Fit Together Like a Puzzle Who: Marisa and Owen Where: Owen's House When: Evening Warning: NSFW
It had been another one of those far too hot days that Marisa didn't really enjoy. They always left her wanting to curl up in some air conditioned place and never come out again. Only she'd needed to at various points for a few things and it actually hadn't been a bad day. Although as it got later she began to grow more and more nervous until she thought that her heart was going to beat its way right out of her chest. Because it wasn't just a typical night. Oh no. She was going to go and have dinner with Owen. Owen. Who was technically still her husband but she hadn't actually been around for... years. A multitude of reasons that kept circling around her mind as she walked up to the door and rang the doorbell, reaching up to toy with her earrings. she wasn't used to wearing jewelry of any sort but had decided that maybe it would be acceptable for now.
But why? She didn't know. They were going to talk, about everything. Did that mean what he had done to her too? That was the worst part as far as Marisa was concerned and she didn't know how that could come up without her wanting to do what she had done in the first place - run as far away as she could get. Though right then she stood firm and waited for Owen to open the door.
He'd been nervous all day, more so after his mother came to pick up Edward for the night. He was excited to be spending the night with his grandparents, knowing they were going to spoil him rotten. Hudson had taken up residence in the yard, by the grill as his master heated it up. "Don't be nervous." Owen chuckled at the door at his feet. "Easy for you to say, pup. It's not your wife coming to dinner." His fingers moved to the white gold band beneath his shirt. After she was gone, it was always on a chain beneath his shirt. Now, it felt heavy and he waited for her to come to the home he'd made without her.
"Someone's here. A cat. Must be her." Hudson let out a bark and trotted through the house to the door, waiting for Owen to catch up. And he did, wiping his hands on a towel, making sure his ring was out of sight. "Hey, Marisa," he said, opening the door for her. "Come in."
The sound of the bark came before the door open and the scent of a dog reached Marisa, stronger when the door opened. She'd grown used to smelling dog after the years spent with Claire but this was different, less wild with no human tinges. This must have been the talking dog that Edward had told her about, the one that meant Owen was not quite human. Marisa was focused more on the dog, giving herself that extra moment before she looked up at Owen and smiled in greeting, pushing her hair back behind her ear. "Thank you," she replied as she stepped in and looked around. Seemed like a pleasant little place. Not too big or extraordinary, just right for a single father and his son. Now she could smell the food and gave a little shake of her head. Steak after all. "Dinner smells lovely, Owen, are we eating in the kitchen? Wherever the kitchen is... I'd ask for a tour but I think that dinner sounds like a better idea."
"The deck actually. Steaks are almost done." He led her through the house and to the back, out to the deck. It was still a little sunny and he held up a pitcher of iced tea. "Would you like something to drink?" Hudson followed beside the were, sniffing her and deciding he liked her. He nuzzled her hand a little and Owen felt a little out numbered. His familiar was a mush and Edward was this close to learning who his mother was. It was a lot for him to deal with. After pouring a few glasses, he moved to the grill and flipped the steaks once more. "Five minutes more." The potatoes were done and in a covered dish with the corn to keep everything hot on the table. "I'm glad you found it okay." Smooth, Owen.
Outside then, even better. Marisa followed Owen out and took a seat. "Yes please, thank you." It was nice to not scent any alcohol on anything. It made her a little nervous to think of him drinking. It was even nicer to not spot a single piece of silver anywhere, not even when it came to the forks and such. And no silver knifes. One knot loosened a little and she accepted the tea, sipping lightly. "Hello there," she murmured to the dog. "Edward told me about you, that you can talk. And yes, it was no problem to find." It was hard to just look up at Owen because he was really right there. And there was no child there to loosen up the tension, to keep them from saying things that she was afraid of saying. Like sorry. She didn't even know if she could say sorry. "It's umm... it's very nice." She kept her hand on the dog's head. "So, Owen, what are you?"
Hudson was glad for the attention and he panted happily. "Yes, I can talk. Edward is a good little boy, very fun to play with." Clearly, the dog was very fond of him. Owen glanced over his shoulder, looking sheepish. "I'm actually a water elemental." Still low level, but it was something that made him different. After everything he'd been through, he had ended up something akin to what he'd been hunting for three years. Fate was kind of funny like that. Still, he had a conscience. He knew what he'd done was wrong and that he'd likely burn in hell for it, if there was such a place. But now his priority was his son and making sure that Edward was happy and healthy. "Only a level two but still, it's something, right?"
Marisa had talked with familiars before, not very many but enough to not flinch away from the sound of a voice inside of her head. Even if she didn't really like it there. "Edward is a delight," Marisa agreed, looking over at Owen. That probably had a lot to do with him. Nature vs nuture could be such a case with Edward, if what Owen said about him having things in common with her was true. "That makes sense, actually." Marisa didn't find it hard to see Owen as a water elemental even if he had gone and hunted supernaturals down. It was terrible to think of him doing that, to know he was capable of actually killing people. Another knot added into her head. "With the so musical thing and all of that... he doesn't know who I am. Edward. Didn't recognize me even a little bit when he saw me. Has he even seen a picture other than when he was with my mom? I know you let them see him, they told me." It was a rush and Marisa was a little surprised at herself, clamping her mouth shut and sitting back when it was out, though her eyes stayed on Owen. One question. That was all.
He pulled the steaks off the grill and moved back over to the table, putting them down between them before he sat. "He has seen you. Just didn't recognize you at first. He came to me last night, holding our wedding picture asking why the lady we had pizza with was kissing me. Edward fell asleep in my arms, holding onto that picture while I told him about the night I first heard you sing. I didn't tell him exactly who you were only because I needed to talk to you first. I needed to get some answers before I can give them to our son." Reaching out, he took her hand. "I used to sing to him when he was falling asleep, when I was around, all the songs you used to walk around the house singing to him, even before you gave birth to him. I would tell him stories about you, when he'd ask where his mommy was. I never told him you were gone forever, even before I found out you were still alive. My mom says she gets asked about you more than I do. But I would never, ever deny him the chance to know his mother. Never." Owen Rook wasn't a heartless man. He'd never been heartless.
