Like a flame.
That's how Elizabeta Héderváry would describe her love for him.
It danced and swayed; it never kept still. It was unpredictable and hot, yet somehow vital to her life in a roundabout kind of way. She knew that without it, her life would be dark, cold and miserable. So why did she strive to hide it all the time?
The simple answer to that was water. Not actual water, but metaphorical water. When the two of them broke up, it had been like throwing a bucket of water over that flame. Though as we all know, if not extinguished properly, fires can come back. Elizabeta's flame was certainly not extinguished properly on that fateful day, and she knew it. It came back with a vengeance, stong enough so that she had to constantly remind herself why they broke up in the first place. But it didn't work.
All she did was remind herself of the good times, too. The walks in the sunshine, moments spent close to each other, even just the idle chatting they used to do, her good-natured teasing at his lack of physical fitness. But what haunted the Hungarian girl's memory the most were his hands.
As odd as that may seem, that was what she missed about him the most. Those hands with their slender fingers, ever-so-slightly longer than average, just like a piano-player's should be. Those fingers could draw such beautiful sounds from many lifeless instruments. And not only the instruments.
Elizabeta remembered the way he would touch her, eliciting fevourish sounds almost as if he were trying to play her like one of his instruments. She let him, every time she let him. How could she not? He tried to hide it, but she knew just how to get that Germanic blood flowing in his veins to the surface, and delighted in doing it. Purely because that sort of behaviour was not at all like the Austrian she knew.
As she sat quietly, thinking and reflecting yet again on her past, she started to feel quite uncomfortable. This happened almost every time she really sat there and thought about him. Which wasn't often, because she wasn't really the type of person to do that. It was the same uncomfortable feeling she ended up giving herself when she thought about his hands, and the way he could make her...
There she goes again. Normally she'd lock herself in the bathroom for a while, and everything would be fine. She could move on and forget about the whole thing. For a fortnight. But not today. She couldn't let this carry on any longer, it had been too long already. What was she going to do? Go and tell him how she felt. He didn't feel the same way, after all, they had broken up, hadn't they? But she needed to let him know, and maybe his rejection would bring her back to her senses. She just needed to hear it from his lips. His soft, smooth lips...
Somehow, she was there. She'd been so lost in her thoughts, she didn't even realise she was near until she was actually stood in front of the door. Her heart started to batter at the inside of her ribcage, and her palms grew sweaty in her nervousness. And of course there was that lingering uncomfortableness she still felt from earlier.
Summoning every scrap of courage in her body, she took a deep breath, reached forward, and knocked firmly on the door. What was the point in showing her nervousness? She wasn't like that, and never would be. It tok a few seconds, but eventually the door was pulled open.
"Elizabeta." Roderich actually looked surprised to see her there, and that kind of hurt her. This had been her home too, once.
"Roderich." The Hungarian nodded once. "I... I need to talk to you..." She mumbled, her voice failing her slightly.
"Are you in trouble?" There was a hint of worry in the man's voice, and she smiled slightly, glad he still worried about her.
"No..." He looked relieved. "But there are some things I need to get off my chest. A-about you." She cursed herself for stammering. Thatcertainly wasn't like her. He looked at her for a moment, his violet eyes searching her emerald ones for a moment.
"...I know that look." He said after a few moments of silence.
"What look?" She fought down her rising blush. She knew exactly which look he meant. The one he'd induced on her so many times before. Why shouldn't he know it? She was a fool not to let herself cool off before coming here.
"You very well which look I mean, Miss Héderváry." He said, looking at her. She hung her head slightly. That just didn't have the same ring to it as Mrs Edelstein. "Come, there is no point in standing out there all day." She looked up as he retreated inside slightly, allowing her to step in after him and close the door behind her. He led the way through to the front room, but Elizabeta couldn't help noting the small scuffs and marks that were still there.
