Author's Note: If you can't tell by the long delay in posting this, I wasn't happy with this chapter. I'm still iffy, but it wanted to be what it is, and I rarely argue with what a story wants to be. It would know itself better than I could pretend to. So, here's the short but (hopefully) sweet last 'official' chapter. There will be a short epilogue, as well. Enjoy?
WARNING: This probably would also be considered a 'Hard T' for its skirting the edge of adult content.
Oh. Heaven help her. That is, if she believed in an omniscient being and a holy host, would they even be able to intervene, to save her from something that is inarguably a divine act itself? One body, one soul, one flesh. There is something absolutely transcendent about such a joining. Pure ecstasy. Joy and Devastation. It feels as if her very soul, everything she is, has been parted from her, drawn away, by him, with him, his soul. Sort of metaphysical alchemy, her soul amalgamated with his. The question is whether it's returned to her fully? It doesn't feel incomplete per se, but rather transformed as something new and different. Not diminished, just changed, unable to deny any longer her lasting, irresistible bond to the man lying entwined with her, inside of her.
Callen. G Callen.
She finally seems to be regaining her senses, after the blinding moment of ecstasy that she's certain stopped her heart momentarily, every neuron in her brain firing simultaneously, every nerve ending in her flesh flaring. He took her on quite the journey, G did, the pace initially seeming almost torturously slow until she realized that taking a strong, steady ascent enabled them to achieve even higher summits. She's never been taken quite that high before. And Nell knows there's no one else in the world capable of making that journey with her. It's him. Only him.
His body is solid as he lays bonelessly atop her, the entirety of his weight pressing her into the mattress, and she loves it. Loves that he's staying so smotheringly close to her, his sticky, hot, musky skin pressed to her everywhere. And god, the intimacy of him remaining inside of her, rather than rolling off from her directly after they finished. It's like saying they're not finished. They'll never be finished. He's nuzzling her hair and neck, and she tenses her legs around him even as she can feel the quivering shudders deep inside of her, the pleasure lingering, slowly dissipating with sharp little jolts of her nerves, twitching various muscles in her body. And the urge to continue to touch him rises in her, to fully enjoy the most intimate moment of her life. She strokes her hands down the nape of his neck over the deliciously defined but not bulky muscles of his shoulders and back, along the ridge of his spine, and up again. Mmm... She loves his body, his beautifully built flesh, just solid and defined enough to reveal the strength of him. And that ass. He's so calm and peaceful as he cuddles against her, and she herself feels the heavy-limbed lethargy of being sated to her bones, and deeper, down to her soul, that she decides not to give his buttocks a hearty, startling squeeze at the moment. Rather, she opts to let the somnolent intimacy linger upon them.
He's kissing her neck lightly, tenderly, and it's oh-so-nice, like slipping into a warm bath after a long day, and she knows she's groaning with the satisfaction of it all. And then he's lifting his weight off from her slightly, causing her to instinctively clamp her thighs about his waist, but he thankfully doesn't leave her, instead pauses with his face a few inches above hers, and cups her cheek with one calloused hand, speaking her name softly.
She turns her face into the caress. She adores his hands, too. Maybe they're her favorite part of his physical self. No, his strong arms that hold her so tightly yet never uncomfortably. No, his chest, solid against her skin when she presses her cheek to him and hears his heart beating. No, his fantastic ass. No, that part of him still filling her tender flesh despite its spent state. No. No, it's his eyes. Definitely, his eyes, as those gorgeous blues stare down into her face, her own eyes, her soul.
"I know it's sort of a taboo to do it the first time directly after being intimate, but I have to," he says, and her lethargic brain snaps to attention at the interesting suggestion in his statement. What's so important for him to say at this very moment?
"I love you, Nell Jones."
Her heart bursts with happiness. She feels herself grinning stupidly, because who knew this is what it would really feel like, to love, to be loved, to fall in love?
