A/N: Been a minute for this story, but here's a cute update that also prompted me to change it from T to M! Haha. I mean, they're newlyweds...
(oh, to be a newlywed).
Anyway, here's a fluff chapter, and we'll get back to a plot soon.
Enjoy!
December 24, 1990 | Elizabeth
Her eyes flutter open to see him in her direct line of sight—a view she never has tired of, and that she hopes she never will tire of, either. After watching him sleep so peacefully for a few snores, she lets her eyes move over his shoulder and to the window, seeing the beautiful blanket of white outside, glimmering against the bright blue sky behind it.
Grazing her tongue over her bottom lip, she stretches momentarily, trying to not wake him so soon. It's not really all that early, but why should they need to both be awake? It's Christmas Eve, they're snowed in in this cabin in the mountains, and it's still technically their honeymoon since they couldn't get off the mountain. But damn, the urge to pee is going to force her to get out of this cozy, warm bed with her beautiful, sleepy husband tucked in so nicely.
She rolls out slowly, tiptoeing over to the bathroom overly cautious to not wake him. She stopped only to tie her robe on her otherwise naked body—too cold to be walking around without clothes this morning. When she finishes in the bathroom, she comes back to bed and leaves the robe on the bedpost, crawling in carefully. After a few more minutes, a thought crosses her mind, and she decides 9:02 is late enough for him to be sleeping after all.
Once underneath the blankets, she scoots her body the rest of the way under them, searching blindly in the dark for his thighs. With him laying on his back, she finally finds his knee cap and gently touches it, not even budging him at all. She smirks when she realizes he's still quietly snoring, moves her hands up his thighs with a feathery touch, and finally finds what she'd been looking for this entire time.
She spits in her hand quietly and takes him in her hand, slowly pumping once before she hears a groan and feels his leg stir underneath her. She smirks a little and does another slow pump, feeling him harden underneath her palm and fingers.
"Babe?" She hears him mumble from above the blankets.
She simply responds by putting his length in her mouth, wrapping her lips around tightly in a suction motion. Judging by the loud, drawn out moan that she receives in turn, he is awake now. She slides her mouth down further until he's reached the back of her mouth, and she goes the half inch further before she gags a little, coming back up with her teeth gently dragging his shaft.
"I married a vixen." He murmurs, reaching under the blankets and taking her hair in his hands, then suddenly pushing the blankets down their bodies.
The brightness hurts her eyes for a moment, but she flutters them open and finds his eyes, smirking around him as she sinks back down and bobs up. Her mouth lets go with a pop, "Are you calling me a reindeer?" She teases, referring to Vixen from the Christmas stories.
He's been watching her this entire time, but he can't seem to break his trance to smile at her joke. She doesn't mind, though, she's just happy to have him in this trance that he's in.
"Good morning," she mumbles, taking her mouth off once more and crawling up his body, kissing him passionately. Her back arches so that her hips push into his, her breasts brushing his chin when she takes her lips away and crawls onto all fours.
"Good morning," he mumbles back, watching her as she crawls backwards a few inches.
She reaches underneath her belly and blindly finds his shaft again, directing it between her legs and sliding down painfully slow. She closes her eyes and stops breathing, waiting until she's all the way down to let out that breath. Her hips don't move, she just sits there and adjusts for a moment before opening her eyes and finding his, "Merry Christmas Eve." She coos, leaning back down onto her hands.
It's a bit sloppy the way she's doing things, so when she leans down, she hears a pop and feels him slide out of her. She laughs a little, but Henry groans before he laughs and writhes underneath her. "Is this my gift from the missus?" He asks coyly.
She's putting him back in and repeating the process, but this time making sure he's locked in, so to speak, before leaning over. She knows that he loves when she leans like this, her breasts dangling just above him and within easy access. "One of them." She coos back, leaning down to kiss him again before rolling her hips.
He moans into her mouth, and the vibrations make her already-on-fire body explode as though someone poured a little gas onto the flame. She moans back, and when she feels his hands engulf her breasts, she gasps and breaks the kiss. "Mr. McCord," she mumbles, eyeing him while holding his jaw with one hand, steadying herself on his pillow with the other while she continues to roll her hips like smooth waves. "Are you getting a bit handsy?"
The way he smirks at her makes her feel like she's going to lose it all there, but she keeps it together even though she feels his hips meeting hers, too, knowing he's moving his own hips in perfect rhythm with her. "I believe I am, Mrs. McCord." He answers in a low growl, brushing his thumbs across her hardened buds before giving another squeeze.
