If Ever - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Painted Eyes
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 6

Jean thought of her husband, then, with desire sparked by and for another man, and Remy shuddered as if the hesitation in her thought caused him physical hurt. She understood that if she left him now he would be dead within minutes; the mind could kill the body, she knew this better than most and realized he had discovered it himself. So she answered the unconscious cry of his need with a wash of empathy, nurturing and protective and reaffirming, trying to give him the strength to hold on to himself another moment, another...

*Remy, don't leave me!* Her cry so small in the terrible roar, his mind slipping away even as his body held on. There was a tantalizing, albeit momentary, sense of alien encouragement toward that ultimate letting go that she would remember only later, to her profound regret.

She took his head between her hands and lifted it, tenderly brushed aside the rumpled weight of his glossy hair so she could see his face ... black crimson eyes half-open and alarmingly blind, fixed on some far elsewhere and dulling by degrees. Beautiful even then, such an impossibly beautiful man.

"No! Not like this!" The thought of this lively lovely creature an empty husk ... no, not him, and not like this, not with their hands pushing him over the final brink!

Desperation drove her to instinct and she crushed her mouth to his in a bruising kiss. When he did not respond, she thrust her tongue boldly and with a true loving passion and tasted him, smoke and whiskey and cayenne pepper warm but still. Wrapped her arms fiercely around his head and shoulders and took the slowly downslipping length of his angular body hard against her in mute and wholly sincere offering.

*Come back to me, Remy!* Imperceptibly his fingers tightened, twitched on her and in an inspired moment she slid one hand firmly down the curved furrow of his spine and around the elegant plane of his hip between them where she could touch him intimately. Stroke what she realized he used not just for mindless sex, but to connect him to the world, his substitute sacrament and vicarious connection to God through the most human of joinings. It was the closeness he loved, not just the joining of flesh, it was the mental intimacy he had no other way with anyone - sex was how he hooked himself into the life otherwise always vaguely distant.

More firmly, she cupped him; mindless, the flesh answered ... the big-boned body stiffened ... she swept her tongue into his mouth, writhed sinuously against him, coaxed and tempted with every considerable female wile she had to call him back into the heat and pulse of a life he loved enough to have long endured the unendurable. Ruthlessly she pursued his reaction, even involuntary, autonomic, trying to keep him from the void.

Something struggled for a moment, again something faintly alien ... she had no time to suss it out now, she fought the only way she could, continuing the frantic kiss, pressing the fullness of her body against his bare chest, fumbling at the loose low-slung waist of his jeans to slip the buttons with feverish haste until she could reach him, grasp him with her soft firm hand and make him feel flesh on flesh ... a moment of breathless uncertainty when he jerked against her, gasped faintly, then a gentle rock of hips into her hand ... and all at once like a catapult launched from some faraway space, he jolted into sudden life against her. A soft hiss of indrawn breath as he hardened with painful speed against her palm and his arms closed around her, and he was kissing her back with a crazy wild hunger that was as much for his life as for her, for hope however faint.

A wave of dark joy washed over her as he came gloriously alive in her arms, trembling in every muscle and screaming under his anguished silence - oh, even a scream was better than the absence! Too thin, big as he was she could feel his hipbones and the hard plates of his ribs grinding against her, but it was his soul that was truly starving, an emaciation of so long an acquaintance it was normal to him ... to harbor such a hunger as natural nearly broke her heart.

"Yes Remy, I am here ..." Into the gasping heat of his mouth, petal soft into the unpredictable violence in his mind, "I will not leave you ... do not leave me ... " A litany ever more breathless, because Remy LeBeau did not know how to start anything in this mode that he did not finish soundly.

Then it was Jean who trembled, who clung breathless with a rabbiting heart to a man a head taller than her husband and bigger than she'd expected for all his long-boned spareness, who kissed - God, she'd never been kissed like this! Fine mouth hot and slick and knowing, his tongue ferreting out the secret tastes of hers, stroking, winding, filling. Long strong hands that wanted and aroused with delirious bluntness, and her kiss was no longer desperate just for his life.

Fleetingly, her husband's face again crossed her mind tinged with guilt, but she saw only hers in the disjointed fury of Remy's thoughts, he was focused with desperate dedication only on her, no other woman visualized or fantasized but only Jean with her white skin and blazing hair and wise kind endless eyes to hold him in his body. She knew him, then, seeing herself through his eyes, mind blown too far open. His unchecked emotions were a torrent too overwhelming to resist, memories and urges to self-destruction subjugated in this more immediate desire, striving volcanically in her human touch to re-establish himself in the living world, in her living body. This life in her embrace mattered more than the fact that she was married and loved her husband and was an honorable woman, this was beyond conscience or duty, beyond fidelity ...