That dent in the floorboard halfway down the hall that had been there since she had dropped her skillet. That scuff on the wall where she had tripped over an abandoned music book she hadn't seen and tried to stop herself. That nick in the doorframe where she threw a knife her frenemy Natalia had been teaching her to throw, and narrowly avoided slicing Roderich's cheek. And last but not least... The dent on the edge of the coffee table from the one and only time he had been impulsive and took her right then and there on the couch. He had tipped over the table and it had landed on something; but she didn't remember what.
A flush covered her cheeks at that last memory and the uncomfortable feeling returned. So many memories in this house, and so many abandoned hopes and feelings. Roderich followed her gaze to the table, and quickly stood between his ex-wife and the table, folding his arms.
"What is it?" He asked, looking to the side and down at the floor, not meeting her gaze. She stared at her feet fixedly.
"Well... You know sometimes you throw water over a fire and it doesn't completely go out..." She started.
"It's not like you to beat about the bush, Elizabeta." Roderich commented quietly. The Hungarian lifted her gaze and looked at him until his violet orbs locked on hers.
"I still love you." She confessed, grimacing as she waited for his reaction. She bit the inside of her lip as she held her breath.
"Are... Are you sure? It's not just lust? Because that look-" He asked, shaking his head slightly.
"It's both, okay? I just needed to get that off of my chest." She interrupted before turning to leave.
"Elizabeta-"
"I shouldn't have even come. I should have just called you or something."
"Elizabeta."
"I don't know what I was thinking anyway, we split-"
"Liz!" He shouted. She froze. He hadn't called her that since... Before they started falling out. "The moment I signed those papers I wished I hadn't. All these years, all I've wanted was another chance. A chance to make things right. A chance to say that I'm sorry. Because... You don't know what you've got until it's gone."
"Roderich..." The Hungarian knew that was probably the sweetest thing she could pry from him; he never had been the kind of person to say sweet things. Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around him in a hug, closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder. A little uncertainly, he returned her hug, but soon relaxed into it as he remembered what it was like to hold her in his arms.
"Liz..." The two let go of each other and violet eyes locked on green. "... You still have that look." He commented, a small smile curving up his lips. She looked away with a huff of air, folding her arms.
"I know." She told him, hanging her head to look at her feet for a moment before lifting it and turning away. "I guess I should go then. I told you what I had to." Then, for some unknown puzzling reason, he started to chuckle quietly as though she'd missed a joke. She turned back. "What?"
"Nothing." He grinned. As much as it warmed her heart to see the love of her life grinning, she wanted to know why he was grinning.
"There is something. What is it?" She asked, annoyance in her tone as she folded her arms.
"I just had a crazy idea. It doesn't matter. You go." He said, continuing to laugh to himself quietly.
"Tell me!"
"You... Sleeping with me again." He shook his head as if amused by some inside joke.
"Is that so ridiculous?" The Hungarian's voice was clipped as she stood there with her arms folded. "I married you, didn't I?"
"You also divorced me." The Austrian pointed out, still smiling. "You can tell yourself you would, but really, you're too stubborn to let that happen."
"Am I?" She growled, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Ja, I think you are."
"... Come on." She grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the room, along the hall she knew so well and past rooms she knew the uses of without looking inside.
"What are you doing?" He asked, resisting slightly.
"Showing you that I am not stubborn!" The female knew that she was indeed stubborn, but did not appreciate being called so by others. Behind her, Roderich smirked to himself. He may be Austrian, but there was definitely Germanic blood in his veins.
-
Apparently there hadn't been enough time to make it upstairs, as Roderich had suddenly pulled her into a room she knew very well. The one that contained only his piano and music books on a simple bookcase. She barely had time to open her mouth to ask a question before she was against a wall, a pair of lips against her own. Her tomboyish nature did not allow her to be the recessive one, so of course she fought back. The skirt of her dress was hitched up at the side, supported by his hand on her thigh. He wasn't much better off though, with his deep jacket laying discarded on the floor within seconds, his shirt hanging open and revealing a bare chest the Hungarian knew the contours of like the back of her own hand.
