A/N: This was supposed to be a short 250–500 word elegy thingy of Jacob leaving a text about Lara for the future generations, but it didn't really catch on and yeah, I don't know what happened here, but this isn't that. You may notice. Also the first scene here has some similarities to the beginning of teaAlenko's "The Three Letters" (which you should defnitely check out if you already haven't at AO3!). I can't remember if I had read their fic before starting this (tells you a bit how long this process has been), so all honor for them to come up with letters and Lara helicopter-riding her way to the Gulag.^^
A MASSIVE Thank You to fanfic. addicted01 and Ceara Einin for working their magic with this fic!
Timeline-wise a stand-alone piece in a different AU.
P is for Pent
- Lara and Jacob remain pen pals for years after the events of ROTTR. This time Lara has taken some time to answer because she has gotten herself into a little bit of a bind. Maybe the Divine Source can help – or Jacob.
"So, how was the trip to Gabon?"
Lara looks at Jacob's latest letter for the 20th time before folding it back into the pocket of her expedition jacket. The reply has taken so long to write that she'll reach the Valley first – as long as the helicopter to the old Soviet Base doesn't crash – she isn't sure if she wishes that it would.
They have kept in regular contact since the fight against Trinity nearly eight years ago. And she has visited the Valley a few times, traveling with a shipment that she has sent for them in exchange for old artifacts and coins. The rebuilding of the Valley had been a painstaking job, but they are better equipped now, even with generators and radios to contact the outside world when necessary. Still, the letters have become something of a habit that she has relished.
Until now.
She shifts on the seat taking a cursory glance at the arctic forest under her and Nadia. She isn't sure if she wants to talk to Jacob in person either, but their banter has stayed over the years and grown into something more sincere, and she is running out of ways to fix her imperative problem at hand.
The Remnant scouts are surprised but happy to see her. She hasn't been here for over a year and a half, but she remembers Jacob's remark on her expeditions and how she'll find her place eventually like he said it to her yesterday. She thanks Nadia and helps the Remnants unpack the cargo onto their sleds, glad that she is finally among people who know what they are doing, organized with military efficiency but without the hierarchy.
"Jacob and Sofia will be glad to see you, Lara."
The journey through the newly opened mountain path is a test for her nerves. She can cover it; refraining from showing her discomfort – or her utmost need for relief – is second nature. So, she listens to the news about the Valley and reciprocates them with stories about the modern world.
Jacob is mildly surprised when she arrives at the upper village with the convoy. The reaction is probably her best achievement as of late. Whether Jacob's interest in her arrival is boosted or curbed by the radio silence, she doesn't know.
"I was getting worried," he simply jokes after exchanging greetings.
"Yeah…" She shrugs in an indecisive apology. She has gotten accustomed to two types of people: those who faint at her tales and those who think that nothing could take her down – Jacob has always been a fresh stage of normalcy.
Still, he can instantly read into how she doesn't outright deny the relevance of his worries, offering her an understanding nod before glancing at the crowd that has gathered to look at the new shipment.
"Can you manage?" he asks and stresses the words with a fleeting touch on her arm, signaling that they can leave all the commotion around them if needed.
"Later tonight." They wouldn't pass a dinner with each other anyway, and maybe she can stand a few more hours, no matter the quivers that his touch infuriates.
"So?"
For someone so old and thoughtful, she has always been attracted to how determined Jacob becomes when he is worried or trying to protect the others around him. She feels painfully transparent with him compared to the distance that she usually manages to keep with people. She has acquired people into her life over the years and they are dear to her, but she met Jacob in a raw stage of her life: when her heart was less skillfully guarded.
"So." She buys herself time and ambles around the cabin to see if he has done any changes. The typewriter is new, but she knew to expect it as it had been her gift.
She turns to look at Jacob and his eyebrows that are waiting for her story. He must have deduced that she isn't too fatally injured if she has the energy to stall. She tilts her head in exasperation and lets Jacob use the gesture to go and put a kettle on the fire. However, she finds it impossible to sit down calmly, "I ended up biting more than I could chew in Gabon," she eventually forces out with self-deprecation.
As expected, Jacob calmly turns to look at her, no doubt already having figured out as much and hums.
