A/N:
First off - FROZEN FEVER TRAILER RELEASED.
Yo, I'm back...sort of. The depression thing is kinda peaks and troughs, and I'm seeing someone tomorrow about it - so thanks for the kind words from everyone about it (especially you, Trapid) but it'll be something I'll just have to go through every now and then.
Here's a heads up: I'm waving the "Mature" flag here, because here be dragons...I mean smut. Seriously. They're more adventurous, if you catch my drift (no need for a spoiler alert, because c'mon, it's a Jelsa fic with smut.). Secondly, this is the biggest chapter of the lot...sorry about that. Thirdly, the narrative writing style switches to Ex-Valentine's Day style with the smut, because I feel it lends itself better for reading. Maybe that's just me. Who knows. You're all perverts.
Thirdly, reminding y'all that this is M-rated, so if you're reading this and you're not supposed to be, then...what're you doing on the M-rated section?
Stefalove: Here you go, don't go screaming on me!
hydro: I haven't seen Bh6 yet, so I'll pretend I didn't see part of that *narrows eyes*
Vanilla: Hah! Got you.
Jelli Kelli: Here you go. Here be smut.
Trapid: What's Fifty Shades of Grey? Is that some paint colour chart for fences? Hah, I've never read the books nor seen the movie, and from what I hear they're both awful. Rumour has it that 50SOG is basically a renamed and re-charactered Twilight fanfic, dunno if you know that. There's a few things I don't like about that movie/book, but they're too long to list in an AN.
Iveris: Hai! And thanks. Looking forward to your next chapter, too.
So, on with the show, and there will be a sneak peek at Of Ghosts and Valkyries at the bottom. Again, HERE BE SMUT...toward the end.
37. The Madness of 'King' Pritchard
Pritchard didn't know how long he had been staring at the body on the floor of his bedroom, nor was he sure what had happened.
The last thing he remembered was Doctor Henrik advising him to seek help, to gain proof that he wasn't slowly losing his mind and to that end, he had retreated to the bedroom in order to gather some clothes in case it was an overnight thing. When he had entered his en-suite bathroom to collect his toiletries he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and then everything went black.
The next thing he knew, he was breathing heavily and feeling the searing heat of rage inside his chest, and was standing over the corpse of the man who had been his doctor, whose neck was twisted practically a hundred and eighty degrees. He didn't remember a thing.
He ran a hand down his face in an effort to grasp what was left of the out-of-control situation, and felt the unfamiliar nerves of panic shooting through his mind. He paced around the room, trying to work out what had happened and what would happen.
"Well, that escalated quickly."
The dry, feminine voice startled him and he whirled around, and with an uncomprehending widening of the eyes, he saw a woman kneeling over the body, her head cocked at an angle as though she was studying it, like the presence of a corpse was a curiosity rather than a source of concern. She wore a black corset which pressed her breasts into two perfect semicircles, black briefs with a matching garter belt above them, and near-black tights clipped to the belt. It wasn't until he recognised the signature braid trailing down her right shoulder, platinum blonde with streaks of black that he knew who it was.
"E-Elsa?"
Her head craned up to gaze at his surprised face, and she wore an expression of morbid amusement. Her lips were dark purple, her eyeliner a heavy black and her eyelashes flicking at the ends. This was not the Elsa Snowfield he remembered.
"I'm whoever you want me to be, honey." she crooned, biting her lip with a sultry expression. She rose to her feet and seductively walked towards him, one foot in front of the other making her hips sway from side to side.
"W-What…" he stammered, not understanding the situation. 'Elsa' giggled mirthlessly, tracing a solitary finger down his chest as she sashayed to his rear, that finger turning into an almost possessive feathering of her hand as it spread across his chest.
"See, I'm not really here. I'm your…ah…companion. I'm your guiding star, handsome."
Pritchard stiffened as the hand slid down over his stomach, and he could feel the tingles in his neck as her lips hovered an inch above the skin.
"What…what happened here?"
'Elsa' let out a coy giggle, and she cast a sidelong glance at the immobile body on the floor as her other hand slid up his chest and rested upon his right shoulder.
"That was you. He saw your secret, your…desire…for me, and he had to die. I must admit, I was quite impressed with how swiftly you handled him."
"I…I killed him?"
"Oh yes, Pitch. You put your hands on his head and you...ah…showed him a new point of view."
"Pitch…who is Pitch?"
'Elsa' sniggered and whispered into his ear, her breath like a cold breeze on his ears. So very cold.
"You are, silly! Well, technically I am. Both of us, really. I was the one that protected you when you were a child, when that monster would beat you senseless. Whenever you wanted to hide, I was there for you. When something needed to be done, that was me guiding you. I've been with you for a long time."
Pritchard felt the hands move once more, and the intoxicatingly beautiful 'Elsa' teasingly walked in front of him, and traced a solitary finger along his hawkish jaw.
"We are Pitch."
Pritchard shook his head in disbelief, his eyes wide as he tried to make sense of what was happening. His doctor on the floor, the object of his obsession scantily clad and stood before him, implying that she wasn't just 'Elsa' but someone called Pitch.
"Marvellous. I'm going insane." he hissed with no small amount of sarcasm as he wiped a hand down his face, and slapped his own cheek a few times in attempt to 'wake up'. He was about to administer his fourth when a hand gripped his wrist, and try as he might he could not move it. Following the black-varnished nails down the naked, milky arm all the way to 'Elsa's' icy blue eyes, she stared at him with a mixture of pity and desire.
"Sanity is just a matter of perspective, darling. You're just starting to see the world for what it really is."
"And what is that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Whatever you want it to be."
Pritchard tore his gaze from the woman and rested them once more upon the body, his mind ticking and working. Could it be true? He had heard it was possible, and his therapist had once mentioned the possibility of him developing a dissociative personality disorder during his ill-conceived sessions. Back then, Pritchard had scoffed at the idea, fiercely maintaining that he was fully in control of his faculties and that anything to the contrary was lies and deceit.
