Title: The Open Road
Author: Kaitlyn
Summary: "I've got some beer and the highway's free, and I got you and baby you got me."
Rating: R
Warning: This chapter is rated R for sexual situations. I know the last chapter was rated R, as well, but that was really just more of a precautionary. As notified in one or two of the reviews, it probably wasn't ACTUALLY necessary for me to rate it as such. However, this chapter is definitely going to be a legitimate R. Sorry if this sort of thing offends you, but it's their wedding night. What do you really expect? :-) Besides, it's tasteful. Tasteful, tasteful, tasteful. I'm all about being tasteful.
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A soft beam of sunshine crept in through the open window, flirting it's way past the swaying sheer curtains, and coming to rest on the pair of lovers who were sleeping soundly in their nest of blankets and feathery pillows. It was not the light that woke Rachel, however. It was the light breeze that accompanied it.
She got up from the bed, crossing the plush carpet to the window and closing it tightly. When she came back to the bed, Ross had already turned in his sleep and was now clasping a pillow to his chest that he must have been dreaming was her. She placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss on his shoulder, ruffling his hair.
"Wake up, Sweety." He moaned and turned to look up at her, shielding his eyes from the sunshine that was still pouring in from the now closed window. After he collected his thoughts and realized that it was Rachel who he was looking at, he shook his head in protest to her request and threw both of his arms around her legs.
"Just 5 more minutes," he assured her, giving her ass a playful squeeze and kissing her stomach before turning back over and pulling a pillow over his head. She rolled her eyes and headed for the shower, murmuring something to herself about him still being a 17-year-old boy at heart.
After showering, she put on a set of pink underwear and wrapped the towel around her head, making her way back into the bedroom to find her make-up case. As expected, she found that Ross had yet to move from his position in the bed. She decided not to turn the light on, because she remembered how much she despised it when he did that in order to wake her up, so she instead opted for throwing a pillow at his head.
"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," she taunted, unzipping her suitcase and retrieving her make-up bag, "Get up! We have to be downstairs in like 20 minutes." He finally threw back the covers, knowing that the longer he stood in bed, the harder it was going to be to get up. After his feet hit the floor, though, and he discovered what she clad in, he mentally reprimanded himself for not getting up and noticing sooner. She was standing in front of the mirror on the dresser, meticulously applying eye-liner with her hair thrown up in a damp, messy bun and wearing only her underwear. Damn their lunch date with the guys, he thought.
"What time is it?" he asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her stomach, kissing her neck. He rested his chin on her shoulder, looking at their reflection in the mirror.
"11:30. We're meeting them at 11:45, which means that you've you wasted 5 of your 20 minutes talking to me," she teased, turning to give him a quick peck on the cheek to show that she was just playing with him. "So hurry up and go shower!" She smacked his ass as he turned to head for the shower. So nice, she thought, smiling to herself.
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At lunch, everyone discussed how the wedding was going to play out. Naturally, Monica took over with most of the planning details. She seemed to know more about what was going on then even Ross and Rachel.
"Okay," she began," it's all worked out. I've been up since about 7 this morning, talking to people and setting it all up. You know, if you want something done, you really just have to do it yourself! The resort's live-in decorator is making the flower arrangements and setting up the gazebo. The caterers are assembling one table of appetizers- nothing too fancy. That's what you wanted, right?" Ross and Rachel were both a little confused and stunned at all of the information Monica was throwing at them.
"Uh, yes, right. Nothing too fancy," Ross finally answered.
"Alright, good," she continued. "It's pretty convenient, actually, because there's a priest staying at the hotel who agreed to do the ceremony. It's going to start at 5:30 because it gets dark here around 6, so that should be just enough time to perform the service before nighttime. Now, there's only enough room in the gazebo to seat 10 people in those white, wooden fold-out chairs. That shouldn't be a problem, though, because it's really just the 4 of us who are going to be watching, plus Mr. & Mrs. Ferrar and Lindsay." Ross eyed Rachel at the mention of Lindsay, but was surprised when she was seemingly unaffected.
"Monica?" Rachel asked, sounding a little hopeful.
"Yeah?"
"This all sounds really great, and thank you so much for doing all of those for us, but..." Monica knew instantly what was bothering her best friend.
"You want a wedding dress, don't you?" Rachel nodded, smiling almost shamefully in the fact that she had predictably given in and hadn't been able to stick to her initial request for a "casual wedding". Monica smiled back at her.
"I know, Sweety. I figured you would feel that way, so I packed a little something for you. Come on, you can come try it on. I bought some jewelry, too." Touched, Rachel found that tears were welling up in her eyes.
"Monica, that's so sweet! I can't believe you did that! How can I repay you for something like this?" Monica didn't skip a beat.
"With something to the tune of, oh say, $500?"
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The girls all went to Monica and Chandler's room to help Rachel try on the dress and jewelry and to talk about the wedding, while the guys hung out in Ross and Rachel's room because it had the big-screen TV. When Monica pulled out the classic corset wedding dress, both Phoebe and Rachel gasped.
"Oh my GOD, Monica, it's gorgeous! I can't believe I get to wear this! This must have been a fortune!" Monica shook her head, handing the dress by it's hanger to Rachel, who was still starting admiringly at it. It was very simple, but extraordinarily elegant.
"No, actually! I ordered it online from a metrofashion site. It was only about $80, which was really lucky, since it was discounted down from $200. I couldn't decide between strapless or off-the-shoulder, but I thought you'd look better in the strapless. I like the fact that it's made from satin!" Rachel just shook her head in disbelief. The dress was truly gorgeous. She couldn't believe that she had nearly passed up getting married in such a beautiful dress.
(Author's Note: If you want to see the dress that I modeled Rachel's after, it's here: http://store4.yimg.com/I/metrofashion-formal_1785_651599)
"The jewelry isn't much- it's just a necklace- but it was an impulse buy when I was out shopping for the dress. It was just so pretty, I couldn't pass it up." Monica came back from the bathroom to reveal a custom, hand-beaded, burgundy and gold threaded choker.
"I thought it would contrast really well against the all-white dress," Monica said calmly, handing the necklace over to Rachel.
(Author's Note: If you want to see the necklace that I modeled Rachel's after, it's here: http://www.needlewoman.com/wedding_necklace_gold.htm)
"Oh, that's gorgeous," Phoebe chimed in. "So, you have two new things! Now, we just need to find you something old, blue, and barrowed and we can kill two squirrels with one tire!" Rachel and Monica stared at their quirky friend, but just laughed instead of asking questions.
