And the Fire Consumes
A Jane Eyre one-shot
Author's Note: This fanfiction contains adult themes. If that offends, please feel free to leave. All characters are Bronte's. This fiction takes place in the time of canon (just after the wedding attempt), however that does not mean that is it completely fateful to it.
Comments and criticism is always welcome. Please excuse any typography errors.
How could she walk away from him? What was she, heartless? No. Jane had left her dark knight lying there in agony, black hair rumpled on his head, eyes out of focus and full of tears, mind lost in the pain of honesty because there was no other way to leave him. She had backed away from his life just how she entered it -- quietly, unnoticed, like the faint sound of the sea lapping onto shore.
These foolish, pity-educed thoughts of comfort and protection for him meant nothing. A mere afterthought which would subside as her resolve solidified. Jane looked at her reflection in the mirror. She wondered now, bemused and lost, if he had ever really loved her, or was it only her rank and station, her unpolluted memory he valued. Her hair was a mess: pulled fly-away by Edward's large, commanding hands holding her head still as she fought to free herself and he fought to kiss her. It was less an atrocity than the night he had purposed to her, at least. Now her eyes, so grey less than an hour before, were red and heavily washed with the salt water of her tears and her checks bared the vestige of their escape from her eyes, stained with dried water paths. No, Jane knew Edward loved her, not only for those reasons but for more. She had made sure of that before the wedding.
Jane knew his motives, dark and guarded as they were, better than she knew her own, for the love she had for him was not as pure of heart as people assumed. Had he not been the one moved to action with love for her, where she had only the foolish dreams of a girl, unskilled in any art of seduction? All reason lost Jane, her pale face turning paler in the setting of the sun through her window. For a long while she watched as the orange light fall on the amalgam of pieces which made her face. It was nothing now but shards of a person. A whole being making the body of Jane Eyre, with all its flaws could not exist, because Jane Eyre did not exist, not how she'd known herself. With one fatal turn everything had gone horribly wrong and no longer could Jane recognize the girl sitting before her. That girl had just died.
The knock at the door Jane feared came all too quickly, just as the final sliver of the sun went to rest, a deep knock threatened to tear the door from the hinges. Jane bolted up. Didn't I lock the door? No, she hadn't and Jane raced from her vanity to the door groping at the lock until she heard it bolt. Moments later she breathed a sigh of relief when the knob was racked, seeking entrance and the door held firm.
"Jane, I..." a broken, lost, voice trailing off was all she heard and she silently begged her demon tempter let her be. Jane sank to the floor, aided by her back braced against the door. She feared if she saw him,she would not be able to fight and resist him. She was drawn to his pain, a wound she could heal; she could make him happy, give Edward everything he wanted. The only thing that terrified her more than her willingness to let him be everything in her life was her desire to make it so. Brocklehurst was right, she was a sinful creature.
She dared not breathe or move as the footsteps stalked off into the distance. Sweet God, she had to leave, now. Tonight. She couldn't live in such temptation any longer: not when such a dark angel called to her.
Jane set to work packing: everything Edward had bought her that was already packed she would not take, packing everything that was hers she had left. She had come with more to Thornfield and lost it along the way. And when all was done and with the moon high in the blackness of the sky she realized just what tonight could have held for her. Not cold luggage packed full of dusty black gowns, not the few worn books she could not bar to be without, not the half realized images of her portfolio, but the deep passion of Edward's hands warming her body: learning every inch of her small frame just as she did him. All of their meetings of the last months had been laden with the raw lust of both, concealed quietly except in each other's eyes (another reason why Jane had stayed so cold to him, hoping to remain strong in her own resolve). The lurid vision of his slow, drugging, kisses surfaced. Kisses that made her melt into him, made her forget everything of herself; the memory dowsed her like ice water.
Just one last kiss. One last breathless say of his name. One last goodbye before I steal into the night and take his heart with me. I owe it to him.
There were hours till dawn though it was late and Jane lightly tiptoed from her room, hair still disheveled, rumpled black dress still firmly tied around her waist, her eyes now clear. As she reached his door, Jane knew this wasn't for Edward, but for herself. And such an action, though selfish, she could live with far longer than the pain she would bring him. With the walk to his looming chamber door, she had decided she would never be able to live freely if she herself couldn't say goodbye.
Jane knocked lightly, hoping she would be able to sneak in, unnoticed. She waited, silence spoke back. No one stirred, nothing moved, the light from the moon in the night's sky was brilliant but still. With a baited breath, Jane entered the room, through Mr. Rochester's unlocked door.
It was dark, devastatingly dark. Edward had drawn the curtains and blown out all the candles -- leaving not a shred of light to enter the room. Jane shuffled in, afraid to make a noise lest it wake him and very gently closed the door.
"Jane?" Edward's soft voice resonated disbelieving in her ears. She stood still, staring in the direction the voice had come. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. "Jane, is it...is it you?" Edward began to rise, wanting to run to her, hold her, make sure she knew the depths of his love.
"Please stop." Jane got out quickly. Please God, don't let him get any closer. She knew she had to preoccupy him until she could slip out, make her way to the door and run, "I thought...I'd thought you'd be asleep," she said, breathless.
