A/N: Well, here's my first (late!) entry to this year's Jerza Love Fest. It refers to yesterday's prompt - Lust.
I cannot believe how corny this turned out... apologies in advance.
Sometimes, she would dream that things were back how they used to be. Before he became solid to her. Before he had stayed.
In her mind, he had been like smoke before – visible and yet impossible to grasp. Clear to see and yet doomed to fade. He could she hope to hold on to him in that form?
So, in the night, every once in a while, she would dream that there was a new threat or that the previous ones turned out to not be really gone. That someone came to take him away or that he left if his own volition. That he had never really stayed and the past year had been a trick from her wanting heart – an illusion made by her own lust. One way or the other, she was alone all over again – left behind waiting for the smoke to become solid.
And then, she'd wake up… the tricks of her mind would fade and memories would become clearer. She would open her eyes and look at the ceiling for a moment, hesitation before she was to check if he was there, by her side as he should be.
Sometimes, he wasn't, being briefly away on some job that had extended past one day, and for a second, she would doubt herself, then move on to look for proof of his continued presence in the smell of his pillow, his clothes in the closet or the pictures of them in the hall. Those wouldn't quite settle her on their own and she'd be a little on edge until she'd see him walk into the house, looking equal parts tired and happy to have somewhere he could call home to go back to.
Other times he'd be right there, lying by her side lost in sleep. Solid. Warm. Graspable. Those were the best times… and Erza was glad that night was one of those.
Her hand reached for his face, needing to feel him, brushing his face, tracing his tattoo and feeling a hint of stubble already growing on his cheeks. He didn't react, relaxed in his sleep in a way that he only did while slumbering next to her.
It wasn't enough. The sight of him… the feel of him. Maybe it was selfish of her to wake him from such sweet slumber, but she needed more. More proof of his presence. More evidence of his solidity. Just… more. Something bubbled inside of her – a sort of need… desperate want.
She brought her face closer to him, her lips meeting his own, first softly and then more demandingly as he started to respond, even in his sleep… or rather in the midst of his path from sleep to wakefulness.
By the time he actually opened his eyes, there was a curtain of dark red around him and her weight right on top of his body. She was already astride him, her mouth demanding attention from his, and he couldn't help but respond eagerly, even if he felt rather confused.
After a couple of minutes of incessant kissing, he reached the conclusion that he most likely wasn't going to get an answer out of her unless he pushed for it and he couldn't help but grow concerned about what her sudden mood might be about. Was she upset? In need of comfort? He had a feeling that might be it. So, unwilling to keep walking on the dark, he let his hands move down her body until they reached the sides of her waist, giving them the slightest push upwards, not in an attempt to actually move her, but instead just to let her know that he needed a moment.
She got the message, her lips parting from his before she pulled away, sitting back on his thighs. The room was dark aside from the moonlight coming from outside the window – it wasn't enough for him to see the flush of her cheeks but it certainly illuminated the intensity of her gaze. The lust of it.
"Erza… what's wrong?" he asked quietly.
She didn't answer at first – instead, her hands moved to grasp the hem of her nightshirt and then pull it over her head. She had no bra underneath, only her panties, which left her mostly exposed to him at that moment.
"I need you," was all she said.
And he really didn't need another word. Taking a deep breath, he reached for her hips, securing them carefully as he moved to sit up as well. Then, as she remained in his lap, he pulled his own shirt off, throwing it carelessly on the floor, their eyes meeting intensely before he reached for the side of her face, brushing a loose lock of silk-soft hair to behind her ear.
"You always have me," he reassured her softly. "Always."
Her gaze on him softened lovingly. "Show me," she whispered.
And so, show her he did. Slowly. Languidly. His kisses didn't start on the obvious place – her lips – but traveled a path from on her forehead, moving down across the side of her face, brushing her temple, her cheekbone, her nose, all before reaching the main destination. All the while, she practically melted like butter under his lips. For once, she didn't seem in a hurry and he was given the chance to worship her like the goddess he perceived her as.
They stayed like that for a long time, embraced in their kiss, tongues dancing lazily, hands caressing freely and pushing their remaining clothing out of the way. By the time Jellal gently pushed her onto the mattress, there wasn't a stitch of clothing separating them and so, faced with her wandrous, naked glory, he got the urge to kiss her all over. Which he did. Repeatedly.
She was back on top when their bodies joined as one. Not moving frantically and impatiently as was her usual practice, but instead going slowly, steadily, savoring every moment in which she could feel him. So solid. So real. So hers – all hers.
Afterwards, they lay quietly in the dark, her body covering most of his. His hand was engulfed in her hair – it always ended up there, one way of the other, after their lovemaking – caressing her scalp softly, in a way that made her sleepy.
"You never told me what this sudden lust was about," he said absently. "Not that I'm complaining."
"I had a dream," she said, her eyes closed as she rested on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "You weren't here."
"Oh," he mumbled softly. "Well, I am here now. In reality. I'm not going anywhere… well, not for very long, anyway."
She smiled, reaching to place a lazy kiss on his skin. "I know. I'm glad you're not."
He seemed to share the feeling and placed a kiss at the top of her hair before pulling the covers on top of her and stroking her hair until she fell asleep, that time dreamlessly.
But it wouldn't stay that way. Years would pass, but the dreams wouldn't go away. They would become fewer, however, and far in between. And once she'd wake up from them, she would have less doubts because, if not anything else, unbeknown to her, that night's reassurance had left her with a little more she had bargained for – something that would, one day, develop into a tiny little redhead sleeping in the room next-door: the ultimate proof that Jellal Fernandes was no longer intangible smoke, but rather a presence solid as a rock.
Nothing would change that – not as long as she had a say about it.