muffin, he asked Patrick, "Just where did you spend the rest of the night?"
"With a friend. I left him sleeping." Patrick grinned, pleased with himself.
Glancing at the clock, McQueen saw it was nearly seven. "Only four hours to detoxify."
"That's part of why I came by. I thought I'd offer my services. The tea will help, but it won't clear the alcohol out of your system fast enough." When McQueen frowned, Patrick shook his head. "Stubborn, aren't you? All I'm suggesting is that you drink a bit, concentrate on how you normally feel, and you'll be much further along in your recovery by the time of the ceremony." He chuckled and gave McQueen an evil grin. "And after putting away three full bottles of the best aged scotch from my distillery, which by the way was damned near 90 proof, I really think you're going to need it."
"Damn." McQueen started eating, aware of Hawkes' awed expression. He pointed a finger at Hawkes. "Don't you tell anyone."
"No, sir. They wouldn't believe me."
"You kept pouring the damned stuff," McQueen pointed out to Patrick.
"And you kept drinking it."
Realizing he was not up to arguing and wouldn't be at this rate for many hours, McQueen leaned back with a sigh. "All right."
"Finish your food and tea then. It'll give the alcohol something to bond with afterward." Patrick stretched out and closed his eyes.
Hawkes stepped closer to the bed. "Sir, about the question I asked earlier..."
"Yes, I do."
Hawkes heaved a sigh, relief flashing across his face. "I didn't want to be the one to remind you."
"It's not necessary, Hawkes." His left shoulder itched and he absently reached back to scratch.
"Good, because I don't want to be the one to explain to Colonel Silver how it came to be."
A feeling of dread filled McQueen. What had he forgotten about?
"Careful how you scratch, though, sir. Jake did say you needed to be careful. You don't want to get an infection."
Now absolutely certain that he had forgotten something major, McQueen said, "Hawkes, give me about twenty minutes. If I'm not outside my door by then, come in and get me. All right?" The itching became nearly intolerable.
"Yes, sir."
Hawkes left.
Throwing the covers back, McQueen stood up, grateful his stomach didn't object. "All right, Patrick. What the hell was he talking about?"
Patrick grinned, but didn't open his eyes. "Haven't looked in a mirror lately, have you?"
"Patrick!"
"At least you didn't do it on your butt."
That confirmed his worst suspicions. "When?"
"After the girls left. West said it was too bad you'd have only memories of the night. Hawkes suggested a tattoo. When you protested the need to go into town, Jake said he could do it. Roger had appropriate dyes. We bandied about a few possibilities, but you had enough sense to shoot them down as giving information to the enemy in case of capture."
The phrase, 'property of Lysa Silver,' darted through his mind. McQueen made his way to the bathroom and the mirror. Looking over his shoulder into the mirror, he saw a two by three inch black outline. Inside the box in royal blue were the words, 'The Last Angry Angel. Property of USMC.'
He walked back to the bed, slumping down on it, head in his hands. "I managed fifteen years in the military without getting a damned tattoo. I didn't want a damned tattoo. And last night, I got one. Damn."
When Patrick laughed, McQueen glared at him, but as Patrick refused to open his eyes, it was ineffective. "You're no help."
"The Last Angry Angel was West's contribution. The property one was Ross'."
"I'm going to kill him. He knew I didn't want a tattoo."
"I doubt very much he'll remember it. He was snoring before Jake got started."
"What do I tell Lysa?"
"To be careful."
"That is not helpful."
Still grinning, Patrick got up. "You can worry about it after the ceremony. Now, if you are going to be in any fit state by then, you better have a drink now so you can be up and dressed by the time that gorgeous hunk of a Marine returns."
"Vampires. All they think about is sex."
"Don't forget blood." Patrick stood next to McQueen and slashed his wrist open. "Drink, my friend. You have other things to worry about right now. Sis will kill us both if you show up still hung over."
McQueen took four swallows and fell back onto the bed when Patrick pushed him over. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his body feeling normal, not affected by the alcohol. He felt Patrick's fingers brush across his cheek.
Nearly ten minutes later, McQueen opened eyes, feeling a thousand times better. No headache, no desire to throw up, and he could think clearly. Patrick was no where to be seen.
He dressed quickly in some jeans and a buttoned shirt. Hawkes was coming down the hallway as he stepped out of his room. Balancing the tray with the two thermoses and the empty plate, he shut the door.
"Feeling better, sir?"
"Yes, Hawkes. I'm ready for that real breakfast, I think."
Wrapping what little dignity remained after the previous night about him, McQueen entered the dining room. He set the tray down and made a bee-line for the coffee. Giving the room a quick look, he saw that Ross sat at a table beside his wife who was busy talking with Ruth. His friend grinned and McQueen felt some of his tension drain away. Things between Glen and Rhonda were at least all right.
Hawkes quickly loaded up a plate and took a seat at a table at the far end of the room.
Sipping his coffee, McQueen started to fill a plate with food. He saw Vansen walk in and knew by the way she refused to meet his eyes that she had seen the aftermath of the pool. She started dishing up her own food.
"Vansen, I-"
She looked up at him at the same time, saying, "Sir, I-"
McQueen shook his head slightly, amused. "You first."
"Sir, last night, I saw-"
"A bunch of extremely drunk men acting like fools. And I include myself in that assessment."
"Sir, I would never say-"
"Thank you, but it is the truth. We were very drunk. I want to apologize if anything offended you." McQueen poured himself an orange juice. "We got very carried away." He gestured toward another glass.