"You haven't changed a bit." The Austrian managed to get out between the passionate kisses they were sharing.
"Neither have you..." She panted, pulling back slightly. "You always let me dominate you this way."
"I never let you. You were just too stubborn for me to bother with the effort of dominating you." He returned, his usually tidy mop of chestnut hair slightly dishevelled from when her fingers had been run through it, his glasses steamed up slightly from the contrast against his Hungarian lover's flushed face where they had been pressed mere seconds before.
"...Why here?" She asked, swallowing to wet her throat dry from breathing through her mouth.
"You've never wanted to make love on a piano?" He sounded genuinely curious.
"Not a piano..." She shook her head, smiling at him coyly. "But maybe the piano." Their lips met again in an almost needy kiss, the sexual tension built up from the length of time they'd been apart, neither willing to release it with another, rising to the surface and begging to be released.
Roderich lifted her onto the piano, where she sat with her legs together, biting her lower lip in a seductive manner. Once again, his hand floated along her thigh, up underneath her skirt. Meanwhile, Elizabeta kicked off her shoes under the instrument, knowing what he was about to do. And his predictability didn't fail her. Hooking a finger over the edge of her panties, he pulled them down until he could let gravity do it's work after they passed her knees. Leaning down slightly, she brought her face closer to his, their eyes locked before they fluttered closed due to another passionate kiss. Smirking against his lips, she lifted a hand to his head, threading her fingers through his chocolate hair before twisting Mariazell around her finger. Of course, she knew this curious curl of hair wasn't like Feliciano's, but it could serve as a distraction as she found his equivalent. Breaking the kiss, she pecked the corner of his lips, parting her own lips slightly to let her tongue trail across the skin of his lower cheek. Realising what she was trying to do, Roderich pulled back sharply.
"You shouldn't have done that." He told her, violet eyes twinkling mysteriously. She smirked at him, crossing her ankles and swinging her legs gently.
"What are you going to do about it?" She asked, turning her head away slightly while still holding his eye-contact. He didn't reply, just gently caressed her thigh underneath her dress, slowly creeping higher... Higher...
If this was a first time for her, or just a first time between the two, she might have gasped when his hand reached her heated womanhood. But what was the point of that when the two of them were married? Were married, but even so. She just parted her legs a little more, giving him ease of access as she closed her eyes lightly, gently smiling at the irony of it all. Divorced lovers who still only wanted each other? Leaning back, she supported her weight with her hands behind her, eyes still closed. So she was caught off guard when his fingers were replaced by something warmer and much wetter. Her eyes opened quickly and she looked down, flushing slightly at the sight of her ex-husband's head between her legs, almost covered by the skirt that lay loosely across her thighs.
A quiet moan of delight left her parted lips and her hands balled into loose fists at her sides when his wet muscle slipped into her heated core. If she hadn't known already, she might have been able to tell he sang with the flexibility of the muscle within her, the amount of controll he showed as he devoured the juices threatening to drip down his chin before they could. A soft moan of his name made him push his tongue deeper, encouraging volume from his partner. The response he got was just what he wanted; a louder moan and a slight constricting around his pink muscle.
Elizabeta's breathing started to accelerate, her fists clenching tighter at her sides. She tipped her head back and let out a breathy groan, her eyes closed again. Half-tempted to warn him of her approaching orgasm, she kept her mouth closed, knowing that he knew already. Plus, if she told him, it would only encourage him to stop. Odd, but that was just how Roderich worked sometimes. Unfortunately for her, this happened anyway. She grunted in protest, opening her eyes and looking down at him. Smirking at her, he stood up slowly and licked his lips.
"Still as sweet as I remember." He muttered. That made her flush brighter than any of his actions could. Lifting his hands, she stopped him before he could do anything, grabbing his belt buckle and unfastening it in seconds with practiced fingers. Loose now, his trousers did not need much encouragement to drop to the floor, revealing his bright red boxers, emblazoned with a thick white stripe around the middle.
"You really havent changed, have you?" She asked, looking up at him again with an arched eyebrow.
