Chapter Thirty-Three:
Speaking in Tongues (Part B)

Rough waters.

It was an errant and uninvited thought that passed through Nikolas's head as he stared into his wife's challenging eyes. The rain was beat down on the roof of the cabin, and the boat had started to rise and fall with more violence than was characteristic. There was no sensation of solid ground -- or sky, or air. Just the rhythmic rocking of their room, their space. Their bodies already moving to a rhythm that was in time with the elements. They weren't just merging with each other. They were merging with the whole damn world. It was a heady idea that cut through Nikolas like lightening. No boundaries. No rules or body or mind. Just this. Whatever the hell this was.

She didn't get it. She was maddeningly refusing to get it. Staring at him with this mixture of challenge and ferocity, he felt like she was purposely trying to look the other way. Not to see what was happening. Nikolas spent half his life -- at least -- feeling like everyone else was reading from a different book. Even on the island, he'd felt like he was the wrong way round. His grandmother filling him with ideas of grandeur from the time he could comprehend language. You're better than everyone else. You're above them. The Prince, the anointed. Who is jealous of the children of the most lowly servant when he sees their mothers come running after them. Who's intellect, money, position and remarkable ability to throw a temper tantrum still left him lacking only in the things he was truly hungry for. No one had ever seen that. No one else got the anger, the frustration, the heartbreak that came with being that alone. Being unloved. But looking into Carly's eyes, at their darkest moments, was like looking into a mirror. One that said all the vicious and sharp tongued things he always kept under wraps. Who screamed when angry and cried when hurt and showed him how far from alone he really was. How much pain there was out there to go around.

The lust he felt for her at that moment went beyond words. It wasn't physical, emotional. Pathological, maybe. He'd been asleep before her. Numb and half dead. Unaware of how hollow he'd been until she appeared and he'd heard himself echo. Looking into her, her body pressed against his, and both of them trapped in this place where only they understood the properties of their universe. You end up here. Set to explode, so tightly spun, so in need, in love, in absolute fucking hell. The need for her was beyond words or thoughts. He was so full with her he was overflowing. And it still didn't feel like enough.

Storm's here.

He's lost his mind. He's literally lost his mind, Carly thought, her back pressed against the polished wood of a wall that wouldn't stay still. He looked feverish, obsessed, dangerous... Jesus, sexy as hell. She knew what she should do. She's been pushing him, and now maybe it'd gone just a little too far. Gotten a little bit too intense. She wanted to look away, to turn the situation in a new direction, but her eyes would not let his go. Curiosity kills, if that was the word for it. What's he thinking? What's he going to say? What's he going to do to me?

This was the part, she realized. This was the part of him she knew. Facts were piling up. Colors and foods and children's books... but this was the part that needed no introduction. It was like someone she'd known before she'd ever laid eyes on him. Kept locked up in a secret corner, waiting for her to come out and play. Benevolent and ferocious. Gentle and savage. The part of any man that could be provoked. The part that held it back. And the constant question in her mind... what happens when it's all pushed too far. There's your proof. You break them and you see what colors they bleed.

There was no reason behind the answer Nikolas had given her to questions she hadn't given voice. Something in her told her wild. Something said dangerous. And with those two things in mind, the answer still came back... Protective. Sheltering. Home.

Siren.

A mythical creatures you read about showing up and luring men to their deaths. Made them go willingly, to long for it. They talked about her like that was what she would be for him. Nikolas's eyes swept over her, abandoning their deadlocked staring contest as if it had been nothing. An entirely eerie calm was descending on him. These people... The ones who looked at her like that. They didn't see the vulnerability in her. They didn't know what she looked like when she was scared. When she laughed. The six different emotions she could work through in a five minute time span. Love is blind? Apathy is worse. It doesn't even make out the shapes.

He reached out and she flinched as his hand brushed back a wet strip of her hair. Normally that would send him reeling with self-flagellation. Right now, it was nothing. Tension. Not hate or revulsion. Just anticipation. He let out his breath in a sigh.

