Fate, Up Against Your Will

Rating: NC-17
Setting: After TS through FA
Spoilers: Through FA
Warnings: NC-17 for sex and adult themes. If you are not 17, go back. Do not pass go. Do not read this. If this type of thing makes you uneasy or uncomfortable, if it offends you or you find it objectionable, or if it is simply not your thing, please find something else to read.

Notes: Musical guests making an appearance in this interlude include: Echo and the Bunnymen who provided the title and a song that reminds me greatly of John and Aeryn, and The Red Hot Chili Peppers who gave me a line too good not to use from their song Otherside. Shout-outs and beta thanks to ScaperRed and cretkid for services rendered and support above and beyond. As always, mistakes remain mine.
Disclaimers: Definitely not mine. They belong to Henson, et. al. No copyright infringement intended. There is definitely no money being made.

******************************

Fate
Up against your will
Through the thick and thin
He will wait until
You give yourself to him

The Killing Moon
Echo and the Bunnymen

******************************

You prowl the corridors of the ship in the late arns of the sleep cycle, strung like a tripwire, seeking the one thing that will give you solace. You are driven from your bed by the violence of your nightmares. And the visions. Visions of another you making love to her on another ship. Talking to her. Laughing with her. Learning each other’s secrets. Teaching her to speak your language.

Touching her with all the passion, love, desire, and need that you have ever felt for her. Everything you’ve ever wanted to do with her, for her, for all these cycles. She is the answer to your prayers and your dreams, given to another you, in another time, in another place.

Visions, interspersed with the obscene images of what has touched you. Unwelcome hands that touched you in ways and places you did not want to be touched. Drugged and violated by the whore from hell, an abomination, abhorrent and vile.

Your own body betraying you while your mind screamed and shame burned deep in your gut. Powerless and exposed, when only the visions of her and your love kept you sane. You feel sick with shame and guilt and rage. You’re shaking with it. The lakka would have helped, but that was a lie. And it’s no longer an option. That is one truth you can give her.

You’ve worked so hard to purge yourself of that venal memory, the sight, smell, feel of that obscenity, to sluice the stench of that encounter from your mind and your flesh. To reclaim yourself. You have always been all about repression, but now even that is not enough. The sense of powerlessness still burns. You need to establish some control.

The end game on Arnessk gave you no closure. You know what you need. You know what you want. But you don’t know where she is now. Because you pushed her away, first out of anger and spite, then out of fear. You have not been complete since she left. You have been a complete bastard since she returned.

Your game, your rules. You have left her alone. Shut her out. Not given her a chance to talk to you. You have been stubborn and hateful. She returned to you with love and you have given her pain. It’s what you do. And still, she is here, offering you herself, a second chance, redemption. And you need her. So, in spite of your game, your rules, your fear, you stalk the ship, seeking your salvation.

She wasn’t in her quarters.

She should have been in yours.

She wasn’t in the Center Chamber or with D’Argo on watch in Command. Pilot was alone when you checked. You move faster, in time with your heartbeat, as you eliminate possibilities. It is getting late. Time is running out. The others will be awake soon.

And you need her.

Rounding the corner, you palm open the door to the bay. Stepping inside, you pull up short, breath sucked out of your lungs.

Because she is there.

Moving in carefully choreographed sequence, sweating, bobbing, weaving, kicking, punching, lunging. In workout clothes that leave just enough to the imagination. And there is very little you can’t imagine at this very moment. The rush of blood pulses in your veins on its way to throb in your groin, short-circuiting your brain in the process.

Your heart pounds and your entire being pulsates.

You are blown away by the love you feel for her. But suddenly the visions play and the images come, and this is not about love right now.

Then what the hell is this about?

This is all about lust. No, more than sex and lust, this is about possession and control. You know it isn’t fair to shift this burden to her. But you need her because this is something that no one can do for you except her. You know what you are demanding. What you are doing. It appalls you, burns in your gut. Makes you feel savage and rank. But you cannot help yourself.

She loves you.