"I wanted to apologize for watching." She nodded.
McQueen snorted softly as he poured her a glass. "Shane, I knew some of you were watching and you didn't see me stopping, did you?"
Vansen shook her head as she took the glass.
"Then there's no reason to apologize. We... I got exceedingly drunk and acted like a damned fool kid." He chuckled. "When jumping into a cold swimming pool multiple times doesn't clear your head, that's pretty damn drunk."
"Well, sir, I'll admit you were amazingly drunk. You all were." Vansen laughed softly. "When Hawkes did that flip into the pool and belly-flopped, we figured that would clear his head. We started laughing when he came out, saying, 'Wow! Who's next?' Rhonda said it would serve you all right if you couldn't even see straight this morning."
"Speaking of Rhonda," McQueen hesitated.
"She saw the whole thing, sir."
"Oh, god. What did she say about Ross?"
"Nothing."
"Uh-oh."
"Not to worry, sir. Though you should probably talk to her."
"Not the way I wanted to start the day off." He sighed. "By the way, I didn't see Wang or 'Phousse by the fourth movie. Do you know what happened to them?"
"Paul was feeling tired and she decided to go with him. I didn't see them after that."
McQueen decided to drop the line of questioning. He had a pretty good idea what had happened between the two. "I'll see them later then."
"Good luck, sir. I'll steer the squad over by me." She headed for Hawkes' table.
"Thank you." He felt pity for the ribbing that the male members of the squad were going to be getting.
McQueen stepped over by his friend. "May I join you?"
"Sit down, Ty." Ross waved him to a seat. "We were just having an interesting conversation."
Waiting until he was sitting, McQueen asked, "About what?"
Ruth reached over and patted Rhonda's arm. "It turns out that Rhonda is the child of a lost Remal. Her mother is dead now, but, from what she told Rhonda, she is descended from Remal that for one reason or another were lost to the main clans. It happens from time to time. In this case, her mother's line passed information down so when Rhonda came here, she started to wonder and asked Lysa some pointed questions."
"After I had a few drinks." Rhonda shook her head. "It's still hard to believe. I listened to my mother, but didn't really believe her. I mean, vampires? Real honest living vampires?"
"She got a crash course on vampires last night." Ross grinned at his wife. "And she gives her blessing in case Silver needs my help."
"How could I not after what she taught me last night? I had never imagined..." Rhonda shook her head again. "At my age, two vampires were almost more than I could handle."
"Rhonda, dear," Ruth stood up. "We'll find a suitable vampire in your home area. Or at least some Remal so that you can catch up on your education. We take care of our own."
"And if I decide that I don't want a vampire?"
Smiling, Ruth laid her hand on Rhonda's shoulder. "It is your decision. But you should have all the facts before making such a decision. But no matter what you decide, we'll take care of you and your children."
"My children?"
"The odds are one of your children will be Remal. They can be tested quite easily and taught the necessary things in order to make an informed decision when they come of age." Ruth smiled gently. "Don't worry. We have no intention of taking your children away from you. Over the centuries, we have found it easier on all parties if the truth is known early on. They do not have to become fully functional Remal any more than you do."
"I can see that I have a lot to learn." Rhonda sighed. "But not today. Today I see Ty getting married."
"Well," drawled Ross, "technically he already is. I married them on the station."
"That's the legal one, yes, dear." Rhonda swatted her husband on the arm. "But today is the real one."
Ruth walked over to the buffet and poured herself a coffee.
"Was your arrival home as exciting as I think it was?" McQueen asked Ross.
"You mean walking in the door and finding out that a tailor was waiting for me?" Ross chuckled. "She read me the riot act. Until I reached the part about it being your wedding and that she was invited."
"And if you had bothered to tell me about it last time you called, I could have had something suitable ready."
Ruth returned to stand beside Rhonda.
"Love, you didn't see the fitting yesterday. I doubt you would have found anything suitable even with a month's preparation."
"After you've eaten, Rhonda, we'll see if we can find something suitable." Ruth smiled widely. "Your husband is quite correct. You have no idea what is suitable for this ceremony."
"I think the dress I brought is fine."
"Love, as lovely as that dress would be at a normal wedding, it is too conservative for this."
"Too conservative?" Rhonda's eyebrows rose.
"Oh, yes. Not nearly enough cleavage and it sure as hell doesn't show off your figure the way it should."
"It doesn't? You said it was fine the last time I wore it."
"For the society we're used to, yes. For here, no. You'll understand as you help Lysa and the other women get dressed." Ross grinned. "In fact, I'm looking forward to seeing what they can find for you. Then I want to get something like it for when I come home on leave."
Even as Rhonda blushed, Ruth said, "She may keep whatever we find. We have rooms full of clothing that we keep just for such occasions. We won't miss one or two dresses."
"I'd like to get a private viewing before we start dressing for the ceremony." Ross kept his eyes on Rhonda who nodded. "Good. Then I better go find Charles and read over the ceremony a few times before then."
Rhonda swallowed hard as Ross left "He's been amazingly happy since he came home. Usually it takes him a day or two to finish griping about things. This time, he's been talking up a storm when he's not... Any way, he's talked a lot about you, Ty, and Lysa. He's proud of you both and exceedingly proud to be involved in your wedding."
Ruth went to talk to Patrick by the buffet.
"I'm happy to have him involved, Rhonda. And thank you for coming. If I had known that he hadn't told you, I would have insisted."
