Author: Miss Late Bloomer PM
After Evy is brought back from the dead, the family returns to London, and two lovers deal with the aftermath of the ordeal with passion and assurances. Will the O'Connell couple get a second miracle? Rated M for a reason, folks. Reviews would be great!Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Family - Evelyn C. & OíConnell, R. - Words: 4,291 - Reviews: 12 - Favs: 72 - Follows: 8 - Published: 10-20-09 - Status: Complete - id: 5455495
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This story demanded to be written, and I was so grateful to my muse for coming back to me, I humbly obeyed. Definitely not as much humor as you might be used to from me, but it didn't really fit with this story. Yeah, it's smutty, (so you've been warned) but I don't think it's shameless smut, I was actually going for a little introspection on Evy's part. I definitely intend to do one more chapter, maybe two. Feedback as always is highly encouraged, as it helps me write.
One a weird note, I made a discovery. The movie dates don't really match up. According to the first Mummy, Rick and Evy met in 1926. The second movie starts in 1933, 7 years later. Okay, fine, but even assuming Evy and Rick conceived Alex right away, that would make him six and some odd months. Again, fine, but Alex clearly states he's eight years old. So, I'm going to run with the assumption that the Rick and Evy have been married nine years, (and one of the villians agreed with me) no matter what the movies dates say. All right, folks, have at it!
Evy knew her husband, could read him as well as she could ever read a book. She'd spent 9 years learning him, sharing her life with him. In that time, she'd grown from a shy if spunky girl on the road to becoming a spinster to a fulfilled wife and mother familiar with adventure, and he had drawn that out. In her way, she supposed she'd softened him, taught him how to trust, how to express his natural capacity for love. Just as the prim librarian still lived in her, the brash gunfighter still lived in him, they'd just been improved. And now he needed her, needed reassurance after the awful shock he'd suffered.
For her, dying hadn't been much of an ordeal, almost a holiday really. The knife had felt more like a punch, and then she'd been too numb to feel much pain. Everything had slowly faded to dark, with Rick's voice in her ears. Then she'd floated away, floated into a bliss that she could not describe in any language she'd known, but it was beyond anything she had experienced on an earthly plane. There was light, yes, an abundance of white light, and she could hear the voices of loved ones long since departed, could hear her parents, and her grandparents. She could actually feel their love, their joy.
She understood, her spirit surrounded by those she'd said goodbye to in life that she'd never really lost them. Everything and everyone was connected to each other. They had always remained a part of her, just as she would always be a part of Rick and Alex. Death was not an ending, merely a transformation that truly couldn't be understood by the mortal mind.
Then she'd heard Alex, speaking in Ancient Egyptian. A powerful suction ripped her from the white cocoon, and she'd felt an intense sorrow, but also a sense of rightness. It hadn't been her time somehow, this would all be waiting for again, she felt. Her family needed her, ties that could not be broken were calling her home. She was not saying goodbye to her parents or grandparents, they would be with her always.
She felt precious little hands on her face, trying to move her. She opened unwilling eyes, her body feeling as though it were incased in granite. "Mum! Mum!" he whispered frantically into her ear. It took all her strength, but she wrapped her arms around him, and she felt him strong and safe against her. "Thought you were done for," he whimpered.
"I'm with you, Alex," she'd whispered to him. "I'm with you, always." And now she was back in her London home, surrounded by her familiar belongings and furniture. They'd arrived back in England this morning. Egypt seemed so far away, and for once, she was glad to be so far away from it. She'd always taken pride in the heritage of her mother, taking the Englishwoman inside her for granted. Now she realized that British soil was as dear to her as Egypt's. She vowed never to take anything for granted again.
Just as she wouldn't take her family for granted. Alex and Jonathan were bickering good naturedly, an eight year old getting the best of a grown man, it was bloody priceless. She eased into the parlor, setting her things down, and Rick's eyes were on her, studying her every movement. To the casual observer, his face would give away nothing, but she understood the look in his eyes.
