Author's Note:
My final piece for this story. I hope that you enjoy it! I'm sorry that I'm done, to be honest, as this has gone far better than I expected, for the most part.
Please note that this chapter is specifically rated M and has significant sexual content.
~Impracticaldemon
Chapter 4—First Steps: Proposition and Proposal
Prompt: Happiness
[I] - Together
Freed was watching Mirajane through half-closed eyes, enjoying the sensation of being admired by the woman he most wanted to want him. Mirajane was stretched out across the length of his body, pressing him down into the soft dark leather of her living room couch. He knew without looking that right now her fingers were tracing the thin white lines of the scars that were scattered across his torso, most of them faint, a few new enough to be clearly visible. We take a lot of abuse as mages, he thought. It was a good thing that magical power also conferred a supernatural resistance to physical damage.
"I probably inflicted some of these," Mirajane murmured, obviously thinking of their vicious mid-air battle almost six months earlier.
In order to save her brother from Freed, she had transformed into her demon form, complete with claws that could easily rend simple cloth and flesh. Fortunately, Freed had assumed a demonic form as well in order to withstand her attacks. Though their abilities were not identical, they both relied on darkness magic for much of their power; consequently, they both understood the components of fear, pain and destruction in a more personal way than most of Fairy Tail's mages. Neither of them had walked away from the fight without injuries, but Freed's had been distinctly worse.
Freed was relieved when Mirajane didn't apologize for whatever damage she had done. He didn't want her to feel badly for using the only possible power at her disposal that could have stopped him from killing Elfman at the time. In fact, he didn't want her to feel ashamed or afraid of her Demon Soul magic at all; that would take time, but he fully intended to have that time with her.
Her hands on his chest—and shoulders and neck and especially his abdomen—left lines of energy that caused his skin to feel charged. It seemed to be how he perceived the contact between the semi-dormant magical power that infused both of them and loaned them the extra strength and resilience for which mages were known. Whatever the cause, it only added to his body's state of arousal. He wanted to feel her skin—her soft breasts, firm belly, strong legs—against his own very much.
"Freed?" Mirajane's voice recalled his wandering thoughts, the undercurrent of laughter indicating that she understood his lack of focus.
"I was just thinking that mages get hurt a lot—at least, those of us who take on the less ordinary missions."
"That more or less describes the job board at Fairy Tail," Mirajane pointed out, with a smile. "Are you saying that you're thinking about work right now?"
"No, I was watching—and appreciating—the way your hands touch my skin. The rest was inconsequential. To be perfectly honest, I was wondering how best to undress you."
"Oh."
Apparently, Mirajane could still be caught off-guard by directness from time to time. Freed watched a faint blush spread across her face—not for the first time that evening—and he wondered again how it was possible for a woman who read explicit romance novels (supposedly borrowed from Cana), and who posed in tiny bikinis for modelling jobs, to be this shy. It showed just how well she had isolated herself from any romantic or sexual attachments since taking on the role of Fairy Tail's hostess and perfect older-sister/mother figure. It had taken Freed quite a long time to realize that she constantly held people at a distance without seeming to.
He levered himself partly upright, so that his elbows, still trapped in the sleeves of his white shirt, were propped on the arm of the couch. Mira protested being moved, but although she was heavier than she looked (and much stronger), Freed had no difficulty shifting her so that she ended up kneeling across his thighs.
"You could help me with this shirt," he suggested.
"I could. You really do look ridiculously like a picture out of a magazine sold to panting fifteen-year-old girls."
"Well, if I have the misfortune to find myself on cheap lacrima crystals across Fiore I'll know who to blame," Freed replied mildly. "But are you sure that's what you want?"
"No, don't be ridiculous. I'd work out something much better staged and I wouldn't use cheap crystals."
Freed smiled to himself as Mira tugged first one and then the other of his shirtsleeves free. When the shirt slid to the floor, he paused to stretch and enjoy another kiss or two and then surprised Mira by gathering her up and standing. He was pleased that although he was definitely distracted, his usual coordination didn't fail him.
