Chapter Text
Colin woke in complete darkness, and familiar pain found him, if it ever left. He had been dreaming of Penelope, as was typical, but this one had ripped him open particularly aggressively. She had been just here, in his arms. A simple dream, in comparison to his usual ones; just a mix of terror, despair and need.
He woke with tears streaming down his face, his limbs still warm from where he had felt Pen’s body entwined with his. He daredn’t move, lest the cold air cleanse the trace of her memory from his skin. The ache in his chest was heavy, so heavy it brought him to the depths of hell itself. He had never known a pain like this existed. How could it exist, and how were people expected to survive it? If he didn’t live for the hope of seeing her again, he was sure he would have given up long ago.
As the fog cleared, he tried to remember where he was. An inn somewhere, he supposed. He felt heavy, stiff, like he’d slept heavier than he had in months, years. Which was…odd. Lately, his sleep felt less like slumber and more like extraordinarily long blinks. Small pauses in reality, though not in suffering. Just a change in the form it took.
He breathed in and he could smell her.
He was going insane, perhaps. He didn’t really have time for that. He wriggled his nose and flinched when hair tickled it.
Hair. Smell. Warmth.
It took some time for him to realise he was not alone. His arms were wrapped around a soft body, face buried in a mess of hair. He did not need light to see who these parts belonged to. He would know her anywhere. Even if he had never held her when they danced, never sneaked sniffs of her hair when she passed him, he would know her, he was sure. Even if he’d never met her. His soul would recognise hers, like a key sliding perfectly into a lock. Clunk. There you are. I’ve been waiting for you.
He felt his heart speed up as he realised she was actually here, in his arms. She was here, in his arms. He forced himself not to move, lest he wake her. All he wished to do was pull her tighter still. Kiss her until they suffocate.
The day before came back to him in parts, accompanied by joy and pain in equal portions. Seeing her. Seeing her so broken. Holding her. Holding her together. Explaining to her how she was loved. Seeing her not believe it. Telling her he loved her. Watching her finally understand. Hearing that, she, somehow, felt the same. He was waking from the best sleep he’d had in years, and yet he’d never been more concerned he might awaken.
Yesterday - or earlier today? He had no idea what time it was - he had understood, finally, what it was to make sense of the world. And now he was scared, so afraid, that this was not real. That it was a cruel joke, or could be taken away somehow. But quietly in his gut, if he pushed past the butterflies rampaging in there, he also realised he knew. All along.
He knew he would find her.
He knew he loved her.
And he knew she would be with him.
Because how could it not be? Why would he have been blessed with so much love, only to have nowhere for it to go? It was made for her. Not for him to feel, but for her to use and bask in and heal with and enjoy. He was but a vessel for it, and she a lighthouse, guiding him home.
He was hers, and so he would always find her.
She was his, and so she would always wait for him.
It was miraculous. It was divine. It was otherworldly
And yet, it felt delicate, fragile. Dissolvable. Because such perfection could only be inevitable or nonexistent. Panic fluttered in his chest even as he felt Pen’s breath against the skin there. He focused on the feeling, the ways he could feel the hairs move with each warm puff of an exhale. Felt how her skin was so soft and so warm against his, he honestly could not tell where the two of them separated. Perhaps they didn't. He was hard, because how could he not be? But it was inconsequential, really. He needed her, wanted her. But it was secondary. She was here; that was all he needed, ever.
In his arms, Penelope moved in her sleep, making a small sound.
It was incredible. She was really here. Living and breathing next to him. He wished he could see her, but it was too dark; all he could make out was the dark outline of her, softly rising and falling with each breath.
She shifted again, and he gently ran his hand over her back, hoping to soothe her, but she let out a whimper, and he felt his chest twist at the sound. He rubbed her back, pulling her closer. She must be having a bad dream. It took everything in him not to burst into tears at the thought of all the nightmares she must have had here, alone, with no one to soothe her, hold her.
“Colin.”
