The Battle Of Who Could Care Less – 51 (NC-17)

"As long as I've known you…there has always been a guard stationed outside this door."

Jason Morgan smiled wearily as he fished his keys out of the pocket of his damp black pants. The wetsuit still clung to him even after hours spent running around the hospital, and he was looking forward to donning something that wasn't cold and reeking of dead fish.

"Yeah, well…"

Elizabeth chuckled quietly to herself, the sound listless and humorless in the darkness. Of course there weren't any guards protecting Harborview Towers at the moment.

Alcazar's men, formerly stationed outside, had all been cleared out and the army of them that had taken up the entire town and held it under siege was now gone, along with the valuable property that they had made their popular hangouts. When Sonny pushed the button to detonate, he not only sent up his own warehouses and offices into flames but also his enemies: it was a fair trade, though costly as Luke had warned.

His own men had also been vastly diminished in number. When Alcazar took control, many of them turned to the other side to save their own lives. The loyal were systematically killed when they proved to be obstacles. The men left were spread out all over town and were already disposing of the multitude of corpses that littered the small town of Port Charles like charred gum wrappers.

And that was why the Towers stood alone in the slowly healing town. Elizabeth rubbed the knots at the back of her neck and shoulders as Jason slipped his key into the lock and kicked the door open when it stuck slightly. Heaving a sigh of relief, she shuffled inside as he held the door and just stood still in the center of the penthouse as the enforcer locked it behind them.

She had only moved out two days before rushing off to Mexico with Luke and Lucky, but her time spent in Penthouse 2 seemed more like two lifetimes ago. Everything seemed foreign for a moment, as if she had never lived there at all, but began to slowly come back as Jason moved around behind her, removing his gun from his waistband and securing it.

Wordlessly, she turned and pulled her own revolver out from the waistband of her black cargos. Jason blinked, unable to mask a quick flicker of surprise, but then took the weapon from her extended palm and put it away in the same box that he then locked and placed on the high shelf in the closet.

They didn't bother to turn on the lights; there was no need because the morning sun was streaming in through the balcony doors. Instead of lingering, Jason placed a large hand at the small of her back, gently guiding her toward the stairs. The brunette's steps were heavy as she plodded upstairs with him close behind.

She kicked off her shoes on the landing and was already pulling off her waterproof wristwatch. The black metal clinked as she set it down on the small wooden table that lined the hall – most likely something of Carly's varying decorating taste – and Jason's boots soon found themselves kicked underneath the same narrow table.

He was working on the snap of his pants while she pulled her hair back into a haphazard braid, and had already pulled his shirt out of his waistband by the time they reached the threshold to his bedroom.

Elizabeth walked in without a moment's hesitation, throwing her vest to the floor and tugging her tight black shirt over her head to reveal a soft, fitted black tank top. Jason stumbled slightly over her discarded clothes and let his own shirt drop to the massive armchair in the corner.

It took him a minute to kick off his pants and as he shuffled toward the bed clothed only in his boxer-briefs, he could make out Elizabeth's petite form in the dim light as she scurried to the head of the bed in only her black tank top and a pair of matching black bikini briefs. She sank down instantly on the pillows, completely exhausted, and he flopped down next to her moments later.

The sun slipped in through the cracks in the blinds and the birds chirped outside as the town awoke, but Jason and Elizabeth were already fast asleep.

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The last time she had slept in a bed, she was tucked away in a cozy little hotel room in Oxford, England, awaiting a rendezvous with her father's old undergraduate professor. That time, she had awoken wrapped up in Jason Morgan's arms, in a veritable lover's embrace that made her wonder what it would be like to actually be his lover.

But as her eyes slowly opened, Elizabeth knew that she wasn't in Oxford anymore. No, she was safely across the pond, back home where she belonged – and in the same arms where she belonged.

Jason was sleeping on his side, spooned up behind her. One of his thick, hard arms constituted her pillow and his hand was comfortably molded to her breast. The other arm wrapped around her waist and his hand spanned her flat stomach, the long fingers slipping easily and without pretension under her black bikini briefs.

She smirked to herself and lay still, listening to him breath as he slept on. This was definitely not a bad way to start her morning – or afternoon, rather. The moments passed slowly and she felt him eventually begin to shift as his breathing changed and it was when his hand began to move in a slow, suggestive circle low over her belly that Elizabeth knew Jason Morgan was wide awake and ready for some fun.

Grinning, she turned on her side so that she faced him and lifted her hand to gently comb her fingers through his mussed and tousled sandy spikes.