Evy felt a thrill race up her spine, shivering with anticipation. How long had it been since she'd had intercourse with her husband, felt his naked body over and under hers? Too long, much too long, for weeks they'd been surviving on kisses and chaste touches. The nightmare of Alex being snatched had consumed them, leaving room for nothing else. Before that, Evy had been obsessed by her visions and dreams, which had turned out to be memories of a previous life.
"You look like you need a lie-down," she told her husband briskly, absently ruffling her son's hair as she spoke before letting her hand drop to her side. He seemed to welcome her displays of affection, where before he would have made a fuss, protesting he was too old for that little kid rubbish.
"Yeah, I could use one of those," Rick agreed, and something in his tone had moisture pooling between her legs. Ah, so he knew what her game was. "You look tuckered out yourself, honey. Why don't you join me?"
"Ah, excellent!" Jonathan decreed, rubbing his hands together. "Leaves us to our own devices, eh Alex?"
"Yeah, Uncle Jon," Alex agreed half-heartedly, obviously not certain whether he wanted to lose sight of his mother. Evy could see her son wanted to be as strong as his father, but he was still a child, and a child that had almost lost his mother forever. It was natural he'd be anxious where she was concerned.
"Jonathan, whatever you're thinking, don't," Rick said shortly, but he was watching his son.
"You don't trust me," Jonathan exclaimed, and said something else, but Evy was barely listening.
"Not even a little bit," Rick agreed conversationally.
Evy knelt down next to her son, touching his cheek. "It's all right, Alex, your dad I just need a little while to ourselves. We'll be down in time for supper and to make sure uncle Jonathan doesn't make a pig of himself."
"Well, that's just uncalled for," Jonathan muttered, gesturing at his nephew. "He has worse table manners than I do."
"That might work if you were eight," Rick retorted.
Reluctantly, Alex nodded. "You'll be just be upstairs, then?"
"Trust me, we aren't going anywhere," Rick told him, staring right into the boy's eyes. Seeing her son was appeased, Evy got to her feet, Rick beside her, heaving their luggage up, as was custom. He barely seemed bothered by the effort, still so capable and strong, as much as ever. She felt tears sting her eyes, forever would never be enough with him. She glanced behind her, Alex and Jonathan settling down for a game of chess. Alex smiled bravely at her, and she knew it was all right to leave him.
Neither spoke a word as they walked upstairs, and down the hall to the bedroom, anticipation in the air. The minute their bedroom door was closed behind them, his hands were all over her, the luggage thudding to the ground. She moaned, the sound muffled because his mouth was pressed greedily against hers, sucking on her tongue, as though he couldn't get enough of her. As if her knees weren't weak enough, his hands were pressing against her bum, forcing himswlf between his legs, and she could feel his quickly rising erection against her mound. Wantonly, she rolled her hips, rubbing against him, becoming as desperate as him.
He broke the kiss roughly, licking and nipping at her neck, planting a trail of fire down from below her ear to her collarbone. At this rate, her knickers would be ruined. He knew how sensitive the flesh was there, how it made her ache, how it made her writhe. "Rick," she panted, her arms going around his neck, gripping his hair at his nape to pull in him for another kiss.
The kiss was open and wet, a little sloppy, but they were both beyond caring, and they kept at it until they both needed air. "Been too long," he gritted against her neck, resuming his torment, thrusting into her, forcing her to feel that delightful friction, but not allowing her to benefit from it.
"I...I k-know," she agreed, while she could still speak at all. "Need you, need you."
"Gonna fuck you." It wasn't often used such language, even in the bedroom, and wasn't often he possessed her roughly. Most often, Rick loved her with a tenderness and patience that surprised her. In the early days of their marriage, he'd been careful not to frighten her, to slowly introduce her to the world of sexual pleasure. The first time he'd lost control, she'd been stunned, at how much she enjoyed the more primitive aspect of sexual intercourse. And right now, she craved for him to do exactly as he wished, to not show restraint.