She opens her mouth but closes it again. She has practiced this in the dead of the night on her flight to Russia but it is as difficult – and as embarrassing – as it was in her imagination. She chastises herself because Jacob is over a thousand years old, has never judged her, and has probably seen so many unbelievable things over the years that she is just a speck in the ocean. And he won't tease her for this if it would bother her – at least, she hopes he wouldn't.
"I can't come," she finally states. Her clarification gets stuck in her throat long enough for Jacob to nod her to continue with a tiny furrow in his brows. "...As in I'm unable to have an orgasm."
She can see the gears trying to turn in his head and how his eyes move rapidly trying to read the story behind this. And no matter how victorious she would normally feel after accomplishing the rare feat of surprising him, it doesn't do her any good now.
"There was a witch doctor. Ancient cupid shit on making people find their mate. A gift they said. Basically, I cannot have an orgasm until with the right person. I don't know how powerful your Divine Source is, but I hope it's strong enough to break age-old curses."
Jacob's suppressed smile becomes less and less suppressed as her story continues, and by the end, he is openly battling a chuckle that tries to escape him with the predicament she has managed to get herself into. He is blessed enough to try to take it in a professional manner but fails.
"This isn't funny. It might have been an interesting scientific question two months ago, but I'm quite past that stage."
Jacob brushed his hand through his hair with his eyes still twinkling, probably thanks to the unbelievability she always manages to bring with her. "So, you cannot?"
"Not by myself, not by a random date, not by toys." She sighs from the bottom of her lungs and fights to keep the embarrassment off her face and her arms from crossing over her chest. Luckily, the embarrassment is disappearing with each word that she uses to pour out the frustration that she has carefully nurtured since Gabon. "The doctor said it's psychological, but I've seen weirder stuff governed by deities and old artifacts."
"Or a curse..."
"That's the story I'm sticking with," she argues and raises her right hand pointlessly in the air.
Jacob mulls over her words in silence, taking a seat by the kitchen table. "And you cannot even-"
"By my own hand? You think that I haven't tried?" For a second, they are in their old banter territory, and she takes pleasure in how Jacob is more affected by her words than her.
Yep, she is so deep that the embarrassment is the least of her problems.
"And you think the Divine Source can help?"
She raises both hands. "Better ideas? The spell was invented at a time when the population of the world was a fraction of what it is today. I'll die before finding the right person by sex alone." And she isn't really interested in sleeping with random people for years to come. She tried that briefly in college and she doesn't miss that stage of her life.
Jacob makes a face at her words that she cannot fully decipher – and she isn't sure if she'd even want to, leaving the two of them to sit in a stalemate.
With much more tranquility than she feels, Jacob eventually pulls the leather bag out of his belt and latches the door while she goes to lie down on the spare bed that these days operates as a sofa as Sofia lives in her own home.
"Did you manage to anger them?"
"I didn't anger anyone. I returned their old relic to them," she argues back from the bed and watches Jacob take the powder into his hands.
"And they are still alive?"
She glares at him because she doesn't kill everyone who crosses her path, she would have now, but… "It's quite difficult when they materialize into an actual body only once in fifty years."
Jacob is unable to suppress his laugh much to her annoyance, or maybe it's her embarrassment creeping back, – her feelings are too jumbled for her to make sense of them with her lying on her back in front of him, the zip of her pants open and her Henley pulled upwards to bare her stomach, and waiting for Jacob to touch her.
"You trust that this will work through your lower stomach?"
"I hope."
"So, you've become a believer," he has the audacity to joke before doing what her nerves have tried to prepare themselves for the entire conversation: placing his hand on her skin.
Despite her feelings, she waits patiently when Jacob keeps his hand on her. "Sorry for bringing this up on you. I just didn't know how to put it in a letter."
"Do not. I was curious about the lack of response, but I must admit that I do find it pleasant that you still manage to surprise me. Not many are as effortlessly capable in that after so many years."
Jacob lifts his hand, but a pondering look stays on his face.
"Did you feel a change?"
"No. But it still might have worked." She truly hopes so at least despite knowing that her experiences with the Source are more limited.
"Might," Jacob agrees annoyingly lightly and regards her silently, mercifully opting to keep new jokes to himself in the end.
She pulls her shirt back down and moves to sit up, similarly unsure how to approach the subject. They are both adults, but still, she cannot deny that Jacob has always had a different air around him. She wasn't immune to it the first time they met, but she was too focused on the Divine Source back then to think about relationships. On the few times that she has visited here, while the tension has clearly been there, she has never stayed long enough that people with as guarded hearts as theirs could make something happen.