It came out as a sob, and for a moment he thought she had woken, but she murmured something else and he realised she had said his name in her sleep, soft cries falling from her lips with each exhale. She was crying in her sleep. His heart was breaking all over again, and all he could do was hold her, murmuring in her ear.
“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here. It’s okay”
Suddenly, Pen jolted in his arms with a sharp intake of breath, and she sat up. He loosened his grip immediately, not wanting her to feel trapped, but kept a hand on her back. He sensed more than saw her looking around frantically, trying to remember where she was, her breath coming in choked sobs. It took everything in him not to bring her back into his arms, but she had been alone so long. Her whole life, really. He didn’t want to overwhelm her, especially when she was so disoriented.
She was crying in earnest now, and he gently brought his other hand to her arm.
He felt her jump, the cool breeze of her hair as she turned her hair around quickly.
“Colin?”
“I’m here, my love.”
He felt her hands grasping, reaching for him, and he shuffled closer, enveloping her in his arms once more. He could practically feel the relief emanating from her, and she clung to him, running her hands over his chest and arms, in his hair. She found his face and used it to guide her lips to his, crashing into him in a kiss that was neither gentle nor reserved.
For a moment, he was shocked, but then he understood. He understood because he had woken from sleep like that so many times. Completely afraid, desperate. Lost. And how many times had he hoped against hope that he would wake up in her arms instead? Could he say he would do anything differently, as relief surged through his blood and joy threatened to stop his breathing?
He understood because he had been content to be here with her, had been happy to be as close as possible. To put all thoughts other than making sure she was okay from his mind.
But now she was here, kissing him, and that part of him that had rumbled like a beast ever since it had awakened, hungry and untamed, roared in triumph and relief at the feeling of her lips against his. Sustenance at last.
He pulled her to him, his lips moving on hers like he might absorb her if he tried hard enough. It was everything, but somehow still more than what he had hoped. Her lips; soft, her taste; sweet and rich, and still salty from tears. He wanted to consume her whole. He tried desperately to remind himself that she was inexperienced, but she was crawling into his lap like a wild creature, and he was helpless to do anything other than take and take and take as she gave and gave and gave. He plunged his tongue in her mouth, hands tangling in her hair as he kissed her and kissed her. She whimpered, her hands in his hair now, gripping and pulling. He felt her smooth bottom sliding against his hardness, and he felt feral, as if he could take her like an animal.
He let his hands wander down her back, around her front. He kneaded her breasts, squeezing and tweaking, and she whined and gasped, arching in his arms as he groaned in need. Holding her by the waist, he turned them so he could lay her down again, panting with restraint as every cell begged him to touch and kiss and be with her every way a man could be with a woman.
Looking down at her, he could make out her hair on the pillow under her head, could see the low light sparkle in her eyes. Could hear her ragged breathing, matching his own. He settled himself beside her on his side, his face close to hers.
He could feel her gaze on him, even in the dark, and he dropped his face to hers, needing to be close to her, even during this brief respite.
They lay, faces near, breathing heavily for a moment, his hand on her soft belly.
“Pen, I-”
She did not even let him finish his thought.
“I want you, Colin.”
He swallowed. Did she even know what she was asking?
“Pen, I want you as well, but-”
Again, she cut him off.
“I know, I haven’t done anything like this before, but I still know of it. Of how a man can be with a woman. And I want that. I’ve dreamed of nothing else.”
Colin bit his lip to hold back his groan, the animal part of him threatening to take over once more.
“Me neither, darling girl. But it may hurt.”
He saw her nod vaguely in the dark blue.
“I know, Colin. I still want it. I need it, I think.” Her voice was shaky with desire, and he recognised it in the roughness of his own. It was incredible that even parted, without truly knowing how the other felt, they had been intertwined by longing for the other. Even without each other, their hearts beat in unison, nonetheless, it seemed.
He leaned down and pressed his lips gently to hers, feeling his body responding immediately. Even as he savoured her, one breath of her scent at a time, his blood roared to life.
