Author's Note: Thank you to all my reviewers, you guys really make my day. I suppose you have noticed the change in the rating of the done for last chapter's language but also in preparation for this chapter. This chapter contains SMUT. Pure all-out smut. If you think it's any good, pray let your views be heard. If you like it, I'll make sure to add more to the mix. LOL- edited 09/10/07. A light touch and 'tis done. ES
Disclaimers: Okay, we've pretty well established that I do not own V and am toying with the characters for my own (and your) amusement. I must say that I also do not own HIM, Ville Valo, or the song The Sacrament. I felt the words conveyed more about this chapter's action than anything I could have written myself. It was my mood music, so to speak. All hail Valo, as he is an awesomely sexy singer. I would like to own him, but sadly it is an illegal thing in my land and I must do without.
Settling Affairs
Gallowsmere
Stephen washed the last of his dishes and set them in the drainer. He whisked off the simple apron, tossed it down on the counter and bounded upstairs. He wore a warm-up suit, the fabric black and comfortable against his skin, and he needed his trainers to start his day.
39 hours.
He shook his head. It annoyed him that his mind would not let go of its continual countdown. It had been 39 hours since Finch had made his declaration about Evey wanting to see him again. Every time the thought crossed his mind, Stephen ached for her and he hated the distraction. He needed to be at his best and eight months without training, without discipline, meant he was far from peak.
Trainers in place, he jogged downstairs, vaulting over the railing about halfway down. He landed soundlessly, ridiculously pleased at that small victory, and made his way outside. He set off across the lawn, running lightly, just getting into the feel of his body again. Gallowsmere had about fifteen acres of good land and another five or so of trees and mire. Stephen settled down to a steady run, monitoring the time
39.5 hours
…it took for him to make a full circuit of the property. He turned the trees into obstacles, zagging between them at top speed, laughing aloud when he realized he was in better shape than he could have hoped. One tree slanted at a 45 degree angle, half fallen against its siblings and he raced up the slope of it, much as he had once raced up rooftops. He vaulted from the apex and landed running. The freedom to move gave his feet wings and he made excellent time.
Coming back to the yard, he caught up a pair of batons he'd set out and began the katas he knew. The batons were roughly the size of his old blades, a trifle heavier, and he closed his eyes as he practiced, remembering the long dark nights in the Shadow Gallery as he prepared for a move against Sutler's forces. He fought his imaginary enemies until the batons felt like lead bars in his hands.
42 hours.
Nothing stopped the clock. Stephen started the movements again, intent on reaching his old perfection. He was halfway through when someone coughed.
Startled, he whirled, one baton lifted overhead like a truncheon, his heart jerking hard in his chest as his adrenaline levels jumped into overdrive. He found himself facing Eric Finch, the man looking more than slightly alarmed. Stephen checked himself, forcing himself to lower the baton slowly.
"Mr. Finch," he heard himself say shakily. "What a surprise."
Eric Finch nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He had seen and recognized the savage grace in the man's movements and the ferocity in his face when he'd turned. It was amazing that Stephen's reflexes had pulled that blow and kept him from striking the officer. Eric suddenly knew what the six men who'd pursued this man had found at the end of the road. He caught his breath and nodded. "Sorry to drop in on you, Stephen."
"Is something wrong?" Stephen asked, frowning.
"You haven't called her. She got worried about you and…" He glanced behind him to where a slender figure stood beside the car. Stephen caught sight of her and his heart jumped again.
"Evey."
Finch looked back at him, catching the sudden softness on Stephen's face. The expression was completely unguarded, full of adoration. When he realized that Eric was looking at him, a shutter fell over his features. "I wasn't prepared for guests." He tucked his batons under his arm. 'I've not been to market for tea or luncheon goods."
Eric chuckled. "She's not looking for lunch, lad." He waited for Stephen to join him. "I have an errand in the next borough,' he said quietly as they walked back toward the car. "It would probably take me an hour or three."
Stephen missed a step. "What?"
Eric shrugged, ignoring the slip. "Up to you, of course, but I hardly think she made me come all the way out here just to go back again." He stared straight ahead. "Would you mind entertaining her?"
Stephen's footsteps lightened. Time with Evey… he hurried forward. She stood by the car, her face somber, her eyes faintly worried. Stephen drew closer and his steps slowed as he stared at her, drinking her in. She studied his face, taking in the sheen of perspiration on his skin and the light in his eyes. She smiled shyly.
"Hello, Stephen."
