Author's Note: I love writing smut, hate writing virginity loss. But every now and then, I welcome the challenge. I did do some research on what colonial women wore to figure out how Elsa would be dressed (conveniently, it was not practical for women to wear anything resembling underwear). I also tried to find the right balance between awkward and sexy since this is two 16 year olds without any experience whatsoever. As always, please check the warnings. Thanks to everyone reviewing so far and let me know what you think!
Warnings: Mentions of Helsa (arranged marriage, hinted consent issue). Oh, and smut. First-time, virginity loss. Technically underage (not in my country but some of you may live somewhere where the age of consent is 18).
Chapter 5: The Tryst
The winter night was quiet, a serene silence falling across the fields. Each footfall crunched against the snow, the only sound that seemed to echo towards the edge of the trees. Jack knew where to go instinctively, the path as familiar as the back of his hand. Yet though he saw the path before him, he didn't actually see it. His mind was still in Mr. Liabråten's study, the man's words a numbing reminder of all Jack had given up.
"Promise me you'll stay away from her…"
And he agreed.
"Jack!"
He was certain his mind was playing tricks on him.
"Jack, wait!"
He heard her boots breaking into the snow behind him. Part of him wanted to believe it was her, come to throw obligations to the wind. Another part of him wanted her to go away, to not tempt him to break a promise so young in the making.
He turned and sure enough, by the light of his lantern, he saw her come towards him.
"Jack!"
Her eyes shone, her breath passing through her lips in steamy wisps. How he wanted to throw down his staff and take her in his arms, shield her from the cold.
"You shouldn't be here, Elsa," he said, ignoring the twitch in his fingers. Reason had won. "It's late. It's not right for a woman to be out like this."
"You sound just like my father," Elsa said, shaking her head. There was a note of sadness in her voice. "Always telling me what's best without asking what I want."
"It's not like that—" Jack started to protest.
"Then what is it 'like', Jack? When did I get a say in any of this?"
He couldn't so much as hear her frustration as he saw it in the way she clenched her fists at her sides. Like a feral animal waiting to lash out at its captor. Elsa had spent her entire life imprisoned by everyone's expectations for her and he could see what little patience she had left begin to crumble.
By some will unknown even to him, she kept her composure. Maybe it was defeat.
"I heard everything," she said, quietly.
At her admission, Jack couldn't help but release a bitter laugh. As his breath misted in the air, that trace of bitterness seemed to remain as palpable as the ache in his chest.
"So, you heard me make a right fool of myself? This night just keeps getting better."
"You're not a fool, Jack. Don't listen to my father! He shouldn't have used Fr—my brother, like that."
"He's only looking out for you. He—we want what's best for you."
Though he said it, he certainly didn't believe what he was saying. He had to force himself to believe this was what was best for everyone.
"I wish you and Hans happiness," he whispered.
The flash of hurt in her eyes made the ache in his chest ripple like a reopened wound. He began to walk away, knowing that if he looked at her any longer, he would lose the rest of his resolve.
"But I don't want Hans. I want you."
Her words gripped him like a vice. The broken plea shattered the dam that had been building all evening and he could no longer hold it back.
"And you think that you wanting me changes any of this?" he asked, angrily. "It doesn't matter what we want, Elsa! You heard your father: I'm not good enough for you!"
His shoulders were shaking. He could feel the angry sting of tears burn his eyes. Much to his shame, he felt them slip down his cheeks.
"I don't know why I ever let myself believe I could be," he said, his voice breaking. "You deserve everything. And all I can give you is nothing."
"Jack…"
She reached for him and pulled him into her arms. Unraveling before her eyes, Jack gripped her tightly, burying his face into her shoulder. His staff dropped to the snow, snuffing out the flame from the lantern. But in the dark, he clung to her, her embrace defiance against the empty future that awaited him. He would make the most of the few moments they could share.
"You don't need to give me anything, Jack," Elsa whispered. "I just need you."
He lifted his head and saw a tear trickle down her cheek. For all that the rejection of his proposal hurt him, nothing pained him as much as seeing Elsa cry.
"Jeg elsker deg," he said, wiping away her tears. He looked deep into her eyes, his words carrying the memory of a promise kept. By the light of the stars, he saw her eyes shine.
.
"You can't just say that!" Elsa said, her face going as red as a tomato.
Jack blinked at her. His seven-year old mind couldn't wrap around what was so wrong with it.
"But you said it means 'I love you'."
"My mom says only say when you mean it," Elsa explained.