"Oh, I've got that covered!" Monica delved into her suitcase, revealing a light blue garter.
"I bought this a while ago to wear whenever I got married, but you can use it tonight. It's old, blue AND borrowed! I know the light blue doesn't really go with the necklace, but it's so efficient!" Rachel nodded and smiled as she took the garter from Monica.
"I don't care that it doesn't match. Aw, honey, thank you so much!" The three girls hugged, taking a moment to really consider that fact that one of them was about to get married. When they pulled away, they all had tears in their eyes.
"Oh my God, Rach, do you realize we're about to be sisters-in-law? I mean, this is really happening! You're really marrying Ross! You're marrying my brother!" Rachel nodded, sighing in disbelief herself. She shrugged exaggeratedly.
"I know! What can I say? I love him...I love him so much, you guys." Monica and Phoebe nodded knowingly.
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In the room adjacent to Monica and Chandler's, the guys were watching a football game and drinking beer.
"So," Joey piped up, as soon as half-time had started, "today's the big day, huh Ross?" Ross nodded, taking a sip of his beer.
"Yup, it sure is. God, can you believe it? I mean, it's RACHEL! Who would have thought that I'd be marrying Rachel in a THOUSAND years!"
"Not me," Joey answered honestly. "She's WAY hotter than you, man! I'd keep an eye on her, if I were you!" Ross disregarded Joey's statement, knowing that he meant well.
"I don't know, I always kind of knew you two would end up together," Chandler answered, breaking his stream of silence. Ross looked inquisitively at him.
"Really? Even back in college?" Chandler nodded, drinking his beer. Ross looked doubtful, but intrigued.
"Oh, come on, Rachel didn't even know that I existed in high school and college. You're telling me that you actually believed we'd eventually be getting MARRIED?" Chandler shrugged, not understand what the big deal was.
"Well, yeah! I don't think you remember how much you liked her, man. I mean, you talked about how hot she was and everything, but it was more than that. I could tell that you really cared about her. You really loved her. For you to stick with her for that long, even after she wouldn't give you the time of day...that says a lot." Ross was surprisingly touched by Chandler's comment, having never known that he had always possessed so much faith in him.
"Well thanks, man! I never knew you felt that way. Maybe I shouldn't have felt like such a loser for all those years!" Taking a sip of his beer and turning his attention back to the television, Chandler answered monotonously.
"No, you were definitely a loser."
"Hey, speaking of 'all those years', what took you so long to propose?" Joey asked from his position on the big leather chair. Ross shook his head, obviously a little embarrassed.
"I don't know, I've asked myself that before. On our one-year anniversary, I started thinking about proposing. I mean, I knew for sure from the first time I kissed her that I could never be with anybody else, but I REALLY started thinking about it after the first year."
"So," Joey urged, "what stopped you from doing it?"
"Sometimes I think it was because I thought she might have said 'no'. Other times, I think it was because I was maybe subconsciously scarred from the whole Carol thing. Then, sometimes I think it was because I didn't think I was good enough for her. It's like I felt guilty for even being with her. I don't know...whatever it was, I realized while we were at the beach that no reason would ever be good enough to justify us not being together forever."
"Wow," Joey replied, "what changed your mind?" Ross thought about this question for a long moment, taking a swig from his beer.
"I think it was the night of our anniversary, when we were laying out on the beach. She was telling me all of these things about her childhood- what she had been afraid of, what had made her sad, what her dreams had been- and I realized that I never wanted her to stop talking. I never wanted to stop knowing what she was feeling. I wanted- needed- to know everything she had ever felt, because I wanted to be the one to protect her from all of those things that had scared her and I wanted to be the one to give her all of those things she had dreamed of. I wanted to save her, which I know sounds really stupid, but I felt this really bizarre feeling of protectiveness over her that I just knew was irreversible- I knew I would never stop feeling it. I didn't want to."
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At around 4:30 pm, the girls all gathered in Monica and Chandler's room to help Rachel get dressed. Monica picked out a very subtle, shimmery golden eye-shadow to match the gold embroidery on the necklace. They ended up deciding on a more natural hairstyle, putting her hair up in a fixed bun with a few strands hanging down to frame her face. The white satin corset fit her perfectly, almost glowing with cleanliness against the deep tan of her skin. Monica cracked a "like a virgin" joke, at which Rachel couldn't help but laugh.
In Ross and Rachel's room, Ross had been in a bit of a panic. Realizing that Rachel now had an actual wedding dress, he felt that he should wear something more formal than the button-up dress shirt and black slacks that he had originally planned on. Fortunately, Chandler ran down to the lobby and asked around, finally succeeding in finding a willing owner of a tux who was about Ross' size. It came with a burgundy vest, which Ross wouldn't know until the ceremony matched Rachel's necklace. He gelled his hair up in the front, the way he knew she liked. Separately, the girls and the guys walked down to the gazebo at around exactly 5:15. The sight that they were met with, however, almost took their breath away.
The white gazebo was dressed with various displays of white and purple lilies, and laced with rich green vines. Arrangements of a few miscellaneous yellow and pink flowers somehow worked their way in, too. Candles were placed along the handrails, illuminating the simi-circle as the sun sank into the distance. The priest was already situated at the front. It was picture perfect.
When Ross and Rachel saw each other for the first time, the world around them slowed down. No one else, nor had they ever, existed. They were fully aware of the journey they were about to embark upon, and they were at the water's edge, eager to jump in. When everyone was seated, and the wedding march was carried by wind into the ears of all the lookers on, it was Ross who walked her down the aisle. It was not meant to be metaphorical, but if it had been, it could have been argued that no other man in the world (besides her father) was more fit to give her away than him. As he had always dreamt, he was saving her.
The vows were short, and led by the priest. Everything that they could have ever said to each other had already been said, and they both knew it all. There were no more words. Through it all, they stared contented and peacefully into each others' eyes, repeating the appropriate words, but knowing all the while that they weren't enough to express everything they were feeling. The real vows- the ones that mattered- were communicated silently, under the radar of all the guests.
During it all, Rachel had momentarily broken her eye-lock with Ross and had peered out into the audience. Lindsay had been there, as expected, but she was somehow strangely different to Rachel. She was no longer the stern, threatening woman that she had initially been. She was a girl- a very sad girl, whose regret was painfully obvious in her eyes and face. Rachel looked back at Ross, tearing her eyes away from the girl who'd lost it all so that she could have it.
