The first time they had made love, Edmund strove to bear his weight on his arms, trying so hard not to crush her. (A sweet if unnecessary idea, since she was stronger than she looked, and in the times since, she had come to revel in the feel of him, the warm pressure of his body covering hers a physical delight as every sense filled with him.) His shoulder had screamed in agony even as she whimpered in muted ecstasy, and upon her return from the heights to which he had borne her, she noticed the tension and strain that had nothing to do with restraint on his part. A soothing liniment was applied and he had rested in her arms until dawn, quietly renewing his strength. Since then, at her insistence he not unduly tax himself, he had directed her to straddle him, his hands stripping all away and baring her fully to his gaze before gently resting on her hips to guide and steady her.
His gaze was full of admiration and longing, his touch was gentle yet exciting, and though she knew she was not much to look at, in his arms she felt beautiful. They were a pair: her with scars buried deep in her heart, him with scars more readily seen but still hidden from view. Yet they saw each other's wounds and imperfections and looked through them to the splendor that lay beneath.
He also granted her a rare intimacy, one that until that night had been the sole occasional domain of the woman who shared his name. Only in his wife's arms had he ever lain, and only in her arms had he ever loved. In Deborah's arms he slept, and rarer still, he slept without incident. He found he slept best when he lay curled against her- head pillowed on her breast, the steady thump thump of her heartbeat beneath his ear as soothing as a lullaby, her hands gently smoothing his brow or grazing the stubble that grew along his jawline or caressing the unmarred section of his bared back. To lay encircled in such a warm and loving embrace was a sure guard against bad dreams.
The nights he resided on his back, arms enfolding her as she curled into his side, the fingers of one hand absently twining in the wild curls that rippled down her back, he felt a strange sense of total peace. Her arm draped across his chest, comforting him even in her sleep, though she always took care to dream on his good side, and the look on her face was one of pure, innocent contentment. She reminded him of a cat with a full belly of cream napping in a sunny window- as though she could wish for nothing more in that moment. She was too far away to hear his heartbeat, but her head nestled just right into the hollow of his shoulder, and they fit together perfectly. He did not sleep as much when he held her in his arms, if only because he was generally occupied studying the relaxed curves of her face and winding an errant curl at her temple around his finger, marveling at the serenity that filled him.
To Edmund's mind, theirs was not lovemaking in the sense it was with Emily, but rather a deep, abiding, soul bound friendship that had taken a physical root as well. When he had slept with Emily it was usually a sense of borrowed closeness, similar occupation of a shared space rather than an intimate joining. She typically turned on her side facing the wall away from him, after either donning or straightening her nightgown, and though he always took great care to be gentle and she had no cause to fear, there was a tension to her when he eased himself around her, nestled behind like spoons in a drawer, that only left her as she slept. Deborah preferred the feel of their skin, only ever making sure the sheet shielded them from the chill night air, occasionally arranging it between them if it was more comfortable. But she seemed to crave being close, to adore the feel of being pressed against him, as though they might absorb the best of each other through osmosis. She could draw out the guilt and misery he had carried for so long and replace it with love and support; he could absorb her loneliness and instead let her feel cherished and beautiful and safe. The thought was so tender and hopeful. After the events of the past year, Edmund knew the power of hope but still found himself surprised when it presented from unexpected sources.
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. I'm still paring this lumbering plot bunny down to size. There's at least one more part to come, although I'm open to suggestions if you'd like to see something in particular.
As always, if you liked it (and even if you didn't) please R&R. Reviews make me happy.
A/N 2: Tweaked the ending. I wasn't quite happy with the original stopping point.