SPOILER : To those of you that beat the game I am well aware of the ending, and the established canon of Booker & Elizabeth's relationship. So, if you can't see these characters outside of canon or incest makes your uncomfortable please don't read! I loved the game and everything about it. However, for me personally these characters do not come across as father and daughter very well. I still see them in a "When Harry Met Sally" context. Anyway, this story was partially inspired by Doll Diablolique's "Another Dark Night In Columbia." I was intrigued by the idea of how Booker and Elizabeth would interpret their relationship after becoming sexual for the first time. I have never written a fan fiction before, but here it is! All apologies for any grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it! ;)
*Update-This chapter is a stand alone one shot. So, just enjoy it for what it is. The chapters that follow after this one go together and are part of the same story. I am also planning on re-writing the ending of the game.
*THIS CHAPTER (CHAPTER ONE) IS A ONE-SHOT AND IS NOT STORY RELATED WITH THE OTHER CHAPTERS*
"I bear my skin and count my sins and I close my eyes and take it in" Imagine Dragons, "Bleeding Out"
When the sunrise came it was only a pale finger of light that fell across Elizabeth's dreaming face. Long dark eyelashes fluttered as she slowly opened her eyes. Her gaze was immediately confronted with Booker's rugged, but still sleeping profile. He lay there next to her mostly naked with the exception of his under shorts. Blushing, a small smile crept across Elizabeth's face.
She was eye level with Booker's chest, and he still had an arm draped around her tiny waist as he slept. As she watched the steady rise and fall of his breathing Elizabeth wondered if she should wake him up. Crestfallen, her smile evaporated into a frown when she noticed the ugly purplish blue bruise that decorated Booker's side. If they encountered another Handyman again, it would be all too soon Elizabeth thought warily. She decided to let him sleep. They had so few moments were they could really rest, and he would need all his strength to get them to Comstock House. So would she, Elizabeth suspected, steeling herself for what God only knew lie ahead of them.
Elizabeth very carefully extracted herself from Booker's arms, and quietly slipped out of the bed. She tip toed her way to the restroom, the balls of her feet noiselessly traversing the polished mahogany floor. After using the toilet, she washed her hands with a bar of soap and just a trickle of cold water, again being mindful of any sound she made. In the hazy grayness of the wash room Elizabeth glanced at her reflection. Once she got over the initial shock of seeing her brown hair only fall to her chin instead of past her shoulders, Elizabeth smoothed it down with her hands, and then self-consciously adjusted the ribbons that held her chemise together. The silk undergarment was strapless and had ribbon sown into the top half which had to be pulled and tied together to keep it on. It really was a silly thing, but it was perfectly camouflaged underneath her corset and petticoats. Most importantly it saved her delicate skin from accidentally being rubbed raw by the corset's boning.
This took all of ten seconds, and yet she lingered at the restroom door, her heartbeat accelerating ridiculously fast. Elizabeth nervously toyed with the thimble on her pinky. She shook her head in dismay. She didn't know why she cared to fix herself. After what had happened between her and Booker last night, why did she feel nervous all of a sudden at the thought of opening the door and finding him awake? Why was she self-conscience now? Was it because their clothes were still on when it happened? Was there much of a difference between physical relations with your clothes on as supposed to off when the outcome was essentially the same?
Elizabeth took a deep breath and tried to banish those thoughts from her mind. She gently pushed the door open, and was ashamed that she caught herself cringing when the door squeaked. But, Booker was just as she left him. Sound asleep, in fact she didn't think he even moved at all. Breathing a sigh of relief Elizabeth gingerly walked across the room, pausing by a large chair with green velvet cushions. It was still dark in the room, but she could make out the shape of her clothes lying across its plush arms. Hmm, she wondered if she should get dressed. Would that be wrong? She didn't want Booker to think that she regretted what happened between them. On the contrary it was quite wonderful. But, she also wished that she didn't feel so nervous. Back and forth her wide blue eyes went from her clothing to Booker. Instinctively she crossed her arms, as she thought, one hand occasionally lifting up to press against her lips or hold her chin in contemplation.
The breeze coming in from the window was chilly, and Elizabeth could feel goose flesh crawling up her arms.
Her brows furrowed together, I'm being silly, she thought. Decision made, Elizabeth quickly crawled back into bed. She nestled herself underneath the covers and was immediately grateful for the warmth that was already there. Maybe she should go back to sleep? Ha, who was she kidding? Elizabeth knew she was feeling too high strung at the moment to ever fall back asleep.
She sat up a little, crossed her arms, and sighed looking at Booker's unconscious body. It suddenly occurred to her that she'd never seen Booker look as vulnerable as he did just then. During their time in Columbia they would alternate taking twenty minute cat naps to try and conserve their energy, but Elizabeth never truly saw Booker as completely dead to the world as he did then. Lost in deep sleep, Booker's eye lashes fluttered. He's probably dreaming, Elizabeth thought. Again she found herself drawn to the ugly bruise that was blossoming just underneath Booker's skin. Magnetic force field aside, he was extremely lucky his ribs weren't broken. But, she didn't like seeing his full weight resting on his injured side. She would have to roll him over.