It was over before they knew it, but it was easy to lose track of time when it no longer existed for them. They walked back to the lodge in a haze, hand-in-hand with their feet never touching the ground. The other 4 stayed behind, allowing them their time together and knowing that it was useless to try and talk to them until tomorrow. For them, the other 4 did not even exist. What had just happened had changed their lives forever, and for a short while, Ross and Rachel would allow themselves the gift of being the only ones to fully the implications of that.
When they got back to their room, they did not speak. They had not spoken since before the ceremony. They had not spoken since before they'd seen each other that evening. Not only were there no words, but they did not need them. They found themselves functioning fully well without them.
Ross pulled at the zipper of her dress, letting it fall to the floor and finding her standing before him in nothing but the garter and necklace. She smiled.
"Sorry they don't match." He shook her his, chuckling silently. He had been somewhat glad that she had said something before they continued. He wanted to know that they weren't in such a haze that they couldn't reap the full benefits from or have a completely understanding for what was about to happen. He stepped to her, gently pulling the loose tie from her hair and watching the thickness of her hair fall around her shoulders and into her eyes. God, never cover her eyes up, he thought. Don't ever stop looking at her eyes.
Somehow, she undressed him before they even hit the mattress. He crawled up the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. She was leaning against the headboard, her golden brown hair falling freely about her shoulders and her skin bathed in a warm light that only accentuated the natural, bronzed Earthy glow that seemed to permanently radiate from her body. Her skin looked flawless to him, and so smooth that he'd be surprised to feel anything at all upon touching her. Though she was completely naked, leaving all of herself revealed to him, he was transfixed by her eyes. Their usual sparkling shimmer was juxtaposed with a sort of smokiness, making her seem even more elegant and mysterious than usual. Mysterious she was not, however, and that was what made her so beautiful to him in that moment. She was keeping none of herself from him. Everything she was feeling was all laid about before him, and she trusted him implicitly with all of it.
She smiled, and it was over. With that simple gesture, they had begun. Call it what you will, but it was birthed that night from the small dimples that formed on her cheeks when she grinned at him, and it would not end until that overwhelming neediness and excitement had lulled them both into a deep slumber.
Neediness. That was a good word for it, he decided. It was the closest thing to familiar that he could recognize when he saw her sitting there before him. An irresistible need to be as far inside her as possible overtook him, weakening him to a devastating state. If only she knew, he thought. If only she knew how entirely she could break him. If only she knew how weak and helpless she made him feel- how overbearing and unbelievable her beauty was to him. If only she knew how badly he felt that he needed her sometimes- this time being the grandfather of all it's predecessors- and if only she knew how ridiculously perfect she was. Perfect.
Time slowed down for an achingly long moment, as he positioned himself over top of her and dipped his lips to the curve of her neck. Then, with a jolting pressure, it sped up to twice it's normal speed, as if in an attempt at regaining that moment that it had lost. He felt his head spin as his tongue slid softly over her salty skin, brushing it with every kiss. He felt her hands run freely over his back, forging a trail of goosebumps and icy-hot twinges. They stopped at his waist, gripping and massaging his sides. He stopped his ministrations, pulling away to look her in the eye. Her eyes had been shut, but opened suddenly, almost instinctively.
"Mmmm, you smell nice," he said, smiling goofily but more sweetly than he would ever know. She giggled at this, squeezing his sides. Satisfied with this response, he returned to his work, but this time began moving slowly up her neck to her jaw and cheek. Finally, he found her lips, and the onslaught of deprived passion that ensued was equivocal to that of a starving man's last meal. Their kiss was bruising, but neither would notice until days later, when the shock and utopianism of this encounter would finally wear off.
He shifted his weight, pulling himself completely on top of her. He supported himself evenly on his elbows, though, as to not suffocate her. He had not noticed immediately, but her hands were suddenly everywhere- exploring the contracting muscles of his back, resting over the curve of his ass or in the valley of his lower back, or tangled in his hair. Their encounter, thus far, was reminding her of the countless high school weekends spent in back-seats, but this excited her rather than disappointed. When the term "making out" rushed into the forefront of her mind, she couldn't help but giggle.
"Uh oh," he lamented, pulling away from her lips as she laughed. "This feel familiar."
"No, no, it's nothing like that! It's just that, for some reason, this reminded me of high school. I don't know why, but I suddenly felt 16 again." Ross pondered this for a moment.
"Is that a good thing?" She smiled.
"In this case, yes." Upon hearing this, he wasted no time in getting back to their previous actions. Only this time, there seemed to be a heightened zeal about their caresses and kisses- like the transition from nibbling to biting, or tickling to scratching. It was a faint bolster of passion, but it was undoubtedly present. It was the type of dizzy intensity that made her subconsciously bend her knees, cradling him more securely in between her legs. When she squeezed her thighs, pressing them softly into his sides, he felt a familiar constriction in his lungs and a tightening that seemed to be unique reactions to only her touch. He moaned deeply into the open-mouthed kiss that they had been dragging out so resolutely.
"What is it?" she asked, in that adorable breathy tone that she often used when making love. He tucked a strand of silky golden hair behind her ear.
"I just need- I can't remember where I put the-" He couldn't seem to figure out how to word the sentence, but she understood. This mangled, jigsaw puzzle of a conversation took place before nearly every encounter they had ever had. Usually, it resulted in him pulling his body weightily from the bed and leaving her momentarily cold and empty so that he could retrieve the condom. This time, however, when he heaved his weight upward and moved to throw back the sheet, she wrapped her legs and arms impedingly around his body. This startled him, but when he searched her eyes for an answer, all he could find was a bashful and hazy plead to stay. And so he did.
"It'll be okay," he reassured her between soft kisses and nose rubs. He knew that, while some primitive thing inside her refused his leaving the bed, she was also reluctant to continue without that safety net that had always been present. She was scared. He kissed her eyes, summoning them to open.
"Hey," he whispered, "I can pull out if you want." She shook her head. It was a simple response, but it was weighed down with all of the explanations in the world. She smoothed her hands over his shoulder blades, kissing him there.
"No...no, don't do that."
"Are you sure?" She swallowed, nodding her head firmly. He knew that she was afraid, and that made him feel slightly disgusting. He craved the feeling of being inside her without limitations or barriers. During their 4 years together, he had never experienced that with her. She had not always been on birth control, and by the time she was, they were so accustomed to it that they had just never bothered to stop. It had become routine, so the thought of being inside her without it now made his heart flutter in anticipation and excitement. He still felt selfish, though, knowing the anxiety and conflict that it was stirring inside her. It was different for girls.
"I just want you to be happy," he said, finding that even he was unsure as to what he meant. He had meant to say "comfortable" or even "satisfied". Maybe those things hadn't been what he really meant, after all. He wanted her to be happy.