"Let me know if it didn't work."
Maybe this was just another Monday in his long life.
"Believe me, it'll be obvious." But she cannot be that brusque after not having seen him for so long. She hadn't managed it when her trust in people had been at its lowest point and she hadn't even known him, she certainly cannot do it now. Moreover, it would be an admittance of how badly the situation is affecting her, and Lara Croft holds her head up high in light of peril. "So, how are you?"
Jacob laughs openly again at her change of topic and looks at her fondly while sitting back down. "Fine, the restoration is going well. You must truly care to have the patience to ask."
She buries her face briefly in her hands and holds back a sigh, feeling slightly less restless than in the last couple of weeks. She knows that it'd be pointless to admit her care because Jacob already knows her sympathy towards the Remnants based on the shipments that she has handled throughout the years. Thus, she settles for an agreeing sound from the back of her throat and shares his sad smile. She feels strangely at home, albeit a bit like a guest after her long absence, but there is no denying of the pull that the Geothermal Valley has to her.
They exchange stories and news for a little while before Jacob ushers her out with the notion that she'll have time to be courteous later on. He gives her directions to an unhoused cave near the South-Eastern mountains. She waves goodbye and welcomes the chance not to have to work on herself in his living room in the middle of the night.
The cave is smaller than the one where she had slept on her first trip to Siberia. It's clearly used by hunters and scouts as a backup shelter for bad weather. For her, it's just the right size to light up the stove and make a tiny corner with hides.
She wastes no time in unzipping her pants and getting to work.
However, after an hour, it's clear that even if the Divine Source can bring people back from the brink of death, it is powerless to give her the relief her body graves for. Drops of sweat run on her skin and she is taking heavy, controlled breaths through her mouth, trying to block out the smell and feel of the hides against her skin on the hard floor.
She is very much ready to make a notice of defect on the stupid shard of crystal in her heightened frustration.
She is closer, she can feel that much, but it's not enough to push her over the edge the literal fucking-curse has left her trapped on.
Defeated, she draws her fingers out and stares at the wetness on them with a sigh.
To make matters worse, she will have to make this known to Jacob. Theoretically, it's just a physical problem – would be, if not for the pull between them.
She isn't sure what she's running away from.
True, she keeps everyone at arm's reach even after the years and having overcome most of her past hardships. Jacob is just… a lot. He isn't someone who can't keep up with her, instead, he is someone who has slowed down for her to catch up with him. And now, she'll have to face her feelings and become vulnerable.
And of course, if it's not Jacob, then she is properly screwed.
She treks back to the upper village as the sun is rising above the horizon. Her steps are brisk despite the nervousness that is trying to hold her back. Fortunately, she won't have to stand awkwardly behind Jacob's front door, wavering whether to knock and be done with it, because he is already outside coming back from washing the dishes in the communal wash basin.
He looks at her expectantly once he notices her. She strides to his house before him without a word; he should be able to read how her night went based on her steps alone.
"No luck?" He asks with maddening calmness when he closes the door after them.
"Your Source is faulty," she states back, eyes closed when she slumps on the sofa.
"It's been some time since I've heard anyone utter those words."
She opens her eyes to glare at him softly before sobering and shaking her head.
Jacob is as accustomed to her, as accustomed as he is to reading anybody, and simply takes his seat next to her, all too close for her to smell him, the forest, the earth, and the animal skins – primitive like the void inside her.
"That bad?" He inquires gently.
She closes her eyes again and tries to take a deep breath through her nose. Maybe it would be better if she hadn't tried everything that she could think of to push herself over the edge over the past three months, leaving her a mess of nerves. "Not my favorite state of mind."
They sit in silence for over five minutes.
"What are you afraid of?" However, Jacob's quiet words appear a bit comical as they come out slightly strangled from his throat.
She presses her eyes closed again at the sound of his voice, regretting deeply of last night and her stubbornness that is now making her so affected by his proximity. But there is nothing she can do – she has tried – so she is forced to relent. "I'm not past my adventurer stage."
It's not a happy nor a sad admission, but the truth she cannot – wouldn't – change.
Jacob simply hums agreement. "I would say, it's rare that people like you ever truly will be." She can hear him turn his head towards her based on the direction of his voice. "Would you need to be?"
