Last Chapter!

Warning: Suggestive sexual themes towards the end.

Christina was the one to call me down from my mind, brushing soft follicles and straws against my face, like a puffy paint brush and she glided it down along my cheeks, her cold soft fingers holding me firmly by the jaw. Even though my eyes were closed, her concentrated expression was burned into my skull, the one she often wore during our initiation. Her eyebrows knitted perfectly together, her lips in a harsh frown, the left corner twitching slightly, narrowed eyes and a line between her brows. If I hadn't known better, I'd have assumed she was very upset with me, but the gentleness she displayed as she dragged a black pencil over my eyelid told me she had any other intention than hurting me. After all, tonight was the leadership entitlement, the whole of Dauntless would know in a few hours that I was the newest leader, that I had passed all the tests, my rank would be revealed, I would be appointed up and would require respect, I would be a leggate of sorts of any team assigned to me in an ordinary patrol. Though, Dauntless was hardly ever ordinary.

Christina huffed impatiently at me, and I could almost feel her eyes roll, her nails left my chin and she pulled away from me, fabric crinkling. I dared to open my eyes as she sighed softly at me, as if I couldn't be helped. Her bubbly chuckle filled my ears and she told me to stop moving, I told her that people had never poked and prodded at my face like she had before. She laughed it off and sharpened her tools of her trade. Eyes were always a touchy subject for me, mine were very special to me, they were my rock, they told me everything, I needed them, which was why I flinched every time she pressed the cold tip of the dark pencil to my eye lid.

Time seemed to stretch on forever until Christina gently grasped my hands and told me she was done in that preppy tone of hers, I loved her, I really did, but sometimes I wanted to strangle her. How could she be happy standing up for hours and poking and drawing on my face? I tried not to cringe as she pulled out bottles of chemical smelling polish. It was a peach flesh color, and had a shine to it. Even though I pulled away from her, if Christina was known for anything it was her iron grip, which she held around my wrist, and to which she pulled back over into a chair. I huffed my displeasure, which I swore only encouraged her.

In 40 minutes or so, after my hand cramping and me accidentally messing up the newest nail many times, Christina had managed to polish, trim, sharpen, protect and paint my nails a soft peach nude color, my thumbs in particular had a french tip, whatever that meant, and had beautiful and cute little grey flowers on the corners toward my index finger. She had drawn them with much care with a nail polish grey pen, and had stuck on a tiny white rhinestone in the middle.

Then was the time for dresses and hair, she had very carefully helped me adorn my dress without letting me look in the mirror. I hadn't a clue what I looked like, and I think she wanted it that way. The flush of wonderment on her face told me enough, however, and I knew that I had (without her help) picked out a fine black dress that fell down just past my mid thigh, it was virtually strapless and made of one of the softest fabrics I'd ever worn. There was one sleeve, made entirely of lace that snaked down my left arm, the design was black roses. I knew Eric might like it, and I knew that it covered enough to keep me from feeling exposed. Though I knew the dress showed my ravens nicely, something I had caught the gaze of eric many times, he never asked about them, that was alright with me, he didn't need to be reminded how much of a stiff I was. The dress also exposed my leadership tattoos, which were perfectly crafted to weave down my arm from my shoulder, all to my wrist. I would wear them with pride, I earned them, I took bullets and lead reforms for them. I was Dauntless, and I was going to be a Leader with a faction wide celebration in my name.

Christina seemed to be very good at hiding her thoughts from me, though she bit her lip at me and grinned, eyebrows lifting. I knew she wanted to say something almost vulgar and teasing to me like the type of girl she was, but she shoved me instead into the bathroom to do my hair. When I caught my reflection I almost didn't recognize myself, similar to the reaction I had when she first painted my face for my ex boyfriend. "I'm going for striking this time," She said to me, and I couldn't help but reach to lightly touch my face. My eyes were smoky grey and black, some white and nude sparkles flashed as well under the dark fine black line on the edge of my eyelid, boldening my already dark eyelashes. I was beautiful, and very striking. Christina pulled me from my awe struck state with a hissing curling iron, to which I turned down, hands flailing out and my face holding a parted lips and wide eyes. I was never letting a hot piece of metal near my head or face again, not after she burned me, well I flinched.

An hour later she was showered, dressed in a cherry red cocktail dress, she had to tell me what it was called, it was a single strap that wrapped around the back of her neck, and was virtually backless, which fell down just above her tailbone. A red frilly sash framed her bosom and I couldn't describe her as anything other than beautiful, but what I didn't understand was how she managed to get ready within an hour and spent three on me.

