A/N: finally completed. The rating at gone up for a non-explicit adult scene. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed. I'll no doubt revise it at some point.
"The final painting." She murmured the words against his chest.
"The final painting." He agreed.
His right arm loosened from around her and he raised his hand, sifting through her hair.
She raised her head from where it rested against his chest, turning to look at him as the gloves fingers stroked through the dark locks. She took in the measured look in his eyes, eyes that looked only at her, raking over her features in a way that could be assessing, threatening, but now she saw was only unyielding interest. The silvery blonde hair that fell smoothly around his shoulders, a silken curtain. He was everything she'd ever seen in her dreams but he was real, and he loved her. Loved her beyond insipid promises and patronising chivalry.
"Not yet." She whispered. She saw his eyes darkens as she reached up to lay her lips ever so softly against his. She rested them there for a moment, breathing him in, before parting slightly to dart her tongue out, flicking it over his closed mouth in a coaxing manner. He immediately capitulated and she kissed him. Slowly, softly then harder, more pressure. He responded in kind, teasing with his tongue, kissing her deeply. She pushed her body into his, wanting to sink into him. He tensed and grasped her to him, his mouth becoming more demanding as he kissed her with increasing intensity. She could feel the pressure building, could feel his barely held restraint. And yet holding it he was.
He broke the kiss, keeping his hold on her, his grip unrelenting but gentle. He dipped his head and kissed her again. Once, softly.
And she understood then. That he would be a fierce, overwhelming lover. But he would also take care, be gentle when she needed it.
"I want to lay you under the stars."
Her mouth went dry and she could only nod.
He had her off the ground, carried against his chest in an instant. As though she weighed little more than a feather. He carried her off the gravel path, away from the garden lights and into the trees.
He stopped at a cleared patch of ground between the trees. Moonlight was breaking through the clouds in the sky, bathing the scene in silvery light.
He gently put her down and drew off the cloak. She shivered in the cold. His gloved fingers trailed down her bare arms, heating her with his touch. She shivered in delight.
And then he slid the straps off her shoulders, and she watched as he smoothed the dress down, revealing her breasts, her stomach. An ache started between her legs, the throb growing as he pushed the material over he hips and it feel to pool around her black heels. She stepped out of bunched green velvet, and nearly stumbled, her legs having turned to jelly. He caught her effortlessly, steadying her for a few moments before turning his attention back to her state of dress. His gloved hands caught the waistband of her pantyhose and peeling them down, following the curve of her thighs to the tops of her knees. He knelt and swiftly removed her heels, discarding them before reaching up, one leg at a time, to smooth the rest of delicate material off over her legs and feet.
Sarah stood there, clad only in black panties, shaking with arousal at the feel of gloved fingers having swept all down her body as he'd removed her clothing.
He locked eyes with her. Those mismatched colours framed by streaks of platinum. Her lips parted but no sound came out.
Gloved fingers pressed against her and she knew the cotton was damp. She closed her eyes and felt her underwear slide over her hips and down to the ground. When she opened them, he had stood again, in front of her, watching: his eyes skimming over her body from her face to her feet.
She was naked. Standing before him in the moonlight. Even her hair could offer no shielding at its new length. The nipples of both her breasts tightened at the cool air. She throbbed between her legs. She wondered if she should feel embarrassed, laid bare like this but seeing his eyes darken as he took it all in, emboldened her. She slid a hand between her legs, pushed a finger through her own folds, all the while looking at him.
The next second he was there, lifting her off her feet and into his arms, her hand still between her legs even as he carried her a few steps. He lowered her onto the ground, his cloak beneath her, softening the ground.
She lay, breathing deeply, looking up at the stars. She felt him shift, positioning himself between her legs. His hand on hers, moving it aside. His head bent. Warmth breath between her legs…and then the stars went out.
Afterwards, he wrapped her in the cloak, the fur against her naked flesh, and she lay boneless in his arms, dazed in the aftermath of pleasure.
At length, she raised her head from where it lay against his chest, and freed her arms from the warm material. She wound them round his neck, soft skin against the cool material of his shirt. He caught the cloak before it pooled at her waist and wrapped it round her body, under her arms then repositioning her to sit comfortably in his lap.
She leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips, and then rested her face against his neck. His hands stroked her bare arms before catching her hair. Her played with the heavy locks, soothing her, and a sigh of pleasure escaped as she lay contently against his skin.
He dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder and she shivered.
She pulled away from his neck slightly and looked up to see a knowing smirk grace his face.
"Well, I guess there are some advantages to shorter hair, gives access." She mumbled and he laughed, the rumble vibrating through his chest and straight into her heart.
