Sorry for the delay in posting - I hope I made it worth the wait!
One week following Marisa's bombshell was the due date for paperwork from research. After Owen left her office, Claire double-checked her shirt buttons and pulled a compact out of her purse to inspect for make-up smudges. She had some difficulty locating the manila envelope that had been shucked aside as he greedily plundered her on the desk. Zara knocked on the door hesitantly, but it startled Claire all the same. She blushed preemptively. Zara let herself in, as usual, and was clearly struggling to contain her mirth as she approached her boss. Claire pursed her lips then sighed, "Out with whatever joke you're planning on making." Zara pouted as if the other woman was spoiling her fun - this was becoming a pattern of behavior - before clearing her throat.
"I'm guessing you received more than paperwork today," smirked Zara. She bit her lip, but it didn't stop her from laughing. Claire rolled her eyes then joined in. Zara continued facetiously, "I'm ashamed by your lack of self-control as my superior. You are setting a very poor example."
"You were the one who encouraged me to 'live a little,'" said Claire in mock offense. "Now, I can't keep my hands off him...anywhere."
"Maybe you are a good example of a modern woman unabashedly satisfying her carnal appetites." Zara grinned saucily as Claire's smile disappeared from her face.
"Not entirely unabashedly," Claire confessed with a sideways glance.
Zara looked at her sympathetically and asked, "Why not? You two are the definition of a power couple."
Claire winced, "Well, that's kind of the problem. I've always been an independent woman who made it on my own will and ability. I've also always been in control of my...urges. He's ruining me on both counts." It was Zara's turn to roll her eyes. "He makes me feel possessed - by all meanings of the word."
"That's not necessarily a bad thing, Claire."
"I know...it's just...I feel guilty, as a feminist, for needing him to reach this level of fulfillment." She said it and breathed a sigh of relief. Claire had never felt so fulfilled in her life but was having unrelenting jitters about it. It wasn't something she felt comfortable telling Owen, in whom she was otherwise able to confide everything.
Zara shrugged, "Fulfillment isn't even achieved by everyone. You're lucky. It doesn't matter how you got there." She shook her head. "No. Fuck it. It does matter because you got there honestly while still caring about the...'world' at large." They both laughed before Zara elaborated, "The park is thriving. Staff morale is high, especially you. You seem less burdened. The work more manageable to you." Claire knew that Zara was right. She did view her job through a different lens now. It was not only more manageable. It was also more meaningful. "Owen's influence on you led to all of that. He should be celebrated."
Claire couldn't suppress her giggle. "Oh, I celebrate him plenty...including this afternoon."
"I think I overheard a bit of that," Zara replied with a wink. They shared a wicked, conspiratorial grin. "I miss those early days. Pretty soon, it's all china patterns and towel colors." Claire scoffed audibly. "What? Are you telling me that you've not considered that outcome?"
"I have," said Claire, looking down. "I just don't put too much stock in it, as an institution or a festive occasion. No offense."
"None taken, but I do hope that Owen alters your perception of marriage, too - you need to put a ring on that beefcake...as soon as possible." Zara was clearly being fresh, but Claire felt compelled to defend him.
"I trust that he wouldn't need a ring to remain committed." It came out haughty.
Zara laughed, "There's the confident woman of means I know and love. You have nothing to feel guilty about. Treasure each other."
Claire reflected on Zara's words long after her assistant left the office. She also recognized the two-way nature of the positive influence in her relationship. Owen earned his third and fourth stripes after his instructor said he was "more relaxed and focused." Owen credited Claire. That night after training, he wasn't too exhausted for sex. He was more generous and loving in bed than ever before. She "rewarded" him by saying that he'd officially proven himself to be reliable. He was more than that to her. She often recalled her comparing him to a rock when he was sitting next to her in the infirmary. He was her rock in all settings, and she strove to be his.
Claire helped Owen and Barry put the squeeze on Henry, who was forced to reveal the details of the hybrid's genetic code, when she retained independent legal counsel to review both the park's insurance policies and Barry's revised employment contract. As Claire suspected, the hybrid was part raptor. Barry's job wouldn't be easy, but he was better protected. Ultimately, so was the park. It was a short-lived victory, however. Vic Hoskins had already recruited a replacement for Barry at the raptor paddock. His name was Jennings Harrison, and Owen knew him from the Navy. He confided to Claire that the man was a strong proponent of negative reinforcement, bordering on sadism. He confirmed that Jennings not only knew Vic's endgame for the raptor project but was also likely on board for a field test.
Owen anxiously mused that Vic may have initially scouted Jennings as a potential replacement for himself. It was merely convenient to bring him on board since Barry was out of the picture. Owen expressed concern that Vic and Jennings intended to sabotage him and the girls. Claire tried to reassure him that it might just be paranoia, but even she didn't feel reassured. Owen's instincts were rarely wrong. A burning question - her biggest source of jitters - had threatened to tear her apart since Owen first broached the idea of his being replaced.
Lying in bed together one night, she finally decided to ask him, "What would you do if Vic gave you an ultimatum about the field test?"