In shoes I couldn't walk in, backed by my two best friends Will and Christina, I arrived in the observation deck above the Pit around 9 at night. The obsidian walls seemed to shimmer with the rising and drifting mist from the chasm, the winter was drawing closer, a festive time, and even more beautiful and dangerous in Dauntless than what I would have ever thought. Icicles hung from the archways, cold water droplets tinging into well placed drains on the walkways, and sometimes steam rose from the chasm. Dauntless lights glowed and decorations that were strung up seemed to rival even Amity's celebrations. But that was during the winter months, we were barely seeing the first stretches of fall, but the weather still grew cold.

Much to my surprise, a certain leader stood with his arms crossed and a dark look on his face at the door beside the balcony entrance, he looked just short of livid. His hair was nicely done, gelled, freshly cut. His piercings glinted in the dim light from a few meters away from him. I could tell that he left a few of his piercings in his bathroom, because it was only his ears, the corner of his eyebrow, and his lip was was pierced. Still, he looked very, good. And the sight of him made me smile and push down a wave of heat.

Christina skillfully walked in front of me, her black heels clicking, though they were muffled from the music that could be heard on the other side of the door. I hung back, subtly pushing Will ahead of me, catching Eric's eye as the door shut. All cool and slick, brooding and steamy the way he was, Eric stalked over to me, head tilted, the formation of a ghost of a smile on his lips. He looked me up and down, wetting his lips. He came to a halt in front of me, a smirk sliding over his face, his hand reaching up, fingers brushing against my skin like a feather tip, nails leaving a trail of a ticklish sensation up my neck to my jaw, where he let his palm rest. His thumb uncharacteristically gliding against my cheek bone.

I shot him a curious look, as while he'd never intentionally hurt me physically outside of training, the kind of behavior he displayed was strange to say the least. To my gaze Eric tilted his head, and he said something to me I never would have expected to come out of his lips in the two and a half years I'd known him, "You look beautiful, as always,"

"Have you been drinking?" I asked him, squinting and turning my head slightly, searching for any glowing or blushing signs he held when he was very under the influence. He stepped closer to me, again where it would be easy for him to lean down and capture my lips, or bite me like a dog. Eric whispered to me in the low voice he used in his apartment, where he dragged me to his bed and proceeded to take my breath away, which again his words did to me, "No, I havn't been, the bars aren't open until the woman of the hour shows up,"

"So flattering, you trying for something?" I teased him, grinning ear to ear, he looked away from me before looking at me again. Then his hands were on my waist and I was against the wall, trapped in a warm and soothing chill of a bubble between him. His hands grasped my neck and jaw, his thumbs resting beside my ears, his fingers threading into my hair, I'd never before seen a look so intense on his face directed at me. His breath had fluttered against my face and smelt of mint, and his cologne was spicy and musky and complemented his personal smell nicely. He leaned down towards me, fingertips digging gently into my skull, "I want to kiss you," he said to me, brushing his lips against mine when he spoke.

Feelings I couldn't explain at the time welled up in me, ones that threatened to pour salt and acid in my eyes, ones that made me bite my lip like a teenager, ones that ignited into bright burning flames that had once before been mellow. Eric was one to declare what he wanted, was the type to take it if he didn't say he wanted it, which was why he caught me off guard, because it seemed as though he was asking for my permission. I took the time to calm myself from a pounding rock and roll drumming heart in my chest, "How many?" I teased,

"Just one," He said,

"One kiss," I said to him, blinking at him slowly, "That's all you want?" My fingers slowly hooked into his beltline, tugging him toward me by his pants. His warmth drove me crazy, and his nearing proximity made my breath halt in my throat, "Maybe," He said to me, before his palms pressed firmly to my skin, and his nose brushed mine, his lips capturing and crushing mine. A sound escaped my lungs as he slowly pressed his body to mine. My cold fingers teasing the skin near his abdomen, pulling him closer, he drew back, and gave me this unsure but watchful look. His steely eyes filled with so many questions and so many emotions, he was insecure in his choice to kiss me. The Eric, the ruthless, assholish, moody, alcoholic, murderous and cruel Eric was insecure about kissing a girl. Kissing me. I smiled, jutted my chin up, and kissed him much harder, I must have surprised him, because his hands gripped at my hair tighter and he pressed my body firmly to the wall.