His hands twined slowly through her hair, while his eyes looked right into the center of her. Then he lowered his head, and brushed his lips across hers. Her head tipped back, her body sliding a little against the wall, and she let him kiss her. One wonderful, sweet moment, where she was completely open to him. Then he felt her hands fist on his shirt, her mouth open, and her tongue push against his lips, seeking entry. He had always reveled in that. In her naked desire, her unrestrained passion. But there was something in the kiss that felt wrong. He wanted to feel that surrender again. To feel her give herself up to him like that. The pieces were coming together for him now. Retribution. For every time she reduced him to nothing but instinct. For every touch, every sensation, every overwhelming, gut-wrenching step he took towards her. She'd robbed him of his ability to think, to rationalize, or to care about any of it. It was the greatest gift anyone had ever given him and it was time to return the favor.

Mad man.

Carly opened her eyes as Nikolas's lips left hers. She blinked at him, watched his tongue dart across his lips. She couldn't read him. He looked lethal, but in what way, she couldn't begin to guess. Her mouth curled up into a vicious grin. Oh, come on. No fair pulling out of the game the moment it starts to get interesting. Speaking in foreign languages, making declarations and refusing to back them up. She let out a quick and wild laugh. God damn it. God damn all of it.

"Caroline," his voice was sudden and raw. She felt it slide across her skin.

"Don't," she hurled the word back at him. Every hair on her body had stood on end at the sound of that name. Her childhood name, the one her mother had used. God, how sick was she? The scariest thing about him, without doubt, wasn't the threatening Grandmother, the ominous family, or the look in his eyes right now. It was how he said her name. The way his hand would drift along her cheek. It was the promise that he was going to give her something it would turn out she needed. Just the idea, the idea of needing him... It made her go cold with terror.

She shuddered, a quick shiver than ran from her legs right up through her body to her shoulders. She shifted in her small space, lifting her head off the wall. Her lips collided with his, in a dry quick sweep. She stopped, looked at him, her eyes unnaturally bright. His expression was implacable. God, she hated it when people looked at her like that. Jason always looked at her like that. She dove at him again, brushed maddeningly quick, provocative kisses against his parted lips. Gave his bottom lip a teasing bite. His eyes closed, just longer than a blink, then opened with a look of determination that caught her by surprise. She felt his hands tighten in her hair, pull her head back so that her neck was exposed to him. She closed her eyes, waiting for the press of wet flesh against the column of her throat. Instead, his head bent to hers, taking her lower lip between his and gently sucking it into his mouth.

Craving.

It could all be in this one touch. If he wanted it to, he could say it all just by worshiping her bottom lip. He wasn't going to let her do this. Laugh and put on masks. Throw up walls and use his unshakable passion for her against him. He was going to make love to her. Find every vulnerable part of her, expose it... show her he'd take care of her. Never hurt her. Ever. She could trust him. There was nothing in him that wasn't devoted to her, now. That wanted anything more than to sanctify, protect, love.

He trailed his tongue slowly across her lip, and he felt the delicious sensation of her body softening against him. She made a soft sound as his mouth pulled harder on hers. She seemed to slip, a moment, her legs failing her. Nikolas's body held hers fast against the wall. There, he thought. Yes, that's it. That's what he was looking for. His blood rushed through him, making him dizzy with triumph, with hunger. She was his. She was going to be his.

Pride goeth before the fall... Just seconds before Nikolas was about to lift her, to carry her to their bed, she pulled away from him with so much force that her head banged against the wall. She looked at Nikolas with dazed confusion, like someone who had just started awake from a year long coma.

Just as quickly as she had ended their last kiss, she began a new one. She pressed her lips against his, almost as if she were inviting that same attention again, then moved them softly over his, making it difficult for him to do much more than let himself be kissed. She ran her tongue along his lips, pushed inside his mouth. The kiss turned on it's head, from gentle to sparring, and Nikolas pulled back. He shook his head, not bothering with words. She had to know what he meant, and when her eyes narrowed, he knew she understood.

And she didn't like it.

Teasing

Carly shook her head at him. Noooooo, no, no. Unfair. Foul. She grabbed his head in her hands and pulled him back to her, kissing him hard. He...

Damn it, he didn't respond.

Carly growled her lack of effect on him. Her legs were shaking beneath her, her body infused with the knowledge that he'd very nearly melted her into a puddle on the floor. She had no idea what it had been. A simple kiss that had sent her reeling. Made her whole body heat, her head swim. Falling into that kind of want, that spell... it made her skin prickle with fear. She wasn't going to play that game.