Now, he wasn't so sure. Ever since the catastrophe at Southernisle and his cutting off from the Black family, he had felt like things just weren't right, that sensation someone gets when they come home and their furniture has been moved six inches to the left. Everything looks the same, but they have the feeling that it's all wrong, that their entire world has shifted somehow, and they were left behind. That was what Pritchard was feeling, the sensation that reality had progressed beyond his control and there was nothing he could do about it.
'Elsa's' voice snapped him from the maelstrom of thoughts battling in his mind, and for a brief moment it centred him, brought an ephemeral calm.
"I would suggest that we...should be somewhere else. The last thing we need right now is for someone to catch us with a dead body on our bedroom floor."
Pritchard glanced once more at the late doctor and slowly nodded. Whatever she was – hallucination, alternate personality – she made sense…and that was exactly what he needed right now. Everything was going to hell, spiralling out of control, and he needed to be far away from it as possible.
"Besides," she added, "if you are caught, it would put a severe crimp in your plan, no?"
He pulled himself away from her grasp and shot her a questioning stare.
"And what plan is that?"
'Elsa' smiled a predatory curl of the lips. Reaching a hand to his face, she traced a finger from his temple down to his chin, and as she pressed her body against his, whispered into his ear.
"Let's face it; I'm just an illusion at this point. Don't you want the real thing?"
Elsa's eyes had not left the nervous board member since she had arrived. She knew that there would be an air of uncertainty in the room, a feeling of anxious anticipation for everyone concerned as they prepared to walk through a door into a brave new world.
Jack had decided to distract himself by chatting with Merida, Phil and Hiccup about something Elsa couldn't quite make out, though it was obviously amusing as even the burly co-CEO chuckled repeatedly. Hiccup led the conversation with his characteristic gestures which occasionally forced Merida and Jack, who were standing to his left and right respectively, to lean back every so often to avoid being smacked in the face.
Yet, Jeanette seemed to be lost in concerned thought. She stared at a fixed point on the glass meeting room table as she tapped her phone against the transparent surface, barely responding to any questions sent her way.
Unable to quell her curiosity any longer, Elsa caught Jack's eye and gestured with a sidelong glance at the silent board member. He nodded once, made an excuse to part from the conversation and quietly left the room just as she moved behind Jeanette and, making the woman jump out of her skin, asked her a question.
"Jeanette, please could I have a word with you in private?"
The startled woman visibly stiffened as she glanced at the CEO a few times, and with an almost relieved nod she rose from the chair and followed Elsa through the meeting room door. Jack was waiting for them, his back leaning against the corridor wall directly opposite and his arms folded across his chest. Elsa gestured to the door by his side, and darting over he held it open for them to enter the empty room.
Elsa had already fired off her question before he had even closed the door behind them.
"Is everything okay, Jeanette?"
The woman's breath hitched a little under Elsa's studious gaze, and her entire posture seemed to slump from tense and wound-up. Jack quietly took position right beside his co-CEO-to-be, and his arms instinctively returned to their previous position.
"The reason I was late was because…it was because two men came to visit me at my home."
Jack stiffened visibly and his eyes took on a slightly darker look. He spoke in a low, almost dangerous rumble which caused even Elsa to cast him a sidelong glance.
"What did they want?"
"I was next to sell my stock on Wednesday, Mr Overland. They came to ensure that it would still be the case. Naturally, given what we are attempting to accomplish, I lied and said I would still be adhering to their demands but…"
"But what?" Elsa prompted, and Jeanette shot her a look of pure worry.
"I am a poor liar, Miss Snowfield. They saw through my deception almost immediately, and asked what was really going on. I refused to tell them, and attempted to leave my home but they wouldn't let me. One of them produced a photograph of me having an affair, and told me that if I didn't tell them the truth, that my husband would get the photograph within the hour."
If it wasn't obvious to Jack and Elsa before, it was now.
"I'm so sorry; I told them everything. They know about the merger."
Jack closed his eyes and uttered a whisper of 'shit…' while Elsa's head dipped low with a sigh of solemn realisation. Jeanette looked between them with barely controlled franticness, her hands wringing themselves to within an inch of their lives.
"That's why you instantly accepted the offer, you knew they would try to intercept it and wanted us to get there first?" Elsa asked after a time, once her stomach had slowed its churning. Jeanette nodded, her eyes beginning to shimmer.
"You must understand, I love my husband, I had no choice…I-"
"Yes you had," Jack cut her off with ill-concealed anger, "you could have chosen not to have the affair, then Southernisle would have nothing-"
"Jack."
Elsa's stern voice rang out in the empty room, quiet but firm. Jack shot her an irritated glance, to which she coolly responded with her eyes to the board member who, after his terse remark, was now on the verge of tears.
"I'm sorry," he sighed, "I shouldn't have said that. Southernisle would have made something up anyway."
Elsa shot him another reproachful look before turning back to Jeanette, and with as sympathetic a smile and as soft a voice as she could muster, she spoke to the tortured woman.
"Thank you for telling us, Jeanette. If you wouldn't mind, I would like to have a word with Mr Overland alone."
Jeanette sniffed as she nodded, then quickly turned towards the door and left before anything else could be said. Elsa turned towards her boyfriend and regarded him with a stern expression.
"It isn't your place to lecture my board members."
Jack cast a sidelong glance, and exhaled deeply through his nose, as though he was forcing the anger out through his breath.
"I said I was sorry. Besides, now that they know, there's a real chance that there won't be a board left."
He growled something unintelligible and walked over to the nearest wall – thankfully made of a sturdy metal – and aimed a solid punch that rattled the nearby glass. The scene startled Elsa, who had seen Jack mildly annoyed or irritated but never angry.
"Jack." she said again, this time with a decidedly calmer, please-don't-do-that-again voice. He turned and glanced between her and his knuckles – red but thankfully blood-less – and uttered another deep sigh.