You stride to her as she turns to warn you. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here. If Scorpius…” she trails off as you seize her arms, immobilizing them against her sides, and use your hips to back her up against the nearest wall. Her voice may be warning you, but her eyes are so full of love and trust, welcoming you even here, even now. You bury your face in her neck and want to let her know how welcome she is, how much you treasure her, but suddenly you are numb.

What the hell is this?

This isn’t how you’d wanted it, all the times you’d thought about her and how you would be together, when she finally gave herself to you. You have gone numb with the knowledge that suddenly you don’t want her to touch you. Because she knows all your secrets, knows just exactly how you work. Every touch. And if she touches you, works you, it will be just like…

You haven’t done this since then, and you’re not sure you’re going to be able to.

You catch the surprised look in her eyes and hear her gasp as you pull back and spin her in your arms, crushing her back to your belly before forcing her over to the nearest workbench. Your body leverages itself over hers, bending her at the waist and pressing her onto the bench. You don’t wonder if you will hurt her anymore, just how and how much.

You need to touch her, want to touch her. To dominate her and take what’s yours, burning the memory of you, here and now, over the memories of him, and in the process, scorching and cauterizing the memory of an oil-induced obscenity from yours.

So much lost.

“Don’t move,” you command harshly as you push her arms above her head, bruises in the shape of your fingers already beginning to form. You know there will be more before you are finished. Your stomach clenches at the thought and you fight to push the rising bile back down your throat as you cross her hands at the wrist. You press them against the bench as a reminder not to move them. Her compliance indicates the depth of her understanding.

She knows that something is desperately wrong, but you haven’t told her what it is yet. You can’t. Still she offers herself to you, unreservedly, body and soul. She is going to allow you to do this to her, will do it with you, because you need it and because she loves you. That truth does not absolve you. You are tainted, and you have allowed that to touch her.

You pull her shorts down over hips, exposing her, before hurriedly unzipping and sliding your own pants down over yours. Your erection springs free, and you rest it against her ass as you lean over her once again, your lips at her ear. You are already breathing harshly.

“Don’t move,” you growl, your voice low and deep. “Don’t talk. Don’t touch me.”

You want to feel hate, loathing, and rage at yourself for doing this to her, but you don’t, can’t. Stripped and denuded, bare-boned and raw, there is only the all-consuming need for control. You are still numb.

Maybe that’s for the best.

You wish to whatever god you no longer pray to that she is numb too, but you know that she isn’t. And still you can’t stop yourself. Or this. You know that acquiescence is not absolution, and you also know that she is absolving you even as you commit the act. She is giving you back yourself.

You kick her feet apart to give yourself more room as you grind against her backside and reach around her to slide one hand between her legs. One long finger slides front to back, between her lips, seeking her moisture. As you stroke back to front, you graze her clit and she moans softly, mindful of your demands, desperately trying to give you what you need. A second finger joins the first as you begin massaging her inner walls, generating heat and spreading her juices. You have laid her open and she is moist and ready. You are not so far gone that you want to hurt her.

At least not anymore than you already have.

You are so painfully hard, hot, and heavy grinding against her, and she feels so good beneath you that you want to cry. You suck in a huge lungful of air through your open, panting mouth as you try to steady yourself against the surge of sensations. Your body is trembling and your circuits are jammed. You need to be inside her, and you pull back ever so slightly to glide your tip against her, before slowly slipping inside.

You are in control.

You start to stroke. In. Out. Slowly. You can feel her inner muscles squeezing you and stars blaze in the blackness behind your eyes as your strokes push in and pull out against her tightness. This is a different type of insanity that threatens to overwhelm you. You begin to pick up speed.

You are in control.

“John,” she moans softly beneath you, unable to stop herself.

You slide your fingers over her mouth.

You are so close.

You grasp her waist and lean forward slightly, digging your splayed fingers into her hips. There will definitely be more bruises. You groan, changing the pattern of your strokes.

Pull the trigger. Pull the thread.