At first she just gently touched his face to see if he would stir. The back of Elizabeth's hand stroked Booker's stubbly unshaven jawline, her little fingers tracing the handsome, but hard lines of his face. Down they went over the slight bump on his nose that bespoke of it being broken more than once; brushing the tiny crow's feet at the corner of his eyes, and the creases in his forehead. And yet Booker still didn't wake. Must be a deep sleeper, she mused.
Gradually more light was filtering into the room, and the pale ray that woke Elizabeth only moments ago grew to an orange swath that illuminated Booker's chest. It was then that her hands started to shake.
So many scars…
There were pale white circles that dappled his biceps and shoulders like cruel freckles, the remnants of bullet holes. His chest looked like a Vox Populi cipher of what she could only guess where stab wounds from knives or swords, or maybe both.
People lie with their words all the time, but the body does not lie. The stories that it tells can be subtle, how much a person eats, how much a person exercises, how they groom themselves, mostly mundane things. Booker DeWitt's body told Elizabeth more stories than mere words ever could. His scars were poignant reminders of who he was, a hard and damaged man. Sometimes sleep can transform the way people appear, often times they look innocent and vulnerable. Watching Booker sleep he was vulnerable in a way Elizabeth had never seen, but he was far from innocent.
Gently, Elizabeth placed her hands on Booker's chest. As she was rolling him onto his back, her thimble pressed into his skin. The cold and hard feeling of metal on flesh was something that Booker knew intimately. It was a feeling he associated with death.
Before his eyes were even fully opened, his body was already in mid lunge. Elizabeth let out a startled breath as Booker's weight overwhelmed her, pinning her small frame underneath him. He moved with all the efficiency of a predator, fast and brutal. Before she had time to call out to him he had both of her arms firmly griped in one hand, while his other pressed against her sternum.
"Booker!" she cried.
At the sound of her voice his eyes flew wide open.
Once they made eye contact, recognition and shame flooded through him like adrenaline.
"Shit!" he cursed.
The crushing pressure blessedly lifted from her chest, and suddenly her hands were free from Booker's vice like grip. Elizabeth was left staring at the ceiling. She rose on her elbows and sat up. Booker was sitting as far away from her as possible with his back against the head board. He rubbed his eyes, stopping to grip the bridge of his nose between his fingers as if he had the worst headache in the world. His eyes snapped open. It took all the self-control he had, which granted wasn't very much to keep himself from screaming at her. "Jesus Christ, Elizabeth…"Booker's voice sounded angrier to him than he wanted it to be so he abruptly stopped talking.
The morning light played across his broad chest and shoulders emphasizing the ugly scars that marked him. Cold sweat beaded his forehead, and the wiry muscles in his forearms sang with tension. Half of Booker's face was hidden in shadow, but Elizabeth could still feel the heat of his gaze, cat green and feral. Fink was right to call him a lion, Elizabeth thought. Even though his words felt like sand paper on an open wound, Elizabeth couldn't find it in her heart to be upset with him. In fact she felt a little guilty, like somehow she had been caught reading a private journal that her eyes were never meant to see.
She bravely locked eyes with him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
Unconsciously, Booker looked at her up and down. His eyes stopping at certain points, those damn sincere eyes of hers that could drown a man, a sensual mouth, the lace choker around her neck. He suddenly was aware that his groin was throbbing. He hated mornings. Ignoring it he said, "Well you scared the shit out of me," with a gruff, but sarcastic lit, trying to make an effort to lighten the mood.
Simultaneously, both Elizabeth and Booker realized that her slip had bunched up around her waist, leaving her sex and slender legs exposed. She blushed and the tension between them sky rocketed. Booker ran his hands through his hair, and Elizabeth tried to casually pull the cloth down; a valiant effort on their parts, but as futile as someone trying to hide behind a single blade of grass.
She gave him a shy smile, "must have been some dream."
"Hmm," was all the reply that she was going to get, but Booker liked to see her smile. It made him feel better. When she had adjusted herself, he noticed the red marks on her wrists where he grabbed her. They stuck out prominently against her fair skin, and the sight of them filled him with guilt.
Booker fought off the blind urge to put his fist through a wall. Shit, where's a bottle of whiskey when you need it? He thought bitterly. This was how he functioned, trapped in a vicious cycle of burying his guilt with anger or drinking until he blacked out. But, sadly at the moment he had no booze, and he didn't quite feel desperate enough to break his own hand in front of Elizabeth.
"Hey, are you ok?" he asked tentatively.