She sits up a little more and rides him a bit faster, her head falling backward as she feels him squeezing and—God, now twisting. She lets out a guttural sound, her hands coming up to her neck and sliding down her chest, stopping and holding onto his wrists to ground herself before she completely floats away. "God, Henry," she murmurs, "Harder." She beckons, and without argument, he follows instruction.
She's picked up the pace, too, and the intensity. Her legs will be sore tomorrow, but there's not been a day since their wedding where some part of her hasn't been sore. So she doesn't care—all she cares about is the tightening in her stomach and the way the rest of her body is on fire, too.
"You're so damn beautiful," Henry growls, his hips meeting hers and creating a nice slapping noise while he holds on to her breasts—both of them having to hold on to each other, it seems.
She leans down again, letting her body fall forward, actually, and smashes her lips into his so hard that she almost winces. But the sex running through her veins keeps her from feeling much pain, but she knows it'll make her hurt later. His tongue in her mouth, has searched every inch of it while hers does the same in his. This is raunchy¸ she has the wherewithal to think just briefly, but when the smacking noise becomes harder, she groans into his mouth and stops thinking about anything other than the way he feels inside her.
"Henry…" She moans, her legs starting to betray her as they gear up to be seized.
As though her voice was all he needed, she feels his release, and she steadies her hips and braces for her own surge, coming as soon as she felt him squeeze her breasts one more time. She cried out just as loud as the other noises she's made this morning, and she's so glad, again, that they're in the mountains and far away from other people. She can be as loud as she wants, and he can be as loud as he wants, too.
Their moans vibrated each other's body that was now glued together with a glisten of sweat and tiredness. When she starts being able to feel her limbs again, she opens her eyes and looks at him, bringing her hand up to his hair and pushing it through, "How's that for a good morning?" She whispers, raising a brow mischievously.
He bites his lip before contorting his body enough to kiss her again, "I don't know how I got so lucky to marry a woman like you." He admits, kissing her once more, then again, and then again until she giggles and they break apart.
"Henry…" she warns playfully, pushing his chin away from her as she pulls her shoulder up and shies away from him, "I'm not even finished with this orgasm, don't get us started again."
"You say that like I was the one to get us started this time." He playfully accuses, and she gives him a look.
"Touche." She replies, moving off him and sliding into the side of his body, his arm wrapping around her.
And silence fell around them, a comfortable, content silence as she listened to his heartbeat whenever she could hear it over the sound of her own heart beating in her ears.
December 24, 1990 | Henry
He's been laying here with her in almost-complete silence, the only thing he could hear other than his own breathing occasionally was her breathing, too. Minutes had gone by since either of them moved, and she was still lying in his arm, snuggled up against his side. As he stares at the ceiling, he wonders again how a man like him got so lucky to marry Elizabeth Adams. He didn't deserve her, did he?
He feels her weight pressing against his side more, and when he turns his head down to look, he sees her sound asleep again. He smiles when he realizes she's worn herself out already this morning, and honestly, she wore him out, too. He yawns and pulls the blankets up over them so they wouldn't get cold for their morning nap, then shuts his eyes and nuzzles his face down in her hair, taking in the smell of her shampoo.
After a while of napping, he feels her moving against his side, and it wakes him up enough to look at the clock: 10:58—they'd gotten a little longer of a nap than he'd expected them to. "Good morning again," he murmurs with a little smile, watching as she comes to life again.
She's looking around as though she's lost, then blinks with heavy eyelids before stretching and grunting, "Good morning," she murmurs, her toes rubbing up against his leg as she stretches those, too. "What time is it?"
When he tells her, she nods, "No wonder I woke up," she says with a snicker, "I'm hungry."
"For?" Henry asks, rubbing his own eyes, too.
She's sitting up and looks back at him, resting her mouth on her shoulder. Even though it was covered, he could still tell her lips were giving him a grin, and it makes him do the same. "For love." She teases, bringing her shoulder up higher in a shy manner. When he winks at her and is about to get up and pounce on her, she shakes her head, and he whimpers just slightly—he's not even sure she heard it. "But I need to eat something first or I might pass out in the middle of it." She says, "And that would be pretty embarrassing."