"Do you think I'd be worth the higher cost?" he inquired. "I do keep fit, at least."
"Ah… yes, I realize that." Mirajane's expression was a mixture of appreciative interest and the same apprehension that he had noticed earlier. "You're taking me upstairs to my room, aren't you?"
"Yes, unless you tell me not to. I am too much of a gentleman to take your dress off here, given that you have very little on underneath."
The lady in his arms laughed up at him. "I wouldn't describe your actions as gentlemanly, exactly, Freed!"
"No?" Freed slid one hand experimentally along Mira's leg. "Perhaps not. You have wonderful legs, by the way."
"Thank you," Mirajane replied demurely. "Do you even know where you're going?"
"You have the back room on the second floor overlooking the garden and the non-existent koi pond,"[1] her cavalier told her calmly, bending down to press his lips below her ear.
"I don't have a koi pond!"
"That's what I just said. On the other hand, you do have a garden and a fenced yard for the children, so the non-existence of the pond can be forgiven."
A half-open door exactly where he'd expected it led into Mirajane's room, and although he had distracted her with absurdities, he couldn't miss her sudden tension when he closed the door behind them and sat down on the edge of her bed with her still firmly held against his chest. The room looked right for her, somehow—all air and light wood and tidy spaces, and clearly feminine—but…
"You're going to have to tell me at some point, Mira," he said into the silky white hair not far from his face. "What's wrong? Nervous I can understand. But I don't think I've done anything to actually scare you, have I? I'm trusting you to let me know how you feel… I'm not perfect—not even close…" For the first time, he could hear frustration in his voice, and he stopped speaking, willing himself to wait.
The slim arms around his chest tightened and then relaxed. The face buried in his shoulder looked up, blue eyes anxious and resolute at the same time.
"I did… I did try to warn you. A little."
"That you might be a bit anxious—because the world has some expectations of you and maybe some double-standards. But that's not it." Damn, damn, damn… what's wrong? What did I miss? He wished that she didn't feel so warm against him, or smell so good. And it didn't help that she obviously wanted to touch him—the electric sensation still followed her hands across his skin.
"Freed… Can we try something?"
Mirajane stood up and he reluctantly let her go. To his surprise, she didn't move far, but she did tug open the bow at the back of her light summer dress.
"Don't say anything, just—trust me?"
Taking her at her word, Freed nodded, rather bewildered. A moment later Mira tugged the short dress over her head and stood there in almost non-existent, lacy white panties and a matching bra that was clearly more for show than support. It was testament to hormones and emotion over reason that the effect was both immediate and intense, even though he'd seen (and admittedly enjoyed seeing) her in almost as little before. Bra and panties joined the dress on the floor and Freed heard an odd noise between a plea and a moan escape his lips.
Fortunately, before he could completely embarrass himself by just dragging her onto the bed (or down onto the floor, either would do), Mira turned slowly once—show-off!—and landed lightly on the bed beside him. When he automatically twisted toward her, he found that she was already pulling his mouth down against hers, fingers winding tightly into looser hair at the base of his skull. Reason fled entirely for a while, as he ran one hand up and around her back and the other across one soft, perfect breast, caressing and teasing. He pressed her down against the thin, summer-weight blanket—white, everything was too white in here—and moved his mouth down to the nipple of the other breast. The sound she made as he tasted the pink skin with his tongue and then sucked more firmly with his lips and teeth conjured every erotic fantasy he'd had about the two of them and made him suddenly very, very aware that he was still half-dressed.
He lifted his head and actually cursed, and it was that together with a silvery—and completely breathless—chuckle that finally made him shake his head and focus his attention on the (very naked and absolutely gorgeous) woman lying half under him. He stared down at her, closed his eyes, opened them again, and managed a shaky laugh of his own.
"Show-off," he muttered, voice not quite steady.
"No, oh no, Freed, just… please don't be upset—"
"I'm not upset, except that I'm still dressed—"
"Let me help—"
"That's not a problem—trust me—you will definitely—help..."
