Devotion

Anna stood at the nurses' station as Mac cleared Maxie's room, making sure Peter wouldn't return, calling in the PCPD to guarantee his absence.

Standing away from the scene, resigned to watch, she felt completely alienated from those she loved. Everyone was mad at her, justifiably, she thought. She blew up her wedding. She blew up Maxie's wedding, but she knew it was ultimately for the best. She had to protect her nearest and dearest from Peter August and the legacy of Cesar Faison and, unfortunately, that meant sacrificing this most special day. It meant hurting so many of the people she loved most.

She checked her phone, hoping for a message or call from Finn, but there were no notifications. She'd texted and called him several times but he hadn't responded. Equal parts worried and hurt, she wished he would allow her to explain everything to him and was frustrated at his silence.

Valentin came up behind her, placing a concerned hand on her shoulder.

"Can I give you a ride home?"
"I drove," Anna said, focused on Mac and the activity around Maxie's room.
"I know, but you seem a little distracted. I don't want you driving like this."
"I'm fine," she protested.
"You're not," he observed.
"Fine." she said, followed by a long pause, "But not home. I don't want to be in that big empty house. It's all too fresh, the bed still smells like him... and I don't have the energy to change it," she said, feigning strength as tears welled in her eyes.
"Come to the Metro Court. My suite has two rooms and Charlotte's away on a school trip, you can sleep in hers. I have a 25 year old bottle of scotch that shouldn't be enjoyed alone. I was saving it for better times, but, with things as they are right now, that might be another 25 years."
"Valentin…"
"Look. If anyone knows what helps after a failed wedding, it's me, and, trust me, scotch helps."

Anna managed a faint smile, melting slightly into his shoulder, accepting his support as he led her to the elevator, then to the parking garage.

They walked silently to his car, his arm around her shoulder, a million thoughts flying through his head, but nothing seemed right to say. He wanted to be there for her, to support her and be a good friend, now that they were friends, but he couldn't help being distracted by her warmth, her perfume, the feeling of her body resting on his. When they reached his car he unlocked it with a beep, opening the passenger door. Then walked around and settled himself into the driver's seat.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked, with a slight smile, trying to make her feel better.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," she said, gazing out the window at the grey parking garage.

He figured the drive would be quiet, so he wanted music to fill the uneasy silence, but what to play? It couldn't be too happy, but too maudlin was also a problem. Then his mind settled on a solution, David Bowie, he remembered her loving him, it's why he loved him, so he started "Hunky Dory" playing, "Changes" tinkling through the speakers.

She was quiet until the familiar strains of "Oh! You Pretty Things" started playing and she chuckled wistfully.

"Do you remember the first time you heard this?"
"Yes, of course, but I'm surprised you do…" he said, glancing over.
"It's weird. I can't explain it, I mean with the brainwashing and hypnosis, memory mapping and transfers, all of the head traumas and years of amnesia, I swear my mind is more Swiss cheese than brain, but sometimes, at the most unexpected times, those holes just fill in, randomly, and I remember." she said, a wash of nostalgia on her face, the music and the company reconnecting long severed links. "You'd just finished tutoring me… Latin and the Romance languages, and Russian, ugh, I hated Russian… and... we were drinking mint tea, and… I was telling you how this was my favorite album and you said you'd never heard it, that you didn't listen to 'popular music. Oh!" she said with a laugh, "You sounded like such a snob!"
"What can I say, I preferred the classics," he said looking over with a grin.
"Snob," she said with that signature Devane smile, "So I ran upstairs and grabbed my album and I put it on and turned it all the way up so that it all just washed over us. You were sitting in that big green velvet armchair, so serious and grumpy," she laughed, "You were so grumpy! Oh God, I can't believe I remember this, it was like you softened when this song started, and by the time 'Life On Mars' was over, you looked like you discovered gold."
"You changed my mind," he conceded, "but at that time of my life I would have listened to an hour of wolves howling just to spend an hour with you." he said, knowing he still would, "I remember you sitting so close to the speaker, I thought you'd climb inside."
"I would have, if I could. I wanted to be this album," she sighed.
"You were so beautiful… you still are…" he said, trailing off, wishing he'd kept that last thought to himself.
"Bowie brings it out of me…" she said, quietly, with a slight shrug.
"It isn't just Bowie…" he whispered.

She sighed, lost in new found memories.