Look at that, he keeps touching me. Marisa tried to focus on that for a moment even as she lapped up the words he was saying. About how Edward asked about her and how Owen had sang to him for her. His voice wasn't the same as hers, she knew that, and she wondered if Edward had ever realized the difference. No, he's too young. He probably wouldn't even recognize if I sang to him. No matter what people say about babies always remembering what their mother's sound like. It was a relief to hear that Edward asked about her even as it hurt to realize how much he might have missed her. Oh she had tried to convince herself over the years that it didn't matter, didn't make a difference and to hear that it was otherwise? That might have hurt more than when Owen had actually stabbed her. A lot more. "You..." Marisa stopped and cleared her throat. Why were her eyes wet, glistening with tears? "I'm glad that you sang those songs to him, a little something and... pictures..." She paused and picked up her fork to reach out for a steak, trying desperately to focus on something else. "Still as good of a cook as always?"
He brushed his thumb against the back of her hand before letting go. "You tell me, Risa." He handed her the container with the potato and the corn for her, helping himself to dinner. Owen was starving and yet, he wasn't even that hungry. He picked at his food for a few minutes before looking up at her, his turn to ask a question. "Why did you leave? I know that night I must have startled you, but why didn't you come to me the next day? Why didn't you explain to me what happened? Did you think I wouldn't listen?" God, if she had done that, he would have held her close for the whole day, so glad he hadn't lost her. When she left, she took something of him with her and that was something he was starting to get back, that bit that made him a good man, not someone bent on revenge. He took a sip of his tea before looking down at his plate, wondering if there was anything he could have done to make her come back before now.
When the silence stretched, Marisa contented herself with eating. She was not so big on the potatoes or corn, taking a little more to be polite than anything else. But the steak, that she loved. It was flavored deliciously and cooked just right - not too done and not too raw. Delicious. "Yes, good as always," she said after a few bites. Then he asked. And he asked about the worst thing. That was the whole thing that caused her to go to the psychologist still and try and get her issues out. She knew why she'd left but sharing that? She'd only done that with her little group of fellow were's from high school. The ones who really did know everything about her. What was the easiest answer? Or at least the one that she could give?
"I was raised to never, ever let anyone find out about me," Marisa said slowly, chewing a bite of steak after that, swallowing and clinking her fork against the plate. "You know that I was raised by just my mom, me and Cassie. Because I was a born a were, like mom, and she left my father with us so that he wouldn't find out. Because people in my family have been killed for being like this. By..." It was a hard word to get out with Owen there, with knowing that he had been doing it. Knowing that he'd done to other families what had been done to hers. "Hunters. My uncle, his wife, their children... so i watched Edward, to see if he was, but I still didn't know so I had to stay. Because it was you, Owen, and I didn't want to leave you. But when you saw me I couldn't... couldn't stay, I was too afraid. I'm a coward in this and I always regretted not taking Edward. Like my mother only not quite because I couldn't take him from you." Now? She was glad she hadn't in some ways.
During his time as a hunter, he never imagined what it would feel like for their families. Even if he'd known how that felt. No, he was hell bent on vengeance. But since he'd stopped drinking and started thinking clearly again, he knew what he'd done was wrong, that he'd hurt people. Mostly innocent people. He was an idiot. Now that he knew it had happened to her family, to people she loved and cared about, he felt even worse. "Marisa, I can never really express how sorry I am about the way I reacted. Or about what I did. I'm not proud of it and I know there is blood on my hands." Blood he'd never be able to wash away. "I would never have pushed you away. I loved every single part of you. What was one more thing?" He still loved her, but he wasn't sure she wanted to hear that part. "Edward needs his mother. He misses you, even if he doesn't remember you, he knows he misses you. Why do you think he hugged you yesterday when we were leaving?"
For Marisa, knowing that Owen had turned to hunting when he thought she had been killed by something had been terrible. She couldn't have gone back if she wanted to at that, never knowing for certain if it would've been too much. If maybe he would have reacted by killing her too and then when she had seen him? No, no Marisa hadn't been sure and she couldn't be blamed. Her mother and Cassandra had never disagreed with her, nor had her friends aloud. "You don't need my forgiveness for what you did, you never harmed any of mine." Marisa would've known. She wouldn't be here if he had. "You say that now, but then? You can never know, people have reacted so badly to their loved ones not being human. Fears a powerful thing... I know." Then he brought up Edward too. It was different when she did for some reason, it didn't have a ring of 'he needs you, you know he does, you left him.' Owen didn't say it but he didn't have to. Marisa knew what she'd done. Run away. "Children know things they shouldn't. They're so innocent. I don't know if there's been a day that I haven't regretted... or thought about, what I did." Was regret the right word? She had done what she thought she needed to do to stay alive and make sure Edward was the same. Just what her mother had done. A curse of the blood.
"I do need your forgiveness. I need to know that you don't think I'm a horrible monster," he admitted, finally saying the words that had been eating at him since he'd come home. That he was a monster for what he'd done. He pushed away his plate and looked at her, not hungry at all. All he wanted to do was talk and that's what he was getting. He shook his head. "Maybe you're right, but you didn't even give me chance. All I saw was you leaving and blood everywhere. I didn't know what to think then." It wasn't entirely her fault, but there were so many what ifs in that situation. None of them mattered now Not a one. "I want you to be a part of our lives again." That hadn't been what he'd been thinking about all day. He'd told himself that he'd plead on his son's behalf, that he needed his mother. But Owen's heart had spoken up for him and he needed his wife back. "He's a smart kid. Spent too much time at my parents' the past few years. But that's all different now."
