Interesting... people are more receptive to Jack/Hailey fics (even with the 22 years age difference) than to Jack/Other fics with only 10 years age difference. Gotta remember that.
I'm going with Brief Candle canon here, which means Jack is 40. The woman in question is about 10 years younger.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Finally she heard his breathing change and knew he was waking up. Which was made clear when he suddenly stiffened and carefully and gently, much to her relief cause otherwise he would've caused discomfort maybe even pain, removed his fingers.
Against her will she felt a distinct pang of loss and emptiness when they pulled out of her body, but suppressed it and took the chance to put some distance between them and turn around.
What she found there wasn't by any means disappointing. At least she had taste even when dead drunk.
The guy was no means a pretty boy, the kind from magazines who have more feminine hormones than male, wear rings and have highlights in their hair, but he was a man. And was a definitely good looking man. Her friends would call him a 'hunk'.
He was older than her, probably around 10 years, had attractive rugged, correct features, with what must be intelligent eyes, but right then they were misted over with sleep and pain. His body was, from what she could see, firm and toned. Not the fake bodybuilder type of muscles, that are just for show, but the real ropey muscles that mean actual strength and even more endurance and stamina. He was lean and lanky and even at about 40 he had a great six-pack, great pecs and great forearms, along with quite nice bi- and tri-ceps showing.
It still didn't take him long before he somewhat focused on her and blinked.
"You look familiar."
She grimaced and glared at him. "And I should. Considering you were groping me just seconds ago. And given that we obviously had sex." she glared at him harder. "With each other." finishing lamely, she blushed heavily.
She then paused as the man paused and tried to focus.
It took him a while before he was as coherent as he could possibly be and realization, why he was like that, struck her.
'Man, he must've been positively tanked last night...'
Even had she wanted to, she could no way claim rape. It had obviously been consensual, even if it was completely out of character for her, because there would've been signs otherwise. Like she would not have woken up in his arms, snuggling into his heat and wondering hands, but would've been out of the room as soon as he had finished. And had she cried 'rape' then this guy would just have to have his blood taken and the level of alcohol in his blood measured and in the end she could end up being tried for rape.
He quite obviously had a head-splitting headache, given how slowly and carefully he moved his head and how gently he sank back into his pillow.
Yup, she had been drunk enough to lose her inhibitions, but this guy had been completely wasted. It was a wonder he had even gotten 'it' up...
She would've left it at that, gotten out of the bed while preserving as much dignity as possible, gotten dressed and left immediately.
And she would've... had it not been for a sudden flash of reflected light, which had her eyes automatically locating it.
Her eyes narrowed in anger as red descended on them.
"You're married!" she screamed, ignoring the way he groaned and grabbed his head at the level of her tone. "You bastard!"
She jumped out of the bed, completely forgetting her nudity, and put one hand on her firm hip, her legs spread, ignoring the evidence of what they'd done dripping out of her, and glared heavily down at him. Her other hand, her left hand, was pointing a finger accusingly at him.
"No, I ain't married." he managed to reply.
Then, opening one bleary eye, he looked at her and he would've checked her out appreciatively had it not been for the pain. That one eye still managed to catch something and it widened.
"Hey! Look who's calling me married!"
She stopped in her indignation for a second and frowned at him, this time in puzzlement. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Then what's with the ring, if you ain't married?" he grumbled.
Not knowing what to think the dark-haired woman looked at her own hand. And gasped.
Then, quicker than she thought herself of being capable right then, she grabbed the man's hand and, ignoring his feeble protests and groans of pain as her rough handling of him caused his headache to flare, she pulled it to her, a cold feeling of dread settling in her stomach.
The cold feeling turned into a large ball of ice that seemed to take over her entire body.
Their rings were identical. Had they been plain gold bands she could've still shrugged it off.
But both of their rings had the same design, the design of Celtic eternity knots.
Slowly, she collapsed onto the bed, their marriage bed it seemed, and looked around feeling terribly lost.
By now she had already realized that she was prancing around naked, on display for him, but couldn't care less. He had obviously seen all there was to see and had felt and groped and kissed and... done many more interesting and sexual things with her that just thinking about them would turn her thoughts into NC-17 rated material. And she was just fine with the current rating, thank you very much.
Her eyes fell on a piece of thick folded parchment on top of the bed-side table and, knowing what she'd find there while not wanting to find it, she reached her hand out.
Slowly unfolding it she read the words with complete resignation.
The words she had once looked forward to with excitement (albeit with a completely other man), now meant only problems and a potential catastrophe.
"What's your name?" she heard him say from behind her.
Looking back over her shoulder into his pinched face she gave him a sad smile and tossed him the paper.
"My name..." she sighed and got back into bed again, flopped her head down on the pillow and then finally looked at him, finishing. "...is Mrs O'Neill apparently."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
REVIEW!
