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Drowning in the Absolute Yes

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The passage is from the abstract and symbolic of the kiss of a prelate's ring, dry as written sentences, to the total carnality of one person drowning in the absolute 'Yes' of another's open mouth.

Raymond Tallis, The Kingdom of Infinite Space

 

Several months of marital felicity had granted Elizabeth Darcy happiness of a more profound and complete nature than even she had anticipated. With her husband, she had explored the delights of unfettered intellect and feeling, coupled with pleasures of a more intimate and physical nature.

It was the latter that occupied her thoughts, in the small hours of the morning, as she lay curled against her sleeping husband.

"Elizabeth, I can hear you thinking."

At his voice sounding so unexpectedly in the silence she started. "Fitzwilliam!" she scolded. "I thought you to be asleep."

"And so I was," he replied as he turned toward her in the bed. "Until the force of your consideration woke me." Reaching out his hand to caress her cheek, he said more seriously, "Will you not tell me what troubles you?"

Although the bed curtains were not drawn, the night was still very dark and Elizabeth could make out little more than the lines of his face and the faint lightness of his eyes. "I do not know how to speak of it," she admitted at last.

"Is it so very terrible, then?"

"Not terrible, no," she said slowly. "But, it is not quite... proper. It -- oh, I do not know!" She laughed at herself helplessly.

Darcy brought her into his arms so that she felt his steady pulse under her cheek. With his palms splayed wide, he smoothed his hands down her back and up again at a languorous pace. When she relaxed in his embrace, he murmured, "Elizabeth, my love, just tell me."

She sighed and tucked her head more firmly against his chest. "I am sure you recall the night some weeks ago when you returned from Town."

Under and around her, his body stiffened slightly, and his hands faltered in their movements. "I do."

Elizabeth pressed a kiss over his heart, thankful for the darkness as a flush burnt her cheeks. Even the recollection of that evening sent a shiver of desire through her.

After three nights apart, Darcy returned from urgent business with his solicitor late in the afternoon. There was little opportunity for a private welcoming, and Elizabeth was somewhat perplexed by his silence and distance. It reminded her very much of his behaviour to her in Hertfordshire when they were first acquainted.

After retiring, she changed into her nightgown and entered his rooms to find him still dressed and standing at the fireplace. She knew not how to read his expression.

"Fitzwilliam, is there anything the matter?" she asked.

He walked to her then and held her close. She wrapped her arms about his waist and he sighed into her hair as if a great burden had been lifted from him. "No," he answered after a moment. "There is nothing the matter now."

Elizabeth pulled away to see his face. "But there was something earlier? You were very quiet at dinner."

A sweet smile lifted his lips, the rarest kind, that she had only ever seen bestowed upon Georgiana and herself. "It is only that I have missed you and it has made me foolish."

She laughed in delight. "I should like to know how you are foolish, sir. It is a singular opportunity, indeed."

"Perhaps I will tell you," he said as he leaned down to kiss her. "Later."

He made love to her that night with a ferocity that she had never before felt in him. It might have alarmed her had she not felt the same keen edge. At the height of his pleasure, as she sat astride him, he had buried his face desperately into the curve of her shoulder. She felt his hot, moist breath and the flat edges of his teeth against her skin as he surged within her. And in the moment of his climax, his jaw had clenched and his teeth closed over her flesh in a hard, punishing bite.

The incredible shock of it made her cry out as her own release shook her and shook her in its grip.

In the days that followed, Darcy had been full of remorse, making love to her with a gentle reverence that moved her deeply. As the bruising faded, his guilt eased, but her own passionate response to his action remained in her mind.

Elizabeth was brought back from her recollection by a hand tilting her face up to what little light there was in the room.

"You know that I would never intentionally injure you or cause you pain?" he asked, his expression troubled.

"Of course I know that," she reassured him. "There has not been a moment when I have doubted it."

"Then what is it about that night you wish to tell me?"

"Only that--" she paused and bit her lip, summoning her courage. "Only that I believe I should like you to do it again."

She held her breath and watched the awareness of her admission come over his face.

"You wish me to bite you," he said slowly.

"Yes," she whispered, embarrassment writhing through her. She could not bear to see disgust in his expression.

"And this would bring you pleasure?"

"I -- I think it would, yes."

"Where?"

A shudder overtook her as the possibilities inherent in his question flooded her mind. "Anywhere," she managed.

He regarded her for a moment. "Anywhere? Or everywhere?"

Her breath caught in her throat and she was trapped under his penetrating gaze. He knew. He knew precisely what it was that she desired. "Yes."

His thumb swept across her bottom lip to dip into the warm recess of her mouth. She sucked it lightly and licked away the salt of his skin.

"Elizabeth, you must promise to tell me if I hurt you too much. Promise me." His voice had deepened, become rougher.

Releasing his thumb, she nodded. "I promise."

And so it began. He lit a single candle, then removed his nightshirt and her own when her trembling fingers refused to work the ties. They kissed for long minutes, pressed together in the warm bed, until Darcy eased away from her mouth and began to explore the rest of her.

His lips brushed her temple, trailing down over her cheek. She arched her neck as his teeth grazed the lobe of her ear, before moving on to the hollow of her collarbone. Slowly, inch by inch, his mouth made its way across her skin, pausing to suckle here or nibble there. He nipped at her inner arm and made her shiver. Then he moved across to her breast and took the nipple into his mouth.

