AN: Hallo! This is dedicated to everyone-Vast Difference in particular, whom I know has been waiting very eagerly for it. ;) Enjoy! There may be a little bitty epilogue or something after this, but, for all intents and purposes, the story is just about done. Hope you liked, and THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO REVIEWED OR ALERTED! I really hope you enjoy!
"Bernard, what do you like best about a woman?"
Gwendolyn Sharp smiled as she settled herself on my lap, taking the biography of Megamind from my hands and placing it on the table beside me.
It was a Sunday, my one day of rest, and she had come to "keep me company", she'd said; I found myself almost enjoying the prospect of it.
"Mmmmf…hair," I mumbled, rather dreamily, seeing as a good quantity of hers was very, very close to my face, and sending that lovely, creamy scent straight to my brain.
Gwendolyn's smile widened.
"Really? So you're not a breasts or legs type of person?"
Trying hard to recover my faculties, I flushed and said, as coolly as I could:
"I never thought about it."
"Sure you have," she said, and wriggled around so that she was looking up at me, arms slipping around my neck. "Everyone has."
"Everyone but me."
She raised an eyebrow, but, thankfully, didn't pursue the subject; I did not care to admit that I actually did have rather a preference…truth be told, I had found my musings lingering, every so often, on the curious, heedlessly graceful movement of her legs…
"You know, it's funny," she said, in one of her wild changes of subject. "I've never asked-how old are you?"
Wondering why on earth she'd want to know, I mumbled:
"Thirty. Why?"
"No particular reason. I'm 23, and I just wanted to see how much older you were. Seven years," contemplatively. "It's a nice age gap."
I said nothing, of course...but, deep down, I couldn't help but agree with her.
It was another 10 minutes before she spoke again-and when she did, it was...unexpected.
"Bernard," said Gwendolyn rather suddenly, appearing to jolt from deep thought, "you know what would be a lot of fun?"
"I can't imagine."
She smirked, that curious, wicked look in her eyes which did uncomfortable things to my respirations…
"Guess."
Immediately I felt my body warm alarmingly from the neck upwards, and my throat was abruptly very dry as I struggle to say something—anything…
Seeing my discomfort, she laughed and said, reassuringly:
"I'm just kidding, Bernard. I didn't mean we should—er—have a wild night right this moment."
Every single shred of reserve fled me; head spinning at the mere thought of said wild night, I mumbled, without thinking:
"Later tonight then?"
Her eyes widened, and for a moment she blanched, looking at me as if not quite sure she'd heard me correctly. I didn't blame her; I wasn't quite sure I'd heard me correctly either.
Then, slowly, the smile returned, and she shook her head, eyes dancing at the unmistakable disappointment that crept its way, unbidden, onto my face…
I wasn't sure what was wrong with me, but it seemed to be getting worse.
"No, not yet, Bernard," she said, though I could see the minx was enormously pleased. "Wait for it, eh? Anticipation and all that."
Nodding, I swallowed and looked anywhere but at her, trying to collect my roving thoughts…
She, meanwhile, was looking contemplative. Shaking herself at last, she said, lightly:
"Bernard?"
"What?"
Flashing a grin, she told me:
"I can't wait."
-88888—
One year later
I was reading on the bed when Gwendolyn, no longer Sharp, came in.
"Bernard?"
I didn't look up; the study of the failings of Woodrow Wilson was quite engrossing.
"Mm?"
She came quietly over to the side of the bed, and said quietly, bending so that her hair tickled my nose:
"I'm going to take a shower, alright?"
"Certainly."
"I won't be long," she said, and then, coming even closer, she whispered:
"Be ready."
And then she left—and suddenly it was exceedingly hard to concentrate on my book.
She came out damp from the shower, a towel wrapped around her and a little smirk on her face as she caught wind of my expression. I, for my part, was still lying on the bed as if nothing had happened, doing my best to read and comprehend—and failing utterly.
"Hallo, Bernard."
I swallowed, and my voice sounded horribly shaky…
"H-hello, Sharp."
"Not my name anymore," she said lightly, and sat on the side of the bed, very close to me. I flushed, and struggled to keep that traitorous little grin off of my face.
"Right."
Her hand rested lightly on my back, and she began to gently stroke it, while even the simple gesture made me stiffen, and grip the poor book with white knuckles...
"Relax, Bernard," she said softly, sounding somewhat nervous herself. I looked up at her, clad in only a towel…how on earth did she expect me to relax?
"I-I'm fine," I murmured, lying through my teeth.
"I know," she told me, and stretched herself out on the bed so that her face was very near mine, and the towel was considerably looser…
"Whacha reading about?" she said easily, as if we were only back at the museum. I laid the book down, rather glad to be rid of it, and replied, as coolly and calmly as I could:
"President Woodrow Wilson."
"Oh." Her nose wrinkled. "I don't like him."
For some reason, this made me want to smile; trust Sharp to have an opinion on every executive.
"I don't either."
And, taking a deep breath, I did what I'd been wanting to do the whole time, and kissed her mouth, one hand going to the back of her head to steady us.
