AN: OK, it seemed like some of you wanted a little more, so I decided it's a new year and all, so I wouldn't keep you waiting too long! If you've not read the previous two chapters that I've posted over these past two days, please make sure you read them first. You'll want to read them in order!
I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!
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Jean-Luc didn't need more than the invitation that he felt like he'd been waiting to hear for his entire life—or, at the very least, for a great deal of it. He didn't wait for more. He couldn't. He lifted his weight off of Beverly enough to start trying to figure out where to begin with removing her sodden clothes. Her fingers went to the bottom of her shirt, and he let his follow, taking her lead. Together, they pulled the soaked shirt off of her—which was truly no small feat, since the water it absorbed made it heavy and determined to cling to her body—and Jean-Luc threw it to the side. Beverly's fingers rubbed at his skin, searching for the bottom of his own shirt, and he helped her to remove his, as well, before he tossed it to join hers in the grass.
Beverly came back for a kiss, and he met her. The exchange was no less hungry than before, and some small voice in Jean-Luc's mind wondered if Beverly had felt the same as he had.
Was she feeling the same primal need, now, for the sweet relief that was promised soon?
Jean-Luc started to pull out of the kiss, and Beverly caught is face and pulled him back. He didn't fight her, happy to let her have what she wanted and needed. In a feverish rush, they exchanged what was only a small down payment, as far as Jean-Luc was concerned, on every kiss that he'd craved from her since first he'd laid eyes on her.
When, finally, he was free to start exploring her body, he felt the coldness of skin just starting to warm against his lips and tongue. He felt the chill of water left behind from the recently shed shirt. He felt the bumps that might have been from the cold, or might have been from the new sensations that made her shiver even as he tasted her skin.
He shivered, too, in response, overwhelmed with the sensations and the satisfaction of finally indulging long-held desires.
They exchanged no words. There were sounds—like the sounds they'd made before, the ones that belonged to some language that they both seemed to instinctively know, one that might have belonged to some distant ancestors. Together, they rid Beverly of the rest of her soggy clothing, and she was laid bare to him on the blanket. Without any show of shame or need to be coy, she laid herself open to him like an offering to do with what he wished. Aching with need and desire, he accepted what was laid before him, and he enjoyed it unapologetically. There were whimpers and moans from Beverly, in the absence of actual words, and each sound of want or appreciation only spurred Jean-Luc on more to explore, and touch, and taste at his leisure.
He only hastened himself at all because he feared that he wouldn't be able to hold out as long as he wanted to have all that he craved. He was barely out of his own water-logged pants before he brought them together, practically crashing into Beverly. For a moment, he wrapped her in his arms, and he held her close, each of them as completely entangled with the other as was possible. Holding her, he breathed an apology into her ear in case he'd been too anxious.
She pulled his face around to meet hers, kissed him once more, and held his eyes as she held his face in her hands.
"Move, Jean-Luc," she'd said to him, her voice the softest thing about their encounter so far. "Please. Let go."
He listened to her. He was powerless not to.
And, perhaps, for the first time in his life—or, at least, for the first that he could recall—he simply did exactly what she encouraged him to do. He let go.
He let go of his worries and concerns. He let go of any feeling that wasn't directly tied to the sensations of his own body and those of Beverly's body as he enjoyed being with her. He focused on nothing beyond the moment, and the sweet relief of finally having what he'd dreamed of for so long. He thought about nothing except quelling the intense and gnawing hunger that he'd felt by finally having all of her.
When, finally, his body had nothing left to offer, he rolled onto his back, beside her on the blanket, and lie with his eyes closed, waiting for his breathing to return to normal and his pulse to slow. He was still enjoying the lingering sensations on his skin and feelings coursing through his body in the afterglow.
Beside him, Beverly stayed still for a moment, too, perhaps consumed by her own feelings from the experience.
As his pulse slowed, and his breathing returned to normal, and his brain seemed to grow less feverish with burning sexual desire and became cloudier with the quieter desire to sleep, Jean-Luc started to think about what had happened there, between them, on the blanket.
"I'm sorry, Beverly," he said, his voice still sounding not entirely like his own. His throat tightened as he realized how much he meant the apology.
There was a long tick of silence—too long, because Jean-Luc felt his muscles start to tense where, for a short time, they'd felt like over-cooked spaghetti to him, very nearly laughably loose and limber.
"Sorry?" Beverly said, finally.
"I was—not at all gentle or tender with you," Jean-Luc said.
"And I'm not exactly complaining," Beverly said.