"I am," she stated simply, stroking his biceps and smiling into their next kiss. He let a hand roam down her body, still supporting his weight with the other. His fingers moved swiftly between the valley of her breasts and across the flat plane of her stomach. When it dipped down to the inevitable towards which it had been traveling all along, she arched her hips up into his hand.
Rarely had she been this eager, but it sent a numbed thrill of empowerment throughout his body. For as long as he could remember, she had been that unattainable entity that had always remained just barley out of reach. Even after she was his, he still looked up to her with a sense of wonderment in the fact that she was allowing him to be with her. Now, it seemed that the roles had changed, and he thrived off of it. This time was inexplicably different from the hundreds that had gone before it. Maybe it was the feeling of rebirth that came from newlywed sex.
She took his hand in hers, in that way that he loved, and pulled it towards herself as she shifted her hips forward to meet him. He delved in and out of her, all the while mesmerized by the way her face looked as the moonlight danced across her skin, and the entreating moans that were escaping her lips. God, her lips. He rediscovered them every few minutes. That had always been their way- his way. He would forget them momentarily, having devoted his attention elsewhere, but he always came back. He would never, in a million years, attempt describing those lips. Never.
"Ross- I need- please." Something else that he loved about her, and that never ceased to make him smile, was the way that she could never form complete sentences while making love. He always knew exactly what she meant, though.
He nodded, taking her lower lip between his teeth. With the most impossible level of careful ease, considering how fast his blood was pumping and how hard his heart was beating, he slid himself completely inside her.
Immediately, a dozen imaged bombarded his brain. This was something that he had trained himself to do, in hopes of temporarily taking his mind off of the impossible amount of pleasure and preventing any embarrassment for himself. The imagines seemed random, but he was sure that they had some relevance. They came to him in broken fragments of glass- like dreams that end one moment before you wake, and tauntingly teeter at the edge of your perception, just out of your consciousness' reach. An intersection in the middle of the night, glazed with rain and lonely because it's light continues to rotate, even in the absence of cars. A mirror, shattered on a limestone floor. The Central Perk couch, 1,000 years from forever ago, torn and ripped to shreds. Her face. It always came back to her face. She was always the last imagine in the cycle, and it was not until that moment that he realized it was because he was always opening his eyes.
Upon opening his eyes, he was taken aback by how small she was. Perhaps it was because, for that split second after one opens his eyes, he is completely unbiased to everything around him. His eyes have not yet had time to focus and reiterate into his mind what he wants to be seeing. Those first imagines after opening his eyes were the most honest, and honesty at that moment was telling him that she was tiny. He saw the look of twisted anguish on her face, and was horrified at the thought that he might actually be causing her pain.
"Am I hurting you?" he asked. He almost chuckled. That was generally something asked during the first time, which this was definitely not. He had only ever asked one girl that before, and that was Carol, upon losing her virginity to him. Asking it now, to Rachel, was surreal to say the least. She felt the displacement of the question, too, and smiled while letting out a whispered moan.
"No, Sweety. You're fine...I'm fine." He nodded, taking her answer as a sign, and picking up the pace at which he entered and exited her. She wrapped her legs more tightly around his waist, and he moved his hands to her thighs, raising up on his knees. He saw her fists clench tightly at the white, starched bed sheets. Her breathing and moaning increased, encouraging him more. It was a vicious cycle, and if it was not slowed, it would undoubtedly bring them to a premature end.
Deciding that the angle was too much, too soon, he lowered himself back down and supported his weight on bent elbows that he placed on either side of her head. He slowed the pace, moderating it and keeping in time with the kisses that he placed along her jaw and neck. She gripped his arms, then his shoulders, then slid her hands down his back, resting them finally at his waist. She couldn't believe how out of breath she was, nor how intense and fast all of this had been. That was what she wanted, though.
His motions were deep but slow, with a similar passion as would be expected from a Sunday afternoon encounter on the hardwood floor of an unfurnished, high-rise apartment. Somewhere along the way, it had begun raining. The steady beating of the raindrops against the window pane behind the bed reminded him of that deserted stoplight. He felt sad, but only until he realized that she was beneath him, and that he was all around her. He betrayed that stoplight with one fiery kiss to her lips, but he could not have cared less. Slowly, it faded from his mind, along with all of it's accompanying images. As they made their way back down the same dirt road from which they'd come, the feeling of utopian bliss that they'd been subsiding built rapidly and ferociously inside of him. With a few even strokes, he knew that it would be over soon.
"I can't-" she started, struggling for breath. "Not this way..." He didn't think that she was done speaking, but it didn't matter, because they were running a futile footrace against Father Time, and he needed her to happy before himself. That had been part of the pact that they'd forged that day- putting her before himself- and he fully intended to apply it to all aspects of their life together, starting now.
He rolled them over, scooting up the length of the bed on his back with her straddling his waist. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw her grasp the headboard of the bed, and that's when most of everything went to black. He heard her breath, hard and deep above him. He heard the repetition of the wooden bed frame taping rhythmically against the wall, and he almost hoped that no one was occupying the room beside theirs, until he realized that he didn't really care at all. He opened his eyes to see that his hands were caressing her sides and thighs, but as suspected, her skin was so soft that he could barely feel it. He saw in tones of navy and gray, with the occasional spark of silver, provoked by a moan or a whispered "I love you".
"Better?" he somehow managed. She nodded, keeping her eyes sealed tightly shut, and concentrating on something that would forever remain unknown to him. Whatever her stoplight was...
Her hips rocked forwards and backwards, up and down, and he just held on tightly and tried to keep up. Before he knew it, he heard the telltale hitch in her breath, followed shortly by a smothered scream. She collapsed on top of him, their breathing hard and struggling. He ran his hands up and down her sides until they came to rest on her lower back and hips. He looked into the still obscurity of the room, sure that the world around them must be different now. He was grounded and secretly comforted in finding that it was not.
"Sweety," he whispered. It was not really a question, but more of an inquisition as to whether she was still awake. She had not moved since it had ended. She answered him by moving her right hand up to his neck and running her fingernails lightly over his skin there. He smiled, fitting her more comfortably and tightly to his side. He kissed her forehead, knowing that they would not speak for the rest of the night, but also knowing that it was enough for them to just lay in silence.
With one hand and leg draped over his body, and her head laying on his chest, she drifted off to a peaceful slumber- one that could only be brought on by the calming lullaby of a new husband's rhythmic breathing.
End Chapter 14. Continued In Chapter 15.
