Warning: Chapter contains material of a graphic sexual nature.
The lock gave easily – he was torn between relief that there would be no struggle to gain entry to Penelo's home and the desire to chastise her for not ensuring that her home was better protected. He slipped inside, letting his eyes adjust to the greater darkness in the interior of the apartment. No sounds came from within – hopefully the apartment's two occupants slept soundly and would not awaken at any noise he might make.
Even to his unaccustomed eye, it was obvious a child was in residence – a couple of toys sat out, forgotten, on the floor. A small china tea service rested upon a table, with a few dolls gathered around it, enjoying with solemnity their midnight tea party. A few sloppily created drawings and paintings graced their refrigerator. He could imagine them being hung with great pomp and ceremony. Certainly Penelo would treat her daughter far differently than his parents had treated him…but then, she had always been a warm, affectionate sort of person. She was nothing at all like his own cold, heartless mother and cruel, uncaring father.
He headed down the hall, narrowly avoiding treading upon some discarded toys left there. He reached for the doorknob of the first door he came upon, twisting it softly, relieved to find it made no sound at it turned. He pushed the door open – the well-oiled hinges made no betraying noise heralding his entry.
There was a large bed in one corner of the room, and in it lay Penelo, curled on her side, one fist tucked beneath her chin and the other thrust beneath her pillow. Her bright hair lay in charming disarray over the pillows, and one leg was resting bare, unconcealed by the covers as though she had grown too warm beneath them and kicked them off. Her nightgown was twisted about her hips, revealing a pair of pink cotton panties that were arousing despite being designed for practicality rather than to be sensually appealing.
He wondered what he ought to do, how he ought to wake her – he certainly didn't want to frighten her. He decided on discarding his vest, shirt, and boots, then settled on the bed beside her. She stirred just a little as his weight caused the mattress to dip. Turning onto his side, he swept her hair away from her face, nudging her shoulder a bit, encouraging her to roll onto her back. She sighed a little as she did so, turning her face to the side and resting her hands across her stomach. Carefully he moved them, setting to work on the small buttons down the front of her gown.
Swatting at his hands as if they were bothersome insects, she turned back onto her side – and the nightgown slipped off her shoulders, exposing the smooth swells of her breasts to the soft moon glow that filtered through the window.
He paused, drinking in the sight of her posed there, so innocently seductive. It had been so long since she had last been in his bed – he'd once resolved never to see her again, and yet just now, when her image filled his head, pushing out all other wearying thoughts and worries, he couldn't for the life of him remember why. Then, slowly, he bent to kiss the exposed column of her throat.
He could feel the soft beat of her pulse beneath his lips. Gently he slid one arm beneath her pillows, lowering himself beside her in a more comfortable position, easing a trail of soft kisses up the smooth skin of her throat. She made a soft, sleepy sound and her hands came up to grasp his shoulders as she tipped back her head to give him better access. She wasn't quite awake – rather, she clung to the remnants of her dream world and remained warm, soft and pliable. But he wanted her awake and alert, even if it meant a return to her usual frustrating, impertinent self. He shifted her onto her back once again, and stroked his fingers along the peak of one soft, full breast. It hardened immediately, drawing into a tight, perfect little bud.
Her eyelids fluttered, lashes slowly lifting to reveal sleepy blue-grey eyes. She stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment as if she could not quite understand who he was or why he was in her bedchamber. Then she gasped, jackknifing up in bed.
"What are you doing here?" she cried. He eased her back down against the pillows, shushing her when she would have made some other exclamation.
"You will wake the child," he cautioned softly.
The breath left her lungs on a soft whoosh. "You…you know about her?" she asked breathlessly.
He shrugged. "I saw the three of you through the window."
"The three…oh. Basch," she murmured.
"I must admit," he said, somewhat regretfully, "I never imagined that you would find Basch appealing enough to have an intimate relationship with. He seems a bit too stolid for you. Does he come often to visit with your daughter?"
