[Izzy Montoya] (123 not me! :)
[Izzy Montoya] (mutters, starts anyway)
[Izzy Montoya] Earlier in the day there was a bust that involved Izzy and her team. She hadn’t thought about what it might mean to John if he heard it, if he realized she had been put in danger, that there were the standard reports of “SHOTS FIRED SHOTS FIRED!” over the radio, and an achingly long 10 minutes before the call came back through declaring an all clear. She likely WILL think about it should the roles be reversed, but it hadn’t occurred to her to make sure he knew she was ok, other than there was no further reports of injury.
Now, nearing 10pm, she is at home, showered and fresh, and dressed in what he’s come to expect as her at home apparel – boxers, a tank top, and a silken robe over top. She’s not sure if he’ll be over tonight, though they’ve found excuses and files to prove just how dedicated they are to each other their job each and every night this week. In hopes, that tonight will be another, she’s already ordered take out – it’s all on the counter in the kitchen, ready to eat or be warmed up when they decide they’re hungry enough. And, of course, beer is chilled in the fridge.
And so, she’s sitting on the couch, flipping through channels idly, as she drinks her first beer of the evening – and tries not to look at the clock and hope – eager as some teenage girl – that he’ll arrive son…
[John Thornton] Time passes, the clock’s numbers swing past one after the next. John doesn’t call, doesn’t show up at her desk… Though if she’d asked her Xo or Finn, she’d realize that both had been queried about the call of shots fired. And had she a posting of John’s whereabouts throughout the day, she’d realize that a certain distinct black Crown Victoria had caused quite a stir at multiple red lights as it fled Cabrini at high speed… Headed on the most direct route between itself and where Izzy had been.
So it was, maybe sooner, maybe later… Izzy finds a simple knock upon her door. The man beyond it scrubbing his mop of brown hair with a weary hand… An unlit cigarette held between his lips.
[Izzy Montoya] The fact that he still knocks, though she gave him a key, is only one of the more endearing things about him and this newly forged relationship. It’s still odd, still new, and still utterly terrifying as they work through this, without rules, without safety nets, with only the two of them and all the things they haven’t faced for the decade they’ve known one another.
So there’s a knock on the door, and she’s up and moving across the room, the remote dropped on the coffee table. She peeks through the peephole briefly, then pulls the door open with that lopsided little smirk that’s always dangerously close to a smile when he’s at her door…
“Hey.”
[John Thornton] She opens the door; John looks something like a wreck. He’d burned through a full pack of Marlboro’s already today, and a freshly opened one now rested in his pocket. While he didn’t reek of it… Apparently he’d also ‘irish’-ed up his coffee, to borrow the turn of phrase, not that long ago either.
Hazel eyes turn to her… Looking her over once and then twice again, if only to be sure.
“I heard, over the radio…
You didn’t call.”
[Izzy Montoya] She blinks, and then comprehension dawns on her, and she pales. “Oh god.. John I…”
It wasn’t anything but another day on the job, and she didn’t think, and she didn’t call. He looks her over, once and then again, and by then she’s reaching for him, sliding her arms around his neck and pressing close, warn and vibrantly alive.
“I’m fine. A little bruised, but it’s nothing. I’m fine.” A moment then two, before she pulls back to look him in the eye again. “and I should have called. I’m sorry.”
An apology. Will wonders never cease. “I’m… still getting used to this.”
[Izzy Montoya] (*warm not warn. *L*)
[John Thornton] His arms wrap around her, and he quietly whispers in her ear…
“Don’t scare me like that.”
He holds her like a piece of porcelain, as though afraid to hug her any tighter than that. Then, with a sigh, he smiles that wan not-a-smile and tells what might almost be a joke.
“You have no idea what I did to traffic in Cabrini trying to get there. And your Sergeant thinks I’m a lunatic.”
[Izzy Montoya] She closes her eyes as he whispers of his fear, and hugs him all the tighter for that, letting him know in the same breath that he can hold her as tight as he wants – she won’t break, and she’s not grievously injured, and she didn’t mean to frighten him.
“I won’t…” not again. And with her, as he well knows, she always keeps her word. “And if Sarge thinks your crazy, he must KNOW I am. He still hasn’t quite forgiven me for living at the station for those first couple weeks.” After Daniel, she means.