"Well, that settles that," she says. "I've officially fallen in love with you, G Callen. Completely and unconditionally."
He kisses her, all warmth and surprising energy for a man who wasn't even capable of supporting his own weight not half a minute ago.
"Mmm... blissfully, too," she adds to her list of the ways she's fallen in love with the man. He places more, light, feathery kisses on the bare skin of her face, throat and chest, as she continues. "Irrevocably. Desperately. Eternally."
"Unfortunately," he offers, laughter in his voice and eyes. She slaps his bare bicep, which already shows red welts where her nails had dug into his skin, making him grunt in protest. "Hey, I meant it's unfortunate for you."
He strokes her cheek.
"You know you can do far better than me, Nell Jones."
She frowns, takes his face firmly in both of her hands, and locks eyes with him.
"No," she says. He can crack all of the jokes he wants, tease her, flirt relentlessly with her or anyone else he wants for that matter, but she will not tolerate his twisted brand of subtle self-hatred. If she could, she would go back in time and murder whoever had taught him to feel worthless, but his issues are more complicated than that, she knows. How can she battle an entire childhood, adolescence -hell- lifetime's worth of abandonment issues? "You're the best man I could ever hope to meet, let alone fall in love with... And I am never going to leave you."
He swallows hard and looks away, his blue eyes bright, almost wet with unshed tears, when he finally does meet her gaze once more. And she smiles, because even she can't handle being so serious and somber for too long, especially with the stupid sort of happiness flooding her entire being and the warm, sated body of the man lying on top of her, inside of her. The sensitive skin of her smooth calf traces the contours of his flank when she strokes her leg down over his bare buttocks and the tensed muscles defining the back of his thighs.
"And you're going to have a hell of a time getting rid of me, G. If you ever get it into that thick head of yours to try such a thing."
He returns her massive grin, even as she squeezes her legs about his waist and digs her fingers into his back, pulling him down with such force as to take him by surprise and he collapses atop her with a pleased chuckle.
"I wouldn't dream of it," he says, laughter still in his voice, his hot breath tickling her scalp. Then he seems to sober a bit. "In fact, I think you need to move into my house, permanently."
She swears her heart skips a beat, several, in fact. Or has she just forgotten how to breathe? Because as fantastically shocking and amazing and absolutely wonderful a confession of love from G Callen is, an invitation into his life, full-time, represents a level of commitment unnatural to the habitual loner.
"I mean, if you want to..."
"Oh! Oh, god, yes," she says, realizing that she's left him hanging as her brain momentarily froze like a hard drive with overloaded processors. "But are you sure? I mean..."
"Nell, the more time I spend with you, the more time I want to spend with you. It never seems enough. I could spend every day for the rest of my life with you and it would never be enough of you."
He kisses her, a tender and slow exploration of her mouth, all simmering warmth and affection. And she feels something stir inside of her.
"Mm... really?" she asks as he moves his talented, tantalizing lips to her throat. Not that she would call G Callen old, but he's not exactly what anyone would call a 'spring chicken' -and thank god, for her satisfaction's sake, he's possessing of such a virile wisdom that only comes with experience and age. For certain, he's seen her thoroughly sated, and she wasn't expecting the sort of ridiculous rapaciousness of peri-pubescent males, but is she really going to complain?
"You only have yourself to blame," he murmurs against the inside of her left breast, the stubble on his chin rasping against the sensitive skin of her sternum, as his body shifts interestingly against her to accommodate his affectionate caresses.
"What? How is this, my fault? Ooh… don't stop."
"I have no intention of stopping, ever, because you make me crazy, I love you so much."
"I love you, too, G." Nell moans lightly. "Oh, that's nice."
And it was, very nice.
A/N: It was a little nauseatingly mushy/cheesy/sappy writing this, but again, it's what it wanted to be: Nell and Callen ridiculously happy and in love.
A/N2: If you're wondering at the missing scene between this chapter and the last, it's 'M-Rated' content is posted under the title 'Joining'.