"O-occasionally," she said. "When he can get away."
His jaw tautened – for some reason, he did not like the idea of Basch being around Penelo, even if only 'occasionally'.
"When he does visit," he began, shifting a little so that he was braced half over her, "do you invite him into your bed?"
"What? No!" She gasped, affronted. "We don't have that kind of relationship. A-anymore," she clarified hastily.
"So he comes to see his daughter, but not to warm your bed," he said thoughtfully. "Well, it is no matter to me, provided I find no one else in your bed when I come to you." He slipped his arms beneath her, arching her back just a little as he brushed his lips over her collarbone.
He was jealous, she realized – jealous of her 'relationship' with Basch!
"You're…not angry?"
"What right have I to judge you? Your child is none of my affair," he said.
She almost laughed – none of his affair, indeed! But she resisted the impulse – he'd invented a convenient explanation as to how she'd come to have a daughter, and she would not jeopardize it.
She shuddered as his lips brushed one peaked nipple, stifling a gasp at the sensation.
"Ah, Penelo," he sighed. "How is that even after bearing Basch a child, you still taste so innocent?" He caught her nipple between his lips, flicking his tongue over the taut peak.
She assumed the question was rhetorical and offered no answer. Rather, she threaded her fingers through his hair, giving herself up to the sensations he evoked. She hadn't been in a man's bed since Balthier had taken her virginity and given her a daughter five years before – hadn't even wanted this from anyone else. Sometimes she was quite afraid that she would end up old and alone, because if she couldn't have Balthier she didn't want anyone.
He eased her unbuttoned nightgown over her head, tossing it aside. His hands traced her body, finding subtle differences made by the passage of time – fuller breasts, gently rounded hips, longer legs. Even as a young woman, he'd found her lovely…but now, as a woman fully grown, he found her beautiful. Of course she would have had other lovers – how could she not? She was young and beautiful and full of life and energy. What hot-blooded man would turn up his nose at such a delectable offering?
She lifted her arms, twining them about his neck to drag him down for a kiss. Their lips met and clung, her breasts were crushed against his chest. He nipped her lower lip, sliding his tongue between her lips when she gasped. One of his hands cupped her hip, drawing her against him, and she could feel the rigid length of him through the heavy leather of his trousers.
She was making a mistake, and she knew it. It was exactly what Larsa had warned her about – if she slept with him now, he would just leave her again. Maybe he would come back, but it would never be to stay. He was not the sort to settle down. But she didn't care – she'd long ago decided that if this was all she'd ever have of Balthier, it would be enough. She would make it be enough.
She fumbled with the buttons of his trousers, hastily shoving them down his hips, then grasping him firmly in her small hand. He gasped, his breath coming hard and heavy near her ear. His hand closed around hers, moving her fingers up and down the hard length of him.
"I can't…I can't be gentle with you, this time," he bit out, his breath hissing from between his teeth. His free hand was fisted in the covers beside her head, and sweat was beading on his forehead. Strain was evident in every hard line of his body as he struggled to check his raging desires.
He cursed his wretched choice in trousers as he fought his way out of them. They flew out of sight, onto the floor at the foot of the bed. Then he turned, settling between her parted thighs. Her arms welcomed him there, her legs locked around his hips.
"It's okay," she murmured warmly, arching up to lay a tender kiss upon his jaw. "It's okay, Balthier." She didn't need special treatment or gentleness or whatever – she just needed him.
"I'm sorry," he said, already pushing inside her. Her inner muscles yielded slowly – she hadn't realized that her lack of sexual activity would make it so difficult to accommodate him. She shifted, struggling to relax beneath him even as he fought to forge a way within her.
"Damn, but you're still so tight inside," he murmured. "You've got to relax a bit, darling."
"I'm trying," she assured him, wincing as long-unused muscles protested the activity. "It's just…I haven't done this in a while."
