A/N: I feel like I'm going to upset a few people with this controversial update and for that I can only apologise in advance! But I had to go with my heart (and the popular vote!) With this in mind, this chapter is a pretty strong M.
It was half an hour after his flight from the balcony when Georg finally found Max, smoking a cigar with Major Douglas out in the hotel's vast gardens. Having witnessed his worst nightmare coming true, Georg didn't think he could bear to stay a second longer at the Goldener - but Max was the one with the blasted car keys.
"Gentlemen," he greeted with a stiff nod as he approached, politely refusing a cigar from the Major, "Actually I wondered if it would be possible to have a word with you Max? Alone?"
"Say no more, captain," Major Douglas stubbed out his cigar on a nearby balustrade, "I best go inside anyway and check that my wife isn't spending our life's savings on digestifs! Excuse me..."
When they were finally alone, Georg wasted no time in letting the impresario know of his intentions, "we need to leave," he growled venomously, the image of Maria and her lieutenant still burned into his retinas.
"But I'm having fun!" Max protested.
"I don't care, I'm not staying here a moment longer."
"Why not?" the impresario pouted, "I thought you were doing rather well tonight, despite the whole - you know - 'she doesn't need protecting' fiasco."
"Max!"
"Oh alright!" he huffed, sensing from his friend's tone that it would be unwise to argue any further, "just let me finish my cigar and we'll go, if you insist on ruining my evening."
Georg glared at his watch impatiently. It was already 10.30pm, and he began shifting from foot to foot as Max took great delight in deliberately prolonging his smoking. Both men were too preoccupied glowering at each other in their silent feud to notice the night sky filling with dense clouds, nor the wind beginning to pick up speed.
"For God's sake Max!" Georg snarled, "would you please just-"
But a sudden clap of thunder immediately silenced him, and within a minute the heavens had opened, rain lashing down upon the two of them in great waves.
"Bugger!" Max exclaimed, as they hurried back indoors, shaking the raindrops from their hair and coats once they'd rejoined the dinner party.
"My God, it's really coming down!" The impresario marvelled, pressing his face to the window pane, "We'll have to wait for it to let up before driving," he smirked devilishly, edging his way towards the bar, "What a terrible shame!"
But much to Georg's chagrin another half hour passed and the rain didn't relent, the thunder and lightning instead growing more violent - until eventually a bellboy came to inform the party that the roads out of town had been deemed too treacherous to travel on in the darkness of night.
Dismay enveloped him, and he swore under his breath when he felt Maria's eyes shift guiltily in his direction from across the room, she and the lieutenant having apparently returned from their elicit rendezvous. Perhaps there would be a spare room at the Bristol, he thought hopefully - it was only a few minutes' walk across town and he would at least have Max nearby to distract him. A quick phone call at the concierge desk however, quashed his hopes - for the Bristol was already full. The same held true for the other hotels close by - for it seemed that everybody in Salzburg who'd got caught up in the storm had had a similar idea.
"Not to worry everyone!" lieutenant Norden announced a short while later in the dining room as his guests discussed the trials of making it home, "I've spoken to the manager and he's kindly offered to have his valet chauffeur you to your nearby hotels. Major, Captain - given your circumstances, we've been provided with two additional rooms for the night."
"Well it appears to be all arranged," Major Douglas raised his glass, "bravo lieutenant!"
But Georg failed to share in the older man's enthusiasm, his gaze once again shifting to Maria. She looked away from him instantly, her face a picture of torment - and he wondered how the hell he was going to survive the night in such close proximity to the woman he craved and the man she'd been embracing.
It must've been around 2am later that night when Georg found himself in the lounge of the Goldener, entirely unable to sleep. After retiring from the dinner party, he'd rung Frau Schmidt at home and Elsa out in Vienna to inform them of his whereabouts, and then he'd laid in bed staring at the ceiling - until it became apparent that rest was going to evade him.
The plush lounge was empty and still, draped in the night's shadow as the rest of the hotel slept, the rain still pelting violently against the window panes. Absentmindedly he made his way to the grand piano, knowing he would find solace in allowing his fingers to dance across the ivory keys. With nothing else to wear, he was still adorned in his suit and waistcoat, though he'd abandoned the bow tie and jacket - and suddenly he rather wished he was still wearing the Maria Theresian cross, to remind him that he had once possessed courage in the face of sheer hopelessness.
But as he took a seat at the bench, his fingers toying with a few mindless notes, he felt anything but courageous. Instead he felt defeated, devastated, torn in two - and he could see no way out of the mess he'd created. Taking a deep breath to ease the ache in his chest, he began to play a slow, dark piece from memory, a piece that soothed him, a piece that allowed him to forget for a few short minutes, as he immersed himself in the melody that filled the room.
