Who: Molly Clifton and Ethan Shaw What: Plotting. Sexy plotting. Where: Ethan’s mansion in Hollywood, California. When: Early evening, Thursday, March 24, 2011. Warnings: ... See ‘what.’ Hard R, baby. Hard R.
Molly had given up a long time ago trying to figure out why sex with Ethan was so good. At first, it had bothered her – bothered her more than anything had her whole life. No man in the entire universe had the right to make her feel this way, but he did. Every single time. At first she’d thought it had to be one thing about him, one unnameable, perfect thing that made him completely unique, but that wasn’t true at all. It was everything. The way he touched her. The way he worshiped her without trying to be romantic. The way he never held himself back. The many ways they snuck around, and the many ways they came together. The way neither of them was afraid to hate each other and love each other at the same time. The way they got so lost in each other that they forgot who was Molly and who was Ethan. Who was Cathy, who was Heathcliff. She hated that they were the ultimate cliche, but at least they were the original one. They completed each other, in the best and worst ways imaginable.
He really, really had no right to do this to her, but at the same time he had every right, which explained why he never bothered to ask for permission anymore. Today wasn’t supposed to have happened, but they met by chance at the studio, and twenty minutes later they were here, naked in Ethan’s bed, desperate for their fix. That had been... hours ago. The first time she’d tried to say she should leave, he shut her up with a kiss; the second time, she didn’t even try to say anything – he just looked at her, and she stayed right where she was. There hadn’t been a third time. Not yet. Not while they were both being greedy.
Back arching and muscles tensing, Molly let out a strained but powerful shriek as he made her come once again. If she’d been able to think as the waves rolled through her, she would’ve decided that it was his tongue, it was definitely, definitely his tongue that made him so special, and that was why she couldn’t live without him anymore. But she couldn’t think – she couldn’t even breathe. It was all she could do to let it pass, relishing in the sensation as her body throbbed and then, finally, relaxed. She felt like she’d just been electrocuted. It was so painful, but so undeniably euphoric at the same time. How did he do that, the bastard? “I hate you so much,” she gasped, chest still heaving breathlessly as she tried to recover. “Every time. You murder me every time.” The fingers entwined in his hair tightened, nails digging slightly into his scalp. A tender sort of punishment. “Stop that.”
---
Ethan chuckled low in his throat, taking a moment to keep the smirk from taking over his face as he looked up at her, his scalp tingling from where she’d been pulling on his hair. She hated his all-knowing smirks, and he knew it. Rarely did that stop Ethan, which should come as no surprise to anybody. He got a sick sort of pleasure out of pissing her off just like she did him, but almost more then that he got an even greater pleasure out of simply pleasuring her. It was a toss up for him, normally, but right now he was too spent to put that much energy into getting her worked up in any other way other then how he’d been working her up over the past few hours now.
By now you would think what they’d been doing had become nothing more then a boring routine, but you would be entirely wrong. Even when they planned on it, all their clandestine meetings were nothing but thrills and excitement. Only Molly could do that to him. He always got bored. Always. But not with her. Not with his Molly, Heathcliff’s Cathy. He couldn’t get enough of her. He knew it, she knew it, but that didn’t matter because she felt the same way. He knew that too. It was the best when it wasn’t planned. When they just saw each other from across a room or down a hallway and had to have each other now or not at all. It was that kind of raw, animal passion that rivaled even Cathy and Heathcliff’s passion for each other.
Surpassed it even, because unlike them, Ethan and Molly weren’t afraid to cross their own lines. And cross them again and again and again, until they were both too sore to even speak. Ethan didn’t care that Molly already had a husband. Heathcliff had pushed Cathy away for giving herself to Linton, but Ethan couldn’t care less how many times her dumb ass husband had fucked her. Molly was his, she always had been, and nothing on this earth could change that. Everything in her, down to her very soul. He owned it and she owned his. That was how this worked. Still with a small grin on his face, he finally raised himself from in between Molly’s beautiful legs and pulled himself up to align his body with hers, taking a moment to wipe his mouth on the pillow behind her head before leaning down and placing a generous kiss on the slope of her neck. “Love hurts, baby.”
---
Upon feeling his lips on her skin again, Molly let out a bright laugh that, toward the end of it, somehow turned into a purr as she angled her body into his, coiling an arm around his lower back. They were both hot and sweaty – almost feverish, in fact – which was something that always repulsed Molly with other men, but never with Ethan. Truth be told, she adored every inch of his body, whether it was squeaky clean, radiating sex, or somewhere in between. She loved it all, but most of she loved that it was hers and no one else’s. No one could take Ethan away from her, just like no one could take her away from Ethan. Neither of them would ever allow that.