Author: Kaitlyn
Summary: "I've got some beer and the highway's free, and I got you and baby you got me."
Rating: R
Warning: This chapter is rated R for sexual situations. I know the last chapter was rated R, as well, but that was really just more of a precautionary. As notified in one or two of the reviews, it probably wasn't ACTUALLY necessary for me to rate it as such. However, this chapter is definitely going to be a legitimate R. Sorry if this sort of thing offends you, but it's their wedding night. What do you really expect? :-) Besides, it's tasteful. Tasteful, tasteful, tasteful. I'm all about being tasteful.
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A soft beam of sunshine crept in through the open window, flirting it's way past the swaying sheer curtains, and coming to rest on the pair of lovers who were sleeping soundly in their nest of blankets and feathery pillows. It was not the light that woke Rachel, however. It was the light breeze that accompanied it.
She got up from the bed, crossing the plush carpet to the window and closing it tightly. When she came back to the bed, Ross had already turned in his sleep and was now clasping a pillow to his chest that he must have been dreaming was her. She placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss on his shoulder, ruffling his hair.
"Wake up, Sweety." He moaned and turned to look up at her, shielding his eyes from the sunshine that was still pouring in from the now closed window. After he collected his thoughts and realized that it was Rachel who he was looking at, he shook his head in protest to her request and threw both of his arms around her legs.
"Just 5 more minutes," he assured her, giving her ass a playful squeeze and kissing her stomach before turning back over and pulling a pillow over his head. She rolled her eyes and headed for the shower, murmuring something to herself about him still being a 17-year-old boy at heart.
After showering, she put on a set of pink underwear and wrapped the towel around her head, making her way back into the bedroom to find her make-up case. As expected, she found that Ross had yet to move from his position in the bed. She decided not to turn the light on, because she remembered how much she despised it when he did that in order to wake her up, so she instead opted for throwing a pillow at his head.
"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," she taunted, unzipping her suitcase and retrieving her make-up bag, "Get up! We have to be downstairs in like 20 minutes." He finally threw back the covers, knowing that the longer he stood in bed, the harder it was going to be to get up. After his feet hit the floor, though, and he discovered what she clad in, he mentally reprimanded himself for not getting up and noticing sooner. She was standing in front of the mirror on the dresser, meticulously applying eye-liner with her hair thrown up in a damp, messy bun and wearing only her underwear. Damn their lunch date with the guys, he thought.
"What time is it?" he asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her stomach, kissing her neck. He rested his chin on her shoulder, looking at their reflection in the mirror.
"11:30. We're meeting them at 11:45, which means that you've you wasted 5 of your 20 minutes talking to me," she teased, turning to give him a quick peck on the cheek to show that she was just playing with him. "So hurry up and go shower!" She smacked his ass as he turned to head for the shower. So nice, she thought, smiling to herself.
****************************************************************************
At lunch, everyone discussed how the wedding was going to play out. Naturally, Monica took over with most of the planning details. She seemed to know more about what was going on then even Ross and Rachel.
"Okay," she began," it's all worked out. I've been up since about 7 this morning, talking to people and setting it all up. You know, if you want something done, you really just have to do it yourself! The resort's live-in decorator is making the flower arrangements and setting up the gazebo. The caterers are assembling one table of appetizers- nothing too fancy. That's what you wanted, right?" Ross and Rachel were both a little confused and stunned at all of the information Monica was throwing at them.
"Uh, yes, right. Nothing too fancy," Ross finally answered.
"Alright, good," she continued. "It's pretty convenient, actually, because there's a priest staying at the hotel who agreed to do the ceremony. It's going to start at 5:30 because it gets dark here around 6, so that should be just enough time to perform the service before nighttime. Now, there's only enough room in the gazebo to seat 10 people in those white, wooden fold-out chairs. That shouldn't be a problem, though, because it's really just the 4 of us who are going to be watching, plus Mr. & Mrs. Ferrar and Lindsay." Ross eyed Rachel at the mention of Lindsay, but was surprised when she was seemingly unaffected.
"Monica?" Rachel asked, sounding a little hopeful.
"Yeah?"
"This all sounds really great, and thank you so much for doing all of those for us, but..." Monica knew instantly what was bothering her best friend.
"You want a wedding dress, don't you?" Rachel nodded, smiling almost shamefully in the fact that she had predictably given in and hadn't been able to stick to her initial request for a "casual wedding". Monica smiled back at her.
"I know, Sweety. I figured you would feel that way, so I packed a little something for you. Come on, you can come try it on. I bought some jewelry, too." Touched, Rachel found that tears were welling up in her eyes.
"Monica, that's so sweet! I can't believe you did that! How can I repay you for something like this?" Monica didn't skip a beat.
"With something to the tune of, oh say, $500?"
****************************************************************************
The girls all went to Monica and Chandler's room to help Rachel try on the dress and jewelry and to talk about the wedding, while the guys hung out in Ross and Rachel's room because it had the big-screen TV. When Monica pulled out the classic corset wedding dress, both Phoebe and Rachel gasped.
"Oh my GOD, Monica, it's gorgeous! I can't believe I get to wear this! This must have been a fortune!" Monica shook her head, handing the dress by it's hanger to Rachel, who was still starting admiringly at it. It was very simple, but extraordinarily elegant.
"No, actually! I ordered it online from a metrofashion site. It was only about $80, which was really lucky, since it was discounted down from $200. I couldn't decide between strapless or off-the-shoulder, but I thought you'd look better in the strapless. I like the fact that it's made from satin!" Rachel just shook her head in disbelief. The dress was truly gorgeous. She couldn't believe that she had nearly passed up getting married in such a beautiful dress.
(Author's Note: If you want to see the dress that I modeled Rachel's after, it's here: http://store4.yimg.com/I/metrofashion-formal_1785_651599)
"The jewelry isn't much- it's just a necklace- but it was an impulse buy when I was out shopping for the dress. It was just so pretty, I couldn't pass it up." Monica came back from the bathroom to reveal a custom, hand-beaded, burgundy and gold threaded choker.
"I thought it would contrast really well against the all-white dress," Monica said calmly, handing the necklace over to Rachel.
(Author's Note: If you want to see the necklace that I modeled Rachel's after, it's here: http://www.needlewoman.com/wedding_necklace_gold.htm)
"Oh, that's gorgeous," Phoebe chimed in. "So, you have two new things! Now, we just need to find you something old, blue, and barrowed and we can kill two squirrels with one tire!" Rachel and Monica stared at their quirky friend, but just laughed instead of asking questions.