"I was never planning to sleep tonight," Edward's voice, commanding and clear, was getting closer, "however the loneliness and heartbreak I feel at present was a far cry from the pleasure I expected."
He was inches away now. Jane could feel his tired breath warm her face, sense his hands aching to hold her and she could feel herself aching to let him. "Mr. Rochester, I've--"
"So I'm Mr. Rochester again? Sad, Jane, when I so desperately want my name to be a breathless whisper on your lips."
With a cunning flip of her body, Jane was free of his imposing presence and across the room to the window, darting the curtain just enough for the moonlight. "I'm packed." Edward said nothing, moved nowhere, just stared and her fragile plain beauty in the moonlight. "I, I came to say goodbye to you." In only a few of his commanding strides, Edward was in front of her: eyes hollow, body hunched -- a broken man. A man broken by her rejection.
He didn't know what to say. Quiet, without her knowing, Edward's hands rose to Jane's shoulders and tightened. He sighed, heavy, "...of all the things tonight would have brought me..." He looked into her eyes, now illuminated by the bright moonlight. They were red, she had cried, he had moved her, she did love him, "Jane...".
Slowly, intentionally Edward bent his head down to just grace Jane's lips. His feather-light kiss was the only thing soft on her body. She was tense, her mind told her to pull away, but her heart was too willing to walk the path to hell, every fiber of her being told her to race there, deeper into his arms. A small moan escaped the back of Jane's throat. She found herself kissing him back, her bottom lip pulling his. Edward held his breath, knowing going to fast would make her pull away and he didn't want her to pull away: not when she smelled so good, not when this could make her stay.
Jane began to lose all reason. With expert skill, Edward was warming her through: wrapping his arms around to support her from falling to the floor.
Edward's fingers deftly unhooked all the buttons of her dress confining her neck, buttons it had taken her painstaking minutes to clasp with shaking hands from her rattled nerves just hours before. And though Jane believed she could have no nerves left, the skin of her throat under his soft lips cried out to her heart the perfection of them there. As wonderful as his lips felt on her neck, she wanted them on her own and while her fingers dug deeply into his broad shoulders, crumpling his white shirt, she breathlessly said his name.
His hands paused on her waist, but their firmness or strength there did not escape Jane. Edward's eyes looked nearly hollow, as though their brilliancy has pooled in the center and all his hopes—his few hopes—lie open and fragile for her to see. When Jane went to caress his cheek she felt Edward tremble under her touch. If he had to, if she demanded it, he would let her go. He did not move, did not breathe, until her lips claimed his own and they both surrendered to the sinful darkness around them.
She realized, as Edward's restless breath glided across her lips into her own mouth, he was giving her control and she wasn't sure what to do. Instead of questioning, instead of thinking, she simply became bolder, her hands holding his neck firmly and pressing her tongue into his mouth, only to quickly retreat back into her own. Edward bit back a groan low in his throat and tried to pull Jane even closer. Even through all her heavily skirts she could feel the urgency in his embrace and what drove it.
Jane's kisses became light, quick caresses upon Edward's lips as her hands slithered through his cool, dark hair. Edward fought to keep his lips with her as long as he could, but she was too quick, and, fearing she was running away, he clasped her head and stilled her lips with his own. Hot breath from her languid moan filtered into Edward's mouth and urged him to glide his tongue deeper, slower, stroke every inch of her welcoming hollow.
By the time all the tension had left Jane's body from Edward's drugging kisses she felt her knees give way at the edge of his bed. Breaking his kiss, Edward's wet lips glided down her exposed neck to the remaining buttons on her dress. His hands still trembled, but only with the shiver of anticipation as he undid them. When he was done, Edward pulled Jane to her unsteady feet and spun her around, pulling her petticoat down as she spun. Her pale skin glistened in contrast to the luminescent white of her corset and chemise in the shards of moonlight.
As Edward curtly untied her corset, he planted soft, biting, kisses at the nape of her neck, making her fingers clench and her stomach knot into a need she did not realize she had. All of a sudden, she had the desperate urge to pull him close and roll her body against his. He would not let her turn. His rough, but gentle hands were gliding up her small hips to the rise of her naked breasts. Jane's head rolled back onto Edward's shoulder as he twisted her hardened nipple between his fingers. His other hand ventured down the soft side of her body: down her side, over the slight rise of her hip, towards her stomach where it rested for a moment. Jane's body went rigid. Edward's hands stilled and released their hold on her slightly.
She used the advantage to twist around in his grip and face him. Her skin ached for his touch and something lower in her, something she could neither describe nor explain, burned to have him close, closer than he was now, closer than the crisp whiteness of his shirt grazing her hard nipples every time they both drew their wicked breath.
The first few button of his shirt were undone and where they lay open Jane could see the thick, hard bands of muscle making his neck connect to his broad shoulders. As her fingers slowly went to work on the remaining buttons, she kissed the lowest section of exposed skin on his chest, licking her way up to the base of his neck.
