Submission

Disclaimer: I don't own the Matrix, blah blah blah.

Summary: Smith takes advantage of Bronwyn while her mind and body are under the effects of the dangerous combination of drugs and alcohol. Warning: this chapter is sexually explicit, but don't worry—it's consensual. You have been warned.

"Is it you?" Bronwyn whispered wonderingly, stroking her fingers lightly down Smith's cheek. It was pitch black in the room and in her inebriated and intoxicated state, time had been turned back and Jones was magically restored to her. Her child was dead, it was true; but the one man in the entire world who could help her assuage her grief and help her to feel love again, had returned.

Or so she thinks, Smith thought.

I know she is either drunk or stoned again, or else she would never let me get this close to her. But I do not care. When she is sober, all she seems to do is either weep for hours or swear at me whenever I am around her.

Because she has been so near to me this last week, always within my reach and within my sight, I find that I want her more than ever. Ever since that kiss she gave me the other night when she thought I was Jones…It was wonderful and passionate, it seemed like my body was on fire. It felt so good. But it was nothing compared to what I am feeling now.

"Is it you?" she repeated, when he did not answer her immediately.

"Yes, Bronwyn. I'm here."

"You left me and you never came back. I was alone and I lost my baby. Where were you?" she said, and Smith could detect all of her suppressed emotion and all of her grief expressed in that one, simple sentence.

"I had to leave; I had no choice, I'm sorry. But I'm here now," he said, soothingly as he spread his hands over her back and pulled Bronwyn closer.

"Don't leave me again."

"I will never leave you, I promise."

Her arms wound around his neck and she drew him closer to her, kissing him passionately. He groaned in pleasure and gave himself up to the sensations of bliss only she could make him feel.

For a brief moment, he debated within himself on whether to use the information in Jones' database regarding all the times he and Bronwyn had been intimate, but decided against it. I want her to love what I am doing to please her, not simply pretend to be Jones and hear his name being cried out when she climaxes. I want to hear my name.

His hands roamed over Bronwyn's body hungrily, savoring the feel of her warm, soft flesh through the thin, silk nightshirt she had worn to bed. All that prohibited him from feeling her bare skin under his fingers was a few troublesome buttons, which he nimbly undid until she lay naked before him. The feeling of her unclothed body underneath his put all of Smith's senses into a tailspin until his entire universe was focused on the smell of her skin, breath, and the feel of her hair running through his fingers.

It wasn't enough that she was offering her body to him now, he wanted to hear it as well. He removed his mouth from hers and held her face in his hands.

"Bronwyn?"

"Mmm?"

"Tell me what you want."

Oh, Jones, she thought, almost tempted to giggle but stifled the urge. "What do you think I want, you big lug? I want you to make love to me," she replied huskily, her fingers busily undoing the buttons of his shirt and when it was completely open, she ran her hands over his firm and well-muscled chest, growling in admiration as she did so, "but before you do that, I want you to do you-know-what to me first."

Smith felt his face and body suffuse with heat as a mental, graphic image of what she was referring to flashed before his eyes.

"C'mon Jones, you know what I'm talking about," Bronwyn said, coyly. "I can't help it if you are so damn good at it."

Smith pulled away from her, partly in jealousy, partly in offense. It is him she wants to make love to her, not me, he thought.

But does that really matter?, a part of his mind argued. You've always wanted her, you know that. You are here with her now, in her bed, and she wants you to make love to her. So what if she thinks you are Jones? You want to be with her, don't you?

Bronwyn made a soft, wordless noise of protest in her throat when she felt him withdraw his body from hers.

"No, don't go," she whispered, trying to pull him back to her. "Stay here," she mumbled, barely audibly. "I don't want to be alone anymore…I need you."

See, Smith's mind pointed out triumphantly. She wants you to stay with her. And if you make love to her now, she will be more than willing. She won't lay there like a cold fish like she did the first time you had her.

The idea of Bronwyn accepting and welcoming his touch and caresses, as well as giving him her own, made Smith's blood seem to boil inside his body and race through his veins.

Take her, his mind exhorted. Fuck her until her eyes roll back in her head. Take her now!

His sense of urgency to have her again, to posses her and make her body join with his own was heightened to a degree he never thought possible. However, he reminded himself to be a tender and skillful lover; he resolved that he would be gentle while he was intimate with her and there would be no force, no rape this time.

I must prove to her than I am a better man, a better lover than Jones could ever be. He quickly downloaded all of his available files regarding various human sexual techniques and practices; selecting and scanning the ones that he thought Bronwyn would most enjoy.

Smith also retrieved the files from Jones' memory banks on the topic of all the times he and Bronwyn had been intimate. Smith smiled knowingly to himself as he discovered that the only thing that Jones had not done to Bronwyn-though she had asked and even begged with him on many occasions-was to penetrate her using his fingers. Of course, Jones never complied with her request and Smith knew the reason why. Because of that incident in his past, he could not bring himself to do so, in case he ended up hurting Bronwyn. Accessing other directories in his former colleague's data storage, Smith was impressed in spite of himself when he saw how creative Jones had learned to become while making love to a very pregnant Bronwyn.

But she is not pregnant anymore, and therefore has no limitations on what she can or cannot do—or have done to her-in bed, he thought rather smugly. Jones had to work around the confines of Bronwyn's pregnancy but Ido not.