"Ty, I know he loves you. I want you to know I'm not jealous. I've known for a long time that he loved you. It was there in his eyes whenever he talked about you. He told me that you and he finally... well, frankly, I figured that it happened many years ago. I'm ashamed that I thought-"
"Rhonda, until several months ago, I didn't realize how long he had been in love with me. I knew he cared, but I thought only as a friend. I cherish that friendship even more now. Last night was only the third time that we consummated that love. I didn't expect you to be watching. No matter what happens, Rhonda, just remember who he comes home to."
She nodded. "I know. Last night I saw how the two of you loved each other. Right beside me was Lysa and she was chuckling. I asked her why and she said, 'They've been besotted for years. But neither one would risk rejection. So they settled for making each other miserable instead of taking what happiness they could from one another. Glen loves you with all his heart and soul, Rhonda, never doubt that. But they fill a hole in each other's souls that no one else can, not even I.' She kissed me and said, 'Treasure him, hold him tight every time he comes home. Give him the love that sustains him out there in the darkness. He'll need it in the times to come. And I swear we will do everything in our power to make sure he survives to come home at the end.' I started crying."
McQueen felt tears in his eyes and blinked rapidly.
"She held me and told me that Glen talked about me out there. That I was lucky to have a man who loves me as deeply as he does. That... sex between the two of you did not diminish his love for me one bit."
"It doesn't, Rhonda."
She smiled at him. "It's going to take a little time, but I think I'll accept it. It is hard to hear that your love is having an affair on the side with his best friend."
McQueen laughed. "If it helps any, Rhonda, once I realized the truth, I seduced him. He protested, but I won in the end."
"Ever the soldier."
"Yes."
"The only thing I ask, Ty, is that you take care of him. I want him home in one piece and alive. He is my love."
"Everything in my power, Rhonda. I want him to come home to you the same way."
"Good." She rose. "I'll see you later, Ty."
Rhonda walked away with Ruth.
"Well, that went a lot better than I expected," McQueen muttered. His gaze was riveted by the sight of Wang and 'Phousse entering. He knew immediately his guess about their activities of the night was right. They couldn't take their eyes off each other, barely looking away to get their food.
"Looks like consummated love." Patrick took the chair Ross had vacated.
"They have to be able to fight together."
"So do you and Lysa. And I expect there will be some spectacular ones from time to time."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know. Don't worry. They'll work it out. Just like you and Lysa will. Just remember that it's going to be a while before he actually gets to fight. It'll give her added incentive in the fighting for now."
McQueen nodded, realizing he had been thinking of Wang fighting alongside 'Phousse now instead of later. "A point to you."
"Good. I get few enough off you."
"You don't stay objective enough."
Patrick grunted. "And you do? I've seen you talking about the military, the war, Invitro rights, and half a dozen topics. Don't tell me objectiveness is the key."
"When I know what I'm talking about, yes. You have a habit of not doing your research before you jump into the argument. Nor do you finish thinking through your argument."
"Great," Patrick said dryly.
McQueen grinned. "Don't worry. I don't hold it against you."
"Thanks, I think." Patrick leaned back in the chair. "I have been asked to remind you that you should be dressed by ten."
"But the ceremony isn't until eleven."
"Hey, I'm not arguing with my mother. You want to, go right ahead. But after last night..."
Shaking his head, McQueen sighed. "No. I made a big enough fool of myself."
"A thoroughly delectable one at that."
"Patrick."
"Lighten up, T.C. I know last night was probably the last time. But that doesn't mean I won't tease you."
"All right." Taking a sip of his cooled coffee, McQueen asked, "So where is this ceremony taking place?"
"You remember the gazebo out by the lake?"
"Yes."
"That's a good spot."
"That's what Lysa thought. She's always wanted to have her consort ceremony there at this time of year." Patrick smiled thoughtfully. "Funny. We'd all given up hope that she'd ever pick a formal consort. She make an excellent choice."
"A great many people wouldn't agree with that statement."
Anger ran through Patrick's words. "Don't you dare let small minded people rule your life. The day will come when invitroes will be recognized for the people they are. It may not be in our lifetimes, but it will happen. Just remember it took a century from the time that they were declared free men that the African-American got the rights they deserved. And another forty before they were fully invested with those rights."
"A long road. I suspect that Hawkes and I will be at the forefront of the battle. I just don't want to be another Martin Luther King Jr."
"Martyrs are great for causes, lousy for the families." Patrick glanced out the window. "It's going to be a lovely day for the ceremony and a hike."
Grateful for the change in subject, McQueen nodded. "I'm glad it's here. The waiting was getting to me."
"I bet. I remember how Peter was."
"What about you and Jake? Any prospects?"
"No. Haven't found the right mate." Patrick shrugged. "I will eventually."
"Before you're too old to have children?"
"With any luck. But even so, precautions have been taken. My genes won't be lost. Same with Jake. After all, accidents do happen."
"Yes." McQueen frowned at his now cold coffee and set it aside. "About the ceremony. Is there anything I need to do to prepare?"
"No. You just need to answer the questions put to you. Yes or no. Feel free to elaborate if you want to."
"That's what Lysa said."
"It's really that simple. Both sides answer the questions put to them."
"What about the vows?'
"That's what you'll be saying yes or no to."
"I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop."
Grinning, Patrick grabbed both of their cups. "You'll have a long wait." He headed for the coffee maker.