She moved her lips over his in delicate strokes. She knew she could entice him. And it worked, he responded almost immediately, moving with her again. But he still wasn't cooperating. Every time she tried to control it -- to deepen, or speed the pace up. To inject the passion that would make this moment just a little less real -- Nikolas pulled back. Just a little. Just enough to frustrate the hell out of her. She let out moans that were more a product of mounting panic than pleasure as he continued to deny her a safety net. She wasn't going to let him DO this, Damn it.

"Stop it," Carly whispered desperately as his lips parted from hers after another attempt to incite him into some kind of action.

Nikolas drew back. He smoothed her hair back from her face. His eyes looked into hers with no sense of embarrassment. What did he think he was doing? She could feel him, hard against her thigh. She knew he was as aroused as she'd ever experienced him and God knows, she was ready for him. She tried to glare at him, but it didn't quite work. Instead she slammed a hand against the wall and whined.

"That's not what I meant!"

Lightening.

The flash lit up the portholes that lined the walls, breaking into the room like a photographer's bulb. Frozen time. They just stared, like they were looking at an image that had been captured forever.

Thunder

The clap came on the heels of the lightening, Mississippi steps behind. It rolled and growled, churning the air in the room. Nikolas moved to her again, his body nestling against hers like it belonged there. Their eyes were on each other's again, and this time they feasted on what they saw there. The mutual lust, the fear, the vulnerability. Both breathed like they were expecting not to find oxygen. Looked as if one false move would cost them the ability to remain upright. They had never been this close before. Naked or clothed, in bed or out, never felt this undressed in each other's sight. He could feel her heartbeat like it was his own. Their breathing had taken on the same rhythm.

Please

"Let me."

It was a statement of intention. Carly looked up at him with wide eyes he couldn't read. She let out a long breath and looked just for a moment, like she was going to give in. Surrender herself to him. It was in that moment, that she rallied, her hands fisting at the collar of the shirt and pulling hard in opposite directions. Nikolas pulled back just as the white cotton made a ripping sound and buttons were released from captivity, dropping to the wood floor and bouncing off in different directions.

Reveal

He looked, momentarily, surprised. Carly gave a smirk of triumph. But Nikolas just reached down, between their bodies, and undid the few remaining buttons. Carly stared at him, almost as if he was betraying her somehow. He pulled the shirt loose from his pants, then undid the cuffs. He glanced up, meeting her eyes, before pulling the shirt from his body. Carly's breath caught as he peeled the white cotton from his body, exposing his chest and torso to her. He had the kind of body that stopped traffic, but what got her was the look in his eyes as he stripped out of his shirt. Like this was an offering. Here is what I have to give, please accept it.

Succumb

The thought was still echoing in her head when Nikolas's hands moved to hers. She stared at him questioningly as he grasped her wrists and lifted her hands, pressing her palms flat against his chest. He lowered his head to her ear, his arms caging her against the wall.

"Push me away," he urged her. "If it feels like too much, push me away."

His lips brushed across her cheek and Carly's eyes fell closed. This was unreal. Any pretense of what he was trying to do to her was gone. She was starting to understand what those Russian words were really saying. She'd taken it for some sort of sexual possessiveness, but it went deeper than that. Physical nakedness wasn't enough for him. He wanted it all.

"Nikolas." her voice wavered. His only answer to her was to move his lips from one side of her neck to the other, this time breathing hot air on her skin, before trailing kisses from behind her ear down to the base of her neck. Carly heard herself whimper, tried to squirm against the strong burning sensation that was spreading from her neck, along her shoulders, and through her body right down to her toes.

She felt so helpless as his lips found hers again. She knew what he was looking for. And with her body going weak, she gave it to him. Parted her lips without attack. Let him in, without trying to take over. He made love to her lips for long moments before letting his tongue venture between them. The kiss took on a kind of focus Carly had never been the subject of. His tongue gently slid under hers, and slowly stroked the underside. Meanwhile his hands had started to drag over her body. First down, then back up. Caressing, touching on all soft spots. Brushing over the back of her knee, up her thighs, then over her hips, up her sides, stroking her breasts.