"Sorry…again…I just…I should have seen this coming."
Elsa walked over to her boyfriend and slid her fingers across his newly-reddened hand, and gave it a light squeeze. His grip was weak, a symptom of his uncertainty and thickly-veiled panic.
"There's nothing we can do about it now, I suppose. They've already made the calls."
Jack sighed, the exhalation heavy with solemnity, and ran his free hand through his snowy hair as he gently shook his head.
"No, there is one thing."
He caught her eyes, and though she was attempting to convey a sanguine, almost fatalist approach to the revelation, her eyes told the same story as his.
"We pray."
The Duke tapped his foot in increasing agitation as he waited for the woman known as Jessica to connect him. Apparently, the head stockbroker – the one that passes around Richard's orders – had taken himself off twenty minutes ago for a quick bite to eat at what could possibly be the worst time ever.
After multiple apologies from the woman, she finally – and with no small amount of relief – was happy to announce that she was connecting his call to the gentleman in question, and the Duke was unable to keep the curtness from his voice as he thanked her. He eyed the clock on his desk – three thirty-five. He wondered if they were too late.
"Hello?"
"Good afternoon, Alexander Brook, is it? My name is Julian Weselton, I'm the partner of Southernisle and Weselton…and, right now, I'm acting on Richard Black's behalf."
He audibly heard a few nervous coughs as the man cleared his throat, and had he been in New York he would have seen Mr Brook jerk bolt upright in his seat at the mere mention of the Black name.
"Yes sir. W-what can I do for you?"
"I have instructions for you to carry out. Fractal Fashion is about to embark on a merger with North Pole Toy Industries, and they are supposedly selling their stock within the next twenty five minutes. I need-"
The Duke stopped short as muffled voices reached his ears from the other side of his door. He couldn't make out any words, but they were spoken with such agitation and pseudo-panic that it instantly pushed the phone-call out of his mind.
"Hello? What is it that you want us to do?"
He didn't answer, as the voices grew clear enough for him to make out a few words, and he knew that whoever was in the corridor was on their way to his office.
"Excuse me! You can't go in there! Mr Weselton doesn't want to be disturbed! Excuse me!"
The door burst open, and the Duke's eyes widened with surprise and something approaching fear as two detectives, a man and a woman entered the room, followed by two uniformed State Police officers.
"W-What is this?"
The female detective strode towards him, easily circumventing the desk while the two police officers rested their hands on their firearms, while the male detective crossed his arms across his chest with a rather pleased expression on his face.
"You are under arrest, Mr Weselton." he spoke with a dry, Irish accent.
"On what charge?! I have done nothing wrong!" he said, the nervousness in his voice failing to hide the lie. The female officer roughly snatched the receiver away, pulled his hands behind his back and cuffed them together, while another woman pushed aside the receptionist as she entered the room – and that was when the Duke knew everything was going to hell.
Maleficent curled a predatory, victorious smile at him. Wearing her battle-hairstyle with the victory rolls, blood-red lipstick and a dark green suit, she looked every inch the cat among the proverbial pigeons.
"I beg to differ. Accessory to the first degree murders of Sarah and Sophie Overland, accessory to the first degree murder of Celeste Whitehall, accessory to the arson of Jackson Overland's home, accessory to the attempted murder of Jackson Overland, accessory to the attempted rape of Anna Snowfield, accessory to theft and…obstruction of justice."
The Duke barely heard the Miranda rights being read to him as he shot a scowl to his mortal nemesis, who didn't even bat an eye.
"You have the right to remain silent."
"You have no proof, those are just empty words!" he snapped, just barely below a shout.
"Oh, but we do…and I have a search warrant – signed by a judge, naturally – that allows the State Police access to your Records room. Who knows what we would find?"
The Duke paled to the colour of pure white as he gaped, his body language telling Maleficent everything she wanted to know and more.
"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
"I mean, if we should happen to stumble upon further evidence of criminal deeds? My, my. What an awkward situation."
"You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you."
"My lawyers will have a field day with this! That is an unlawful warrant and this is an unlawful arrest!" he blustered, the pale white face replaced with a bright red.
"On the contrary, Mr Weselton. This arrest and this warrant are about as lawful as it gets. Make no mistake – the crimes of your firm and those of the Black corporation end here."
"Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?"
The Duke opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish at least ten times, trying desperately to figure a way out, to weasel out of the corner that he was trapped in…and he knew from the fire in Maleficent's eyes, the knowledge that she wouldn't be here unless she had all of her ducks in a row told him that he had no hope – and when he next spoke, it was without the confidence, the imperiousness or the strength for which he had become famous within the company.
"…yes."
The mood within the Fractal Fashion board room was decidedly tenser than before Jeanette's revelation.
Rather than barely suppressed smiles and excited whispers, there was a notable air of worry and uncertainty – though not within the board members themselves. Upon their return to the room, Elsa had filled the gang in on the revelation and the possible consequences – along with the knowledge that right now, there was nothing they could do. She chose to keep the information from the rest of the board as they were jittery enough without Jeanette's revelation adding to it.
Jack had taken to pacing a short distance back and forth with a hand across his chest and the other supporting his chin while Elsa stood gazing out of the window. Hiccup was sat by the desk staring at a fixed, invisible point, while Merida had crossed her arms and rubbed her upper left arm in self-comfort.
Kristoff was stood with his hands wrapped around Anna's stomach, and Phil stood with his feet shoulder-length apart and his hands behind his back – seemingly a habit he retained from his military days.
Each one wore the same expression of frowning worry, the understanding that the next five minutes potentially held the worst news anyone could hope for…and the silence? It was deafening.
A silence that was ripped asunder by the guitar chords of Led Zeppelin's Kashmir, and almost as soon as the first notes rang out in the room all heads snapped to Jack who had frozen in place mid-stride. He and Elsa shared the same look of realisation and hope, and with one trembling hand he pulled his singing phone from his pocket, glanced between the caller ID and his girlfriend, took a deep breath and pressed the Answer icon.
