Homecoming
Summary: Bronwyn arrives home from the hospital and she and Jones take their relationship to a new level of intimacy. WARNING: sexually descriptive scenes, not offensive, just graphic (and hopefully a little erotic). You have been warned.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Matrix or any of its characters as portrayed in the movies. I also do not own any rights to the movies I refer to. (See if you can guess what they are—you get TWO cookies if you can guess correctly. :-)
Bronwyn sighed with relief when the door to her apartment closed behind her. It's so good to be home, she thought tiredly. She ran her hand over her stomach happily.
"Don't give me a scare like that again, little one, all right?"
"And don't you give me a scare like that either," Jones said, coming up behind her carrying the overnight bag that she had wanted packed for her during her stay at the hospital.
The week that she had been there were some of the worst days he could ever remember. He had hardly left Bronwyn's side; not only because he had told Mickey that he would, but also because he had wanted to. Not wanting to add to her stress level, Jones had not told her that Smith had not only tried relentlessly to see her, but had slipped under his guard and succeeded in visiting her, if only for a minute or two.
She does not need to know that, now or ever, Jones decided to himself. She had enough to worry about as it is, with collapsing in the mall during her confrontation with Smith and almost losing the baby as a result. She is home, safe and sound, and that's what is most important.
"I'm just going to change and then we can watch a DVD. Could you pick out something for us?" she asked.
Jones nodded as Bronwyn yawned and headed for her bedroom. Jones knelt down in front of her entertainment center and glanced idly over the titles of Bronwyn's collection of DVD's and his mouth tightened in anger as he finally let go of the self-control he had forced himself to maintain for Bronwyn's sake. This is all Smith's fault, he thought furiously. None of this would have happened if it hadn't been for him.
Because of Smith and his sudden re-emergence in her life, Bronwyn looked drawn and haggard. Jones had been shaken at her altered appearance and manner when he was finally allowed to see her after her admittance. Bronwyn was overwrought and afraid and she had begged Jones to remain in her room with her.
"Don't leave me here alone, Jones, please," she said, clutching him by the wrist and not letting go. He saw the terrified look in her eyes at the thought of remaining in the hospital, and that decided the matter for him.
"I'm not going anywhere, Bronwyn," he said, softly. "Can I stay with her?" he asked Dr. Yade.
Dr. Yade pondered what was best for her patient. "You may stay for a while, Mr. Jones, but she needs her rest."
When Dr. Yade saw Bronwyn to check on her progress just before she left for home, it was close to midnight. Dr. Yade slowly opened the door to Bronwyn's room and was startled to see Jones lying in her bed with her in his arms. It was against hospital policy to allow this, and for a few moments, Dr. Yade considered having Jones removed from the premises. However, she could see for herself that Bronwyn was sleeping peacefully; and she decided to leave things as they were and closed the door to the room.
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Jones looked at Bronwyn when she returned. "I wasn't sure what you wanted to watch, so I picked out a few to choose from."
Bronwyn put all the movies he had chosen into her multi-disc DVD player. She looked at one title in particular and laughed softly. "Why did you pick this one? Did you think it was a documentary or something?" she asked, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
He smiled a little sheepishly. "Sort of. Would you prefer something else?"
Bronwyn shook her head. "I could use a good laugh after the week I've had, believe me. No, we'll watch that one you picked about those guys in black suits who protect the earth from the scum of the universe."
She settled down on the sofa with a blanket and lay down so that her head was resting on Jones' leg when he sat beside her, using it for a pillow and hit "play" on her DVD remote. She was asleep by the time the new recruit in the movie was assisting in the birth of an alien squid-like creature.
When the movie was over, Bronwyn was sound asleep. Jones debated whether to carry her to her bed or to let her remain where she was, but decided that rest was what she needed the most now, and if she had found comfort, and perhaps security in sleeping against him, then who was he to argue with that?
The next movie was one in which a lone cop is fighting terrorists who have taken over on office building, as well as the employees who were inside. They were celebrating their office Christmas party and taken hostage while the terrorists try to open a computerized vault on the 30th floor of the building.
Just as the Irish-American cop/hero of the movie leapt off the roof of the building with a fire hose tied around his waist before the roof is blown up, Bronwyn woke up. Immediately, Jones turned down the volume.