"As you wish," she whispered, her skin feeling tight and hot. She wanted these blasted clothes off, wanted him inside her, and they'd barely begun.
The next thing she knew he was tossing her, her body slicing through the air. She landed with her back on the mattress, Rick striding across the room. She only had time to kick off her shoes before he was on top of her, kissing her ruthlessly, smashing her thoughts to bits. His hands tangled in her skirt, pushing it to the waist, sliding upwards to rip away her knickers. Her hands were busy on his fly, taking his throbbing cock into her hand, a familiar weight. She squeezed it lovingly as she guided him to her damp entrance. She was so empty, and the craving to have him burn away the emptiness was eating her alive.
To her dismay, he nudged her hand away, his fingers delving into her pubic curls. Even in his impatience, he would never take her unless he was certain she was ready for him, even in this haze of lust he cared more for her pleasure. His touch was so exciting and familiar, but not nearly enough. She didn't want to find her satisfaction at his touch, it just wouldn't do today.
Then he was sliding down her body, and she didn't have time to protest before she felt his mouth sucking at her clit before his tongue plunged up into her, making her scream. Had she been more in control of her senses, she would have worried, oak paneling or not, that Jonathan and Alex would hear her. She pressed up against her husband's sinful mouth, out of her mind with stimulation for the way he worshipped her with his mouth.
Then, before she was even completely aware he'd stopped, he was once more positioned between her legs, and she wrapped her shaking legs around his waist, feeling his cock against her opening. She bucked upward, and he began to slip inside her. Her eyes rolled up into her head, on the verge of release already. Now it was her turn to grip his ass, to urge him deeper, desperate to come, biting at his neck.
Grunting, Rick slammed home, and her release rocked through her, bringing her to a more familiar sort of paradise. Rick didn't pause, but did exactly as he said, and fucked her body, prolonging and intensifying her satisfaction, her inner muscles squeezing him in return. The pace was almost brutal, and through the onslaught of pleasure, pain threatened, but it was a sweet pain. Greedy for more, Evy kept up with him, smashing her lips to his. He was more than willing to give into her. Her arms slipped up onto his back, nails digging in. She was blind and drunk with this violent bliss, and she was greedy for more.
It didn't last long, was never meant to. His lean hips plunged once, then twice into her, then he buried himself deep, groaning as he spent himself inside her. She whimpered, still unsatisfied, shifting and squeezing down on him to remind him she still needed his attention, feeling her clit throb.
Rick was in no condition to harden and start all over again, but he wearily shifted, his hand slipping down to massage her nub. She mewled in gratitude, arching up. He knew her so well, knew just how to stroke, and it wasn't long before that wave of ecstasy rolled through her again. It seemed to last forever, but finally, she went limp, her head thumping back against the pillows.
Rick rolled them over so she was on top, pressing loving kisses on her temples, cheeks and brow, his hand slipping away from between her legs, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him swipe it across something to remove her fluids. For the moment, they were sated, but it wouldn't last. They were too starved for each other, and the wild coupling was only the beginning.
They were certainly in quite a state. He was still fully dressed, boots and all, and her bare bum was sticking up in the air, her skirt shoved up to her waist, her stockings still on. She did enjoy the liberation of trousers, especially on their forays into Egypt, but she was glad she still wore dresses and skirts, they were much more convenient for moments like these. She grinned, rubbing her nose against his, and it reminded her of their first kiss, standing in the ruins of Hamunaptra, weary but hopeful of the future.
"I love you, Evy," he said against her mouth.
"I love you, too. Mmm, my darling." She felt aglow with love and the aftermath of sexual gratification. She felt him reluctantly end the kiss so he could look her in the eyes.
"Did I hurt you? I kind of went a little crazy there-"
"A little, but nothing I didn't enjoy immensely," she assured him quickly. "I'm not a frail flower, Rick. You know that."
He cupped her face, his eyes now burning into hers. "I can't lose you, got it?"
Sympathy and tenderness overwhelmed her. "As I told Alex, I'm with you, always."