Carly let out a moan, and closed her hands against his chest. She fought between the intense desire to pull away, to assert herself, and the desire to... Oh, God. The crippling desire to just surrender to him. To hand herself over, completely. How did he do this to her? Her whole life, no matter how many men she took to her bed, she'd always ducked this one. Used their want and need to shield herself from the full reality of what she was exposing to them. Push him, she told herself. Push him away, he'll be grateful to get whatever you offer him.

She felt something in her tighten like a fist. He was just as bad as Jason. Going after the same thing. Some piece of her that she'd let out and never get back. She couldn't do this again. She couldn't just fall into someone and give without getting. She was going to choke. Or scream. Or collapse into a fit of tears. She could feel it coming. Building up in her. She had to do something. Rip, tear, destroy -- and he was so close, his hands touching her all over, his mouth plundering hers. She had to do something. She had to, before she lost her mind completely.

She started to touch him, and he didn't stop her. Her hands moved down his pecs, to the plane of his stomach, and she heard him let out something that she was sure WANTED to be a groan as her hands started back up, lightly brushing the curve of his rib cage. His skin was starting to perspire with the strain of his aroused state. Not that she was doing much better. She moved her hands back to his chest, stroking the firm and twitching muscles. Dragging her thumbs across the hard nipples, the angled cut of his torso. He moaned into her mouth before pulling from their kiss. His head bowed, and she felt it rest on her shoulder. She closed her eyes and leaned herself against him, reeling.

Conquest

Nikolas was nearly shaking with restraint as he pulled his mouth from hers. She had done it. She had trusted him, and now... Now whatever strength, sanity and resolve he had left was hers. That was the truth of it, and he knew there was no point in denying it. She owned him. His heart, his soul, his body all ached for her. Her hands felt so good on him. Her body felt so pliant. It was all he'd ever wanted in his whole life, and the idea of finally having it was enough to drive him right out of his mind.

He took a breath, then another one. Careful, deep breaths. Thank God for Tai Chi, or he'd never make it through this. He lifted his head, opened his eyes, to the sight of her skin, quavering with the effort of breath. She was all that was left in the world at this moment. Storm raging outside, the boat bouncing on the water, and all he knew was her smell, her taste, and the feel of her body through her dress as it pressed against his bare skin.

He started kissing her again. Her neck, then her shoulder. That hollow where the muscles parted ways. His hands slid around her back, grabbing at her dress. He heard her let out a soft mewlling sigh, against his ear, and her nails scratched along his sides. His hands found the line where her dress ended and her back began. He kissed her skin hungrily, frantically laying wet kisses behind her ear, along her jaw, under her chin. She moved to give him access to any place he searched for entrance. Yes, God, yes, this was it. This was how he wanted her tonight. This was what he wanted to be able to show her. His hands grabbed the zipper, and he managed to pull it with almost musical fluidity, down the curve of her spine to the small of her back, where it maddeningly ended.

The material parted, exposing new skin. Untouched. She was so warm, and he could feel the rapid beat of her heart under his hands as they slid over her, up and down her back, along her rib cage, under the strap of her bra. He nuzzled her neck, then her shoulder, pushing the strap of the dress down to her arm, while his hands freed her breasts from their confinement. She was quivering in his arms, her hands still, and he knew they had to find the bed soon. God, he needed that. To lay her down, to be able to take her in. Decide how and where to express himself first.

Incapacitated

Carly's mind was betraying her. She didn't know what to do, how to pull herself out of this. She was sinking by the second, and the unmistakable want that Nikolas was pouring over her only served to make everything feel... more. She was half undressed, her stomach hurt, her jaw ached with tension, her legs were useless. She felt like overripe fruit about to plummet from the tree. Terrified but unable to hold on one-second longer.

His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her against him, her shoulders still resting against the wall, the rest of her in a close embrace against his body. Rock and a hard place, her brain spit out at her. She let out a hysterical squeak as his mouth kissed the space where her breasts met. She felt his hands slide over the curve of her bottom, and slipped under her skirt. This time they ventured up, sliding along the inside of her thighs, parting them. She whimpered against his shoulder. Then they moved again, feeling the lace of her panties, stroking her skin through the thin, barely-there material. She felt his fingers hook the material on her hips, and pull. They fell with his assistance, and even inside the undone dress, Carly felt completely naked. His hands returned to her thighs and she felt him pull her away from the wall.