"Yes?"
Elsa walked over to stand about eight inches in front of him, watching his reactions like a hawk. A smile, a sigh…even the rise or fall of a single eyebrow could put her mind at ease, or break her heart. Jack's face remained blank and expressionless as he listened, occasionally nodding slowly.
"Thank you."
He pocketed the phone once more and there was an audible hitching of breath around the room. Elsa's mouth was parted as the anticipation coursed through her body, and all eyes burned into the back and sides of Jack's skull. The silence was so great, even the dropping of a pin could sound like an explosion.
Jack took a deep breath and licked his lips, his expression blank and unreadable. Elsa watched his mouth intently…
…as the thin, pursed lips cracked into a wild grin.
"Welcome to the family."
Her jaw dropped and her face exploded into gleeful joy as cheers erupted around the room, including a rather loud "Fuck yeah!" from a certain Scot. Elsa gasped as she slowly nodded, less of an acknowledgement but more of a silent request for confirmation – which Jack was only too happy to oblige.
She threw her arms around him and squeezed tightly, not even bothering to hide the kisses that she planted on his cheek.
"It worked?" she whispered into his ear, and felt him nod into her shoulder.
"Oh yes."
"Oh my God…this is actually happening…" she whispered once more, feeling Jack stroke up and down her spine in support.
"Oh yes."
They both basked in the uplifting heat of elation that filled their entire beings, the sounds of resounding cheers echoing in their ears and minds, feeling the security of being in each other's arms. They didn't know how they beat Black to the punch, nor did they care.
Right now, they were immersed in the joy that everything had paid off, and that there was only one thing left to do.
A deep clearing of the throat made itself known, and the two CEOs parted the embrace to see Phil stood by their side, a knowing and wise smile hidden behind his beard and a brown leather briefcase in his hands. Elsa beamed widely as she watched him walk past them to the meeting room table, watched by an incredulous Jeanette – who was obviously expecting the worst. She glanced at Jack who instantly caught her eye, and nodded with the characteristic smirk.
It's real.
Phil flicked the clasps and swiftly opened the briefcase, then pulled out a piece of paper along with an expensive-looking silver fountain pen. He placed the document directly in front of the CEO's chair, and first offered the pen to Jack – who shook his head and waved his hand in refusal.
"No, no. I think Miss Snowfield should have the honour of signing first."
Phil's beard hitched just that little bit more in a hidden grin, and he turned with the pen-hand extended towards Elsa, who almost hesitated. This was a huge thing for them – two signatures to create a brand new company.
Each board member stood with their hands in front of them, all with expressions of polite excitement. Hiccup, Anna, Kristoff and Merida all moved around the table and smiled expectantly at the now slightly-trembling soon-to-be-co-CEO who took a deep, galvanising breath.
"Thank you, Phil." she said, accepting the pen with a grateful nod.
She seated herself in the empty chair with the contract directly in front of her, and though she already knew what had been typed on the piece of paper, professionalism dictated that she read through it nonetheless. A pregnant silence sat in the room as all eyes watched her assimilate the document, and with a decisive singular nod she signed on the dotted line at the bottom left.
Claps echoed around the room, and Elsa felt her smile widen that bit more, feeling her heart thunder in her chest as she started to rise from the chair in order for Jack to take her place. He decided not to sit, however, choosing instead to rest his left arm on the back of Elsa's seat, leaned so close to her that she caught the scent of his aftershave – which didn't help the mild light-headedness or the beating of her heart – and picked up the pen to add his name to the document.
Elsa blushed fiercely as she heard Kristoff's deep tones loudly whisper "Bring out the rings!" followed by a yelp as Anna undoubtedly clapped him around the back of the head. Glancing at Jack, she noticed a deep red appear in his cheeks too, along with the twitching of his mouth only associated with a smirk.
She watched him scrawl his signature, which was decidedly less elegant than hers yet still way above doctor-level unintelligibility, and once he handed the pen back to Phil he straightened up, took a step back so Elsa had space to rise, and offered his hand.
"On behalf of the North Pole, soon to be Snowfield-Overland, I look forward to working with you, Miss Snowfield."
Elsa adopted a regal, polite smile as befitting a professional CEO and stood, grasping his hand tightly as she gazed into his cobalt eyes so full of promise and pride.
"And I look forward to working with you, Mr Overland."
They shook firmly, both lost in each other's eyes as cheers erupted around them once more. Jack was vaguely aware of Phil's huge form disappearing from his vision and pulling the door open, but then became acutely aware of him gesturing to three members of the company's catering staff. Three trolleys were pushed in, two of them sported dozens of champagne flutes and the final trolley carried four buckets – inside each one rested a bottle of chilled champagne surrounded by crushed ice. Jack glanced at Elsa with narrowed, amusedly suspicious eyes.
"Did you and Phil…?"
Elsa made a sound of 'mmhm!' as she proudly nodded and gestured to the third trolley, an unspoken suggestion for him to have the honour of opening the first bottle. Jack felt a surge of nervousness shooting up his spine as he followed her to the champagne, and with a slightly trembling hand he pulled out the closest bottle. He was suddenly struck with the mischievous idea of shaking it and aiming the bottle at Elsa, but he knew that she would probably kill him – or have him sleep on the sofa for a year and then kill him.
So, he went for the safer option of aiming it towards the ceiling – the cork shot off with a satisfying pop as the froth slipped out of the rim, and he hastily charged the first two glasses that Elsa had picked up and held towards him. They both waited until every glass had been seen to and was in the hands of each occupant of the room…and then the worst thing that someone could possibly say to him was indeed said.
"Speech!" Hiccup's voice rang out above the happy murmurs in the room, which was then echoed by every mouth. Jack rolled his eyes and caught Elsa's gaze, and she wiggled her eyebrows as if to say "well, go on then!".
