Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay in an update, but life has been CRACK-A-LACKA lately. Hopefully this makes up for it? Honestly, I hate the ending, but after tinkering and tinkering I just have to let it go and move forward. There is probably only one chapter left after this one, though it might stretch into two. Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, followed/favorited. I appreciate the interest more than I can say. So...without further ado...
The Bourne Convergence
Ch. 4
The quarters were confined, cramped and designed for one person, but with all the thick angst flooding the air, it made things impossibly tighter. She didn't know what to say at first. Date? "You don't really believe that?" He almost looked like he didn't, but he wasn't disputing the claim either and so she wasn't sure? "Aaron, you were late." It was all the explanation she could manage to get out.
He nodded and dropped his gaze to the floor, running a quick hand over his boyish face, the one hidden under a couple days worth of stubble. "I know."
She took a step closer. "I wondered whether..." Her voice trailed off for a weak moment. "I thought that maybe..."
"...I was dead," he finished for her, finding her worried gaze and holding it. It made the heart in his chest beat a little stronger.
She nodded, ringing her hands nervously and feeling very exposed all of a sudden. "Jason showed up and got me out of there, and I'm not going to apologize for choosing to live."
He smiled softly. "I don't want you to apologize, doc, it was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do."
"So why are you so angry?"
He swallowed, shaking his head and feeling the weight of the truth that was slowly strangling him. "I'm not angry, I'm just..."
"What?" she nearly shouted in frustration.
He squared his shoulders, staring hard. "You seem comfortable with Bourne," she blinked, "and you look great, by the way." The edge to his tone was back. His gaze raked over the lavender dress carefully, incriminating in its judgement.
Marta scoffed aloud, not bothering to hide her hurt. "So you think that I assumed you dead and decided, what the hell, I may as well eat with the new guy?"
He stood slowly, shaking his head because that wasn't the point at all. "I think that now..." He stopped, blowing out a breath of annoyance. "You should understand that there are options."
She had a genius IQ that surpassed even the super-sized intellect of the designed man across from her, but she wasn't getting his true meaning in the slightest. "What are you talking about?"
He frowned, easing back onto the table so that he could wrap his hands around the edge of the wood and hold on. "I'm saying that there are," he paused briefly, clearing his throat, "other ways to ensure your safety."
"Oh." It was a miracle her voice worked at all.
It was incredibly stuffy in this room.
He couldn't take it anymore and stood again, walking closer but keeping enough space so as not to touch her. He found her large eyes and got lost in them. "If you wanted, really wanted, we could consider other arrangements."
She couldn't breathe.
He grinned wistfully, tucking a stray hair behind her ear before collecting himself. "Marta, I owe you everything."
That woke her up from her numbed state. She knew she was awake because her heart was cracking in her chest.
Owe...I owe you...
"Right, yeah," she muttered lightly, turning toward the bunk and beginning to fuss with the old sheets. "No," she breathed aloud, trying to wrap her head around what he was saying to her, "I'm sorry, I never thought about, I mean, I should have realized..."
His hand touched her arm and she flinched, moving backward on instinct. She found the wounded expression on his face and swallowed. "I'm sorry that I never stopped to consider what this was doing," she illustrated by waving her hand between them. "You and I both know that they wouldn't be able to touch you if it wasn't for me. They'd never get close enough." She moved again, putting more space between them until the wall of the bathroom prevented anymore distance. "I've learned a ton about survival and you're a great teacher Aaron." He was just looking at her. "I'm sure we can come up with something that will work better for the both of us." She really couldn't breathe.
He watched her from the moment she started to ramble, taking in her hurt and anxiety with every stroke of his well-trained eye. The rigidity of her spine told him of her bravery, something he was already well acquainted with, and the professional tone in her voice spoke more about her mask than the true emotions she was feeling and trying to hide from him.
He walked forward until they were face to face, both arms bracketing her securely against the cracked wall like an impenetrable fence. She wasn't going anywhere, not yet, not like this. Her dark eyes rose slowly, finding him with caution. It twisted him up inside to see such uncertainty shining back. "I didn't come after you out of obligation." His frown felt immovable. She blinked and swallowed, but didn't shy away, and he could feel his blood stir. "Marta, you're not some debt to be repaid. You have to know that?"
She believed him.
The thing about Number Five that has always been different from the other project participants, was the truth that flashed from his slate eyes. He was deadly and capable of horrible things. He was a soldier whose abilities went far beyond the normal expectations. He was methodical, intelligent, composed and determined, and he wanted to be more for his country and for his honor. But...
She licked her lips, fighting a growing flame in her belly as he continued to study her closely, so deliciously close. His breath warmed her lips and made her mouth water and her heart beat.