He lay his body over hers, her softness yielding to him immediately. Propping himself up on his elbows so as not to crush her, he kissed her firmly, years of longing pouring into her from him.
He gently ran his hand down her side, feeling her silky skin, and he felt his eyes close at the sensation. She was here, she was real, she was his.
“I am yours”
She whispered it, and he opened his eyes, realising he must have spoken these thoughts aloud. He could not bring himself to feel anything but glad. She should know.
“And I am yours.”
His hand reached her hip, and he trailed it gently to her curls, his breath coming in pants as he traced his fingers over her mound. Below him, he could hear her keen softly, need evident in her voice. When his fingers dipped into her folds, she was wet and warm, and he kissed her hard to channel his need, his lust for her.
“Pen. Love.” He could only whisper words of awe to her, and she moaned back, hips beginning to move, seeking out friction. He slid to her entrance and gently swirled the wetness there, spreading it around. He couldn’t believe it. He had dreamt of this moment a thousand times or more, and never was she this perfect, this responsive and bright, even in the dark.
He slid one finger in and out of her gently, taking his time even as his hand shook from want. She moved beneath him beautifully, instinctively riding out each movement as though she was made to take him. She was gloriously tight, and the thought of entering her fully made him bite his lip so hard it hurt.
He used his thumb to brush her clit, and groaned when she bucked and cried out beneath him. He did it again, watching the sparks of her eyes flutter with each new sensation. Needing to feel her fall apart, he slid in one more finger, and fucked her gently, his palm bumping against her nub with each thrust.
“Colin, I-”
“Yes, my love. I know, let go for me.”
“I love you.” It was frantic, and he felt his hips buck at the sound of those words on her lips, interspersed with breathless moans.
“I love you, Penelope. Fuck, I love you so much”
He moved faster and her form arched under him, head falling back as she moaned, long and loud, her cunt pulsing around his hand, wetness spilling onto it. He groaned, wishing there was light so he could see her properly, wet and pink. Unable to resist he moved down her body, finding her cunt and licking up the slick he found there, causing her to shout his name and grip his hair as she fluttered around his tongue.
He lapped at her greedily, needing every drop. He drank it in, sucking, licking, inhaling her as she bucked under him, oversensitised. He should stop, check on her, perhaps. But she was gripping his hair, pulling and pushing him deeper, closer, and he did not need more encouragement. All there was Penelope, and he lost himself in her scent, her taste, her ocean.
Losing track of time, he was surprised when he felt her clench around him once more, and he moaned into her, deepening and lengthening her orgasm any way he could.
As the tremors subsided, he pulled back, panting, and made his way back up to her once more. He gathered her in his arms, and she was shaking. He stroked her hair as she came down, wiping tears and murmuring against her temple. He felt like he might be going mad, so consumed by love for her, and realising he could always, always be the one to bring her back down to earth. Hold her, keep her safe. She would never be alone again.
He felt fresh sobs shake her and pulled her close.
“Is…is it real? Colin, I’m so scared.” She clung to him so tightly that it broke his heart, and he felt her fear because it lived in him too.
“Me too, Pen. But it’s real. It has to be. I promise.”
He felt her move even closer.
“You’re scared, too?”
He nearly laughed.
“Penelope, I have been terrified the moment I saw the Queen’s guard come to your door. I don’t think you understand. For two years, I have missed you, craved you, woken in tears to find you not by my side. And now, I can touch you, taste you, feel you. And I am still afraid, because what if this is just another dream?”
“What if it is?”
For a moment, they sat together in the dark, logic telling them that this was real. It had to be. But it had not been long since these dreams had been so real they had both woken to heartbreak, over and over again.
Colin swallowed.
“Well…I suppose. We shall just have to make the most of this dream, then, if it is one.”
Penelope laughed, a small one, sodden with tears. And then she was finding his face once more, and they were kissing like they might wake up at any moment.