The need is relentless inside of her, calling her, luring her, but she fights not to be at its mercy. "Maybe," and this time she opens her eyes to glance at him from the corner of her eyes.
Jacob looks all too calm next to her, all too understanding.
"Relationships are different," he offers. "Unique as the people in them. I doubt that there is a right pattern on how to do things."
She makes an indistinct voice at the back of her throat: if it would only be that simple.
Neither one of them says how the sex doesn't have to mean anything. They have enough history between them, and they trust each other. He would willingly help her with this, and it wouldn't have to change everything. But they both also know that the only thing keeping them away from each other is their lack of courage to bring up the issue, fearful of their heart and the baggage they would bring into the mix.
But it's not a choice anymore. She has gotten herself into another fine mess and the chance to waver has been taken away from her – and subsequently from the both of them. Of course, she can spend her years in forced chastity but it's an unbearable thought. She doesn't know if he has tried abstinence at some point of his religious past, but she isn't ready for it – especially not now when the choice has been taken away from her and her orgasm is just another mission to beat. She cannot close her eyes from challenges that wink at her from the other side of the planet, there is no way she could ignore the one burning inside of her.
They eye each other for a long while, searching for the shared conclusion.
"You don't have to do this," she says using his motto. "No matter how responsible you feel for your people. Even your healing should have its limits."
Jacob huffs a quiet laugh but doesn't take his eyes away from her. "I believe that there aren't many others for whom I'd be doing this – not that many would end up in this situation in the first place."
This time it's her turn to snort at his humor, but eventually, she arduously lets her vulnerability trickle through to the surface before nodding at Jacob.
Nothing else is needed between them; Jacob gets up to lock the door and close the shutters in his bedroom while she stands awkwardly in the middle.
"Do you still want to try the Divine Source first?"
She rolls her eyes tiredly at his words. "Fuck the Source." The powder might help, but her instincts tell her that what she needs is closer, more alive and caring than the beguiling piece of crystal.
Jacob looks at her with a hint of amusement on his lips; it's not probably every day when he hears those words either.
Jacob's bedroom is not big by any means, but it is cozy despite its simplicity. His life and task might be outside of the house, but it's clear that the small space is only for him. A chest, probably full of knick knacks that he has wanted to keep. A few extra hides to bring warmth to the place, and a lonely oil lamp. There isn't much, and on the surface, it would be easy to categorize it as impersonal but somehow, it's all very private. She is even more hesitant now that she is in his space: seeing him vulnerable.
Jacob moves to throw two extra hides away from the bed to make room and she moves to unzip her pants. She has performed the action more times than she can count over the past few months, always frustrated and vigorous, but now her fingers feel less nimble.
She pulls her trousers off but doesn't bother with her shirt. She can hear Jacob's smile and she turns to regard him in the middle of a waver on whether to just take her underpants off already.
"Always the utilitarian," he comments with warmth in his tone and earning a shy smile from her.
She disregards her underwear and finds herself a seat on his bed.
It's not that warm in the small room – yet – and she can feel the air on her bare legs. Maybe they should kiss; she doesn't know. On some level, she wants to maintain the professionalism that she is just another person to be healed by him even if the method is a little nonconformist. Moreover, neither of them is that good with opening their heart, emotions, and all that stuff that the kiss would signal. The idea of simply having an orgasm is much more straightforward, a mission with an end, whereas kissing is for fun, a pastime.
Jacob, it appears, is much more old-fashioned than her when he kneels in front of her and begins to caress her thigh to gauge her feelings. He doesn't merely stare at her eyes to read her, and instead, follows how her skin reacts to his thumb, how her instincts expand her lungs towards her stomach to get more air for what's to come.
He is vulnerable, too, she can tell from his eyes alone, but whereas she is always fighting against the world and fate, he has learned to accept things as they come, and resign himself to the course of time.
Maybe he doesn't need to fight it as much because he is already above it.
"Jacob…" She isn't sure if she is already pleading, checking his certainty for one last time, or voicing her fear of what will happen to them after this.
Maybe he hears all that because he rises to bring his lips to hers. It's just a touch, barely there but sending an instant electric shock through her body. And maybe it's the panic that he might pull out, might just decide not to have anything to do with her troublesome ass ever again, that she clutches the hand on her thigh, like a drowning person grasping for a raft. And at that moment, she knows that she is showing everything she has tried to confine inside her. She needs him – needs him like a lifeline in the world where she has learned to make do with the bare necessities. She is self-sufficient, has been for as long as she can remember because, at the end of the day, she'll always find herself alone.