Despite all the skills and duty, despite a shocking will to survive at all cost and the frame of mind to succeed no matter the situation, more than anything else he was Aaron. The person who bucked the system and flirted with her on thirteen separate occasions over four years. The man who dropped from a rooftop in Manilla to rescue her though his need for her services was no longer required. The guy who taught her to live and like it, even when everything she has ever known was lost. He had the widest heart, and no amount of training could strip it away. She saw him, his truth, and a small smile touched the edge of her lips a split second before he was finally kissing her firmly, slowly, with soft intent. It was innocent and sweet, and a long, long time coming.
It felt inevitable.
Aaron stayed stock still, gently retreating enough to find her gorgeous face with his own apprehension. This was uncharted territory for them. It changed everything, flipped it upside down and backwards until nothing was the same. He held his breath and waited, and when she opened her eyes he finally released the air from his lungs in a heavy rush. Her bright, clear desire was electric under his skin, and he didn't hesitate in kissing her again and deepening the contact with his own telltale need.
Her nails were at his neck, scraping the short hair and putting a new type of tension in his hard body. He has wanted her for awhile, long before he was anything more than a number attached to some bloodwork, and though he should probably spend a little time trying to figure out why that is, it wasn't going to happen right now.
Her moan sparked against his searching tongue, and he felt the contact drop between his legs with a swiftness. It wasn't the only thing. "Marta," he breathed, the sound hitching in his throat when her hand began to stroke him enthusiastically against his restrictive jeans. Fuck! He never let his mind go there too directly before, but he always suspected she was a get-to-the-point kind of girl, and her aggressive toying with the hardening cock in his pants sort of supported his hunch.
He pressed her into the wall, using his body to pin her securely and kiss her soundly and with promise. Her whimpers were swallowed eagerly, making him ache as they made out unrestrained in the bowels of a thrashing ship. She scratched his ribs, trying to work his burgundy tshirt off his body, and the sharp intake of his breath stopped them in their fevered tracks.
"How bad is it?" she croaked, remembering the resounding crack when Bourne's fist landed at that damn floating restaurant. That seemed like a lifetime ago now. "Are they broken?"
He curled into her neck and chuckled lightly, breathing for control over a body that was not in physical pain but physical torture. It was not lost on him that she was the one that couldn't shut off the practical side of her nature, and though it was cute, he preferred to focus on the nipples that were poking through lavender silk and driving him a particular brand of crazy.
He finally found her patient doctor gaze, wanting to be looking into them when she shattered into a million hot pieces. "It's good," he answered, biting her lower lip playfully for half a second, "just a little tender." He liked the way she bit that same lip in response.
She stared, trying to determine whether he was blowing her off or being honest. "We could wrap them? It might make your breathing easier."
Aaron grinned, sliding his flat palms over her round hips and tearing the zipper at her lower back with strength. He rubbed her shoulders and dragged the straps of her gown away, watching as the cloth fell into a pool at her feet. "It's not sore ribs affecting my breathing, doc." He really needed to touch her everywhere.
She lifted his shirt again, taking a much easier approach at undressing him. The material went soaring across the old wooden floor, and Marta was studying him with renewed interest. She knew him well, the perfect muscle that worked more efficiently than mere mortals, and the smooth scars that he never talked about unless it was pertinent to her knowing how they came to be. This was different though, now was...different. She could appreciate how he made her breath actually stick in her throat like a lead weight. He was so beautiful. She could run her hands over his body to feel the thumping of his strong heart. It wasn't about blood cell counts or burn dosages. It was Aaron.
"Am I losing you?" he teased, forcing eye contact with a smile on his lips.
She shook her head, snapping out of her wonder long enough to flush with embarassment. She really wanted him, every hot and strong inch. Marta bent to the yellowing, ugly bruise at his side, running her tongue over the wound with care. She smiled, brushing her soft lips over the sore spot as a large shudder ripped through him from head to toe. He had her head and then he had her lips, and she sighed into the depths of his hungry mouth as they resumed their exploration.
He was good at this. She wasn't surprised since he was good at everything else, but he was really, really good at this - and he had on way too many clothes. She pulled on the front of his jeans, popping the button and tugging a little, and then she was panting heavily into the room because he was travelling the skin of her neck and leaving a trail of wet fire as he moved. Lord.
He stopped, stopped everything, and she blinked in shock and confusion as he hovered over her with his hands once again on the flat surface of the wall. Her heart was tripping on itself with excitement. There was his truth, right where it always was, staring straight through her. He wanted to do things to her and fuck if she didn't want that too. "Aaron." His grin rung her out completely, twisting her into a knot of anticipation.