Freed stripped out of pants and boxers with commendable speed and no assistance. He even paused to admire his lover when he was done. Mira stared back at him with frank interest and appreciation.
"Well?" he asked. "Will I do?"
"Yes, sorry—"
Freed silenced the unnecessary—and unwanted—apology with a passionate kiss, most of his body covering hers. His hands caressed her belly and hips and breasts, and his legs tangled themselves in hers. Eventually he moved his mouth back to her breasts, and this time his fingers found the springy curls below her navel and between her legs and explored the folds hidden underneath.
Mira whimpered and twitched as insistent, capable hands and mouth and tongue made love to her body. At some point she found Freed's mouth on hers again, and managed a faint, panting protest:
"You… said… I would… help…"
"Yes. Trust me. You're amazing." He kissed her neck, and pressed his weight against her, rocking his hips so that he was grinding his hard length against her wet, sensitive center. They were watching each other now from beneath half-closed lids, breathing unsteady, hearts pounding.
"I do trust you. And—" Mira moaned as calloused fingertips pinched the tip of her left breast. She pressed her hips upward, craving more sensation.
"And?"
"—You're better than the books…"
Freed managed a brief laugh that was more like a puff of air and tried to stop moving in order to concentrate on a lingering kiss. "Mira? Is now okay?"
"Yes—gods, yes, can't you tell?!"
He didn't bother answering. He didn't even mind that his care had been met with impatience—impatience was permission not to worry quite so much. With incredible relief and more force than he'd intended, he found her entrance and drove himself into her, eyes closed and his whole attention on the sensation. The incredible, almost painful, pleasure; the promise of better still. The sound of his lover, his, a dream made real. Her urgent cries drove him to move faster; her fingernails raking down his back made him gasp; her strong hips, rising hard against his, made him abandon all attempts at control.
Finally, finally, oh gods, finally… He thought he called her name, but he wasn't sure, the blood was deafening in his ears, his hands were on her hips, he convulsed, felt the heat and wet as he came, felt his lover's tightness around him shuddering, her hips still rising to meet his as he emptied himself into her. Then he brought his mouth and teeth down around one hard nipple, heard and felt her finally reach her climax, rocked with her, teased her through to the very end until they were both completely spent.
Time passed, and it occurred to Freed that he should move. He rolled to one side and lay there, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the sweat finally starting to cool and evaporate from his body. His long fingers found Mirajane's and he moved a little closer, so that they were at least touching along the length of their bodies. It was very strange but he wasn't sure what to say.
"Thank you," Mirajane said softly.
Freed made a frustrated sound. "I'm—I don't quite know how to thank you. There aren't words good enough." He sent his eyes sideways and saw that Mira was smiling—that was a good thing. "You are an amazing lover, and if it doesn't kill me, I hope to repeat this experience for many, many years to come."
Predictably, Mira snickered. Freed smacked his forehead with his other hand. "I was trying to be serious," he pointed out.
"I know, I know, sorry." Mirajane shook her head at the ceiling, as if it was giving her grief. "I'm just… a bit overwhelmed now and a bit embarrassed about earlier."
"… Are you going to tell me why? What happened, I mean?"
"Yes. Don't interrupt."
"…"
"When I went through my rebel phase as the Demon—or whatever you want to call my horrible adolescence—I had a crush on a guy because I thought he was… exciting, I guess. Why anybody growing up at Fairy Tail would need more excitement is beyond me now." Mirajane sighed, and then relaxed her shoulders and cuddled closer to Freed. "He was a bit older than I was, which wasn't difficult since I was only sixteen. I agreed to sleep with him. It wasn't great—which isn't exactly uncommon—and it hurt a bit… but that wasn't the problem in itself. The problem was that when he hurt me—not on purpose, just because he was pretty young himself and a bit impatient—I…" She stopped abruptly, looked at Freed, and nodded her permission to speak in response to his obvious wish to help her finish the sad little story.