All right. Yes. Please. God. Her legs closed around him. Her thighs hugged his waist, and her arms held his neck. He lifted her away from the wall and everything seemed to spin and lurch around her as he carried her to their bed.

Shared surrender.

She landed with no prelude, just found herself sitting, legs and arms still around her husband, on the edge of their bed. He was still standing before her. The bed was so high off the floor, her feet didn't touch, and she foggily noticed Nikolas grab the frame that ran along the ceiling with one hand to steady himself. She pulled his head down to hers, her mouth opening under his, and when his tongue began to stroke against hers, she responded automatically. There was no thought involved here, just pure, unadulterated lust. She could feel her legs shaking just a little, her stomach was flipping over and over, while the boat rocked them and another flash of lightening cut through the dim light, The thunder followed on cue, no room for any words in between. Was that just the second? Or had she missed the rest?

The question was drowned out by the sound of her blood rushing around her body, and Nikolas groaning against her. Oh, God, he was hard. She could still feel him against her thigh, higher now. Still inside his pants, but so close to where she wanted him to be. Her hands slid off his neck and moved down his body, using it as a guide to help her find... there. Waistband. Belt. Shit.

He was kissing her without reprieve, incapable of pulling back or breaking from her. If he wasn't careful, he was just going to black out. But it was overpowering. Like thirst you couldn't drown and hunger you couldn't feed. You try until you're sick, but you still want more.

It was her hands, struggling with the clasp of his belt, that finally penetrated his brain. He pulled back panting for breath, and her face immediately turned from his. Her fingers started to lead the leather strip through the belt loops he'd carefully tucked in into earlier, until she had both ends in her hands, managing to pull the leather free from the buckle. Loosened. Undone. She looked up at him with breathless triumph. Higher engineering foiled again.

He dragged slow breaths into his lungs as he gazed down at her. Her fingers were running, along the waist band and she was looking at him with heavy eyes. Now, he told himself. Shed the pants, get into the bed, and... Oh, GOD.

Carly pressed her face against his abdomen, laying a wet kiss just above the button of his trousers. Her tongue lightly skimmed across his navel and Nikolas let his head drop back, a single word escaping from his throat.

"No..."

Because this got to him. So much it scared him. The first time they'd made love, she'd trailed her lips across his stomach and he had very nearly crumbled before her. She did it now, and she knew, this time, that it made him crazy. She knew his body in ways no one else ever had. He gripped the frame with his hand to prevent himself from sinking to the floor under her touch. Pleasure. Extreme, dangerous, soft pleasure. That sharp feeling of panic when you expose your underbelly to someone, and the blinding euphoria that follows her responding with just the right touch.

Carly felt some sense of herself returning as she tongued the skin across his belly. He quaked at her touch, let out a hoarse, rumbling moan. Mine, she thought with a quick smile, as she sucked on the tender skin. I know exactly how to take you down, Nikolas. Give me time, I will find the right button. She felt him shiver violently against her mouth, and pulled back, looking up at him, wanting to catch the expression on his face.

He had buried his head against the bend of his arm, and he kept it there, eyes tightly shut, until the sensations rippling through him stilled enough for him to trust himself with movement. He turned and looked down at her, his eyes catching hers. And that was it.

It was over.

That look in his eyes broke anything that had known how to resist him. Smashed it to pieces. He looked so intensely vulnerable and grateful and trusting, it all just shot right through her. He wasn't looking to control her, to take anything without handing it all right back to her. It was all right there. So clear it made her breath catch. She wanted to turn away from him, but she felt stuck. Instead, eyes fixed on his, she found the button on his pants with her fingers. She watched his breathing change -- careful and strained -- as she undid the button, then moved her fingers to the fly. His eyes closed a moment, and he murmured some curse under his breath. She slid her hands into his boxers, caressing the private flesh she found there, before taking him in her hands. He was struggling, she could tell, not to look away. To stay with her. She gave him a small, shaky smile, and then pushed the surrounding material away, leaving him naked before her.

She sat back a little, and looked at him. Dark skin, unblemished and stretched over his lean body. His chest was rising and falling under the burden of breath, and he was painfully aroused. She shook her head slightly. She didn't understand him. Why he chose to draw this out like this. But she looked up at him, almost expectantly, and saw his eyes drowning in an emotion she preferred not to name.