Sharp responded eagerly, and immediately both of her hands were in my hair, pulling me closer to her. Within a few moments she was lying on the bed, and I was on top of her, hands wandering freely to all the places I'd touched in my dreams…
The towel, being a nuisance, was removed, and soon her hands had slipped beneath my turtleneck, running up my back and then dipping around to caress my abdomen…
The fire which had been swiftly consuming me grew hotter, and I found a little noise escaping me, while Gwendolyn, just for a moment, pulled back.
She smiled at me—and, delirious and insanely aroused, I smiled back, blinking at her through my lopsided glasses and suddenly realizing, to the fullest degree, that Gwendolyn wasn't wearing—well—anything…
"Good God."
She blushed, and then grinned.
"Why, thank you, Bernard."
And, without another word, she slid my shirt off, and tossed it carelessly away, eyes going over me with—I squirmed—appreciation…
"God, Bernard," she said simply, and the next thing I knew she was pulling at my belt, yanking it through the loops and tossing it into the vastly insignificant regions of the room which did not constitute the bed.
I began to seriously consider the dangers of spontaneous combustion.
"Gwen," I breathed, for no reason at all other than that her fingers were doing strange and wonderful things to my entire body…
She pulled back again, and beamed, while I, dizzy and out of my mind, just marveled…
"Knew you'd get it eventually."
Once we were both fully denuded, she took off my glasses.
"I don't think you'll be needing these," she whispered, as accordingly they disappeared and I squinted at her, heart slamming against my chest.
"I-I shouldn't think so."
She laughed breathlessly, and brought my face down to kiss me again; my brain shut down entirely, and for several minutes I was conscious of only unthinking pleasure.
"I love you," the minx said, against my lips. I couldn't have replied if I'd tried; my mouth was entirely too preoccupied for such things as words.
"Mmm."
Interpreting this correctly, I felt her smile, and, instinctively, groped about for the lamp.
"No," she murmured, not bothering to pull away. "Leave—leave the light on."
I obliged, not at all inclined to disagree with the prospect of seeing her (albeit blurrily) sans clothes for the remainder of the night…
And then things started to happen, and my mind shut down for the rest of the evening.
-8888—
Afterward, we both lay there, and Gwendolyn was, for once, without words; I didn't blame her. There wasn't really anything to say. Lying her head against my heart, she murmured, at last:
"H-hey, there."
Still grinning like an idiot, I responded:
"Hello, Gwendolyn."
Curling herself close, she wrapped her arms around me and sighed; her hair, wild and loose, fell lightly onto my face, inundating me once more with that scent….
"Mmm…did you enjoy yourself?" she said lightly, looking up at me with a knowing smile on her face; I had, over the course of the night, made the answer to that abundantly clear.
"It was alright," I said, still grinning stupidly at the ceiling. The little thing—my little thing, now—rolled her eyes, and kissed me beneath the jaw.
"Well, we have lots of time to practice."
My grin widened at the thought of all the…practice I would be getting with her…
Suddenly, she made as if to get up, and, instinctively, my arms tightened, not wanting to let her go…
"I'm just going to get some water," she assured me, but I heard the smile in her voice. "I'll be back soon, dearest."
"Don't call me that," I mumbled, even as, inside, I hoped she hurried; the sensation of being so…close to her was so new, and so pleasurable, it seemed unfair that it should end so soon…
But she came back within a moment, just as she'd promised, and was soon pressed close to me, arms round my shoulders and head once more on my chest.
"Goodnight, Bernard," she murmured, sounding drowsy now. I stared at her for a moment, looking her over, and then, without thinking, or second-guessing, I leant in and kissed her quickly on the temple.
"Goodnight, Gwendolyn."
And, as she dropped off and curled closer to me, I said, quietly:
"I love you."
-8888—
We were wakened by a knock on the hotel door.
"Excuse me?"
Beside me, Gwendolyn stirred, eyes slowly opening as she took in her surroundings. Still considerably addled by the happenings of last night, I only sighed and called:
"What?"
The door opened—and in walked Elmer, baseball cap firmly intact and hands in his ratty overall pockets. He did rather a double take when he saw me, lying there with her under the blankets, and I with difficulty kept back a smirk.
"I didn't know you cleaned hotels, Elmer."
Nodding deferentially, he stammered:
"Y-yes, Mr. Bernard, sir. Anything to keep food on the table, sir." And then, evidently deciding it would be rude to utterly ignore Gwendolyn's presence, he nodded again and murmured:
"Hello, Miss Gwendolyn, miss."
She grinned, and waved at him, making sure to keep the bedclothes high enough so as to preserve a semblance of modesty.
"Hallo, Elmer. Good to see you again."
"Likewise, Miss Gwendolyn, miss. I-I'll just go then, Mr. Bernard, sir. I'll come back later, sir."
Nodding, I watched as he turned and scurried out—just as he reached the door, however, he turned and said, hesitantly:
"Mr. Bernard, sir?"
"What?"
With a slight, significant little smile, he said:
"I'm glad you took my advice, sir."
And, with another little nod, he left—and, as the door closed behind him, so was I.