Coarse language and sexual situations.
“Frank?” The pained expression on your face, as you fought to open your eyes, did not go unnoticed by him and he hurried to comfort you the best he could. Your head was resting on his forearm and he was kneeling, so you could get comfortable in his hold. It felt odd to him, in all honesty. Never before had he ever attempted such a menial task with a woman, and he was not sure the words could easily come out— even when he was dealing with you. He could only think of bringing you closer to him, if only to make you feel safe.
“Shh. It’s all over. It’s over now.” Frank saw the tears gleaming in your eyes, and how badly you wanted to cry, as you gave him a bittersweet smile. You could not hold back, however, and a sob escaped you before you started to choke on your words, burying your face on his chest.
It took a while before you had calmed down and were capable of any comprehensible speech, but all the while you were grabbing fistful of his clothes. You practically threw your arms around his waist and pressed yourself tightly against him, not caring about the grime on his garments or the smell of sweat and blood. Quite honestly, you could give a damn about it at that moment. After the nightmare you had been through for the past days, those arms felt the safest and most comforting place in the world. Even though this was not the circumstances you had dreamed of this happening, you were so damn happy to be with him.
“You’re here, Frank. You came for me.” You mumbled with a tearful smile, and he placed a hand on the side of your head.
“I told you that I’d come and get you, didn't I?” He barely could believe it that he had survived, that you were at long last reunited.
He noticed that you had been dressed in a flimsy white kimono-dress that provided little protection against the colder than hot weather, and you were shaking like a leaf in his hold. Your hair tickled his nose, and he noticed that the crown of white flowers on your head still was fresh and fragrant, just like you— an observation he could not help but make. Quite honestly, he did not want to think of you grooming for your own funeral but he was certain this had been the case. Either way, you were safe and sound and he was relieved that you had not gone through major and hideous detriments— or, at least, it did not look like you did. You surely had been mentally tormented by the Solarii Brotherhood but physically, he doubted it. Some way, Frank knew you would be spared from those kinds of tortures as long as you were the vessel for Himiko, since Friedrich wanted you unharmed for the trade. Even, the cuts and scratches on your skin he had seen the night of your disappearance had disappeared and he had to wonder if Himiko had anything to do with it.
"I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you had to go through all this because of me. I should have never opened my mouth. I should have never suggested that we come here. I don’t want to think what would have happened if I had lost you," you paused and fumbled with your words for a moment, too discomfited by certain thoughts in your head. "I don’t want to think about it.”
He had to chuckle at that, ready to collapse on the ground with you on top of him. Here he had just saved you from being the eternal puppet of an ancient Queen and you were worrying about him. Well, he had to give you credit, at least. It would not make him feel like an idiot if he were to admit that he had fallen for you, now. Still, he knew that regardless of the feelings between you and him he would have gone after you— it was his job, after all— but there was something strange about the whole commitment that gave him strength to keep going; the strength to reach the end of this journey.
“What you talking about?” He shook his head, trying to suppress a smile that plastered itself on his lips. “This is what you pay me for, isn't it?”
There was a brief pause on your part, as you tried to take in his words. “I know but, last time I checked, it was a job that didn't involve Chaman Queens seeking to reincarnate, even after thousands of years, neither religious fanatics nor super warriors.” You took a breath, and sighed in defeat when he remained oblivious to your point— or pretending to. “You could have died, Frank, and it would have been my fault. I told you to leave me and save yourself and the rest.”
“You think I could've lived knowing I left you behind?” Woods rolled his eyes and averted his gaze from yours, watching the storm dissipate in the skies. He could have compared the whole scene with a cheap happily ever after, from thousands of movies he had watched. However, there was something almost faultless in the way the clouds gave way to the warm Sun that greeted those lands, and a feeling of freedom could be felt in the very air he breathed in. It was certainly a most renewing sensation that bathed him in relief, and hope, as your breathing caressed his neck. It was almost redeeming, if he dared say so. “I couldn't just do that.”
“Because I pay you for that, right?” He felt the disappointment in your voice and hurried to meet your dejected stare. If only you knew; if only he would have the courage to admit it, it would all be so much simpler. But nothing in life could be free of complications, now could it? He was very tempted to lie and tell you that, yes, he did it because it was his job— his duty. He could have lied and embraced his old life of lonely nights and ephemeral passion. He could have done that, but he had not gone through hell just so he could condemn himself to wander in the desert of desire, never to find solace and to suffer with the mirage of your promise.