"Oh, I've got that covered!" Monica delved into her suitcase, revealing a light blue garter.
"I bought this a while ago to wear whenever I got married, but you can use it tonight. It's old, blue AND borrowed! I know the light blue doesn't really go with the necklace, but it's so efficient!" Rachel nodded and smiled as she took the garter from Monica.
"I don't care that it doesn't match. Aw, honey, thank you so much!" The three girls hugged, taking a moment to really consider that fact that one of them was about to get married. When they pulled away, they all had tears in their eyes.
"Oh my God, Rach, do you realize we're about to be sisters-in-law? I mean, this is really happening! You're really marrying Ross! You're marrying my brother!" Rachel nodded, sighing in disbelief herself. She shrugged exaggeratedly.
"I know! What can I say? I love him...I love him so much, you guys." Monica and Phoebe nodded knowingly.
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In the room adjacent to Monica and Chandler's, the guys were watching a football game and drinking beer.
"So," Joey piped up, as soon as half-time had started, "today's the big day, huh Ross?" Ross nodded, taking a sip of his beer.
"Yup, it sure is. God, can you believe it? I mean, it's RACHEL! Who would have thought that I'd be marrying Rachel in a THOUSAND years!"
"Not me," Joey answered honestly. "She's WAY hotter than you, man! I'd keep an eye on her, if I were you!" Ross disregarded Joey's statement, knowing that he meant well.
"I don't know, I always kind of knew you two would end up together," Chandler answered, breaking his stream of silence. Ross looked inquisitively at him.
"Really? Even back in college?" Chandler nodded, drinking his beer. Ross looked doubtful, but intrigued.
"Oh, come on, Rachel didn't even know that I existed in high school and college. You're telling me that you actually believed we'd eventually be getting MARRIED?" Chandler shrugged, not understand what the big deal was.
"Well, yeah! I don't think you remember how much you liked her, man. I mean, you talked about how hot she was and everything, but it was more than that. I could tell that you really cared about her. You really loved her. For you to stick with her for that long, even after she wouldn't give you the time of day...that says a lot." Ross was surprisingly touched by Chandler's comment, having never known that he had always possessed so much faith in him.
"Well thanks, man! I never knew you felt that way. Maybe I shouldn't have felt like such a loser for all those years!" Taking a sip of his beer and turning his attention back to the television, Chandler answered monotonously.
"No, you were definitely a loser."
"Hey, speaking of 'all those years', what took you so long to propose?" Joey asked from his position on the big leather chair. Ross shook his head, obviously a little embarrassed.
"I don't know, I've asked myself that before. On our one-year anniversary, I started thinking about proposing. I mean, I knew for sure from the first time I kissed her that I could never be with anybody else, but I REALLY started thinking about it after the first year."
"So," Joey urged, "what stopped you from doing it?"
"Sometimes I think it was because I thought she might have said 'no'. Other times, I think it was because I was maybe subconsciously scarred from the whole Carol thing. Then, sometimes I think it was because I didn't think I was good enough for her. It's like I felt guilty for even being with her. I don't know...whatever it was, I realized while we were at the beach that no reason would ever be good enough to justify us not being together forever."
"Wow," Joey replied, "what changed your mind?" Ross thought about this question for a long moment, taking a swig from his beer.
"I think it was the night of our anniversary, when we were laying out on the beach. She was telling me all of these things about her childhood- what she had been afraid of, what had made her sad, what her dreams had been- and I realized that I never wanted her to stop talking. I never wanted to stop knowing what she was feeling. I wanted- needed- to know everything she had ever felt, because I wanted to be the one to protect her from all of those things that had scared her and I wanted to be the one to give her all of those things she had dreamed of. I wanted to save her, which I know sounds really stupid, but I felt this really bizarre feeling of protectiveness over her that I just knew was irreversible- I knew I would never stop feeling it. I didn't want to."
****************************************************************************
At around 4:30 pm, the girls all gathered in Monica and Chandler's room to help Rachel get dressed. Monica picked out a very subtle, shimmery golden eye-shadow to match the gold embroidery on the necklace. They ended up deciding on a more natural hairstyle, putting her hair up in a fixed bun with a few strands hanging down to frame her face. The white satin corset fit her perfectly, almost glowing with cleanliness against the deep tan of her skin. Monica cracked a "like a virgin" joke, at which Rachel couldn't help but laugh.
In Ross and Rachel's room, Ross had been in a bit of a panic. Realizing that Rachel now had an actual wedding dress, he felt that he should wear something more formal than the button-up dress shirt and black slacks that he had originally planned on. Fortunately, Chandler ran down to the lobby and asked around, finally succeeding in finding a willing owner of a tux who was about Ross' size. It came with a burgundy vest, which Ross wouldn't know until the ceremony matched Rachel's necklace. He gelled his hair up in the front, the way he knew she liked. Separately, the girls and the guys walked down to the gazebo at around exactly 5:15. The sight that they were met with, however, almost took their breath away.
The white gazebo was dressed with various displays of white and purple lilies, and laced with rich green vines. Arrangements of a few miscellaneous yellow and pink flowers somehow worked their way in, too. Candles were placed along the handrails, illuminating the simi-circle as the sun sank into the distance. The priest was already situated at the front. It was picture perfect.
When Ross and Rachel saw each other for the first time, the world around them slowed down. No one else, nor had they ever, existed. They were fully aware of the journey they were about to embark upon, and they were at the water's edge, eager to jump in. When everyone was seated, and the wedding march was carried by wind into the ears of all the lookers on, it was Ross who walked her down the aisle. It was not meant to be metaphorical, but if it had been, it could have been argued that no other man in the world (besides her father) was more fit to give her away than him. As he had always dreamt, he was saving her.
The vows were short, and led by the priest. Everything that they could have ever said to each other had already been said, and they both knew it all. There were no more words. Through it all, they stared contented and peacefully into each others' eyes, repeating the appropriate words, but knowing all the while that they weren't enough to express everything they were feeling. The real vows- the ones that mattered- were communicated silently, under the radar of all the guests.
During it all, Rachel had momentarily broken her eye-lock with Ross and had peered out into the audience. Lindsay had been there, as expected, but she was somehow strangely different to Rachel. She was no longer the stern, threatening woman that she had initially been. She was a girl- a very sad girl, whose regret was painfully obvious in her eyes and face. Rachel looked back at Ross, tearing her eyes away from the girl who'd lost it all so that she could have it.