He tilted his head, engaging in me in a heated kiss, one of his hands snaking down my dress, down my arm, his lips distracted me from his fingers gingerly hooked under my dress, traced around my leg, made me shiver. He mumbled to me how much he liked the dress before he claimed my lips and mouth in the way I imagined he would, the cold lip piercing making me surrender to him. It was when his hands swept down to my upper thighs, and squeezed did I make any other noises, he lifted me, using his waist to pin me to the wall, my legs crossing at the ankles around him, hands sliding up and under his shirt, nails scraping and grazing over a tight stomach, up to his chest. He hissed at me through his teeth, biting at my lip. Then his tongue met mine, and they mingled, his soft huffs of hair and his hands sent jolts of electricity down to pool like lava in my lower belly. I pulled from him, cupping his face and grinning, panting at him and nearly laughing, "One kiss you said?"

"Maybe," he told me, and then he kissed me again. We stayed outside of the observation deck for a while, my mind unable to keep track of time due to the lack of oxygen, and the addictive taste of Eric's mouth on mine. It was when he shifted and showed me just how much of an effect I gave him did he stop kissing me, and also gave me the most adorable blush I had ever seen on a man. I gave him a quick kiss after he set me down, and told him he'd be okay before I lead him into the dark room.

Max for the very first time looked at me proudly, a smug expression on his face. He shook my hand, his grasp firm and mine equally so, but he held my forearm in such a way that exclaimed dominance, I knew then that he sought to take credit for my success, even though his demeanor toward me from the beginning had never been friendly, he had very little faith in me from the start. I knew that changes would have to be made when it came to leadership choices, especially from a biased point of view like his. Still, despite his false smile and his side cast looks, I reveled in the glee his announcement gave me, let myself fall into pride as the whole of Dauntless and its initiates cheered, shouted, clapped and screamed my name, cried out in excitement for me. It was invigorating, and the pumped music and the gleeful whoops certainly added to the spree of excitement in me. What lead me to take Eric to a dancefloor of all places, I didn't know.

His hands were on me, fingers dug deep into my skin enough to leave bruises, he was blatantly uncomfortable, the look on his face and the annoyance in his eyes had explained that enough to me. It was also the glares he gave any man who came close enough to touch me, and the snarl on his lips that told me he wanted more out of me than just to kiss me. Either way, the music was loud, and his lips were by my ear, his arms were either around me or protecting me. We stayed in the dark lights, kissing, letting the flashes of green, orange, blue, red and purple paint our skin and clothes, let our tongues mingle, let our bodies move against one another. The music was too loud to talk over. And that was okay.

Christina was too out of it and lost in the moment when Eric decided to pull me away from the celebration, his fingers locked around my wrist, the look in his eye was sure. Though any type of gaze he threw at me was anything but violent, I was unsure of him at first, but then I was at his apartment, on his couch, talking to him like it was nothing, his hands always on me. Then he said something that made me reconsider my relationship with him, "One kiss from you isn't enough,"

"You had more than one," I replied, pulling my bare and sore feet up on the couch to tuck under me. His hand on mine tightened, his fingers squeezing, his lips pursed and he glared at the wall, words caught in his throat. I'd never before seen Eric so caught up, so careful with his word choice, "I made up my mind," He said finally, loudly, "You're moving in with me,"

"What?" I laughed, "Eric, you can't be serious,"

"I've never been more serious of anything in my life," He said, looking directly at me, his gaze boring hot into my skin. I didn't know how, but suddenly his lips were on mine, or maybe it was the other way around, but his hands were holding the apex of where my thigh met my behind and his fingers squeezed. My own hands were ruining his hair, nails scraping along his scalp, legs straddling his. At some point his hands slid up under my dress, up my lower back. My zipper was undone, and my clothes were falling off, his shirt was somewhere on the floor.

My nails dug into his shoulders, scraped down his back and left bright red lines along his muscles. Then his belt was undone, and my back was hitting the soft mattress of his bed, his hands burned into my skin, his lips slow moving, gentle. He was giving me time to say no, he was waiting for me to reject him. I replied in full that I wanted every bit of what he wanted to give, arching my chest and back as his lips traveled south on my skin, his hips pressed and softly rubbing against mine, creating delicious friction.

His fingers drew patterns to my skin as he removed my only under garment, and he didn't shift his eyes from mine until he touched me, making my eyes roll back and my head tilt far into the pillow. His name was a quick and soft gasp drawn from my lips when he pushed into me for the first time, my legs wrapped tight around his waist, his motions painstakingly slow, my hips bucking urged him on. The low sound I drew from him made me smile, my hands pulling on his hair, my lips seeking his and instead landed along his jaw to his ear. and the low curses and pleasured strings of words that fell from his lips regarding how I felt also boosted my courage.