His mouth curved into a smile, the pleasure kindling in his expression. "Hello, my dear girl. I am surprised to have you visit me." His eyes seemed to burn into hers. "You are a welcome sight."
She lifted her chin. "Really?" She sounded doubtful. "I haven't seen you in days."
"And I have suffered for it," he swore, laying a hand over his heart. "This poor thing had ceased to beat until I saw you again." He sighed. "I have come back to life at the sight of your face." He leaned toward her, letting his lips brush hers lightly.
In response, she giggled and stepped back. "You are very sweaty, sir."
He clutched his chest as though wounded. "Easily corrected," he promised with a grin. "Will you be staying a while?"
She dimpled up at him. "Only if you shower," she teased. "And promise to kiss me properly."
Eric cleared his throat. "Evey, I have that appointment with the police magistrate and if I don't go, I'll be late. Are you staying here or coming with?"
Evey looked at Stephen for the answer. In his eyes, she saw promises that made her belly clench in anticipation. "Staying, Eric. Thanks." She pulled a rucksack from the car as Eric moved to the driver's door. Stephen caught the look on Eric's face, an acknowledgment of sorts, and nodded. Evey's care was his responsibility until Eric returned. He watched the policeman's car pull out of the drive then led Evey inside.
"I'll go freshen up, shall I?" he asked, ensconcing her in the kitchen. "Help yourself to whatever you like." He started to move toward the stairs but her slender fingers locked around his wrist. He turned back at once and she surged up against him, her mouth finding his. The kiss was sweet and insistent, flavored with a bit of desperation.
"Evey,' he whispered when she let him up for air. "I thought…"
"You said I should help myself to whatever I like.' She smiled cheekily. 'I like tall sweaty men, well, one tall sweaty man. I don't want to waste a minute of our time, Stephen." She reached up to fluff his damp hair. "I want you, all of you, right now. I want to forget the hours since I last slept with you.'
Stephen swallowed. All those months in the Shadow Gallery, all of the feelings he'd had about her, the dreams and frustrating fantasies flooded over him. He couldn't deny her now. He didn't have to deny her. He leaned down to kiss her again, closing his eyes at the piercing sweetness of her mouth. She tasted as he'd always thought she would, her lips as soft as silk under his.
"Evey," he whispered against her mouth. She did not reply, her small hand creeping under his shirt to caress his belly. His muscles fluttered at her touch, unbearable pleasure simmering in his blood. "Ah, Evey."
"You like that." She declared with fierce happiness. "I remembered from before." He closed his eyes, nodding.
"Yes, Evey. I like that." She ran a hand to his waistband and his knees buckled. "Ah," he sighed, head rocking back, eyes closed. "Upstairs," he whispered, begging her permission. "Please, Evey, on a bed, properly. Please, love."
She had mercy on him and walked with him up the stairs, pausing now and again to kiss him. He had the sweetest expression when she kissed him, a sort of rapture every time she hesitated, his eyes turning greener with every step. He brought her to the big bed in his room and turned down the duvet for her. Evey began unbuttoning her blouse. He came to help her, his long graceful fingers making short work of the buttons. He reverently removed the garment, bending to press his lips against her belly and then looking up at her worshipfully. She saw so many things race through his eyes, expressions she could barely register before they were replaced.
"It's alright," she told him softly. "I won't break."
He looked away. "You are so young," he whispered. "What are you doing with an old man like me?"
"Youth is overrated," she said lightly. "Experience is priceless."
She caught his face in her hands, kissing his lips over and over until he pulled away to fight himself free of his track suit. Naked before her, his body was better than she remembered. She noticed scars, most of them white with age but a few were still livid. His chest was deep, his belly flat, his hips framing the evidence of his need. She shivered, her body waking to his. She shed her slacks and panties and lay down on his bed.
Even before he joined her, she felt the unbearable intimacy of this union. She was in his home, in his bed, her bare skin on his sheets. Not the neutral ground of a rented room this time. Wide eyed, she looked at him and he smiled at her, love and adoration in his eyes.
"You should have music," he said thoughtfully. He switched on a small player that sat atop the bureau. The pretty sound of a piano filled the silence. Evey closed her eyes, remembering a baby grand played by hands that shouldn't have been able to play anything. She felt his weight settle beside her on the bed and she turned her face to him as the piano was joined by a masculine voice. The words spun through Evey as Stephen's hand gently spread across her belly, banishing the memory in favor of the reality.