It was over before they knew it, but it was easy to lose track of time when it no longer existed for them. They walked back to the lodge in a haze, hand-in-hand with their feet never touching the ground. The other 4 stayed behind, allowing them their time together and knowing that it was useless to try and talk to them until tomorrow. For them, the other 4 did not even exist. What had just happened had changed their lives forever, and for a short while, Ross and Rachel would allow themselves the gift of being the only ones to fully the implications of that.
When they got back to their room, they did not speak. They had not spoken since before the ceremony. They had not spoken since before they'd seen each other that evening. Not only were there no words, but they did not need them. They found themselves functioning fully well without them.
Ross pulled at the zipper of her dress, letting it fall to the floor and finding her standing before him in nothing but the garter and necklace. She smiled.
"Sorry they don't match." He shook her his, chuckling silently. He had been somewhat glad that she had said something before they continued. He wanted to know that they weren't in such a haze that they couldn't reap the full benefits from or have a completely understanding for what was about to happen. He stepped to her, gently pulling the loose tie from her hair and watching the thickness of her hair fall around her shoulders and into her eyes. God, never cover her eyes up, he thought. Don't ever stop looking at her eyes.
Somehow, she undressed him before they even hit the mattress. He crawled up the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. She was leaning against the headboard, her golden brown hair falling freely about her shoulders and her skin bathed in a warm light that only accentuated the natural, bronzed Earthy glow that seemed to permanently radiate from her body. Her skin looked flawless to him, and so smooth that he'd be surprised to feel anything at all upon touching her. Though she was completely naked, leaving all of herself revealed to him, he was transfixed by her eyes. Their usual sparkling shimmer was juxtaposed with a sort of smokiness, making her seem even more elegant and mysterious than usual. Mysterious she was not, however, and that was what made her so beautiful to him in that moment. She was keeping none of herself from him. Everything she was feeling was all laid about before him, and she trusted him implicitly with all of it.
She smiled, and it was over. With that simple gesture, they had begun. Call it what you will, but it was birthed that night from the small dimples that formed on her cheeks when she grinned at him, and it would not end until that overwhelming neediness and excitement had lulled them both into a deep slumber.
Neediness. That was a good word for it, he decided. It was the closest thing to familiar that he could recognize when he saw her sitting there before him. An irresistible need to be as far inside her as possible overtook him, weakening him to a devastating state. If only she knew, he thought. If only she knew how entirely she could break him. If only she knew how weak and helpless she made him feel- how overbearing and unbelievable her beauty was to him. If only she knew how badly he felt that he needed her sometimes- this time being the grandfather of all it's predecessors- and if only she knew how ridiculously perfect she was. Perfect.
Time slowed down for an achingly long moment, as he positioned himself over top of her and dipped his lips to the curve of her neck. Then, with a jolting pressure, it sped up to twice it's normal speed, as if in an attempt at regaining that moment that it had lost. He felt his head spin as his tongue slid softly over her salty skin, brushing it with every kiss. He felt her hands run freely over his back, forging a trail of goosebumps and icy-hot twinges. They stopped at his waist, gripping and massaging his sides. He stopped his ministrations, pulling away to look her in the eye. Her eyes had been shut, but opened suddenly, almost instinctively.
"Mmmm, you smell nice," he said, smiling goofily but more sweetly than he would ever know. She giggled at this, squeezing his sides. Satisfied with this response, he returned to his work, but this time began moving slowly up her neck to her jaw and cheek. Finally, he found her lips, and the onslaught of deprived passion that ensued was equivocal to that of a starving man's last meal. Their kiss was bruising, but neither would notice until days later, when the shock and utopianism of this encounter would finally wear off.
He shifted his weight, pulling himself completely on top of her. He supported himself evenly on his elbows, though, as to not suffocate her. He had not noticed immediately, but her hands were suddenly everywhere- exploring the contracting muscles of his back, resting over the curve of his ass or in the valley of his lower back, or tangled in his hair. Their encounter, thus far, was reminding her of the countless high school weekends spent in back-seats, but this excited her rather than disappointed. When the term "making out" rushed into the forefront of her mind, she couldn't help but giggle.
"Uh oh," he lamented, pulling away from her lips as she laughed. "This feel familiar."
"No, no, it's nothing like that! It's just that, for some reason, this reminded me of high school. I don't know why, but I suddenly felt 16 again." Ross pondered this for a moment.
"Is that a good thing?" She smiled.
"In this case, yes." Upon hearing this, he wasted no time in getting back to their previous actions. Only this time, there seemed to be a heightened zeal about their caresses and kisses- like the transition from nibbling to biting, or tickling to scratching. It was a faint bolster of passion, but it was undoubtedly present. It was the type of dizzy intensity that made her subconsciously bend her knees, cradling him more securely in between her legs. When she squeezed her thighs, pressing them softly into his sides, he felt a familiar constriction in his lungs and a tightening that seemed to be unique reactions to only her touch. He moaned deeply into the open-mouthed kiss that they had been dragging out so resolutely.
"What is it?" she asked, in that adorable breathy tone that she often used when making love. He tucked a strand of silky golden hair behind her ear.
"I just need- I can't remember where I put the-" He couldn't seem to figure out how to word the sentence, but she understood. This mangled, jigsaw puzzle of a conversation took place before nearly every encounter they had ever had. Usually, it resulted in him pulling his body weightily from the bed and leaving her momentarily cold and empty so that he could retrieve the condom. This time, however, when he heaved his weight upward and moved to throw back the sheet, she wrapped her legs and arms impedingly around his body. This startled him, but when he searched her eyes for an answer, all he could find was a bashful and hazy plead to stay. And so he did.
"It'll be okay," he reassured her between soft kisses and nose rubs. He knew that, while some primitive thing inside her refused his leaving the bed, she was also reluctant to continue without that safety net that had always been present. She was scared. He kissed her eyes, summoning them to open.
"Hey," he whispered, "I can pull out if you want." She shook her head. It was a simple response, but it was weighed down with all of the explanations in the world. She smoothed her hands over his shoulder blades, kissing him there.
"No...no, don't do that."
"Are you sure?" She swallowed, nodding her head firmly. He knew that she was afraid, and that made him feel slightly disgusting. He craved the feeling of being inside her without limitations or barriers. During their 4 years together, he had never experienced that with her. She had not always been on birth control, and by the time she was, they were so accustomed to it that they had just never bothered to stop. It had become routine, so the thought of being inside her without it now made his heart flutter in anticipation and excitement. He still felt selfish, though, knowing the anxiety and conflict that it was stirring inside her. It was different for girls.
"I just want you to be happy," he said, finding that even he was unsure as to what he meant. He had meant to say "comfortable" or even "satisfied". Maybe those things hadn't been what he really meant, after all. He wanted her to be happy.