Her forgiveness for what he'd done. For all of the killing or for having hurt her? She didn't think that he was a monster and never had, just... no, she didn't know what she'd thought. Only that she'd never thought he would actually do that to her. Deep down she had thought her mother was wrong. No, she couldn't say it right then, couldn't make the words go past her lips. Her fork had been set down and stayed there, her appetite gone even though she could feel herself coming awake a little more every moment. The sky was turning that color that signaled the end of the day and, for her, the time of day she was always most active. "You said 'our lives'," Marisa replied at last, folding her hands in her lap. Her heart was beating too hard and she knew that Owen wasn't calm. "Not just Edward's, not just for him. For what now - for you? Owen, you don't need to do that just for Edward's sake. I have a job here I'm not going to leave him again, you really don't have to have anything to do with me past that anymore. We could..." She licked her lips, looked away, clearing her throat again. "We're not divorced yet, if you're just afraid of asking me to... I didn't come looking for a reunion truthfully, wasn't looking for it." What she didn't say was that she wouldn't turn it away. She didn't know what she'd do.
Part of him wanted to kiss her, to show her how much he didn't want her to leave, didn't want to divorce her. Instead, he pulled out the white gold chain he kept around his neck, the simple band they'd picked together hanging on it. "I don't want to divorce you, Marisa. I love you. I have loved you since we were in college. That didn't change." Owen got up and knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his. "I have no idea what the future could bring for us. There is still so much we have to talk about, so much time that passed that we can't take back but I hate the thought of you not being in my life beyond being the mother to our son. I miss my wife." This wasn't about their son. It was purely selfish. "I'm not saying move in tonight, but I don't want to give up on this. You have had my heart since I heard you singing that song from Les Mis." It was true. He couldn't hear it without thinking about her, how she looked when she was singing, how her voice echoed through him. Nothing could compare to that. Except maybe her laugh. God, he missed her laugh.
This wasn't what Marisa had expected. A yes to that question would have hurt but she was a good enough actress to hide it and pretend like it didn't. But this wasn't... she hadn't even imagined... he loved her? Still? After she had run away and left him alone to raise their son without her help. Let him think she was dead. Driven him half-crazy and to killing people because he thought that she'd been murdered. And he still loved her? You didn't stab people that you loved and she had a scar on her side that said he'd done that. "i wouldn't move in tonight," Marisa said, the first thing that could come to mind. How could she even think about doing something like that? They'd been apart for so long, things had changed. She had changed, he had changed. Changed without each other, not together like we were supposed to. He still had his ring, it was right there and she tugged one hand free so that she could touch it, rolling the cool metal between her fingers. "Now you don't want to give up, but you did a year ago when I tried. Why not then, Owen? Why does it have to be now when I've had all that time to think about you not... not wanting me for you or for Edward." It was a little cruel maybe, but Marisa couldn't just not ask.
He looked up at her and he knew he'd hurt her with more than just the knife a year ago. But she hadn't pulled away yet. So much had happened, but he needed to know that she still loved him too. "A year ago, I was more alcohol than anything else. I was an idiot who was still grieving. Seeing you was such a shock and I wasn't in my right mind. Does that excuse what I did? Hell, no! But it's a mistake I have lived with and relived every day since then." Owen looked up at her. "A year ago I felt so betrayed that you would just leave like that, let me think you were dead, that you could leave our son. I've gone through a lot of therapy, mostly to help with the drinking and I learned a lot about myself. And I know that I still love you and I will love you until I die. And that I understand to some degree why you left, even if I wish with all my heart that you hadn't." Glancing down, he watched her touch the ring she'd gave him so many years ago, flashing back to that day, when he was happy.
The smell of alcohol had burned her nose. Even for someone who worked at a bar it hadn't been a pleasant smell, nothing like the one she had always remembered with him. He didn't smell like that now and she doubted there was so much as a drop of alcohol to be found anywhere in the house. Which was good. She preferred it that way. As though I have the right to prefer anything in any way. Marisa didn't think that she did. He's in therapy too. He grieved for my death, stabbed me, still loves me. It was all so very much to take in. "I don't want to keep going back to it... but Owen..." It was so hard, so hard, to have him kneeling right there and touching her when she'd struggled with figuring out if she wanted that again or not. Because he'd relived stabbing her every day; and so did she. She shook her head and looked away, voice quiet. "I just don't know. I... never stopped loving you, but... I don't..." She didn't know what she was supposed to do.
Unable to help the heavy feeling in his chest, he finally released her hands and moved back to his chair. She didn't know. Hell, he didn't have any answers either and he wasn't quite sure what kind of answers he should have been hoping for. "I understand," he said softly, wishing for all the world that he really did. It was hard for him to understand because as confused as he was, he still loved her more than anything else, save their son. Owen looked at his plate, still not even close to hungry at this point. Well, he could always heat it again for lunch. Maybe he had pushed too much too soon. They needed to adjust to being around each other again. At least he could hang on to the fact that she never stopped loving him. That had to be something to rebuild this relationship on. It had to be. Marisa looked the same but he knew she had changed. They couldn't take back the time that had passed but could they really ever forget what he'd done to her?
He understood... so why didn't Marisa feel any better about it? Because I don't want to understand. Marisa didn't always say what she wanted, sometimes she let it go unsaid and she had always wanted Owen to just be able to read her mind. Figure out what she really wanted when even she was unsure what that was. That would have made all of this so much easier... bearable, even. Sighing, Marisa dropped her fork onto her plate and stood. "I'll help you clean up... I'm... I'm sorry." Because she couldn't say what he wanted to hear and make it better for him. And they'd both realized that she wanted to be there for Edward. What Marisa hadn't known before coming was that Owen had wanted her back for himself too. Maybe he hadn't either. She had no way of knowing.
This hadn't turned out at all like he'd hoped it would. Owen had spent half the night imagining what it would be like and he had to just push her. Neither one was hungry, it seemed. "It's alright, Risa. I'll take care of this." He carried their plates carefully into the house and tried not to get upset. He wasn't a man with a temper but he certainly wanted to punch something for being an idiot. This whole thing was just too much too fast and he'd gone and messed it up even more. He should have been glad she even agreed to come to dinner. There hadn't even been any real small talk. Just jump head first and wait for the water to rise. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed tupperware for their food, intending at least to give it to her should she be hungry again later. Wasn't fair to deprive her of the meal as well.