I hear you breathe so far from me
I feel your touch so close and real
And I know
My church is not of silver and gold,
Its glory lies beyond judgment of souls
The commandments are of consolation and warmth
He lowered his head to her shoulder, his mouth so warm and gentle as he kissed his way along her collarbone. Evey gasped when he sank lower, his hot mouth closing over her nipple. He suckled at her, his hand slipping lower. She spread her legs as he found her core, arching under his touch. He cupped her, nothing more than a gentle palm against her aching sex, and Evey cried out in surprised pleasure.
You know our sacred dream won't fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
Stephen moved to her other breast, sliding his arm under her to lift her so easily to his mouth. Evey loved this strength, the careful power she felt in his muscles. She recalled watching him exercise, the lithe and forceful movements making her wet while she stood beside Eric and lusted after this man, this stranger with his secrets. She ran her hands over his body, feeling his muscles flutter in his taut belly as her fingertips searched out his secrets. She might not know him well, but there would not be a secret between their bodies when all is said and done. Evey hadn't ever minded secrets, or she would have gone mad long ago. She could feel the truth of this man in his touch on her skin, in his gasp of pleasure when she found a sensitive spot, in the words that he whispered to her, words of love that she knew were hers alone.
I hear you weep so far from me
I taste your tears like you're next to me
And I know
That my weak prayers are not enough to heal
All the ancient wounds so deep and so dear
The revelation is of hatred and fear
He rose over her, and she opened herself to him. He was gentle as he entered her body, giving her time to adjust to him. Once he was fully sheathed, he was still, his head thrown back, his body rigid with control. "Evey," he said, a world of adoration in the word. She reached for him, catching his hands, laced her fingers with his.
"Stephen." She sounded as desperate as he did. "Please."
He looked down at her and her breath caught in her throat at the intensity of his eyes. A faint smile sculpted his lips as he began the leisurely climb to pleasure. Evey couldn't look away from him, couldn't tear her eyes off of him. She felt him ebb and flow into her, his eyes showing her everything she could have dreamed of as he worshipped her body with his own.
You know our sacred dream won't fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
Evey locked her ankles around his hips, her body tightening as she spiraled toward the end of the dance. Stephen covered her as he drove into her deeper than before. She felt wrapped in his love, safe in his arms, and that security gave her the strength to fall into ecstasy. She screamed his name, clutching his broad shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. As she spasmed around him, he let out a shout of joy and shuddered, driving into her again and again. He wrapped her in his arms, rolling to lie beside her, his body shaking with aftershocks. She clung to him, breathless and astonished. The first time hadn't been nearly this good and Evey had thought it wonderful. She trembled against him.
You know our sacred dream won't fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
"Stephen," she whispered against his skin.
"Yes, Evey?"
There was a roughness to his voice that sent a shiver up her spine. "Stephen, thank you."
He chuckled under her ear, his heart beat strong and steady. "My dear girl, that was most definitely my pleasure." His arms tightened around her. "Thank you for giving me another chance."
She rubbed her face against his chest, taking in the warm musky scent of him. "I'm falling in love with you, I think."
He was silent for a moment. "Are you sure you want to?" Lightly asked, the question hung between them. "I am probably very shopworn and faded, compared to the young men you meet every day."
She lifted her head, trying to see his eyes. "Stephen, I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be. I like you, I have from the moment I met you. Your strength, your courage, your warmth keep bringing me back to you. I don't see you as old, I am surprised you do. You can't be that much older…"
"Nearly your age again," he interrupted. "And that bears thinking about. If you are serious about me, I won't deter you. I love you already. But I don't want you to wake one day and realize you could have had someone your own age. I don't want you to regret…"
She climbed higher on the bed, kissing him to shut him up. When she lifted her head, her eyes flashed with fire. 'Don't be so bloody noble, Stephen. You love me. I'm well on the way to being madly in love with you. You aren't allowed to ruin that with logic and propriety." She poked him in the chest. "Now, we've just had our first fight. Is it over? I'd like to get on with the making up if we are."
She found him smiling up at her with genuine affection. "I have to say the magic words, I think," he mused, his eyes gleaming.
"And they are?" she challenged.
His black hair was tousled into curls, his eyes as green as emeralds, as he looked up at her. He was beautiful to her, his mouth smirking at her impatience. "The magic words," he said slowly. "Every man knows them and knows how powerful they are. They can solve every issue between a man and a woman." Evey poked him again, fighting the urge to laugh. He blinked and then smiled brilliantly at her. "The magic words are: Yes, Dear."
She collapsed against him, laughing, his body vibrating with the deep joyful laugh she loved. She realized that she wasn't falling for him, she already had.