Tom Sez: For those true believers who wanted at least one happy ending for George and Izzie.
I do this (and more, too) for you...
"To Have and to Hold"
George peered into the wide mirror before him, catching one last look at himself in an Armani tuxedo. He allowed himself one more sideways glance, one more "Bond, James Bond." He had to admit that he liked the way he looked in the get-up. Maybe he should've bought this one, instead of just renting...
"Are you okay in there?" he heard Izzie ask through the closed bathroom door.
The sound of her voice triggered a surge in his pulse rate, but not in the way it usually did.
She was ready? George blinked. She hadn't even gone into the other room in the bridal suite before I came in here. And her dress was so elaborate, it took three people to help her into it. She couldn't have possibly... He steadied himself. Nerves now, O'Malley? On your wedding night? Your wedding night with...
"George?" Izzie asked.
"Yeah," he called back. He took a breath, then bolted the rest of his champagne and started to undress.
"Today was wonderful, George," she said.
"You're right," he replied. And she was – from the moment he saw her enter the church, to their exchanged "I dos," to sharing their first bites of wedding cake, each moment had been just about perfect. So why am I feeling uneasy now, he thought. A little scared, even? He removed his cufflinks and set them by the sink. He tried to tamp down his butterflies by saying, "I know I mentioned it once or twice today, but...you looked incredible."
"Thank you again," she said. "You've never been more handsome."
"Handsome," he said into the mirror, noticing a nervous twitch above his eye. Oh, jeez. "I don't see it."
"You don't have to." Izzie's affection was obvious in her voice.
George finished unbuttoning his shirt and shed it. The coolness of the air startled him. Am I sweating? "The reception was fun, wasn't it?" he asked, trying to keep the tension out of his voice.
"Yes, it was," she replied. "I really enjoyed dancing with you tonight."
"I could tell," he said, as the recent memory filled his mind. Only a couple of hours ago, they had held each other on the dance floor, swaying slowly and easily to the music. He remembered the way Izzie had smiled at him as the music led them, how her warm and lovely body pressed against him, how the smell of her hair and skin filled his senses. At the time, his mind had jumped forward to this place, to them being alone and undressed under the blankets, making love for the first time as husband and wife.
Now, however, his imagination was blank, like it had been erased. That realization made him even more ill-at-ease.
"George?" he heard her ask again. "I'm...I'm waiting for you." Izzie's voice had a hint of need in it.
He exhaled hard, trying to bring himself back to some sort of center. Then he frowned at his reflection. What is happening to me? I love her. I love her. I need her. I want her.
And she loves me. And needs me. And wants me.
He unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, then let them fall. So why am I afraid all of the sudden?
George set his jaw, took a breath and stepped out of the bathroom.
And there was his wife, his Izzie, his Mrs. O'Malley. She was stunning, soft and round and alive, as she stood at the other side of the king-size bed. The garments she had chosen to wear – a pearl-white satin and lace bustier and low-rise bikini panties – were almost too exquisite, like they'd been designed and fitted to show off every curve of her body. Her eyes sparkled. Her golden hair and skin glowed. He felt unworthy of her beauty, of her presence, of her love.
She smiled at him – that broad, beautiful smile that was always only for him.
"You're shaking," she said tenderly.
She was right, and he knew it, but he tried to laugh it off. "It's drafty here. The vent for the air conditioner's right next to me."
Her tongue flicked out against her lips. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he replied. "You're just...so beautiful right now. More beautiful than I've ever seen you look." He smiled shyly. "And not just because you're a few snaps away from being naked."
She chuckled gently at that. Then her head tilted a bit, and her eyes pondered the length of his nearly-bare form. "You're beautiful too, you know," she said. "I like those boxers."
He felt a rush of air escape his lungs as he nervously rubbed a bicep with an opposite hand. "Kinda wish I'd done more push-ups." He noticed that she was taking in the sight of his chest and stomach – and going lower. "And sit-ups."
"No," she said, her voice light and loving. "You look great." She raised her hands to loose her hair, and it cascaded down on to her shoulders.
He sighed audibly.
She giggled again. "You aren't nervous, are you?"