"Was it too loud?" he asked.
"No, it's all right, Jones. You can turn the volume up if you want. I like this movie too." She sat up and they watched the rest of the movie together.
"What's the next one?" she asked, stretching and yawning.
"Maybe you should go to bed now...?" Jones suggested. Bronwyn scoffed.
"I did nothing but lie in that damn hospital bed for a week. I'm sick to death of even the thought of it, to be honest."
"What did you want to do, then?" he asked.
Bronwyn hesitated to answer. There is something that I would rather be doing right now with you, Jones, she thought, but I don't know if you feel the same. You and I have gotten so close over the last little while; I'm sure that taking the next logical step in our relationship has crossed your mind at some point, even though you haven't said anything about it.
Could you be waiting for me to make the first move, she wondered, looking into his eyes.
"Jones?" Bronwyn asked her voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes?"
She hesitated before answering, a thousand thoughts raced through her mind: What if he says no? What if he laughs? What if he is repulsed by the very idea? What if he doesn't feel the same way about me? She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
"Will you make love to me?"
He took her face in his hands and brought her face upwards so he could look into her eyes. "Bronwyn, are you sure?"
She nodded slowly and a tear of relief trickled down her cheek. Jones leaned down and gently kissed it away, tasting it.
Tears are salty, he realized. I never knew that.
He raised her chin slowly, and infinitesimally slowly, he brought his lips to her own. Jones had never kissed anyone before, male or female, and the sensation of that intimate touch as well as the honeyed taste of her mouth raced through him. He had thought about kissing her for so long, what it would be like to hold her like this that the actual act itself went far beyond his wildest expectations and when he felt her tongue insinuate against his teeth until he parted them and her tongue teased his own.
Jones groaned deeply as he intensified their kiss, experiencing a definite surge in enjoyable sensations as he did so. For her part, Bronwyn answered his passion with her own. She, too, had wanted to do this since the night of her nightmare when she awoke and found herself enveloped in Jones' strong embrace.
Bronwyn heard Jones groan when she pulled away. "Maybe we should go into the bedroom?" she suggested, "there's more room for us there."
He nodded and swept her up in his arms. He carried to her bedroom and shortly afterward, she felt herself being gently deposited on the bed while Jones stretched out beside her.
He started tugging at his tie, trying to loosen it when he felt Bronwyn's hands hold his own.
"Let me," she whispered, and it didn't take long for her to complete the task. Slowly, she unbuttoned his shirt, kissing more of his chest that every undone button revealed. Bronwyn pulled his shirt up until it came free from being tucked into his pants. With a smoldering look in her eyes, Bronwyn ran her hands over Jones' torso, liking very much what she saw and felt under her fingertips. He was strongly made and broad shouldered; the muscles from his pectorals and abdomen clearly defined and covered with russet hair she didn't hesitate to run her fingers over and through, eliciting a groan of pleasure from her companion.
Jones kissed her hungrily, savoring everything from the taste of her mouth, to feeling a little exposed with his shirt off; so he repeated her actions by unbuttoning the buttons on her dress, reveling in seeing her creamy fair flesh for the first time. He nuzzled the sensitive area between her neck and shoulder, and was rewarded for his actions when he heard a deep sigh of pleasure from Bronwyn's lips.
In short order, all the buttons that went down the entire front of her dress were undone and she lay back on the bed, now wearing only her underwear. She blushed deeply when she saw him looking at her, as Jones leaned on one elbow.
"There isn't much to see, I'm afraid." She ran her hand over her distended belly. "Or maybe too much. I am getting kind of fat, you know."
"I'll be the judge of that," he murmured and ran his fingertips over the straps of her bra and let them fall from one shoulder, then another. He eased Bronwyn onto her back, but not before he snaked his hands around her and undid the clasp, then removed her bra completely.
She whimpered with longing when he caressed first one breast, then another, before he lowered his head so he could take one rosy, plump nipple in his mouth and gently suckle her. A loud moan escaped her lips and her hand caressed the back of his head. Her breathing quickened as his lips and tongue awakened emotions and feelings in her that she had thought were gone forever; she felt alive again.
Jones stopped this sweet torment and it took Bronwyn a little time to start breathing normally again.