But now she isn't.
Jacob smiles softly at her reaction and kisses her deeper this time, letting them savour the sensations of the scars on their lips meeting and creating unique friction.
It only aggravates the need inside her, and after a moment, she needs to pull away if she wants to retain her sanity.
There is warm amusement in Jacob's eyes, but she can read it: he doesn't know how he has managed to meet someone like her, how with all the hardships – past and those to come – the world simultaneously has something so wonderful in it.
He truly is just a raft in the flow of time, thankful for the calm moments that he is gifted with.
They both lean back for a moment to regain a bit more control before Jacob starts to massage her thigh in slow circles, moving closer to her lower stomach and waiting for her to open her legs.
"Contraception?"
She taps her left arm. "Implant."
Jacob smiles as if he should have known that she was always prepared for everything. In the end, he only nods soberly at her words.
By some unvoiced agreement, they'll still first try with his fingers alone, to give the world the last chance not to open their hearts to this.
Her breath hitches by its own accord when his fingers reach the soft fold between her thigh and lower-stomach. And she cannot take it, no matter of her blushing, so she uses his inquiring gaze for her benefit and moves to lie down on her back on the hides. He follows slowly to sit on the edge of the bed.
She eyes him intently. The arousal is there, coursing straight through her body and echoing into her nipples that are still concealed by her sports bra and shirt. Yet, it's terribly intimate, vulnerable, to be on her back like an animal submitting in battle. She could take him – easily – Divine Source or not, but she never stops like this to be at someone's mercy, giving them an upper hand towards her.
Jacob can probably sense her thoughts because his hand travels in a wider circle again on her lower body and too far away from where her instincts crave him.
But, he does slowly get there when he reads that she is ready for it.
She is so wet, and has been for the last month when she has needed an extra glass of water a day not to get dehydrated by the unmet need. When Jacob's thumb carefully finally finds her lower lips, it's slick, soft. She doesn't know whether it's her hesitancy or arousal that shows on her face, but whatever it is, it makes Jacob lean down and kiss her again.
She loves every second of it, tangling her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, and for a moment she wishes that his fingers won't be enough. She needs – wants – all of him.
But she can't say that out loud. She may be pushed close to her breaking point, but she never surrenders when the world corners her.
She is also never one to stay still, but rarely, is she the one to squirm like when Jacob slowly enters a finger in her and he finally, finally, finally, finds her clit with the tip of his thumb. The electric current is blinding and travels like a whip right to her consciousness through her nerve endings.
And still, it's not enough, leaving her on the prolonged edge that is much higher than she has managed to reach herself.
Now, she is properly moving, back arching to get closer, almost kicking, trying to grasp the hide under her, because her body is desperate for something to ground her and give her relief.
When Jacob adds a second finger inside her, it's all too much and all too little. It takes her a moment to realize that he is gently calling her name.
"Not working," she mumbles: more coherent words leaving her mouth than she remembers knowing.
It has to work. It just has to. Because there is no way that he can help her reach these depths and not release her. And for a moment there is genuine, heartfelt fear that what if she is left in this state without a single lucid thought.
And she is done caring for Jacob's virtue when she fumbles on the bed to reach the waistline of his pants.
He gently stops her though, and her head finds the crook of his neck when he pulls her close.
It was like a place made for her.
"Please." Her voice sounds too heartfelt even to her own ears but it's only in line with the undertone in Jacob's pale eyes. And that brings her to care despite the ravaging obsession inside her, throbbing in her lower stomach. He is still holding her, has never let go for a second, but he is apprehensive, second-guessing whether this is smart, if he'll be enough, not just in this, but in life.
Her hand grasps fruitlessly at his shirt and some of the heat evaporates by their eye contact alone. "I'm sorry," she murmurs against his collarbone and lets herself linger in the scent of forests and musk for a moment longer before trying to pull back.
"Lara…"
"No, you're right–," she starts but Jacob's arms tighten around her lower back and there is an extra tenderness where his fingers caress her. His fingers are still slightly damp when sweeping his hand on the hide hadn't wiped out all her wetness.
The feeling makes her skin tingle as she tries to read his gaze.