I'd had sex before, but never like what he had given to me, his fingers locked with mine, his lips kissing everywhere he could whilst his hips ground and rubbed and moved rhythmically against mine, I wanted to dig my nails into him for the slow pace, it wasn't enough, I wanted the vigor the jerky manner he had, the violence, but at the same time, everything about what we did together was all that I ever needed. His groans and his soft huffs against my skin or lips drove me up to a new high when he pressed against all the right places. I'd admit he took me places I never thought possible with Tobias, places my ex never would have been able to achieve. It was when he brought me to a climax that had me trembling, gasping and moaning louder than ever did I tell him I loved him. Right after he tumbled over the edge for me, groaning my name, bucking hard into me and then stilling, breathing that he loved me too, that he always had.

He didn't say anything else to me, only said those three words and my name, told me over and over again as I claimed him afterwards in my own way, let him grip onto me leaving bruises as I switched up our style. His muffled grunts came to be eaten by my lips, my hands in his hair and cupping his face as we rocked, my body rising and falling on his, rubbing sweat sheened skin on skin together, bodies pressed firmly, sticking and melding together. His hands hand guided me, his hips tensed and urged me to go faster, something I found amusing. His sculpted body tensing and relaxing, his back straightening as he put his arms around me, holding me as again, I reached the pinnacle of bliss around him, moaning out his name, panting it and gasping as pleasure rocked through me. Eric milked me but continuing to guide me down on him, his hips meeting mine. Then after a minute or so he let out a low satisfied groan and buried his face into the juncture of my neck and shoulder. His hot pants making me shiver and tingle as he held me tighter.

It was the next morning, or afternoon that we woke up together, his thumb traced up along my tattoos, my leadership tattoos, he counted them, lips moving without sound to follow it, his eyes half lidded as he studied me in the way former Erudite do. My eyes grabbed his attention that morning, and I told him that I'd stay with him, that I was his.

It was found only much later in my life that he had loved me from the start, been infatuated with the very idea of me, wanted me enough that it killed him to see me with a man who spat lies through straight teeth. I had no idea of his affections, I had assumed he disliked me, given the foul looks and the sneer, the orders that were just that I never would have guessed he wanted me in a way I had no experience in. I never would have assumed that he wanted to stay with me forever, as his alone. Eric married me a year later, and it was a few months after that did I find out that I could give him more than what he could have ever hoped for.

"Mommy!" A little voice screamed, squeals and giggles followed after the voice and I grinned, closing my eyes and breathing in deeply. I was never going to get these dishes done, not with Eric chasing our child through our house. Our little boy screamed again, and he laughed loudly, a toothy open mouthed grin spreading over his face as his feet slapped against the tile to the kitchen. He ran into me, all of his 43 pounds and 4 years, it was one of the only things he could say. One of three anyway. His tiny arms encircled my knees and his tiny hands gripped at my jeans. I laughed and dried my hands, listening for my husband, who lumbered into the living room, spotting our son in the corner of his eye but pretending to look for him anyway.

Our baby wriggled his way behind me as I turned to look at Eric, who made obvious gestures of searching, clicking his tongue when he couldn't find any traces. "Caine, where are you? Come out bud, so I can tickle you!" Caine giggled from behind me, peeking his head out off balance. Then Eric made a big show of spotting him, then rushing after our speedy boy and scooping him up, lifting the squealing and giggling monster into the air and pulling him to his arms. A gleeful expression on his face. Eric had never been happier, never been so in love with someone, aside from me of course. He never thought he'd have me though, to hold and to console, never would have ever hoped for a child he created, fearful of the idea. He fell in love with Caine the moment I told him I was pregnant, and I knew things would be alright.

Caine giggled and hugged his father, pressing his soft puffy cheeks and mop of curly blonde hair against Eric's shoulder. I smiled and sighed, taking a few steps toward and approaching Eric, who had a loving gaze locked on me. He stopped in front of me, grasping my hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the lines that ran over my left handed fingers, all but my ring finger. His gruff voice mumbling to me, "I love you so much,"

"I love you too," I told him, smiling as he looked at me like I was his world. Then he leaned in and kissed me, a soft kiss that I loved but left me wanting more. My own hand moved to thread through and attempt to comb my sons hair, failing and making him giggle at me. I placed a long kiss on his forehead and fought back the happy tears that brimmed my eyes, those two boys were my everything. Always would be. All thanks to one kiss.

Last chapter, oh it's been so fun. I loved this story, and the love I've received from this line made me smile so much. I'm glad I could string together a happy ending though it may seem abrupt. Thanks for reading!