"Alright, alright!" he sighed, raising a hand so he could speak, "Those of you here that know me, know that I'm no good with speeches – so I'll keep this short."
He held his glass into the air, a gesture mimicked by everyone else.
"Here's to a new year, a new company and a new future for Snowfield-Overland."
Murmurs of "hear, hear" mingled in the air…but as with any profound moment, something had to cheapen it.
"That was the speech?" Anna questioned incredulously – but the impish smirk on her face betrayed her.
"It was dumb!" Hiccup grinned, following her train of thought.
"It was obvious!" Merida joined in, winking at Anna.
"It was pointless!" added Kristoff.
"It was…short…" finished Phil…and then with shared glances of gleeful pride that they all understood the movie reference…except the board members who were juggling quizzical expressions, and Elsa who wore a look of 'You just had to go there, didn't you…'
"…I loved it!"
Jack groaned and covered his face with his palm, knowing that one day his friends would be the death of him.
Had Richard Black looked out of the window at seven o'clock in the evening, he probably would have stayed on board.
The jet had landed not ten minutes before – an effortless, comfortable descent that he had come to expect from his pilot. Slowly taxiing off the runway towards his personal hangar, he was too buried in his work to notice the group of people waiting in the distance.
He unclipped his seatbelt once the jet had reached its final position to rest, and relied on his peripheral vision to guide his movement toward the hatch…still too focused on the documents in his hand. Muttering a quiet thanks to the stewardess after she lowered the hatch that doubled as the steps, he still kept his gaze firmly locked on the words as he descended them rather than the surrounding world – he expected the polite greeting and query as to how productive his trip was from his chauffeur, but what he got was decidedly different…and that caught his attention.
"Mr Richard Black?"
He looked up to find two people, a black-haired man and a blonde woman dressed in suits with State Police badges on lanyards.
"Yes, why? What is the meaning of this?"
His answer came in the form of the male officer circling around him. The papers were removed from his hand and passed to the blonde, and his arms were pulled behind his back and held in place.
"You are under arrest, Mr Black. You have the right…"
The rest of the Miranda warning fell on deaf ears as he spat out his fury and contempt at, as he saw it, the obvious breach of human rights…but when he was led towards a waiting police car, he caught a glimpse of a woman in a green suit, with diamond-cutting cheekbones and a victorious expression on her face.
That was when he realised that everything had gone to hell.
"So what are you guys doing after work? You finish at seven, right? We're all going out on the town to bring the New Year in with style!"
"…with five hours to go?"
"Like I said: with style!"
"Well…Jack and I have a prior engagement…maybe we could meet up at the city centre at eleven?"
"What could you and Jack be doing for four hours…OH…that's fine! We'll see you then!"
Elsa's conversation with Anna after the signing of the contract still bounced around in her mind, causing her to randomly giggle as she drove home in her Cadillac – though that was largely down to the fierce red on Anna's cheeks as she slowly understood Elsa's meaning, thinly veiled as it was.
Jack was sat in the passenger seat, occasionally casting glances her way whenever she giggled, and quietly snickered to himself when he saw the flare-up of crimson in Elsa's otherwise milky ears. Both of them knew exactly what was going to be happening as soon as they got through the front door, and the thought of it never failed to further stoke the already unbearable fires in their chests.
Neither of them spoke during the twenty minute journey back to Elsa's house…because words were insufficient for what was about to happen.
When they finally arrived, Elsa had barely opened the door before Jack's lips were on her neck, soft kisses tracing a delicate line from behind her right ear down to the collar of her jacket. A single, contented sigh escaped her mouth as she closed her eyes, revelling in the light tingles that erupted from each contact as they sent shivers down her spine.
"Couldn't wait, huh?" she whispered, enjoying the attentive kisses.
"Nope." Jack answered, elongating the 'n'. Elsa chuckled and offered more of her neck to him which he slowly but gratefully accepted – teasing her with light, gentle nibbles along the line he just made. He slid his arms around her stomach and held her close to him…this was not the almost feral passion that they partook when he arrived for the first time, but something deeper and richer.
She pulled his arms away from her just enough for her to turn on the spot, then as he pressed as much of his body against hers, trapping his arms around her so she couldn't escape – not that she wanted to – she laced her hands around the back of his head and pulled his lips to hers, inextricably capturing them. He swallowed her gentle moans as their mouths moved in unison, tongues playing tag with each other and tingling sensations spreading fiercely from the contact.
"You know," she whispered, pulling away just enough to make her voice heard, "your Queen has a royal command for you."
"Uh-huh? And what might that be, Your Majesty?" he muttered, directing his lips to her jaw, which then allowed her to whisper into his ear – the sensation of which never failed to drive him into a frenzy.
"I had better not be able to walk after this…"
Even in the dark, with the moon being the only source of light that streamed in through the open windows – and indeed, the perpetually open door – Elsa could easily tell that Jack had gone a bright red. Briefly, his grip on her had abated which allowed her to slink away, and with a teasing stroke of his face she winked then strode off to the bedroom. Jack watched her round the corner out of his sight, and then with a purposeful tap of his heel to close the door, a throbbing erection and a smirk, he muttered something that undoubtedly only he could hear before marching off after her.
"Challenge accepted, Your Majesty."
Her hands are already on him as soon as he steps through the bedroom door, doing away with any pretence of control or restraint. He presses his lips to hers in a fierce embrace, their lips moving in complete unison whilst tongues dance the waltz together. The lightest moans that escape her throat are swiftly swallowed by his, and each one drives him just that little bit further.
He breaks the kiss, which elicits the tiniest of whimpers – something he soon rectifies by directing his attention to the clean part of her neck, the side that so far had escaped his earlier ministrations. Tracing a convoluted line of kisses and nibbles, he feels the vibration of her gasps under his lips as she offers more of her skin to him…something he is glad to accept. Resting his hands on her hips, he sharply pulls her against him; shuddering as even through four separate items of clothing he can feel her grind against him, feel her core desperately try to touch him. The moans come a little louder now, and the fumbling of his waistcoat becomes more frantic. She wants what's under those clothes; she needs to feel his bare skin under her fingertips, his scars against her body.