Deep and quick you pound against her, into her, your breathing harsh and jagged, until the fireworks explode behind your eyes and your pulsing, pounding release signals your ejaculation. Out of your head, you let everything go as you spasm violently and empty yourself into her. Your circuits are no longer jammed. Your wiring is completely blown.

The aftershocks quietly reverberate through you as you collapse onto her back. You finally realize that she hasn’t moved or made a sound since she moaned your name.

“Aeryn,” you whisper tenderly, gently stroking her body. You feel your love for her crash into you and you are so grateful to just be able to feel her again. You are unaware that you are crying.

Such a gift she’s given you. You’ll never be able to repay this, but you’ll gladly spend the rest of your life trying.

She’s shifted beneath you, silently indicating her need to rise. You push yourself back up off her body to let her move. She takes a step back and her hands go to pull up her shorts before you can reach to help.

You pull your own pants up with an increasing sense of dread. You wonder what fixing you has cost her, and reach to touch her shoulder, trying to round her and see her eyes. You flinch as she does.

“Aeryn,” you whisper again, taking her shoulder and turning her to face you.

You suddenly feel a desperate need to be face to face with her. To pull her into your embrace and show her how much you love and treasure her. She turns at your touch, and you drop your hands. There are bruises forming on her arms, waist, hips, and cheek, where it had rested against the workbench. You feel a kick to your gut and an overwhelming urge to vomit.

She doesn’t bruise. You bastard.

And you know that you are the abomination, abhorrent and vile.

She reaches up a hand to cup your cheek as tears slowly begin forming in her eyes. They don’t compare to yours, the torrent streaming down your face that you are still completely unaware of. You don’t know how she can stand to touch you. You can’t bring yourself to touch her again. You don’t have the right. She sees that your line of sight has focused on her bruises.

“John, don’t do this to yourself. Please. You needed to do this. I know that. This,” she indicates the bruising, “happens to Peacekeepers all the time during recreation.”

Recreation. You spent cycles convincing her it would never be that with her.

“John,” she repeats, trying to call you back to her. After everything you’ve done to her, she is trying to comfort you. Protect you from yourself.

She loves you. You love her. You both wanted this.

“Don’t do this to yourself. Please,” she pleads with you. “I have to go now. I’m due on watch in command soon. They’ll wonder if I’m not there. Will you be all right?”

You nod, trying to allay her fear for you. A wave of grief crashes over you.

“Please.” She grabs your face and looks into your eyes, searching for a sign that you will be all right.

She’s worried about you. Get your shit together. Quit scaring her. You can do that little for her, can’t you? Take care of her just a little? Bastard.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” she whispers again.

You take her hands gently into yours and kiss her softly on the lips.

“I love you, Aeryn.”

“I love you too, John.”

And then she is gone, and you are standing there alone. Marveling that she wanted you, needed you, loved you as much as you did her. And sickened beyond belief by the knowledge that you have just violated her in ways you understand all too well.

******************************

You have barely seen her. And when you have, you haven’t been able to talk to her, much less touch her. The half-breed bastard stalks your every move, your every waking moment. The others are suspicious and your paranoia knows no bounds. She is the key to everything you are and ever will be, and she is vulnerable.

You have to protect her.

A few precious microts are all you have with her in Pilot’s den before you go your separate ways. She sits between your legs, her back up against your chest and her head nestled under your chin. Your arms are around her and your legs bracket her.

You want to keep her cocooned like this with you forever. It is safe and warm and comforting and you desperately want never to let her go. She is giving you Christmas presents from Earth, but the only gift you truly want she has already given you. She has given you so much.

You are hers, and she is yours.

You love her beyond hope and want nothing more than to wrap yourself around her and hold her safe against you. Loving her completely and properly. Like the other you did on Talyn. You have seen the images, the flashbacks, and know the unconditional love they shared.

Discovering that almost killed you, but you desperately want that for you and her, here and now. You vow to yourself that you will make her know beyond any doubt how dear you hold her. She is your heart, your life, your soul.

