A/N: I don't own any of the "In a Better World" characters and I am not making any money from writing this.
Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.
This story is just sweet re-write of short scene in a movie where Anton and Marianne make love. It is written in first person, from Anton's POV.
Early morning hours, kinda cloudy outside, and I am sitting at the kitchen table, alone. I stare down at my coffee mug, my mind feeling empty and filled with heavy thoughts in the same time. I don't really know what to think, at this moment I mostly... feel. Feelings...
So many things had happened in the course of the last several weeks, that it almost feels unreal. I became a murderer. My son is now at the hospital.
But still, instead of the anguish or pain, or even fear, I feel strangely... relieved. Like what had happened, no matter how horrible, had to happen, in order to... make me realize, I guess. How much I had neglected my own family, how... vulnerable and weak I can be.
Make US realize, every single one.
But there is one other thing that I have to do. I feel that. Just to do, or at least try, that one thing, so everything would tie itself together neatly, so I and my family can start anew.
Marianne is still in master's bedroom. Maybe she's still sleeping. Maybe she's awake. I don't know why, but I feel that this is a right moment to talk to her, or at least try to. A gut feeling, an instinct I doubt it, but in the same time I can't ignore it.
I put the coffee mug down and make my way to the master's bedroom door. I think about my decision for a moment before just shaking my head and pressing the door knob. I step inside the room, closing the door behind, and look at the bed.
Marianne is still sleeping, lying on her side, covered with the sheet up to her waist. I don't know why, but I feel a need to see her more clearly, but I also don't want to wake her up. So I make my way toward the bed, slowly, silently, before sitting on the bed and looking down at her. She looks so peaceful and calm that the sight makes my heart swell. Who knows what is she still dreaming of?
Why did I hurt her so much?
I simply can't resist a need to touch her, even if that means is waking her up. I gently stroke my hand down her cheek, feeling myself shiver, warmth rushing up my chest. Marianne suddenly opens her eyes, and I almost jump back, taken aback by that. Did I scare her? She doesn't appear to be scared or surprised though: she just lies there on the bed and watches me, calmness in her eyes only surprising me more with each moment that passes by. It is like she expected me.
My heart skips a beat at the sudden realization, gut instinct about what is about to take place. Our lips slowly moved closer, both of us, I believe, sensing that resisting would be pointless.
When our lips finally lock, I feel a sudden rush of heat going down my stomach at the renewed feeling, back of my head feeling numb. It has been so long since I kissed my life, love of my life. My soul mate. It is only know that I fully realize how much I had missed of her lips pressed against mine, our bodies pulled close together.
A moan escape's Marianne's lips as I push my tongue inside her mouth slowly, licking the underside of her warm tongue as I move my body little closer to her. The heat between us two increases, I feel drops of sweat rolling down my forehead, in the same time I feel us both shuddering. As she starts playing along, gently wrapping her tongue around mine, I suddenly feel myself stiff, which, for some reason, makes me blush. Arousal starts as lingering warmth between my thighs and slowly starts spreading through my entire body, taking my whole being, following our tongue play in perfect rhythm. I sigh and push my tongue deeper down her throat: she moans, and I can feel myself hardening even more at the sight of her chest moving up and down followed by her heavy breathing, mind wandering to one of the many night that we had spend together, so long ago. I see her nipples erecting against the fabric of her T-shirt. As the image of her naked body flashes in front of my eyes, I found myself slowly parting lips with Marianne and climbing on top of her. Our eyes our locked. I am hesitant at first, not wanting to move too fast, but the look in her eyes assures me to go further with what I am doing. She wants me; needs me. And that feeling is mutual. Once I am on top of her, I try to think of what to do next. She saves me some trouble, however, by grabbing bottoms of my T-shirt and pulling it off, throwing it down on the floor. I respond by removing her T-shirt and throwing it on the floor too: the sight of her bare chest-she wore no bra-almost making my mind spin. Her face doesn't even twitch, but I can see amusement in her eyes: it almost makes me laugh. I shiver once I feel her hands grabbing my jeans and pulling them down aggressively: I push them further down myself and knock them off myself with the help of my ankles. I swallow hard upon noticing lust sparkling inside her eyes, clearly centered on the bulge tenting my underwear. I press my lips against hers once again, lust and arousal between us melting into delicious French kiss. She slowly slids my underwear down to my knees, in the same time arching her back up and playfully nipping my tongue with her own. I slowly undo a button on her shorts and pull them down, chilling at the anticipation as I feel her soft smooth skin against my fingertips.
She groans as I enter her: I remain in that position for a moment, savoring a feeling of her tight wetness against my length, before I start moving in and out of her, all the time looking down on her gloriously naked body. Every thrust increases deligtful mixture of pleasure and arousal that I feel with all my might. I watch her closely, trying to match my moves with Marianne's responses, pleasure her. I want everything to be right and just, for a change. Our eyes are still locked, her hands being pressed tightly against my back, her moans and groans almost in sync with mine. Part of me still can't believe that we are actually making love, and I know that Marianne probably feels the same way, but it actually feels... right somehow.
Almost like we are not doing it because of the pleasure, or purely for love, but to try... test... something.
After several minutes, I feel pressure between my thighs and cold sweat rolling down my back. I know that I am ready.
As we come simultaneously, Marianne's walls pumping rhythmically against my shaft and her fingernails digging into my back, I feel pleasure washing over me as our bodies seem to become one, at least for a moment. We are together-we just made love together, we gave each other pleasure and comfort, we made each other happy. I shiver at the realization. That's what we did, without even saying a word.
But sometimes you simply don't need words, don't you? Maybe it is even better this way.
I lie next to her, and she lies on her side, facing me. For the first time in weeks, she forms a smile. Small, but never the less beautiful. I let out a chuckle.
"I love you." Saying that feels like a weight being pulled off my chest. I still say it sort of under my breath, like I am afraid of what her reaction might be.
She doesn't move. She is just staring at me, smile still lingering on her lips. She says what I longed to for months. "I love you too."
I know that we will have to have lots of serious talks later, but I decide not to think about that for a moment. Me and Marianne lie there on our bed next to each other, hands pressed together. At this moment, nothing else matters in my world.