Maria had spent the better part of two hours watching the rain fall outside her hotel room window, the memory of Captain Von Trapp's face on the balcony still haunting her. Inexperienced in matters of the heart, her own was torn with confusion - but she knew this time that she wasn't suffering from false hope, or naivety, or delusion the way she might've been 10 months ago. No, this time there was no mistaking what she'd seen in his eyes...
The distant sound of a piano from somewhere downstairs pulled her from her daze, and instantly she felt goosebumps prickle her skin under the fabric of the dress she hadn't bothered to change out of. It was a melancholy sound, born from the obvious torment of the elusive pianist, the notes coiling around her heart like ivy - and somehow she knew, without room for doubt, just who the skilful fingers belonged to.
As if in a dream she followed the sound - and sure enough she found him, bent low over the instrument in the lounge, his shoulders hunched with tension and his body cast in shadow. She watched him unseen from the doorway, her heart breaking as the quiet notes filled her with sorrow - until suddenly the words were tumbling from her lips before she could stop them.
"You never wrote..."
At the sound of her voice, the air was instantly knocked from Georg's lungs and his fingers froze against the keys, his heart in his throat. He didn't have to turn around to know who the broken whisper had belonged to - the hairs standing up on the back of his neck were explanation enough. And suddenly the air was thick with the crushing combination of hurt, anguish, desire and longing - her humble words so simple and yet so devastating in their meaning.
"You never came after me..."
So she'd seen it then - his jealousy, his despair, his regret. He could say nothing. He could do nothing. He could scarcely draw breath. The hurt in her voice was twisting his insides into knots and he knew he couldn't even bear to look at her. Didn't she know how much he'd suffered after she'd left? Couldn't she tell how much it was killing him?
The silence stretched on, unbearable in its intensity - until he could take it no longer.
"Thirty-six times..." he eventually whispered to the piano keys, so quietly that Maria wondered if she'd imagined it.
"What?"
He whirled around to face her then and launched from the stool, shocking her into silence with the tortured look in his eyes.
"Thirty-six times I telephoned the abbey in the ten days after you left..."
"I-"
"I counted!" he implored, his face a shadow of grief, "Thirty six times I picked up that damned phone longing to hear your voice! Thirty-six times I had to put it down again, no closer to the truth. Thirty-six times I vowed to try again the next day, and the next day after that. But the Reverend Mother always told me the same damned thing. That you had returned safely and that you didn't want to talk to anyone!"
His voice had risen with every word spoken and his eyes were black with anger by the time he was finished - an anger that she knew wasn't directed at her, but at the tangled web they'd found themselves in. She knew because she felt it too, a desperate resentment for the cards the world had dealt them, for the cruel twists and turns of fate. And before she could prevent it, the bitterness she'd suppressed for so many months finally found an outlet, the target of which was the devastating man in front of her, the man who'd stolen her heart.
"You knew.." she accused, her voice breaking, "you knew what was happening between us last summer! You.. I didn't know any better! I was confused, I.. I was terrified!"
"You think I wasn't?!" He took a step closer, "Of course I knew! And it put the fear of God into me! There were times when we would look at each other and I could hardly breathe! No amount of life experience prepares you for something like that! But I had no right," he shouted, "You wanted to serve God!"
"I did want to serve God!" her voice was a raw scrape, "But that was before.."
She trailed off hopelessly, and his heart galloped against his ribs.
"Before what?"
Silence.
"Before what!"
"Before I felt things I'd never felt before," She whispered, her eyes downcast.
"For me?" He retorted bitterly, "Or for your darling lieutenant?"
"That's not fair!" She defended, her anger rising, "If I'd have known-"
"Yes, I know," he interrupted ironically, "if you'd have known and if I'd have known and if we'd all known, then perhaps things would be different!"
"You had the power to change it!" She accused, "But you did nothing!"
"You did nothing either! You could've come back! You didn't have to run!" His eyes were a sea of unbridled torment, "You could've come back to me..."
"I wanted to come back!" She pleaded, "But then I saw the engagement announcement in the paper! How could I possibly have come to you when you were promised to another!"
"And how could I have possibly come to you when you were promised to God!"
She was shaking her head in disbelief, in utter denial, "this is a nightmare," she murmured, as though to herself, "We need to forget this ever happened... Time will help us forget-"
"It's not going to go away, Maria - you won't forget! Neither of us will forget!" He insisted, his entire body rigid with anguish, "It's always been you, for all this time! Don't you see?!"
"Then you shouldn't have married someone else!" She cried angrily, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, the room pulsating with a dangerous heat.