George closed his eyes. "Yeah."
Izzie studied him for a moment. "Really?"
He nodded.
"Why?" she replied, concern leaking into her tone. "I mean - George, we've done this before."
"No, we haven't," he said. "I mean, yeah, we've been together, but this...this is different. Before, Izzie, you were my friend, then my best friend, then my girlfriend. Now...now you're my wife."
She beamed at the words. "I love hearing you say that."
"I love saying it." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I've always loved you, I think. There was never anyone else for me. You're it. The one I've always wanted, always needed. And now we're here, together, for good and for real, and I'm the luckiest man in the world. And I think there's a part of me that just feels so...unworthy. Of this. Of you." George shrugged. "Sometimes I screw things up, things I really, really want and really, really need and...I love you. And I don't want to screw this up, this thing we have. I guess that's what I'm saying."
Izzie's eyes were warm and loving. "I understand, George. Believe me, I understand." She walked to him slowly and as she closed the distance, she reached for his hands. "I've waited for this moment with you for a long time," she said, lacing her fingers with his. "And I don't want to screw it up either. Because you're mine now, George. All mine." She kissed him tenderly. "And I want to be with you forever. That starts right here, right now." Izzie kept her clasp firm on her husband's hands and led him to the luxurious bed. Izzie then turned her back to him and lifted away her golden hair, showing George the single hook and long zipper on her silk and satin garment. "Undress me," she said softly.
George's fear, ever present only seconds ago, vanished as his fingers touched the spot between her shoulder blades where delicate fabric and soft skin met. The hook came open without effort and delight raced through him as he heard a bubbly laugh escape her throat. The zipper parted just as easily, exposing the glorious length of her back. The bustier fell to the floor, and as it did, George wrapped his arms around Izzie's waist and held her close. He pressed his lips to her neck and felt her entire being melt into his. His hands smoothed across her belly, onto her hips, then under the waistband of her panties. He lowered them slowly down her legs and he found himself kneeling before her, just as she turned and found his eyes.
"I love you so much," he whispered tenderly, kissing and caressing her thighs.
"Show me," she replied, slipping in between the sheets.
George climbed in to the bed, feeling her desire heating him. He laid on top of his wife's body, holding her face in his hands, relishing her deep, passionate kisses. Their hunger for each other began to speed and spiral as Izzie's hands made short work of his boxers; then she took hold of his aroused member and began to massage it.
George's eyelids fluttered and closed as she gently thumbed the head of his penis. Her touch had never felt this good. "Oh, Izzie," he moaned as he pressed deep, wet kisses on her throat.
While she continued to work on him, he brushed his fingertips against her softest skin, raising a breathy sigh from her. Using the bare minimum of pressure, he traced her womanhood as it became hotter and wetter with every moment of contact.
George opened his eyes and looked into Izzie's. "Now?" he asked.
She smiled. "Yes."
At that, she let go of him and opened her thighs a little more, allowing him to slip into her. Izzie's eyes closed again. "Oh, George," she whispered. "You feel so good."
"So do you," he said, rocking his pelvis against hers as he thrust himself deeper into her warm and welcoming body – deeper, he thought, than ever before. Loud moans and cries escaped their throats. His arms embraced her as her legs wrapped around his hips and they fell into a primal, passionate rhythm that started out slow and easy, then built and built and built, until they seemed to moving at an incredible speed.
Then Izzie's back arched sharply off the mattress and her eyes opened wider than he'd ever seen them, as she shouted his name again and again so loudly that it startled him for an instant. A moment later, he felt pressure rising in his thighs and stomach, followed rapidly by the pulsing pleasure of that pressure being relieved, and he let out a short series of hard cries.
Their bodies came to rest again. Heart rates slowed. Satisfied exhalations rose from them.
Izzie nestled deeper into his gentle embrace. "Thank you, Mr. O'Malley," she said.
George kissed her brow. "You're welcome, Mrs. O'Malley," he replied.
She smiled as she began to drift to sleep. "I love hearing you say that," she whispered.
He squeezed her just a bit tighter as he relaxed into his own peaceful slumber. "I love saying it," he whispered back.
The End