"What, even if you die?" Unshed tears burned his voice. "That's not good enough."
"Shh, I know." She kissed him, plunging her tongue inside, exploring him, though she knew him so well. He was beginning to stir inside her, and she rolled her hips sensually, wanting to feel him hard and throbbing once again. She sat up, feeling the change of position, and humming a little.
She rocked against him a few times, squeezing hard, until she felt him completely aroused inside her. She just wanted to ride them both into oblivion, wanted this so badly. But she also wanted to do this properly, wanted them to both to wring every ounce of pleasure out of the encounter as possible. So lifted herself off him, hissing from a sense of loss.
"You're killin' me," she heard him say.
"Not hardly," she answered cheekily. Slowly, trying to be seductive, she unbuttoned her bodice, until the material gave and pooled at her waist. He pushed it up, and she leaned down, so he could lift it over her head. She rolled off him completely, on to her back beside him. She reached down, lifting her leg high in the air, and inched her stocking down as Rick rolled to his side, watching every moment of her show. She tossed the stocking playfully at him, and then started on the other leg. She had discovered long ago that playing the temptress in bed was a delight to both of them.
When she was done, Rick reached for her, but she evaded him. "Lay back," she commanded with the same tone she might have used as a princess of Egypt. Rick swallowed audibly, and obeyed, her willing slave if only for the moment. "You're overdressed, Mr. O'Connell. It simply won't do."
"As you should be." Enjoying this game, she raked her nails up his clothed chest, casually ripping the first button away. "It's very rude of you, but you have...other qualities." She leaned down, and licked away at his neck, feeling him shift restlessly against her. His hands clutched at her shoulders, but not hard enough to hurt. He was letting her have her fun, but eventually, his need to really touch her would win out.
One by one, she ripped away at the buttons, until his shirt fell open. He sat up enough to completely take it off, the ripped garment falling to the floor beside the bed. She mapped out his chest with her mouth, using her lips, tongue and teeth to tease the skin. "Sweet Jesus," he growled when her mouth found his stomach, her breast rubbing against his engorged, and still exposed manhood. He didn't like it very well when she sat up, his jaw clenched, eyes slightly glazed.
"Patience is a virtue," she chided, unable to resist. He just growled again, in no mood to banter. She unlaced his boots, and got rid of the nasty things, his socks going with them. Then she stripped him off his trousers, sliding off the bed and onto her feet. She admired her naked, aroused husband, feeling quite possessive. There might have been many women in his bed before her, but there would be none after her, thank you very much. And even if her most insecure moments, she knew no woman had ever touched his heart before her, no woman had ever really known him. That blessing belonged to her, and her alone.
"Evy?" Oh my, she could barely understand him.
"Yes, Rick?" She found the nerve to play it innocent.
"Get over here or I'll make you." Oooh, someone was feeling neglected. Well, she couldn't have that, now could she?
"If I must." On all fours, she crawled up the bed, watching his chest heave, moisture seeping out of the head of his cock. She straddled him, rubbing against his stomach for a moment, letting him feel how wet she was still was. She guided him to where they both wanted him to be. This time, he let her, and in one swift motion, she impaled herself upon him.
She shifted experimentally as she moved on him, trying for the right angle that would have him rubbing against her clit. When she found it, she threw back her head, moaning softly, eyes falling closed. He moved in time with her, slow and easy this time, every stroke as intense as a bolt of lightning. She shifted so he'd hit another spot, not wanting it to be over so soon.
She heard him, voice deep and rough: "So beautiful, God, so beautiful." His hands were on her breasts, stroking, his rough fingers careful. He knew he didn't like them roughly handled, they were too sensitive to pain for that. She returned the feeling, gently playing with his nipple as she lifted up as slowly as she could, feeling his erect cock slide inch by inch out of her, then sank back just as slowly, savoring this moment.