He realized he could not wait any longer; he realized just the immensity of the feat he had accomplished— that you both had accomplished. You were alive after a never-ending path of trials and danger. At the end of the journey, it had been you the one who rejoiced in his victorious arrival. He wanted to stand at the edge of the cliff at the temple and be free just once. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs and let the world know that he was the one who made it; the one who cheated Death again and again and won the game. But he was content in leaning his forehead against yours in the silence that had suddenly taken over, the sound of the wind the only whisper you could hear in the loneliness that surrounded you. He saw your lips parting just barely in silent question, your eyelids closing, even before you could notice, and your shallow breathing when the gap between you and him grew shorter and shorter.
Your body knew what would happen but your brain could still not process it. In fact, you could not say a word; you were too shocked to even ask why. It felt like an eternity, like walking on thin air in a dream— thrilling but always fearing the imminent downfall. He could not be doing this— he could not actually be kissing you, or could he? It was so unlike him to do something like this and you barely could wrap your mind around the idea. Perhaps, you had been all mouth and no action since you had never truly expected he could take you seriously. At least, not a man like him.
For a moment, he looked like a kid who had been caught with his hand inside the cookie jar so he parted from you in shame and apologized. “We should get going. We still need to find the others. I hope they’re still alive.”
At that moment, you realized that you had never kissed back and you hurried to stop him before he got on his feet. Softly, you grabbed his arm and he looked at you, sideways, reluctantly allowing himself to be held back by you even when he knew better. His blue eyes were piercing and impatient as they darted back and fro, finally settling on your curious and longing gaze. You stared at each other for a long time, as if trying to figure what the other was thinking and, without a word, you approached him with gentle movements, brushing your lips against his to test his reaction. It was a timid kiss, one could say, but it was the encouragement you needed to fall into his arms and share the unspoken words neither of you could find to express.
He did not push you away and so you deepened the kiss, trying to get more of him as your fingers softly scraped his back. There was a silent plea in his lips, and you confided your wishes with the same vehemence he had begun to convey, as your touches grew more heated and full of need.
It was not long before you were trapped against the ground and his body, his mouth attacking yours as his hands desperately yanked the hem of your dress up. Neither of you could wait anymore and, when his prickly kisses were under the roundness of your breasts, you celebrated it with a mewl of praise, unable to bear the delicious torture for much longer.
It seemed almost illogical, ridiculous, to do this after you had nearly died but this scorching fire burned within you. It overpowered you all of a sudden, bringing you into a state of psychic dissociation. You did not know who you were anymore, did not know what the limit between reality and reverie was, only that you longed that union, completion, of which Himiko had spoken of in that limbo of lonely coldness when you and her were connected.
Frank still dared not touch you, despite his evident yearning. He dared not for fear of soiling you since, in his head, you looked so pure and beautiful and he was not worthy of having you— he did not feel worthy. He almost backed off but, then, you grabbed his shoulders and held him in, fingers working on getting rid of his t-shirt in a haste. Before long, it was tossed to the side and the feeling of his bare skin against your hands made you whimper in delight, as this strange sensation grew stronger and overwhelming. You cared not about the circumstances anymore. You cared not if this was not about to happen in a luxurious bedroom with a king sized bed and, instead, in an abandoned temple at the top of a forgotten mountain. You knew you wanted him, desperately. You needed him with the ruthless hunger of a soul that had been deprived from such joy for a long time.
You grabbed fistfuls of his hair and, as if it had a mind of its own, your body arched when his tongue stroked and caressed without warning. Your mind still could not register what was happening, too taken aback by the devastating sensations that robbed you of all ability to think. It was not sweet; it was not gentle. It was full of primal abandon as you spread your legs further apart and his fingers buried on the skin on your hips— as you raised them closer to his face and cried your bliss to the skies. It was anything but nice as his rough tongue slid against your tender flesh and his stubble scratched your soft skin but, for some reason, you still found yourself moving against him, desirous to reach the peak of ultimate release. Your insides ached, begged, and your voice was lost the moment you felt yourself falling over the edge, dying and reviving again to see the sky of his eyes staring into your hazed and lost gaze.
Slowly, you lifted your hands to his face and curiously traced its contour with your fingers until you reached his mouth. He remained silent, observing your flushed face, as you smiled ever so slightly and closed your eyes for a moment to gather your disarrayed thoughts. Meanwhile, Frank unceremoniously collapsed on his back, bringing you on top of his body. With a sigh of satisfaction, you pulled down your robes and happily settled your head on his shoulder, finding comfort with him as the Sun warmed up your bodies. You did not know for how long you had lain trying to get some fitful rest but, as your naked leg rubbed against his, you blurted those raw words out without any warning, unable to stop yourself.