"Bron," Smith had been about to ask if this was what she really wanted, but stopped when he felt her hands begin to tug awkwardly at his belt trying to loosen it, and his body answered that question for him. In no time at all, he hastily removed the remainder of his clothes and he turned her over on her back so he could nuzzle the sensitive area of her neck. Bronwyn moaned softly and turned her head to the other side so he could have complete access to all of her neck.

Bronwyn inhaled her breath suddenly and Smith chuckled softly to himself when he felt her reaction to his attention he paid on her skin with his lips and teeth as he playfully nipped at the tender flesh.

"Suckle me," she implored, when she felt his breath on her shoulder and groaned in delight and satisfaction when his burning lips encircled and enveloped her taut and eager nipple, while his hand caressed her breast. She threaded her fingers through his hair in sheer enjoyment when he obeyed; her passion and desire growing within her with each passing moment that he skillfully tormented her like this.

He felt himself getting completely and thoroughly hard in response to Bronwyn's sighs and moans of delight that increased in volume and frequency because of the sensations his actions was igniting in her.

Persephone was right, he thought, intimacy that is shared is much more pleasurable than taking by force.

When he thought she had had enough of this exquisite torture, Smith stopped what he had been doing and decided to turn his attention to another part of her body. Removing his mouth from her nipple, he smiled to himself when he heard her groan of disappointment turn into a whimper of anticipation when she realized where his mouth was headed as he trailed a series of slow, lingering kisses down towards her belly.

Bronwyn gasped sharply and unconsciously grabbed a fistful of the sheet when she felt one, then two of his fingers enter her and begin thrusting slowly inside. Not giving her any time to deal with the sensations he knew he was arousing in her, Smith used his muscular thumb begin to gently massage and stimulate her swollen clitoris. Bronwyn arched her back, her body writhed in response to what he was doing to her; her teeth clenched, her breaths were short and rapid, and her hips began to counter-thrust against him, deepening his digital penetration.

"Please, don't stop, for God's sake," she begged, desperate for him to continue.

Smith had no intention of stopping then or at any time, for that matter. He could tell she was very close to her climax and when he judged the time was right, he replaced his thumb with his mouth, placing her clitoris between his lips and began to gently suckle it as he had done with her nipple.

With a great deal of surprise, Smith found that he rather liked the taste and feel of the secretions Bronwyn's body released during her heightened sexual state of near-orgasm. Her moans were now long and loud and her breathing was rapid and shallow. Smith knew that her orgasm was imminent and he redoubled his efforts to ensure that Bronwyn would experience sexual fulfillment on a level that would surpass anything Jones had given her.

Let's see how you react to this, he thought, and drove his fingers inside of her as far as they would go, then withdrew them until they were almost out. He repeated this process of insertion and withdrawal, simulating the act of intercourse while simultaneously increasing the pressure on her engorged centre. Bronwyn came almost immediately afterward and shrieked as wave after wave of almost unbearable pleasure flooded over every nerve ending she possessed, right down to the very fiber of her soul.

She was right, he thought amused, she is loud when she comes. Smith waited until the spasms inside of her stopped contracting against his fingers and her climax was spent.

"Now it's my turn," he murmured.

Before Bronwyn had time to come down from her sexual high and notice or realize anything of the world around her, Smith had moved his body between her legs and with one smooth movement, he entered her. The sensations of finally being inside of this woman whom he had wanted and desired for so long almost caused him to ejaculate immediately, but by the sheer force of an iron will, Smith held off his own rapidly approaching climax so he could thoroughly enjoy and relish in the sweet sense of satisfaction and pleasure he was receiving, as well as savoring and anticipating his imminent release.

His arms tightened around her and Bronwyn could feel him begin to thrust inside of her, beginning the age-old rhythm of man with woman. Two bodies fused as one, limbs entwined. Procreation and recreation combined together in one passionate act.

Bronwyn had only copulated with Jones in this position three times-because Jones' sheer body weight and Bronwyn's advanced pregnancy rendered it advisable for a change in their position so no harm would come to her unborn baby. Even so, Bronwyn knew in her heart that something didn't feel as it should be. Something has changed, she realized. Everything about him is different—the way it feels when he is inside of me, the texture of his hair, even the smell of his skin. It didn't seem like Jones' sizeable form on hers, this man was not as well built or nearly as brawny, but he had a slighter physique, and his weight was lighter.

It's almost as if there is another man doing this to me, not Jones. But how can that be, her mind questioned, trying to fight the effects of all the intoxicants in her system and bring some clarity to her confused consciousness. Who else could it be? If I didn't know better, Bronwyn pondered, it was almost like….Smith.

"NO!" Bronwyn screamed, trying desperately to get him off of her, but it was useless. She scratched and clawed at his skin frantically, even slapping and punching him where she could, but he still continued to thrust inside her, as slowly and as steadily as when he first began.

Bronwyn breathed in sharply when her body began to respond against her will. This can't be happening, she thought desperately. I can't be enjoying this—it's not possible. However, she was getting a great deal of pleasure from what he was doing to her and they both knew it. She froze into stillness, when she heard his voice murmuring in her ear.

"Let yourself go, Bronwyn, let yourself feel this, don't hold back," Smith said softly and hoarsely in her ear-his voice betrayed the effort he was making to hold off his own approaching orgasm until she had been satisfied first-knowing that she was on the brink of hers.

"Smith, no," she moaned in protest then she cried out when she felt her release spread itself through her body. She raked her fingernails down Smith's back as she experienced a sharp and intense burst of pleasure and as it ebbed, Bronwyn felt him suddenly clutch her closer to him and groan deeply when he came.