Owen was being stubborn about her helping. Marisa never understood why anyone wouldn't just take help. So she waited until he was gone with the plates to pick up the bowls with the potatoes and corn, balancing the steak on top of one as she made her way into the kitchen. Being a snow leopard had blessed her with a wonderful sense of balance and grace and she didn't even look awkward as she set them down on the counter, watching Owen as he got the tupperware down. "I've upset you," she said quietly, "I didn't really mean to. We just... we've hardly talked. You've known I'm here for all of a day and... I am sorry."
Shaking his head, he focused on storing the meal away. "I know. It's just too soon, I guess." His voice was a little deeper and he was getting more and more annoyed with himself. This could have been a nice evening, but the way things ended last year wasn't really the best. Figures he'd be paying for it now. "If you want, pick a day to come over and we can tell Edward together who you are. I'm sure he'd like to know that." Keep it on their son. It was easier that way. Hudson seemed to be keeping outside, realizing that the humans needed to talk more than he needed to listen. Owen turned and realized entirely too late that Marisa was standing so close, close enough that he could smell her and it was hard. His chest tightened and he didn't move for a moment, hands poised mere inches from her body. And then he breathed and it was all over. He was pulling her close and kissing her like he should have done when he found her alive.
There was that thing his voice did when he was annoyed. Though he was offering to let her be there when he told Edward, to have her help him. Marisa wasn't sure how well that would go since she doubted even her acting skills were up to being able to handle that. "I-" Her words cut off because he'd turned and he was right there and Marisa felt her body tense up from a wide mix of things. First was the desire to flee because the last time he'd been this close it had hurt, but second and just as strong was staying right where she was, maybe stepping forward because it'd been years and she remembered all too well what it had been like... she'd never even kissed him good- there went her thoughts, gone because he was kissing her. She was stronger and could've resisted being pulled in if she wanted to. But I don't. She was still tense but after a moment she realized that her first instinct had been smothered and she was kissing him back.
If it was possible for the water elemental to drown in anything, it was surely in her. Even more so than the alcohol that had sustained him for years. God, she tasted the same, smelt the same, felt the same and he held her close, pressing himself against her as she kissed him back. This was his wife, the woman he'd fallen in love with, married, started a family with. All he could do was think about her, how much he missed this, the way their bodies fit, leaving barely any room between them. One hand stayed on her waist, the other slipped into her hair as he deepened the kiss, craving her now.
Owen wasn't stronger than her. Marisa could pull away. She could. She was telling herself that as he pulled her in closer and moved one hand up into her hair. She'd missed this more than she knew. Owen felt the same as he had before, smelled the same and god, no she wasn't supposed to do this. She was mad at him for hurting her and needed to run away and stay away before he pulled her back in and... and... Marisa was telling herself that but she wasn't moving. And she could have because the kitchen was open behind her. No, her hands went up to his shoulders and she gripped and pushed him back, refusing to break the kiss because even if she was afraid she couldn't help herself. He had started it, that was what she told herself, it was all his fault.
She was pressing back, holding him too and he leaned back against the counter behind him. Owen groaned a little. She was so warm, alive. He really should have this a year ago. Not wanting to scare her, he slid his hand up her back and nipped at her lower lip a little before kissing her again. It felt good, right. Like coming home again and it was amazing. This was his wife, the woman he had chosen to spend the rest of his life with. And though there was time they were apart, he had her in his arms now.
Marisa didn't know how she did it because her body was screaming at her not to, but she broke the kiss and leaned back. She didn't break his grip though, closing her eyes as she took in a deep, steadying breath. "We can't just do this," she told Owen, her voice wavering like she was trying to convince herself too. Because her body had very definite ideas on exactly what she could - and probably was - going to do. "We can't..." Her eyes fluttered open and focused on his chin, it was safe to look there. "I just came back and there's so much we haven't talked about..."
Leaning in, he brushed his lips over her neck for a moment before kissing her ear. "Why? God, Marisa, I missed you so much." He rubbed her back, keeping her close. She wasn't pulling away and he wasn't going to let her go until she did so. He looked at her eyes and he felt like he would get lost in them. His hand moved to her chin, brushing his thumb over it before moving his fingers over her cheek. Leaning in, his lips hovered over hers, a breath away from hers. She had to make this move.
Because they needed to talk. Because they weren't the same. Because her mother would kill her if she found out she'd just come home and a multitude of other reasons that existed and she was completely forgetting because his mouth was right there. "Because," she managed to say before she leaned in and kissed him, one hand going to the back of his neck. Marisa wasn't weak-willed, or so she liked to thing, but right then her animal instinct and what her heart wanted were winning out over logic. Logic had actually gone rather quiet somewhere in the back of her mind.
She kissed him and he groaned again. Owen couldn't get enough of her mouth and they stood in the kitchen like that for minutes, maybe hours. Hell, he couldn't tell. Not when she was pressed against him like that. "Marisa," he breathed, looking into her eyes. He'd missed her. It took some maneuvering but he moved them from the kitchen, keeping his arms around her as he made his way to the couch. "Oh, baby." His lips were on hers again and he didn't ever want to let her go.
Where were they going and why were they moving? Marisa had liked where they were, being the one who had pressed against him because she had always needed to pretend that she wasn't stronger. And there she was, just going along like putty in his hands because really that was what she was. Her legs hit the back of the couch but she didn't fall down. She didn't want to. Her eyes opened and she turned, pressing him down and settling into his lap. There was something else she had missed, she realized with a brief flash of clarity, sitting in his lap. "I've missed you," she whispered to him, leaning down to kiss the side of his neck.
He was sitting and she was in his lap and his hands instantly moved back to her body, holding her close. "So much, Risa," he breathed as her lips touched his skin. God, that was what he needed, what he'd missed. The love of his life in his lap, kissing him like that. "I love you." His ring still hung between them and he smoothed his hands up her sides and down her back, making little noises in the back of his throat at what she was doing to him. Owen would never be able to resist her like this. Yes, he'd started it by kissing her in the kitchen, but she had kept it going and all he could do was slip a hand into her hair, feeling the familiar silky strands, happy and content.