He laughs a little and sits up, too, kissing her cheek. "Good thing we still have all those groceries I swore we should buy." He says, sliding out of the bed and putting his boxers on, then pajama pants and a tee.
She's doing the same, but wearing one of his sweatshirts and his pajamas instead of her own. "I still think it was a bit excessive when you were buying," she snips, "But now I'm glad for it, otherwise we'd be here with no food." She points out, "And that would be bad for me and you, and not because you'd be hungry, too, but because I'd be awfully angry."
He listens as she grunts and turns his head to see her stretching, her hands tousling in her already-tousled hair as she comes back to neutral. He smirks and walks over to her, kissing her on the lips and laying his hand just above her rear, "I love you, Mrs. McCord."
"I love you, Mr. McCord." She coos back, kissing him again.
He peppers her neck with kisses as she laughs, pushing him away half-heartedly, "Not again, Henry! Food! Food! We must have food!" But he's growling as he kisses everywhere he can, and his head as managed to find its way under her shirt—his shirt—and he's leaving kisses up her breastbone and little suction-cup kisses on her breasts. "Henry!" She screeches, pushing his head down and back out of her shirt.
When he comes up, he's smiling, of course, and he sees some of his hair hanging down over his eyes. He blows it up out of his face and looks at her reddened cheeks, "Just making sure everything's good under there." He coos, shrugging his shoulder over-innocently and batting his eyes for good measure.
She pushes his shrugged shoulder and makes a face at him, "We have to have calories to burn, Henry." She reminds, walking toward the kitchen and dragging him by the waistband of his pants.
His eyes widen as he feels the tug, but he dutifully follows her into the kitchen and then breaks free when she scoots up on the counter, "Pancakes?" She requests sweetly.
He looks back at her while already getting the ingredients out for just that dish, "Pancakes it is." He answers , setting everything on the counter beside her while she gets the bowl they used for yesterday's breakfast out of the clean side of the sink.
When he turns around and catches a glimpse of her not paying attention to him, he can't help but smile a little, his lips just barely turning up. What a beautiful woman he has sitting on this countertop, a woman he gets to have by his side for the rest of his life. God, he thinks to himself, Please grant me a long life with her.
It had warmed up just enough today that they decided to go for a walk through the woods. And after burning off the pancakes on the couch, they decided they both needed a bit more calorie intake before heading out, making sandwiches and eating them before bundling up and trekking off into the snowy woods.
Her muffed hand is swinging in his, and he looks over at her to see her nose tucked into the top of her jacket. "You warm enough?" He asks, breaking the bit of silence that had come over them.
She looks over as if she were surprised, then nods and smiles a little at him. "I'm good." She says, "My nose is cold, but it's getting warmer." She admits, burying her face back down in her jacket.
He reaches over and pulls her beanie down over her ears a little more, not wanting them to get too cold. She thanks him, and they walk in that comfortable silence once more.
Everything looked beautiful today—more so than it had, even. The gray skies were replaced with that vibrant blue that mimicked his wife's eyes, and the snow looked like it was shimmering from the sunshine coming down on it. Of course, everything was still frozen—these were some of the coldest temps they'd seen in a while. If they had access to the news, they might come to find it would be the record temps for the year.
The trees—normally looking dead and sad—outstretched their knotty limbs across the blue, waiting for their moment to grow once more. The birds sang beautiful songs, as though they were caroling and bringing joy to the two lovebirds walking through the snow on their honeymoon. He watches as a female cardinal lands in their path, and it stops Elizabeth in her tracks. He looks over at her and then back at the bird, curious as to why she stopped. But then another thing piques his curiosity, too: the bird is just sitting there, staring at the two of them. He feels a new set of chills go down his body.
"What is it?" He asks Elizabeth softly.
"Do you feel that?" She asks.
He looks over at her, "Feel the chills?"
"Yeah, but…" She shrugs her shoulders, rarely at a loss for words. "The other feeling."
He thinks for a moment and looks back to the bird, finally shaking his head after deciding he must not feel whatever it is she's feeling. "I don't think so." He concludes.
She's standing so still that he almost forgets she's holding his hand, and he looks down to find it, then looks at her face as she watches the bird and tilts her head. "I always saw cardinals after my parents died." She says, "And I'm not…" her voice gets lost for a moment, then she shrugs and clears her throat, "I'm not very superstitious," she admits, "But it always felt…I don't know…comforting, in a way. They would show up in places whenever I felt like I could use some guidance or something, even though they've never…obviously they've never spoken to me."