She pulls back, slowly, tucking her hand into Johns and pulling him inside. “Come on. I’ll show you the bruise and tell you what happened so you can stop worrying…”
[John Thornton] John squeezes her hand gently, and goes into the apartment… Closing the door behind him. Locking it… Something people who spent much time in Cabrini did with doors.
Then, turning… He takes off the trench coat and hangs it in the closet. Oddly, his shirt was unbuttoned to two buttons tonight, his tie was gone… Somewhere. And his sleeves were already rolled up.
Wherever he’d come from, it hadn’t been someplace he went on the time clock.
After kicking off his shoes, John moves further into the apartment.
“What caliber?”
[Izzy Montoya] He’d been someplace that allowed him to dress down, a bit, someplace not on the timeclock. She doesn’t pry though, doesn’t even ask where he’d been that sent him careening to her door.
He asks the obvious first – well, to them. The caliber of the gun denotes how much damage there would have been if she had not stopped to put on that vest. And it prepares him for the starburst of bruising she’ll show him momentarily as well. “.357. I wouldn’t have got hit, but the rookie – Belsom her name is – didn’t see it coming and the angle she was standing, she’d have been hit under the vest. I pushed her down, and didn’t quite make it down fast enough myself. Finn and the others had him disarmed and cuffed seconds after he shot.”
A pause, as she slides her fingers under her tanktop and slides it upwards to show him the bruising along her belly, before. “I zigged when I coulda zagged – and took it the vest, that’s all.”
[John Thornton] John considers the bruising for a few moments, nodding at her description. Hazel eyes rise to hers, as a curious brow rises toward his scalp.
“Did a doctor or somebody check you out, after? You could have internal injuries if the bullet hit hard enough…”
Then, he shakes his head.
“Even so, you got incredibly lucky. They’re using teflon spray on ammunition these days to punch through…
And a hollow point would have left a bigger bruise.”
[Izzy Montoya] She reaches for his hand again, and presses it against the bruising, pulling him close to her again as she does so. “I’m fine. I didn’t have anyone check me out – but if you insist, I’ll let you take me to the ER, but its not necessary, because I’m fine.”
And she knows how lucky it was, but she also knows this “You would have done the same thing in my place, Detective Thornton, and you know it.” And the this scenario would have been reversed completely.
“I’ve had much worse that this – and know how it feels when its worse.” far too recently, and in times that he just doesn’t know about. “But if it makes you feel better, we’ll go get checked, ok?”
[John Thornton] John nods, and sighs… and after a long time, he answers and smiles that wan not-a-smile.
“Okay… And you’re right. I would do the same thing, and you’d be every bit as mad with me.
And I wouldn’t be worried because it’s me. And after being worried, we would have a few drinks, some dinner, and wonderful make up sex…”
Maybe it was a concession on his part. Maybe he knew she was right.
Maybe he just couldn’t help but be attracted to Izzy. Whatever the case may be, John was smart enough to realize she was new to this. Just as he hoped she was smart enough to realize he was equally new to this.
And she had apologized. It was far more than most would get, under similar circumstances.
[Izzy Montoya] Her smirk slides into that rare smile, the one that only he has seen, the one that only he is trusted with, and she nods. “I ordered dinner, I have drinks, and there will be amazing makeup sex.”
Maybe it was a concession, because he knew she was right. Maybe, on her part, it’s a promise to do better, to learn, to make this work no matter how many times she goofs up along the way. She moves into his arms then, and lifts on her toes to capture his lips with her own, sealing the promise – both spoken and unspoken – with a kiss.
They’re still learning. They’re still new. This no rules thing still has her off kilter – but with that kiss? She proves that she wouldn’t have it any other way.
[John Thornton] ((Paused here for now))
[John Thornton] She kisses him, and John kisses back. Passion stirs within his chest… Dread trails icy fingers along his spine. And for whatever reason, John can’t help himself for wanting her.
His arms hold her tight, like a bit of driftwood after a shipwreck in the deepest ocean waters. He breathes her in deeply, the smell of her hair, her skin…
As all the while, the scent of gun oil, tobacco and smoke mingle in that unmistakable panoply that is distinctly his own, like a fingerprint of smells… His skin was warm, his muscles easily felt beneath the surface of his skin… Though without the unflinching hardness of a dedicated weight lifter’s carefully contoured physique.