Marisa paused when he said that, a small lump in her throat that she shook off. No, she wasn't going to stop and think right now, she'd be so mad at herself if she did that. Might be mad if I don't stop too... So she just didn't say anything, her mouth busy with his neck until she slid her hands down to the hem of his shirt and she pulled it up and off. "Oh," she breathed, dark eyes wide as she slid her hands up. Had he always had all of those muscles? She didn't think so because those weren't the muscles of a high school teacher. Her inner leopard purred its approval because really, strength was never a bad thing and it looked like he had it. "You have changed..." Her fingers moved up, across the ring that he was wearing, back to his face.
The feel of her fingers against his skin made him shiver. "A little." The one good thing he'd picked up from his years as a hunter. Something his wife clearly approved of, if the way her hands were touching him were any indication. His smoothed up and down her sides before one slipped under the shirt, palm flat against the small of her back. He took one of her hands and placed it over his heart. "This is still the same." Leaning up, he kissed her, mouth open to hers. The hand on her back pulled her closer, bringing their hips together.
That wasn't a little change, that was a big one. And Marisa approved of it, shivering a little at the feel of them and again as she felt one of his hands pressing into her bare skin. A quiet sigh because it'd been so long since someone had touched her like that and she had missed that as much as the kisses and just the feel of him there. Her fingers pressed into the skin above his heart, feeling the beat there and how it had picked up from a steady rhythm to one much less even, faster. Moaning into the kiss and shifted away, pushing him back for a moment so that she could stretch out on the couch. Her fingers dug into his shoulder and she pulled him back to her, her mouth back against his. Her lips were already a little sore from however long they had spent in the kitchen but she didn't care, it was a delicious sore that she hadn't felt in years. Too long.
She pulled away and he groaned as she lay back, pulling him with her. Four years. Maybe it was longer than that, but he hadn't touched another woman since she left him. Not like this. As he kissed her, his hands moved to the hem of her shirt, pulling it up a little before pulling back to pull it over her head and toss it to the side, joining his on the floor. "Marisa," he breathed. Her skin was warm, welcoming and he kissed down her neck. His hands traced her side and he felt it, his lips pausing against her skin. Shifting a little, he looked down and saw the scar, the physical reminder of the fact that he was an asshole last year, a dangerous asshole. Leaning down, he brushed his lips over the scar for a moment before kissing from the center of her stomach back up to her neck.
Leaving on a full moon and returning the night after one, wasn't that irony if it ever existed? Marisa felt her breath hitch as her shirt was slid off, Owen's lips warm against her neck as his hands went over her - oh. Her eyes opened and she looked down at him, watching as he looked at the scar. It was still vivid against her skin and probably always would be because, unlike other wounds, it had come from silver and those never healed quite the same for someone like her. "Don't-" But as the word left her lips Owen was leaning down and actually kissing the scar that he'd left. That same hand at. Stop it already, stop thinking! Thinking was getting in the way of what she wanted like it always did. Because he was back at her neck now and she let out a quiet purr at how positively her body was reacting to all of the attention. She wanted to touch and kiss him, remind herself of all the spots that made him react in the ways she remembered, but it was really hard to focus on that when she really liked how things were going right then. Like she was going to stop him.
She was purring and he smiled against her skin. Owen kissed back to her lips, fingers moving to her back again. This moment, in her arms, it felt so good. Instead of kissing her, he hovered his lips over hers, just out of her reach before brushing them over her jaw, hoping her reaction would be the same as always. He missed her reactions. He murmured her name again. God, her skin even tasted the same. He could live in this moment forever. His lips brushed her ear, tugging it a little as his hand smoothed up and down her back, not quite going for the clasp of her bra just yet.
Marisa felt a little bit of relief that he didn't mind her purring. Now that he knew what she really was he would be able to make the connection between some of her reactions and the cat part of her nature. "Oh," it was a small gasp and her head pressed back against the arm of the couch when his lips reached her jaw. That had always been such a sensitive part of her body and it seemed that Owen remembered that after all. One hand slid up into his hair, encouraging him to keep doing what he was while her other slid up and down his spine, re-familiarizing herself with the feel of him.
Her fingers moved over his back and he groaned softly, lips going back to her jaw. He'd always liked it when she touched him like that, fingers in his hair, holding him close to her. It had always been a sign that he was doing the right thing and it made him smile. Owen nipped a little, a soft scrape of his teeth against her jaw before he moved down her neck to tease that little dip in her collarbone. God, that was so sexy. The tip of his tongue flicked out against her warm flesh and he held her close.
It was like they were back in college again. when everything had been soft and tentative, little touches and glances to make sure that it was okay, that this didn't hurt and that felt good. Which is did, oh it felt good when his mouth was suddenly down near her collarbone. "Owen," she sighed, sliding her foot up along his leg as she shifted so that they pressed together more naturally. But they were still innocent touches in comparison to what she remembered so for a brief moment she wondered if maybe they were going to go as slow as they had before, as she had forced and her nails scraped against the skin of his back. "Don't... don't stop?"
She pulled him closer and he groaned as he pressed against her. "Not here." Owen got up and lifted her into his arms before walking with her to his bedroom. When he moved, he held her close to him, the way he did on their wedding night. It was a much happier time. A time he wanted back. He would stop along the way to kiss her again and finally he made it to the bed, laying her on it before kicking off his flip flops and laying down on top of her. "You sure?" he asked, hovering over her, hand resting gently on her waist.
Marisa was about to whimper a protest when Owen lifted her right up into his arms. How could she protest being carried like this? Like when they'd been married and in their first place... memories were flooding through her, happy memories that she was fine with. Back when she'd thought it would all just work. Stretching out on the bed when he laid her on it, Marisa was pleased to realize that she couldn't smell any other women there. Her shoes were slipped off as he got on the bed, arms going up around his neck. "Yes," she replied, leaning up to kiss him again because really, she wasn't getting enough of that anytime soon. When she broke away her eyes were even darker, one hand on his cheek. "I've missed you so much... I didn't even realize how much."
