Chapter 138 138. Coming Together
Chapter 138 138. Coming Together
Isolde motioned for Drake to follow her out of the Wraith meeting; not only did they need to talk and plan how she was supposed to get a creature, but she wanted to tell him about the fear she saw on Malachi. She wanted him to know that their leader was actually scared.
She grabbed his hand, and the two of them walked to their room, closing the door behind them. "First we should shower." She said, looking right at him. "You go first, I'll go after you," Drake said, and Isolde frowned. It suddenly became very clear they had not been intimate in over a year.
For a year she lay in a coma, and since she woke up, all she received from Drake was soft kisses, hand-holding, and offering her his arm. "Drake, shower with me; after all, we used to do that all the time." She said, smiling softly at him. "Isolde, it is fine; just shower. I will go after you." He said, tilting her head, trying to think what was holding him back.
"Drake, what is wrong? Why not save time and shower with me? Besides, you're better at getting my back than I am." That was the truth, but the fear that he thought her back was somehow gross worried her. She already had a glass eye; was her back being marked up too much for him? Suddenly she felt a huge wave of insecurity in her appearance.
Maybe now she worried she was not attractive. Her white hair wasn't long anymore, and while she still had soft curves, they were more subdued from months in a bed. "Am I?" Isolde was trying to ask if she was unattractive now but was having a hard time finding the words without sounding pathetic. "What?" He asked.
"Drake, are you not attracted to me now? Is that what this is?" She said, and it made her skin crawl, being this self-loathing. She had risen from that, but to ask made her feel dirty in a way she didn't quite understand. "What? NO! Fuck no, that is not it; you're still recovering, and then today was rough, and I just don't want to push you." He said, his face all embarrassed and red.
Isolde came up to him and took his face in her small, pale, soft hands. It made him look at her. "Drake, listen to me carefully. I am fine. I have tonics that have restored my muscles and the atrophy. I also have been able to wield dark craft just fine. The thing I like is endurance to run all over the place and keep pace with your insane pace. So if I say I can handle something, you should trust I know myself, and a fucking shower with you is not going to have me panting like I ran 20 miles or something."
He was staring at her. "And if we somehow take a romp in the shower and then our bed." Isolde smiled, saying that, but continued, "I will tell you if it's too much. I know my limits, and you have to trust I will tell you those. But you can't push me away because that makes me feel like horse shit." She said, and he looked at her.
Isolde could see his embarrassment turn to ease on his face, then acceptance, and then there was a hunger there. One she hadn't realized she missed. His mouth was on her; his hands grabbed her small waist and pulled her to him.
Isolde loved the feeling of his hands on her. He hadn't grabbed her like this in what seemed like ages. Drake was grabbing her hips, her ass groaning like a starved animal. Her dress was ripped; she could hear the fabric tearing. Her small hands worked to get his clothes out.
There was no going to be a shower; Drake was hard and pushing into her core. His hands slipped between the two of them to feel her slick heat. "Fuck love, so wet for me." He growled into her neck; his mouth worked down, pulling her breasts into his mouth and feeling her core that he missed so much.
Isolde's hands ran across his back, feeling his muscles much more defined than she had remembered. His large hands grabbed her thighs, hoisting her up so he could slide into her. It was euphoric feeling him inside her. "So good," He groaned. "Missed you so much." He said, thrusting into her. Their mouths came together as their bodies collided.
The two of them moved to the floor, not bothering to make it to their bed. The adrenaline from the day, the distance of her being in a coma for a year, faded, turning the two into a frenzy of bodies and limbs. "Fuck love, I'm not going to last." Drake groaned. Then, with the time and distance they had faced, he pumped into her, spilling into her.
Wanting Isolde to be as satisfied as he was, his fingers worked the bundle of nerves that always brought her to seeing stars, and she cried out with him still inside her and all her muscles tightened. Her back arched, her chest pushed up as if she was possessed. It was all-consuming and rather frantic as she climaxed around his cock that was still shooting off inside her.
They lay in a mess of naked limbs and ripped clothing on their bedroom floor. Isolde was panting, and Drake lay on top of her, not having any desire to remove himself from her body. They looked at one another, and laughter poured from their lips. They had been more like horny teenagers instead of a pair that was married and had a prophetic bond. It was funny, and for the first time in a long time they laughed and laughed.
"We are fucking nuts," Drake said, making Isolde laugh. "Yes, just a war blooming; old, supposed-to-be-extinct creatures are running rampant." She and Drake howled with laughter, he added. "Yep, and Nexus, our government wants us in custody." A new round of laughter ran out. "Wait, wait, I got it." Isolde got out between her laughter. "The world has gone to shit, and we are fucking on the floor, and there is a bed right there." She pointed at it. And they laughed.
The laughter died after many minutes, the two of them looking at the absurdity they had been thrust into. It was amusing, but as the laughter died down, reality settled back in, and they knew things would be very challenging over the next several months. They didn't even know if they would survive it. They were in war; the keepers wanted Isolde, if not Drake too, and creatures were running amok.