McQueen watched him with a rueful grin. He accepted his hot coffee cup gladly. "Do you think anyone will object to the ceremony?"
"No one in their right mind." Patrick grinned. "Don't worry, T.C. Everything will be just fine. Now, you might want to get some relaxing done before you get dressed. You won't have much time to before the ceremony and during the reception." With an mischievous glint in his eyes, he said, "And I know you won't get any once you leave the reception. You'll have to get back to the war to get some rest."
"And that is supposed to worry me?"
"You've never seen Lysa at a hundred percent. She's there now. Three whole days, alone with her. I pity you and I pray you can keep up." Laughing, Patrick walked away.
Finishing his coffee, McQueen sat looking out the window. He rose, gave his kids a quick look and headed for his rooms. He had an hour and a half to kill, perhaps with a good book.
In the pre-ceremony gathering, McQueen mingled, being introduced as necessary by Charles or one of Lysa's brothers. Some of the clothing, or nearly lack thereof, the men and women wore made even his cheeks redden. Both Charles and Ruth were stunning in their body revealing clothes, making it clear that they were in fantastic shape. The dress Ruth had found Rhonda was definitely conservative compared to the majority of the crowd, yet she was exquisitely on display. Some of the guests surprised him. Gregory had returned with his wife, Faith.
She greeted him with a smile. "So you're the handsome devil that finally caught the girl."
McQueen nodded, unsure how to take the statement exactly.
"Lysa's been a favorite of mine for years." Faith patted his arm. "She's been searching a long time for you."
"So have I."
"Good, my child."
The odd tone in her voice made him glance at her sharply, but she had already turned to smile at Jake.
His next surprise came in the form of Major General MacIntyre. Dressed appropriately for the occasion, the general clearly belonged to the Family. Two silver stars flashed on his tuxedo's collar.
"You're certainly looking fit, Colonel."
"Thank you, sir."
"I'm looking forward to talking to you on the way back to the 5th Fleet."
"Sir?"
"Haven't you been notified? I'm taking replacement destroyers and battleships out to the 5th Fleet and your squadron is hitching a ride."
"Thank you, sir."
"No sense in making you travel by transport when I'm already headed out that way myself. Besides, I need to talk to you and Lysa."
"Yes, sir."
n older brunette took hold of MacIntyre's arm. "Love, you can't hog him all to yourself. You promised no military talk today. The entire day."
Smiling at her and patting her hand, MacIntyre said, "I know, dear. McQueen, this is Jill, my wife. Every so often she gets completely fed up with military affairs and absolutely forbids me to talk about it for a day. Considering she's a Lt. Colonel in her own right, I figure it's best to obey."
"Yes, sir. Pleased to meet you, ma'am." McQueen shook her hand.
"And you, McQueen. We've heard a lot about you and the 5-8 over the past two years. Lysa's lucky to have found you. She deserves someone with your abilities and courage."
"Thank you, ma'am. And I consider myself lucky to have been found by her. I find it hard sometimes to believe it's real."
"It's real, McQueen. Very real."
"Yes, ma'am."
Charles tapped McQueen on the arm. "Time to move out to the gazebo."
"Sir, ma'am." McQueen gave MacIntyre and Jill a nod of farewell and followed Charles.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes, sir," answered McQueen promptly.
Charles gave McQueen a piercing look. "Nervous?"
"I'm going to stand before a bunch of people I don't know and answer questions that will determine my future happiness. What's to be nervous about? Hell, yes, I'm nervous."
Laughing, Charles clapped McQueen on the shoulder. "You'll do just fine. Just answer truthfully and do no be afraid to take time to consider the questions. A fast and quick answer is not always the best one. You need to understand what you're getting into, son."
"I just wish I knew what I was answering."
"So does everyone in your position." Charles opened the door leading to the lake path. As he and McQueen headed down the path, guests started following. "The questions are not known until the night before."
"What?"
"The High Priest chooses the questions and an aide brings them the night before the ceremony. But the general tone of the questions is a lot like the marriage vows you've already taken once."
McQueen nodded. "Is there a problem with Glen performing the ceremony?'
Chuckling, Charles said, "Not in the least. Unlike human marriage ceremonies, we do not believe we need a sanctified priest to administer the vows. Hakur and Jalke will oversee the vows, and, if the vows are given with a false heart, they will stop the proceedings." Turning serious, Charles stopped McQueen and gripped him firmly by the shoulders. "Understand this, my son. The vows are soul binding. You are swearing vows before the Master Engineer, Hakur and Jalke who are to us his direct servants. They will judge you in the end as to how you have kept these vows. This is not something to do lightly. There must be no serious reservations in your heart or soul. Can you do this?"
McQueen nodded slowly. "Yes, sir. I can." He met Charles' gaze steadily.
"Good. I knew you were made of the right stuff." Charles resumed walking.
Glancing at Charles, McQueen asked, "Out of curiosity, am I allowed to reject a vow?"
"Yes. But you will be asked why. If your answer is deemed worthy, then the ceremony will continue. You may also state a reservation, after you've answered a question."
"Hakur and Jalke will judge either?'
"Yes."
"And how would Glen know where to continue or not?"
"Don't forget that Hakur and Jalke are active participants in this world. They will let him know if he is to stop the ceremony." Charles shook his head briefly. "I seriously doubt you'll have to worry about it."
