Feedback: Mai oui!
Notes: I don't know how receptive everyone is to blatant sexual content... The first chapter was very tame, and this one is... not. And I hope I don't embarrass anyone. *^_^*
Warning: Spoilers still running wild
Chapter Two: Garden Of Eden
Long after the ceremony, the reception and the tearful blessings from Victor’s family, when night-time had surrounded our new house and all was quiet except for the muted sounds of the surf, Victor looked intently into my eyes and took my hands in his own, and I knew, without words, what it was he meant to say. He took a candle and, hand in hand, he led me up the staircase and to our bed-room.
My heart was beating so hard, I thought it might leave a bruise upon my chest, but his steadiness, his assuredness put me at ease. I remember every little detail–––the chiaroscuro of his face in the low candlelight, the way my fingers felt in his hand, the sound of my dress rustling softly as we ascended the stairs–––but most clearly of all, I remember his eyes and the expression of love there that filled me with passion.
He closed the bed-room door, set the candle upon the writing desk and came to me, touched my face as though I were made of bone china and kissed me. Oh, his kisses, each that I’ve savored, are so tender and exquisite, they rob me of my breath, my sense, myself. His small, soft lips against mine, pleading but insistent and utterly captivating, they were a prelude to something more that night, something beautiful and unknown.
Softly he spoke my name; “Victoria...” And I replied in kind, my nerves alight like the air that crackles in anticipation of a thunder-storm. Perhaps it was my breathlessness, the sound of his name spoken in such a rapturous tone or his own desire that spurred him to such bravery, but I would never know because I had no chance to ask.
“May I unf-fasten your dress?” he murmured, and I nodded, “Oh yes...” My trembling had reached an extraordinary level and he touched my chin with concern.
“Nevermind me,” I said, my teeth chattering. “Please... Undress me, Victor.”
And so he did. I sat upon our bed and he worked open the row of small buttons along my back. I felt his breath upon the nape of my neck, which made me shiver and gasp, and I put a hand over my lips, embarrassed–––it was the first time ever in my life that any man had seen my bare skin in such a way. And then, thrill upon thrill, he kissed me between my shoulders, his fingers brushing my corset. I turned to face him very quickly and flung my arms round his neck.
“Hold me,” I said urgently, “Very tightly, please.”
“What’s the matter?” he asked as he squeezed me close to him.
“I feel as though I might break apart into a hundred pieces like a flock of birds,” I spoke into that lovely place between his neck and shoulder.
He said, “I promise I won’t let that happen.”
Neither of my parents had ever explained the physical duties of a wife to me, and so Hildegarde, my attendress, had advised me the night before my wedding.
“You’re very lucky to have found a young man you feel so happy about,” she had said with a smile. “Remember above all else that lovemaking is filled with happiness when you love each other. It’s joyful.”
Still, the specific instructions had left me feeling dizzy and anxious, and I had prayed for the nerve to go through with it.
The ice of the winter sea had made our room very cold, so we bundled under the bedcovers, our bodies heating us as well as any hearth. I was grateful for this, embarrassed of my nakedness, and Victor seemed to feel the same. As I asked, he took the white linen sheet I had embroidered for so long from the chest at the foot of the bed and spread it neatly beneath us.
I can only suppose that he had been advised by some divine spirit, because the things he did to me were so beautiful and shocking that I am entirely without words to describe them. I was reduced to a state of primal bliss, uttering incoherent exclamations of pleasure, my fingers desperately searching for a hold, and so I bit them until Victor clasped them in his own.
At that moment I felt as if he was the first man and I was the first woman, and our room had grown wild with flowers and vines into the Garden of Eden, and we were breathing the very first breath of the world.
I had been surrendering absolutely to him until the moment I felt something giant ball up inside me, filling my chest and throat with too much air, and I begged him to stop, and at once he was still. The act pained him visibly–––he was balanced over me, pressed tightly between my legs, his eyes shut tight and his lips open in mid-gasp. Looking at him then, with a knife of pleasure driven through me, I saw that I had as much power over him as he had over me. His cheeks were splotched with blush, his hair in charming disarray, and he waited, trembling, for my word.
I said, “Continue,” and he continued.
There are moments in every person’s life when everything they have been taught is thrown into question by some strange or wonderful event. The past week had put my life into such an uproar that I thought it was impossible to be shaken by anything as trifling as mortal concepts, but in his bed–––in our bed–––enfolded in my new husband’s arms, filled with him until I could not breathe, until euphoric tears trickled sideways down my cheeks, I understood that as long as people are built with the capacity for love, we will never stop being amazed by ourselves.
When it was over, Victor laid his head upon my breasts and I stroked his fine black hair. He sighed happily, shivering in the wake of release. He asked me if he had hurt me, and I told him no, he hadn’t. It was my first lie to him. Truthfully, it had hurt very much at first, but even the pain had been pleasurable, because it had been inflicted by he whom I loved the most. Imagine! Still, as we lay together, I felt I had been faintly burned, and was vaguely uncomfortable, and, to make amends for my first lie, I admitted this to Victor, who hurried from the bed, put on his dressing gown and went to the window. I sat up, perplexed, but laughed when he came to the bed with a handful of snow. He smiled so sweetly then that I thought my heart might burst. He cared for me so attentively, I felt like a queen.
He quelled my embarrassment, pulled the covers away and gently applied the snow between my legs, which was shockingly cold, as you can imagine, but felt tremendously nice and began to melt directly, washing away the bit of blood.
He watched me with such an open, earnest expression, smiling as if he were the most contented man in the world, his long fingers moving tenderly between my legs, and I began to tremble again, consumed with blush. I was far too self-aware to speak, but he spoke for me.
“I love you,” he said. “I’ve never been happier than I am at this precise moment... I– I hardly know how to comprehend it...” He laid his free hand on my knee, leant forward in enthusiasm. “I’ll never know how to thank Emily for giving you to me.”
I felt a pang of sadness then, the same that always played in me when he mentioned the bride before me, the beautiful and doomed corpse bride, Emily. He had mistakenly proposed to her in the forest seven days ago, on the eve of our wedding, which threw both our lives into pandemonium. In the end, after much misadventure, heartbreak and near-death, Emily–––whose heart, though physically defunct, was better than gold–––took my hand and gave me to Victor.
“How could I ever forgive myself if I came between two people in love?” she had said. It meant she had had to release her long-awaited dream of being married, an inconceivable sacrifice, and she had done it because she loved Victor as much as I. For that, I would be eternally in her debt.