She laughed quietly at her own teasing, but Jean-Luc still felt his stomach muscles tighten at the thought that he hadn't behaved very much like a gentleman. In fact, he wasn't sure that he'd behaved like a gentleman at all. He'd wanted to consume her, in every way he possibly could, and he'd done his best to do just that. Even though he truly believed that what she wanted was every bit as important as what he wanted, he couldn't say that he'd exactly paid proper attention to her wants and desires.
Jean-Luc could admit that his primary focus had been his own wants and needs. He had desperately sought his own relief, and her pleasure had been secondary, at best, to his nearly primal desires.
He could blame it all on the fact that he'd felt driven by those desires—half blinded by hunger—but he wondered, now, if that was just an indication of the kind of man he was. If that's who he became when he could hardly stand to deny himself any longer, then that was likely who he was at his core.
And that wasn't very good for Beverly. That wasn't the kind of man that Jean-Luc thought she deserved.
Silence fell between them again. Beside him, Beverly sat up. She leaned over him, her hair still dripping water onto his body occasionally.
"It's entirely normal for you want to sleep after sex, Jean-Luc," Beverly offered. "And if that's why you're quiet…"
He looked at her and he couldn't help but frown in response to her words and his feelings. She was beautiful. Although he knew that there was no such thing as a perfect person, and although she sometimes said and did things that drove him mad, Beverly was as close to perfection as he imagined any woman ever could be.
"Some people feel…emotional after sex," Beverly said. "They want to cuddle. Be close to their…to their partner. It's the oxytocin and, some would say…a little something more. If you don't like that…"
Jean-Luc's chest squeezed. He heard it in her voice. It was the slightest hint of a sound of longing.
He couldn't go back. He couldn't be gentle with her. He couldn't be sure that he was considering what she might want and need during what had just taken place between them, but he could at least recognize her needs in the current moment and do his best to meet them.
He held his arms out toward her, inviting her into them.
"Come here, Beverly," he said. He felt his throat tighten again. He thought about how many times he had at least briefly entertained some imagining of holding her like this—except, honestly, it had never looked quite like this. She deserved a great deal more than a blanket by the side of a lake, but this was what they had. "Let me hold you," he added.
She looked emotional, herself, for a moment, but she came quickly to him and fitted herself against his body as surely as she did nearly every night now. Her bare skin laid against his bare skin. Her wet hair draped over his shoulder, arm, and the blanket around them. She nuzzled her face into his shoulder and he turned enough to kiss her—softly this time.
Jean-Luc drew in a breath and let it out slowly, his whole being seeming to slow as he did. Time around them seemed to come nearly to a stop. For this moment, nothing else mattered.
Peace.
His body felt at peace, though his mind wouldn't quite join in with the rest of him. His mind, ever his enemy at times, continued to churn. It continued to offer him thoughts that he wished he could silence, even for a moment, to more entirely enjoy the feeling of holding Beverly like this. She draped a leg across his body. If he weren't so entirely spent, he knew it would be the kind of thing that would normally arouse him. She wasn't trying to arouse him, now, and he wasn't in any condition to be aroused, again, for some time.
He brought a hand down and rested it on her thigh. He allowed his fingers to flex and massage her muscle.
"Is this OK?" Beverly asked.
"Are you comfortable?" Jean-Luc asked.
"Mmm hmmm," she hummed at him.
"Are you—happy, Beverly?" Jean-Luc asked.
The laugh she let out was little more than a burst of breath.
"Very," she said.
"Then, everything is fine with me," Jean-Luc said.
"Are you happy?" Beverly asked. "More relaxed?"
Jean-Luc considered the question. If he were honest, his mind felt like it was practically swarming with bees in a manner of speaking. Still, he sensed that wasn't what she was asking, and that wasn't the answer she needed at this moment.
He shifted enough to hug her gently, enjoying holding her.
Even if everything fell apart, somehow, and the whole planet around them imploded, Jean-Luc thought, he had this moment, and that would be enough, somehow.
"My body couldn't be more relaxed," he said. He moved his hand, rubbing her arm. He let it trail down to rub over the soft skin of her breast. She didn't respond except to root into him a bit more, seeming to seek out the same comfort and closeness she found each night as she took her place in bed. "With you, Beverly, I am immensely happy."
She sighed a satisfied sigh.
"Me too, Jean-Luc," she offered.
Jean-Luc closed his eyes. He focused on the feeling of the soft blanket beneath him, the sun beating down warm on his body, and Beverly wrapped around him. He let go of his thoughts as best he could, and focused on the sound of Beverly breathing evenly in his arms.
And, soon, he slipped gently and peacefully into a world of dreams.