But now, again, you have to separate. You to mental training with Katoya. Her to shop for Moya on a dead Leviathan. It scares the hell out of you. You cannot stand even the thought of being separated from her. Not for any reason. Not now.

Fate is not kind to you when you are separated, and the fear runs deep inside you. So you joke about making popcorn and staying home like normal people. Because deep inside you know that fate is not finished with you yet.

The other you kept the wormhole technology safe from the Scarrans. You kept it safe from the Peacekeepers. Both of you had her at your side. What more could you possibly owe fate?

You will do this because you have to. And when you return, you will find a way to make this right. A way to be together as you were meant to be. You are lost in the feel of her against you, even through the leather. You can feel her love envelope you and you are content and at peace, feelings you have never known without her. You never want to leave. But Pilot is calling you and you have to go. She leans her head back to kiss you good-bye. You will be waiting for her when she returns.

******************************

But she doesn’t return. Not really. A creature wearing her face comes back to you and you completely lose it when you discover the deception. The rage rises with that knowledge, white hot and pulsing with a life of its own, and takes over your body.

“Where’s Aeryn, Aeryn?”

In one horrendous moment from hell you shoot the woman you love in the face, hoping desperately that you have not made a mistake and killed the only thing that matters to you in this life. You know this feeling. It replays in your gut and your brain over and over, just as it did when you killed her on the Ice Planet.

And now you are without her again.

******************************

You have been sitting silently in your quarters for arns now. The others have finally given up comming you, stopped coming by to see if you were all right. You don’t want them here. You want to be alone with your memories and your pain.

You’d gotten so angry after she left, that last time.

But now you can finally feel what she was feeling then, during that dark time after she returned from Talyn, her heart and soul bleeding from the loss of him. You understand now because yours are keening for her, sick at the loss of her. You dig the heels of your hands savagely into your eyes, then scrub mindlessly at your face.

She is gone and what have you given her to hold onto?

The other you had left her with the memory of being loved fully and unconditionally. You told her you didn’t trust her with your heart. To come back when she had her story straight. Her last memory with you was of your need to control and possess her.

You trust her with everything. And you don’t give a damn about any story as long as she comes back to you. And when she comes back, you will spend the rest of your life making sure she knows how much you love her. How much you want her. How much you need her.

She could be anywhere. Fate has decreed that you play this game. And has taken your woman as hostage. So play it you will.

You will not fail her. You will not lose her again. She will not be a sacrifice. You will find her because you will never give up. You care about one thing only and you will walk into hell and deal with the devil himself before you let her die.

“Aeryn for wormholes. That’s the deal.”

You will torch the universe for her.

******************************

Miraculously, unbelievably it works. Through time and space you find her again. And carry her back home to you. Back from the freighter where they would have taken your child from her. Back to the safety of Moya and the comfort of your arms.

Pale and gaunt, she has never been more beautiful to you. She takes your breath away. The sight of her leaves you weak. Nothing else you have ever seen compares.

You know that she is weak and that she has been hurt. She is confused and disoriented. She needs to sleep. To recover. You try to reassure her, settle her so she can rest.

“Sleep,” you breathe, gently touching her face.

“Stay,” she breathes, reaching out to cup yours. Overwhelmed by love, you turn your lips to kiss her palm.

You will stay. And you will cherish this gift.

******************************

It has only been two solar days since you brought her back to Moya. She has slept for almost the entire time, and that terrifies you, despite the others’ assurances that she will be all right. You only know part of what must have been done to her, and imagine the hell that has been her existence since she was taken from you.

You find comfort in the simple, intimate act of caring for her, brushing her hair, washing her face, getting her something to drink. It soothes your soul. You have not left her side. Until now. She roused briefly a little over an arn ago and told you to go clean up and get something to eat. You didn’t want to leave her, but you didn’t want to argue with her either. So you did as she asked, waiting for her to return to sleep before you left.

You promised yourself you would only be gone for a quarter arn max and that you would bring something for her to eat when you returned, but you were so tired you fell asleep standing in the shower. By the time the DRDs woke you and you got something to eat from the Center Chamber you had been gone an arn.