He supposed that if she were out of practice, it could make it a little difficult for her to accommodate him. "How long has it been?"
She hesitated, discomfort making her dig her nails into his shoulders. "Not since…not since before Ellie was born."
He froze, still some inches from completing his entry. "Not at all?"
"No." Irritated with his lack of progress, she snapped, "You try pushing something the size of a watermelon out a hole the size of a lemon and tell me if you'd be eager to jump right back into the activity that got you in that condition in the first place." She shifted, raising her hips to take him deeper.
He chuckled at her heated statement, then slipped one hand beneath her hips, bringing her up to meet his thrust. His other hand he slipped down to where their bodies were joined, stroking her until he felt her body slowly begin to accept him. Carefully he retreated an inch or so, then forged farther ahead, repeating the slow process until finally their hips touched. She made a soft sound of relief, and he kissed her forehead.
"I might be a little rough with you, now," he said. "I promise I'll make up for it later." He drew out of her slowly, then sank back within her. Penelo gasped, the sensation of fullness was so extreme. Her head fell back, absorbing the feeling of him driving into her. He kissed his way up her throat, then took her ear lobe into his mouth, nipping it tenderly. His hands cupped her breasts, thumbs stroking over the taut peaks almost apologetically.
Each hard thrust forced a tiny gasp from her throat – she closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around him, and rode out his storm. Every quick downward plunge brushed the most sensitive part of her, bringing her closer and closer to her own climax. His hot breath near her ear made her shiver, and it took a moment to realize that he was actually speaking to her.
"Penelo." A soft kiss, on the delicate skin just behind her ear. "Say it." He cupped her hips, redoubling his efforts to reach satisfaction. "Say it," he insisted.
She knew what he was asking. Somehow, she knew. Though she couldn't imagine why he would want to hear it. She tightened her grip on him as his thrusts forced her into the throes of climax, clamping her legs tightly around him and digging her nails into his shoulders. She turned her face towards him, just a little, and, when she had regained her breath enough to speak, she whispered, "I love you."
He made a sound in his throat, something like satisfaction. "Again," he demanded hoarsely.
"I love you, Balthier," she whimpered. Her inner muscles still contracted around him, trying to force him into climax.
"Yes," he said, spending himself within her at last, chest heaving. "Yes." Perhaps she'd given Basch a child, but it was to Balthier that she'd given her love. It was a part of her that no one else would ever have, a part he could jealously hoard forever.
He pressed a kiss to her temple, drawing a sheet up over them as the night air cooled the sweat on their bodies. He drew her into the circle of his arms, pressing her head against his chest. Neither spoke of what had passed between them – Balthier because he was secure in the knowledge that even five years' desertion had not killed Penelo's love for him and Penelo because she was ashamed of what she had admitted to him.
--
Several hours later, Penelo woke from a light slumber. Balthier had not yet taken his leave, and the dawn light was just creeping through the window, but she knew that Ellie would be awake soon, and she did not want Balthier getting a good look at her – or even for Ellie to be exposed to Balthier.
She turned, nudging him until he stirred beside her.
"No more, woman," he groaned. "Can't you see that you've exhausted me? Give me a few hours' rest, first."
"You've got to go," she whispered. "Ellie will be awake soon. She'll come in to wake me up."
He waved his hand dismissively. "So lock the door."
She pinched him, irritated. "I'm not locking my daughter out of my room so that you can get a little more sleep. You had plenty of time to sleep and you wasted it on…other things. Go sleep on the Strahl, I'm sure you've got it hidden close by."
He opened one eye, frowning. "You seriously intend to throw me out simply so your daughter does not find us in bed together?"
"Yes!" She crossed her arms across her chest. "If you had a…" she faltered briefly, then forged on firmly, "If you had a child, you would understand."