"You accidentally transformed and hurt him back?" His voice and eyes—both blue at the moment—were deeply sympathetic.
"It was awful. You can't—well, maybe you can imagine. I know you keep your eye covered for a reason—just in case. Anyway, he didn't die or anything, and fear of the guild—I mean, I was only just sixteen—meant that nobody involved spoke of it again. And also… I never told anyone exactly what happened, just that we were messing around. Most people didn't hear about any of it."
"So this evening you thought that if things didn't go well—"
"Just losing control scares me—"
"You were afraid that you would attack me?" Freed was watching Mirajane intently now, not a trace of amusement left on his face.
"Or that I'd transform and you'd be completely disgusted or freaked out."
"I wouldn't. First of all, your magic has never disgusted me or freaked me out—and I remember your Demon phase." He touched her cheek to make sure that she wouldn't look away. "Second, I love you and I trust you. Third, I'm very much in love with you. Fourth, I have a number of flaws, but I'm not a coward. Fifth, you are sexy either way."
"Freed."
"Look at me. You have to know that I'd never joke about your fears."
Somewhat reluctantly, Mirajane brought her eyes back to Freed. He was absolutely serious.
"You're… turned on? Really? That's just… I don't know, Freed… Really?"
"Really. Why not? Don't misunderstand me: I'd like to hurt the man who messed things up for you." There was nothing but menace in Freed's voice for a moment, but then he turned his full attention back to Mirajane. "I think you are beautiful in either form—any form—and one day I'll convince you of that. As I mentioned, I plan to spend a very long time with you."
"House, marriage, children?"
"Yes. If you'll have me."
Mirajane sat up so that she could look down at Freed. He returned her gaze steadily.
"You are one of the most fastidious men I know—maybe one of the only fastidious men I know—and you're proposing to me lying naked on my bed covered in sweat without even the energy to do more than turn your head?"
"I was just answering your question. I thought I would propose to you later. And I'm not all that tired anymore, either, I just like the possibilities of my current situation."
She didn't resist when Freed pulled her down on top of him and started running his tongue along her ear; as she had noted a few minutes earlier, he was unashamedly aroused again. The electric feeling of his skin against hers—of his contained magic against hers—made her nerves sing happily in anticipation.
[II] - Together Forever
It was much, much later in the evening—the middle of the night, in fact—when they walked back downstairs to the living room, sleepy, satisfied and even clean following (according to Mirajane) the most relaxing bath of all time. They had done nothing more than bathe, actually, and admire the marks left on each other's fair skin after their lovemaking.
"I wish you weren't going," Mirajane said drowsily, perched on the edge of one of the large, comfortable chairs, watching Freed button up his shirt. She was wearing a soft, kimono-style dressing gown and nothing else other than a towel wrapped around her hair. Freed had washed her hair and massaged her scalp; she was secretly longing to get to do the same for him.
"I'm glad. That means you will want to find a place together—here or elsewhere—just as quickly as I do."
"True." Mira sighed, but it was a contented, happy sigh. Aside from anything else—and that was saying quite a lot—it was good to have the worst of the secrets shared and to discover that while there was still some anxiety, the old fear of rejection had greatly diminished.
Freed put on but didn't button his vest. In the low-lit room, he looked even more unusual and elfin than ever. He walked over to kneel in front of Mirajane and smiled up at her.
"I was quite serious earlier, you know," he said.
"About which part? You seem to have been serious—to one degree or another—about everything you've said this evening."
He opened his left hand to reveal a silvery ring set with a shimmering, faceted dark blue stone.
"About proposing, of course. You didn't seem averse to the idea this morning, and I always intended to. Mirajane, you are the most beautiful person I know and I want to spend my life with you. Will you marry me?"
Mirajane stared at him literally open-mouthed. Then she nodded her head violently, causing the towel to slide out of her hair and drop clumsily into her lap. She twisted her hands in it absently, tears visible at the edges of her eyes.
"You are—I mean, yes, I'd like that very much—but you are—" Words failed her, so Freed decided to cover the awkward moment by slipping the ring onto her finger and kissing her.