That was another thing that Jack loved about Elsa, because in his mind he was damaged goods – no perfect cheese-grating abs or pectoral muscles that could dance the can-can on Youtube. Just scarred, imperfect Jackson Overland…and she loved him all the same.
They start to step slowly towards the bed, hands working involuntarily to free themselves of each other's clothing. His waistcoat is the first to go, followed closely by her jacket, and Jack takes this second to appease his ears' desire to hear another of her pleasured gasps, so he slides his cool hands under her blouse along her spine. She stiffens against him, letting loose a high-pitched moan against his left ear and grinds herself harder.
He unclips her bra under the blouse and slides his hand under the fabric, resting the still cool hands – which was odd, given the sheer heat radiating from her skin, or maybe that's just sexual heat – over the softness of her breasts and teases her nipples with his fingertips, tracing circles around her areolas and flicking the buds under his thumbs. Another whimper of pleasure escapes her lips, and with the knowledge that she won't be able to cope with the constant buzz coursing through her body, her hands – with a speed rivalling that of The Flash – undo the rest of his shirt and unclip his trousers with remarkable dexterity.
Jack pauses for a second and does a small double-take – in less than ten seconds he had gone from relatively fully-dressed to only in his boxers, one hell of a tent proudly standing there as testament to Elsa's allure. He glances back up and she has this coy smirk across her bitten lips, and she has the nerve to be slowly undoing her blouse with one hand while sliding out of her skirt with the other.
He watches as she turns her back on him and walks toward the bed, gently sashaying her hips in an unspoken gesture of "I've been waiting all day for you to fuck me", and as her blouse drops to the floor with her bra not far behind, she seductively bends down to slide her skirt to the floor.
That's when he notices what lingerie she's wearing, and to say it makes the throbbing hardness in his boxers almost painful is an understatement. She's toting the exact same underwear that she wore when they first made love, with the addition of thigh-length tights clipped to a garter belt.
Has she been planning this all day?
With her bare back exposed to him she looks back with an almost cocky glint in her eye, and Jack realises – yes, she has.
Fantasy: made.
He surges forward and wraps her in his arms, pressing his length against her ass and trapping her chest in his arms, devoting more attention to the crook of her neck with his nibbles and near-enough bites to the sensitive parts of her skin. A pleasured yelp shoots out from her mouth with the sudden 'attack', and one hand reaches around her back and slides itself under the elastic of his boxers, curling itself around his length and rubbing it from base to tip, using the palm of her hand to stimulate the head – not that it needed further stimulation. Grunts and groans slip from his mouth from the gentle yet needing fondles, and with the knowledge that he's probably going to come very soon, he unwraps his arms from around her, turns her around and pushes her onto the bed.
There's no fear in her eyes as he does that, no glimmer of uncertainty, only trust and more than a little bit of lustful enjoyment. She slides up against the headboard with her legs slightly apart, and he climbs onto the mattress and crawls over her, keeping his body just above hers to tease the contact as he presses his lips to hers, revelling in the fierce contact.
She has no patience for teasing at this point as she arches her back to feel his body against hers, to feel his cool skin against her nipples and his cock against her clit. He begins a long line of kisses and licks down her collarbone, along the left side of her body and smiles to himself as he feels the light shudders under his tongue. Reaching the base of her left breast, he pays particular attention to heightening the sensations for her, knowing that the anticipation alone is sometimes enough to drive someone over the edge.
It wasn't until his kisses reached her navel that, with an understanding of his intent, she grasps his head with her hands and gently lifts his face to hers, and with a confused narrowing of the eyes he questions her motive. Why stop now, when he was just about to get to the good stuff?
"It occurred to me…" she says with a mildly breathless voice, "that the last time we did this, all things were not equal. So, in the interest of fair…play…"
Jack's world suddenly goes topsy-turvy as her hand pushes him over onto his back. Where once his eyes drank in her perfect form on the bed, now they stare at her as she mounts him, eating him alive with hungry kisses along his jaw and throat, and with a blissful shiver down his spine she whispers into his ear.
"My turn."
She dismounts and kneels to the side of him, pressing agonisingly slow touches against his chest with her lips, and he's vaguely aware of one hand sliding down his hip and invading his boxer shorts…but she's not jerking him off, she's freeing him. He feels the cool evening air nip at his length for all of a few seconds before an all-encompassing wet warmth envelops him, and with his eyes clamped shut to endure the huge surge of pleasure he realises exactly what she meant.
"O-okay…yes…equality is good…" he just about manages, melting into the searing heat and velvety smoothness of her mouth, feeling his consciousness hold its hands up and go "welp, that's it for me. Bye!" as she bobs up and down. In a moment of exceptionally brief clarity as his body completely loses itself, he notices that his hands are starting to flail about for something to do.
So he sets them a task.
Lifting Elsa's entire lower half over him, he feels the vibrations of a surprised yelp along his length which both amuses and sends a flash of intense electricity through him, heightened when she partially loses her balance and flops down against his body. It's almost like a magnetic attraction that sears them both to the muscle at the complete bodily contact.
"Jack," she gasps, "what are you…oh…"
Her answer comes in the form of his fingers nimbly lacing themselves around her underwear and sliding them, albeit mildly ungracefully and a little clumsily, down towards her calves and his mouth instantly latching itself onto her core, his arms gripping her thighs close to his head so she can't move away – not that she wants to, at this point – while his tongue laps and his lips kiss at her bud. He can feel her muffled moans against his length as she involuntarily grinds against his mouth, hearing her sounds of pleasure rush from her throat only to be halted by the part of his body that she so lovingly and hungrily tends to with her ministrations.