"Leave IBRIS and Nublar," he answered flatly. Claire sucked in a sharp breath, and her heart hammered in her chest. It was the answer she feared the most. That he would choose to leave all his girls. She couldn't formulate a response. She started to tremble. Tears were poised to spill. He pulled her tightly to him. "You'd leave with me." His tone was arrogant. She flashed back to Owen's statement about their both being apex predators.
"Sometimes, you're too cocky for your own good," she huffed.
His resolve didn't waver as he replied, "You wouldn't stick around to see what other terrifying things InGen had planned." She swallowed hard. He was right. She'd felt increasingly uneasy about the company's actions and motivations since her initial meeting with Henry and Vic about the Indominus. She'd been on high alert after the lawyer found red flags in Barry's revised contract. Claire looked into Owen's eyes, where she often found answers and reassurance. His love and possession shined brightly in that moment. Possession, by all meanings of the word.
She sighed, "I'd also leave FOR you." No more words were required. As he kissed her ardently, her jitters dissipated. They were probably gone for good. Implicit in their exchange was that they were more important to each other than any job. New jobs could be found. What they shared couldn't be replicated.
When the day for them to stop using condoms arrived, it was bittersweet. Marisa had continued to harass Owen for money and let him know that she was flying back to the U.S. for her procedure. He felt guilty and almost caved. Claire told him that she'd support his decision, regardless. It was exactly what he needed to hear to start getting passed it himself. She went to his place on Friday night and found him sitting at the end of his dock. She couldn't help laughing about the last time she walked across the creaky planks to engage with him. Her heels made the same noise, and she heard him laughing, too.
She sat next to him and removed her pumps to dip her feet in the water. He looked pensive, staring at the ripples they created on the surface of the lake with their toes. He took her hand in his and said sadly, "I'll never know...if it was mine."
"Do you want kids?" she asked, the words spilling out of her mouth without forethought. It clearly surprised them both. He looked at her with a warm smile.
"Never thought I did, but now..." Claire's heart ached at his unfinished words.
"Because of Marisa?" she inquired cautiously. He snorted then put an arm around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder.
"Because of you." Her tears fell as if automatically and dripped onto his sleeve. Owen waited a few moments to return the inquiry, "Do you?" He sounded nervous.
"Maybe." There was no emotion in her voice. She was laboring to stay indifferent to a question that caused her significant consternation when asked in the past.
"Maybe or no?" His voice was small. At first, she didn't know if he was teasing. It might've been gallows humor, to reference their night together that led to his seeking out Marisa. Under the circumstances, however, it was in poor taste. She peered into his soulful eyes and recognized the hurt evident in them. The remorse was still there, too. As always, his pain cut her more deeply than anything she'd experienced before.
"No, with anyone other than you." She meant it. She couldn't imagine parenting with someone else. The level of trust required for that enterprise wasn't something she'd reached until him. Single-parenting wouldn't happen for her either. She didn't want to be the sole caregiver and manage all that on her own. With Owen, she was confident they'd handle it. There would be give-and-take. There would be mutual respect and compromise. It could work. She realized that she'd broken eye contact with him when she heard his soft chuckle. Her brow furrowed as she returned her focus to him. "What?"
"Nothing," he smirked with twinkling eyes. "Just watching those gears turn. You never thought about it before, did you?"
"I've thought about having kids before," she groaned. "My sister never misses an opportunity to bring it up."
"Not generally. I meant...with me."
"No. I hadn't." He looked mildly offended, but she was being honest. "I'm sorry," she added sheepishly.
"It's okay." He swung her feet into his lap. "I've been thinking about it a lot." She froze. "Don't freak out," Owen said reassuringly while massaging her calves. "I don't expect you to be in the same headspace as me, and I don't mean now. Someday." She relaxed. His demeanor shifted. "Especially not today. When we're celebrating...freedom from the 'back-up method.'" His eyes suddenly filled with lust. A wolffish grin split his face. It was a relief. She needed a break from the weight of their conversation.
He pulled her further across his lap so that her ass rested on the dock between his thighs. One arm supported her weight as she was perilously close to falling off the edge. The danger heightened her arousal. He hovered over her - taking her in - before his free hand undid the buttons on her blouse. It happened so quickly that Claire pondered whether his eyes alone could make her shirt spontaneously open just as they spontaneously made her go wet. He leaned down to kiss her at the same moment his fingers dipped into her cleavage. He was impossibly good at seducing her. A thought flashed through her mind. He wasn't just the only man with whom she'd consider reproducing. He was probably the only man she wanted to be with ever again. She pushed the premature thought away, but it sparked joy all the same.
"Tell me how you want it, Babyface," she said in her most devastatingly sultry tone. She'd taken to using the nickname when engaging in dirty talk, and Owen quickly learned to enjoy it in that setting.
"Anywhere I find it, gorgeous. As long as it's with you." He was unexpectedly sincere rather than playful. Although, she couldn't find a reason to care.