The gazebo came into view as they rounded a last corner around a hedge. Every available inch of the trellis bloomed with flowers of so many types he only recognized a handful: roses, ivy, purple violets, blue hyacinth, and both lavender and white heather. Large enough to house a small chamber orchestra and audience, the interior now held a small dais on the lake side and a hundred chairs. Passing under the arch, McQueen did a double take.
"Are those wheat sheaves?"
"Yes. All the flowers have been chosen carefully for their symbology." Charles reached over and touched a stem that had a pyramid of tightly gathered, small blue flowers on the upper twelve inches. "This is the veronica plant. It represents fidelity. The purple violet means faithfulness. It would probably be the flower of the Marine Corps if they used flowers." He smiled at McQueen. "All our hopes and good wishes are represented here. Courage, bravery, fidelity, faithfulness, strength, challenge, admiration, protection, virtue, devotion, and many, many examples of love."
"Good God, Ty! Here I thought no one could look better than I do." Grinning, Ross stepped into the gazebo from the lake side. "We're almost two birds of a feather." A black tuxedo with the same lacy ivory shirt showed off Ross' body. The main difference lay in the cummerbund; his was blood red. "This is certainly going to be the wedding to remember."
"Wait until you see the others. The girls will knock your socks off."
"Given what I've seen of the women so far, I believe it. Did you see Rhonda?"
"Yes. Took me a second to recognize her."
Ross chuckled ruefully. "I'll admit when I saw her in that dress, I was ready to get her out of it. Damn the ceremony." His eyes twinkled with suppressed lust.
"I'm glad you didn't." McQueen glanced around. "So, Charles, how does this go?"
"You and Glen will stand here." Charles walked over to the dais. "Glen, you have the book?"
"Yes. It's on the railing there." Ross pointed to a section of railing by the dais. "Figured that way I wouldn't drop it."
Charles nodded. "Ok. Glen, your spot is here where I am standing." He stood at the back of the dais, centered in the opening toward the lake. He pointed to his left. "T.C., you stand there. Lysa, when she comes, will be to your left. She will be escorted by Cassie and myself. Behind her will come the rest of the bridal party. Half will stand behind Lysa, the others behind you. While Lysa is coming in, the audience will perform a song of supplication. You don't have to join in. Glen will begin the ceremony. He will alternate between the two of you. When the questions have been answered, then the consort rings shall be brought forward. You may kiss Lysa. There will be a song of rejoicing, during which you may go leave for the reception inside. After you've endured an hour at the reception, it is permissible to leave." Charles grinned. "And we will see you on your return."
While they had been speaking, guests had started to fill the seats.
Ross said, "Looks like it won't be long now."
Glancing at his timepiece, Charles laughed. "Five minutes exactly. Just enough time to brief everyone once more."
As Charles left the gazebo, McQueen looked out at the lake. "What are your plans after this? Are you staying here or going home or somewhere else?"
"Rhonda's parents are watching the kids, so I think I'll take up Charles' offer for the night. Then maybe go a few places we've been meaning to go, but haven't been able to."
By the time Jake stepped up and said quietly, "Time," McQueen had talked himself into a reasonably calm state of mind.
Ross picked up the book and took his place, opening the book to the marked page.
The audience rose as a single soprano started singing in a language McQueen did not recognize as from on Earth. Other voices joined, cascading over one another in what he realized was a madrigal. As the voices rose and fell, he felt the emotion behind the words; supplication, hope, desire.
He half turned to glance over the audience and saw Cassie walking down the aisle, a bouquet of roses in her hands. Spotting Charles, McQueen shifted his gaze to the figure beside him. His breath caught in his throat. Her hair curled around her throat and ears, framing her face. The single emerald pendant nestled in the hollow of her throat drew his gaze downward. The ivory dress, clinging to her body, shimmered as Lysa walked gracefully. Like the dresses he had seen on Vansen and 'Phousse, her strapless dress lifted, shaped and supported, but it revealed far too much he thought at first. Then as he realized how it enticed him, made him want to grab her, hold her tight and make love to her right there, despite all the people, he knew it was doing exactly what Ruth had intended for it to do to him. With a mental wrench, McQueen pulled his gaze away from Lysa to look beyond her.
Walking in pairs were Vansen and Hawkes carrying pillows with something sparkling on them, Damphousse and Wang, Finch and West, Russell and St. John, all beautifully arrayed.
Cassie stopped beside him and he heard her laugh softly. "Close your mouth, Ty," she whispered.
Snapping his jaw shut, McQueen watched Lysa, seeing the cat-like grace she disguised so often.
She came to a stop on the other side of Cassie, giving him a pleased smile. "Hi, Ty."
His "Hi," came out strangled.
The audience fell silent.
"Hakur and Jalke, we call upon you to witness this event," Ross called out. He paused, then looked out at the audience. "Be seated please." As the audience obeyed and Cassie walked to a spot in front beside her uncles, he continued. "Today we have gathered to witness a glorious event. Two people have decided to join together as consorts. Lysa Gwen Silver and Tyrus Cassius McQueen." A smile curved Ross' lips as he said, "Two people who have at times exasperated us, angered us, scared us, and yet we love them dearly for who they are. So, who sponsors Lysa Gwen Silver as a consort?"
"We do." Charles and Ruth stood.
"Who stands for her family?"
"We do." Cassie and her uncles rose to join Charles and Ruth.
"Who sponsors Tyrus Cassius McQueen as a consort?"