[Izzy Montoya] He returns the kiss, and she breathes a soft moan across his lips, pressing closer still, all but trembling in his arms. This is so new, the level with which she wants him, desires him, the passion he stirs in her with the simplest touch. He holds her tight, and her fingers twist in the back of his shirt, holding on as if he’s the last bit of sanity keeping her moving, keeping her working, keeping her… here.
The grip loosens after a moment, so that she can slide her arms up over his back, memorizing the lines and flow of the muscles, fingers erasing the icy touch of dread along his spine with her touch.
Her scent – shampoo and soap and fresh washed skin, all still undeniably her, creating an imprint much as all that is him does across her senses. She breaks the kiss, but only for a moment, as she smiles, opening her eyes to drown in the ever changing color of his gaze. There’s so much there, so much unsaid, so much that she can’t quite say – that she may not even know she feels as deeply as she does. And so she just smiles – the one only he sees, and claims his lips once more.
[John Thornton] The chameleon’s eyes seem somewhat blue tonight; some strange hue of the lighting in her apartment had cancelled or diminished the green and gray, leaving nothing but the merest hint of blue. The merest hint of blue that speaks a language all its own…
A language not of words but emotions… Those unsaid among the most prominent.
He takes a step forward, then a second… Pinning her against the wall as they kiss, his chest, his hips pressed tightly against hers as they breath in heated whispers. Somehow, while kissing, he manages to mumble quietly…
“Maybe we should move right on to step 3… And handle the first two afterward.”
He smiles that wan not-a-smile… A not-a-smile that was growing closer in these evenings of excessive paperwork to something more real and genuine. A smile that nonetheless found itself beset by terrors of his own imaginings and persisted all the same.
[Izzy Montoya] He moves her back, step by step, until her back hits the wall and he’s pressed so tightly against her. She slides an arm up around his neck, fingers sliding into his hair, holding him to her as a soft chuckle winds it’s way through her kiss…
“Best idea I’ve heard all fucking day…”
His smile is getting closer to something real, something just for her, though she knows the fears that assault him even now, even here where she’s warm and willing and his – only his. She’s her own demons, the reasons behind rules that he’s lead her to toss completely away. It’s at once terrifying, and exhilarating, scaring her yet beckoning her ever closer all the same.
Her other hand tugs at his shirt, untucking so that her fingers can slide up under the material, and get at his skin… fingers warm as they spread over his lower back, along his spine…
[John Thornton] John lets out a sigh as her hands spread along his spine and lower back, knots of tension residing there and easing, ever so slightly, at her touch. Still… You’d never know he was having any such inhibitions by the way he reacts to her touch.
John’s lips leave Izzy’s, moving instead to begin leaving small, nibbling kisses along the side of her neck. His hands find their way to her bottom, and picking her up, he holds her against his hips as he carries her toward the bedroom.
“Your wish is my command…”
The things unsaid, it seemed were greater than the sum of John’s fears. Or perhaps, one lesson he had learned in his tragedy was to savor and relish every moment, just in case… Whatever the reason, it seemed he needed scant urging to get on to the amazing make up sex she’d mentioned a little while ago.
[Izzy Montoya] Some part of her notes that tension, makes a promise to herself to tend to it – tend to him – better, as her fingers trail along skin, nails teasing along his spine as she lets her head fall back against the wall with a little thud, baring her neck to his kisses, each little nibble sending electric shocks along her nerves. She holds her breath, until it falls free in soft laughter when he lifts her. Long legs wrap around his back, ankles locking.
Whatever the reason, he needs little encouragement to cart her off to her bedroom, to her bed, that’s becoming more theirs with ever night spend in feigned dedication to paperwork. She lets go, trusting him to hold her close, only to let the robe slide from her arms and flutter to the floor. By the time he’s gotten her to the room, she’s pulled off the tank top too, before she wraps her arms around him again, her lips finding his with a softly delighted moan.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me…” softly whispered between eager kisses.
[John Thornton] “Maybe a hunch…”
John kisses back and eagerly, setting her on the bed with no small measure of gentleness. Then, he quickly unbuttons the dress shirt and casts it aside without thinking… The white tee shirt underneath is likewise discarded with the tie in a pile at the side of the bed, their lips parting but briefly.