Henry laughs quietly, "I'd be a little worried if they did, babe." He admits.
She quickly smiles at him, then returns back to the bird, watching it a few more seconds before her attention, and his, is caught by another bird in the tree, fluffing its feathers up. There's the bright red one up on a limb, shaking off some snow that he's collected. He swoops down next to the female bird, and Henry watches in amazement, wondering if this is somehow a dream.
Elizabeth is staring back and must have finally gained the courage to speak again, "Hi," she says to the birds, and Henry watches as she lets go of his hand and crouches down, resting her elbows on her knees.
The birds are both still watching her, and they hop forward three times almost in unison, tilting their heads every which way before the female bird flutters her wings, too, and flies the rest of the distance between them. She lands right in front of Elizabeth's feet, and Elizabeth just is looking down in awe.
But their time was short lived because the bird tilted her head twice at Elizabeth, then flew off with the male bird over the trees.
Elizabeth watched for as far as she could until neither of them were visible, and she turns her head to Henry, "Was that crazy?" She asks.
His mouth is gaping open, the condensation filling the air every time he breathes. "I don't know," he mumbles, shocked at what he witnessed, too. "I mean…birds don't come that close." He says, trying to make sense of it. "Right? They don't come that close…" He's almost trying to tell himself, but he's not sure he's very convincing.
"Right." Elizabeth mumbles, looking in the direction the birds flew off to and then swallowing thick. She takes his hand again and takes a deep breath, "Does God send signs?" She asks Henry, moving forward and prompting his frozen legs to move, too.
He looks over at her and swallows thick, "I…I don't know." He says, still dumbfounded. "But I think God finds ways to comfort us in hard times." He admits.
She nods, staying quiet, and he suddenly snaps out of his stupor to wonder what she's thinking about. He wonders, too, if God does send those little things to us—those God-winks, as his mother calls them. How else could he explain the two birds that just appeared in front of them, seemingly knowing Elizabeth well enough to go up to her?
December 24, 1990 | Elizabeth
She felt shaken up, for sure. But she walked in silence next to Henry still, her mind going a thousand miles an hour wondering what that was all about. God-winks? Maybe Elaine was onto something. Elizabeth didn't know much about religion, but something comforted her in knowing the man walking beside her—the man walking beside her the rest of her life—was studying religion and grew up religious. Something in her wants to be religious, too, but she's never been sure about any of it. At least she can bounce her questions off him now.
She looks up from her feet and gasps, looking over at Henry. "Do you see that?" She asks.
Henry squints his eyes a little and looks in front of them. "No?" He says.
She snorts and raises her brow, "Maybe you should get your eyes checked," she teases, picking up her speed and jogging a little with him in tow. "See?" She says, pointing to the pond that was completely frozen over.
He looks at her, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Why would I be thinking anything else?" The twinkle in his eye looked so unrealistic, but Elizabeth saw it happen. She smiles at him and lets go of his hand, "Race you!" She says like a child on the playground, running to the pond as best as she could in this thick pile of snow with her multiple layers of clothing holding her back a bit.
"Hey!" He calls out, and she hears his footsteps running behind her and trudging through the snow, even though she can barely hear anything over the sound of her own breathing as she tries to make it through the icy air. "Unfair start!"
"All's fair in love and war!" Elizabeth teases, running out of breath right before she gets to the pond. She stops and tries to catch her breath, leaning over on her knees for a moment as she watches the ice glisten. It definitely looked thick and solid, so just as she was starting to step out on it, Henry passes by her and skids on the ice as though he were surfing. "Henry!" She screeches, laughing as she watches him.
Miraculously, he doesn't fall. It was the smoothest thing she's seen in a while, something John Travolta would've done on the dance floor in Saturday Night Fever maybe. She puts her hands up to her mouth and laughs into her mittens, watching as he is trying to catch his balance again once his sliding stopped.
"Pretty cool, right?" He jests.
She nods and steps out carefully on the ice, making sure she has her own balance before starting to glide on the ice herself. Henry is gliding back over to her, and she feels his hands around her waist as they glide together. Laughing, she raises her brows as she pays attention to where they're going, "You better not wreck us." She warns playfully, "The last thing anyone needs is to find our bodies in this pond."
He laughs from behind her rests his chin on her shoulder, "I got us." He whispers in her ear, the warmth making her shiver.