"Sean was so annoyed. He never got my music, he just thought it was noise," she said with a wistful laugh, "God I miss him… Oh! I remember more!" she said, reveling in her moment of discovery, "We listened to Elton John next and when we studied again, a few days later, you'd learned 'Tiny Dancer' for me… Oh God," she gasped with sudden realization, "Your hands... it must have hurt so much."
"It did. But I would have done anything for you back then."
"Just back then?" she asked quietly, a whisper's whisper, as she cast a furtive glance towards Valentine, "I'm sorry I've forgotten so much of our past, these last few decades have been… a lot…"
"It's a wonder you're as strong as you are, with all you've been through," Valentin said kindly.
"A lot of that's training, I suppose... we were taught to persevere."
"I received that same training…" he said, trailing off, thinking about all of the ways Anna was better than him.
"You've persevered… you're thriving." Anna said, looking at him.
"Yeah, but look at the wreckage I've left in my wake, so much hurt from such petty vengeance."

He could be talking about so many moments from his past, but she knew he was talking specifically about delivering Peter to Faison's less than loving arms.

"There's no point in dwelling on the pain we caused each other, accidental or intentional… As for Peter… I don't have any blame left. I find it hard to blame you, or Alex… or Faison even. I've lived a long life, especially for someone in our line of work, and I've seen people who've started out worse come out better. Peter's chosen to be the man he is today. It's neither nature nor nurture but a selfish sociopathy that drives him. It's not your fault, and, contrary to the beliefs of most of Port Charles, it's not my fault either… but it is a problem that we have to solve… and soon."

Valentin nodded silently. Accepting her forgiveness, but knowing that Peter was indeed his fault and his mess to clean up.

They pulled up to the Metro Court and Anna's eyes widened with worry.

"Oh God! Valet! We can't! We can't go through the lobby!" she exclaimed, "Not because I'm with you," she said, noticing the hurt on Valentin's face, "I don't care what people think about the company I keep, I just… everyone is going to know… they'll all know about the wedding and the fallout… they'll all be talking and staring… and the condolences… I can't take people telling me how sorry they are for me."
"And you might run into Finn when you're with me," he pointed out.
"Oh God, yeah. And that," she said with an exhausted sigh.
"It's okay. We can self park and bypass the lobby."
"Thank you," she said with relief.

He smiled, driving past the valet stand to the garage.

After parking, he moved to help her out of the car, but she remained seated, biting her lower lip, staring desperately into his eyes, the cool facade she'd applied for the mission completely gone. Her hands fidgeting in her lap, eyes darting around as she began to breathe heavily.

"What if we're still seen?" she asked, her brows furrowed in worry.
"Wait here," he said, making his way to the trunk, returning with a black hooded sweatshirt, "Put this on."
"Do you keep this around for the odd B&E?" she quipped.
"I wore it to the gym the other day, you know my breaking and entering days are behind me," he said with a smile.

She slid on the hoodie, then his coat, enveloped in Valentin's warm sandalwood scent.

"How do I look?" she asked, swimming in fabric.
"A little like the Unabomber... but with better legs."
Anna's laugh echoed in the quiet garage, "It'll have to do, I guess."

He summoned the elevator and, when they entered, she hid behind him, pressed so close he felt her heat. Her hands just above his waist, her cheek resting softly against his back. Valentin tried to be cool, taking deep breaths, focusing on helping her, but having her so close was intoxicating. He had to use everything in his arsenal to stay focused. They rode silently, pressed together, like pages in a book, until the door opened with a ding that made Anna jump.

He moved first, checking the hall, motioning back to let her know it was clear. Unexpectedly she grabbed his hand, squeezing hard, her fingers cool. He moved fast, quickly leading her to his suite.

A click of the keycard and they were hidden away from Port Charles' prying eyes.

Valentin threw down his card and keys, removing his tie.

"How about that drink?" he asked with caring eyes, loosening his top button.
"Yes. Please," Anna sighed.
"I hate to do this, but I'll need both hands," he said, indicating the hand she still held tightly.
"Oh, God!" she exclaimed, suddenly dropping his hand, unaware she'd been holding it, "I'm so sorry..."
"Don't be. If I could manage one handed I would."

She smiled with a blush. Even after all of these years, she was so lovely when she blushed.

Valentin removed his jacket and crossed to the white lacquer armoire retrieving two glasses and his treasured bottle of scotch, as she peeled off the oversized coat and sweater. The room felt cool without her wool and cotton cocoon and she shivered slightly. He opened the bottle with the crack of a seal and poured two fingers in the first glass. His phone buzzed before he could pour the second. He checked the screen, Nina.

"You can get that if you want," she said.
"It's not important," he replied, sending the call to voicemail as he returned to pouring.
"To perseverance." he said, handing her a glass.
"Perseverance," she replied, raising her glass slightly before finishing it in one shot, she blushed, "I promise to savor the next one."

He finished his drink quickly, to catch up, and poured another two fingers for each of them.

"I'll get Charlotte's room ready. I apologize ahead of time if there are any hidden unicorns in the bed. I'll do my best to corral them," he said with a smile as he headed out of the room.