This man.
He ran his finger over her collarbone, appreciating the softness of her unmarked skin. She was a thing of beauty and he had permission to touch her. It was... This felt important. He started on the plump bottom lip that beckoned to him fiercely, and then he pulled his gaze lower, taking in every bare piece that he could find - the swell of her perfect breasts pushing against a basic white bra, and the narrow V of her slender waistline. Her ribs were a little gaunt, and so when he was through making her tremble and scream, he would find her a healthy meal and get her to eat it. She was going to need her strength. He grinned again, deliriously happy at the thought.
His visual tour of her body continued, and he swallowed hard. Her panties were small and white and looked incredibly soft to the touch. They weren't fancy Victoria Secret specials, but there was absolutely nothing unattractive about the shiny material. He couldn't really imagine her looking bad in anything though. She was stunning.
Whenever he would sit on a cold exam table waiting to be stuck with more needles, a part of him would wonder what Dr. Shearing looked like beneath her stuffy lab coat. It was pure fantasy of course - the librarian with the medical degree - but now here they were together and she was a very willing participant to what was happening here.
The doctor and her spy!
He honed in on the black thigh high stockings that went with the discarded lavender dress. He frowned a little, not thrilled that Bourne was so thorough with his disguises. "Tell me doc," he began gruffly, taking a step backward and lifting his hand in offering, "you sure this is the move you want to make?" He waited to see if she would take his palm.
She didn't hesitate.
"Aaron," she replied, staring at him unwaveringly, "we started making this move in Manilla. I don't know about you, but I'm tired of pretending otherwise."
He smiled again, and it was bright. It reflected the happiness and relief that came to life at her declaration. "Yeah," he acknowledged, sliding a fist into her hair and tugging a little.
"Yeah," she breathed heatedly.
He nodded.
Marta blinked, stuck on the intensity that was shining from deep grey with flecks of soft blue, mesmerizing in their power over her. Their attraction has been mutual long before it was allowed, and now there was nothing between them, not even their forced denial. It was overwhelming...and it was seductive. She moved in reverse, stopping short when the bunk hit her across the back of her thighs, and she reached behind and opened her bra. The cloth disappeared at their feet. His eyes boiled, taking in the sight of her and she felt that familiar shake in her bones again. It only compounded when he bent forward and kissed her desperately and a little sloppy. She could taste his need. His rough fingers raked her spine, and she panted unevenly while he nipped her chin before sinking lower, wetting her hot skin on the way to her bare chest.
He didn't want to play anymore.
Aaron sank into her, kissing her like it was something he has dreamt about for most of his adult life, at least the good part. His hands were travelling, discovering her lush chest and feeling the weight with appreciative interest. His thumbs pressed against her nipples, causing a distinctly sexual gasp to vibrate along his eager tongue. Everything was so much better than he ever imagined in the restrictive confines of his imagination. She was very real, and warm, and soft enough to make him throb.
She was opening his pants and sliding into his fitted boxers, and he sucked in sharply over her smiling lips. He pushed at the waist of his jeans, shoving the heavy material away with her enthusiastic help. The swish and thud were the best sounds in the room, that is until he twisted her nipple and made her cry out in surprise. His thundering heart stopped pumping. The only beat was in his cock.
She didn't really need that much foreplay. Truthfully, since that fateful day in a Maryland farmhouse their entire relationship has been a gradual build up of tension. Marta kissed his chest, memorizing his unique flavour while they both removed his underwear in less than ten seconds of effort. His wide palms were on her lower back, gripping her with strength and tossing her onto the one-man bunk with ease. It was a smart move. Now she could wrap her legs around him the way she longed to do.
He pressed against her, hissing at the intimate contact. There was no way to disguise her desire, it was soaking into the satin of her panties and warming his burning flesh as he ground harder. "AARON!" she shouted, chuckling when he was cooing in her ear, encouraging her to keep the volume down a bit.
Marta bit her lip hard.
He tilted her closer and slid their last barrier away, and when it was flesh on hot, aching flesh - she leaned forward and bit his lip this time.
He responded, entering her in one devastating thrust, and the look of total surrender on her flushed face nearly did him in before they got truly started. He concentrated on his breathing, trying not to notice the way she was leaning backward and propping herself up on her elbows. Her head dropped, exposing the smooth line of her neck, and he thrust again, watching intently as her breasts bounced in time with their bodies. He was in a lot of trouble.