Technically, of course, legally, she belonged to another man, but that was simply an annoyance, nothing more. Or so she tried to convince herself. She never liked George, but she hated him a little more day by day, simply because he wasn’t Ethan. Even on his best days, her husband was nothing compared to her Ethan. The only thing remaining to give him any importance in her life was the fact that he was the only thing separating the two of them anymore. Which irked her, of course, but not enough to stop what she was doing with Ethan behind George’s back, or even to bring it to George’s attention. She liked the way things were. She liked the danger, the excitement, the way it made them come to each other wildly and with reckless abandon. She had no reason to change anything. Not yet.
“Doesn’t it just,” she cooed softly, angling her head to the side to gently bite at the skin just below his ear. But her eyes were distant now, pondering, glancing around the room until the glint of the ring on her finger caught her gaze, and her eyes hardened. Damn that ring. Maybe it irked her more than she thought. “It’s not real if it doesn’t hurt.” Her breath was hot on his skin, and one hand went back into his hair again, holding him close. “And I know how much it hurts me, but... how much does it hurt you?”
---
Ethan was perfectly happy to let her keep him there as long as she wanted. He certainly had no qualms with staying molded against her excruciatingly perfect, naked form. They were both damp with each other’s sweat and it was all too easy to slide into a more comfortable position, lifting and dragging his lean physique lazily over hers and settling into her side. She was right. She was always right, though he never said as much. Couldn’t give her that kind of satisfaction now could he. Still. He didn’t disagree with her either. It was only real if you felt it, right down in your very bones and in every place that was inconvenient for it to be. Lodged painfully in your gut, in your throat. That’s where Molly had him. By the throat. And he wouldn’t have it any other way, even if he never said as much. She knew he practically worshipped the ground she walked on, there was no need to make it evident with words. He’d much rather show her.
He settled into her side with a heavy sigh, draping half his body and an arm over her as he fit his face into the crook of her neck and bit at the skin only a little gently. That was another thing he loved about Molly. She didn’t mind not being handled gently. “There isn’t a name for how much it hurts me.” He spoke in a somber tone, and mostly into her neck so the sound vibrated against her skin. He was rarely serious with her outside of being in the throws, but sometimes. Sometimes he couldn’t stop his inner Heathcliff from peeking through. Underneath all the sarcasm and petty vengeance, he really did hate that he had to share Molly with someone else. If he had it his way, he wouldn’t be. If he had it his way, George fucking Hardy wouldn’t even be in the damn picture. If he had it his way...
---
Molly’s breath hitched when he bit her, and she closed her eyes, savoring the pain. If there was one thing she hated, it was when a man treated her like she was breakable; Ethan knew that, and he never did. Like Cathy and Heathcliff, perhaps even because of them, they were a special kind of masochist. It’s not real if it doesn’t hurt. Her own words echoed inside her head, haunting her, making her regret for the first time in her entire life. Sort of. She didn’t regret marrying George. No, she regretted something else. The one thing that kept her from divorcing him, that one annoying little detail. If she had to do it all over again, she’d do it all the same – except for that.
She let him settle into her and adjusted accordingly, molding her hips with his and wrapping her arms around him, one hand on his shoulder blade, the other just above his glorious ass. His body was incredible, divine – a perfect match for hers. Both of them worked hard to look this good, and it was moments like these that proved it was worth it. They were beautiful. A vain thought, perhaps, but as she stroked his shoulder gently, completely aware of every inch of him that was touching her, it was also completely true. They were meant to be beautiful together, and not with anyone else.
“Me too.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but her mind was going a mile a minute. Maybe she was sicker of this than she though. Sick of being shared. Every fiber of her being belonged to Ethan. None of her belonged to George. “Baby,” she continued tentatively, giving his head a quick kiss before moving her head back to look at him closely. “If you could, if you had to, what would you do to have me – all of me? How far would you go?”
---
Ethan’s brow furrowed and his face clouded over at the thoughts that immediately went through his head at Molly’s question. Some part of him knew that she knew she didn’t even need to ask. She knew his mind instead and out, as anyone who was in his thoughts so constantly would know. But no one was in his thoughts so constantly as Molly was so it was just her. Always and only her. She should know without question that he would do absolutely anything to keep her. Anything. He was tired of sharing her with a man who had no right to even breathe the same air as her.
This, this was why he’d tried so hard not to fall into her arms in the beginning. He had known without a doubt that this is what would happen. That, like Cathy did to Heathcliff, Molly would completely consume him. His every thought, his every movement. Everything. He wouldn’t just be Ethan anymore, because she’d be in there with him. Carving out a space for herself in his insides. He’d managed to avoid her for a good long while, but then that week had happened where Heathcliff and Cathy had taken over... The morning Ethan and Molly had woken up to themselves again and in charge of their own bodies, they’d woken up together on the Moors. After that, there was no use pretending anymore. They’d claimed each other, body and soul, every day since and there was no turning back now. Not from this. And he didn’t want to.