"Lie down."

Carly shuddered at the soft entreating voice, and found herself obeying. She leaned back on the mattress supported by her elbows, still looking up at him. He just looked at her. His eyes were heavy, like it was a strain to keep open, and every blink was languid and hazy. One hand came to rest against her knee. She looked at him, waiting.

He bent over her, both hands grasping the material of her dress. She felt him gathering it in his fists, slowly working it up her thighs. His lips grazed the skin as it was exposed, and Carly dropped her head back. Just a few quick touches and it was like she'd never had even the slightest bit of control over the situation. She wanted to feel him so badly. Having endured all this attention without ever feeling his mouth, his hands, his cock against most of her body... She didn't know how she had the capacity to feel more than she already was. But she had to. Because the feel of his breath on her inner thighs was about ready to send her through the stratosphere.

She lifted her hips and the dress rose to her waist. His hands slid under it, lightly brushing the underside of her breasts as his mouth hovered between her legs. She was shaking. Waiting, breathless, for what he was going to do next. Hands slid around the curve of her bosom, cupping the sides without touching her nipples. Dear GOD he was exasperating.

The thought was pushed out of her brain as he exhaled hot breath over her mound. She let out a cry, and her legs fell open. Her hips rose again, this time nearly of their own volition. She felt his cheek press against the flesh of her thigh, and then his tongue against her skin.

"Oh, Christ, Nikolas..." Carly closed her eyes. Stars. She was seeing stars. Her body was jerking and spasming at the lightest brush of his tongue on the inside of her thigh. She wasn't going to survive this. There was no way, sensory overload, she was going to short-circuit.... Ah! She let out another cry, no words, as his hands brushed lightly across her breasts, then zeroed in on her hard and aching nipples. His palms caressed them, followed by his fingers, while his mouth sucked provocatively on soft skin. She bit her lip, hard, and arched her back. God, yes. This was going to kill her.

Nikolas felt drunk and sober. Lost and completely aware at the same time. She was the only person who had ever stirred this in him. This knowledge that went beyond what he was aware of knowing. His love for her knew how to express itself. It knew how to make her understand, while every other part of him struggled under the weight of logic. This was not a part of that. It was stronger than him. Stronger than fear and self-doubt. It just knew one thing. This woman is all you need. And this is how you make her understand.

Her body had opened to him. He'd only earned that privilege a few times -- all since their marriage. There was a difference between her making the conscious decision to invite him into her, and the way she'd fall open when she wasn't aware of what was going on around them. It was incredible, receiving that moment. Where she lay ready to meet him. Where making out became making love.

She was glistening and swollen. So very very wet. For him. He felt nearly knocked over by the wave of gratitude. For her, for it, whatever had brought them together. Whatever was finally allowing him to have someone's trust and heart this way. He leaned forward, into her, and dipped his tongue between her legs and her body jerked again. His hands slipped from under her dress and moved down to grasp her hips. He pressed his tongue between the lips of her sex again. She had always led him through the map of her body. From their first night together, introducing him to what worked and how it worked. He knew where to touch her. He just hadn't... touched her like this. She was moaning inarticulately, couldn't have answered a question if he'd asked it. He wanted so much to discover a part of her on his own. He darted his tongue out and let it stroke roughly across her clit.

She shrieked, her hands flying up to his head and grabbing his hair.

Indication. Might have done something right.

He leaned forward, intoxicated by the violence of her reaction, and kissed her clit like he had her mouth earlier. Sucking gently, running his tongue over it, worshiping it. She writhed under him, crying out his name, coupled with entreaties, the names of various religious figures and a less godly words.

He was still surprised when she orgasmed. it was so strong, so quick, and she was so taken over by it. Her whole body went taut, and then released -- something he'd experienced with her before. But always inside her. Always thisclose to the edge himself. Usually grateful to anything and everything that he'd managed to give her this before being taken over completely by his own inevitable submission. He replaced his mouth with his hand, running his thumb over her and watching her as she rode out the waves.

Oh, God, she was beautiful. She was just heartbreaking, amazing. Her hands slipped onto his shoulders, then fell to the bed in weak fists. He grabbed her hand in his, and raise it to his lips, kissing the inside of her wrist. There was no sense to it, but that was one of his favorite parts of her body. He leaned over her, and lay another kiss on the bend of her arm.