The animalistic noises Rick made were music to her ears, and she stared down at his face, contorted in the pleasure she was giving him. He never gave her a moment of doubt, never made her feel that she wasn't everything he'd ever wanted, in spite of his vast experience. His arms slid down from her breasts, down to her bum again. Her gave her a playful squeeze, she wriggled, shrieking at the bolt of sensation that occurred at the involuntary movement.
Blindly, she reached down, cupping his sac in her hand. She felt a shudder ripple through his body, and in one swift movement, she was under him again. He went still for a moment, and she cried out. The tension was building inside her, like a coil spring, and every second he was still was torture for both of them. He soothed her with a long kiss, holding her close. His mouth moved close to her ear, nibbling on the lobe in a way that drove her even more mad. "Hold on a second, baby, gonna make it good for you."
"Now...would....be...be...lovely," she barely managed.
He reached down, manipulating her clit until she was so very close, the tension building higher and higher, and then he stopped again. "Rick!" she wailed, a wail that ended on a gasp, because he'd began to move again, stealing sweet kisses between slow thrusts. After a few moments, she came again, when he lifted her leg over his hip. She held on tightly to her husband as she rode the sensations out, and somehow, bless his stamina, he kept the pace, his face buried in her hair, unable to get close enough to her.
She'd never wept during intimacies with her husband, but today she felt the tears roll down her cheeks, just as she felt him move inside her, coaxing her into fresh arousal, coaxing her to join in the fun. She wept because there could never be enough of this, there could never be enough time. Their hearts were beating as one, their bodies joined, and she felt as though their souls could touch. Rick simply kissed away her tears, comforting both of them even as they moved together, sweat glistening on their bodies in the noon light.
This time, after what could have been moments or hours, they came together, fingers linked, a perfect unity. Neither heard the other say each other's name, but that was all right. Rick collapsed to his side, taking Evy with him, so they were face to face. When she came back to herself and opened her eyes, he was staring at her, a wealth of love in those beautiful eyes. Rick had always said he'd never give her poetry, but he did, he just didn't know it. He traced sonnets on her skin, and he kissed verses into her soul. He would probably say something quite rude if she were to tell him so, but it was the truth.
He stroked a finger down her side, admiring her body, although not sexually. Although still relatively young and very virile, he wasn't that randy. "Yep, I married one hell of a looker," he said at length.
"Kind of you to say so," she said lightly. Then she smiled in earnest, almost bashful. "I never really felt beautiful before I met you. I never gave my appearance much thought."
"Well, I always thought you were gorgeous."
"Oh, really?" She arched an eyebrow, a memory surfacing in her mind. It had been quite appalling at the time, but now it was terribly amusing. Of course, as Jonathan had once said, she'd loosened her braids quite a bit since then. "I think your initial impression that I wasn't a...oh how did you put it...'a total loss?'"
"Okay, not my finest moment," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "If it makes you feel any better, I thought you were beautiful, I just wasn't going to say it."
She idly traced patterns on his chest. "Why not?"
"Don't know, probably had my reasons at the time." He yawned, settling down against the pillows. "Time for a nap, sweetheart."
"I wore you out, didn't I?" she asked with delight, twisting so she could lay her cheek against his slowing heartbeat.
"Well, I'm not as young as I used to be." He didn't look all that put out by his admission. He wrapped his arms to hold her against him, as he usually did. Rick O'Connell was a great one for snuggling, though he was hardly conscious of it. Perhaps it was because he had starved for affection before he knew her, and she grateful that she and Alex could give that to him.
"All right, my love, sleep now before supper. Jonathan will have to scrape something together for tea." She yawned, feeling exhaustion take hold of her. "I might be due for a nap myself."
"Wore you out, huh?" She would never admit she thought he was adorable when he was smug, the man would be simply impossible. Oh, well, she supposed she would have loved him anyway.
"Well, I'm not as young as I used to be," she quipped, a quiet chuckle her only response.
And so, husband and wife slept, wrapped in each other's arms, the scent of their lovemaking hanging in the air. For now, they were together. Maybe it could never be enough, but it was still a gift nonetheless.