"Finally, my darling!" he growled, "we agree on something!"
And before she could catch her breath, before she could determine up from down, before she could form a single coherent thought, he was charging across the room and taking her into his arms, crushing his lips to her own with a hoarse sound of longing and defiance.
Almost instantly, her entire world burst into flames - and her first instinct was to push him away, to scream and shout and fight against the raging fire that was suddenly burning through her veins. But all she could manage was a wrenching sob of need, her mutinous hands grasping fistfuls of his shirt and pulling him as close as their bodies would allow. The chaos in her mind only fuelled her desperation, tongues clashing and gasps mingling as they fought for air between furious embraces.
Nothing - not even Alfred's tender affections - could've prepared her for the overwhelming devastation of kissing her captain, nor the impact that his solid body was having on her own. Every nerve burned for more of him, every synapse fired with the heat of his touch - and it appeared the effect was mutual, for he was rasping her name over and over again like a prayer, allowing not so much as a single centimetre between them.
Despite his overpowering need, Georg was beside himself with anguish - knowing all too well that he was forsaking the sanctity of marriage with his deplorable behaviour. He deserved to be keelhauled, but at the very same time, the sheer elation he felt in finally holding Maria in his arms was impossible to ignore. And she didn't seem keen to resist him either, her hands moving frantically up his chest and lacing into his hair, her delectable whimpers setting his body alight.
When she finally broke for air a few minutes later and gasped his name on a torn whisper - not sir, not captain, but Georg - he felt the last of his resolve crumble to dust.
"I know sweetheart, I know," he soothed desperately, feeling the turmoil raging in his own heart and pressing frantic kisses to her throat for fear that she might push him away, "I'm here. I'm here now."
Much to his euphoria, she only clung to him harder, her mouth finding his again in a powerful kiss of her own initiation - and instantly he felt his body ignite with arousal. Somewhere amidst the chaos of their mouths clashing together, his arms moved of their own accord and lifted her from the ground, until he was carrying her in a frantic daze to the piano, setting her atop the sleek wood and sidling between her legs, the fabric of her dress shifting to make room for him. He was ravenous, ragged, desperate as he pressed every inch of himself against her, licking at her mouth, tasting the rapid pulse at the base of her neck.
"I love you Maria, I love you," he confessed hoarsely, repeating it over and over like a mantra between his affectionate assaults, "my darling, my love.."
Her heart in her throat, Maria could only pant against the sheer gravity of the emotions she was experiencing - grief, desire, guilt, anguish, fear, arousal, elation - a deep chasm in her soul for which the man in her arms was the only cure. He loved her. He loved her. And she loved him - of course she did! She'd loved him from the moment he'd blown that silly whistle, and no amount of time, nor distance, nor denial, nor lieutenants could refute it. The realisation forced tears to her eyes, and she clung to him for dear life - the only thing true in a world of confusion. Everything else had ceased to exist - all she knew was his lips, his hands, his ardour, his professions of love. And suddenly she was overcome with a need more powerful than she'd ever experienced before, a need to assuage the unbearable longing she'd suffered, a need to be with him entirely, whatever the cost.
Before she knew what she was doing, her trembling fingers were grappling with the buttons on his waistcoat, parting the lapels and pushing the garment from his shoulders in a flurry of desperation. It wasn't until he felt her doing the same with his shirt that Georg suddenly broke their kiss, pulling back and staring at her in sheer astonishment.
"Maria, I..." he rasped in disbelief as her fingers flew down the row of buttons - but the look in her eyes made the sentence catch in his throat. It was an agonised look of heartache and yearning, of need and hunger, of a love and trust meant only for the two of them. There was no hint of fear, no trepidation - only a raw intensity that left no doubt in his mind as to what she was offering him. And suddenly he was floored, moved beyond words by the enormity of the sacrifices she was willing to make.
"Oh darling..." he choked, taking her back into his arms without a moment's hesitation, no other words needing to be spoken. She sobbed against his mouth, the emotion in the sound almost too intense for him to bear - and she pulled the shirt from his waistband, pushing the material down his body. Her fingers grasped at the muscles of his back, moving rapidly up and over his shoulder blades, down through the smattering of hair on his chest. Near desperate to feel her skin against his own, he pulled the straps of her dress from her shoulders, nipping at the silken skin beneath - and the garment immediately pooled at her waist. Her bra soon followed and before he knew it his mouth was upon her, his tongue dragging across each diamond-hard nipple until she was crying out from the sensation.
Maria had never known pleasure like it, and yet an acute, raging, burning ache was beginning to build inside her, an ache that would send her into despair if he didn't relieve it soon. She was lost to her body's desires, she knew - lost to him and the deepest wishes of her heart.
