A/N: Hello friends. I know it's been a while. I know it's been a while since I've committed to smutto, so here's a wee gift. Well, I hope it's a gift and you're not clawing your eyes out reading it, and I hope the end isn't to cringey. I really wanted to give this smut a dose of reality and hopefully show some of their inexperience. Uninspired as I am, the title "The Lake Isle" is actually a piece by Ola Gjeilo that i've been listening to, and tied back to a poem (The Lake Isle of Innisfree) - If you haven't heard of Ola, you should check him out. Thanks for reading, as always, let me know what you think.
The Lake Isle
Henry McCord thought the day of his wedding couldn't come sooner. He'd waited far too long to watch Elizabeth stand before him at the altar. Nothing could've prepared him for the moment she'd walk down an isle, surrounded by people they loved, in the simple but extraordinarily elegant white gown. It was the only traditional thing about their relationship — churches and white. His palms were damp, and hands balled into fists at his side, and yet had nothing to do with the warm weather. Comfortable in such buildings, he took a deep nasal breath, savouring the woody scent he was so familiar with. It was suddenly so quiet.
He felt like he'd be able to recall every single detail. He'd try to, at least. She was just as nervous, he could tell. The microscopic knitting of her brow, and the way she swallowed quickly but heavily. Strong as always, she gave him a small quirk of a grin, and his heart palpitated at the vision. It was surreal, yet completely familiar and natural. Five more steps and she'd stand before him. Thick lashes hid her lowered eyes, and light, sandy strands of hair danced around her temples in the small breeze. He thought he could see the rapid bounding of her pulse at the base of her throat, but it was surely his imagination.
Now, it was certainly not his imagination as he pressed his lips firmly over the spot, sucking hard at the pulsing junction as though he drew life from it. Finally alone after hours of the beautiful ceremony, they were more than ready to indulge in one another, only hoping to get further than the elevator.
They were silent walking hand in hand towards their room. They'd not been able to afford much for a honeymoon after the costs of the wedding. Elizabeth giggled quietly as Henry fumbled with the key-card. Finally gaining successful entry, they stepped into the large suite. Elizabeth moved about the room looking as though she floated instead of walked with the length of her gown covering her feet. Taking a breath, she inhaled the mild scent of lavender and fresh linen that came with hotels. Naturally gravitating to the mini-bar, she inspected the available beverages before spotting a strategically placed bottle of champagne, iced in a bucket.
"Do you um…" she cleared her throat. "Do you want a drink?" She bit her lip and met her husband's eyes. Her husband. Her belly fluttered at the thought.
He was staring at her from across the room, his eyes fixed on hers. "No," he rasped. His nostrils flared and his jaw was set tensely, one hand gently tapped the side of his thigh as if he were in thought. There was something predatory in his gaze as he slowly made towards her, and she found it quietly thrilling.
Elizabeth let her fingertips slip from the cold surface of the bottle, letting it slide gently back into the ice and turning to face him completely. When he was close enough that she could feel his body heat, his fingers moved from the front of her bodice that covered her ribs and slowly traced around to her back where the fabric was drawn together with a zipper and lace bow. His cotton shirt brushing against her waist seemed loud, and she was acutely aware of his unsteady breaths.
Her breasts constricted with every quick breath underneath the tight garment, her body aching to be freed. His scent was a mix of cologne and mild whiskey, and she let her eyes flutter closed, taking a deeper breath to inhale his scent. Tilting her chin upwards, she silently asked for his lips. When her eyes opened again, he gently kissed her, letting the bow between his fingers slip undone and fasten around the zipper. He dragged it down slowly. Elizabeth squeaked in surprise when he suddenly plunged his tongue between her lips and her tight bodice sprang loose.
She reached for his white dress shirt, thumbing the buttons carelessly and almost tearing them apart. He moved to whisper in her ear. "No, I think I quite want to do this first," he said lowly. Goosebumps erupted down her neck and over the exposed swell of her breast, and she pulled as his clothing hastily. With a small tug of his skilled fingers, her gown billowed to the ground in a pool of white around her feet. Without warning, large hands slipped behind her thighs and lifted her from the ground clad only in underwear.