"I am," she stated simply, stroking his biceps and smiling into their next kiss. He let a hand roam down her body, still supporting his weight with the other. His fingers moved swiftly between the valley of her breasts and across the flat plane of her stomach. When it dipped down to the inevitable towards which it had been traveling all along, she arched her hips up into his hand.
Rarely had she been this eager, but it sent a numbed thrill of empowerment throughout his body. For as long as he could remember, she had been that unattainable entity that had always remained just barley out of reach. Even after she was his, he still looked up to her with a sense of wonderment in the fact that she was allowing him to be with her. Now, it seemed that the roles had changed, and he thrived off of it. This time was inexplicably different from the hundreds that had gone before it. Maybe it was the feeling of rebirth that came from newlywed sex.
She took his hand in hers, in that way that he loved, and pulled it towards herself as she shifted her hips forward to meet him. He delved in and out of her, all the while mesmerized by the way her face looked as the moonlight danced across her skin, and the entreating moans that were escaping her lips. God, her lips. He rediscovered them every few minutes. That had always been their way- his way. He would forget them momentarily, having devoted his attention elsewhere, but he always came back. He would never, in a million years, attempt describing those lips. Never.
"Ross- I need- please." Something else that he loved about her, and that never ceased to make him smile, was the way that she could never form complete sentences while making love. He always knew exactly what she meant, though.
He nodded, taking her lower lip between his teeth. With the most impossible level of careful ease, considering how fast his blood was pumping and how hard his heart was beating, he slid himself completely inside her.
Immediately, a dozen imaged bombarded his brain. This was something that he had trained himself to do, in hopes of temporarily taking his mind off of the impossible amount of pleasure and preventing any embarrassment for himself. The imagines seemed random, but he was sure that they had some relevance. They came to him in broken fragments of glass- like dreams that end one moment before you wake, and tauntingly teeter at the edge of your perception, just out of your consciousness' reach. An intersection in the middle of the night, glazed with rain and lonely because it's light continues to rotate, even in the absence of cars. A mirror, shattered on a limestone floor. The Central Perk couch, 1,000 years from forever ago, torn and ripped to shreds. Her face. It always came back to her face. She was always the last imagine in the cycle, and it was not until that moment that he realized it was because he was always opening his eyes.
Upon opening his eyes, he was taken aback by how small she was. Perhaps it was because, for that split second after one opens his eyes, he is completely unbiased to everything around him. His eyes have not yet had time to focus and reiterate into his mind what he wants to be seeing. Those first imagines after opening his eyes were the most honest, and honesty at that moment was telling him that she was tiny. He saw the look of twisted anguish on her face, and was horrified at the thought that he might actually be causing her pain.
"Am I hurting you?" he asked. He almost chuckled. That was generally something asked during the first time, which this was definitely not. He had only ever asked one girl that before, and that was Carol, upon losing her virginity to him. Asking it now, to Rachel, was surreal to say the least. She felt the displacement of the question, too, and smiled while letting out a whispered moan.
"No, Sweety. You're fine...I'm fine." He nodded, taking her answer as a sign, and picking up the pace at which he entered and exited her. She wrapped her legs more tightly around his waist, and he moved his hands to her thighs, raising up on his knees. He saw her fists clench tightly at the white, starched bed sheets. Her breathing and moaning increased, encouraging him more. It was a vicious cycle, and if it was not slowed, it would undoubtedly bring them to a premature end.
Deciding that the angle was too much, too soon, he lowered himself back down and supported his weight on bent elbows that he placed on either side of her head. He slowed the pace, moderating it and keeping in time with the kisses that he placed along her jaw and neck. She gripped his arms, then his shoulders, then slid her hands down his back, resting them finally at his waist. She couldn't believe how out of breath she was, nor how intense and fast all of this had been. That was what she wanted, though.
His motions were deep but slow, with a similar passion as would be expected from a Sunday afternoon encounter on the hardwood floor of an unfurnished, high-rise apartment. Somewhere along the way, it had begun raining. The steady beating of the raindrops against the window pane behind the bed reminded him of that deserted stoplight. He felt sad, but only until he realized that she was beneath him, and that he was all around her. He betrayed that stoplight with one fiery kiss to her lips, but he could not have cared less. Slowly, it faded from his mind, along with all of it's accompanying images. As they made their way back down the same dirt road from which they'd come, the feeling of utopian bliss that they'd been subsiding built rapidly and ferociously inside of him. With a few even strokes, he knew that it would be over soon.
"I can't-" she started, struggling for breath. "Not this way..." He didn't think that she was done speaking, but it didn't matter, because they were running a futile footrace against Father Time, and he needed her to happy before himself. That had been part of the pact that they'd forged that day- putting her before himself- and he fully intended to apply it to all aspects of their life together, starting now.
He rolled them over, scooting up the length of the bed on his back with her straddling his waist. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw her grasp the headboard of the bed, and that's when most of everything went to black. He heard her breath, hard and deep above him. He heard the repetition of the wooden bed frame taping rhythmically against the wall, and he almost hoped that no one was occupying the room beside theirs, until he realized that he didn't really care at all. He opened his eyes to see that his hands were caressing her sides and thighs, but as suspected, her skin was so soft that he could barely feel it. He saw in tones of navy and gray, with the occasional spark of silver, provoked by a moan or a whispered "I love you".
"Better?" he somehow managed. She nodded, keeping her eyes sealed tightly shut, and concentrating on something that would forever remain unknown to him. Whatever her stoplight was...
Her hips rocked forwards and backwards, up and down, and he just held on tightly and tried to keep up. Before he knew it, he heard the telltale hitch in her breath, followed shortly by a smothered scream. She collapsed on top of him, their breathing hard and struggling. He ran his hands up and down her sides until they came to rest on her lower back and hips. He looked into the still obscurity of the room, sure that the world around them must be different now. He was grounded and secretly comforted in finding that it was not.
"Sweety," he whispered. It was not really a question, but more of an inquisition as to whether she was still awake. She had not moved since it had ended. She answered him by moving her right hand up to his neck and running her fingernails lightly over his skin there. He smiled, fitting her more comfortably and tightly to his side. He kissed her forehead, knowing that they would not speak for the rest of the night, but also knowing that it was enough for them to just lay in silence.
With one hand and leg draped over his body, and her head laying on his chest, she drifted off to a peaceful slumber- one that could only be brought on by the calming lullaby of a new husband's rhythmic breathing.
End Chapter 14. Continued In Chapter 15.
