Author's Note: M-rating for this chapter
July 10, 1968
Patrick woke slowly. That was usual for him. He'd never been much of a morning person. His mind would ease from dreams into consciousness and he would lie there for a little while, letting himself adjust to his surroundings before even opening his eyes. He took stock of his position in bed, where he was lying, whether he was hot or cold or somewhere in between, if his hair had inevitably fallen in his face, moving his leg so his knee wouldn't be too stiff, deciding how long he could keep lying in bed before he desperately had to get up for a wee.
This particular morning, that regular inventory was interrupted by a shift of weight on the bed and a soft little sigh. Patrick's eyes snapped open and he was faced with a swath of blonde hair on the pillow beside him. And that was when he remembered that Shelagh had gotten into bed with him the night before. And he smiled.
They'd fallen asleep in each other's arms. She had tucked herself beneath his chin. Her fingers played with the buttons on his pajama shirt and her breaths tickled his neck slightly. Their legs tangled together lazily as his foot brushed up against her bare calf. He actually did not know what she'd worn to bed, as they'd not turned on the lights when she'd come in to join him. He could see now that her nightgown was white with pink lace trim. Very pretty. Very like Shelagh to choose.
Obviously during the night they'd each rolled over and way from each other. Patrick knew he had a tendency to toss and turn. That was mostly thanks to his arthritic knee. But he'd ended up just where he'd started, it seemed, on his side and facing towards Shelagh. She had rolled to her other side and was now facing away from him. The bedsheets were pulled up over her shoulder and he could only barely see the curve of her neck and the top of her nightgown underneath her hair.
Oh she had such lovely hair! It still boggled the mind sometimes, to think of it. He'd have never imagined that a person could fall in love with another without ever having seen their hair. It was a silly thing and really not important in the long run, but that honey-blonde hair of hers was just so incredibly beautiful. And now he could hardly think of her without it. For though he had loved her when covered by a wimple and bonnet, he now thought that her hair was his favorite of her features.
With a smile, Patrick scooted closer to her in bed. The sun was coming through the curtains, giving a bit of dim light for him to be able to see her, but he could tell it was not so early that they had to get up just yet. Surely enough time for a bit of a cuddle. He snaked left arm over her resting body and placed a gentle hand on her stomach to pull their bodies closer together. She felt so small and delicate in his arms, so beautiful and precious. The floral perfumed smell of her hair tickled his nose as he pressed his face into the silky tresses and kissed the shell of her ear through the strands.
"Good morning, my love," he whispered.
Shelagh hummed and smiled. "Oh what a nice way to wake up."
"I'm glad you're happy to be here still."
She put one of her hands on top of his where it rested on her under the covers and turned her head back to look at him as best she could. "Very happy. I take it I didn't disturb your sleep by being here?"
"Not at all. I slept very well and I hope you did, too," he replied.
Shelagh nodded. "Very well." She tilted her head slightly to kiss him gently. "It's wonderful to wake up in bed with you. I've never woken up in bed with a man before, and I must say, I've never wanted to do such a thing before you."
Patrick smiled back at her. Sometimes being reminded that he was the only man she'd had a romantic relationship in her adult life was a bit disconcerting. He was very special, he knew, that she had given up her whole life for them to now finally be together, and he would have done anything to make that so. But though he'd loved Shelagh for years and years, the fact still remained that he'd had a relatively normal experience courting women in his youth, and he'd fallen in love before with his dear wife. They'd had a life and a child together, and he had held her in his arms when she died. It was so long ago now, a whole different life, but the fact remained that he'd had that experience of romance and marriage and raising a child, and Shelagh had never had any of it. She had lost her virginity to a boy who had proposed marriage to her—a fact that actually comforted him, if he was honest; being her very first would have been far too much pressure—but her lack of experience did sometimes give him pause. He did not want her to ever feel as though she were lacking, and he did not ever want to push her in any way. And now, having her in his bed was quite a risky thing. Still, Patrick wanted to indulge in the luxury of this beautiful moment.