It isn't long before she's starting to land on Runway Orgasm, as the jerking of her pelvis against his chin along with the bobbing becomes less controlled and more frantic, and with a smirk against her folds he relishes the thought that this is the side of Elsa only he gets to see, where she opens herself fully to him and only him.
To say it makes him feel like the luckiest guy in the world is the understatement of the century.
She gives up on trying to please him further as the moans and whines come faster and louder, finding that having something constantly touching the back of her throat kind of impedes one's ability to breathe and release the sounds of passion, which Jack is partly thankful for as he had no idea if he would be able to last any longer with that glorious velvety softness sucking away.
He feels her hips try to attempt a paradox, bucking away from his mouth at the same time as into it, and he knows that she is about to explode into the first orgasm of the night – that, and the ever increasing shuddering of her body combined with the higher pitch of her voice…and with an barely suppressed squeal she utters his name to the room, her eyes screwed shut as the storm inside reaches its apex.
"You know…ah, fuck…you…where did you…oh my God…learn that?" she gasps, the dizzying rush stealing her breath.
"When you spend a lot of time on your own, you tend to…pick up a few things…" he teases, a cryptic tone to his voice. Elsa turns back and fixes him with a stare that is split three ways between impressed, unsurprised and downright turned-on.
There's a hungry glint in her eye that governs her next actions, and Jack wonders for a second precisely who is the closet pervert in the relationship – but that thought goes right out of the window along with all semblance of cognitive function when she crawls further down his body, voluntarily or involuntarily – he's not sure which – sliding her entire body across his chest towards its destination…and with a barely controlled throbbing of sheer ecstasy he sees that she's now sat above his length and is slowly – but surely – lowering herself onto it, her back and ass facing him in a reverse of the last time she rode him senseless.
"I don't…oh, fucking hell…don't-AH-remember…you being this…big…oh, this feels so good…"
Jack is vaguely aware of the surprised compliment as his head swims in total helplessness, all brain functions holding up a white flag in surrender, and he thinks he manages to utter a reply.
"…that...Jeeeeesus Christ….or you've gotten…holy shit…tighter…"
He knows she's blushing fiercely right now, probably due to the light slap on his thigh, but with an inevitability rivalling that of the rising and setting of the sun, she eventually slides down onto him, every inch swallowed whole by her core. A solid, high-pitched whimper rushes forth from her lips as she feels him fill her completely, a new angle found inside her reaching places she didn't know were there.
At this point, Jack has to really concentrate to not lose himself inside her right this point, because he has a job to do. She wants to be rendered pleasurably immobile, and what the Queen wants, the Queen gets. He summons every single non-sexual thing he can think of into what's left of his mind, not worrying about the usual effect it would have on his stiffness – the constricted moist heat is seeing to that – and reaches his hands out to her, splaying his fingers out over her shoulders and slowly stroking her perfect back from shoulder-blade to ass and back up. She arches her spine against him, the shivering sensation of his unusually cool hands mingling with the inferno building once more in her core. She knew about alternate temperatures and how they can heighten pleasure, but this was so, so much more intense. She wonders – albeit briefly, in a lightning-addled mind – if that's less to do with the biological perks, or the fact that it's him doing it…and her body speaks to her of its need to move, to feel him slide inside her and she has her answer.
She loves him more than life itself, and he would burn the world for her.
Her hips begin to move, slowly at first so as to not come right there and then – the sensations were so strong, so uncontrollable – and she feels him gently match her movements, responding to the involuntary tightening of her sex around him. Her moans come free and easy, and she remembers that no-one is in the house, so she can gasp, moan, squeal and scream all she wants and not have to cover her mouth like she would have done in the elevator…and boy does she moan. She loses control of her bodily movements as the journey to heaven goes on autopilot, and she gives up trying. Her pelvis bucks against him with increasing vigour and possessiveness, his hands now firmly resting on her butt-cheeks and squeezing, kneading, playing. Her hands grip his thighs to cope with the dizzying high, and she is partly aware of her nails dragging along his skin.
It's not until she feels his legs suddenly cross, his chest press against her spine, his lips and teeth on her right shoulder and his hands splay out over her breasts, gently yet firmly caressing her erect nipples that she knows she is about to come again – and she finds a new facet to Jack that she's not sure is a good thing or not…when it comes to orgasms, he's a sadist. Her hips buck fiercely and furiously against him, feeling him constantly tap that magic spot in addition to filling her, and as she falls off the edge into the thunderstorm he…keeps…going. While her body jerks and shudders, while she shouts his name and reaches around to his back to add a few more nail-marks, while her head twists to capture her lips with his at the same time as she almost pleads "fuck me!", he keeps the rhythm going, keeps the pleasure train running and she falls over the edge again, and again, and again, in some kind of perversely sexual Groundhog Day.
Multiples, the holy grail of orgasms and she just had them, screaming her lover's name with each one.
She feels the last explosion inside her and her body's shuddering start to even out, and with a thin layer of sweat kissing her skin, and the last of the utters leaving her lips, he slides out from under her and she collapses forward onto her arms, her head hanging down as she surfs the maelstrom of pleasure coursing through her entire being.
"Fuck…that…was…intense…" she gasps out, her world black as her eyes are clamped shut. Her body still twitches with the aftershocks, which are then intensified when she feels Jack's hand on her right hip, holding her firmly and – with a sound that starts as a moan and ends in a squeal – slides himself right back into her, a grunting of her name to garnish. She wonders if she could take any more, but when he starts to move inside her, both of his hands firmly holding her hips and occasionally pulling her back as he thrusts forward…
…maybe just one more.
The sounds escaping from their mouths are downright inhuman, growls and squeals, utterances of each other's names, liberal curses and compliments of each other's skin, beauty or anatomy that border on perverted.
Out in the world, she is elegant, he is quirky. She is regal, he is focused. They are strong, they are powerful…but right now, they're outright possessed.