He deposited her on the plush suede lounge, situated across from the glow of a small fireplace. His hands trembled as he fumbled with the belt buckle on his trousers. She reached for him underneath the unbuttoned cotton shirt that hung from his glorious body. He grunted in frustration, feeling her fingernails drag through the fine dusting of hair on his chest. Flattening her palms, she continued lower over the hard abdominal muscles. The physical requirements of the Marines kept him toned and gracefully muscled. Perched above her, with the hard shadows from the dim lighting, he looked powerful and menacing, his hair a fine mess in the wake of her hands. God, he was hot.
Despite being intimately familiar with one another already, and her waning religiousness, Elizabeth couldn't deny the spirituality of the moment. She stared up at him when he was finally naked, but he gathered her in his arms and began to stand again. "What are you doing?" She breathed, clawing at him for support.
"I'm not consummating my marriage on a sofa," He replied determinedly, giving her a heart-stopping smirk.
She snorted loudly, then squeaked as he placed her in the centre of a very large, consumingly soft, king sized bed. With a hunger that startled and aroused her beyond belief, he hoisted her upwards as though she weighed nothing, skilfully removed her bra and tore her thin lace panties away, leaving her stark, spread and wanting.
She held his heavy gaze and let her knees fall apart in complete submission and invitation. Crushing his body to hers, he kissed her hard, and penetrated her harder. Not quite as ready as him, she yelped at the sudden roughness.
"You okay?" He panted, even as he said the words, he was unable to remain still.
She reached around and gripped his backside, digging her fingernails into the taught muscle. "Uh, ah! Yes." He groaned and leaned into her body, visceral need demanding his furious pace. She raked her nails over his muscular back and up his shoulder, squeezing in attempt to gain his attention. "Baby, could you slow down a bit," She managed breathlessly.
He pulled back, panting with effort and met her eyes, nodding sheepishly. "Sorry, I…"
Threading her fingers into his tangled hair, she pulled him down and kissed him thoroughly, silencing his unnecessary apology. She knew all too well what he was feeling – the same scalding heat lapped deep in her belly, leaving her wanton and thoughts foggy. Pressing her nose into the crook of his neck, she breathed him in again, tilting her hips and silently encouraging him. His blunt movements brought her to the cusp of pain, but didn't cross, and instead she sank into him. Each movement exceeded the demands of the last, and her desire swelled greedily, needing more from him in every passing moment. Silent puffs of breath became rasping pants, pitched moans and then guttural cries. Pulling back a second time, he swallowed hard. "Elizabeth, baby am I hurting you?"
She released another strangled sound of complete frustration. "Christ, don't stop!" She shrieked and kissed him roughly again, tasting blood as she wounded his lip.
Pain jolted through him, then overwhelmingly replaced by something carnal. Her lithe body arcing into his was hot and slick with effort, and holding her close, the sensation of her stiffened nipples grazing his chest was excruciating. His rational mind fled, and he dissolved into her body. With a jolt and a growl, he collapsed against her, dizzy as the blood rushed from his head and pooled in his groin.
Elizabeth writhed in frustration beneath him, her breath still coming in quick gusts. "Henry… you're crushing me." She pushed against his chest.
He kissed her softly, then shifting slightly, their bodies still joined, he felt her tense grip surrounding him. "You didn't…"
She shook her head quickly, "No, but it's alr—"
Pressing another firm kiss against her mouth, he swallowed her next words. He placed a kiss against her cheek, then moved lower, pausing to caress the faint bruises of passion that were forming against the tender flesh of her beasts. Lower still, making her squirm and giggle as his tongue swirled against her navel. Hovering above the over-stimulated area between her thighs, he waited, biting his lip and glancing up to meet her eyes. She could feel his hot breath fanning against her skin, maddening in anticipation.
"May I?" He said quietly.
She swallowed thickly, and her response slipped between her lips in a hiss, "Yes." With a gentleness that made her heart swell, he placed two long fingers against her cleft and dragged them down through the slippery heat of arousal, "Yes…"
He watched her belly rise and fall quickly and made sure she met his eyes as he slipped his caressing digits inside, making her grunt in approval. He felt her body give an involuntary clench around his fingers, and the gratifying sensation rose the hairs on his neck.