Jack tugged playfully at her braid, earning him a slap from a very annoyed Elsa. "But I do mean it! You're my friend, so jeg elsker deg."
"It's not THAT kind of love!" But her matter-of-fact tone was hard to take serious when she looked redder than the wild strawberries they liked to pick. "It's the—you know—kissing kind of love."
At the mention of kissing, Jack made a disgusted face. "Eww, really?"
He liked Elsa well enough. But he certainly didn't like her like THAT.
"Yes. So don't say it unless you really, really mean it." She folded her arms over her chest, trying to mimic the stern look her mother sometimes gave her. "Promise?"
Jack sighed. It was just words. Why was she acting like this over words?
"Jack!"
"Fine, I promise."
.
"You really mean it?"
The uncertainty in her voice was something he never wanted to hear again.
"Always," Jack whispered.
Her cheek felt warm cradled against his hand. He wondered if her lips would be as warm, would taste as sweet as that first kiss they had shared all those weeks ago. For every waking moment that he felt his heart beat against his chest, its staccato tune only waited to find its rhythm with hers.
He leaned down to brush their lips together gently, his mouth still unpracticed but ever willing to learn. It awakened a hunger in him that wanted to taste more, to feel more. The 'more' was something he could only instinctively follow as he pressed forward to deepen the kiss.
Elsa's hands gripped at his cloak but even though he felt her nervous tremble, her lips parted to invite him in. It felt a bit strange at first, more intimate than he had expected, but her small moan soon had blood racing to parts of him that demanded attention. There was something equally driving a hunger in her as she was kissing him back with the same intensity.
When they parted, Jack was leaning on her, too dizzy to even think.
"Stay," she whispered. The word held a meaning deeper than its simplicity.
But a recent conversation had him coming to grips with what she was asking.
"I told him I wouldn't see you anymore."
His words may have been steadfast, but his resilience was weak. All she had to do was beckon him with her siren's call and any agreements he had made would be an indistinct echo in the wind.
"Well, I never made such a promise," she whispered, mischievously.
Lord help him, he wasn't sure he could love this woman any more.
Her hand in his, she led them across the fields towards the small stable.
Once inside, Jack nervously placed his staff against the wall. He was so nervous that he jumped when one of the horses whinnied loudly.
"Penelope," Elsa scolded. The horse closest to Elsa stuck its head out from the pen and nibbled on Elsa's cloak. She mumbled something in Norwegian and petted the horse, exchanging a shy smile with Jack.
"I told my mother I was coming out to groom the horses," Elsa said. She stepped away from the rather persistent mare and removed her cloak. "So it should buy us some time."
He stupidly wanted to ask Time for what? But he knew what he was agreeing to when he had taken her hand. In some ways, he didn't dare believe that one of the worst nights he'd ever had could turn out to be the best.
She placed her cloak on a stool, then added her long, blue gloves. Jack's pulse picked up from catching even the briefest glimpses of skin. They had only the light of the moon illuminating the inside of the stable but the way its glow bounced off Elsa's skin made her appear almost ethereal, like a vision from the tales of fae and woodland spirits.
"I still think about that day," Elsa said. Her fingers unclipped her bun, the braid tumbling free over her shoulder. Even in the pale glow of the moon, Jack could see a faint splash of color across her cheeks. "In the creek."
Oh. That day.
"I—I still think about it, too," Jack admitted.
They both looked at each other with intense desire. But their shyness kept them from making the first move. With a bashful dip of her head, Elsa shifted her weight between both of her feet.
"What were you thinking when you…when you saw me?"
The question caught him off guard.
"I—I—" His face felt hot as he stumbled over his words. What would she say if he was honest? Would she think less of him for having such inappropriate thoughts? "I wanted to touch you."
He rubbed his arm awkwardly, with a nervous laugh. "I know it was—what I did—taking my clothes off-made it worse and—I shouldn't have been thinking those things—"
"I wanted you to."
He paused mid-ramble, his eyes darting up to hers.
"I—" she swallowed uncomfortably. "I wanted you to touch me."
"Oh."
He would have slapped himself for being so ineloquent if he wasn't completely dumbfounded.
"I was angry at first," she continued. "You can be so infuriating sometimes and—taking your clothes off where anyone could see us—
"But then I saw you—and I mean ALL of you—and I thought—if you put your hands on me…it might be nice."
"So…you're trying to say I made you hot and bothered?"
"JACK!" Elsa cried out, flustered. "You don't need to say it like that!"
Jack chuckled. It actually helped ease some of the tension.
