ATTENTION: CONTAINS DESCRIPTIVE EROTICA. I don't write the explicit stuff, but this is very descriptive and contains some material that may be very intense, especially for a survivor. Although for many survivors the ultimate revenge after sexual assault is reclamation of pleasure and intimacy, for others it is very hurtful to even contemplate that stage. I have profound respect for everyone's healing process and sensitivities. This is the alternate ending chapter.


In a dream Anna watched John walk; he turned and smiled at her. The mix of his features, that blend of innocence and ferocity, was enchanting. Even with the cane his stride was long-legged, confident, his smile lifting the curves of his cheeks into a grin that was at once sly and adorable, his eyes sparkling dark on her. Anna opened her arms and he lifted her; she wrapped her legs around his waist. He was kissing her as she combed her fingers deep into his hair. His arms tightened around her hips.

The snake poked its nose on the window. Anna woke to the sound of a branch thumping on the pane and as the dream dissipated the snake shot away, quicker than lightening. It wouldn't come in the house again. If it was in the garden or on the street Anna could stomp on it but even better now, she didn't care much. It was beneath her concern. Let the wind throw branches or snakes.

Her full attention went right back to the man sleeping beside her. His deep, regular breath created the rhythm she slept to, that she couldn't remember sleeping without. In her life she had never slept more contentedly than beside him. Underneath all they had been through for the last months, her feelings for him had never changed. The whole time she had been wrestling with all the monsters that emerged from the attack she had still been content with him, melting with tenderness for him, admiring him, loving him, wanting him.

And she wanted him now.

Anna's breath caught. She felt around inside herself. Was it true?

It was.

She wanted him. Her dream had made her warmer than she had been in months. They had talked about it. He would wait for her. He wanted to be married to her even without the physical act, and she hadn't been ready.

But now she was ready to begin again. Not to completely take him yet, but to begin. She knew how she wanted him tonight.

Then, she remembered. What if he's not ready? A man is always ready, was one of her old thoughts, but this was a marriage. She needed to respect how he felt as well. Not only his feelings and not only her own, but both.

Anna pressed herself against his back. He stirred, rasping, "You alright?"

"Yes," she kissed the back of his neck. He rolled over, blinking.

"Yes?" he asked, stroking her hair and her cheek.

Anna pulled him into a kiss, which quickly melded her mouth to his. He cleared his throat.

"You need to sleep," said Anna, "I'm sorry,"

"No, no, wait," he reached for his water glass, took a few gulps and then was back.

"Did you dream?"

"I did,"

"How bad was it?"

"It wasn't bad. It wasn't at all bad,"

"That's good," his eyes had cleared.

"I dreamed about you,"

"And it wasn't bad?" humor had crept into his voice.

"No. And you've been...you have been wonderful, John,"

He began with a laugh but Anna caught his lips in another kiss, sliding her hand around his waist and pulling herself to him. Her hands held his face, wandered through his hair, cupped the back of his neck. She pulled back.

"This is a marriage," she said, "So I want to know how you feel about-"

"Whatever you want," he interrupted, his arms going around her, "Anything,"

She was nearly panting. She pressed her palm on his chest to feel his heart beginning to pound. She crawled up onto her hands and knees and began undressing him. He helped her, slipping out of his pajamas more quickly than she had ever seen him do. She laughed.

"Just-"

"Anything,"

"Don't touch me. Not yet,"

"What?" he was crestfallen, but rallied.

"Just let me-"

"Yes, of course," he grimaced, nodding quickly. "Alright,"

Anna threw off her nightgown, looking down at her shadow on his body. The moonlight came in behind her and she remembered; they had not seen each other completely undressed in-could it really have been so many months now? Could it?

"You're so beautiful," he sighed, "God, so beautiful. In the moonlight, with your hair down like that. You are Venus herself. I'm married to Venus,"

Anna was kissing his face, his mouth. She laid her body on his and felt him shudder under her, almost violently. She slid her body down over his and he moaned her name. Anna was tasting him. How familiar the taste of him was, how safe, how warm and how luscious again. He was panting now, gripping handfuls of the sheet at his sides.