"We do." Gregory and his wife rose, standing hand in hand. Looking at them, McQueen saw their outlines blur until he saw two furred forms who nodded at him. He blinked and saw Gregory and Faith again.
"Who stands for his family?"
"We do." To McQueen's surprise, General MacIntyre and Jill rose.
"Sponsors and family, please be seated." Ross partially closed the book he was reading from, his fingers marking the place. "Before we continue, does anyone present question the rightness of this pairing?"
No one rose.
"The chance shall be given only once more. Anyone who objects to this union, step forth and defend it with your blood."
No one rose to the challenge.
"So be it. Only Hakur, Jalke and the two people standing before me may now stop these proceedings." Ross nodded once, opening the book again. "Lysa, do you love this man?"
"Yes."
"Tyrus, do you love this woman?"
"Yes."
"Lysa, are you willing to retire from the military, give it up completely, in order to have Tyrus?"
McQueen could see her thoughts racing behind her eyes.
Even as she nodded, her "Yes," was firm and full of conviction.
"Tyrus, if she retired, would you still love her?"
"Yes." He added after a second to think, "For it speaks of the depth of her love for me. I could not do less."
Ross nodded. "Lysa, are you prepared to fight side by side with Tyrus to the end of this conflict?"
"Yes. For as long as it takes and beyond."
"Tyrus, are you ready to die for Lysa, here and now?"
Swallowing once, McQueen slowly nodded. "Yes. If it were demanded of me."
"Lysa, are you willing to sell your body and soul for Tyrus' life?"
She straightened further, head high. "Yes. Whatever it takes to keep him alive."
"Tyrus, can you live with the consequences of such an action on Lysa's part?"
He sighed heavily and said, "Yes." Almost reluctantly, he added, knowing he had to be brutally honest, "I would hope that I would not hate her for it and would beg her pardon now if for a time I did so. I would remember why eventually." He saw her nod slightly to him.
"Lysa, can you live with the consequences of his selling his body and soul for you?"
It took her a second to answer. "Yes. I know I would eventually fight my way through the guilt and self hatred to hold my hand out again to him. And I would also ask his forgiveness now if such comes to pass."
He gave her a slight nod and saw her smile briefly.
"Tyrus, do you know and understand the consequences of being a Vrylosian's consort?"
McQueen met and caught Lysa's eyes. "Yes."
"Lysa, are you fully aware of the responsibilities in being a Vrylosian consort?"
"Yes."
"Tyrus, do you agree to becoming Lysa's consort?"
"Yes."
"Lysa, are you prepared to join soul to soul with Tyrus?"
"Yes."
"Tyrus, are you prepared to join soul to soul with Lysa?"
"Yes."
"As the answers given by you both have satisfied Hakur and Jalke, we shall finish this ceremony. Bearers, come forward." Ross gestured to Vansen and Hawkes.
Vansen came to stand beside McQueen while Hawkes did the same with Silver. The cushion each carried was placed on the ground before the two about to be joined.
"Kneel, Lysa, Tyrus."
Sinking to his knees on the cushion, McQueen glanced over at Lysa. Solemn and eyes bright with unshed tears, she knelt, hands clasped before her, looking at him.
"Lift your left hands."
Watching as Lysa brought her left hand up beside her face, McQueen did the same.
"These rings shall serve as visual tokens of what you are about to undertake."
A second ring slid down his finger to nestle against the one he had worn since Lysa had placed it on his finger. He saw Hawkes gently placing a ring on Lysa's finger.
"Let these circlets bind you one to another. Until death shall release you from your vows."
A weight settled on his head and he had an instant to see a silver circlet being placed on Lysa's head by Hawkes before the world spun crazily. He closed his eyes, waiting for it to stop, wondering what was happening.
Warmth enveloped him and he knew it was Lysa's love. Following the love with his mind, he felt her joy, her fears of losing him, and her determination to keep him by her side. He tried to project his love and joy to her.
The link between them dissolved abruptly and he nearly cried out at the loss of her emotions. Opening his eyes, he saw Lysa smiling radiantly at him.
"It is done. Rise, Lysa and Tyrus. Rise as consorts."
Remembering what Charles had said, McQueen held out his hand. She took it and he rose with her, pulling her close. He kissed her, trying to tell her his devotion, love, and desire with it. Dimly he grew aware of the fact that the audience was singing once more, this time joyously. When forced to come up for air, he met her delighted grin with one of his own, realizing that he had pressed her against him and her hands were firmly on his shoulders.
"Ready to go inside?" he asked intently.
"Definitely."
With a laugh, McQueen released his hold and felt her own loosen. They strode down the aisle, hand in hand. He looked over at her and said, "Race you."
The impish look she gave him sent his heart racing. "You're on. Go."
With a growl of frustration, he darted after her. The dress didn't hamper her at all he saw and he certainly enjoyed the view. He stayed behind her until they had almost reached the house. A burst of speed and he had drawn up even with her. Their hands hit the door simultaneously.
Silver laughed. "A tie, love."
Opening the door, he asked, "Do I have to wait until we reach the cabin?"
"No, but you do have to wait at least an hour. Sorry, love, but we just have to wait."
Over his shoulder, McQueen saw the crowd approaching and sighed. "It's going to be one of the longest hours of my life."
"Be sure to eat something. And we both have dances to share."
"Yes."