He rolled out of bed, donning his trousers and thrusting his arms through the sleeves of his white shirt. He jerked on his boots and grabbed up the rest of his belongings in one hand. "If you hadn't had a child, this wouldn't be an issue!" He said.
"What?" Penelo gasped. She scrambled out of bed, hastily throwing on her nightgown, holding the unbuttoned top together with one hand. "What did you say?"
He opened the door angrily – it slammed against the wall. "You heard me. If you hadn't jumped immediately into bed with Basch, there would be no child to be concerned with!"
Behind him, a door opened and a small face peeked out, watching the drama unfold with wide eyes. "Mama?"
"Go back to bed, Ellie. I'll be there in a minute," Penelo said quickly, and Ellie obeyed, closing her door. Penelo pinned Balthier with a glare. "See what you've done!" She hissed. "Get out! Now!"
"With pleasure," he sneered, stalking towards the front door.
"And don't even think about coming back! If I never see you again, it will be too soon!" She snapped, trembling with pent-up rage.
"I didn't want to come in the first place!" He shouted. "I came only to return your handkerchief, at your invitation!" He fished the offending object from his pocket, thrusting it at her. "Take it, and I can be on my way at once – I wouldn't set foot in this godforsaken city of my own accord, of that you may be sure!"
He slammed the door behind him. Penelo slipped to the floor, swiping at her eyes, trying to stop the flow of helpless tears. "Bastard," she muttered.
--
It had been several hours since that unpleasant altercation, and Balthier could not imagine why he had not yet left Rabanastre. He didn't even like the city, and yet he'd spent the last few hours browsing the busy marketplace.
Perhaps, he mused, he'd been a little harsh earlier. Obviously a mother would easily become defensive when her child was the issue of the hour. And really, there was no call for him to be quite so irritated that Penelo would not want her daughter to see him. He'd expected as much.
It was reasonable for him to be jealous of Basch – for a time, the man had displaced him in Penelo's affections. Even if she'd never really given him her love, she'd given him her body – and to Balthier, that amounted to much the same thing. It was unreasonable for him to be jealous of Penelo's child. The girl had a right to Penelo's love and undivided attention, and unless Balthier intended to become Penelo's husband – which he did not – he had only so much right to her love and attention as she chose to give him, and no right at all to be irritated that her child received more.
If he wanted anything of Penelo at all – and he did; at least, he wanted her nights – then he was going to have to learn how to share her with her daughter. An unfortunate turn of events, as Balthier was quite unused to sharing anything.
And what was worse, it seemed that if he wished to be welcomed back into her bed, he would actually have to apologize – something he was perhaps even worse at than sharing.
Why he was actually considering investing so much time into Penelo when there were many other beautiful, willing, childless women in Ivalice was beyond him – though he suspected it had something to do with the unfamiliar feeling that welled within his chest whenever she said she loved him. About her he knew two things were absolutely true – she did genuinely love him, and she had no desire to tie him down. She would not make demands of him because she knew it was not in his nature to give in to them. Perhaps it was because she understood him so well that he was willing to make his apologies and bend to her wishes.
"I don't like you."
The soft statement jerked him from his pensive reverie. "Hmm?" He looked down – there, beside him was a little girl, her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, glaring up at him.
"You were mean to my mama. You shouted at her," the child said.
"I most certainly did not," he retorted, wondering what had possessed the chit to address him and where in the world its mother had gone off to. He did not recognize the child as Penelo's daughter – having only seen her once, briefly.
"You did, too. You made her cry!" This was accompanied by a fierce frown and a fiery glare from those sharp green eyes. She tilted her stubborn little chin up at him, planting her small hands on her hips.
"I don't make women cry," he responded. "Now, run along and find your mother. I don't like children."
"I don't like mean, ugly old men!" she shot back.
"Ugly! Old! Why, you little…"
"Ellie!" Basch burst through the crowd. "You know better than to run off like that. You've worried your mother terribly! She brought someone to see you, and then she found that you'd run off...well, we'd best get you back to her." His gaze darted to Balthier speculatively. "You should not be here," he said. "Come, Ellie. We'll go find your mother."