Booker wasn't the easiest man to read, unlike Elizabeth he had years of interacting with other people to learn how to hide his emotions. His face may have been well schooled, but however his voice sounded like gravel, and Elizabeth could read the tension in his hands; hands that could strum a bitter sweet melody on a guitar just as well as kill. They both knew which one he did best.
But, he still was her protector fighting to set her free, and Elizabeth felt certain that after all they had been through she had come to mean more to him than just a means to an end. After smoothing down her undergarments she crawled towards him. She sat next to Booker with her back to the head board, mirroring him. "I'm fine," Elizabeth told him. She sat close, but not too close. Like taming a wounded animal she waited for him to come to her.
Booker was a creature of the moment. It's where he functioned best, so he swallowed down the guilt like shards of glass. "Let me see." It wasn't exactly a request, but it wasn't a demand either. Those three words existed in a strange place in between harmless affection and salacious innuendo. Morally gray, just like their relationship.
Elizabeth turned towards him offering Booker her wrists, and she thought she saw a flash of anger in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly she wondered if she saw it at all.
Booker took her small hands in his big ones gently rubbing her wrists with his thumbs, wishing the redness away. Wishin' don't do much good, he thought resentfully. This wasn't how he would want her to think of him.
"Just what were you doing anyway?"
"Well, it's just your side..."she stammered a little, looking at the large bruise on his rib cage.
"Yeah, what about it?" he asked casually.
His thumbs were sending tiny tremors through her arms, and Elizabeth felt like her heart weighed a thousand pounds.
"You were asleep on your side, and I thought it would be better if you didn't have your full weight on it. So…." She felt his calloused fingers grasp her chin now.
"So I tried to roll you on your back, without waking you up," she finished good naturedly, refusing to let the tremor in the back of her throat creep into her voice.
Booker lifted her face, so she looked him in the eye. Elizabeth swallowed. He was barely touching her, and he saw that her skin was already flushed. Strong fingers held her chin captive. He considered her mouth, passing his thumb lightly across her lips. He saw them part. Sex itself wasn't a problem; alone it was just an instinctive drive that naturally left you wanting more of it. The problem with sex between friends was that like violence, once you saw someone that way you could never ever un-see it no matter how hard you tried.
If he didn't kiss her soon Elizabeth felt like she would explode in anticipation, and she quickly grew impatient waiting for him. Without thinking she leaned in closer, and her mouth crashed into his.
Booker kept his lips closed, trying in vain to keep the kiss relatively chaste, but Elizabeth was insistent. She laced her fingers around his neck and only pulled him closer. The very moment he breathed in, and smelled that faint scent of vanilla was when he felt her tongue slip past his teeth. God dammit, he thought. Kissing her back Booker forced his tongue into Elizabeth's mouth. I am so going to hell. Not like he wasn't already. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound as they say.
Elizabeth's heart skipped a beat when Booker's tongue met hers. It was a slow, wet, and ferocious exchange. She felt completely boneless in his arms, like a flower blooming in the heat of the sun. So it was easy for Elizabeth to find herself straddling Booker's lap, hips pressed into his, her clitoris throbbing against the pressure of his erection not remembering how she got there.
The cloth from his bandaged hand pressed into her flesh as Booker's hands torturously glided up her chemise, pausing every so often to gently, but firmly grip her calves and thighs. Elizabeth moaned tipping her head back, exposing her vulnerable throat. His mouth was hot and wet against her skin leaving a trial of fire from her neck all the way down to her collar bones.
Elizabeth's pulse was racing underneath his lips. Booker tasted lace and salt as his tongue flicked over her throat. Her flesh was so soft and warm, he wanted more of it. He wanted to fill his mouth with it. So when his tongue reached the top of the silk that separated his mouth from her skin he pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. A draft came in from the window with cold fingers trailing down Elizabeth's back making her shiver. Her eyes widened for a moment, realizing that she was completely naked. It had happened so fast. Booker saw the look on her face as Elizabeth tried to come to terms with this, and immediately pulled her towards him.
She was enveloped in his warmth, as he kissed away her self-consciousness. One hand cupped a breast while the other rested in the small of her back, holding her tight against him. The corset she wore had given her a more voluptuous appearance, but that was the entire function of the garment to lift the chest and minimize the waist. So her breasts were proportionally smaller to match her delicate frame, but they were exceptionally firm and silky to touch. As his tongue slithered down to her breasts, he got great pleasure from feeling her nipples harden in his mouth.