Shifting, he pressed against her, between her legs. "I missed you, too, Risa," he whispered softly, watching her. Owen nuzzled her jaw a little before drawing his lips back over the skin. She was beautiful laying there beneath him. His hands moved up and down her sides as they lay there, kissing. After a few long minutes, he moved his hands up the clasp of her bra. Slowly, he undid it and slid the straps down her arms before removing it entirely. "Beautiful," he breathed, watching her again.
She hadn't been told she was beautiful in years. Okay yes she had been but it hadn't been by anyone she wanted to listen to. Guys hitting on her at the bar, ones that Claire had tried hooking her up with that hadn't gone over so well. Now though it was different because she wanted the words and they sounded so nice, even if the fact that Owen was just watching her again drew out a little protesting noise. "You watch too much," she told him, wrapping her fingers around his wrist to pull it to one of her breasts, gasping at the feel because even if she was guiding it it was his hand. "Need to touch more, watch less this time."
"I always watch you," he whispered as he let his hand be moved, it seeming to come to life the moment it touched her skin. This was his Marisa, warm and beneath him. God. Cupping the flesh beneath his fingers, he brushed his thumb over her nipple as he moved to kiss her jaw again. "Because you're so beautiful." Owen prayed in that moment that this wasn't a dream, that he wouldn't wake up to find that it had all been an illusion. That would have broken him. "And I will touch you for the same reason." That and he loved her.
It was no dream. None of Marisa dreams were ever so pleasant and alive and this was always the point where it'd turn from delightful to dangerous, a knife flashing but no. There was none of that here. This was her Owen and he wasn't drunk now, he was sober and she could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. "Because I'm beautiful," Marisa sighed, eyes fluttering closed again at the feel of his thumb brushing over her nipple, teasing it up. God that felt so good. "Here I thought it'd be because you wanted me... l-" Her words cut off, she wasn't going to use that word, no she wasn't. It'd make her start thinking again and thinking was only going to get in the way. Instead she traced her fingers along the waistband of his jeans, sneaking one through one of the loops to pull him closer to her.
"I want you," he breathed, breath hitching as she pulled him closer. Owen pulled her leg up against him a little more so he could press into her. "I love you," he whispered into her ear. Moving his lips back over her jaw, he kissed down the center of her neck, mouth closing over her other nipple. He wanted her to feel. To know that he cared about her more than any other woman in the world. That he wanted this, to feel her against him. Marisa was incredibly beautiful when she was like this, relaxed, free.
Again with that word that made Marisa tense up because he'd said it several times and her not one. There was too much there, it couldn't come around without so much more being talked about and yet... she just gasped and arched up a little when he moved her leg and pressed into her. There were too many clothes in the way of all this, blocking them. "I do want you," she told him, looking down at where he was now lavishing attention on both of her breasts. So many sensations that she hadn't felt in too long. Her body almost didn't know how to handle them but it was remembering. No other choice because Marisa had already said not to stop. Without even thinking her fingers began to work at the button of his jeans.
She was touching him too but that didn't mean that he didn't feel her tense when he told her he loved her. He did. It was a complicated kind of love. But it was love none the less. If him saying it didn't help, he wouldn't. But he was damn well going to show her. After everything they'd been through, he still loved her. Deep down, he loved her and he wouldn't trade that love for anything. Her fingers brushed against him and he groaned against her skin, letting his hand wander from her breast down to the fly of her own pants. He wanted this, her, the feel of her, the heat of her. That familiar place that had missed.
While Marisa's body protested the lack of his hand on her breast, she liked where it was going even more. She stroked her fingers against the back of his head, body arching up a little in response. Of course she remembered how to do this, right? Those weren't butterflies of nerves fluttering in her stomach at all, they were... something else. The button came undone and she moved down, undoing the zipper before hooking her fingers through a loop to try and wriggle them off. Her eyes flashed when she realized that unless he moved that wasn't happening. "Take them off, Owen." Not a request, she wasn't in the sort of mood where she wanted to ask for things.
"What ever you want, Risa." Shifting, grin on his face, he stood and slipped the pants from his body. There was that hint of demand in her voice, something he had always liked, when she got that way. She was the only woman he'd have in his bed. Laying back over her, he kissed her belly button as his fingers worked her fly. Owen looked up at her and he could see the look in her eyes, seeing how much she was enjoying this moment. He shimmied them down her hips, but only a little. "Is this what you want?"
A crooked smile tugged at her mouth when Owen did as she had said. That was another thing that she remembered having been so much fun. When she got into one of those moods where she couldn't just lay back and he responded so... easily. So perfectly. His mouth on her stomach while he pulled her pants down, drawing out a disappointed groan when he stopped. "I did... I said I wanted you, Owen," her voice was genuine and she moved her hands, propping herself up with one elbow while her fingers slip around to stroke his cheek. "My body's practically screaming for it, I don't think I could stop. I don't want you to stop."
Turning his head, he kissed her palm. "You'll have me and I don't want to stop." He finished what he was doing, pulling her pants off and revealing white, satin panties. God, he remembered the satin. He hooked his fingers in the waistband and pulled them down, tossing them to the floor. "So beautiful." Marisa was bare before him and he had remembered that sight, how she looked laid out on the bed like that. Shifting, he settled himself between her legs. His fingers traveled up her legs, his touch soft, teasing. Leaning forward, he flicked his tongue out against her body, against the little nub of nerves between her legs.
It was almost like she was in her twenties again, back when all of this had been new and more exhilarating for it. Her breath was a little uneven, her heart beating out a faster tempo as Owen's fingers traced up her legs. "Oh god," it was a quiet sigh that slipped past her lips when his tongue flicked against her, hips lifting up, pressing her body closer. "Owen..." She hadn't said the name in so long and now she couldn't seem to stop, her hand rubbing behind his ear, up into his hair. It felt so, so good to have him down there. Like old times again.
His tongue was firmer, tasting her. God, he missed that taste, the sound of her saying his name like that. He slipped one finger inside her slick heat, groaning against her body. This was something he dreamed out, something that he missed as much as he missed her singing in the kitchen. There was no stopping this. Taking his time, memorizing her body again, the way she would shake or shudder. He wanted to make sure she enjoyed every second of this, of what he wanted her to feel. Her hand was in his hair and he moaned against her body once more.