By the time the hour finished, McQueen felt like one of Rosalyn's strings drawn overly tight. He knew where Lysa was all the time and who she was with, adding to his tension. A surprise of the hour was just how well Vansen danced. She floated in his arms and seemed startled when he praised her dancing. She faltered for just a second before recovering. When he watched her afterward, he was struck by the fact that for a change Vansen did not strike him as a Marine. Instead she appeared as a beautiful woman enjoying herself, something that Damphousse did far more naturally and often.
Throughout the hour, his gaze traveled to Lysa wherever she was. His hunger for her grew as he felt her own hunger for him.
The cake cut and they had parceled out the pieces to the bridal party, Charles nodded toward the door leading further into the house. Gratefully, McQueen smiled and made a beeline for Lysa, talking with Ross and Rhonda.
Without looking over at him, Silver nodded to them both and held out her hand to him. "Let's go," she said as he took it.
"See you in four days, Glen."
"Enjoy yourselves."
In the hall, McQueen asked, "Where?"
"This way."
She led him to an area he hadn't been into before. Through a door and he knew he was in her room. Even as the door shut behind him, he started shrugging out of the tuxedo jacket and kicking off his shoes. "Why haven't you let me in here before?"
"Couldn't risk having you here when I came in. You can look all you like, later." She reached behind her back and the dress started to slide down her body.
"It's not fair," he groaned, undoing the shirt buttons. "You have only the one."
Clad only in the emerald necklace, she stepped out of the dress, leaving it piled on the floor, and ran her hands up his thighs to his chest. "Let me take care of that." Steering him toward the bed, she kissed the portion of his chest he had managed to uncover.
He ran his hand through her hair, breathing in the strawberry smell. "Lysa, I want you so badly. I don't want to wait."
"Just a little longer, Ty, just a little longer." She pushed him down onto the bed, moaning as he started sucking on her breast. Sitting on his thighs, feeling his hardness through the fabric, she caressed his shoulders and neck before bringing her hands around to make him lie down.
As she started to undo the buttons, he growled, "Just tear the damn thing!"
"Now, now, for what it cost, you might as well get some mileage out of it. There'll be other weddings to wear it to."
He groaned at the thought and brought his hands up to knead and tease her nipples. The way she moaned and pressed into his hands as she continued to work on the shirt made him achingly aware of how much he wanted her. "Lysa, I don't care about the clothes!"
She chuckled wickedly, pulling his shirt free of pants and cummerbund. "I can see that." The cummerbund undone, she tossed it aside. Her hands splayed on his smooth hard abdomen, she leaned over to lick his nipples before kissing her way down to where his belly button would have been. She stroked with her hands up and down his sides, thumbs rubbing over his nipples.
Impatient, wanting to repay her for the time at the pool, he tried to roll her onto her back, but found he couldn't budge her.
"Not yet, love. Just a couple more minutes, I promise." Her hands unfastened his pants, sliding the fabric down his thighs and over his knees as she rose onto her knees.
He kicked the pants off, grateful that the underwear had been part of the pants. As she slid her hands under him to knead his buttocks, he reached around her and undid the wrists of his shirt. He ran his hands down her back and pulled her up so he could kiss her. She settled on him so he couldn't enter her and he growled in frustration.
"Ty, listen to me. I want you as hard and fast as you can be." She nibbled his neck, making him arch under her, his hands desperately trying to position her. Bracketing his head so she could look him in the eyes, she said, "I need you to understand this. You can't hurt me, Ty. No matter how hard and fast you are, you won't hurt me."
"Got it. Now, please!"
Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, she slid up enough to free him and moved back down.
His hands clenched convulsively, his back arched, and he moaned as she slammed the length of him into her waiting dampness. Repeatedly she did it, the necklace swinging back and forth between them, until he grabbed her by the waist and rolled over on top of her. Harder then he had ever dared to, he thrust into her and was rewarded by her legs wrapping around his waist. He set a furious pace, her hands stroking near his neck nipple, reveling in the way she matched his every thrust, feeling her pleasure increase second by second.
She cried out, her body shaking under him, and he sank into the depths of her climax, spiraling out with her. He returned to find himself on his elbows over her, breathing hard, face buried in her shoulder, her hands stroking his neck. "What the... hell... was that?" he panted.
"The bond between us. It's at its strongest right now. By tomorrow night, it'll be reduced to where we feel most comfortable with it."
"Will I always be so... affected by it when we make love?" He lifted his head to look at her.
"No."
"Good." He kissed her, enjoying the feel of her hands on his shoulders under the shirt. "Now, it's your turn to just lie there." Moving down between her parted thighs, he used his tongue, tasting their mingled juices, shrugging out of the shirt. As she became more aroused, he felt the increase in her pleasure and understood that he could not hurt her for he would know the instant anything caused the least pain. Slipping fingers inside her, he fought the intensity of the bond, determined to bring her over without dragging him along. He sucked and gently nibbled her clit as her hands grasped his head, fingers working through his sweat-dampened hair. She moaned his name over and over.
Her climax nearly sucked him out with her. He knelt, forehead resting on her thigh, keeping his fingers moving, wanting to send her one more time before he reentered her.
"I've wanted you so damn much, Ty."
"I've been the same way." He rubbed his thumb over her clit and smiled as she pressed up into his hand. "Enjoying yourself?"
"Yes, yes, yes." She reached down and tugged on his short hair. "I need a kiss."
"I can do that." He kissed his way up her body, pausing to lick and tongue her belly button and to pay lavish attention to each breast, leaving them hard and erect.