At this point Elizabeth's breathing was becoming ragged, and the throbbing between her legs was increasing. Her nerves were electrified wherever Booker touched her, his hungry mouth strangely gentle in comparison to the brutal way his hands dug into her flesh. Then he would suddenly switch to soft barely there caresses, and then his mouth would become the aggressor with teeth nipping her skin. It was intoxicating as well as confusing. She had no idea what Booker was doing to her, but she liked it. She was on the line of sensory overload when her whole body arched, sending her backwards. Both of Booker's arms were now cradling her back to support her, and the way she grinded into him made his shorts uncomfortably tight. Moving over her, Booker switched them from a sitting position to lay her supine on the bed. With lightning speed he maneuvered out of his constricting shorts, pausing to loom over her.
Elizabeth saw that he was large and engorged with blood, and she braced herself for what was to come. He gently pressed himself upon her. Elizabeth's legs were already open and welcoming, but he continued to kiss her ravenously; from her mouth, to her breasts, and down to her flat abdomen. She was expecting him to enter her like last night, but that wasn't happening. Her whole body ached for release, as she rose up on her forearms panting "where are you going?"
Booker looked up at Elizabeth, her innocence was endearing. He gave her a small wicked smile, and said "trust me." So she did. Elizabeth lay back down and tried to relax, shuddering when she first felt the touch of his tongue parting her lips. Oh…He kissed her sex like he kissed her mouth, and the sinuous way he did it reminded her of a big cat lapping water. She was pretty sure that whatever he was doing was improper, but she never wanted him to stop. At first Elizabeth could only lie there trembling, but soon she found her hips moving forward to meet his mouth.
Tasting, he slowly ran his tongue over her. She was sweet like a very ripe peach, but underneath that was the metallic bite of blood from where he had ripped her open the night before. He pulled the skin of her pubic mound up. Booker held it taut with his fingers, exposing her sensitive clitoris. When he passed the tip of his tongue over it, he was rewarded with a loud moan from Elizabeth.
She could feel herself growing wetter and wetter as Booker's mouth and her sex fell into a rhythm together. His bandaged hand grasped her buttocks, calloused palms sinking into flesh. The moans escaping her mouth were growing more frequent. Her eyes squeezed closed, as Elizabeth grinded her lips against Booker's stubble. His saliva and her fluids mingled together, and she felt them slowly trickling down her backside. Booker's lips caressed her throbbing vulva like burning velvet, and when he swirled his tongue over her opening Elizabeth gripped the bed sheets with both hands, groaning.
Booker eased a finger inside her, and almost immediately the walls of her sex contracted around it, squeezing. Her growing excitement was contagious, and Booker found himself moaning as well. Another finger slipped inside her, and Elizabeth's hips gradually moved faster. His tongue deftly stroked her inside and out. She was amazed that nothing was hurting at all, even his stubble against her swollen lips felt good. Elizabeth revealed in the ecstasy of Booker's fingers slowly moving in and out of her. Her whole body was shaking from the tension. Booker could feel her climax building, his sensual mouth sucking her lips while he worked her clitoris with flicks of his tongue. When he stroked her from the inside with his fingers, she whimpered, "Please, please, please." He increased the pace and pressure of his fingers. The feeling of his mouth and hands was overwhelming her. At last, pleasure spread through her body from the groin outward. Booker heard Elizabeth cry out as a rush of hot fluid filled his mouth.
Elizabeth felt like her whole body had shattered into a thousand glorious little pieces as her orgasm took her. She was still panting, and her thighs still quivered with pleasure when Booker rose from his position between her legs. Booker was on his knees straddling her waist. He ran the back of his hand over his mouth, and stared at Elizabeth underneath him. She looked up at him with a serene face. Booker knew exactly what he wanted, he only wondered if it would overwhelm her being as inexperienced as she was.
Elizabeth studied his shape, her eyes taking in all of him. His eyes were still dark with desire, yet he did nothing. So, in her naiveté she misinterpreted Booker's hesitation for insecurity. Eager to show him that he made her feel wonderful, she wiggled out from underneath him and hugged him tightly. The scars felt harsh against her skin, but she drank in all these little nuances with pleasure. Booker was rough and hard. The only soft spot on his body was his mouth, and even that was surrounded by bristly stubble. But, this only made Elizabeth hold onto him tighter.
Her nipples poked into Booker's chest as she pressed her otherwise soft and supple body into him. She was so open and sincere; guilt was beginning to dampen his ardor. When his arms relaxed around her waist, Elizabeth kissed him. Her lips moved hungrily over his, just as he had done the same to her. Elizabeth put everything she had into it, wanting him to know how he made her feel. Booker felt blood rush to his groin again, and he helplessly groaned against Elizabeth's kiss. He wanted his cock in her mouth in the worst way, but Booker didn't want to intimidate her either. He probably had already scared her enough.
Booker held her against him and fell back into the bed. He pulled Elizabeth on top of him as he made out with her, lightly running his fingers in her hair. There, he thought. She can do whatever she wants to at her own pace without him feeling like an aggressive jack ass.