Then, after stepping out of socks and shoes, John moves into the bed with her… Kissing her as he crawls in…
In the dim lighting, the hazel eyes take on a gray cast… Though they seem no less luminous in this light than they had in the outer room. His look was not the look of imminent gunfire… It was the look of a man who knows what he wants, who sees it before him, and who finds endless fascination and joy in attainment thereof. The look of a man who couldn’t help himself from her even if he tried, and for whom trying was simply not going to happen.
His arms are around her swiftly yet again, pulling her to his bare chest… His skin warm to the touch as a flush of excitement grows upon his cheeks.
[Izzy Montoya] She chuckles, softly, as he admits to having a hunch… her dark eyes shining in the low light of the bedroom, the glow from the streets below.
He sets her on the bed, and her dark eyes slide over him as he tosses the dress shirt the tie, the t-shirt… eagerly lifting into his kisses when he comes back to her, crawling into bed to meet her once more, she welcomes him with open arms, and eager touch. He wants her, and it’s clear in his eyes, mirroring the look in her own. He can’t help himself, and she doesn’t want him too, she wants something far simpler.
She wants him.
He pulls her close again, and she trembles as he presses her to his chest, the lean strength of his chest warm against the curve of her breasts, the softness of her belly. She hides nothing from him, especially now, and traces the line of his jaw with fingertips, brushing them across his lips before she melts into his kiss once more, a leg curling around his, pulling him tight to her, holding tight to the one thing she has left that makes sense, giving her hope for the happiness she never thought she wanted before…
[John Thornton] John kisses her and his eyes close, losing himself in the moment, if just a little… Unable to keep from touching her. His arms hold her tightly to him, as the kisses deepens and becomes more passionate. His lips part… His tongue searches for hers…
A hand finds its way to the nape of her neck… Cradling her head gently.
Meanwhile, whether she’d noticed it before or not, certain parts of his anatomy were acting of their own accord, his excitement evident in the growing bulge in his pants. The flush continues to grow about his cheeks and neck… His breathing quickens.
A hand on the small of her back finds its way to her butt, squeezing a cheek with gentle insistence as his hips pushed against her own.
Perhaps the world made some form of sense, if only for these all-too-brief moments they share… Perhaps the world about him didn’t have to be all nightmares and darkness and terror.
[Izzy Montoya] She’s noticed. There is very little about him that she doesn’t notice, anytime he’s close. From the little things, the color of his eyes, how much he’s slept – or not – if he’s eaten, if he’s drank, the temperature of his skin, the scent of his skin, the way he flushes when he presses against her…
Her breath catches and she curls her hips into him, lips parting in welcome as her tongue duels with his – playfully insistent as her fingers, ever eager, slide between them to get at the fastenings of his slacks, making short work of the button and zipper, her hand sliding under restrictive material, fingers finding his length, that misbehaving bit of anatomy that swells and begs her attention even now – which she gives in a slow stroking caress…
There is no darkness here, and the only terror is that of the unknown, forgotten for the moment in the knowledge of his body pressed so closely, so insistently to her own..
[John Thornton] John’s breath seems to catch as her hands find their way past the restrictive clothing… And he lets out a long sigh as she begins to attend his misbehaving anatomy. The hand that had been squeezing her butt moves from it… gentle fingertips trail along her side with an almost playful nature… before moving around to her front… To cup her breast. His touch is at once gentle and enticing, as his fingers dance along the periphery of her nipple, brush the tip… and urge it to harden with gentle squeezes and pressures.
He breaks from the kiss for a bit of air, as the room became hot around them… And as he does so, he whispers her name quietly…
“Iz…”
There were whole volumes in that simple word, in that name… Volumes that defied speech or literary genius…
[Izzy Montoya] The softest of moans as his fingers trail along her skin, nipples hardening under his teasing touch, her fingers sliding continuing their caress across heated skin, a tremble working it’s way through her under her skin, sensation bringing an eager flush along her skin. Its warm in the room, and grows warmer still as her name falls like confession from his lips…
She opens her eyes, searching his face, her free hand lifting to trace his lips, all but begging him to say it again, to say everything, the volumes of feeling her puts in just her name…
“…John….”
The whisper is reverent, a prayer and a blessing, a longing and a wish fulfilled all in the same moment, the same breath. There is nothing words could further define, though it’s all writ there in her eyes, in her touch, in her kiss when she takes his lip in another eager kiss, even as her hand pulls from him, only to tug and pull at the rest of his clothing…
[John Thornton] John continues to kiss her, his hands only departing her skin to remove the remainder of his clothing… Letting it join its comrades in a heap upon the floor. It leaves him nude, uncovered… Unable to hide.