She can hear his grunts become deeper and longer, his moans becoming louder and louder, mingling with the vocal heralding of her nth storm inside and she knows he is about to let himself go. She pleads with him to wait, to come at the same time as her, but he can't wait any longer. With a growl of her name that thrills her to the core, he fills her completely, letting himself loose inside her with one last, deep thrust – which luckily pushes her the last inch over the edge as she comes…and comes hard.
Roars of 'Elsa!' mix with screams of 'Jack!' in the room as they come together, both jerking and shuddering against each other, each minute movement causing extra flashes of pleasure that damn near render them unconscious. Her head is spinning with the breathlessness and the ridiculously strong orgasm and she collapses onto the bed with deep satisfaction, sucking in every breath like it's the only thing stopping her from spinning into hazy, warm darkness.
"That…" she manages, licking her lips and wetting her dry mouth so she can speak, "was…incredible…"
She can still feel him twitch inside her, and it forces out tiny little moans each time, and she basks in the searing heat and ecstatic thunder possessing her body. If making love is supposed to bring you close to heaven, she just high-fived God. His warm breath sends tingles along her back as he plants a line of kisses down her spine, and with a quiet whimper she feels him slide out, but enjoys the part of him that he left behind.
The bed dips beside her as he flops down, sweat glistening all over his body, his scars, and those mildly defined muscles that she so enjoys tracing her fingers over. He gazes at her, his breath calming down as his body relaxes from the sexual fury, and there's a look in his eyes that makes her feel shy and exposed, yet precious and beautiful. They lay like that for some time, just staring into each other's eyes, knowing that words alone can't describe the moment they're living in.
The moment where they are laid bare for each other, totally exposed but neither of them shrink away from what they see, but brings them closer together, and they wish that time outside this room could stop and they could live in this moment forever.
"Only the best for my Queen." he murmurs, stroking the side of her face with his left hand. She closes her eyes and melts into his touch, letting loose a satisfied purr.
"I love you, Jack."
Four words that make his heart dance.
"I love you, Elsa."
Four words that make hers sing.
He scoots over to her and holds his left arm out, and she snuggles her face against his chest, tightly entwining her body with his. Hearing his heart thump in her ears, she smiles widely and makes a sound of satisfaction. He strokes his hand along her now messy braid, revelling in the warmth that exists from her touch.
Except…don't they have somewhere to be?
"What time is it?" she murmurs into his chest, and Jack gives the wall a mildly incredulous look.
"I'm not exactly wearing a watch…"
She raps his back in revenge for his snarky comment, regretfully disassembles herself from him and with a less than graceful roll, scoots to the edge of the bed and attempts to stand. The keyword being attempt, as once she is upright she damn near falls over. Jack sniggers with an impossibly smug expression as she tries desperately to hold onto something, swaying all over the place like a naked, intoxicated angel.
"Woah…shit…forwards…must go forwards…you know, when I said about not being able to walk, I was being metaphorical!"
"Now you tell me. Should I have gone easier on you?" he says, a smirk adorning his features. She shoots him a look split between a glare and a tease.
"I didn't say that-…"
Slowly and a little ungainly, she makes her way over to the suit jacket that holds her phone, and with an expression that radiates surprise and more than a little excitement as she brings it out of standby, she notices that there is still plenty of time between now and their rendezvous with the gang. Feeling her body start to recover a little, she doesn't bother to retrieve the dressing gown hanging on her door as she looks back at Jack, still laid on the bed and regarding her with a mildly curious expression.
"Well, we've got lots of time to kill…so, I'm going to take a shower…"
"Okay. I'll go in after you." he says, sliding off the bed to retrieve his clothes in preparation. He notes with a little bit of frustration that those are the only clothes he has, and he really…really needs to buy some more. Maybe a few spare navy hoodies, just in case. Glancing up, he is surprised to see Elsa is still standing there like a naked, teasing example of beauty, and the sight reminds him that in his mind, she is still absolutely perfect – including that sultry expression she wears that makes his heart skip a beat, and a part of him begin to stiffen once more.
"No, Jack. You're coming with me."
Jack nearly falls over as he chases a chuckling Elsa into the bathroom.
A/N:
Sorry about the Muppets reference. I couldn't resist. Hope y'all enjoyed the smut you dirty, dirty people (though I can't say anything, I wrote the bloody stuff).
Er, bit of a heads up. The next chapter might not be in a weeks time for a few reasons: one, I turn 27 on Saturday (go me /groan) so writing free day then. Secondly, I'm ill and have all sorts of sniffly and chesty crap, so...yeah. The bloody cold DOES bother me. Thirdly, my daughter has had her pre-school vaccinations, so she's going to be grumbly and gripey and basically a miniature me. Hands will be full. I'll do what I can with free time, but please be patient.
I'd also like to thank everyone for their kind reviews, PMs (you know who you are, love you all), follows and favourites. To reach over two hundred of the bloody things is a miracle for me and one I will cherish and savour.
Oh yeah...sneak peek at Of Ghosts and Valkyries.
"Harvester said non-lethal!"
Pitch gave him incredulous, which was ironic given that one of his shadow-tendrils was strangling the guard against the wall, suspending him eight inches from the floor.
"This is non-lethal, Jack."
"Pitch, you're suffocating him. He blacked out six seconds ago. Knock it off." Jack ordered, gesturing to the ground to punctuate his point.
The taller Ghost narrowed his eyes, and then reluctantly decided to relent. The guard fell to the ground with an unceremonious *thump*, completely inert but mercifully still breathing. Jack mouthed a mildly sarcastic "thank you" and nodded towards Anna, who was waiting by the newly-loaded ammunition truck and making a show of checking an invisible watch.
"You just want to suck the joy out of everything..." he grumbled, shouldering his G36 and following Jack towards the rendezvous point, stepping over unconscious bodies with graceful contempt.
Also, hoping to try and find someone who is savvy with Photoshop and the like who would be willing to do some awesome edits for cover art. I don't really know the etiquette behind requests, so...yeah. *shrugs*
Right, so...that's it for me for now.
Until next time, true believers.