Anna stood alone, sipping Valentin's exquisite scotch. It really was lovely, smokey and warm, she drank again, emptying the glass, filling and emptying it once more. She felt her cheeks flush. He was right, scotch helped. Thinking back on the day, she ached, the failures and heartbreaks, how it all seemed to almost work, until it didn't. Finn's face before the wedding, telling her he'd marry her anywhere, the last kiss on Violet's cheek, the last nuzzle… perhaps their last closeness ever. Her heart clenched then started to beat faster, her skin warmed, breath shortened. The beautiful dress she'd so carefully chosen now felt like a straight jacket, squeezing out her life, her soul. The only way for her to survive was to break out. She reached behind, desperate to free herself from the fabric's overwhelming embrace. Pulling the zipper with such force she heard a rip, but kept pulling, needing release. Silk crepe puddled around her feet and she was able to breathe again. Her heart slowed. The cool air against her skin bringing her back to reality.

"The unicorns are all in their stables... I put a t-shirt on the bed for you to..." Valentin called out as he came back to the room, "Oh. Wow." he said, dropping his drink, as he walked in on Anna in lingerie and heels, his eyes unable to look away, "I, um…"
"You dropped your drink."
"You dropped your dress."
"Yeah... I was feeling warm… couldn't breathe..." Anna said in short quick starts, "I… oh…" she sighed looking down, then up staring at Valentin, her eyes daring him to make eye contact.

"I'll get you a robe… and water…" Valentin said as he rushed off to the bedroom.
"I don't want water. I want scotch. You promised me scotch not water," Anna called out, that third glass going to her head.
"I think you've had enough scotch, Anna," he said, coming back with a thick terry cloth robe and a bottle of water.

Valentin stood behind her, placing the robe on her shoulders.

"Here, drink this," he said, opening the bottle and offering it to her.
"Fine…" she said begrudgingly as she sipped.

He picked up her dress, smoothing out the wrinkles, placing it on a chair, his hands shaking as his mind filled with the vision of her in straps and lace. She closed the robe and poured scotch into her glass, handing it to him.

"You look like you could use this."

It was his turn to finish his glass in one.

"Thanks," he said, the alcohol soothing his nerves.

She moved closer, leaning in, looking up with big brown eyes. Before he realized it her lips were on his, her tongue working its way into his mouth, stroking, caressing, coaxing him to life. He should have stopped her, but instinct and a thousand fantasies took over where reason should reside and he leaned into her kiss, returning it with equal passion. His hands moved before his brain engaged, untying her robe, exploring flesh he'd only imagined. She pushed him back, stumbling over the coffee table, before he landed on the couch. Climbing on top of him, his breath catching as she straddled him.

"Anna, I… I don't… I don't think… I don't think this is a good idea…" he stammered, fighting every visceral urge.
"I think it is," she breathed into his neck, smelling of scotch and orchids.
"I don't want you to regret being with me," he said as her fingers worked the studs of his shirt, her lips caressed his jugular. He felt his whole body shiver.
"I won't," she insisted, taking the soft flesh of his earlobe into her mouth.

Reluctantly he pulled her back, staring into giant soulful eyes.

"Anna…"
"You've always loved me, haven't you Valentin?" she asked, running her fingers through his hair.
"Unhealthily so, yes… no different from Faison, really…" he said, unable to make eye contact.
"Don't say that." she said, taking his face and forcing him to look at her.
"It's true. We both know it," he said, shame in his eyes.
"You've become a better man. Cesar could never, he never tried. I credit Nina, as much as it pains me, Charlotte too… you're not quite as mercenary as you once were."
"I still have that in me," he said, fingers on the collar of her robe.
"The old you wouldn't try to talk me out of sleeping with him," she replied with a caress.
"Is it working?"

She shook her head.

"Not at all."

She moved closer, her robe sliding down her shoulders to the floor as she resumed her kissing, exploring, undressing. Grinding against his growing urge, kissing his lips, his neck, and jaw.

He sighed in acceptance.

She smiled, big and broad, and took his hands, kissing his fingers and palms, removing his cufflinks, placing one hand, then the other against her collarbone, allowing them to travel down her chest, her stomach, and thighs. His fingers dipping beneath the lace of her bra, running along the crisscross of white straps framing her ass. As his hands roamed her body, she took control, lacing her fingers through his hair, guiding his mouth to her neck and chest, her head falling back with a sigh as his lips moved over lace. She reached behind, undoing the clasp of her bra allowing him free access to the tender flesh of her breasts, his lips eagerly exploring.

"Anna, do you know how long I've wanted this?" he said, his voice gruff with want.
"Yes," she whispered, bringing his head up to her lips, kissing him deeply.

He stood, taking her with him, one arm around her back the other supporting her behind as she gasped at the sudden show of strength.

"Valentin," she said in shock, wrapping her arms around him.