He thought about her question for a long moment, or at least he pretended to. He really didn’t need to give it much thought, or any thought at all, so instead he took a moment of silence to really think about the gravity of what he was about to say. Ethan didn’t give most of the things he said much thought, he usually just talked out of his ass and didn’t much care how they sounded to other people. But not this. This meant more then probably either of them were ready for, but he was going to say it anyway. He tilted his head away away from her neck to look up at her after a few seconds, placing a possessive kiss to her shoulder while keeping his eyes locked on hers before he spoke. “There’s not a thing I wouldn’t do, Moll. Just name your price.”
---
She knew his answer before she even finished asking her question. Of course she did. All of this, it was unspoken, simply because it had to be. Whenever they brought up her little predicament, usually it was only to spite each other. At first, Molly had enjoyed lording the fact that she was married over Ethan, taunting and challenging him simultaneously, never letting him forget that she could have been his, if only he’d found her sooner. But their fight at the Oscars had changed that. Made her realize that if she kept pushing him away, Ethan could turn around and hurt her just as badly, maybe even worse, by pulling a Heathcliff and marrying somebody else. Somebody prettier than her, wittier than her, younger than her. The prospect was terrifying and all too easily imaginable, but Cathy would sooner die than allow that to happen to her twice. And Molly felt the same way. It could be different this time. It would be different.
She took a deep breath and shuddered as he kissed her, her skin hot where his lips had claimed it, almost as if he’d branded her. “My price,” she repeated in a vague murmur. An idea was already forming in her mind, but whether it was brilliant or completely foolish, it was too early to tell. There were so many potential solutions, but only one would give them both what they wanted. These were difficult waters, but Molly wasn’t stupid, and she’d stop at nothing to cast off her chains and secure the freedom both she and Ethan deserved. What happened to anyone else was immaterial, so long as she got that.
After a moment, she finally caught his gaze again, looking at him evenly, calmly in spite of the turmoil that was brewing inside. Her eyes were cold, yet blazing with determination. They were unstoppable, the two of them. She was more sure of that than she was of her own name. No one would be able to keep them away from each other. Not anymore. She brought a finger to his lips, tracing them tenderly as one leg came out from under his to coil around him possessively. “We have to get rid of him,” she said simply, the hint of a mysterious smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “Soon, my love. We have to get rid of him soon.”
---
Truth be told, Ethan probably would have pulled a stunt like that. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. Maybe he would have a long time ago, but not now. As petty and vengeful as he was, just like Heath, he was too caught up in this now to try and get even with her for marrying someone before she even knew him. And the idea of marrying anyone who wasn’t Molly Clifton made him feel more than a little nauseous, he wasn’t willing to go there for the sake of revenge. He’d go plenty of other places, but not there, and he’d long since moved past the urge to punish her for this. Now he just wanted to punish her disgusting pig of a husband for taking what was rightfully his. He’d only brought the twins with him to the Oscars to prove a point to Molly, that no matter how tight of a hold she had on him she couldn’t hurt him, but he’d failed miserably just as she had. Who were they kidding? She was the only person on this earth who could hurt him, and he her. You always hurt the one you love. That was a motto that all great lovers lived by, and they were no exception from the rule, just like their reincarnates.
Perhaps, if Ethan actually cared, he would stop and seriously consider just how much they were following in their reincarnates foot steps and for all intent and purpose, letting them rule their lives. Heathcliff and Cathy’s sense of ownership over each other eventually led them both to their deaths, but he didn’t care. He knew that even without Heathcliff and Cathy in the picture, this would have ended up the same. He knew that now. He’d had his doubts, but now the idea of being apart from her for any amount of time was so unbearable that he couldn’t think straight. Every bit of her was something he loved, inside and out, and not just the parts of her that were Cathy. He loved her passion as much as he loved her wickedness. He loved the softness of her skin in such a way that every time he thought about it, he had to reach out and touch it. Touch some part of her. As she curled into him more, the arm around her traveled down the slope of her back, trailing fingers down her spine. He loved her, even if he never said it. He knew she loved him too, but it was something they never spoke about. They were both far too proud.
Ethan held her gaze for as long as he could bear it. Her sharp eyes were as capable of entrancing him and holding him in place as they were of melting his skin off, that was the sheer power of her stare. He admired it. He couldn’t get enough of it, just like everything else about her and he wanted it all to be his. Only his. No other man had the right to come near such devastating beauty. The hand on her back traveled further down to smooth over the leg she’d just wrapped around him, fingers coming to grip her thigh with the tension of a cat that was ready to pounce at any moment. “Agreed. Got any bright ideas in that brilliant head of yours yet?”