It was an interesting dichotomy, to watch the man who hid so much, revealed and exposed.
As he returns to her, he speaks again, just as before.
“Izzy…”
His hands find her breasts anew, teasing and toying with the nipples in gentle nudges, squeezes and twists. Then, one hand slides to her shorts…. and begins pulling them down her hips.
His skin was hot to the touch, flushed with excitement… Sweat just beginning to pool about the contours of his form.
[Izzy Montoya] They hide so much, both of them, all the time to everyone else. But here, here there is nothing to hide behind, no clothing to cover with, nothing to cling too. He tugs at her shorts, and she shimmies from them tossing them to the side to leave herself a vulnerable and open as he is.
As much as she keeps from everyone else, there’s no hesitation here. Here she shows him everything, she lets him see all of her- good and bad – and hopes he will not turn away. And with every touch, every slide of his hand along her skin, each teasing squeeze and twist that has nipples hardening under his hands… every moment gives her reason to keep hoping.
He breathes her name, and she smiles, and captures his lips in a kiss, at once tender and insistent as she rolls him to his back, pressing close to follow him, her thighs parting to straddle his hips. She cups his face with her hands, her fingertips tracing along his jaw down his neck, following the line of shoulders, the path that the warmth of his blush has traveled since that first moment she’d melted into his arms tonight.
Nails dance along his chest, teasing until they find his nipples, giving them the same teasing treatment he does her own, even as her hips curl against him, the heat of her skin melting against his…
[John Thornton] ((Paused here for now))
3/17
[John Thornton] John lets out a deep, full sigh as she straddles his hips and teases his nipples, his hands continuing to tease and gently twist hers. Then, they trail along her sides, his touch so light it was almost ticklish… Until they reach her hips.
His hands squeeze there, before continuing to her ass to give it a squeeze as well…
Then, he whispers, only just loud enough to hear. “Isabel…”
Each time they did this, each and every time… It was like playing chicken almost. Defining their relationship was difficult, something to which they were both new and a bit afraid of in the same turn. So perhaps it was no surprise when John continues.
“I want to be more than friends… I want… you. In the only way the Nation will recognize.”
…and it terrifies me.
The things they both left unsaid could fill a book in their own right.
[Izzy Montoya] Her name – her real name – on his lips causes her to tremble, even more than the shiver of delight his hands bring as they travel over her skin, squeezing, teasing, and drawing reactions from her as easily as breath….
So many things unsaid, for so many years, things they just didn’t see, didn’t do, wouldn’t admit.
So much lost time.
They are both so frightened – more of the known, than the unknown, even as he puts to words his want, his need evident in the way his body presses to hers, matching her own as she watches him, her dark eyes searching his, before she reaches to take his lips with her own, answering without words, in the only way she can for a long moment, until breath is needed again and she pulls away only far enough to rest her forehead against his, her eyes closing briefly…
He may think she won’t answer, that she can’t answer… but after a moment she does, emotion thick in her voice, her smile a soft thing, not the harsh smirk that others see, but a much more real, open, true expression for him alone.
“I want you too. I’ve always wanted you. Just you. Any way you’ll have me.”
And shes every bit as terrified…
[John Thornton] And then John does something surprising even unto him. Something he hasn’t done in what seems an eternity. He smiles…
It isn’t the wan not-a-smile he’s so often noted for. It isn’t the smile he shows the world because that’s what the world expects of him. No, this was something more genuine, more heartfelt… More blatantly honest.
And in that moment, John wraps his arms around her tightly and holds her to him, giving her the deepest, most passionate kiss she could ever recall him having shared with her.
[Izzy Montoya] He smiles. He smiles the way he used too so long ago. He smiles so that his eyes crinkle up at the edges, and there’s no doubt of the emotion behind it… and she holds her breath in that moment, wanting it to last forever, capturing it in her minds eye so that she can revisit it again and again…
He smiles – and she is lost forever in it.