She let out another whimper as his mouth moved from her arm, to her stomach, the dress being pushed further up as Nikolas got to his feet, and lifted her body into his arms. She was limp, and barely seemed to notice as he pulled the dress over her head, worked her arms out of the bra, and tossed both garments aside. He lifted her in his arms, turning her lengthwise on the bed, and following her body with his. The moment they lay together again, her hand closed around his arm, and she placed a wet kiss against his shoulder. She followed his by kissing his neck, his collarbone, the underside of his chin. Nikolas felt decidedly unsteady and closed his eyes under the assault.

"Please," the word came out of her mouth like a prayer. Came forth in a stream, stumbling over itself. "Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please..." Nikolas pulled back from her, laying her on the bed again, and held himself on his arms, over her.

"Please," he repeated. God, he thought, he was this close to saying the same to her. She just shook her head, giving him no indication of what she'd been thinking, wanting, asking for. He moved his body up hers and silenced her with a demanding kiss. She returned it immediately, devouring him like she'd been near starvation. Nikolas felt himself unravel. This was it. This was Carly. Tender and fierce, welcoming and protected, with soft breasts, parted lips, sharp fingernails. His wife, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in heath. In everything she was and everything she was going to be. He honored it, all of it. Cherished her. Held her in arms and hands and heart, and dared anyone to try to undo this.

It was building in him like his need for her body. It has to come out. He has to say it just like he has to find himself inside her soon. It's too much and there is nothing he can do to stop it. His body coming to rest on hers, he felt her legs wrap around him and she looked up at him with wild eyes. He was lost. Completely under her spell now. He grabbed onto the only thread the Gods could offer him.

"Ya tebya lyublyu."

The words spilled out of him. Tumbled from his mouth like they'd been living on the tip of his tongue. He felt himself flush, a heat take over his body. She looked at him without understanding and he closed his eyes.

"Ya tebya lyublyu."

Carly's lips met with his collar bone, and Nikolas let his head droop. He held himself up on one arm with all remaining strength. he only had enough to satisfy the need for her, and not much beyond that. his body was shaking with the effort of restraint, and as she rocked her hips against him enticingly, he knew she either had no idea what he'd just said to her, or it really made no difference. One day this force in him would make him say that in words she'd understand. But for right now, he just allowed himself the release of having told her. No matter how cowardly, having finally said "I love you".

He lifted his head as Carly's fell back onto the mattress. She looked up at him, at the pained and unsteady look in his eyes and felt herself flush. God, the effort. Like he hadn't already driven her right out of her senses. She could feel her pulse through every part of her body. And she wanted him to feel it too.

"Nikolas," she whispered to him. Her legs tightened around him. "Now."

Nikolas's body twitched against her. His eyes were so raw, so filled with... need and want and awareness. Defenseless. She felt a sharp pang in her stomach. All memory of this being a war, being anything but that look she kept seeing in his eyes was gone. It was so overwhelming. Made her feel panicky and scared, warm and held, and, oh shit, loved. She closed her eyes and took a careful breath. She felt lightheaded. Feverish. Her body was slick with perspiration -- hers, his -- and the room felt stifling. The rain outside sounded miles away. His heart felt like it was beating on the inside of her head. She gently stroked his chest with trembling hands, bit her lip, and held his gaze. She wanted to give him this. No investigations into why, please. But she wanted to see his eyes as he entered her.

He understood, and didn't flinch as he positioned himself between her legs. He pushed himself against her, looking like it was about killing him to keep his eyes on her, but not looking away, then entered slowly, Carefully, with his breath strained, and his eyes burning into hers. Carly felt herself stretch for him, and her heart swell in her chest. Everything seemed to expand, and she felt little sparks run up and down her legs, arms, through her chest. His arms slid under hers, and he gathered her body against him.

"Oh..." she breathed, as he thrust himself entirely inside her. He grunted, then brought his mouth down on hers in a hot and desperate kiss. Hanging by a thread. She drank him in, felt the heat of his body against hers, found herself shivering anyway. The boat was rising and falling beneath them in the most inciting and seductive way. Rocking them just a little, enough to make them both nearly weak with lust. Nikolas let out a low groan, and Carly arched her back, pressing herself more firmly against him. He sucked in his breath, then began to move inside her. Carly lay back against the bed, and let her eyes close as she rolled her hips under him.