His other hand moves to touch her face with the same level of intimacy that her hand is stroking his side underneath his shirt, "You deserve the world, Lara."
She never wants to see the apology on his face again.
"I've had the world. Twice. Didn't care for it." She plants her lips gently on his cheek, letting his beard caress her senses.
He snorts softly at her words but ends up pulling back to shake his head, eyes full of emotion.
"Are you sure about this? Tomorrow? Outside the curse?" He asks with the characteristic tint of amusement that he seems to reserve for her and her antics alone, moving his forehead to rest on her temple.
She shifts, sitting almost fully in his lap now with her bared bottom. "I don't know. But I trust you. And I know that I'm ready to do everything so that you can trust me."
"I do trust you," Jacob breathes against her temple before pulling back to look her in the eye, "from the very start."
"Then I'm sure if you are." And not a moment too soon as her eyes close on their own accord at the arousal.
They are actually going to do this.
He answers her with a kiss, and the need that she has managed by some divine miracle to keep fenced in during their discussion is back with vengeance. She moves to get a better access to his lips and she can feel the wet stains that she has left on his trousers.
Trousers that are imperative to get off from him. Now.
The Remnants are famous for their buckles and craftsmanship, but she is thanking the heavens that Jacob prefers the more modern trousers that are kept up with a simple knot.
She gives him a moment to get up and undress himself.
The sight of him, half-hard already and with a fainly bashful smile on his face makes her lonely on the bed and her fingers wander to her aching clit, searching and more desperate than she would allow.
"I thought we already established that that won't work."
She shoots him an unimpressed glare but leans back on the bed again, calling for him to get to work then.
He does.
He sets to caress her lower stomach and thighs again while his other hand stretches her; it's still only fingers though even if they feel much better than her own. And she groans, whether out of euphoria or frustration, she isn't sure. There is very little that she is certain of at this stage as the need for an orgasm overpowers her like it was furiously trying to make up for the delay.
Jacob could be just anyone. And at the same time, he is not. He has more than one thousand years' worth of experience: so much knowledge and wisdom. Something uniquely spectacular that she wouldn't – couldn't – change for anything less. And he cares for her, faults and all, unfazed even when she drops onto his doorstep with an ancient curse from the other side of the planet.
The whimper leaves her mouth when his fingers hit a particularly sweet spot on the front wall.
Jacob must spot it too as his fingers purposefully repeat the curl a second later.
And again, which forces him to use his elbows to keep her thighs from pressing in and hindering his work.
Jacob uses his other hand to circle closer to her clit and rub it tightly for a few times. She squirms on the bed under his academic, penetrating, and all too amused gaze.
He is so, so good, but his touch is only maddening close to a mental breakdown and doesn't help her beyond it to blissful euphoria.
Jacob seems to come to the same conclusion, or then he is just blessed enough to show her some mercy. "Not enough?"
She confirms his assumption in the brief moment of clarity when Jacob slowly pulls his fingers out of her.
She is so hot with too much arousal and too little air into her lungs. The glorious few breaths make her dimly aware of her shirt and bra sticking onto her skin with their restrictiveness.
This small freedom is easier to accomplish even if the sleeves fight unforgivingly against her preoccupied mind. Jacob crouches closer to her with his delicious body and helps her free herself from the garments with a soft chuckle, making her faintly appreciate the muscles that are normally hidden under his clothes.
She mumbles her thanks when the cool air hits her bare skin.
Jacob responds by leaning to place his lips the side of her neck, just below the ear and she knows that when this is over, she'll want so much more. She'll taste every scar he has and trace every curve of his body. And purely by his scent alone, she knows that he'll taste of the Valley in all its seasonal glory from wet soil and budding flowers to the autumn leaves.
"Are you sure, Lara?"
He was such a charmer without meaning to.
"I'm sure we should have done this years ago," she stresses with a nod. She quickly pulls him closer with a smile to stop him from worrying for her a second longer, because she was more than acutely aware of the pecking order of her interests.
Jacob answers with a sweet lingering kiss that turns more intense with a shared effort.
She grasps his wide back and leans her head closer to his shoulder when Jacob lines himself to bring their hips together.
It's clear that the stretching was not just to awaken his own arousal but to prepare her. He isn't too wide to hurt, but with their size difference alone, enough to make her see stars when he enters her in one controlled and careful movement, making her hook her legs around him to pull him deeper.
