Big news, big night: The morning (is it?) after

[newredmuses]

Did he sleep at all last night? He may have tried, long after he and Kate had exhausted themselves with talking and crying and laughing. It's hard to say too, when he first noticed that he was lying awake, watching the light in the room change. (Of course, he'd been told, that there isn't sunlight here, as such, but the facsimile is fine enough.)

The scar in his side tells him he is dead, but in faith, lying here beside his wife, his own Kate, he feels nothing of the sort.

Now, is she sleeping still? He slides closer, and plants a kiss just so on her bare shoulder.

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[valiantrebel]

By heaven, look at that! Harry guides himself in and ah, mercy, such sweetness! He steadies himself above her and starts to rock, not neglecting the swath of skin she's left open at her throat.

[tiltingwithlips]

Her eyes flutter shut for a moment as she lets the sensations build: friction and heat and wetness where they're joined, the pressure and weight of him over her, his breath and heartbeat on her skin.

She can't not touch him. She wraps her arms over his back and smooths her palm over his spine.

[valiantrebel]

And now he has lost any pretense of planning or plotting; every movement is an instantaneous reaction to touch, impulse, wants. The rhythm emerges quick enough, but his mouth, his hands, the voice within him, all each part wants is Kate.

[tiltingwithlips]

Remember that time when she was taking God's name in vain a little while ago?

That was a good time. Time to revisit it.

She digs her nails into his back and whimpers. "God in heaven, Harry."

[valiantrebel]

He slips a hand under the curve of her spine and lifts her closer. "Two people in the room," he gasps, "not three. Oh, my lady."

Remember when they were being quiet earlier? The opposite of that is happening right now.

[tiltingwithlips]

"Love," she gasps, hiking her legs higher around his waist. "Harry, there, yes."

[valiantrebel]

He's down to wordless exclamations at this point, but he may still take orders with the sense at his command. He grips her hair and presses his forehead into her shoulder, until he draws a deep breath and kisses her, messily.

[tiltingwithlips]

He's perfect. He's warm and solid and as alive as she has ever known him, and he's hers.

[valiantrebel]

He'll promise it a hundred thousand times over, in as many ways as there are worlds. The fact of their two bodies in this bed is miracle enough.

He opens his eyes; they're wide with adrenaline, and urgency. "Kate." How close is she?

[tiltingwithlips]

God above, she loves it when he says her name like that.

"Harry?"

She knows well enough what he's asking, though. She cants her hips just so and bites her lip.

[valiantrebel]

"Heh." He shakes his head. "Ah me."

There's no coming down from this, once he starts. There's nothing so glorious as this feeling, though, and he would not end it, were the ending of it not so good.

Another noise escapes him, and her name.

[tiltingwithlips]

"Ah, lord--" She tosses her head back. "Slower, just there."

[valiantrebel]

"A feat of great willpower... but for my lady, I'll endeavor."

[tiltingwithlips]

Shuddering, she tangles a hand in his hair and kisses him, hard and hungry.

[valiantrebel]

And he meets her with equal fervor. One hand splays out over the bottom of her ribcage, half bone and half softness, and his fingers dig in over both. "Now, Kate?" he growls against her lips. He will ask again until they are satisfied.

[tiltingwithlips]

She cries out, bucking underneath him.

"Love, yes!"

[valiantrebel]

And when he lets go, the world shrinks down to two souls on a bed, and it lasts.

[tiltingwithlips]

She follows him, a few moments later. For she told the truth, earlier: what else can she do, but follow her lord where he leads?

(A question for another time.)

By the time they shudder and rock to a standstill together, Harry's back is scratched and Kate's hair is no doubt tangled.

[valiantrebel]

He has made a dreadful mess of her hair, for which he must needs be forgiven. He notes her marks on him as he rolls off her and lies panting beside her.

The light in the room is rich and golden; a beautiful morning at the end of the universe. He stares up at the ceiling, brow knitted. He thought.

Well.

He shifts onto one side and catches Kate's eye, though he neither remarks on their exertions nor moves to touch her again. Watching will content him, in this moment.

[tiltingwithlips]

Nuh-uh. Nope. Watching is for other people. Kate will be snuggling him now, and will brook no argument.

Now get over here and be a pillow for your wife, Harry Percy.

[valiantrebel]

...if the lady insists, he may be cajoled and coerced, with some loud complaints for punctuation.

He offers up an arm, and all the room on his chest -- will that do?

[tiltingwithlips]

Perfectly! It's a lovely chest. His generosity is much appreciated.

She curls one arm between them, her knuckles brushing his skin, and throws the other over his waist, and very contented is she.

[valiantrebel]

What's his is hers and all that, of course.

The arm in question he wraps around her shoulders, and with the other he rests his hand on hers (though he will soon begin skimming his fingertips over her skin, perhaps beginning an endless and improvised game of cat's-cradle with her fingers).

It's just that he never thought he'd get to do this again.

And also they're going to have a baby.

[tiltingwithlips]

Speaking of which:

"We're to have a child, Harry," Kate murmurs.

This is still sort of . . . stunning?

[valiantrebel]

"I had just remembered that myself," he murmurs back, also a little bit... bowled over by the fact.

How does one say "I hope my father succeeds in his rebellion so he can come home and see my baby?" in an off-the-cuff sort of way?