The Wedding - The Night - The Newlyweds
She's still in shock.
She's shocked, and overwhelmed and, yet, so freaking happy at the same time.
"Oh my gosh!" She shrieks, running down the hallway and tugging him along behind her.
She's a bundle of nerves, her mind is reeling and her legs are weak, but none of that matters because she's happy. She's happy, and she's married.
They did it. They really did it and, to be honest, she's still a little stunned.
She had somehow ran out on her wedding to hitch herself to someone else, the someone she should have been marrying in the first place.
It was the right choice; she knows that much, she no longer bares any guilt or confusion. She knows what she wanted, she's sure of it, and she got it; she got him.
She feels his hands meet her waist over the thick fabric of her dress and she leans back against him. Her head falls back to his shoulder and she smiles up at him, her hands searching to find his jacket. She twists herself around and grasps the collars of his shirt.
"Jackson?"
He grins and stares down at her, slipping a hand past her waist to open the door to their room for the night. "Yeah?"
His voice is low and husky and she chews on her bottom lip, her nostrils flaring in eager, "We're married."
They'd rushed down to Lake Tahoe, found the quickest possible way of getting married and then they'd run off. Again.
He'd found the hotel about twenty minutes away from the venue, and they were somewhere along the border between California and Nevada. It was nice, classy, and he'd made sure that the girl at the reception had given them the Honeymoon Suite. Granted, they wouldn't be here for long, but he intended to give his new wife the whole deal.
They were married, they were tied. Together, forever. And he never wanted to get out of their bind.
The door behind her opens and he carelessly throws the keycard onto the floor in the suite before he pauses. She goes to move into their room, her hands holding the hem of her dress up as she walks but he stops her from entering the doorway. She raises a brow out of curiosity and shrieks when he picks her up then, his right arm hooking behind the backs of her knees.
She throws her arms around his neck and giggles into the side of his neck when he kicks the door shut behind them.
He drops her back down on the bed, the creased material of her now worn-in wedding dress spreading beneath her. She bites her lip, tucking her fallen strands of hair behind her ears.
"I love you."
She'll never grow tired of hearing it. She knows it.
"I love you, too."
She reaches to grasp his shirt, pulling him down to her level and letting him ease her down onto the mattress. Shoes are kicked off and socks follow, and he chooses to ignore the fact that she'd obviously been prepared for running since she was wearing sneakers beneath her gown. She frowns when her dress gets between them; it's been so long. She needs this, needs him.
"Wait, wait."
Jackson pauses, lifting his hands from her waist and allowing her to move out from under him, "What is it?"
"I wanna do this right." She turns her back toward him, and cups her hands over her chest, "Unzip me?"
He stands back up, rolling his shirt sleeves back up his forearms before he grasps the tiny zip along the low of her back, pulling it down.
He pops open the buttons along her spine, fingertips tracing her shoulder-blades and skin.
"You good?" He grins and she licks her lips, moving away from him before she turns back around, letting the white gown fall down to the floor.
She steps out of the dress, suddenly feeling his intense gaze staring down at her, with need and love and everything in between.
He notices her attire then, the white lace and the tight garter and the incredibly-slutty pearl thong.
"You-" eyebrows raised and mouth open, he's mesmerised.
His April, the one who had spent thirty years with her legs closed was wearing a thong and looking so delectable that he found himself feeling guilty for staring at her. She was naturally timid, and petite, and as much as he had tried, he had never once imagined her like this. But he was loving it. Of course he was.
She shrugs her shoulders, chewing on her lip for a second before she steps toward him, hands on his shoulders and eyes wide.
He tries to ignore the bad feeling in his gut when she pushes him back on the bed and straddles his lap, legs spread and eyes darkening.
She wasn't dressed like this for him; it had been for someone else. Someone who didn't deserve it, didn't deserve her. Or, maybe he deserved her more.
But he couldn't, didn't want to, imagine her with another man, he had always felt a queasiness rattle his stomach whenever he saw her kissing the other guy. He didn't want to think about her being touched, being seen, being loved by another man.
She was his. Only his. And he was hers.
"Jackson?" She voices with a gentle grin, biting down on her bottom lip as her palms trace his shirted-chest and she squeezes her legs tighter around his thighs.
"Yeah?" It comes out husky, deep-throated, almost like he could barely breathe.
April smiles, "We're married."
"I know."
He smirks, hands gripping her waist when her smaller fingers find the buttons of his shirt, slowly pulling it open.
He leans up on his elbows so she can push the material from his shoulders, hands meeting flesh and eyes lustful.
It's been a long time, perhaps too long, and she can't wait to touch him, and kiss him, and let him do whatever he wanted to her.
His hands run through her red hair after she drops his shirt to the ground, fingertips tracing his tanned muscles, moving across his collarbone and grasping the sides of his face as he leans up to kiss her.
His right hand meets her behind, thumb messing with the flimsy undergarment. She giggles and reaches behind her to grab his hand, pulling away from his lips.
"What?"
"That tickles."
"Well then, how about we take it off?" He gleams up at her like a schoolboy getting to second base and she rolls her eyes when he grips her hips again and flips them over, pinning her beneath him.