Marisa's free hand tangled into the top blanket on Owen's bed, mouth falling open in a cry. It was like little shocks of electricity were flickering out from where Owen's tongue was at work, and where his finger had gone inside. It was one of the best feelings in the world, even better than when she had made a successful attack late the previous night as a leopard. She couldn't control the shivers going up and down her spine. And he was moaning, god she didn't care what anyone else liked - that was the best thing when he would moan down between her legs. Because it meant he was enjoying himself without even being touched. She could let him do that for awhile...
There wasn't a single reason for him not to be enjoying himself. She was making all manner of amazing noises. Adding a second finger, Owen watched her, watched how she grabbed the blanket, how she arched a little. Beautiful. He wanted her so badly, but he wanted this too. Not every man liked to do this sort of thing, but he loved that he could reduce her to moans and gasps. Groaning a little, he slid a hand up, drawing idle designs on her stomach, eyes on hers.
She loved it, there was no denying that. The noises slipping out of her mouth were testament to that along with the way that her body tensed and pressed up against him, encouraging. But this wasn't what she really wanted, it was just a warm-up, letting him do what he wanted to remember what she was like. Her fingers tangled into his short hair and she gave a tug to lift his head up, her body demanding to know what was wrong because that had felt amazing. "I know you're enjoying yourself," she said, voice all but a purr, if a tentative one. "But can't you come up here... enjoy it with me?"
"God, yes I can." As he moved up her body, he slipped out of his boxers. He slipped his hand up to her neck, cupping the back of her head so he could kiss her deeply. She looked incredible and he couldn't believe this wasn't a dream. He broke the kiss to brush his lips over her jaw before pressing inside her. This, this was like coming home and he pulled back to look into her eyes as his hips moved against hers. "Marisa," he breathed, hips setting a rhythm. "God, baby."
For a moment Marisa's thoughts started back up - were they going to do this? Really? And if they were then shouldn't there be a - then Owen was kissing her and it all went right out the window. What did it matter? It didn't because then he was pressing inside and Marisa felt her hips arching up in response, one hand sliding down to grasp his ass and encourage him to move the way she wanted. He didn't seem to need much help though, it was almost like he remembered. "Owen," came her return gasp. For that time right there it didn't matter what had happened to them before. That she'd left and that he'd hunted because it was like it hadn't happened. Like they were just back in Boston when life was simpler. "Just like that..."
He remembered. He remembered how it felt to be inside her, how she arched beneath him. Groaning, he leaned in to kiss her again. His hands moved down her sides, shifting her a little, pulling her close as he slid inside her once more. Everything felt like it was supposed to, like it would have been if four years hadn't passed between them. Owen pulled back from the kiss, watching her as he moved, as they moved together. It was something he'd missed, this connection with her. A reminder of better days.
Marisa thought she could stay like that forever. Her body was singing Owen's praises and her mouth echoed them. There was no need to think about anything and she just let go, shifting and pulling and arching. Giving into what her body wanted with a growl. And as she needed the edge, her body tensing, she leaned up and pressed her mouth back against Owen's, wanting to be touching him as much as she could. Wasn't this the best sort of reunion?
That growl. It was sexy as hell and he pressed into her, groaning. His hands moved over her skin, up against her breast, cupping it in his palm, thumb brushing the nipple. Owen kissed her back, pressing into her as he felt her muscles clench, willing this moment to never end. Buried inside her, he could forget everything but what he felt for her, what it was like to be around her again, with her, holding her. Maybe it made him a little sappy, but he loved it.
Owen had always been the more emotional of the two despite being the male, and Marisa had never once had a problem with that. It was sort of nice to have a man who would - oh, there went her thoughts again, right out the window because Owen pressed just right and she couldn't help but cry out, nails digging into his shoulder. "Just... ahh..." It was hard to string her words together and she'd just made a mental note to never, ever go so long celibate again. "Little harder, please." First time she'd actually asked for anything.
He would have done anything for her in that moment if she'd asked. His hips picked up the pace, pressing more firmly into her as he growled softly himself, the sound coming naturally to him. "Risa." Owen closed his eyes as he kissed her again, holding her close as they moved together. Yeah, he was a sentimental fool, but he had the girl, didn't he? He had his wife back, even if it was just for the moment and it meant the world to him.
Now Owen was growling and Marisa let out something between a laugh and a moan at hearing him do that. Almost like he was going a little cat-ish on his own. If not for the fact that her body was tensing and cresting, racing towards orgasm then she would have remarked on it. Hopefully I'll remember later. Because then, with Owen holding and kissing her, Marisa's body peaked and she let out a quiet little cry. She pressed her head back into the pillow as little sparks of electricity shot out from that point where she was completely connected to Owen, grasping at his shoulder, nails drawing down his back as her body jerked against his.
The feel of her shuddering and shattering around him was intoxicating and he kept moving. For minutes or seconds he wasn't sure but he kept moving through her pleasure before his peaked at the feel of nails on his skin, at the sound of her cry. He kept kissing her for as long as he could, trying to remember to breathe as his body pumped into hers and the orgasm spread through his body and he groaned out her name against her lips. God, that had felt amazing and it had been over all too soon for his tastes.
Marisa sighed, basking in the pleasure that came after feeling Owen come too. Sure the moving as hers soared had given her a second, smaller one but it had been swept up. Like it mattered if she got more out of it, Owen never seemed to mind. One of her hands came up to stroke his cheek when he groaned, pulling him away from her lips to look at him as her breathing started to even out again. "Owen," she murmured his name, kissing his forehead softly. "God, I missed that so, so much... are you okay?"
Was he okay? God, he felt amazing. "Yeah, baby. God, Marisa, that was incredible." Shifting his head a little, he kissed her cheek, the tip of her nose. "I missed that, I missed you." Reaching up, he smoothed out her hair and smiled down at her. She looked so beautiful, hair spread out over his pillows. It had been too long since they'd done that and he remembered the night she told him she was pregnant again, how they had spent hours in bed making love, talking, kissing, making love again. He remembered when things were simpler. But with her in his arms still, he was more than happy for the moment.