The desperate edge eased from their kiss and they explored each other's mouth by turns, sucking and nibbling lips and tongues. As her hands stroked both his hard cock and his navel, he shuddered from the intensity of the sensations echoing from her. He ran his hands up her body, kneading her breasts.
Despite how good it felt to have her stroking him, he straddled her hips and gently took her hands, pulling them up to her head. "I'm going to love you, Lysa. Just lie there and enjoy."
"As if I'd do anything else?" She stretched then lazily caressed his cheek."I'm all yours."
With his hands and mouth, he explored her body, reacquainting himself. It didn't take long for her to writhe under him, bucking hard as he slipped a few fingers into her wet center. Her orgasm rocked through them both, leaving him trembling beside her with the strength of it.
He rolled onto his back when she pushed him over. "Are you feeling this too?"
"Most definitely."
Her tongue licked his throat and he knew she intended to drink from him this time. "Do we have to leave?"
"If we stay, we'll have interruptions." She rubbed his navel lightly.
Fists clenching in the bed covers, he moaned as fire seared through his nerves. "All right, bad idea. We better go soon then."
"Sounds like an idea." She kissed him before returning to his throat. "How about on your knees, love?"
He nodded and shifted so he knelt on the bed while she stood over him. Unable to resist, he pulled her close and buried his face between her thighs. Pulling his face away, she smiled at him, " No love, not this time, now it's your turn."
Watching his face, she slowly lowered herself to her knees, sliding her body down his, feeling the heat of his skin, the tremble in his knees as her breasts slipped past his face, the way his mouth opened as if to take a nipple in, but instead a small gasp slipped out as her hot center rubbed against his hard cock.
"Lysa, " he whispered barely able to speak.
"Shhh. Don't speak, just enjoy." She touched a finger to his lips. Bending her head to his neck, she began to lick and nibble her way from his ear to his collarbone, holding him close to her with an arm firmly wrapped around his waist, pressing his hardness to her.
He could barely stay on his knees, desperate to push her down, to feel her underneath him. His hands wandered over her body, kneading her buttocks, running gently up her spine, tangling themselves in her hair.
As she felt his knees give way, she gently lowered him to the bed, and continued her way down his body, stopping to tend to each nipple, sucking it, swirling her tongue around, nipping it, to bring it to tight hardness as he squirmed beneath her.
She moved back up to kiss him, sucking his eager tongue into her mouth, tasting herself on him, enjoying the feel of him eagerly tasting her. Knowing that he was desperate to make love to her, made her slower. She wanted him to relax, to take it slow and leisurely.
Breaking the kiss, her tongue again began a slow circuit of his throat and neck, moving lower, to once again lick his nipples as she passed, licking small circles on his chest, as she moved across his smooth stomach to his hips, nibbling in the hollows of his pelvis, holding him down as he thrust himself upwards, but turning her head to lick the length of his cock, making him stuff his hand into his mouth to stop the scream that threatened.
Slowly she parted his thighs, spreading his legs. She lowered her mouth to his inner thighs and again began to lick in slow gentle circles up to his cock which quivered in anticipation, smiling. She gave it another long slow lick and then bent her head to take his testicles into her mouth, rolling them around, sucking on them, as he moaned and writhed on the bed.
Enjoying watching him, she finally began to work on his cock, licking it in long strokes from base to tip, swirling her tongue around the tip and sucking gently on it, taking it completely into her mouth, sucking him hard making him buck, and then starting again with the long slow licks.
As she felt his orgasm approaching, she nibbled her way back to his mouth, once again plunging her tongue into his receptive mouth. She pulled him on top of her and he needed no more encouragement. Holding her down he slipped easily inside her, and began to thrust with all his might.
She grabbed his hips stopping him. " Slowly, my love, slowly."
Robbed of coherent speech, he simply nodded, and began to slow his thrusts, lifting her legs to his waist. Obligingly she wrapped them around him, forcing him to slow his thrusts, as he couldn't fully withdraw, but matching them with thrusts of her own. She kept him to slow thrusts as long as she could, her hands running up and down his back, tracing the outlines of the many scars she found there.
Finally, his orgasm upon him, he began to thrust faster, all rational thought deserting him as he lost himself in the moment, all he could focus on was the feel of her, the way she smelt, the way she made him feel. As it crashed over him, he collapsed on top of her, his body shuddering, his limbs jerking as he lost all muscle control, for a moment or two.
Having fought being dragged along with him through the bond, she held him close, arms wrapped around him until he regained control. She continued to hold him in her arms, stroking his forehead and whispering nonsense to him, until his breathing returned to normal and he could finally speak.
"And now you want me to hike?"
Laughing, she shoved him to the side and rose, holding out a hand to him. "By the way, lovely body art."
He groaned. "I can explain... I think."
"Don't worry about it. At least you had enough wits about you to keep it from being personal." She kissed him once more, running a hand over the tattoo. "I had some of your clothes brought here so you could dress."
"Good, because I'm not getting back into that... thing if I can help it." He swayed slightly and sank back onto the bed, head in his hands. "Damned enjoyable, but that was a workout."
Tossing his clothes on the bed, she offered her wrist to him. He drank several times and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. When he looked up at her a moment later, he smiled. "Much better. I think I can handle that hike now."
"I hope so. I have a lovely dinner planned."
"And I know what is on the menu for dessert." He reached out and pulled her down into his lap. Kissing her, he held her close. "You're mine now, Lysa."
"And no one else's."
Next : Chapter Nineteen
Previous : Chapter Seventeen
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