"I will miss the access." He trailed kisses over shoulder and the top of her left arm. "But I assure you, I will find a way around it."
She smiled at the softness in his tone.
"You're taking me with you, aren't you?"
"Yes." It was resolute. A hand came under her chin and he tilted her face to meet his. The gesture reminded her of a more intimate version of the second painting. "Does it frighten you that I have not asked?"
Sarah smiled, there were nerves there swirling inside of her but also peace, "No. You wouldn't be taking me if tonight has gone differently."
He eyes flickered over her face. He bent to kiss her. "Is that so?" He smirked, and she saw the slight cruelty in there, saw and accepted it, accepted all of who he was. It was as gone in an instant, replaced by a softer smile, "I guess we will have to live without knowing."
He helped her dress, smoothing the soft velvet up over her thighs, the swell of her breasts.
The pantyhose was abandoned. As were her panties.
He knelt and slid her shoes back onto her feet, completing the delicate straps. After finishing the second shoe, he wrapped the clock around her, swept his arm underneath her body and carried her out of the trees and towards the path. She expected him to put her down, her delicate heels having been spared from further adventure on the grounds, but he continued on, following the path back towards the entrance. She leaned her head against his neck, breathing in his scent.
They didn't talk as he carried her. Nor did he put her down when they reached the steps, ascending with ease. It was later now and no one manned the door nor stood smoking.
Sarah shifting, anticipating him returning her to her feet so as to open the double doors. Instead he hold tightened in reaction and he glanced down at her.
"Close your eyes."
She did so and felt him step forward. The next moment, a curious sensation, like a low vibration, enveloped her.
She kept her eyes shut and heard his soft laughter.
"You can look now."
She knew before she did so that they'd stepped through the solid entrance doors and were inside her foyer. Even so, she stared around, and the back at him, mesmerised.
He smirked and strode across the floor towards the reception hall.
"Wait!" She protested, "Everyone's in there!"
He didn't pause and the next thing she knew they'd strolled through the open doors to the reception hall…
And it was empty.
Utterly empty.
No throngs of people, so server with trays of champagne and no…art?
No, there was art. Just two pieces on display in the far corners of the room. Paintings she had seen this very night.
She was dimly aware of him lowering her to the ground, steadying her at the waist as her heels touched the floor.
"Where is everything? Everyone?" She stared back at him.
He looked at her evenly, "Everything and everyone that matters is right here."
She turned back to the room and realised the centre square remained. The final painting.
The first two have proven true. What would this last one say?
"Still fearful?"
He was in front of her, several feet away.
She looked at him. He extended a gloved hand.
She thought of the streak of cruelty and the challenge in his smirk.
She thought of the unyielding patience in his eyes, the firm but soft grip he had when he held her.
She thought of the way he'd kissed her, how he'd put his mouth on her and chased her to ecstasy, how he'd put her shoes on and then carried her.
She shook her head slightly and reached for him.
"No. I know what'll it show."
"Professor Titan?" The red-haired young woman approached the tall, blonde figure who stood in front of the painting.
He glanced at her, blue eyes pleasant, though a bemused glint seemed to lurk.
"Eliza."
"Last night went well I thought." The young woman smiled as she joined him, eyes scanning over the canvas in front of them.
Her brow furrowed slightly as she observed the piece, "Odd though. That the buyer for this painting did not want the set."
The Professor lips quirked briefly. "I suppose only this one resonated."
Eliza shrugged and they both stood in silence staring at the figures ahead. A man dressed in black sat squarely on a throne. He wore a circlet atop sleek, fair hair and his bodily demeanour was assertive, arms resting on both of the chair, an unmistakeable dominance echoing out...but his head was turned to the left to gaze at the figure there. Curiously, the dark smile playing on his lips appeared more satisfied than cruel, more proud than commanding as he watched the woman dressed in green who sat on a second throne. Unlike him, she sat twisted, leaning towards him. Her right hand pressed over his left arm whilst her left arm was raised, hand gripping the length of what appeared to be a bejewelled silver sceptre held straight, pressing down out of sight to the ground. There was a softer smirk on her lips, as though she had stolen the staff and was teasing.
The Professor's eyes roamed over the painting and then to the young woman next to him. "And what do you think?"
Eliza shrugged, gaze flickering over the woman in the painting. She wondered where the Professor had found the model. She scanned the figure, lingering on the dark tresses that contrasted so beautifully with the green velvet of her dress, spilling over her shoulders and down her back, reaching nearly to the woman's waist.
"I like her hair better in this one."
