"Jane! will you hear reason?" (he stooped and approached his lips to my ear); "because, if you won't, I'll try violence."

—Jane Eyre, chapter 27

The fire burned hotly in the room; it was but background to the heat and rage burning in my soul.

It was night—wretched night!—and the room was cast in darkness. Her face appeared as just flickering shadows. Their shape was indiscernible, yet nebulous impressions of coldness, mockery, rejection, morphed among them.

Jane's ice was such a painful contrast to my fire.

I blazed a trail across the room to the witch. Witch she was, for she had charmed my heart, taken control over it; and to use the power such?

I gripped her arm, Jane gasped—and damn myself for it was a lovely thing—and made to twist away; I fisted my other hand at her waist to secure her. I shook Jane as if I could shake the Jane I loved out of this frigid, stranger's exterior.

"Never—never was anything at once so frail and indomitable," I breathed through clenched teeth. "A mere reed she feels in my hand."

Now my arms simply trembled. Jane could have escaped my embrace easily, yet she only looked up at me with sad, resolute eyes.

Deuce take me if I had to be subjected to their expression a second longer.

Provoked, my hands traveled up to the pale column of her neck.

And so my problem was remedied, for now—fear flashed through the eyes.

"I could bend her with my finger and thumb..." Jane's skin was so soft, so pliable.

"Mr. Rochester..." she whimpered. I squeezed slightly, and her face shot up.

It was then I realized how close it was to mine. I had pressed in, completely surrounded her in my anger. I felt shame for a moment. Am I to be a threat to my little Janet, then?

I brushed the pad of my thumb against her throat; I stared intensely as it moved under my fingers in a swallow.

I shook my head and focused back to her face.

...and, illuminated by the firelight, I noticed on her cheeks the signs of a blush.

Another, different burning began lower in my body.

I will make her burn like I am burning.

Slowly, I lowered my face closer to that rosy blush. Jane must have read the intent in my eyes, for as she had done earlier, she turned her head away. My lips brushed the underside of her jaw.

I nipped the vulnerable skin there in an admonishment. Jane pushed against my chest with a squeal.

This time, however, I tightened my hold on her neck. She went still as death—for my hands completely encircled her.

"Jane, Jane," I chuckled cynically, "will you not be convinced? Will you persist in your willful destruction of my heart?"

"Sir," she replied, and I saw it took her great courage to go on, "I say it again; you will but forget about me in a fortnight."

I kissed her to silence her. My choler, until now simply simmering, boiled within me.

I mauled her sweet, stubborn lips; it was markedly different from how we had ever kissed before.

I flicked out my tongue, and when it met clenched teeth, I bit Jane's lower lip. She opened her mouth in a gasp, and I drank it in like poisoned wine

"I have thus been showing you my love with words." I shoved her small form until her back hit the back of the couch. "I shall have to persuade you through actions."

"No, sir—" I cut off her dissent with a slap of my hand over her mouth.

I was not prepared for her to bite me.

I jerked back and noted with wry amusement the expression of righteous anger on my elfin's face.

"Jane, Jane, you are a delightfully spirited thing," I huffed, stealthily using one hand to pull my cravat off.

"You are not in the right mind, Mr. Rochester! What you are doing is wrong—"

"Wrong!" I pinned her against the back of the couch with my body and swiftly tied the piece of cloth I had freed against her mouth, still open mid-speech. "I will show you the rightest, most beautiful act God has allowed mortals to experience on earth."

Her response was muffled.

By now, my loins were beginning to fully stir. I ground into her soft body and hardened further.

"Do you feel that, Jane? My love for you? You cannot deny it!" I rutted more violently, clutching at her shoulders. A man could peak just like this!

I grasped haphazardly for the back opening of her dress, despite her struggles. She could not escape; I would not let her escape me.

"Open your eyes!" I shouted as I pulled her layers of dress down to pool at her feet. Her eyes were shut close, tears leaking from their corners. "I will open your eyes."

Jane had evidently forgone some of the normal underthings while dressing. All that was left was a thin chemise, through which I could see her pebbled nipples. A fresh wave of arousal greeted me at this vision.

She was no longer struggling; she simply shook her head now.

My eyes flashed in challenge, anger, lust. I will make her burn like I am burning.

I attacked her neck with my mouth, devouring like a man whom a luscious meal was placed in front of.

From the base of her neck, I licked up to under her ear and delighted in the shiver that resulted. I prayed it was not a shiver of fear.

I traveled back south, reaching her bare shoulder, which the chemise had shifted to expose. Such delicacy, such youthful, unblemished skin—I bit into it. The sound Jane made could have been a sob or a moan.

I was feverish: I had done more than I imagined. I imagined doing so much more.

This should have been your wedding night, Rochester.

"Stolen," I snarled aloud, "snatched away so swiftly—how quickly I lose what was mine."

Jane grasped my arms as I pushed her back over the couch. Our chests met flush and Jane's feet lifted partially from the floor.

I grabbed the back of her knees to balance her, and I did not stop myself when my touch continued to trail upwards. Her chemise moved up her thighs along with my hands, exposing more of her skin.

I stopped just as I went over her hips. Little Janet's legs had crossed in a charade of modesty, but there was no hiding that my clothed cock was settled right under her bare privates. I was momentarily stunned, reeling in sensation.

None of my paid women had aroused half as much feeling in me with much more sordid acts.

I knew with certainty then that I would have Jane tonight.