Jackson kisses her briefly on her swollen lips before he travels lower, tongue meeting bone and eyes never leaving her own. He can feel her chest beginning to pound beneath his touch, especially when he drops his hands to her breasts for a second, fingertips curving around her sides.
He grins when she softly moans, eyes closed and digs her way into the pillow beneath her head.
His hands move from her hips to her thighs, pulling them up abruptly and thumbs swirling around the lace over her pelvis.
"You're killing me." He mutters, green eyes sparkling and resembling those of a venomous snake.
The redhead giggles again, bringing her hands to the back of his head as he pushes the garment over her hips and up her flat stomach.
He holds it up below her breasts, sweeping his lips across her abdomen and nuzzling his nose against her pelvis, a small glint in his eye as she gulps with a soft sigh.
"Jackson-"
"I know."
He knows her. He knows everything about her. He knows every part of her. He's the only man, the only person, to ever truly know her that well, to remember every sensitive spot and every crease in her body, to memorise her. He loves it, loves her.
She shifts beneath him, pulling the skimpy lingerie off of herself, fed up with waiting. She runs a hand down the back of his skull when he moves lower, lips tracing the insides of her thighs and teeth dragging the garter down her leg. He smirks proudly when she collapses back down, eyes shut tight and mouth ajar.
"Jackson-"
He ignores her then, pulling the pink and white striped cloth down her leg with his hand, dropping it carelessly before he runs his palms back up her legs, spreading her legs at the same time.
"Please?"
It's almost a beg, a plea. She cups the sides of his face when he kisses her lips again, her teeth gracing his lower lip and eyes staring into his. His fingers hook down the sides of her thong and he pauses.
He's doing this right, this time. She deserves to be cherished, to be adored. She deserves slow and romantic, not some quick hook-up in a bathroom stall.
She's worth more than that, they're worth more than that. And he wants to give her everything, all of him.
Her hands find his belt, quickly discarding it and unzipping his trousers, hands slipping down the back. He laughs quietly when she pinches his butt, a small grin on her face.
"Enjoying yourself?"
"Definitely."
He shakes his head with an amused smile and kisses her again, more passionately than before and with more pressure, more need. He craves it, craves her. And he knows now more than ever that the feeling is returned.
There is no guilt, to shame.
There's just him, and her, and the issues and forgotten conversations that lingered between them have disappeared. If not just for now.
There is just them, and a bed, and a different state, and vows. To love and to cherish. To adore and promise. To heal and help. For life.
He backs away for a second to pull his pants away, taking his boxers with them at the same time, before he joins her again, hands split between her waist and thigh.
She thrusts up into him, hips curling and chest panting.
She needs it, needs him. More than anyone, more than ever.
He slips his hands down her back, pulling the thin material covering her pride down as he goes, and she lifts her behind easily to allow him to slip the item off.
Once he drops it beside them on the floor, she wraps her legs around his thighs, arms around his shoulders and she chews on her lip.
He's so close, and she's so desperate, and they've waited long enough.
She has waited long enough.
Because, in the end, she did wait for her husband. It just happened at an odd time in a different place than she had planned and with someone that she had never expected, someone she would, could, never replace.
She feels him reach between them and place himself against her centre, her throat dry and lips raw.
It's him, it's always been him.
"I love you." He leans his forehead against her own, a small frown on his face as he slowly eases into her, watching as she gasps at the sensation.
Over a year yet it still feels the same. They still feel the same.
The chemistry is still alight, the spark is still alive, and she can still feel those tingles running up and down her spine when he grabs her waist and pulls her closer, moving faster within her walls.
Her hips curve, roll and buckle upwards into him, her small hands finding the sides of his neck to support herself. Her eyes drift shut and she lightly cries when he thrusts harder, her legs pulling up at his sides.
She links her ankles behind his backside, and her fingernails dig into his flesh. Her back arches and she licks her lips when he traces his mouth down the side of her neck, suckling and nibbling her pale skin.
She could never grow tired of him, of every feeling that he brings out in her.
"Jackson-!" She moans, knuckles whitening as she clasps her hands behind his neck, head throwing back as she feels herself reaching her climax.
He glides his fingers from her waist to her face, thumb tracing her chin sweetly as he continues to meet her every move, increasing the speed of his thrusts as he feels himself nearing.
"Argh!"
He grunts, leaning into her, forehead to her collarbone and slowing his speed as he follows her to completion, head turning to watch as she finishes her orgasm, chest heavy and lips shredded from her own, and his, teeth.
"That-"
She nods, letting her back contort and pushing her chest up into his, unintentionally with satisfaction.
"Yes!"
She collapses back down on the bed, hair sprawled around her from falling from her plait and eyes closed.
He copies her, hips still moving until he finishes in her, body pressing into hers and breath mixing with her own as he leans across slightly to kiss her.
She smiles against his mouth, hands cupping his face and he grins like a child.
"We're married."
"Me and you."
There is just them. Him, and her, and a whole bunch of complications that don't need attention right now.
There is him, and there is her, and there is them. Together. Bound. Tethered. Forever.