"Neither have you." He nudged the red, white and green panties on the floor with the toe of his boot.
"Touche." She growled, gently squeezing the lump in the Austrian's boxers. His breath caught in his throat, and she sat up, about to slip down to the floor. But he placed a hand on her chest gently, stopping her. Her plan was to do to him what he did to her, and he knew it.
"I'm not that patient, my dear." He muttered. She looked at him, confused for a moment before she realised what he meant. So instead she shuffled backwards, lifting her hands to pull her dress off over her head, which she dumped on the floor carelessly. Resting his his hands on the edge of the piano, Roderich had to jump up onto the large instrument. Elizabeta couldn't contain a small smile at the sight of his stiff member, glad she could still do that to him after all this time.
The Austrian knelt over her outstretched legs as she sat up, supporting herself with her hands behind her. Lifting her chin gently, he kissed her again, pushing his tongue into her mouth. The taste of her hadn't completely faded yet, allowing the Hungarian to taste herself, but she wasn't about to complain. It wasn't like she didn't already know. They had been married, after all. Gently, he rest his hands on her hips, sliding a hand up her side to unclasp her bra, which was quickly discarded somewhere neither cared to notice. Slowly, both leaned closer to the piano's surface, lips still locked in a heated French-kiss, eyes closed. Eventually this had to be broken, and their eyes met when opened.
"I love you..." Roderich whispered sincerely, searching her eyes for anything like regret or uncertainty before they continued.
"I love you too." Elizabeta returned, her voice strong in her confidence. She meant it, without hesitation. All that filled her eyes was a clouded lust, covering a backdrop of love.
Backing up slightly, he positioned himself at her dripping entrance before gently sheathing his length in her hot walls. A hum came from both of them, almost relieved. A gentle smile graced both of their lips at just how right the whole thing felt, as if two pieces of a puzzle had been reunited after being separated. He braced himself with his hands either side of her shoulders, allowing her a few seconds to readjust to his size before he started to thrust into her.
Their thoughts were a mangled mess of pleasure, old times and relief. Neither knew quite what to think, until pleasure bacame the loudest of the three. Only after both had concentrated on that did the sounds start to fill the air of the room. Feminine moans and pleas for more speed and power, masculin grunts of acknowledgement of the requests, and the quiet sound of skin meeting skin as he complied.
"Roderich!" She cried as a well-angled thrust connected with her g-spot. Her head was tipped back and her eyes closed as he assaulted that spot within her, hitting it over and over until she was a panting mess beneath him, begging for her release. Her walls were tightening around his member, accelerating the process of him reaching his own climax as he continued to thrust into her, his deep brown hair sodden and sticking to his forehead. Both of their uncovered bodies were coated in a thin layer of sweat, making the act on top of a shiny grand piano quiet difficult as there was no purchase. Of course the two persisted, too close to be willing to stop now.
Wrapping her legs around Roderich's torso, the Hungarian encouraged him to go deeper, preventing him pulling out of her as she reached her limit, the tension snapping and she released onto him. The added sensation of pain as she clawed at his back with her nails made him orgasm soon after her, giving a few more dogged thrusts as they rode out their orgasms.
With a contented sigh, the Austrian pulled out of her and half-lay half-fell down beside her on the slippery surface of the large instrument. Though a plus of that was that the white remains of their act wouldn't stain and would be easy to clean off. Not that this was what the two were thinking about as they lay side by side on top of Roderich's pride and joy, their chests heaving and their bodies sweaty.
"...God, that was amazing..." Elizabeta panted, eyes gently closed as she smiled to herself. "...Hey, wait a second... You tricked me!" She turned her head to look at him. He used her own stubborn nature against her! By telling her that she wouldn't let herself sleep with him again, he got her to do just that! Roderich didn't reply for a while, catching his breath. He just smirked at her, lazily winking as if confirming what she had said. But eventually he broke the silence he had created.
"Liz?"
"Hm?"
"Happy anniversary."
"...Shit."