I tipped her over and onto the couch, and she landed on the cushions with her head. Her clothing slid down, revealing her entire body, but I was too occupied with moving around the couch and unbuttoning my trousers to properly savor the sight.

Jane had not yet righted herself when I dragged her slip off her completely. She had nowhere to hide from my eyes.

Yet she still persisted in curling up into a ball to cover herself. It was no impediment; I would draw her out yet.

"Mph—Mifer. Rochester!" Jane gave a muffled yelp through her gag.

For at that moment I had shoved two of my fingers into her exposed nether lips.

That had the immediate effect of uncurling her. My innocent little Jane had never felt such a sensation before, had she?

I kneeled on her legs and held both of her wrists in one of my hands, thereby pinning her to the couch. With the other hand, I continued to finger her vigorously. I crooked my fingers in ways I had learned pleased my previous mistresses. I wanted to see Jane react so. Her naked, flushed body was completely at the mercy of my gaze and touch.

And my body...was almost as much at the mercy of her charms. Every one of her noises sent a jolt straight to my groin. I could not remove my eyes from her smooth, pale skin even if I had the wish.

I asked God to forgive me even as I violated His law. I withdrew my hand from Jane's limp wrists and brought it to my aching member.

At just the first touch I had to stifle a moan. My rhythm faltered, and Jane, curious little sprite, opened her eyes.

The physical evidence of my lust sat bare before her gaze. Had she ever seen one before? No, surely not so closely. Else she would not be staring at it so wide-eyed.

The tip glistened with a bead of precum. Jane watched with avid eyes as my movement caused a single drop to fall down onto her stomach.

I could have decorated her entire stomach such. I stopped moving and turned my burning face into the cool couch cushion. I removed my sticky fingers from Jane and was heartened to find moisture on them.

I breathed in to catch my breath—and was nonplussed to find myself on the floor the next moment.

The sprite had kicked me off!

I stood up and found her in the act of climbing over the side of the couch. Her pert bottom pointed up in the air.

I grabbed her waist, and she stopped trying to move.

My cock lay directly on her privates, yet it yearned to only be even closer.

"Do not run, my innocent angel. I want to show you desire," I panted, "desire, purest ecstasy."

Muffled words came in response to my statement. I leaned over and undid the knot with my teeth, keeping a firm hold on my love.

"I don't want to feel more," she cried immediately. "I'm afraid of what I've felt, please no more—"

I entered her in one swift move. Even after my fingering, she was so tight.

Jane screamed a second, then choked in a gasping breath.

Everything was so warm. The fire in my chest burned at the hottest it had ever, and it seemed to me it would only grow brighter.

I was paralyzed within her: I was apprehensive of peaking too quickly, of hurting my virgin Jane, of blazing so fast that only ash was left behind.

I shifted my hips slightly, keeping deeply buried in her. I wished to bury deeper, hide myself entirely inside her until we merged and became one.

I rocked faster, drawing my rigid member further out and in of her. Oh Jane, that we would exist forever as one creature, unable to be rent asunder.

I leaned down and brushed my fingertips over the peak on her breast. She reacted with a full-body flinch.

"What are you doing to me?" she asked shudderingly.

"This is sex" I whispered, reveling in the crassness of the word, "Jane."

And I knew she found it a pleasurable act, for I could feel her flooding with lust, straining with repressed passion.

Delighting in the way she moaned between her teeth, I pistoned more roughly into her. She gasped and let out an unrestrained one.

"Jane..." I moaned myself. I was reaching the end of my intelligence—by now I was wildly rutting into her with no reserve.

With the last shreds of my cognizance, I reached down to her secret bud; I flicked.

"Mr. Rochester," Jane moaned for the first time in return. "Mr. Rochester, Mr—"

"My name!" I gasped between thrusts. "Say my name!"

"Edward, ngh, I don't know...I don't..."

I grew delirious with knowledge of what was finally happening. "Come for me, Jane."

I pushed in once, twice, more. Her entire body seized up.

"Edward!" The contractions of her orgasm around my arousal brought me to my own peak.

The last thing I saw before closing my eyes was her flushed, heartbroken face.

When I opened them, I was laying alone in my bed.

The late summer's moonlight shone through the window onto my face, and it illuminated the tears staining my cheeks.

"Unclean! Unclean!" the harrowing moan escaped me, like the lepers of the Bible: yearning for a better society, yet knowing they were unworthy.

Jane was out of my reach, but tonight she had felt so close...

She had not been close to me for months. She might be dead.

I roused from my bed, frustrated by the unjustness of the situation. She had said I would forget about her. I was still damnably in love with her. I deserved to have my darling Janet by my side. If not as my wife, then as my best earthly companion, my likeness and equal! A much higher title than mere wife; for what was my wife to me?

I looked out the window and shivered. Nothing. She was nothing, yet she cost me everything. Some days I wished I would simply...

Would I do anything for Jane to be mine right now? What use was touch if not to caress my love? What use was sight if I was never to see Jane?

The phantom sensation of burning licked around my forearms, and a queer foreboding filled me.

Be careful what you wish for.

Go to sleep Rochester...I went back to bed, embittered and yearning and tired.

A/N: Jane Eyre is my favorite book; I love it dearly. All recognizable quotes belong to it.

I had intended this to be more emotion-oriented, like a closer look into the psych of Rochester at this point of his life. But then I got to the smut and—heh.
You have no idea how distracting that was to write.
Actually, it was fairly difficult writing smut without excessively using crass words. Just would have felt too wrong with Jane Eyre characters, you know?

Thank you for reading! I myself love reading comments ;)