The reversal caught Elizabeth off guard, but not unpleasantly. She liked hovering over him, it reminded her of when they had washed up on the beach of Battle Ship Bay; could that have been only a day or two ago? It felt like decades. But, this time when she reached out to him, he wasn't pushing her away.
Her delicate hand touched his face, and Booker felt the cool metal of her thimble run across his cheek before her lips descended upon him again. Booker enjoyed feeling her up as he caressed her breasts, arms, thighs, and buttocks.
When his fingers rested in the small of her back, tremors went up Elizabeth's spine. Slowly becoming aroused again she rubbed her sex against his cock. Booker felt her wet lips run up and down his shaft, and he groaned low and guttural in her ear. Up to that point Elizabeth's hands had only lay across his shoulders and arms, but now they ran along the muscles in his chest. She felt the beat of Booker's heart underneath her hands. Fascinated, she placed her ear to his chest using it has her guide. Elizabeth quickly noticed that the lower her hands went the faster Booker's heart raced.
When her hand reached the crest of Booker's narrow hip bone, Elizabeth could practically feel the beat of his heart against his skin. Pleased, her hand went lower and lower until she was holding his erection in her hands. The corners of Booker's mouth tugged into an unexpected smile, this was the insatiably curious girl he had come to know. He was hard and stiff, but encased in soft thin skin. Intrigued Elizabeth gripped his base and squeezed. She couldn't reach her hand all the way around his girth, but she still made him moan.
Now, as inexperienced as she was Elizabeth was a very smart girl. She liked puzzles and figuring things out. From his heavy breathing, Elizabeth could see that she made him feel good by stroking him in her hand. And from what he just did to her, the details that were never mentioned in any of the books she had read begun to coalesce in her mind.
Curious, she tentatively licked his chest, gliding her tongue along uneven scar tissue. The way he gasped and suddenly grabbed a fistful of her hair told Elizabeth that his body, like hers was just as sensitive to her mouth as well as her hands. Encouraged, she planted delicate kisses all over his chest and stomach. Booker moaned. Her mouth on his skin was so light it felt like a dozen butterflies had landed on him. At first she pressed her lips into his shaft, than ran her tongue along the length of him. Her touches were hesitant, sweet, and torturous. Booker behaved himself by trying not to move too much, and just allowed her to explore him with her mouth. Elizabeth found that kissing him this way wasn't unpleasant. It was just different, and perhaps a bit awkward. She wrapped her lips around the tip of him, licked, and tasted something salty.
When Elizabeth put the head of his cock in her sweet mouth, Booker instinctively held her there when she tried to pull back. She felt his hands on the back of her neck, pressing her head down. Her mouth opened wider as gradually more and more of him filled her mouth. She couldn't take all of him inside her, not without choking. So when Booker felt the muscles in the back of her neck stiffen he stopped pressing her head down, but he didn't let go of her either.
His fingers tangled in her hair as he lifted Elizabeth's head as gently as he could. It was easy. She didn't resist. He glided out of her mouth completely, before pressing her down over him again. They continued like that for a while, his hands guiding her head along the length of him. It didn't take very long for Elizabeth to catch on, and soon he didn't have to lead her anymore.
She moved her head up and down, taking him in and out of her mouth. As she did this, Elizabeth supported the weight of her head in one hand, while the other hand worked his shaft. Her thimble pressed into sensitive flesh as she squeezed, and it was Booker's turn to tremble pleasure. Watching her only aroused him even more. The hairs on his arms stood up, and Booker could feel his excitement begin to culminate. He raised his upper body into more of a sitting position to see her better. Watching Elizabeth work him with her mouth and hand made him moan loudly. This time when he reached for her his hands were not gentle as he entwined his fingers in her fine hair. She had teased him long enough, and he was at the breaking point, where there was nothing left of him but raw need. The slow and steady pace that Elizabeth had established became more and more frantic as Booker's hands gripped her scalp, mercilessly forcing her head down faster.
As he pushed his cock further and harder into her mouth Elizabeth could barely keep up, so she just concentrated on trying to breath around him. Booker pumped his hips furiously, gasping for air. He could feel himself on the cusp of his pleasure, but he needed something else to push him over the edge. Booker wanted, no, needed to feel this happen. His bandaged hand suddenly closed over hers in a vice like grip. He squeezed hard. The sensation of simultaneously being inside of her mouth and feeling her small hand around him was enough to send him spiraling into the abyss. A long throaty moan escaped Booker's lips as he felt his climax surge through his hand and into Elizabeth's mouth.
Booker's hand still held her captive, forcing Elizabeth to swallow the hot salty fluid that suddenly invaded her mouth. His cum didn't necessarily taste bad or bother her, but the sheer force and amount of it did take her by surprise. Elizabeth fought against her own gag reflex so she wouldn't end up embarrassing herself. When he saw the muscles in her throat work downwards, breathing heavily, he released her and collapsed backwards into the bed sheets. Feeling her soft tongue slide against him as he withdrew made him tingly all over. To his dismay, Booker saw that he was still mostly erect. His body ached, and even after all that his erection wasn't about to go down any time soon. Booker made an exasperated noise, burying his face in his hands.