"I need to have you," she heard him choke against her breast, his voice thick with emotion, "tell me I can have you Maria."
She knew that he was talking not only of a need for her body but a need for her soul as well, a need for her heart. Could she give it to him? She wondered, knowing the danger they were putting themselves in? Knowing the sin they were committing? She wasn't sure of her answer - all she knew was that she didn't want to think. She wanted only to feel.
"You can have me.."
The whispered words were barely out of her mouth before he gave a sob of relief, his fingers tugging the rest of her dress and undergarments away from her body until she was exposed vulnerably beneath him, a pale satin vision as she lay back against the dark wood of the piano.
How beautiful she was, he thought, so unashamed and strong in her passion, even after they had argued so brutally - and he felt an intense rush of fervent awe and hunger as he frantically rid himself of his own clothes in his desperation to be with her. He'd meant every word when he'd confessed his love, and he could hardly contain the whimper of longing that escaped his lips when he finally moved between her silken thighs, his arousal brushing agonisingly against her slick heat as he gathered her into his arms.
"Georg..." she whimpered uncertainly, his name on her lips like music to his ears, "I haven't.. I've never... but I want to. With you.."
The gravity of what he was doing suddenly hit him with the force of a deadly torpedo and he felt as though he'd been doused in cold water. He was about to take her virtue, in the lounge of the Goldener no less. It was unforgivable, deplorable, inconceivable. But she must've sensed his sudden hesitation for her eyes flashed with panic and she looped her arms around his neck.
"Please.. don't stop," she begged, "I.. I love you too, Georg. I love you."
It was the first time she'd said it out loud, the fact that she loved him - and his entire body suddenly burned with another wave of heady arousal, his heart thundering against his ribs in response to her confession. One look in her eyes told him that she meant every word, and his entire world ignited.
"I'm going to love you the way you deserve," he reassured her on a whisper, stroking the hair from her face, his eyes black with desire, "The way I should've done a long time ago."
He skated his tongue along her nipple again, across her collar bone, up her neck, the wet heat of his mouth meeting hers - until suddenly she felt his arousal, like satin and marble all at once, gradually easing her open. Almost instantly he stilled, barely an inch or two inside her, watching her with such adoration in his eyes that she felt any remaining doubt fade to dust.
And then finally, while the blood pounded in her ears, he filled her with one ardent thrust, cradling her in his arms as she hissed against the sudden discomfort. Murmuring words of adoration, he held her there patiently until his hips began a languid rhythm against her, the tenderness she felt giving way to the most wonderful, white-hot friction, a sensation of being stretched and filled.
Georg's body, his heart, were near frantic with the realisation that he was finally making love to her, but he willed himself to be gentle nonetheless, to lose himself in her slowly, to love her devotedly and languidly until she was gasping and trembling beneath him. She gripped his face between her hands, their foreheads pressed together as they shared heated whispers and ragged breaths, the pleasure building not only where their bodies were joined but where their hearts thundered together in synchronisation. Nothing existed besides their entwined limbs and the overwhelming mess of emotions emanating between them, the pleasure, the sorrow, the love, the anger, the fear, the anguish - all of which could be relieved only in the way their bodies relentlessly moved as one.
He carried her with him tirelessly, his stormy eyes only ever leaving her face when he chose to pour his adoration into heady kisses that turned her blood hot, the physical intimacy and emotional distress growing so intense that tears again welled behind her eyes. But he stayed with her, his gaze locked with her own as he rocked their bodies devotedly with deep nudges that skimmed a place made of molten, bringing his thumbs to her eyes and brushing away the tears that had begun to fall.
"I'm here my darling," he rasped, cradling her trembling frame against his to shield her, as he felt every nerve burning, every synapse striving towards his own release, "I'm right here with you."
And it was the strained ecstasy in his voice, the promise behind his words, the sight of his handsome face crumbling with the strain of his own pleasure that finally sent her soaring high above the shadows into a place of blinding white light, her entire body convulsing with the sheer force of it. Mere moments later, her name tearing from his lips and his body wracking with shudders, Georg followed her into the abyss. Falling limp in her arms afterwards and gasping words of adoration against her skin, he cradled her close, pressing kisses to every part of her body that he could reach - until gradually her heartbeat slowed, and eventually her tears stopped falling.
A/N: So what do you think? Are you devastated? Are you happy? Are you hopelessly torn? I know I've been bold with an affair plot but I honestly feel like the separation, the angst, and the intensity of their love would have eventually driven them into each other's arms. But maybe I'm wrong? Your thoughts, as always, are much appreciated!