Her hand gently traced over his, up his fingers and the back of his hand to the coarse hair on his forearm. In response, he pulled her closer, her back flush against his chest. His body curled around her as her bum settled right into the curve of his hips. Patrick began softly kissing her neck and brushing her hair out of his way. Shelagh sighed happily in response.
But the more he kissed her, nipped at her soft skin and soothed with his tongue, the more she seemed to enjoy it. She rocked against him, arching her body to more contact with his. It had been this way that first time she'd taken off her wimple and straddled his lap on the sofa, the way her body reacted to his efforts. She drove him absolutely wild. The way she was rubbing her body against him was going to cause a physical reaction to his arousal quite soon, and with just his thin silk pajama bottoms, that was going to be very awkward very quickly.
And yet he could not seem to stop. The little gasps that escaped her and the way she moaned his name spurred him onward. His hand slid up her body to cup her breast through the nightgown. She whimpered when his palm brushed the fabric over her tightly furled nipple.
But then Shelagh stopped him. "Patrick," she said, slightly breathlessly. She took his hand and removed it from her body and moved away from him.
"God, I'm sorry, Shelagh," he said, rolling away from him. He could have cursed himself, ruining their nice moment by going too far. He should have had better control than this, particularly at his age! Patrick felt almost sick to his stomach.
Shelagh sat up in bed but did not run out of the room as he expected. She turned toward him sidling up to where he lay on his back. Patrick shut his eyes in shame. He felt her shift slightly on the bed, but he remained where he was, not wanting to ruin anything further. "Please don't apologize, Patrick," she chided. "I didn't want you to stop. I only needed to readjust."
He did not know what she meant by that, so he tentatively opened his eyes. And then he understood. Shelagh had sat up and pulled her pretty nightgown up over her head and tossed it aside. And she now lay half on top of him in bed with her bare breasts pressed to his chest. Any feeling of arousal he'd lost from the slight interruption and misunderstanding was back now with the expanse of her exposed skin on display.
She had her hands just above his thundering heart and rested her chin on top of them. "Is this alright?" she whispered.
"Is it?" he asked in response. He did not quite know what to say. She was…god, she was so beautiful and he wanted her so much he could hardly see straight. Probably a side effect of the speed at which the blood from his brain had rushed to his groin. "Shelagh, we don't have to…" he warned. If she did not want him to make love to her, he needed her to tell him now. His resolve was weakening by the second.
Shelagh smiled. "I love you, Patrick," she said. "And I think now is the perfect time for you to make love to me. If you would like to."
"Yes," he choked. "I…very much."
She laughed, but the lovely sound was cut off by his lips on hers. Like a drowning man finding air to breathe, Patrick kissed Shelagh with so much want and need that it almost scared him. He loved her so much, it was overwhelming. She had been lost to him for so long, and they had endured so much to reach this moment. He loved her and she loved him, and he wanted her with a ferocity he'd never before known.
"Patrick," she moaned softly as his hands mapped the curves of her bare body and his lips moved to trail more ardent kisses down her neck.
"Shelagh, my darling Shelagh," he murmured into her skin.
She reached between them, beneath where her own body lay atop him and began to undress him with trembling hands, undoing each button on his pajamas. The suspense was more than he could take. Patrick rolled them over so that he could sit up and throw off the shirt.
Her blue eyes, unobstructed by her glasses in this rare early morning moment, raked over his bare torso. Patrick knew he was not much to look at, particularly not at his age. His muscles had long gone soft, his belly had grown, and his skin was starting to hang loosely over his wiry frame. But she looked at him with such sparkling appreciation and even arousal that Patrick felt at least ten years younger.
When she'd finished staring at him, her eyes flicked up to his face. He was smiling. Patrick leaned in to kiss her again. When he pulled back again, he was delighted to see her lips swollen from his kisses. Her pale, beautiful neck was red and blotchy from his earlier attentions. Patrick slid one large hand down her neck, pausing to gently massage her breast, and down to her flat stomach and to her thigh. Shelagh shifted and spread her legs for him. She pulled him back down to kiss her, whispering his name onto his lips.