His hands moved on their own, no longer taking direction from his burnt out brain. This was all instinct, and instinct told him to do whatever he had to do to keep her writhing and sexy and in his line of sight. Shit! He began to move carefully, enjoying the display in front of him as her occasional gasp made him tighten everywhere. She lifted her head and sought out his eyes, and he bent quickly, overrun with a need to kiss her slow and deep. It was erotic. He never really did erotic before Dr. Shearing.
He shifted again, sharpening the roll of his hips until her stunted air began to transform into tiny cries of pleasure. Oh yeah, this was working for the both of them. Fuck, she was wet. He kissed down her perfect neck, stopping to suck at the pulse point that was pounding an insane rhythm into his blood. Her body was gripping him, pulling. He wanted more and badly.
Marta wrapped her arms around his strong shoulders, holding on while he played her like a finely tuned instrument. She was no stranger to sex or intimacy, and almost married a man who she thought was her equal in every conceivable way. They had been amazing together, wonderful, but never quite so sinfully consuming as what was happening here. She felt different, she felt safe. Maybe it was just the level of focus that Aaron naturally put into every thing he did, or maybe it was because she trusted him so profoundly that she was pretty sure she'd kill for him if it came to that?
Maybe it was because he was the most real thing she's ever known?
Whatever it was, it was working and very well. Her heart was about to combust in her chest, and her arms tightened around him, allowing her nails to scrape over his smooth, imperfect skin. His air burned against her neck, and then he was sucking a taut nipple into the moist cavern of his mouth and she was screaming out, ignoring his earlier suggestion wholeheartedly.
His knee rose onto the bunk, forcing them together so deeply that she blinked, wide-eyed at the full sensation as he settled into her overwrought body. He thrust hard, and again, fucking her while curling tightly into her neck and pushing them both to the end of their long distance race. Her legs grabbed ahold, keeping up with his assertions until there was nowhere left to go but up.
And up was fabulous!
She screamed one last piercing time, convulsing around him while he continued to rock into her body with smooth, sure strokes. Everything crashed. It fell. She shook around him, breathing past the gibberish that was pouring from her throat like a flood.
All she could do was hold on and breathe. She never felt so good in her entire life.
He was losing his control, which was a little scary for him. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, but his body was listening to the shouts from her lips and the corresponding wave as she stretched against him, and so there was no way to stop his urgency as he climbed onto the thin mattress and began to fuck her. He closed his eyes, squeezing as he moved, hiding in the inviting crook of her soft neck. She was pressure personified and he wouldn't have it any other way. He jutted, rutted, dug hard and deep. The rhythm he had was long gone, and then all he knew was the feel of her exploding around him and falling over the very cliff that he was about to leap off of head first.
He lifted his head quickly, watching as she shattered, taking in the widening pupils and the reckless air. He got his moment - to see her come undone - and now it was his turn. Aaron buried his face into her silky hair and cried out, forgetting that it wasn't exactly stealth to be shouting into the night. He let himself go, cumming with a fierceness that stole the last of his cry and killed it on the spot. He held her, shaking through his orgasm, and when it was over he fell, surprisingly comfortable with the vulnerable state that he suddenly found himself in.
That was... He lay perfectly still, shivering as her nails danced over his lower back and the top of his bare ass in comfort.
She squirmed a little and he rose slowly, using his arms to give her a break from his dead body weight. He opened his mouth to speak, but wasn't really sure what to say?
She raked her fingers through his sweat-stained hair and touched his mouth. "No regrets, right?"
Aaron grinned widely, more relieved than he ever expected by those three little words. "No," he replied, kissing her with a newfound hunger. It was emotion, not passion, and it was more powerful than anything.
Marta chuckled lightly against his lips, enjoying the look of confusion on his handsome face. "I think our big concern right now is figuring out how to fit comfortably on this damn bunk?"
He chuckled too, easing to the side and draping her over his body until she was lying on top of him. "You're a genius and I have a government sanctioned IQ. We'll figure it out." His hands automatically gravitated toward the dark thigh highs still encasing her soft legs.
She licked her lips, trying not to focus on the fact that he was growing against her thigh so early after their encounter. Those chemicals definitely had their advantages. "Hmmmm..." she sighed, staring into his watchful gaze. "Thank you for coming for me, Aaron."
He just looked at her. "There was never any other option, Marta."
"Because you owe me?"
He touched her face before sliding his fingers downward, stopping on her breast. He shook his head, no. "Not owe, need."
She bent, taking his mouth firmly until they were both breathing a lot heavier. "So what do you think about this position? Conducive to sleep?"
His hands fisted in her hair and they were kissing again, slowly but with a clear and leading purpose. Sleep was not going to be part of the agenda.
Marta found that she was okay with a trial by error process. I mean, eventually they would find a way to be comfortable together on this one-man bed...right?