He pushed her legs apart further, and scooted closer so that his mouth was inches from his fingers. They were so caught up in fevered lust earlier, he'd not had a chance to look at her face. He watched now, her eyes fluttering and an attractive flush covered her cheeks as he pressed and explored, fascinated by the way her body responded to his stimulation. She writhed daintily, head turning and hands searching for something to grip. He slid his free hand up beside her, gripping her hand and intertwining their fingers.
As her quiet whimpers grew in frequency, Henry pushed a third long finger between her legs. She gasped loudly and cried out, making him still immediately, nervousness and inexperience playing on his insecurities. "Sorry, baby. You want me to stop?"
"Please don't stop. Do that again," She breathed.
"This?" He said, moving his hand in the particular manner.
She squealed quietly, and the delightful sound made his loins ache and a deep rumbling begin low in his chest. He pressed his lips against her slippery cleft and grunted as he felt her other hand roughly weave into his hair. Touching everywhere he could reach, Henry moved slowly and precisely, making sure to take in the details which he'd missed during his earlier haste. He focused on her breaths, the sharp intakes of air when he moved the right way and periodic spells of breath holding as her body vibrated with contentment. Her fragrance filled the room, light and floral with a hint of coconut, now mingled with the scent of her body.
"Parfum pour femme," He whispered to himself.
"What?" She rasped, making a weak attempt to look at him, but collapsing back against the pillow top, the expensive cotton sheets suddenly felt rough against oversensitive skin.
"You smell so beautiful," He murmured, then occupied his mouth again.
Her cheeks flushed royally at his observation, but she hadn't time to feel embarrassed before he pressed her thighs wider and performed a number of experimental manoeuvres with his tongue. She squeaked and arched, stinging his scalp with her tight grip on his hair. Henry was a quick learner, and he hummed with satisfaction at his ability.
"Henry, I'm…" She swallowed roughly, scrambling for volume. "I'm… so close."
With a gentle flick of his tongue, he rose above her, crawling up her damp torso but leaving his hand busy between her legs. With a groan of exasperation, she shot him a frustrated look, bucking her hips involuntarily against his hand, but he only smirked roguishly. "I want to watch." He said throatily.
Descending on her lips, he kissed her once hotly, teasing the tip of her tongue before pulling back just out of her reach. Moisture trickled down his wrist, and he ground his hips into her pelvis instinctively. He needed her body again. Building his strokes again, he rubbed, pressed and pulled, carefully yet demanding her response. She called to him, her eyes now squeezed shut and the pressure in her belly reached it's pinnacle.
"Henry…" Her voice shook, the sound was close to fear, but he knew better.
"Go." He growled against her lips, and was surprised when she did contort against his body in ecstasy. Apparently he'd read her correctly, and pride swelled deep in his belly, and elsewhere. She was whimpering, breathing hard in his ear, brisling the hairs on his neck as she quivered. He could've sworn her perfume intensified in the heat of the moment.
With a movement of depleted precision, Henry rolled their heated bodies so that he was now pinned beneath an exhausted Elizabeth. She straddled him obediently, letting him pull her down for a possessive kiss, plunging his tongue between her lips. His heartbeat thrummed loudly in his ears, and hands moved on pure compulsion, gripping her backside and positioning her to be claimed. He wasn't sure who it was that cried out this time.
He leaned in close again, touching the tips of their noses and giving her a gentle kiss. "I love you, Elizabeth McCord," he mumbled.
She giggled quietly, the sound of her new name making her feel giddy. "I love you too."
"I love that sound." He whispered.
"Huh?"
"That little noise you make, when I… when we first…" He rolled his hips again in a deliberate way and she released another quiet noise. "That sound."
She woke some time later, tucked neatly against Henry's body, his warm breath tickling the back of her neck with each soft snoring sound. The rest of their lives had sounded dauntingly long, but now, as they lay together, she allowed herself to feel safe and secure for the first time in so long. She felt him stir, and carefully freed her limbs and turned to face him. His hair was a disheveled mess, and she reached out to push it back over his forehead. He cracked open an eye, smiling warmly at the welcome face before him.
"Hey," she whispered.
"Hey yourself." his voiced cracked with sleep.
"It's only 8pm…" she started, not quite ready to call it a night with her new husband.
"Hmm. Room service and a board game?" He mumbled with a smirk.
"Board games on our honeymoon?" She teased, "Sounds perfect."