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Bubble
°•.•°
Her mind is hazy, gone enough to have her struggling to put one foot in front of the other as she follows along the hallway, pulled forward by a determined male force.
While trying to conquer her sea legs, her short-term memory tries to touch on an event so life-altering, she has trouble grasping the concept. And therefore, she illogically blames her current disorientated state on the one-and-a-half glasses of champagne she had in the aftermath of Louis and Sheila rushing off to the hospital to have a baby.
She's intoxicated. To say the least. That's why she's unsteady on her feet, stumbling, giddy. Floating like a feather on the wind. Then suddenly the trajectory changes, and she nearly trips over her heels while being hauled into a tiny, barely lit room.
Overhead, the single light bulb has lost its life-force and radiates a thin glow, illuminating nothing more than a five-by-ten ceiling.
Behind her, the door locks, and all goes silent for a fraction of a second. Then soft fabrics brush her back as she's pushed into a wall, and she thinks they may have found the cloakroom.
Harvey's mouth crashes over hers, and she's even less in control than she thought. Defenseless. Helpless. Merely able to respond. And yet, she's as safe as she'll ever be, so she surrenders to his needs, which gloriously resemble her own, clutching and clawing until their mouths at last separate and their heavy breathing fills the air.
She waits for him to speak, knowing—even without the ability to see his eyes—that he's searching for a way to vocalize the emotions he no doubt has trouble untangling.
When his question eventually leaves his lips, the words are deafening. "Did you really marry me?"
She smiles as his grip tightens on her waist. She's not drunk. Not from any alcohol. Her consciousness just struggled to accept her new and improved reality. And as Harvey's query dances between them, she knows he's equally bewildered. But now that their upgraded status has been established, her mind clears like a morning fog after sunrise.
She nods against his lips. "I did."
"And that's legal?"
Her palm lands on his cheek, her thumb lazily stroking the rough skin. "You're the lawyer. You tell me."
She trails a path down his arm, down his hand, over the formerly bare ring finger that now carries the symbol of their union. Their lips meet. Their fingers lock. And then he's kissing her vehemently, fiercely, thrusting his pelvis into hers, and she imagines his arousal pressing into her stomach.
Thanks to layers upon layers of fabric, imagination is all she has. But even if she can't feel it, she knows the intent driving his forcefulness. Especially now that they're alone, hidden from the outside world.
She meets him at each step, giving and taking with a deep desperation to preserve the fragile bubble they're in.
From the depths of her soul, a whimper escapes as his mouth descends and lands on her throat. Heat pools between her legs in response; a dire urgency to consummate the marriage overtaking her every move.
His massive palm pulls down the front of her dress, and cool air rushes her skin, tightening her nipples. She claws at his scalp as his tongue finds her breast, and her head lolls back involuntarily.
Thirsting to feel him, she reaches between their bodies, cupping his rigorous erection. He swears inaudibly against her clavicle while his assault on her chest continues with fervor.
Seconds later, his pants pool at his ankles, and she skillfully bunches up her dress' skirt. Then she lifts a leg around his waist, and he eagerly grips her thigh, joining their lower bodies, and without a moment's pause, his heat slides into her own as Harvey easily slips himself inside her welcoming walls.
They both curse, halting.
Not an inch of space separates them, and she senses a smile fueled with pride directed at her.
"Mrs. Specter," he murmurs in her ear.
"Mmm. I like the sound of that," she says, seeking his lips while his hips buck.
She winces at the intrusion—full and hard—closing her eyes to absorb the sensation. "How about… Ah." She moans, recovering, to utter, "Paulsen-Specter?"
"I don't…." Kiss. Thrust. "Care." Thrust. "As long as you're mine," he grunts.
He kisses her tenaciously, and when their lips part, she states, "I am."
The reply triggers a primordial growl, and he devours her mouth, pounding into her throbbing core. Fast. Hard. Harder.
He knows exactly what she needs, and she's right there along with him.
She tugs at his bowtie, undoing the buttons of his shirt to expose his chiseled chest.
Desperate for all of him, her nails dig into his back, holding on for dear life.
Minutes later, she bites his shoulder when her orgasm hits, happy the fabric of his suit jacket allows extra padding. He'll need it, because she is on the verge of losing her mind, her grip on reality, and she has no choice but to relinquish control to the sensation, to Harvey. To her husband.
She feels his release, his body going rigid before he depressurizes completely. Then he unceremoniously slumps forward, pinning her frame until he regains his muscle function.
"You're amazing," he whispers, his chest heaving.
"I know," she sasses, feeling his forehead rest against her own.
An eternity passes.
"I love you, Donna. I know this may not have been the wedding of your dreams, but I was trying to find the right moment to propose, and then Louis… I just couldn't wait any more."
The quiet words rumble in the air, bringing tears to her eyes as their weight ultimately lands. A decade-and-a-half in the making, and they're finally here. Married. Bound together forever. "I love you, too," she chokes, unable to keep the joy, the exultation, from blurring her vision.
His fingers weave into her hair, cupping her face to kiss away her tears. "We just had sex at our wedding."
She chuckles. "We just had sex at Louis' wedding."
They both laugh; their bubble about to expire. Because as soon as they leave the tiny room, they'll have to face the reality of not only being newlyweds, but of leaving New York City. So, when daylight drapes over them like a heavy cloak, she slips her hand into her husband's palm, trusting that together they can conquer the world.
A/N: Not sure where this came from, especially since it's been so long since I wrote anything decent. So I'd love to hear what you think. :)