He could hear Elizabeth clear her throat.
"Booker?" she spoke softly.
He dropped his hands and watched her svelte body crawl on top of him. She looked a little concerned, her blue eyes staring into his. Booker affectionately brushed a lock of hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. His hands lightly rubbed her arms and legs leaving goose flesh in their wake. She sighed and lay on top of him, resting her head on his shoulder.
Booker licked his hand and started rubbing it against her. He placed two fingers inside of her as his thumb massaged her clitoris. She was still very wet, and he could hear her softly moaning in his ear. Her breath felt hot against his face. Lifting herself up, she gave him a sensual kiss. Booker removed his hand when she began rubbing her sex into him. Instead he placed his hand around his erection maneuvering it towards her opening. Gasping, Elizabeth stroked her lips across his head. Booker rocked his hips forward to penetrate her. Elizabeth slowly lowered herself onto him, swallowing him inch by inch. She still winced ever so slightly at the tearing sensation inside, but it was better than last night.
Booker moaned as her lips surrounded him, he was already throbbing inside of her. God, she was so tight, and very, very, hot…in and out he went. Her nails dug into his shoulders as Elizabeth grinded her clitoris into him, and he grabbed her ass with both hands in response. As they found a pleasurable rhythm together they sweated as if they had a fever, skin hot and burning. A thought strangely floated into Booker's mind. Fink didn't know shit, this was Devil's Kiss…his hands squeezing Elizabeth's flesh unbidden, feeling her sweat pool in the small of her back as she rode him.
Elizabeth's breath was hot on his face. Her kisses became fewer but more desperate as she fought for her breath. She was still growing accustomed to the cycle of arousal and release. Growling with pleasure, Booker felt her lips spasm even tighter around him. Tiny tremors shook Elizabeth's thighs, her orgasm imminent, and Booker licked his fingers coating them with saliva. He reached around to play with her backside. Seeing Booker lick his own hand, unexpectedly made her want him even more. Groaning, tighter and tighter she squeezed. She cried out when Booker pushed his index and middle finger up through the tight pucker of her anus. He slid them in and out of her, and when she began to climax he silenced her screams with a kiss. Feeling him inside of her everywhere, drove her mad and purged any shred of self-consciousness she could have had left. Elizabeth's fingernails sank viciously into Booker's shoulders, her pelvis grinding against him desperately as he ate her mouth.
"Hold on," he told her, his voice a low throaty growl.
Relieved, Elizabeth felt his fingers slide out of her anus once she wrapped her legs securely around him. Sitting up Booker rolled them over with his erection still buried inside her. Booker's back muscles rippled underneath her hands as he lay on top of her. He pulled out, and then slammed back in all the way to the hilt. The head board rattled against the wall. Shaking, Elizabeth grabbed Booker's hips. Taken by surprise at the satisfaction she felt with his bare buttocks in her hands as he thrust into her.
Booker pulled her hands off of him, kissing them sweetly before he raised her legs into the air. He laid them perpendicular against his chest, changing the angle so he could penetrate her even deeper. Her ass rested against his stomach and he leaned forward placing his weight on his forearms, withdrawing slowly then plunging back into her.
The angle was very intense, and Elizabeth gasped as if he had stolen her breath.
He pulled out, "breath."
She took a deep breath, and exhaled when he entered her again.
"That's it…stay with me," he murmured, his voice a rough whisper.
Booker held her with his gaze, and their eyes remained locked on one another as he plunged himself inside her over and over again. The pace was slow at first, but it predictably accelerated. Elizabeth's legs fell closer to her body, where they eventually rested against the sides of her head as Booker went faster and harder. Their breathing synced together, when Booker inhaled, Elizabeth exhaled. Not once did they look away from each other. It was a very raw and intimate experience for the both of them.
Eventually her legs began to shake violently. She didn't know how much more she could take. Booker read this in Elizabeth's eyes, her thighs telegraphing to him that she was at the threshold of where pleasure became pain. Seeing her that way pleased every part of him. To look down at those pleading rapturous blue eyes, staring at her lithe body completely naked, except for the brooch she wore around her neck that he picked out for her; as she squirmed underneath him gave Booker a heady rush of adrenaline. He courted her on that fine line as long as possible before backing off. Once Booker situated her legs back around his waist he could feel her body relax. He lowered his face to her chest, taking one of her firm breasts into his mouth, his bandaged hand kneading the other. Booker rolled her nipple with his tongue. Whimpering, Elizabeth began to move her hips along with his.