Lifting her, he stepped past the fallen robe and furniture on his way to the bedroom. Her legs wrapped around him, shoes falling one, then the other with two thuds as he carried her off.

He set her down, surprised at how small she was, realizing it'd been years since he'd seen her in anything less than 4 inch heels. He sighed. She looked up at him, smiling, unbuttoning the final buttons on his shirt, moving to his belt, button, and zipper. Her hands pushing fabric to the ground.

"Mmmmm," she sighed, smiling as she climbed on the bed.

Valentin came to her, kissing her softly, gazing with wonder into her eyes, still not certain this wasn't an elaborate dream. He kissed down her neck, his lips and fingers lingering on her collarbone. She sighed as he made his way down her body, worshiping her breasts, soft butterfly kisses down her abdomen and thighs, pulling down straps, kissing as he moved down her legs, removing the last piece of fabric separating them. He placed soft kisses on the instep of each foot, then moved up, kissing along each calf and thigh until he reached the junction of her legs and body. He took in her scent, sweet musk and floral, inviting kisses, caresses.

"Yes." she sighed as she opened for him.

His breath stuttered at the wonder of her. He kissed dusky pink lips, taking her in, his tongue deft in it's movements. She gasped, her body responding, curving, moving with his rhythm. Grabbing his hair, guiding her pleasure.

"Valentin," she moaned, her body quaking at his mouth's touch.

He moved above her, touching with feather soft fingers and kisses as if she'd drift away or turn to dust if he pressed too hard. An ethereal spirit, a goddess, and he, a mere mortal.

"Valentin," she said, her voice low, gazing softly into his eyes, her hand running along his jaw, "I'm not porcelain, I won't break."

She shifted him to his back, kissing him slow and long, hovering over him, her hand moving down, stroking his length, teasing, "Let me show you," she growled into his ear as she lowered herself onto him, gasping, accepting him.

"Oh."

She moved slowly at first, rocking against him, increasing her tempo, pushing him deeper into her, encouraging his movement beneath her. Grinding harder, grabbing his hands to touch her, grasp her, proving that she was indeed here and real and wanting.

Her head fell back with a passionate sigh as she pressed against him, her body seized, then pulsed against him. A loud stuttering cry coming from her beautiful throat.

She looked so glorious.

He embraced her, flipping her back, thrusting deeper as her body still reverberated with her orgasm. Her legs wrapped around him, one around his waist, the other at his shoulder, her arms encircled him, the exquisite pain of nails in his back. He thrust harder, deeper, wanting to become one with the woman below him. Coming hard as she eagerly accepted him. His goddess made manifest, better than any fantasy, real and wanting. Wanting more. His release, exquisite. Her body shuttered beneath him. Her voice cried out in ecstasy as she came once more.

They collapsed into each other, Anna's head resting on his chest.

"Thank you," she sighed, as she curled herself into him, her legs wrapping around him.
"No regrets?" he asked, a tinge of worry in his voice.
"Not a one," she said with a comforting smile, "You were wonderful… perfect," she said as she traced circles on his chest.

He smiled, reveling in the warmth of the woman at his side, heady with the scent of her, but unable to shake their shared past. Staring at the ceiling, his mind traveling back decades, wishing he could rewrite history.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, staring up at him with understanding eyes.
"I just wish I could go back… change what I did… not follow Alex that night in Piccadilly, thinking it was you…" he said wistfully.
"It was me," she said matter-of-factly.
"What?"
"It was me. I didn't realize it, at first, when I began to remember, but, that girl you followed with the heels, and the plunge, and the blonde wig... I don't know why I insisted on being a blonde… anyway, that was me, In Cookham, seducing Faison…I don't know when Alex was with him. That night he'd drank so much, I don't think he could have managed, even if he wanted to, but I made sure he couldn't just in case. I guess, like any good lie, they married the memory of Peter's birth to something true to make it seem more real. Little did they know they had you as an eye witness."

"I'm so sorry," he said mournfully, decades of guilt and regret washing over him.

"I know, I forgive you," she sighed, "I don't want to talk about the past. I'm in your arms now."
"And it's better than I'd ever imagined," he said, gently stroking her cheek.
"Well, I'm older, not as flexible as I used to be," she demurred.
"Wait… you used to be MORE flexible!? I'm suddenly very jealous of Robert Scorpio!" he said, barely containing his laughter.

She giggled, an almost girlish laugh, "Valentin!" as she curled herself further into him, wrapping her arms and legs about him, coaxing him, becoming one once more.

They sighed into each other's arms, knowing what the other needed at this very moment. Moving, caressing, fulfilling each other's desires. Collapsing together, satisfied, content.

She slept soundly, her breath calm as the peaceful sea. He wasn't certain how, but he knew he had to keep her here, like this, with him, for as long as possible. His Anna. In his arms. Forever.