People equate sex and power all the time, and while Nikolas understood instinctively where that came from, there was never any moment in the entire enterprise where he felt powerful. Strong, yes. Occasionally, invincible. And for every moment like that, there was a moment of equal frailty. Of being weak at the sight of her. Incoherent at the slightest touch. It all came from her. She charged him. Fed whatever she was into him and coaxed everything he tried to keep lurking in dark corners forward. And Nikolas felt that part bleed into him, take him over, as he lost himself in the heat of her embrace. It felt dangerous in a way he'd never experienced, this intimacy. The intoxication of being held by someone, so completely. He felt words tumble out of his mouth again, and hoped to God they weren't in English. She let out a cry under him, and his brain just shut down as he felt her arch suddenly and violently under him. Her whole body, inside and out, clutched at him, and Nikolas felt himself tense in a sudden attack, grabbed by the throat by the physical manifestation of everything he felt for her. He exploded inside her, his body shuddering, shaking, and collapsing limp against her. It felt like falling into her in every possible way. He was vaguely aware of her hands sliding around his back, trailing over his skin. Her hot kiss on his neck, and her quick bite of his earlobe. A possessive arm tightened around her and drew her against his chest as he found the ability to roll over, falling onto his back and bringing her body with him.

Carly relaxed into the safety of Nikolas's arms, and let herself sink against his body. His grip on her was so strong, so absolute. God, she loved how he held her. No time more than after sex. Like he couldn't stand to let her go. Didn't want to know where they both started and ended. She lay against his chest, exhausted and vaguely aware that something had happened. Some part of her had been exposed to the light. She closed her eyes against this knowledge, felt the rise and fall of his chest, and let it lull her. Take all of this away.

Minutes -- God knows how many -- passed. She could hear the wind now, and the pelting rain. The boat was rocking, though not so much that it was any real cause for concern. She blinked heavy eyes, aware of a slight chill now. Of air moving around in a room that had felt like a furnace a few minutes earlier. She shivered in a sudden attack of cold, and Nikolas stirred next to her. She turned her face to him, and he leaned down, almost instinctively finding her mouth, and pulling her into a drugging, bone-melting, tender and love-filled kiss. Carly fell right into it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Felt her body flutter under it's effects, her eyes close, her whole being sigh with the rightness of it.

Her stomach turned slow somersaults, but in her dazed state, she paid no attention. Not to that, not to the tiny aftershocks that were moving through her. She felt her heart like it was growing inside her. Swelling in her chest, expanding as Nikolas touched her, until it seemed to burst in her, pouring warmth like sticky syrup through her veins.

Carly let out a gasp, her eyes flying open, and pulled herself away from him, sitting up. God, it felt so real. She could hear her heart thundering in her ears, but it felt so real. She felt another, entirely unwelcome, sensation surge inside her. She fought against it, choked on it, tried to hold it in behind the hand she pressed over her mouth. But her eyes overflowed, and she shoulders shook.

"Carly," he was behind her, his hands on her shoulders. She shook her head hard. His fingers pushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ears. She felt the press of his lips on her shoulder. "Carly, please."

She let out a strangled wail, cutting it off by twisted her body towards him. He enveloped her, buried her face against his chest. It wouldn't stop, though. Bursting out of her chest, kicking her in the gut. She let out ugly, rasping sobs. People cried after sex in books. Movies. On the strength of some mind-blowing orgasm. Not minutes later. Not because of a kiss.

She felt him pull her up into his arms, her body into his lap, and rock her. She gripped his arms, and let herself cry. God this was wrong. And right. And confusing. She didn't know what was going on, what she was feeling, or what to do with it. She just let him hold her and wept until the tears stopped. He was whispering to her, those words. Those words he kept repeating to her. She leaned into him, nuzzled the crook of his neck. The part deep inside her, the one that understood, knew no language barriers, the one she'd ignore the next morning, whispered to him. Spoke truth she wasn't prepared for. She raised her lips to his ear and murmured the phonetics back to him on fractured breath.

"Ya teb... ya lyublyu."