"What was it that made you want me to touch you?" he asked. He saw her about to protest but cut her off. "Hey, I answered your question. It's only fair."
She hesitated a moment before saying, "You have nice shoulders."
"Y-you like my shoulders?"
He wasn't particularly fond of his body. Unlike his father, he ended up a lot more scrawny and lanky. He had been hoping to fill out a bit more but it wasn't like his family ate as well as some of the other farmers in this area. His time in the fields kept him toned but more wiry than he would have liked. Hitting puberty has also made him more self-conscious and he was reluctant to throw off his shirt unless he was certain there was no one outside of family around to see him.
But seeing Elsa nod and shyly look away, it gave Jack more confidence than he had felt in a while. He shrugged off his cloak and began unbuttoning his shirt.
"Jack? What are you—"
"You said you like my shoulders," he answered, peeling the shirt off.
The air in the stable was not as cold as it was outside but it was enough to make his exposed skin prickle without the protection of his outer layers. He heard Elsa release a breathy gasp as he slowly stepped towards her.
"Do you…still like them?"
She nodded but her eyes once again slipped to the floor.
Reaching out, he delicately tilted her face up towards his, forcing their eyes to meet. His pulse raced, spreading fire through his veins. He leaned in until their lips were nearly touching, his next words a teasing breath against her lips. "I also wanted you to touch me."
With a hesitant hand, she brushed her fingers along his shoulder, tracing the muscles that gave evidence of a season's labor. Jack shivered, the ticklish sensation dancing across his skin like an electric current. Her hand settled on his arm as she regarded him curiously.
"You're not cold?" she whispered.
"You know the cold's never bothered me," he answered.
He kissed her gently, fighting to keep his frenzied desire for her at bay. But it was a battle of will that was soon lost as Elsa stepped up to the challenge, pushing him onto the stool and sliding into his lap. She claimed his mouth with an intensity that had him gripping her for purchase, the dizzying taste of her lips awakening something hot inside of him. He was hard for her and half-embarrassed that she must be able to feel him through the layers of her skirts.
But if she felt him, she wasn't turning away in disgust. On the contrary, he felt her pressing against him in a way that was making him more and more wanting for her.
"Y-your heart," she panted against his lips. Her fingers were splayed over his chest, his pulse thrumming against the palm of her hand. "It's beating fast."
Taking his hand in hers, she pressed it to her left breast. A low groan rumbled in his throat, the rise and fall of each breath she took pushing her clothed breast into his hand. He remembered how soft they had looked that day in the river, spent many sleepless nights wondering if they would be just as soft in his hands.
"Would you like to feel mine?"
He could only nod numbly, his voice failing him.
The garment she wore today was simple, buttoned up to her neck. She unclipped the first set of buttons midway down her chest. Then, with a bashfulness that characterized their youth, she guided his hand inside, laying it over the thin shift that offered only a meager attempt at retaining her modesty. Although she remained clothed, her collarbone was now victim to the cool air in the stable. Jack could feel her nipple prickle through the shift. But most of all, he could feel how quickly her heart was also beating.
"This," she whispered, gazing at him intensely, "is what you do to me, Jack."
He pressed his lips to her collarbone, drawing a sliver of her pale skin between his teeth. His light nip made her breath hitch and emboldened him to slide his hand beneath her slip. The tiny goose bumps that peppered her skin became a map his fingertips could trace to destinations he had only dreamed of exploring. When he grasped her breast, she whimpered his name so wantonly, it made his erection twitch painfully inside his trousers.
"Is this okay?" he whispered against her neck. He fondled her gently, lining her neck with a trail of soft kisses.
"Y-yes," she gasped, tangling her fingers in his hair.
His hunger for her became a selfish ache. Every bit of skin he slid his tongue over was not enough to sate him. He needed more of her, to lose himself in her.
When her fingers traced the shape of his arousal, Jack was lost. A feral groan burst from the back of his throat and in the haze of his delirium, he abandoned all reason.
"Elsa."
Her name was a plea, desperate for an answer.
"Yes," she breathed.
She slid off his lap. The absence of her warm body was immediate and not something Jack could handle being away from for long.
He took his cloak and laid it over the hay stacked in the corner. Once she had settled comfortably, he descended over her, capturing her lips chastely. Her legs drew him in, pulling him against her skirts towards her heat, that maddening heat that had his erection throbbing for her.
He dragged his hand up her thigh, sliding cautiously over the high stocking until he was met with her smooth skin. He relished in the feel of her, like handling fine silk, coating his fingers until he had her dripping and trembling for him. Two of his fingers were buried deep within her and Lord how he wanted it to be him instead.