Edward, who had been surprised by her actions a moment before, gripped her backside furiously at the seductive actions of his ingenious fairy. As slowly as she had undone his shirt buttons, she pushed his shirt away from his chest and down his shoulders; she saw Edward's strength and command mirrored his in clean anatomy. Once his hands were free of the shirt, she pressed the length of her body against his chest, pressing hardest against what was still covered. Edward's hands twisted into Jane's hair, discarding the pins and allowing it to cascade down her body as his mouth captured hers again. As Jane began to claw at his waist and rock against him, Edward pressed her back onto his bed. His lips and tongue explored her luscious body as his hands finished removing his clothing.
The moment Edward's body fully caressed Jane's she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and arched her back. The hardest part of him bathed in the neediest part of her. Edward thought a fleeting, half-thought as he refused to unlock his warm mouth with hers, that only this, only she could be heaven itself, and braced himself on his forearms so he would not crush her.
When Jane's roaming eyes returned to Edward's she saw the return of his wicked mischievousness. Before she could question him, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him and when he was done, he was on his back and Jane was sitting over him: her soft center crying from what she could not name. Edward's hand purposefully rose up her thigh, resting where it has only minutes before when she had gone rigid and surprised him. His thumb began to rub lower, brushing the sleek center of her passion.
Lightning sliced through Jane. Every nerve of her being shivered at his light touch that would not move, it merely stroked her in circles. Her breast ached, her shoulder fell relaxed, and yet the center of her desperately wanted to move. Edward's knowing other hand reassured her, and help guide her first slight movements over his hardness. Jane's sleek folds running over Edward's hardness, compounded with his sure movements on her sex made Jane moan loudly. The exquisite perfection felt too good for her to stay silent. And at the first breathless break of her voice, Edward himself began to rock with her.
The initial slice of lightening gave way to another and another and another, until Jane's movements became faster and harder and her whole body broke with a cry of ecstasy. As passion took her, Edward slowed his movements, and rose to suck her nipple into his mouth, provoking another cry from her parted lips. When she was able to form a coherent thought again, she looked into the face of her love. Her hands braced themselves next to his head on the ornate head board. Jane could not believe there was more, that there could be more pleasure to such carnal relations than he has already given her. And yet, she wanted something more. Needed to feel Edward in a way she still could not explain. Her sex clenched as Edward's hand slid across it pulling his own sex with it.
There was a pressure than began to give way as his formidable shaft began to slack the greater need she felt. As a murmur of pleasure rolled from her throat Edward whispered in her ear, "I will try not to hurt you, love." The words shattered any control Jane still felt she would have at the end of this. She wanted no end to this. Edward stilled, breathing furiously. Jane urged him further with his hips, but his hands and eyes warned this part must be done slow, should be savored.
He was taking too long. His gaze became too powerful. Jane rested her swollen lips upon his, "Edward—"
"If I do this, you will be my wife. To nature and to God, you will always be mine." The silent fierceness in his voice caught in Jane's throat. Deliberately, Jane kissed him with all the love she possessed.
Edward could stay still on longer. Her frank affirmation clenched his heart and her throbbing need bewitched his sex. His hand returned to caress her wet gem. She moaned at his lips as soon as he began stroking it again. Slowly, she began rising and falling the short length of him in her and just as she was about to climax for the second time, he thrust into her completely. The ecstasy of the moment slacked the pain of him fully taking her. And she stilled only with the unique thrill of him filling her completely, not in pain.
This was becoming one. This was sharing your life completely. This was the naked truth of passion. Jane fell on top of Edward's check and traced his own hard nipple with her tongue. With a start, Edward flipped her own to her back, allowing his hardness to fully fill her. Before she could marvel at the beauty in the feeling, Edward began to move with languid strokes in and out. Jane dug her feet into the mattress and arched her body. With every push of her body, Edward's thrusts became faster, harder, until she no longer knew who was leading and who was following. Her body began to feel the sharp shocks of lightning again. They intensified when she realized Edward's muscles were feeling the same shocks. She could not keep still, could not keep quiet, and as her sex clenched in passion, neither could Edward.
The peak was higher this time, the brilliancy of the feelings within her deeper than before. Jane pulled herself to Edward's lips and brokenly cried his name as her center snapped and her orgasm washed over her. Just as her body's twitching began to slow, Edward's own body went rigid and a whole new feeling of ecstasy washed over Jane's over-stimulated body as he filled her.
Edward deeply murmured her name across her skin as they both roamed each other's glistening bodies, refusing to separate, to feel apart.
It wasn't till hours later, when both their bodies were slacked of their need, when both had love bites and bruises all over their bodies, that Jane fell onto Edward's chest and they both succumbed to the enchanting peace of slumber.
When the harsh first brush of day filtered through the open slit in Edward's curtain's Jane left. She had silently kissed his bruised lips for the final time while still in his warm arms. She had gently slipped away from him and silently replaced her closes, leaving the pearl necklace that had been in her pocket on the nightstand. She had shed her last tear in his presence as she quietly closed the door behind her.
As the cool air greeted her skin in the early summer morning, she realized her cheeks must be flushed, for the wind was never so cool in the morning. And, not looking back, she tightly gripped her bag and hurried to through the gate and down to the cross. Dawn finally broke as she stepped into the carriage headed for King's Cross.