Palming open the door to her quarters, you quickly step inside and stop. As does your heart. She is not in your bed. And that thought hits you with its rightness and its intensity. You are in her quarters and that is her bed, but anywhere she is sleeping you consider your bed. Again you wonder how it could have taken you so long to get here. And you cringe at what it has cost both of you.

You’ve pissed so much away. So much wasted time. Your coldness and your drug induced distance have cost you both so much.

You shake yourself from your reverie at the sight of her, coming from the bathing chamber to stand in front of you, fresh from the shower, hair glistening. Clean boxers and tee-shirt have replaced the Scarran medical gown. You catch her scent as you inhale deeply with relief that she is all right. She smells so good you want to climb inside her skin.

You settle for reaching out your hand to stroke her cheek. You realize that with the exception of the arn you have just been gone, you have not stopped touching her since you returned from the freighter. She smiles at you and suddenly you can’t breathe from the sheer joy of looking at her and the sheer pleasure of feeling her skin against yours. You cannot help the thought that burns itself into your consciousness.

Mine.

You lean in to nuzzle her face with yours and gather her in your arms. You know she is not recovered fully yet from her ordeal, but even so it is a monumental effort for you to even barely restrain yourself. You have waited a lifetime for this moment and you are determined to get it right this time. And so you will wait.

You will show her the depth of your devotion, the completeness of your trust in her. She has brought you the gift of unconditional love and that is the least that you can return to her. Before her you were blind. Now you’ve opened your eyes. You will spend the rest of your life celebrating the truth that you are hers and she is yours.

But first there remains one piece of unfinished business. You have not told her about Harvey’s reappearance or the need for you to rescue Scorpius from Katratzi. You’ve told yourself that it is because she is not yet recovered, but you know the real reason. She will demand to go with you.

And god help you, you want her there with you. Because you don’t think you can do this without her. You love her beyond hope and yet you will do this to her.

And you will argue and plead for her to reconsider, but in the end, you already know that after everything that has happened, despite the shame and guilt and fear you feel, you will still take her back into the nightmare, right to Katratzi.

That appalls you, burns in your gut. But you cannot help yourself. She is going to make you do this with her, together, because you need to and because she loves you. You have no choice. This has to be done, and you have to do it. And you need her. That truth does not absolve you. It sounds weak and pathetic and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

This has to be done, and you have to do it. And you need her.

It occurs to you suddenly how intimately you know violation in all of its varieties, betrayal in all its myriad forms. So you swallow the bile and the shame, the guilt, and the fear. Because you know you cannot leave this unsettled between you. Her eyes are so full of love and trust. Still she offers herself to you, unreservedly, body and soul.

“Baby, we need to talk.”

“You’re thinking of going to Katratzi. To rescue Scorpius.’’

“You think I shouldn’t go?”

“I don’t think we have a choice.” And that desperate conversation plays in your head.

“Some things you die for.”

“I just can’t watch that happen…again.”

“Aeryn, don’t come with me.”

You can’t bear the thought of doing this to her.

“Where you are, I will be.”

“Aeryn,” you murmur, touching her cheek.

You are so unworthy of her gift.

“You are so much better than you know.”

It hits you like a hammer. And you know that if she can see this in you, then you can forgive yourself, stop despising yourself in every fiber of your being. She is your lover, your partner and you will not shut her out, not ever again. She is offering you redemption and absolution. Once again, she is giving you back yourself. By giving you herself.

And you remember the last time someone gave you such a gift.

You’re sitting on your mother’s bed watching her trying to get comfortable. She has not been feeling well and you and the girls are worried about her. Your father has been gone for days now, something for IASA. You don’t care what it is you only know that you are irrationally angry at him for leaving her, all of you alone. Especially now. You will never forgive him. Or yourself, because you have been trying to do the same thing. Distance yourself from this pain. And your mother knows this, listened to you vent your anger, and is now trying to explain something to you.