"C-can I...?" he groaned, pressing his thumb to that small bump hidden high between her folds.
It drew a carnal sound from her, a breathy whimper that bubbled from the back of her throat. He hadn't known something so strange could produce a sound so musical.
"Y-yes."
The desperation in her voice was all but begging him to be inside of her.
He went to unlace the bindings on his pants. But it seemed that it finally hit him, the gravity of what they were doing: Elsa was promised. And it wasn't to him.
His fingers shook with the lacings. If her husband realizes she's not a virgin on their wedding night…? Well, society always had creative ways to deal with women like that.
His erection was freed from its constraints, rock hard and throbbing to find its home between her thighs. And yet…
"Elsa, I—I don't think—"
"It has to be you, Jack," Elsa whispered. Her hands were also shaking. "I—I don't want it to be him."
Him.
It filled him with a destructive rage, his blood running hot at the thought of another man spending the rest of his life touching Elsa. Like a petulant child, spoiled rotten without discipline, Jack refused to share even if society labeled Elsa tradable 'property'. How strange a world they lived in where a person's thoughts and desires could be ignored for a transaction.
Her fingers gingerly touched the head of his arousal. With a startled gasp, his jealous fire became a flame that burned only for her touch. She experimentally grasped him around his shaft, sliding her hand along his length.
No one had ever touched him like that before. And though her hand was hesitant and inexperienced, he could come undone by the attempt alone.
"E—Elsa…" he gasped, resting his head against hers.
"I love you, Jack." There was a note of heartbreak in her confession, a melancholic song that denoted how doomed this was. "So it has to be you."
Guiding him to her entrance, Jack could feel her thighs tremble against his. She was as afraid as he was of what they were about to do, breaking the most heinous of their society's rules. But all he had to do was look into her eyes to know that this wasn't an act of malicious rebellion. This was them. And maybe both of them had known since they first met that it would eventually lead to this.
He was surprised by the resistance he was met with, though her could feel her walls coat him with her warmth. He went slow but struggled not to lose himself in the sense of completion that had his blood pumping with a lascivious craving to feel more. He sunk in as deep as she would take him and in his delirium, thought he would offer his soul to the devil himself if it meant he could spend forever between her thighs.
"Th-this is—" he groaned into her neck.
Words would not do justice to how wonderful she felt.
But his euphoria was short lived when he felt his forehead brush against something wet. To his horror, he realized she was crying.
"I-I can stop," he said quickly. He began to withdraw slowly, ignoring the pleasurable shudder that seemed to burn from his abdomen. It was like taking mead from a drunkard. "I-I don't want to hurt you."
The slight grimace on Elsa's face made it an easy decision.
"N-no!" she said, hooking a leg over his hip. "I want you, Jack. Please…don't stop."
Dear God, he wasn't sure how she managed to fuel his desire for her all the more. She made a fool of him to where 'no' no longer became a word in his vocabulary. He was sure that if she told him to walk through hellfire, he would do it.
"Oh, Elsa," he whispered, claiming her lips.
He thrust into her gently, any sound of discomfort being silenced by their kissing. He wasn't sure how to make this feel as good for her as it did for him but he slowly built a rhythm that had her gasping against his lips. Her hands traced patterns along his skin, though he noted how they always seemed to come back to those shoulders she seemed so enchanted by. Cradled in the shadows of the stable, they were both transported to a world where it was only them, away from the life that had long since decided their paths would diverge. He wanted to always remember her like this: porcelain skin like liquid silk on his tongue, her legs tangled with his, his name a prayer on her rosy lips…
When he finally came undone, it was with her name rumbling at the back of his throat. He spilled into her with desperation, the ache in his abdomen exploding until his entire body was shaking. He rocked against her, her embrace tight as they rode together this final wave that had him seeing stars. It was a long while before he dared move, his breath whispering sweet nothings into her shoulder.
"I don't want this to end."
Her fingers stopped toying with the strands of his messy hair. The finality in it all made something inside him break.
He wanted to tell her it didn't have to end but their future was not theirs to decide. All they could do was selfishly take the scraps of moments they were offered to sustain the delusion that it was all going to be okay.
When he pulled out of her, he felt like he was pulling away from more than the heat between her thighs. Elsa was his past, his present. Why was it decided that she could never be his future?
"Then let's not talk about 'endings'," he said.
As she curled up into his side, he let the illusion prevail for just a little longer.