Tom Hardy Character Imagines

Strangers (Part Four)- James Delaney x OFC (NSFW)

"Do you love me, James?"

Standing in the doorway of the nursery, Ariadne saw the slight furrow of his brow- the only indication that he had heard her- as the full moon outside managed to cast a glow upon him and the baby of four months he cradled against his bare chest that was somehow still so dark. The baby, Freya, was trying her hardest to keep her eyes open and staring at her father but her lids were growing heavy. The synchronisation of James' quiet murmurings in twi and the gentle rubbing of his hand against her tiny back had her asleep almost within minutes. Minutes that felt like hours as Ariadne awaited an answer from her husband.

James stood and lay Freya in the crib that had once belonged to her sister; the crib he had made with his own two hands, carving symbols of protection all around it, and let his hand linger against her chest for a moment before he moved to the bed where his oldest child, Winona, lay fast asleep with her thumb in her mouth and drool dribbling down her chin. At only four, she was still so small yet she had the wisdom of one much older. It both delighted and terrified him equally. Straightening up the quilt over her body, James bent down to kiss her sweaty temple and then left the room, brushing past Ariadne without so much as a single word.

She stood there for a moment; confusion gnawing at stomach and hurt stabbing at her chest. With silent thoughts of love sent to her children, she turned and followed James' footsteps back down the hall and into their bedroom where he was already lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling with an unreadable expression on his face.

Climbing into bed hesitantly, she knew that James would feel the tremble of emotions coursing through her body and she lay on her side facing away from him, too afraid to look at him. She wasn't afraid he would hurt her. Not physically, at least. She was afraid he would hurt her heart though, and if that made her a coward then so be it.

"You ask a question yet you can not even look at me while you await the answer," he murmured finally, his husky voice cutting through the tension in the air like a knife.

"You have to think about whether or not you love me?" Ariadne whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

The bedsheets rustled as James turned onto his side and she tensed when she felt his hand running up her nightdress, skating up her thigh with a feather light touch. Over her hip he went and up her waist where his fingers finally trailed over her breasts to her shoulders before stopping to trace the sankofa on her shoulder. Pulling down the sleeve of the garment until the mark was revealed, he pressed his lips to the scarred skin.

"You know how I feel about you," he murmured, his warm breath and scratchy beard bringing her out in goosebumps despite the warmth of the night.

"You've never said it," she bit her lip, desperate not to cry and desperate not to moan at the feelings he was awakening in her. "Not once."

"Oh, but I do," his fingers danced against her naked centre, drawing forth her moisture in order to tease her better. "Perhaps I do not say it in words, but I do say it."

"James," she groaned, gripping hold of his hand in a vain attempt to pull it away even as her hips writhed desperately for his touch. "Please."

His hands were all over her, inside of her; his lips whispered words against her skin that made no sense. Her nightdress disappeared, landing on the floor somewhere, while James' mouth lapped at her breasts, tasting the sweetness of the milk meant for his child before continuing its journey south to her still slightly rounded stomach, peppered with marks that spoke of the lives she had carried. Finally, his tongue anchored itself inside of her, feasting on her nectar like a man starved; licking, sucking, nipping while his fingers worked in unison until his beard was drenched with her release.

Sitting up, he pulled her onto his lap, kissing her hard; his tongue plunging into her mouth at the same time as his cock slid inside of her wet cunt. Their bodies were moulded together, writhing desperately as teeth clashed and hands clawed. James suckled at her breasts, his teeth scraping over her hard nipples and bringing tears to her eyes, and he marred the pale skin of her flesh along her neckline.

Now all will see the love I have for you when you are unable to hide my marks upon you. Just as they see it when I watch you with our children, and as they surely see it when I seek you out no matter where we are or who we are with. Your presence, your closeness, no matter the circumstance, soothes my soul and my love for you is hotter than the African sun that once burned my flesh as I lay dying.

Reaching for her throat, his fingers were bruising around her soft skin as his hips thrust up hard, over and over, his abdomen grazing over the swollen bud that brought her to pleasure again while his grip upon her only tightened until she was clawing at his hand desperately. But it was only when he had spilled himself inside of her, closing his eyes and lifting his face towards the skies he imagined above the ceiling of their bedroom, that his hand loosened and she collapsed against his chest, panting as heavily as he was while his arms wound themselves around her body, clutching her to him.

And in the still of the night, as the rest of the house slept, Ariadne's eyes were growing heavy as James rubbed slow circles against her back; just as he had done to their daughter. It was only when her breathing grew steady that he lay her down and brushed her hair back from her face gently. Kissing her lips softly, he pulled back as his eyes gazed upon her with an adoration that often felt unfamiliar even after almost six years of loving her. Because he did love her.

"medɔ wo," he murmured, laying down beside her and humming contentedly when she curled up against him in her slumber, laying her head upon his chest. "medɔ wo"