Bride of Lazarus

7; The Big Night ***NSFW

The wedding goes about as smoothly as I imagined it would. Otto officiates. Peter and Paul interrupt the ceremony with toilet humor. Dad cries and poor mom ends up comforting him. And Lazarus... Gods, that man has a choke hold on my heart rate the entire time. I can hardly breathe beneath the weight of his emerald gaze. That look... He wasn't wearing it yesterday. I'm almost afraid when mom starts gathering her things and ushering the boys toward the buggy. This will be the first night we spend alone together. The first time a man has ever laid his hands on me...

I may be a bit sheltered, but I know what a man expects on the night of his wedding. Gods, I wish Aunt Georgia had spared me that detail when recounting her innumerable marriages. Believe it or not, I'm prepared to give the man what he wants. Petrified, but prepared. After all, it's why I was summoned here in the first place; the sole reason that I now call Lazarus my husband. In essence... I am a sex slave, I think. Here to please him until I provide a suitable heir to the family business. That could take years for all I know...

When the bedroom door closes, it's as though something in Lazarus changes. His emerald eyes have grown dark and curious, sneaking along the curves of my body. Gone is the mannerly giant whom I danced with moments ago at the reception. In his place stands a man with an appetite.

Lazarus kindly dims the lights at my request, but he doesn't turn them off. He says it dulls the experience. The fact that he even knows that makes me all the more anxious... How am I supposed to measure up to the centuries of lovers that he's had? I know nothing in this department! Then again, I'm told that the woman doesn't have to know more than how to lie down... That thought brings me some comfort. Not much, but some.

My breath hitches as Lazarus gently pulls me out of my corset. His strong hands turn my body toward him so that he can properly admire it. Then, he walks back until his legs hit the mattress and he sits. The look that comes over him makes me blush all over. "Beautiful," he utters. For a minute, I could almost swear he's blushing too. "Come here." Oh, Gods... Here goes nothing.

I give Lazarus what he wants, and then some. Mustering all the courage I can find, I smoothly slip out of my panties and into his lap. Soft, warm lips graze my neck. "You smell good," I sigh as he memorizes the curve of my bottom with both hands.

"Taste good, too," Lazarus rumbles against my skin. He certainly is smooth, I think. I'm getting wet already... With a gentle maneuver of the hips, he lies back and pulls himself free of his tightening trousers. My jaw falls slack at the sight of him. I've never been good with numbers so I won't bother guessing the exact inches... But I'll tell you this. The thing is nearly as big as my forearm. I cover my gaping mouth with both hands and Lazarus laughs devilishly. "It won't hurt for long," his silky voice assures me. "Do you think you can handle it, little rabbit?"

"I'm a big girl," I answer with an uncertain breath,"I'll be fine." Then, with a smug smile, he lifts my hips effortlessly and eases himself inside. The first thing I find myself thinking is Lazarus severely under exaggerated how much this would hurt. And the last: his moan is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. I try hard to shift my weight away from the thing but it seems to be everywhere all at once. My thighs grow weak from the battle and I finally relax my body against his. The whimper that escapes me makes him throb inside me.

"Ride it," he instructs. Then, I'm blushing all over again. Lazarus's powerful gaze makes his demand all the more demanding. I feel my face turn fifty shades of embarrassed in the blink of an eye. I'm a virgin, for Gods' sake! What does he expect of me?

"I've never done... This... before," I mumble, brushing my unruly curls back in angst. Lazarus laughs incisively and the butterflies in my stomach erupt.

"I saw you on the dance floor tonight," he says. "Roll your body, like you did at the reception." Cold, callous hands guide my hips back and forth until he earns a gasp that satisfies him. Then, he relinquishes control. "Just like that... Good." His piercing eyes survey me hungrily. I grind my hips downward with his gentle encouragement, eliciting a groan that twists my insides into a pretzel. "Fuck, that's good," he praises. His breathy voice rumbles like the engine of a classic car. His dark brows knit themselves together.

"Mm... Oh, gods..." My cheeks grow hot beneath Lazarus's lingering gaze. He revels in every whine and whimper, every quiver that he causes within my walls. I can feel him throbbing in the depths of my stomach as I pick up pace. "L-Lazarus," I stutter, stopping to wipe the sweat from my forehead.

"Z," he says. "I think you can call me Z, now."

"Z," I repeat.

"Mm."

"Am I... A-are you going to..." Gah, I can't say it. Why can't I say it? It can't possibly be more embarrassing than being naked. Before I can gather my thoughts, Z flips me beneath him and they escape me all together.

"Am I going to make you a mother?" With a sneaking grin, he finishes my question. Then, he answers it with a warm palm against my stomach. "That was part of the deal, little rabbit." Lazarus thrusts slowly as he speaks, every inch of him making my eyes roll a little further into the back of my head. His soft groans turn me to mush beneath him. "You owe me an heir," he utters, "and I intend to collect. No matter how long it takes." Gods, I had almost forgotten that part. What if I don't get pregnant? What if the first child we have is a girl? What if--- That's as far as I get before the fire in my stomach grows too hot to ignore. Z brushes his thumbs over my nipples and my body simply cannot hold up to the torment any longer.

"Oh gods, don't stop," I whimper. "Please, I'm so close." With sweat in his brow, Z buries himself as deeply within me as his hips will allow. Then, we're polluting the air of the entire top floor with the echoes of ecstasy. Pure and powerful. It never feels like this when I'm alone, I think. The wet warmth that Lazarus coats the inside of my abdomen with tells me that I've done my job well.

"Fuck, Fae," he praises breathlessly, collapsing beside me on the mattress. "I think I might be falling in love with you."