“John, don’t do this to yourself. It’s tearing you apart. You have to find a way to get to a forgiving place. For him. For yourself. Finding forgiveness inside is a long, complicated process. You have to be ready to forgive. You have to want to forgive.  And along the way you have to express your anger and resentment, and maybe even punish the other person. But when you get there, to that place of forgiveness where you can let it all go, then you’ve achieved something worth having.”

You bring yourself back to the present to see her looking at you. You desperately want to know how she got to this point before you did without you there to guide her. Then your gut clenches and a horrific wave of sadness washes over you as you realize yet again why you were not the one with her when she learned.

She learned in spite of you, and now she is teaching you, waiting for you to catch up to her. You have come full circle.

You smile at her, feel her on your skin and deep inside you. You catch her scent and taste her on your lips, and you’ve given up trying to figure out if it’s real or something you’ve made up to comfort yourself. You realize it doesn’t matter. You don’t care. You are going to make it real.

Embrace it. Embrace her.

You have been battered, bent and folded, frayed and frazzled, but she is still waiting for you with her gift of unconditional love. You are finally ready to accept it and return the same to her. She will never again doubt you. You will never again shut her out.

You pull her to you gently, kissing her deeply, tenderly, reverently, while caressing her with slow deliberate strokes up her arms and down her back. You pull her more tightly to you as you feel her respond to your lips, tongue, and hands. Your physical need is becoming urgent and hard, but you restrain yourself. You want this to last. You want to remember everything and so you move slowly, deliberately. You want her to remember everything, too.

It is so damn good just to feel her again, something you have wanted for so long. She has done this for you and you want to make atonement for your sins before you both finally move on. The yearning in you is so strong now you can’t breathe. It is a physical ache in your gut threatening to drive you to your knees.

“I love you, Aeryn. Always, ever you.”

“I love you too, John. You and only you.”

You slide your hand underneath her shirt to caress the silky skin there and then push it up over her head and up-stretched arms to remove it. You are struck senseless by the sight of her as she reaches for you to help divest you of your own shirt. When it’s gone you crush her to you again, skin to skin, cupping her head for a deep, wet kiss.

Your knees are weak, but you find the strength to scoop her up in your arms and carry her to her bed. Laying her gently down, you lean in to nuzzle her check with yours before tenderly kissing her forehead, her closed eyelids, the tip of her nose, and both cheeks before capturing her lips again with yours. Her hands come up to cup your face, before sliding up into your hair to press you closer to her.

You break the kiss to stand and unfasten your belt. You undo your pants and kick your boots off before sliding them down over your hips and kicking them over into a far corner. She is looking at you with heavy lidded eyes that speak volumes about how much she has wanted this. You reach for her boxers, slowly sliding them down her body as she lifts her hips to help you. You pause to kiss your way down her abdomen, telling her in no uncertain terms how much you have dreamed about this with her. How much you want your fantasy of loving her to become a reality.

With no more barriers between you, you slide yourself onto the bed and over her body. Nuzzling her face with yours, you bring mouth, tongue, and hands into play as you kiss, caress, massage, and stroke everything within reach as your bodies entwine and fuse together. The thrill of navigating wormholes is nothing compared to the thrill of navigating her.

You rip your mouth away from hers, panting and gasping for air, to bury your face in her neck, inhaling the scent from her hair and nipping and sucking at her neck. She moans gently and shifts her body to undulate against yours, producing such delicious friction that your frenzied senses threaten to explode. You are delirious with the sensations.

You know you have to have all of her. Here. Now. So with a gentle kiss to her lips, you slowly slide yourself off her as you begin to work your way down her body, intending to shower her with your devotion. Hands and fingers caress her face, neck, and arms, before returning to cup her breasts. Your lips find a nipple before you reach out with your tongue, flicking it and feeling it harden under your touch. You slide your hand up to twist it between your fingers as you reach over to her other breast, tongue again swirling before clamping down wetly and sucking.

“Aaaaaahhhhh, John,” she whispers, running her fingers through your hair before reaching lower to rake her fingers across your shoulders. You feel like you have been waiting for this moment for all of your life.

