Author's Note: Yet another entry in the "Caliban Fanservice" verse. I AM NOT REMOTELY SORRY ABOUT THIS. It's too much fun to write. Also this is the first fic to utilize Ethan, who is a *gift* to write. Enjoy.
English Summer Rain
Vanessa Ives never minded a storm, save for when she got caught in one on her way home without an umbrella.
The lovely dark-haired woman hurried along the boulevard as fast as her dress and heeled boots would allow, but by the time she reached the manor, she was thoroughly drenched.
Sighing in frustration and wishing that she had caught a carriage ride instead of walking, Vanessa pushed the front door open and stepped inside. She then headed immediately for the parlor so she could warm up by the fire.
She expected to find her fiancé, Caliban, sitting on the couch reading, but he was nowhere in sight. Instead, her friend Ethan Chandler was standing by one of the large windows that faced the garden in the back of the house, staring out intently at something.
He was completely silent, which was somewhat unusual. She cleared her throat to alert him to the fact that he was not alone, but all this resulted in was a brief glance and nod before he went back to gazing at whatever it was.
While she was curious as to what had captivated the wolf, it was important to dry off first, so once she had stopped shivering, she politely excused herself in order to go change.
On her way to her bedroom, she poked her head in the library, but her beloved was not there either.
This somewhat perplexed her, but she headed into her room and quickly shed her still damp clothes, shaking her long curls out before choosing a dark blouse and skirt to wear.
When she made it back into the parlor, she found Ethan still standing by the window.
"What could possibly be holding your attention so…" she moved to stand next to him, her words dying and breath hitching when she finally saw what it, or rather, who it was. "Oh…"
Caliban was out in the garden, in the rain, picking roses – and wearing a white shirt that was soaked through and clinging to his torso in a manner that left little to the imagination of the strong, exquisitely muscled form that was underneath.
As if he could sense her presence, he looked over in her direction, smiled, and waved.
Her heart fluttered in her chest at the look on his handsome face, and she waved back before whispering: "Ethan, you have two seconds to explain why my betrothed is out in the rain gathering roses…without a coat."
"You're welcome," Ethan chuckled.
She turned to glare at her friend and didn't hesitate in giving him a good whack upside the head. "Ethan Chandler that is not a proper explanation!"
The handsome werewolf winced and rubbed at the now sore spot right behind his ear. "Ow! Hey, I was trying to do you a favor!"
"How is sending the man I love out into a torrential storm a favor?!"
"First of all… I only informed him that your favorite flowers were roses when he asked. It was his idea to pick them. And I did ask him if he should wear a coat but he insisted that he doesn't feel the elements the same as you or I, so I didn't argue the point. The fact that he's wearing white today is entirely coincidental."
Vanessa crossed her arms over her chest and glowered further at him. "And you decided that there was no harm in staring at him in the meantime, did you?"
"Sweetheart, your future husband is a very attractive man. I happen to appreciate male and female beauty and I understand the concept of 'look but don't touch'. And don't stand there pretending that you're not imagining ripping that shirt clean off him once you get him alone." Ethan arched an eyebrow, his warm brown eyes twinkling with mischief.
She blushed bright pink at the insinuation (though there was truth to it), but before she could come up with a retort, she noticed that Caliban was signaling to her.
She looked back at him and nodded once she realized that he was gesturing that he would be coming back in through the kitchen door. "We will have to continue this discussion later, Ethan," she moved past him and began to head towards the kitchen.
"Have fun!" he called out cheerfully, which made her roll her eyes even as a fond smile crossed her lips.
When she walked through the double-doors that lead to the kitchen, she found Caliban at the sink, carefully arranging the flowers in a vase for her.
As she drew near, she could discern the outline of the scar on his right shoulder thanks to how transparent his shirt had become due to the rain. He didn't seem the least bit bothered by being so damp, though he did tuck some of his hair back over his ear when it fell into his eyes.
Finally, she was close enough to touch him, so she carefully grasped at his arm so not to startle him. "What did you do: pluck all the roses from the garden?" she whispered.
"All but the most beautiful and rare," he murmured, turning to face her. He reached out and trailed his fingers lightly over her cheek. "For she is not to be conquered."
"Oh that is not fair," she draped her arms over his broad shoulders. "Roses and poetry? While looking like…" she raked her eyes appreciatively – and very slowly – over him. "Like a verse from Byron?"