One lucid moment to realize and accept that it was no longer his empathic influence moving her, but Remy LeBeau himself, the way he thought and felt and spoke and looked at her in her own memories and his. The way she thought about him that an honest married woman didn't acknowledge ... fantasies of this passionate vibrance, this thrumming symphony of teeth and tongue and bodies, hard-boned hips pressed urgently against her stilled hand and her breasts taken with an inciting roughness in shockingly bold caresses. Heat crackled like a current through her and rendered her liquid against him, breathlessly eager because he left her no choice, he sucked her whole into a feverish eroticism she'd never known herself capable of. How long had she imagined this, so proud of her immunity to the lazy charm he wielded so ruthlessly? As lost as he, swept away by the irresistible conflagration of his body and mind ...

Locked together, mouths fused in a mad silken wetness, she felt her body jerk as he ripped open her blouse, and again at the lick of blistering heat between her breasts where he burned too fast through the front of her bra to get at her. She shuddered and cried out pain and passion into the hot darkness of his mouth at the contact of bare hands on her and a deep shiver spiked under the rough stroke of his thumbs. No sound but their own breathless gasps, the slip and suck of devouring mouths, cloth shoved frantically, ripped aside and down. Dizzy with the explosive sensations of him ... Not even Scott, in the adoringly dedicated passion of their link, compared to the empathic knowing of Remy's touch, empathy so instinctive and unerring that he knew where and how to inflame her body, every intimate want met the instant she wanted it as if he touched himself ... into her mind he fed the sensations of his own body, giving her the feel of her hands on his skin and her mouth and her body in his arms, potently and gorgeously strange.

Oh ... this was why his lovers pursued him so avidly after having had him once! This knowing, this consuming dance of pressures and strokes and slides everywhere his body was in contact with hers, he felt every inch of her with every inch of him, knew everything she had ever dreamed of wanting and how to give it to her - wanted to give it to her. Jean's head fell back in a slow willing arch as he bent her over one arm, the other bracing down her back and one big hand possessively clutching her buttocks to hold her bluntly against him in a continual grinding pressure, widening his knees to support her weight. Her hair spilled in a tumble of fire to the floor from the wanton curve of her spine that offered her breasts to his mouth, her fingernails cut into his smooth shoulders in a soft keening at his urgent appetite. Mercilessly he drew her nipples, one after the other and back, hard against the roof of his mouth, rippling his tongue and catching her with his teeth just this side of pain so she quivered and moaned and deepened the arch in her back. His mouth was like fire, charged and sparking, the hand on her bottom clutched harder, long fingers slipping between her legs to the wet hot center where they stroked. He pressed his erection against her so hard she shared every hammering beat of his heart.

Shamelessly she wriggled, rubbed herself and lifted her knees around his narrow hips so he could drop the fraction lower it took to fit himself up tight between her legs, dragging a ragged cry from her in a melting burst. It was his life he fought for, and as the inevitable became inescapable, her long graceful thighs tightened intimately around him.

Eyes wide open, Jean fell into the fire Remy so desperately needed her to help him make in order to survive, igniting an inferno of primal rhythms flexing and loosening in anticipation and invitation of his entry into her body and mind. Her moans became carnal whimpers as he answered her every move, flooded with velvety heat and aching to be filled ... Further and further he bent her back, bracing one hand against the floor behind her while the other wrapped around her lithe waist to hold her to him, rubbing his whiskered cheek against the weight of her breasts one by one, fiery mouth tasting her hard enough to leave marks on her fair skin.

Electric, charged like the air before a summer thunderstorm, the body harder than Scott, more angles and bones in a leaner weave of muscle, skin like hot tight velvet and brutally sinuous. She could not have stopped him now had she wanted to, and oh, she did not want to! So she stretched her body in his authoritative grasp and let him feast in unrestrained ferality on her erotic responses, sensing it was that as much as her flesh he craved, the feelings he searched out and created. So much stronger than he looked, stronger than he should be in his weakened condition, to hold her weight so effortlessly, long elegant hands too uncontrolled for grace now but showing an honesty of passion that moved her heart deeply.

With all his being he loved her then, it washed over and through her in a smothering hot tide and she showed him she was his ally in this struggle by clawing after the loosened waist of his jeans, struggling to yank them down over the hard little box of his hips. Her skirt she simply raised to her waist and brought herself immediately against him again so the hardness of his sex snugged hot and firm where she wanted it. Her panties he got rid of in a wild flash of tingling heat from his wide-spread fingers, charging the molecules of the cloth ...