She wrapped her hand around him and had a dark little thought she would never share with anyone, except him, when they were both over one hundred years old.

He was twice the size of the snake. The snake had been narrow and vicious, stabbing, repeatedly bruising her before he tore her inside. It had been painful to urinate for days after the attack. But just now the attack was long, long ago and worlds away.

Only her husband was here, long and broad and generous. He was everything she wanted. She would never allow another thing to come into this bed. No more thoughts of...never mind.

Anna lapped with a long, languid lap of her tongue. John made a harsh, desperate sound. She circled, dipped, enclosed him and drew long and deep, working her mouth wetly, tickling with her tongue, stroking him with a drawn-out, commanding motion. He said her name now with an anxious edge, almost like a warning.

"Give it to me," she begged silently, "Give it to me now, now,"

She hadn't heard a series of cries like that from him in a long time as he pulsed, nearly pounding in her hand, spilling little jets into her mouth. She finished him with devotion, answering his need with every instinct she had, drinking deep.

He was trembling under her hands as they wandered up to stroke the dew on his chest and his upper lip, as she licked every stray drop from his belly.

"Can I touch you n-?"

"Yes," said Anna, and she was under him, being kissed and kissed.

"Tell me..." he said finally, looking down at her.

"What?"

"Tell me that wasn't just for me," He gazed at her hard, his eyes darting.

"No, it wasn't. It was not," laughed Anna, and her face was again covered in kisses. Anna soaked them up, soaked him in.

"Can I kiss your throat?"

Anna cupped his cheek. "You don't have to ask every-"

"I want to," he said, "We'll go slow, very slow, unless you tell me otherwise. Let me...let me be at your service," he licked his lower lip. "Tell me where to kiss you, how to kiss you and tell me when to stop," he smiled that warm, devastating smile.

Anna nodded. "Kiss my throat,"

He remembered the spot. After caressing her entire throat with his lips he focused on the spot just under her ear. Anna craned her head back and made sounds she hadn't made in almost a year. His lips crept under her chin, up to her mouth again.

Anna took his face in her hands and guided him down. He hadn't forgotten a thing. He remembered how to glide and tease, how the tenderest and gentlest kisses there caused the most pleasure, the kind that ransacked her mind. He continued until she pushed him down; he made a loving study of her belly.

Anna was quaking, writhing under his mouth. It was like swimming in clear water after nearly dying of thirst. Every touch of his was nourishment. She pushed him down.

After only a few seconds Anna realized what was emerging, and froze. She remembered, suddenly and with horrible clarity, the last time she had screamed. He stopped, looking up at her.

"Are you alright?"

She looked down at him, at the man who loved her, and realized she was ready.

"I-I'm..." she was oddly shy now, with a tremble in her voice, "I'm going to scream, John,"

He gave her a dreamy smile.

"It's-I..."

"I'll explain it if the neighbors call the constable," he said. Then, "I love you, Anna,"

Anna took a deep breath and pushed him down again.

She closed her eyes, allowing all the sensations to build, to climb, to begin lighting up every pore of her skin, every nerve in every limb, escalating agonizingly. Anna trusted him and trusted the ascent, depending completely on him, riding up with his urging and hanging on every tantalizing stroke. When it seized her she threw herself in. It was like throwing her body into a hurricane. She heard her own scream of pure pleasure, the sound of love launching full freedom, full release. Anna rode it through as he continued to drive her on. No pillows, nothing muffled, nothing made polite. This scream she needed to hear.

He knew when to stop. He climbed over her, wrapped her tightly in his arms and rolled over, bringing her on top of him.

"You're mine," she nearly growled it.

"Completely,"

The moon was drifting away from the window; now the room had darkened and all of her senses were filled with him, the cozy scent of him, the salty, electric taste of him that she savored smugly in her mouth like a stolen sweet, the soft fur of his chest under her cheek, his rushing sighs as he nuzzled her hair, his arms surrounding her with warmth.

They slept deep in the dark without dreaming.