That was putting it mildly; now that he was mere inches away, it was impossible not to stare. The white shirt was showing no sign of drying out, and it stuck to his skin in such a way that he may as well have not been wearing one at all. Her attention was immediately distracted by this: her gaze roaming over every visible scar and the hard planes of his chest and abdomen. The collar of the garment had been left open to expose his clavicle, where one of the most livid scars ran across his pale flesh, and she was suddenly consumed with the urge to lick over his throat. It was not helping matters that his hair was framing his face in damp waves. A more appropriate analogy would have been comparing him to a hero from one of her friend Catriona's romance novels—a guilty pleasure that both women shared—but she was not about to admit to that.
Caliban, of course, was quick to notice how attentively she was looking at him, and could not help the smirk that crossed his lips. "You don't appear to mind, my love."
She shook her head, standing on tip-toe in order to nuzzle her nose to his. "I am not minding at all."
The smirk morphed into a warm smile, and he curled his arms around her waist to draw her to him for a sweet, romantic kiss.
The embrace started slowly, but soon gave way to passion, the pair teasing at each other's mouths until Vanessa tugged back for air. "I hate it when Ethan's right…" she grumbled, her fingers digging into the wet fabric that (unfortunately) covered his chest.
Caliban chuckled. "What is the wolf right about this time?"
"The fact that I want to rip this shirt off you."
Golden eyes sparkled with amusement at her admission. "If you keep on ruining my clothes, Miss Ives, perhaps I should simply wander around naked."
She shook her head rapidly. "No, that would be very, very bad. Ethan may actually pounce on you."
His mirthful expression fell slightly. "Good point."
This time, she was the one who laughed. "His crush on you seems to be growing day by day."
"So long as he knows who my heart belongs to," he touched his forehead to hers.
"Trust me, he knows," she whispered, her hands moving to rest right over his heart.
He kissed her again and then effortlessly hoisted her up and carried her out into the hallway.
She looped her arms about his neck to hold on, pressing soft kisses along the scar that ran along the side of his face as they made their way towards the grand staircase.
They passed Ethan when they headed to the upper level of the manor, and he made another playful comment that they both rolled their eyes over, but soon enough they arrived at her bedroom: where Vanessa could finally indulge her desire to get her beloved out of his wet clothes.
That shirt, of course, was the first thing to go, torn open and then shrugged off hastily right before his lips found hers once more.
Her blouse and skirt were next, the pair embracing ardently as garment after garment formed a pile on the floor and they backed towards the bed.
By the time they crashed back onto the mattress, they were completely naked, their limbs entangling instinctively while hands began to wander.
It never took long for Vanessa to become lost in Caliban, as everything about him intoxicated her: his touch, his taste… the sensation of his cool skin against her own. She carded her fingers through his hair and held him close as he worshipped her body with kisses and caresses, until she could take the teasing no longer, turned the tides with a quick twist, and effectively trapped him under her.
She took her time to devote as much attention to him as he had to her: lavishing every scar with affection and delighting in the way his body would arc into her touch when she lingered over more sensitive areas.
Though he never minded being at her mercy, his hands weaved into her now tousled curls and he gently tugged her back up to meet her mouth with his.
The kiss they shared was languid as Caliban turned and bore her back beneath him, then settled his body on top of hers.
He pulled away to gaze down at her, his beautiful eyes filled with such trust and love that it left her breathless.
She ran her fingers along his chest, sliding one leg against his as she arched her hips in an invitation that he gladly took, and then they were one and everything else ceased to matter.
They made love several times over the course of the afternoon, stopping only when they were entirely sated.
Exhausted yet content, Vanessa stretched lazily against her fiancé, their legs entangling further beneath the sheets that were twisted around them. She pressed a kiss to the center of his chest, then murmured: "I shouldn't have bothered changing, now that I think about it. I could have had you in my bed a lot sooner."
Caliban's laugh was a low, pleasant rumble. "I told you to take an umbrella when you left the house."
"Says the man who went out into the downpour to pick roses for his future bride…" she tilted her chin up, admiring the alluring image he made. "Which I just realized we left in the kitchen."
"I'll retrieve them later," he promised, bringing her hand up to his lips and brushing them tenderly against the finger that possessed her engagement ring.
She smiled, then snuggled further into his arms and allowed the soft patter of rain on the windowsill to lull her into a nap.
He rested his chin against her hair, shut his eyes as well, and joined her.
The End