Booker continued thrusting inside of her, and when his head hit her cervix Elizabeth cried out. He felt her lips spasm around his cock squeezing him harder. He hit that tender part of her anatomy again and again, making her scream. Waves of pleasure began to ripple through his body; more, and more, and more. When he finally came, it was sudden and violent. Groaning loudly, Booker sank his teeth into the flesh of Elizabeth's breast as he exploded deep inside her.
Elizabeth moaned with satisfaction pushing past the pain to hold him close, riding out his climax. Even once it had subsided, he continued to lie on top of her. Their bodies were still connected, and they stayed like that for a long time holding each other, catching their breath. Her thighs still quivered, but Elizabeth felt calm with her body intertwined with Booker's. She hummed quietly to herself while she played with his hair. It was brown lightly peppered with gray, and Elizabeth loved running her fingers through it. It was an affectionate gesture, and one that he let himself enjoy; for the moment.
It was already well past dawn, and the room had grown significantly brighter during the time that he and Elizabeth made love. No longer a voyeur at the window; the light of the sun flooded into their space. Booker could feel the heat of its rays on his back, warming his skin. Fuck, he thought rancorously. He knew they needed to get a move on, but Booker found himself feeling reluctant to pull away from Elizabeth.
He was comfortably cocooned in vanilla scented softness, and the thought of leaving her arms bothered him more than it should. Get your shit together Booker, he chastised himself silently. With Elizabeth stroking his hair, feeling the rise and fall of her breath, her voice in his ears, it was just too much…he was drowning in her embrace. If he didn't do something soon he would never get out of this bed.
Like ripping out a loose tooth, Booker abruptly pulled away from her. He rolled on to his back until his feet touched to ground. He sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her, craving a shot of whiskey.
She was left holding nothing but air, and for a moment Elizabeth didn't even flinch. She lay there puzzling over what had just happened. Elizabeth sat up right, casting a side long glance at him, trying to catch a glimpse of his face. She attentively looked for clues in Booker's facial expression, but he stared straight ahead so Elizabeth could only see his profile. She tentatively touched his shoulder.
"Booker, are you…"
But, before Elizabeth could finish the question Booker interrupted her.
"Get dressed, '" he said hoarsely.
Booker's shoulders tensed, but he made himself turn his head to look at her. When Elizabeth looked back at him the disappointment in her face would have crushed a softer man.
"If we're gonna make it to Comstock House and get outta here, we gotta keep movin', he told her after clearing his throat.
"Right," Elizabeth replied softy.
"Ok, just give me a minute. I won't be long," she said.
Booker nodded his head in reply, and when Elizabeth got up to gather her things he didn't watch her. Only when he heard the quiet click of the bathroom door, did he look around.
"Shit," he cursed softly.
The bed was completely destroyed; the pillows and sheets were haphazardly strewn on the floor. Booker raised his arm, scratching the back of his neck. Well, his things had to be buried underneath all of this somewhere.
In the restroom, Elizabeth stood at the wash basin dabbing the sweat, blood, and semen off her body with a wet cloth. She made an effort to do this quickly, but her hands were shaking, making the task somewhat difficult. But, she persevered humming to herself. Once she was done she realized that her chemise had been left in the bedroom. Oh well, Elizabeth thought with a sigh, proceeding to get dressed anyway. Standing in front of the mirror she worked her way from the bottom up. Stockings first, then panties, layers of petticoats, but she stopped once she got to her corset. Elizabeth held the garment in her hands, gazing at herself in the mirror.
Her eyes were wild, and her pale skin glowed. Elizabeth couldn't stop smiling at her reflection when she saw the bright pink circle on her breast. It was just below the areola. Setting her corset down on the sink, she leaned in closer to the mirror inspecting the mark. Elizabeth lifted her breast, and saw that there were tiny speckles of purple intermingled with the pink where Booker's mouth had broken the blood vessels just underneath her skin. Impulsively Elizabeth hugged herself stretching her arms as far as she could reach. She was very flexible, so her hands grabbed at both shoulder blades. Elizabeth took a deep breath; she could still smell him on her skin. Continuing to smile she thought of the teddy bear she once had as a child. Its fur was worn thread bare in places, and it had missing buttons, but it was well loved. That's how Elizabeth felt looking at all the places where Booker had left his mark on her body. So there she stood half naked and humming to herself, feeling elated at this revelation.
While Elizabeth was still in the wash room, Booker flipped pillows and tossed aside blankets gathering up bits of his clothing. He already had his pants and boots on, but he was having some trouble locating the rest of it. His green eyes scanned the room. When finally out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw his shirt. Thinking nothing of it Booker walked over to the edge of the bed lifting it off the floor. His fists tightened around his shirt as he looked down. The bright sunlight was cheerful in the bedroom, a gentle breeze blew in from the window, and Booker thought he could hear birds chirping. But, all of that meant nothing to him. Conflicted, he stared at the stained bed sheets.