"You should keep track of your daughter better," Balthier responded, unable to resist one last chance to poke at Basch. "Rabanastre isn't the safest of cities."
Though Basch said nothing, Ellie piped up immediately. "Sir Gabranth isn't my papa," she said.
"He's not?" The information startled Balthier – why had Penelo let him think Basch was Ellie's father, were it not the truth? What motivation had she to lie to him?
"No," she said. "I don't have a papa."
"Everyone has a father," he responded.
"I don't," she said, looking at him as though he were quite stupid.
Before he could ask Basch if he knew anything about Ellie's mysterious father, another voice rang through the crowd.
"Ellie! Ellie, come here!" Penelo called from a few yards away. At once Ellie dropped Basch's hand, running towards her mother.
"You scared me," Penelo chastised, "you know you're not to be running off whenever you feel like it!"
"I'm sorry, Mama," Ellie said. "It's just that I saw that mean man and I wanted…" she trailed off with a gasp of delight. "Uncle Larsa!" Ellie wriggled away from Penelo's grasp to run over to Larsa, who scooped her into his arms for a hug.
"Uncle Larsa?" Balthier questioned, disgusted by both the name and the display. Basch ignored him, turning his back on Balthier to go and greet his lord.
"You came to visit me!" Ellie said, linking her arms around his neck. "You came! I'm so happy!"
"Of course I came," he said, tapping her nose. Larsa's smile faded as he turned slightly and noticed Balthier watching the events unfolding from a few yards away. Penelo caught his gaze, following it. The color drained from her face – she couldn't decide what was more upsetting – the fact that he'd probably gotten a good look at Ellie, or the likelihood that he'd want to resume the morning's altercation in front of Larsa and Ellie.
Slowly he crossed the distance between them. Ellie watched silently, frowning at him.
"Basch isn't her father," he said. "Why did you lie?"
"I didn't lie," she defended immediately. "You assumed Basch was her father and I just…saw no real need to correct you."
"If it's not Basch, who is it?" He didn't understand his desire to know who had fathered Penelo's child, but the curiosity was overwhelming.
"I don't have a papa," Ellie insisted mutinously, glaring from the safety of Larsa's arms. "I told you already!"
For the first time, he registered the fact that her eyes were a brilliant green – the same green of…of…he didn't dare finish the thought. Hoping for a denial, his gaze flickered between Penelo, who looked exceedingly guilty and Larsa, who wore an expression of smug satisfaction.
Dear god, that was why Larsa had been so certain that Penelo would want nothing to do with him – she hadn't wanted him to discover the existence of his child!
The same child that glowered at him hatefully, while her arms were twined around Larsa's neck.
He felt the overwhelming urge to strike the younger man for looking so smug and self-satisfied, secure in the knowledge that Balthier's daughter hated her own father.
"Damn." It was the only thing he could think of to say – he couldn't very well launch into a tirade in the center of the marketplace, and he didn't want to alarm the child.
"She's mine," Penelo said fiercely. "I carried her, I raised her, you…you were nothing more than a sperm donor. You don't even like children!"
It was true enough – Balthier had no particular love of children. They were loud and dirty and obnoxious. He didn't even think he'd make a very good father. His father had been a wretched example of a parent, and Balthier was in no great rush to repeat the process which had been so detestable to his own father.
"You ought to have told me," he said. His face shuttered into the cool, composed mask he was so used to wearing. It was so easy to pretend he wasn't bothered by the thought of suddenly being a father when he was acting the part of the sky pirate.
Angrily, she gestured wildly. "How? I saw nothing of you for five entire years! Would you really have made it that simple to track you down?" She bit back an angry, frustrated sob. "Besides, it doesn't matter. You'll never have to play father. I'm…I'm going to marry Larsa."