"Two can play that game, you know," she said slyly. "Lie back on the bed."
Jones did as he was instructed and waited with anticipation to see what she had in mind. She got to her knees and kneeled by his side.
"You are wearing far too many clothes," she chided him. "But I think we can fix that." Bronwyn ran her fingernails lightly down Jones' body from his shoulders to his flat stomach, where she began to remove his belt. By chance or perhaps by design, her fingers brushed against his groin, and he gasped when she did so.
After the belt had been removed, she turned her attention to the waistband of his pants and with infinite and agonizing, slowness undid his zipper and she stroked his very hard and very erect penis through the thin material of his silk boxers.
Now it was Jones' turn to moan. To assist Bronwyn who was trying to strip off his pants, he reached down and did it for her, taking his shorts off as well, until he was completely naked on her bed.
With one quick movement, he put his arms around Bronwyn and they rolled over together as one, with Bronwyn underneath him.
"Now you are the one wearing too many clothes," he breathed in her ear, while his hands were cupping her buttocks, pulling her closer so that she could feel for herself what the touch of her hands and skin against his did to him. However, beneath his own desire and longing, Jones could feel that Bronwyn was trembling; because of either fear or her own needs, he didn't know.
Immediately, he rolled onto his side and held her face in his hands. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you or the baby?" he asked, anxiously. I wish I knew more about pregnant women, he thought. Is she too far along for us to be doing this?
"No, you didn't hurt me," she reassured him. "You didn't do anything wrong at all. Quite the opposite," Bronwyn said, grinning and blushing.
"But I felt you shaking."
"I know. It's just that I'm a little nervous, that's all."
"About what?" When she was silent, he pressed her for an answer. "Please tell me, Bronwyn."
"Well, it's our first time together. And the last time I was with a man, it was...."
"Smith. I know. But I'm not like him, Bronwyn; you must realize that by now. I won't hurt you. Ever. If you change your mind about tonight, about us being together like this, I'll understand."
She nodded, unable to answer immediately for the lump that rose in her throat. "Thank you, Jones. And no, I'm not changing my mind, you big lug." Grateful beyond words for his consideration, she brought her lips to his in a passionate kiss, which he responded to eagerly. He broke off their kiss after a few moments and asked, "Bronwyn, before this goes any further, I, um, have to ask you something."
"What is it?"
"Should we—you—even be doing this? Making love, I mean? You are so far along; I don't know if we should--?"
Bronwyn smiled. "I asked my obstetrician about that," she said, blushing until her face was a deep shade of pink, "and she said we can make love up until my ninth month or until it gets uncomfortable. She even gave me a book on different positions, too."
Jones tried not to smile when he saw that even her ears were red. "With pictures? That sounds interesting. Very interesting," he said and smiled lewdly, waggling his eyebrows at her.
"You are impossible, you know that?" she said, grinning, before she became serious. "Let's just go slow, okay?"
"I will, Bronwyn. I won't hurt you, I promise."
And he didn't. Because of his patience and consideration with regard to the physical limitations of her expectant state, Bronwyn responded with delight and pleasure to Jones' lovemaking. Their first intimate encounter had been more fulfilling and enjoyable than they both had hoped it would be. Afterward, Bronwyn fell asleep in his arms, satisfied and content.
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Unlike Bronwyn, her child was neither satisfied nor content, although its indignation was lessening from experiencing the intense and unexpected internal movements of its mother during her sexual encounter with Jones. The baby immediately transmitted its confusion and initial alarm to Smith, who interpreted and realized what his child was attempting to communicate—that the inevitable had finally occurred, and that Bronwyn and Jones were now intimate.
That should have been me with her right now, Smith thought sullenly to himself as he poured the last dregs of what remained in the brandy bottle into his glass, before drinking it quickly. He grimaced slightly as the liquor burned in his mouth before he swallowed it.
So the little slut and Jones finally got around to doing it, he thought and scoffed. It's just like that brain-dead ex-colleague of mine to take his time about it; had I been in his place, she would have been in my bed months ago. Smith curled his lip in anger as an image of Bronwyn--writhing and moaning in passion and lust because of what Jones was probably doing to her--flashed before his eyes and his hand tightened around the brandy bottle until it shattered.