"Morning."

He treated her with a rare boyish grin and instead of reciprocating the greeting, pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. "Wanna shower with me?"

Elizabeth laughed, already sitting up as he rolled into a sitting position. "I think that would be wise."

Jason's bare feet hit the carpet with a soft thud when he slightly misjudged the distance to the end of the bed, and the brunette scrambled off the edge after him. It was a race to the massive master bath – a race that Elizabeth won, only narrowly, because Jason cheated by lifting her up in his arms and depositing her on the cool tiles.

She took a quick minute to rinse out her mouth as he stepped over to the shower and turned it on to test the water and pressure. Her eyes were still hazy, her mouth felt like a dry gym sock, and her hair looked like it had once lodged a pair of angry beavers. Her soft undergarments were wrinkled from a long morning's cat nap, and she reeked of salt water and dead fish.

Jason didn't look or smell much better, but she'd forgive him simply because of how amazing he looked in those boxer-briefs – the ones she intended to have off him in no more than twenty seconds.

When Elizabeth turned around, he was standing with the shower door partially down and watching her hesitantly, as if he fully believed that she'd change her mind and head to the guest bedroom and bathroom.

As if.

Tipping her chin up in the air, the petite brunette fixed him with a direct vixen glare and waltzed over to his side and under his arm. She had whipped her black tank top off her body and shimmied out of her bikini briefs before he could fully comprehend what was going on and stepped under the full blast of the water, quirking a brow seductively at him.

"Plan to join me anytime soon?"

Jason snapped his mouth shut and hooked his thumbs under the band of his boxers. They fell to the floor in one smooth motion and he stepped out of them and into the shower with her.

Elizabeth reached for him the moment he closed the door and Jason joined her under the spray, turning her neatly so his back was to the faucet. The spray hit him directly in the shoulder, exploding upon contact and Elizabeth licked her lips as she slicked her wet hair back.

She should have been embarrassed with the way his smoldering eyes blatantly roamed over her wet, nude form, but she wasn't. The past few weeks had taught her a thing or two about trust, and after what she and Jason had been through she knew she'd never have to doubt his trust in her and vice versa again. She trusted him now, in this moment, and she wasn't embarrassed.

It was hardly what she had imagined for their first time; standing pressed up against Jason Morgan's hard – and growing harder – form under a torrent of water was not the first scenario that had run through her mind on the many occasions when her thoughts had strayed to what it would be like to be his lover.

But as he angled her head back and ravaged her mouth, she couldn't think of any way for the moment to be improved. She had learned quickly that it was useless to try to predict and control the future; all one could do was roll with the punches, as Robert would say.

But then again, did she really want to be thinking about Robert Scorpio as Jason's fingers skimmed purposefully down her stomach to the junction of her thighs?

It was a question easily answered and Elizabeth abandoned all thought of anyone but herself and the gloriously wet mobster as he wrapped his other arm around her waist to keep her anchored close while he continued to tease her slick folds.

Dimly, she was aware of him easing her back until she hit the white tiles, her mouth still fused with his. Jason ignored her protests as he removed his hand from her center and used it to prompt her to wrap her lean legs around his waist. She complied readily, prepared to do anything to ease the ache between her thighs.

He couldn't stop touching her; he wouldn't ever stop touching her. Jason's large hands roamed her body proudly, possessively, as he explored the expanses of taut muscle and soft, lush mounds and curves that she so willingly offered him for their pleasure.

Elizabeth's moan resonated in the thick vapor that shrouded the bathroom as Jason hoisted her up, and the brunette wrapped her legs tightly around his trim waist as he pushed her higher. His hot mouth greedily sought her skin, marking her wherever he could reach and sending sizzling trails of fire blazing straight down to her center.

And when he slipped into her for the first time, slowly working his way in deeper until they were perfectly connected, it was all over. He was everything that she never knew she always wanted, all at once, and a profound feeling of awe and gratitude overcame her as a wave of fire washed through her body and sent her over the edge in a torrent of flames.

She was grateful to have known him, to have been rescued by him, to have been his friend and so much more. He wasn't perfect, but he was all that she needed. All of the time they had spent dancing back and forth, one step forward and two steps backward, seemed to be such an utterly saddening waste: all she had to do was grab what was right in front of her and hold on for dear life, which was exactly what she planned to do now.

If she had known that this was her reward for the sheer, unadulterated terror of the past few weeks, she would have pushed fearlessly on because it was all worth it. She had him now, in every way she wanted, and it was worth everything to her.