"Aaaaah" She cried at the sudden flashing puff as the delicate silk disintegrated into dusty char. Then he was laying her down and coming over her in a warm pulsing masculine tide, both of them shaking in breathlessly desperate concert as the universe spun itself down to this space and time in a wild raw tangle of skin and mind intent only on getting there before they both exploded. Long thumbs dug into the soft angle of her thigh and hip, fingers clutched in a wide warm reach around her flanks and met on the dimples at the base of her spine and she opened her legs under him, groaned deep in her chest as his warm hard length came down with a fierce pressure between them, fitting his quick little hips into the cradle of her body and then ... one swift vicious stroke deep and complete so she screamed out loud, heard his cry in her mind - such a sound to be voiceless!

Overwhelmed with a carnality she had never experienced, she bit his lower lip 'til she tasted blood and didn't care, he didn't care, grabbing at him, hooking her arms over his broad-boned shoulders to hold him as tight against her as she could and he wanted that, too. He wanted everything she could give him, everything. Bigger there than Scott for all his sinewy narrows and she shuddered and then undulated under him, opened and encircled him with arms and legs until she could feel his pubic bone jarring shockwaves from that epicenter outward in blinding white flashes. As deep as Scott had ever been and he would go deeper, she knew it.

In life he would never enter a woman so roughly unless she asked for it and would pause to let her adjust to him once he was there, but this wasn't life and he wasn't ... couldn't ... she impaled herself on him and picked up the rhythm, meeting his madness with her own.

Now was not the time for finesse and he had none to give her, she did not want Scott's sweet careful gentility nor the loving tenderness that rendered her fragile and precious in his embrace; she loved her husband with all her heart, his nobility and his pride and his goodness ... but at this mad moment all she wanted, all she could think of, was Remy's cock rammed high and hard into her, Remy's lean rangy body driving against her, the shuddering press of his taut stomach, the heated panting against her throat. He slammed his mouth down on hers and she bit his tongue, sucked on it, tasted the simmering power and knew she could do anything she wanted and he would want it, too, Remy could not be shocked or disapproving of hidden lusts ... he wanted them.

Whether it was his empathic power or his size or the cycling of sensation between them, she'd never known a moment so purely erotic. Perhaps it lacked the depth and richness of real love, but she welcomed his bruising lust without regretting finding such a singularly physical moment with him and not her husband - better than never to have felt ... God ... this! Her palms stroked hard across his biceps, her nails scored through the glossy soft wings of cinnamon hair across the top of his chest as she surrendered to pure fundamental desire. Teeth clamped together, breath stuttering, she opened her eyes to see his face and found the utter beauty of his mindless rapture. Found the face every woman who ever saw him imagined with a secret sigh.

*Oh ... Remy ..." Like a tongue in his brain that voice, soft and hot and liquid ...

His eyes opened, then, and she saw herself in a shimmering haze of pale velvety lushness, eyes like dreaming twilight and every feature luminously flushed with the heat she could feel surging through her. Her own lips a tender swollen flower he took under his own, drinking her groan of bone-deep pleasure and giving it back when her channel rippled like fingers along his hard-buried sex. In his blown-open mind she shared the exquisite sensation of her own skin under his palms, long hard strokes within her so sensuous that even the brutal jarring seemed a tender savagery. He curved over her, tangled and entwined in flesh and mind with her as his frantic hands caught under her knees and forced them high against her sides so he could thrust to a depth almost painful - but deliriously, deliciously so.

Shamelessly she met him thrust for thrust, cupped his small buttocks in her hands to pull him further, tighter, harder ... heard her own voice rough and breathless speaking those words out loud, inciting him as he yanked her up off the hard metal floor and pulled her legs around his narrow waist, long hard thighs rising under her, the masculine textures of his body deliriously melding with her softnesses. Powerful arms curved up her back, fingers clutched over her shoulders to hold her where he needed her. A long subterranean groan was punctuated by his quickening thrusts and the soft counterpoint of her cries as their bodies met and matched. The position opened her utterly and shamelessly around him and she felt like she was flying, like she was going nova, things started to shake, to pulsate and spasm in jolts from that hot central core where they were joined. It caught her, overtook her, crashed into her and she screamed in a long descending cry, clutching his wide-boned shoulders, clamping her legs around him, the tender inside of her thighs bruising on his hipbones. Feeling him home himself, gasping, deep, deeper inside her, a final hard jar into places never touched before, where he held with a strangled cry that was the first sound he'd made.

Scalding tears coursed down her neck, sight both physical and telepathic dissolved in a prolonged quiver as he pulsed inside her, coming in hard rhythmic bursts deep and vibrant and vividly alive.