His arm wrap around her tightly, and she melts against him, the intensity of his kiss taking her breath away, even as she returns it, passionately, putting everything she is into that connection, offering all of her in every tangle of her tongue with his, with every breathless sighing moan as she presses against him…
[John Thornton] They kiss, their tongues dancing together as it deepened. Then, John pushes off of his shoulder and rolls them both over, so he was atop her. Their skin touched, so warm… Every moment seemed a symphony of sensation all in its own right.
Then, wordlessly… He puts himself against the sensitive folds of skin between her legs… And gently pushes himself inside her.
His eyes were gray, gray in this dim lighting, but they seemed to have more luminescence than ever she’d seen within them. As if, even in his terror… He couldn’t help but be thrilled by her. As if she was something he found infinitely pleasing.
[Izzy Montoya] He rolls them over, and she laughs softly as she moves so easily with him, the sound open, free, even as she wraps her arms around him, her leg sliding against his, her inner thigh soft, warm against his hip… he presses slowly, gently inside her and she moans softly, a tremor weaving under her skin as her fingers slide into his hair, the other hand caressing down his back, along his spine, her hips curling to meet his as interior muscles flex and contract against his length, urging him deep within her.
“Ohhhhh…John….”
His name, breathed across his lips in the barest of pauses in that kiss – it holds the reverence of a pray across her lips, a submission to everything, anything he may want or need from her whispered in that, the softest of moans as she meets his gaze, her own as nakedly open as her body, everything she is, all that she has – his for the taking.
[John Thornton] John’s skin tingles where her fingers dance along his back, causing gooseflesh to rise of its own accord beneath her touch. His hips do indeed push deep, deep until he bottoms out within her.
Then, the smile, the actual, true smile he now wears remains plastered upon his expression the whole while. His hips then start moving, pushing to meet hers, and retreating away… Slow, deliberate… But quickening.
“My dearest Isabel.”
And with that, his lips part from hers, to begin trailing gentle, nibbling kisses along the side of her neck.
[Izzy Montoya] Her skin flushes, a warmth build from deep inside as she moves with him, her breath catching, then released in soft, eager moans. She has never been shy in voicing her appreciation, and this is no different but that with him? It is so much more.
The way he says her name pull a tingle from deep in her belly, sending it coursing through her system until every nerve ending is sensitive, aflame with eagerness to touch, to be touched, to experience everything in this moment, completely open, vulnerable…
She entrusts her very heart and soul to him, without reservation, without hesitation, and it shows, even as she tips her head, baring her neck and throat for his teasing kisses, her nails dancing along his back as she meets his every thrust smoothly, eagerly…
[John Thornton] His pace quickens, his hands moving to grab her ass, pulling her to him with each push of his hips. Sweat begins to run along the contours of his skin, giving him a shimmering look as his muscles move in the dim lighting. His length bottoms out time and again against her, even as he speeds up.
“Isabel… Oh God, Isabel…”
And somehow, the way he says it, she would know that the trust he has for her is equally all encompassing. She would understand that he does as he does not just because it’s what he wants, but what she wants too…
His lips continue the nibbling kisses, as his arms move to hold her tight to him, so tight she could almost feel the beating of the heart in his chest.
[Izzy Montoya] Her breath quickens, each exhale a soft moan, her thigh sliding against his hip, a long, slender leg wrapping around him to pull him closer, deeper within, even as each curl of her hips matches his, flowing in total sync with each and every thrust… her skin flushes, the slight sheen of effort glistening in the low light, her fingers tangling in his hair at the nap of his neck, holding him to her… so tight their hearts can be felt, almost head, thudding rapidly against each other…
She encourages him with all that she is, all that she has… lips and hips and fingertips that lead nails to scratch light along his back, down over his ass, to grasp and squeeze and pull him against her..
She knows it is not just her, not just him in this moment – no, here, it is them, together in a way they never would have considered before, a way that is all the sweeter, all the more heady with overwhelming emotion for just how very long it took them to find this place – this place where they can give their all, and trust it be returned, intact and stronger than before.
[John Thornton] John’s breath comes in ragged gulps of air, as his hips continue to push and pull, holding her tightly to him as their sweat mingled with every touch of their skin. Faster and faster does he move, all the while, sharing a piece of himself with her. Sharing a piece of himself nobody else got to touch, the emotional part of himself that wasn’t scarred and misshapen by loss and sorrow.