Instead of laving his tongue over her, or suckling, as she expected, he merely held the hardened nub between his teeth. After a moment, she became aware of the heat of his mouth as it surrounded that tiny point, and the pass of his breath across the sensitive flesh. It was as though every sensation in her body were focused there exclusively. Her toes curled and she whimpered, arching up against him to encourage him to do something, anything, more.

Slowly, his jaw began to move and he licked at her with sharp motions of his tongue, slight little stabs that speared through her to the ache between her legs. At the same time, he palmed her other breast and began to squeeze it gently.

All the while she shifted beneath him, restless, longing for his body on her, in her, to soothe the gnawing ache. And then, when she was almost mindless with sensation, he bit her.

She cried out and her body convulsed upwards, her eyes wide and shocked. He moved with her, maintaining the caress of both his hand and tongue, soothing her until she quivered under him.

Dazed, her nipple tender even to his gentle ministrations, she reached out to touch his cheek, to feel the muscles in his jaw. Her smallest finger slipped into his mouth to rub against her along with his tongue. "Please do not stop," she whispered, and he closed his eyes as if in pain.

Finally, he released her nipple, and she saw that the flesh was red and swollen. The sight sent another jolt of pleasure through her. Her body hummed like a tuning fork. Darcy moved to her other breast and this time took not her nipple into his mouth but the flesh underneath it.

Elizabeth moved her hands about his shoulders and into his hair, wanting and dreading at once. This time, instead of a sudden bite, he steadily increased the pressure until she thought her skin must tear off in his mouth. The pain was almost unbearable and she moaned against it, clenching her slick thighs desperately. She wanted him to stop and she wanted him to fill her but underneath the pain was an intoxication so intense it was almost suffocating.

When Darcy released her, she let out a ragged sob of relief. He raised his head and kissed her ravenously. An equal frenzy gripped her and she grasped him to her, twining her legs about his and clutching any part she could reach.

He nipped at her lips, her tongue, and she moaned into his mouth. Finally, he rested his forehead against her, panting. "My God, Elizabeth--" his rough voice broke off. "You are well? You are not injured?"

She took his beloved face in both her hands. "No," she whispered. "No I am not injured. I am well." She laughed a little in an excess of feeling. "I am well."

He choked out a sound that might have been his own laugh and kissed her again. Then he moved down her body once more, and she gripped the sheets tightly. He grazed her ribs and nipped at the soft flesh of her belly, before rubbing his scratchy cheeks against the thin skin covering the bone of her hip. Her muscles fluttered under his touch.

"I love this part of you," he murmured. "Before we were wed, I longed to touch you here; to place my hands on you and hold you to me. I desired you before I ever loved you, but once I loved you, I desired you even more."

Without gentleness now, his large hands stretched her thighs wide apart. Elizabeth turned her gasping mouth into the pillow. She knew what was to come and suddenly she knew she could not bear it. Her hands meant to push him away but instead they gripped him tightly against her. Her mouth meant to tell him no, tell him stop, but instead it only whimpered, high and breathless, "oh, oh."

He squeezed and bit her thighs, slid his fingers through the dark curls at the heart of her, caressed her with hands and lips, tongue and teeth, rough cheeks and soft, dark hair. But never, never where she wanted most.

"Please... I cannot..." she begged, finally, when she was maddened, beyond all rational thought. If he would only end this terrible, desperate agony.

And then she felt his hot breath just an instant before his tongue swiped a trail of fire up her wet, swollen sex. She arched against him helplessly just as his mouth came down and enveloped her, burningly hot. He licked and sucked at her mercilessly while her head rolled back and forth on the pillow in restless denial.

And then she felt the sharp points of his teeth crimp delicately at her most sensitive flesh and the pain was nothing she'd ever felt before, so sharp and white it seemed to melt her very bones. She cried out mindlessly as her body caught fire and froze at the same time, and wave upon endless wave of pleasure broke over her and left her shattered by the storm.

When it was over, she lay gasping, her cheeks wet with tears she could not remember shedding, and her husband's face pressed hard against her belly. He was shaking.

She opened her mouth to say his name and no sound emerged. Licking her lips and swallowing she made a second attempt. "Fitzwilliam?"

He raised his head and even in the faint light of the candle she could see the naked hunger on his face.

She smiled and reached for him. "Come," she whispered. "Come into me."

With a groan, he raised himself above her and thrust hard into her body. The force of it was too much and she crested again with an intensity that was like a stab straight through her. Like being speared by pleasure.

Above her, Darcy hung his head and moaned, and she knew he felt her rippling around him. She gripped his shoulders and moved against him, and after only a handful of short, brutal thrusts, he stiffened with the force of his own release.

Afterwards, he lay atop her, pressed against her heart, as she floated in a hazy peace between sleeping and waking, the throb and pulse of pleasure still coursing through her.

"I love you," she whispered in the last moments, before sinking down into sleep.

 

Being bitten is to the crisp apple
what walking is to the ripe body, but it's more complicated than that:

the apple of the face has been given
to the running juice of the body

and the body, which is often gracious,
makes it shine.

Lucky apple.

 

Catie Rosemurgy, All Objects Reveal Something About the Body