And Colin knew, realistically, that it was silly to pretend such a thing. But it slowed his frantic heart, somehow. Because he did not know how long he would need before he would believe it, how many mornings he would wake, distraught, until he realised Penelope was indeed by his side. Because it was all so close to not being real, wasn’t it?
If Whistledown had never been found out.
If Rae had never spoken to him on that dreary day in Featherington House.
If he had not found her at all.
So he kissed her like she might slip between his fingers, even though it made him panic to even think of such a thing. But it was somehow easier than believing this might be true. It was too much to comprehend.
When she licked his lips, he nibbled on hers, and when she whispered that she loved him, he whispered it back. There was nothing he would not do. What if this night was all they had?
Laying them down once more, he scattered kisses across her face, licking tears away and nuzzling his nose against hers. He caressed her, every inch he could find, kissing her neck, shoulders and breasts. He felt her learning him with her hands, her mouth. Her lips were soft, her bite sharp as she explored his throat, his chest, his arms. They were tangled, and in the darkness, it felt like they were under warm water, no sense of up or down or where each particle began or ended. It did not reassure Colin, because it was perfect, surreal. Just like a dream would be.
Hoping he might sear her onto his body if he pressed hard enough, he dug his fingers into her flesh, sucked marks into her skin that he could not see but he would use as proof in the daylight that this was a continuation of reality. He savoured the feel of her hair strands, the softness of her upper arms, and the taste of her teeth. Little details he could take with him into the morning, whether it brought him a brand new heaven or a familiar hell.
He nudged himself against her, lining up, and her needy whine sent him mad. He pushed forward gently, slowly, her tightness taking his breath away. When he reached her innocence, he stopped, kissing her softly, languidly, before pushing forward, her sharp intake of breath making his stomach drop yet his heart hammer at once. And then he was inside her, up to the hilt, and she was moaning under him, reaching for him, clawing at him, drawing him closer.
He took a moment to breathe, needing to focus so he did not spill in her immediately. Once he was sure he had a hold of himself, he slowly drew himself back, and the drag was so exquisite he dropped his head to her shoulder. When he slid back in, he groaned, the feeling like coming home, like the feeling he had when he stood on the rise over the village the day prior. Like the feeling he had when he saw her, soaking wet in her entryway. The feeling of looking into her eyes when she told him that she loved him, that she always had. The feeling of their first kiss. It felt like that, only much, much more. Tears ran down his face as he began to move, and found her lips once more, their tears mingling in their mouths, sighs and sobs and gasps spilling from each breath.
He wrapped her in his arms, enveloping her as he moved within her, and he did not think they could be closer, even as he tried to drive deeper, to press into her more completely. She whimpered beneath him, murmuring his name over and over, her hands on his back and shoulders, caressing his arms and face in turn.
He felt her start to tighten around her even as the burn in his stomach became nearly unbearable. He maintained his pace, making sure to roll each thrust so her nub was bumped each time, her cries coming closer and closer together as she reached her peak once more. Colin followed her, losing control as she keened in his mouth, unwilling to part for even a moment. He groaned as he bucked once, twice more, and emptied inside her, buried so deeply within her he was sure perhaps they were not two people at all, but one, complete, inevitable entity.
His arms shaking, he tipped to one side, rolling her with him so he did not have to remove himself from her warmth. He held her close, even as he softened inside her, fighting sleep as he caught his breath, exhaustion tugging at him as he felt Penelope’s body relax, also falling into sleep.
“Colin…”
“Pen…” he whispered back; she did not need to say anything, he understood. He felt the same.
He kissed her lips firmly, hand on her face, her nose, her cheeks. His head dropped to the pillow against his will, and he felt hers loll against her shoulder.
He floated in the peace, powerless to stop sleep from taking him, even as dread pulled at his stomach. With his last thought, he tried to memorise the way Penelope felt in his arms, and prayed to every deity that she would be there when the daylight came.