"I want you out of this shirt." She tugged on his henley. "Then, I want you out of these pants." Dirty talk still made Claire feel inadequate and silly. Owen delighted in her embarrassment about it - told her as much, called it "endearing" that she wasn't perfect.
"Then what?" Owen challenged while scooting their bodies backward, away from the dock's edge. He pulled off his shirt, allowing her to trail kisses across his collarbone. She raised herself up on her knees to kiss his lips.
"Then..." her voice was breathy and barely above a whisper. "I let you do it to me bionic seahorse." He laughed heartily, and her face scrunched up as she took offense. "What?"
"I totally made that up last time we were here. That's not a real thing, but good on you for remembering." Her gaze sharpened. She considered taking a swipe at him. He smoldered at her before confessing, "I love you." She knew he wasn't saying it to stop her from hitting him. He said it because it was the truest thing she had ever known. It grounded her when her insecurities threatened to blast her into outer space. It was a powerful force.
"I love you, too." Owen blushed at her pronouncement. He still seemed to be adjusting to its veracity, but it grounded him in the same way it did to her. He surprised her by quickly pulling them both up to stand and unfastening his pants. Before Claire could protest, he'd slid her blouse to the ground, scooped her up in his arms and kicked off his pants in one fluid motion. He teasingly raised his eyebrows and braced his legs. Realization washed over her, and her voice threatened to crack, "You're not thinking?" He didn't respond verbally but flashed his famously charming lopsided grin instead. "No no no. I'm still wearing-" He didn't let her finish before initiating his leap. She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped his neck tightly. A small scream escaped her throat when they hit the water. He was careful to prevent her from becoming fully submerged.
"You will be paying the dry cleaning bill for this skirt," she hissed.
"It was worth it," he answered in a velvet voice. The water reflected in his eyes, magnifying their depth. She forgot about the wet silk. She forgot about everything outside of their passion for each other. Their lips met almost violently and somehow maintained contact whilst they shimmied out of their remaining clothing. He moved their bodies so that her back was to the the dock, then placed her hands around the planks behind her head. They exchanged nods as she secured her grip. He anchored her legs around his hips before plunging deep inside her. He didn't start thrusting immediately. She imagined that he was enjoying the "bareback" sensation. It didn't feel different to her, but the sheer ecstasy on his face indicated that it was different for him. "God, Claire, you feel good." He shuddered in pleasure and looked at her with awe.
"Come on, Babyface, make me scream." She didn't want any sentimentality in this moment. She wanted to be fucked. Hard. Just like he had done in her office on his last paperwork due date, when he'd made her feel wild. Owen didn't have to be told twice. She let out an avid moan as he moved inside her. Her hips cantered in time with his gyrations. It was rougher than ever - in part because water IS a poor lubricant but mostly due to her hands, essentially, being bound. She couldn't touch him and had to maintain an extreme level of focus to prevent her head from smacking into the planks behind it. It was worth it, however, because Owen was clearly enraptured. Just as his pain felt like her own, so did his elation. Her analytical mind couldn't explain it, but, sure as when they first crashed together on the gondola lift, she knew they were in this together. Caught up with no intention to release from each other. She couldn't imagine a better fate. Unsurprisingly, neither could he.
When he held her in his arms later that night, he whispered, "I want it all with you, Claire." She knew he wasn't just talking about sexual positions - even though they'd already been in several that evening. She didn't mind sentimentality in that moment. As he became more comfortable with the truth of her love for him, she was more comfortable with feeling possessed by him.
"I guess I better take you up on that offer of having a drawer here then," she teased lovingly.
"I'll build you a closet, if you want one."
"What did I ever do to deserve you?"
"I ask myself that exact question every day."
"Have you always been this sickeningly sweet?" She was being sarcastic. It was marvelous.
"You do things to me," Owen sighed in contentment and kissed her cheek. "My home is beside and inside you." She hummed in satisfaction and nestled into him as far as was humanly possible. Claire always wanted to maximize their skin-to-skin contact. The missionary position was honestly her favorite with him because of that opportunity. She adored feeling covered by his warm, sturdy frame while wrapping all her extremities around him. There was also no substitute for seeing his face and being able to kiss him when he came. The combination made her feel closest to heaven and the most powerful.
She could tell that he'd fallen asleep, but her mind wouldn't turn off. In a good way. She was too ebullient to rest. She was no longer tied up in knots. She knew what she wanted. Claire had never been sentimental - just as she wasn't previously a touchy-feely person - and, six months ago, wouldn't have guessed that Owen Grady could be that way either. She concurred with his assertion about being each other's home. It was a concept she hadn't previously considered. Never allowed it to enter her worldview in her attempt to emulate Queen Elizabeth. What once she saw as weakness was now the polar opposite. They were strong together in a way that neither achieved on their own. In the past, that might've frightened her. Or made her feel constrained. Today, it opened her eyes to limitless possibilities. It was better than any dream or romance novel.
Thanks for reading and please review! I'll hopefully post the epilogue in the next few days. I'm really going to miss these two.