The part he trusted only her with…
And then, as he feels the swell of sensation growing within him, John intentionally slows his pace… Continuing to bury his hips to hers just as tightly, just as deeply, but with a more measured and deliberate pace as the crescendo approached.
[Izzy Montoya] “Oh…ohgoddon’t…don’t… ohmyfuck don’t stop…” Breathless as she clings to him, the sensations burning their way through her slender frame, never endings sensitive, electrified by his every touch, every trust as he buries himself so deeply within her.. her cries are breathless, urging him on as she trembles beneath him, everything he builds in her rushing headlong to their ultimate goal, a total submission to all they feel wound so tightly within…
…she holds him tight, her slender form tensing under him, muscles quivering with the escalating need, desire darkening her eyes, hidden behind the kiss of lashes across cheeks as she closes her eyes, surrendering completely to his whim, to the sensation and delight he has woven around them, through her, tugging at the very deepest core of her being, urging her onward, forward, until there is nothing left but to let go, and let the wave of desire and passion overtake her, synapses firing, misfiring, and firing again deep in her belly, fanning outward until there is nothing left, nothing but the purity of total release as she gives in…
“oh….ohJohn…”
A world of meaning in the simplicity of that heady emotional cry…
[John Thornton] John holds her tight as she climaxes about him, pushing his hips against her tightly as his own flood of sensations overwhelm him. Breathless, it seemed he could scarcely gulp air fast enough as her exultation rings in his ears. He smiles that honest smile, that unabashed and thoroughly pleased smile…
“Isabellllll…”
His words are a whisper, spoken as though under duress, as sensations danced along his skin like a river bursting a dam… He holds her tight, just holds her… Letting his body say all the things he himself could not voice right now. His face buried in her neck, drawing in her scent and reveling in it.
Meanwhile, beneath his skin, muscles writhed and contracted, some few quivering and shaking with delight at the sensations they’d shared.
[Izzy Montoya] She trembles against him, muscles quivering as she clings to him, holding tight as if he is the one stable thing she has that will keep her afloat in the wave of emotion that overcomes her… there has never been any other to affect her the way he does, none other can pull the depths of emotional, desirous delight in such a way that it leaves her at once trembling, and always begging for more – just another glimpse of the heaven she never thought she would ever see…
The rules are gone, destroyed, left behind in a life she couldn’t return to now even if she wished it – as he is the only one she wants, the one she needs… and she’s terrified that now? Now she couldn’t live without him… even if she wouldn’t – couldn’t – say it out loud…
She tangles her legs with his, remaining close, so close as she holds him to her, pressing soft, breathless kisses along his neck, until she breathes a soft confession across his ear… before she even realizes she speaks it out loud…
“…I have always loved you. Only you.”
[John Thornton] John holds her tightly, just holds her… And as the flush of sensation begins to fade, he runs a hand through her hair and whispers in her ear. His voice barely more than the merest rush of breath in the darkness…
“I love you, Isabel… More than you will ever know.”
He holds her tightly the whole time, unwilling to leave her as he speaks. It was confusing… A part of him was still in love with Mrena… Perhaps it always would be. He would be a liar to claim otherwise.
But he loved Izzy. The woman with whom he had shared so very much. The one woman left in this mad world that made any sense to him. The only one he would ever allow this close…
Then, as terror renewed itself… And locked doorways within his mind opened to dark rooms… He whispers a quiet plea.
“Don’t leave me…”
It’s happening again… All over again… And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.
[Izzy Montoya] In their world – she often chafes as she is seen, and called weak by teenagers with anger issues and superiority complexes. Here, however – here, in the darkness of her room, sharing it with the one man she would give up everything for – the one man she had given up everything for once, years ago… here? Here she is strong, here she is determined, for all the softness of her voice, for all the wonder her breathes into her when he voices his love, his feeling for her…
They have baggage, large and impressively matching sets, but it doesn’t matter. Not here.
He voices his fear, and she just holds him tight, holding him against her, as she replies, just as softly. “Shhh. I’m not going anywhere. I came home to you. I will always come home to you.”
She gently lifts his head from where it’s buried against her shoulder, and lays claim to his lips once more – sealing her promise with a kiss that means everything, holds nothing back, and gives him all that she has, all that she is in the far from simple touch.
[John Thornton] ((And that would be an excellent fade spot. Thanks for the rp :) ))
[Izzy Montoya] (Yay! thank yoU! :) )