His hand remained on her thigh, dipping between her legs but not yet touching her where her knickers still covered her otherwise naked body. Now, more than ever in his life, Patrick needed to be patient. There was still time to turn back, though it would likely kill him to stop now.
Shelagh writhed beneath his touch, silently begging him. But he would not trust her body to speak for her, not yet. "Are you sure?" he asked, pausing all ministrations to be certain.
She nodded. And for good measure, she shifted herself and pulled her own knickers off, throwing them off the bed to join the growing pile of their nightclothes on the floor.
Patrick grinned. He certainly could not deny her. She was hot and wet already as he traced her folds with his fingers. He himself whimpered at that. The way they'd kissed, the way he'd touched her, she had already become so aroused. She wanted him. Never in his life did he believe that she would ever truly want him, particularly like this.
He let his hand lazily slid his fingers between her legs and exploring her most sensitive places. He kissed her again and trailed his kisses down to her breasts. Small and dotted with pale freckles in a few places. Her skin was starting to show her age, becoming thin and delicate. Patrick did not mind. If she were too youthful, he'd have feel terribly uncomfortable with their entire relationship. His hair was entirely gray and on the verge of going white. The wrinkles all over his body were growing deeper by the day. And now he knew that his Shelagh had dusky pink nipples and freckles on the sides of her breasts and she shuddered and cried out his name when he swirled his tongue over them.
As his teeth grazed over one pert nipple, he slipped one finger inside her. Shelagh whimpered and dug her fingernails into his scalp in the most delicious way. Patrick took his time before adding a second finger to curl inside her. The thrust faster and deeper, finding the rhythm that would please her most. When he felt her flutter around his hand, he pulled away from her so he could watch as she came for him the first time. She gasped and trembled and moaned his name, and Patrick had never seen anything more erotically beautiful in all his life.
Shelagh fell back on the bed to catch her breath. Patrick slowed his hand and stilled, watching her blink her eyes and look at him. She grinned and gave a breathy laugh.
"You are so beautiful, Shelagh. I could have never guessed how beautiful you'd be, full of passion like that," he told her.
"That was incredible," she said breathily. "Thank you."
He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "Thank you," he replied.
Then, a slightly naughty smirk curled over her lips. Patrick had never dreamed she could look so cheeky, though he should have expected this boldness, this fallen nun of his. Shelagh gazed up at him with dark eyes and reached out to push his pajama bottoms off his hips.
Patrick had to get off her to take off the rest of his things. His erection sprang forth, and he climbed back into bed with her. Shelagh spread her legs to take him into the cradle of her thighs, bending her knees to welcome him between them. Patrick watched her, looking for any sign of hesitation or nervousness. Finding none, he lined himself up at her dripping entrance and slowly, slowly pressed inside her. She moaned and arched her back, adjusting to his length and saving the feeling of him filling her, just as he savored the feeling of being nestled inside her like this. He did not know if she was acting on instinct or memory from her experiences before, but Patrick did not worry. They were together now, the two of them finally fulfilling this last act of tearing down those barriers that had remained between them.
He made love to her at a steady pace, wanting to memorize every moment of being with Shelagh this first time. The first of many, many times for the rest of their lives. Every movement of her body, every line and curve. Every little sound that escaped her while she rocked in time to his thrusts. And all the while, his eyes stayed locked onto hers. He was lost in the dark pupils of her bright blue eyes. The sunlight growing in the room made her gaze sparkling and full of magic.
It was that glorious sight that he knew he would never forget as long as he lived. As they reached their climax together, they continued to stare into each other's eyes. All the love and heartache that had led them to this place, to this moment, seemed to make the moment an eternity.
"I love you," he whispered, trying to keep himself suspended above her as long as he could.
She reached up to brush his hair off his sweaty face. "I love you," she replied.
His arms shook and faltered. Shelagh held him close, her arms and legs wrapped around his body and keeping him with her, and Patrick felt his thundering heart echo in his ears as his face pressed into her beautiful golden hair.