When that was done, he sat back on his heels, hands still holding hers, looking—
"… Smug! You look smug again!" Mirajane was laughing and sniffling slightly at the same time.
Freed smiled apologetically. "I really, truly can't help right now. If ever a man deserved to feel smug, I am that man."
"And your proposal was lovely but I was wearing a dressing gown! And I had a towel in my hair!"
"Yes. How could I resist? You looked stunning and adorable all at once."
"If you have an answer for everything for the rest of our lives together, then so help me I'm going to divorce you."
"Mira, think about it. You took your clothes off and I couldn't have constructed a complete sentence if my life had depended on it. Also… I do a lot of planning. You do as well, but you're also more adventurous. I am absolutely certain that I will be caught off guard countless times over the next several years. I mean, I have no idea how to cope with babies or young children, so I expect that will provide you with amusement."
Mira ran her fingers through Freed's long green bangs.
"Speaking of children… we didn't really talk about that, did we? I don't mean hypothetically, I mean, um, about tonight?"
Freed looked down, reddening.
"I did actually plan for that, too," he said, sounding embarrassed. "I think a lot about the different ways I can use my magic, you see. It's quite flexible as long as I have enough time to set the rules."
"Oh. That's good then." Mirajane's tone was ambivalent.
"Ah, well, the problem is that I got distracted and,"—he bowed his head even further—"the truth is that I forgot. I'm very, very sorry. I've tried hard to make sure that any important decisions were choices that we made together."
"Ha! So there is one thing that didn't go according to your plan! Thank goodness! I feel strangely relieved, to be honest."
Freed's head jerked up. "You're relieved that you might be pregnant?"
"No! You know what I mean!" Mirajane whacked him lightly with the damp towel. "You're human! That's definitely a good thing."
"You know, Ever and Bix occasionally have the same reaction when I make a mistake."
"For once, I sympathize entirely with them. So… we're going to get married? And this ring is so pretty and I haven't even thanked you!"
"You could thank me properly tomorrow," Freed suggested.
"I suppose that's one way to drive my brother out of this house. He'll probably go back to the guildhall just in case of the possibility of walking in on something…"
Freed stood up, pulling his fiancée to her feet. "We can talk it over tomorrow at tea." He kissed her, quietly exulting in the happy excitement on her face.
They walked hand-in-hand to the front door.
"I'm curious about one thing, though," said Mirajane thoughtfully, as they kissed each other goodnight.
"You want to know why I didn't just propose earlier, or at dinner, if I had the ring with me all along?"
"Yes. But"—Mirajane held up her hand to forestall his answer—"thinking about it now, I understand. It's all part of the same thing, isn't it?"
Freed nodded. "No threats, no bribes, no perception of entitlement—free choice and responsibility are very important to me."
"I can live with that."
"You've already agreed to."
Mirajane rolled her eyes. "You are so—"
"—Smug, I know. "
They grinned foolishly at each other. Eventually, they managed to exchange sufficient farewells to make parting a little easier. Freed walked off toward his usual home with his team, humming slightly, while Mirajane closed the door and went upstairs to plan how to announce things to friends and especially family. She couldn't quite stop smiling.
Outside, a very large, white-haired figure strolled across the road, leaving the black shadows of his temporary hiding place behind and grateful that they'd finally stopped necking in the doorway. Dark bruises running along both sides of his neck and down below his collar suggested that it had been a good night for the Strauss family all around.
"Oh well," Elfman muttered to himself as he unlocked the front door to the house. "At least I get to jump on the pieces if that green-haired bastard does anything to hurt her."
Thus reassured—somewhat—he turned in for the night as well.
[END]
*[1] See chapter 3.
Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read, comment and review. I hope that the characters as presented have been interesting, or maybe been shown from a different angle, but still stayed true to key elements from Fairy Tail as a whole. \(^u^)/ If you have a moment, please review/comment on this chapter or on the story as a whole! Your support is greatly appreciated.