They were white with small blue flowers embroidered into them. Flecks of Elizabeth's blood had marred the otherwise pristine surface. Booker felt chills run up and down his spine as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on him. Booker looked over at the bed for the first time this morning, knowing what he would see. But, somehow the knowing didn't prepare him at all for what he felt.
Booker was confronted with a dark red stain in the middle of the bed. It was the color of rust, marking the place where he tore her open, making her bleed for him. Booker wished he could cry, but as much as it felt like he was being shredded apart from the inside the tears wouldn't come.
He whipped his head to the side at the sound of Elizabeth emerging from the bathroom. She was dressed again in the fitted dark blue dress that had made her look so comely. Smiling at him, she stepped out of the door way. The heels of her boots made a familiar clicking sound on the hard wood floor.
"All yours," Elizabeth said.
Booker shrugged into his shirt, adjusting the collar but leaving it unbuttoned. He walked across the room towards her. She was fidgeting with the thimble on her pinky, but she didn't shy away from his gaze when he looked at her.
"Thanks, I'll just be a minute," Booker replied, drowning in her eyes before he shut the door.
He barely looked at his reflection in the mirror. Instead he turned the faucet on full blast making the water as hot as possible. Once the sink was filled to the brim Booker plunged his face into the scalding water, submerging his head. It was suffocating and it felt like his skin was melting off, but he forced himself to keep his head under as long as possible.
When he did finally lift his face out of the sink he was left gasping for air. He shook his head sending burning droplets of water flying everywhere. Grimacing, he gripped the sides of the porcelain basin, learning how to breathe once again. The pain helped. It made him focus. What happened between him and Elizabeth within the last few hours was being carefully compartmentalized. Survive first, worry about the other shit later.
Booker finished cleaning up, and when he opened the door he found his clothes lying on a nearby chair. Elizabeth had already found the rest of his belongings and neatly laid everything out for him. He shook his wet hair out like a male lion would toss its mane. He buttoned his shirt casually glancing over at Elizabeth who leaned against the door, her legs crossed in front of her. She had stopped humming.
One by one he picked up his belongings, and like any good sociopath he methodically arranged them. Elizabeth watched him, and with every piece of clothing that he put on she felt a wall coming up between them.
Booker felt her eyes on him. He looped his belt through his pants, buckling it. Booker returned her gaze, noticing how much she had changed since he first met her. She stood up straighter, and there was a certain hard determination in her eyes that had never been there before. Booker wasn't exactly sure when it had happened, but she became a person in his eyes and not a job. He had tried his best to remain emotionally distant from Elizabeth, but she had crawled underneath his skin and baptized him in her blood.
Elizabeth noticed how Booker kept glancing over to the bed where so much had happened, and yet somehow nothing at all changed between them. She stepped forward, "here."
Energy flowed from her hands as she reached into the fabric of space and time. She pulled and ripped open the tear she saw there. Suddenly, the room transformed and it was perfect again, a different color, but still pristine and untouched.
The hairs on the back of Booker's neck stood on end as he watched Elizabeth pull the tear open. Booker was grateful for her power when they had to fight their way through Columbia. Hell, he'd probably be dead if she wasn't helping him. But despite this, her power always made his skin crawl. Once, twice, a hundred times, it didn't matter how often he'd seen Elizabeth open a tear, Booker never felt prepared for it.
"Hmm," was the only thing Booker could manage to grunt as he looked over at the clean bed. It was like they had never been there at all. If only it were that easy, was what he left unsaid. There were plenty of bad men in the world with blood on their hands, but men like him just didn't have it on his hands. Men like him drown in it. There wasn't a God damn thing he could do about it, but maybe, just maybe if he could win this girl her freedom he'd find a little solace. Booker had no well-meaning delusions on what kind of man he was. He wasn't looking for forgiveness, just a little peace. For him those two things would always remain a double edged sword. All Booker wanted was a scrap of it, because deep down at the core of him he wanted to be able to be say that he did right by somebody for once in his life.
Elizabeth stood near the door ready to open it, leading him back into the madness of the city.
"Comstock House?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Comstock House," Booker repeated back to her.
She bent down and retrieved his shot gun from the floor. "Catch," Elizabeth said, tossing him the weapon. There was a satisfying sound of flesh gripping metal, as Booker caught the shot gun in one hand. He briefly checked it to make sure it was fully loaded, and clicked the chamber closed with a distinctive snap.
"Much obliged," he replied, with a wry smile.
"After you," Elizabeth told him. Opening the door to what God only knew lie ahead of them, but with the exception of one certainty. They would find out together
AN: Updated...the story must go on! The chapters that follow may seem out of order at first, but that's just because visits from the inspiration fairy can be a bit irregular. ;)
*AGAIN CHAPTER ONE IS NOT STORY RELATED TO THE OTHER CHAPTERS!