She moves as if to push you off and flip you over, and you drop your weight on her to deny her the leverage. You know what she wants to do, and as much as you want her lips on you, this time you will wait. Your hands gently take hers and press them into the sheets, silently telling her to keep them there.

“Shhhh, baby, this time is for you.”

Her eyes gleam with understanding.

You continue working your way down her body, kissing every inch with your lips, caressing every inch with your hands. When you reach her navel, you pause to run your tongue in and around. Her belly goes concave with the sensation and you smile to yourself. You continue moving down, kissing, licking, sucking, nipping, until you reach her core. As you position yourself, you nudge her legs further apart, giving yourself room to maneuver. You take your tongue and run it first up the inside of one thigh and then the other.

Then you lay her open with one long, gentle sweep of your tongue, parting her lips with your fingers. She moans again in pleasure and anticipation. You can taste her juices starting to flow, and the taste and scent of her envelop you. You are almost undone. As your lips work against her and find the bundle of nerves you seek, you slip first one finger, then another deep into her, massaging her internal walls as your tongue glides over her clitoris. She is writhing on the bed now, hands slapping the sheets, and you put one hand under her backside to keep her steady against you. She is close and you are painfully aware of how hot and hard you are. You want her so much it is a physical ache.

You feel her orgasm building beneath you as your mouth, tongue, fingers and lips are buried in her. Her cries become louder and more frantic. Her movements beneath you are fevered and it excites you to no end that you are able to do this for her. Give this to her. Your fingers massaging, your tongue alternately lapping at her and piercing her, you finally push her over the edge. She explodes in your mouth, hips bucking as she comes. Your mouth is everywhere, sucking and lapping. You are determined to miss nothing of hers.

When it’s over, you gently kiss her center and reach your hand up to massage her belly, helping her to come back to you. Then you slide back up her body, kissing and caressing your way back to her face. Her entire body is flushed and you smile again, knowing that you were able to do this for her. But now you need to see her eyes. They are closed.

“Aeryn,” you breathe, stroking her cheek.

She opens her eyes to you and you are blown away by the love in them. You want to freeze this moment forever, because forever this is enough. But she has other plans for you, as she demonstrates by reaching down and wrapping her hand around your pulsating penis. Her touch is torrid against your already inflamed cock, and you buck involuntarily at her heat. She reaches up behind you to pull you down into a scorching kiss that literally takes your breath away. You buck again as her hand slides down your shaft to first cup, then stroke your balls. She will not wait any longer for you.

“Now, John. I need you inside me now.”

And you no longer have the strength or desire to deny her. Sliding your hand back to where your tongue had been, you can feel how hot, moist and ready she is. Sliding your cock where your hand had been, you position your tip at her entrance and wait. Settling yourself over her, you slowly, gently begin to enter her, always looking at her face, almost undone by the sensation of finally being inside her. When you are finally seated completely within her, you stop.

“Open your eyes,” you whisper the command. “I wanna look at you.”

She does as you ask and you lock your wild blue eyes on hers. You will do this together. All the way. She nods imperceptibly to indicate her understanding and agreement. You begin to move. Slowly. Setting up a rhythm that builds deliberately in intensity until you both are feverishly grinding against one another, hands moving everywhere they can reach, lips locked in a wet, open mouth kiss, tongues fiercely dueling. You are both gasping for air as you each frantically search for release. You can feel the electricity arcing between you as you thrust furiously into her, fire uncontained.

Oh, god. Too much. More. Again.

“Are you close?”

“I’m really close,” she breathes.

“Close?”

“Nearly there,” she breathes again, body jerking from your onslaught.

“God, I love you.”

“I love you, too, John.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And you can feel her falling over the edge, pulling you with her. You let everything go. Out of your head. Free and flying, your wiring is completely blown. Everything of importance is right here, right now. Nothing else matters. Not wormholes, not Earth, not Scarrans, Peacekeepers, or Scorpius. You have found your place of forgiveness. You have found your way home.