She knows that she shouldn't, but she still squeezes him closer like an epitome of salvation, making him grunt and give a pained half-of-a-chuckle against her ear, his beard tickling the side of her jaw.
"You need to let me move, Lara."
Her body screams for having him inside her, hard and hot, and she hates to let that go but she still isn't coming no matter how her vision is becoming a white hazy mess. Moving means letting him push inside her again, and thus more pleasure, and that is something her body can agree to as she needs this, she needs him.
Her other hand tangles in his hair while her other hand searches for his chest and back. She wants to learn all about him, what makes him tick, where he is the most sensitive.
Right now, she just wants to come with his weight on top of her.
There is a learning curve in their teamwork, but she misses it entirely, reacting purely by instinct. But based on the depth of his kisses and how his hands roam to map her breasts to his memory, so does he.
His thrusts are swift and deep, making her toes curl and her lungs gasp for air.
She tightens around him to return the pleasure because he is so incredibly perfect.
And she is right there on the edge that seems to have no end.
"I probably need to come," Jacob states with a restrained tone.
Wrong, she needs to come. But her muddled brain does understand his words after a battle, making her try and find his sweet spot with her hands and lips to help the curse to break with Jacob inside her.
Had she ever been more desperate in her search than now?
Despite that it feels like the marathon before the finish line, in the end, it doesn't take much more for Jacob, because it's been some time for him as well.
The last of her vision and mind tilts on the same second he comes inside her.
And it's heaven, it must be, and it only makes sense cause he is the Prophet.
But most importantly, at the last second before her brain stops working altogether, she registers the otherworldly click. It's no different from raising the Silver Key from its place or having the dark Venetian mask placed on her face, and it's a feeling that she has learned to notice well.
There is a hand massaging her right shoulder and someone calling her name when her eyes flutter for the first time.
She doesn't want to care, though. It's all white, and so terribly, terribly, soft. She is floating, not the fall out of an airplane type, but the peaceful one, the one that reminds her of something long forgotten. And she is not burning anymore, instead, there is wonderful coolness on her skin from the evaporating sweat.
"Lara…"
There is a hint of worry in the tone he is calling her with, and despite that everything in her feels better than it has for months – possibly years – something whispers to her that she doesn't want him to worry and that if Jacob is worried, then she should heed to that.
She squints her eyes and grimaces at the morning light that enters the room through the cracks in the window shutters.
"Lara."
He sounds very relieved this time and she hums her reply before forcing out a more distinctive sound to prod him to continue.
Jacob carefully pushes her messy fringe out of her face. "Are you okay?"
It takes her a moment to analyze each word and their order in her head because the question, nor the worry that accompanies it, makes no sense with how she is feeling. She forces her eyes open only to find Jacob kneeling next to the bed, looking at her with great concern.
He is still naked from the waist up, but she can see in his posture how he has been ready to bolt out of the door to get the physician.
"Never better." She tries to smile but it doesn't convince him. It's unfortunate how often she has overused that sentence in the past without true heart because this time she means it. "What happened?"
He follows how she moves her hand to push herself up but she gives up on the gesture almost immediately as if she was glued on the hides. "You lost consciousness."
Her memory is a little blotchy but based on how she feels, the assessment seems plausible. She could easily succumb to sleep now. But he is still looking too apprehensive and guilty. "Sorry, for making you worry," she mumbles but her gaze is more than warm. "Just short-circuited there."
Okay, maybe she shouldn't have let herself get that carried away. Jacob is always looking after everybody and her becoming unresponsive at their first time having sex will stay with him at least for a little while.
"Want to sleep for a few hours?" She murmurs and snuggles her head better against the short fur of the hides. "Please?"
Eventually, Jacob stops measuring her condition, nods, and climbs over to lie down next to her.
It's nearly impossible to find the energy to turn to face him and she is thankful when he pulls one of the hides to cover her better, always mindful of her well-being.
She isn't sure if it is too much to nuzzle closer to him but she'll think of that with a fresh mind later on. Right now, she goes with the intuition that he is the 'let's go stargazing together' or 'have a quiet dinner by the fire' -type of man. Someone who is scared of mucking up all the important things in his life. And she is feeling phenomenal, content, and at home. But, at the moment, she needs sleep to regain her energy and form a plan. Because curses in play or not, Jacob has made her lose consciousness in bed, and she can't have him be the only one to hold that record.