Admitting that she had missed that much and asking if he was okay may have been the most that could be expected from Marisa. Because now that it was over she could feel her thoughts whelming back up, overwhelming her. She had wanted to talk, not end up naked in Owen's bed and basking in their afterglow. "I'm... glad that you're alright," she said, shifting a little to try and get comfortable again. She knew that he loved to cuddle, that it was maybe one of his favorite parts for all she knew. They hadn't talked much after all despite what she wanted. That was a little frightening to her, that she had just fallen into bed like this and given into what her body wanted without her mind having a say. "Just like I remember."
This hadn't even entered his mind when he'd been planning for their dinner. Laying there with her in his arms, he wasn't going to deny how happy he was, but he knew they really needed to talk too. His fingers traced idle patterns on her side. "Better than I remember." Smiling softly, he watched her for a moment, feeling a little like an awkward teenager after his first time, not knowing what to say. Their bodies had missed each other, had welcomed one another back as if all those years hadn't passed between them. But their minds, their hearts, still had to catch up.
"Better..." Marisa tried the word, tasted it and nodded. Yes, she hadn't remembered very well. It was one of those things that she'd actually decided was okay to forget. But he was touching her side and she only just kept from pulling away. Her side where the scar was. But she was caught in that same awkward place. What was she supposed to say now? What was she supposed to do? "Umm... Owen, I don't know if we should have done that... I mean oh god it was amazing." Unable to resist she leaned forward and kissed him again, such a familiar feeling that her body had yearned for. "But we didn't talk much and we don't... changes, Owen. I don't know if I can just curl up and go to sleep here with you."
Her kissing him he took as a good sign, even considering what she was saying. "Maybe we shouldn't have just jumped into bed, but I'm not going to regret it." He brushed back her hair, not wanting her to leave his bed at all, not for anything. "So let's talk. Right here. Right now." Owen looked at her, arms still around her. "I want to figure this out. Obviously I still care about you." Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going through that head of yours."
"Ever the feeler," Marisa sighed, snaking one of her hands up between their bodies to rub at her eyes. "I don't know what to say. That was amazing, it really was, obviously I enjoyed myself... but feeling vulnerable around you... it scares me now. Because of what happened. We skitted around it but you saw the scar." She glanced down, taking one of his hands to slide it down and press into it. "It doesn't hurt but it did, more than just the outside... and it scares me. It really, honestly does. I'm sorry for hurting you by talking about it but that's what's going through my head."
Seeing the scar now, when his head was clear, it hurt him too. That he'd been that reckless. That he'd been that stupid and dangerous. It wasn't something he liked to think about, a time he'd rather not think about but still, it was something he'd done and there was the physical reminder. "I wish I could go back and change that, to make it so that I wasn't... that I hadn't." He paused and swallowed. "I know I can't change what I did and who I was a year ago. I just want you to know I've changed. That I'm better." Being in the bottle the way he had been had been a disease and he was still dealing with the consequences every day, now even more so that he could see it. "I felt betrayed, that you could have taken everything we had and just thrown it all away. And I didn't know what to do. Hell, I don't even remember what was going through my mind in that moment, that's how out of it I was. And I'm not using that as an excuse, I swear."
And then there was that. Her leaving and driving him to all of it. Her own personal demon of guilt to carry around and deal with because if she had not been frightened, not listened and believed everything her mother said then everything would be different. If if if. If's don't change anything and won't change the fact that I did and he did and we have to deal with what happened because of it. "I know. I could smell it on you. Sensitive nose." He would know that, having been a hunter. "Same nose can tell there's nothing alcoholic on you or I wouldn't be here. I'm glad that you're better, I really am proud of you for that." She smiled, touching his cheek. "But as much as it hurts to say it... you haven't proven that to me. Not really. I've been in your life for two days and we're in bed like we're back in college. I haven't proven to you that I'm different yet either. You keep thinking about when I left... don't you?"
He wasn't surprised he could smell it on him. Hell, you didn't have to be a were to smell it on him back then. He turned his head and brushed his lips over her wrist. She was right. He really wasn't surprised that she was either. "I do. Have every day since I realized you were alive. And I keep thinking about that night last year, when I should have let you explain but I didn't. I think about a lot of things, things that keep me going, keep me wanting to be better." It helped that he had their son as a constant reminder of why he needed to be a better man than he had been for most of his son's life. "What do you want to do?" Proving they were different, they were better, that would take time and he knew that. But that didn't mean he wanted to let her go any time soon either.
They weren't even arguing, just discussing. But she was still right and Marisa very nearly wished that she wasn't. If Owen had been honestly able to tell her that she was wrong? Then she didn't know what she would have done. "I think... that we should take time. Get to know each other again, like we are now. Dates and me seeing our son, baby steps. Not falling into bed when we're alone because we're not horny kids anymore. Like... starting over. Maybe if we start over you can forget I left and I can forget what you did. And that... starts with me going home. Well, home now here in Scarlet Oak." She smile was sadder when she kissed him, gently untangling his arms. "Which means not staying with you tonight."
She was right. Again. And this time he hated it because it meant that she was leaving. If only for the night. "Can't we start this 'start over' plan tomorrow?" he tried, knowing she would likely say no. Normally, Owen admired her strength. Now, he wished he could get her to just spend one night in his arms. But if she wanted to start over, dates, time as a family, he could do that. He would do that for her. For them. "When do you want to tell our son who you are?" he asked softly as he released her from his arms and sat up in bed. The sheets were rumbled and he prayed to God, they'd smell like her for the night. He missed her scent.
God, she wanted to. But the larger part of her, the sensible part knew that she wouldn't sleep the whole night through. She'd be antsy and possibly wake frightened when she realized where she was. Because Marisa had meant it when she said that she was nervous with him still. Yes they'd had sex and that was definitely a vulnerable thing but sleeping? Putting it simply, she was not ready. "Sorry sweetheart, but no." Glancing around she managed to find her underwear and jeans, pulling them back on before realizing that her bra and shirt were still downstairs. "I think... you know him better. Would he take it well soon? And are you going to walk me out like a good date or make me find my way on my own?"