Sunlight awoke Colin, just as he thought it might. Rays filtered through the curtains that were never closed, and dust particles hovered in the yellow light above the bed. He lay on his back, eyes adjusting slowly. The pain in his chest had not alleviated, and this time he remembered where he was instantly, as though he had been holding his fear in his stomach all night while he slept. For the first time in months, he could not remember what he had dreamt of.
Even though he knew immediately that the ceiling was not his own, and recognised the drab panelling as that of the cottage he found himself in yesterday, he still held his breath as he tilted his head down to look at the face only inches from his, and wiggled his fingers to touch the sleeping form in his arms. The relief made him want to cry once more, and he wondered how many mornings he would wake like this. Perhaps always. And that was alright with him. May he never forget what a miracle it was to have found her, lost her, and then found her again.
As though sensing his awareness, Penelope stirred in his arms, and this time she did not startle awake. Instead, she slowly fluttered her eyelashes adorably, and squinted up at him, studying him for a moment before sighing and snuggling deeper into his embrace. He smiled, happiness threatening to sweep him away the way despair nearly had so many times before. Love seemed to be little more than one weather event after another, in his limited experience. But he supposed that with time, the skies would clear. He did not mind it in the slightest, as it was, the rain so refreshing and life-giving, he wanted to open his mouth to the sky and let each drop fall on his tongue.
They lay there for a moment, all fears of what was real and what was not dispelled with the coming of morning.
Colin felt his stomach rumble, and Penelope looked at him with wide eyes.
“Colin, you have not eaten since you’ve been here!”
Colin laughed, realising she was right.
“I forgot,” he answered simply. He could not have thought of anything less important in all honesty.
Penelope was still staring at him, dumbfounded. Concern crossed her face.
“I’m afraid I may not have enough for you to eat. I only have a small portion of bread and cheese in the cupboard…and acorns. John is due to arrive today with more, though.”
She chewed her lip and Colin watched, mesmerised. Here they were, discussing breakfast like his entire shattered world had not been completely repaired in less than a day. More than that. It was revived, it was invigorated. It was brand new. It bordered on ridiculous.
“John gave me plenty of food when he brought me here, I put it away while I waited for you and forgot about it. It will be perfect.” He squeezed her tight. He needed to eat. But he also needed to hold Penelope, perhaps forever, so there was a predicament. Then he frowned.
“Penelope, have you been eating acorns?”
She snorted, and he grinned at the sound. That was his sound now, he decided.
“No, things aren’t quite that grim,” Her smile, her smile, her smile. “But there are some deer I’ve made friends with, and I like to keep some for the winter when things are harder for them.”
The giddiness was replaced with awe. At his Penelope, caring for others when she had so little herself. Of his Penelope, collecting acorns and keeping them next to her own food, saving them for cold days when she should likely not leave the cottage at all. His Penelope, interacting with the very animal that made him understand just how hopelessly and ridiculously in love with her he was. He took a breath, trying not to give away his excitement at the revelation.
“Deer, you say? Are they not rather skittish?”
Pen looked at him thoughtfully, thinking about his question.
“I suppose so, but I wish them no harm. I am patient, I have nowhere else to be. They have learnt I am safe to be around. I think that anything can be loved if it feels safe enough.” She shrugs even as he feels the lump in his throat.
He brushed a tendril of red hair from her face.
“Are there fawns?”
She smiles, eyes brightening.
“Yes, a few every spring so far. They are beautiful and so precious. I fear for them at times, they are so vulnerable, you know?” Concern crossed her perfect face, and he dropped a kiss in her hair as he hummed in agreement. He did know.
In his mind, he made one more promise. As long as he lived, she would never feel anything but safe.
“I love you, Penelope,” he murmured into her temple, wondering if he said it enough times whether it would be enough for her to understand just how much he did. In his arms, she sighed happily.
“I love you, Colin. So much.”
Perhaps they would stay there a little longer. He was patient, and he had nowhere else to be.