I miss residing in this headspace…
Came for the Low
Wedding Chapter NSFW
The tiny bedroom above the restaurant was bathed in golden morning light that crept in through the window and lay in a warm haze over the two bodies moving slowly under the sheet.
Shutting his eyes, Zemo sighed deeply and slid his hand behind his head, cradling it with a smile. He was completely relaxed in spite of his racing heart.
With his free hand the Baron reached and smoothed his palm over the curve of his wife's head under the white linen and opened his mouth with a light gasp followed by a laugh. She was teasing him.
He'd been woken up by the feel of her warm tongue, soft and wet as she sucked him into her mouth and now she was moaning softly as he filled her, growing until he was fully erect and gently thrusting, sinking into the feel of her full lips stretched around the width of him.
Her small hand pressed against his thigh as she sucked, the other gripping the base, working in tandem with her mouth, increasing the rhythm the more tense he got.
It would not take him long, one look down and he caught a glimpse of her under the sheet, cheeks hollow as she bobbed her head, the soft brown skin of her hand in contrast to his own, her hair was all over the place and tickling his stomach. He wanted to grab her breast but didn't dare move, so instead he raised his chin, his head sinking into the pillow as he thought of the way they looked when she sat on him, bouncing in perfect unison, her dark nipples begging to be sucked and licked and...
Zemo's hand came down on her head, pushing until she gave a muffled yelp, but he held her firm. With a final sigh, the tension gave way and he went rigid holding his breath as the first warm rush shot down her throat—her moaning against his sensitive skin making the release into her mouth all the sweeter.
He could feel her swallowing each time he throbbed which only made him want to come all over again, but there was no hope in drawing it out. With a final powerful pulse, he finished and exhaled with a shaking smile.
Christine was wet and aching for attention as she drank him in. Zemo would of course return the favor with enthusiasm, but for now she'd enjoyed making him feel good.
Knowing how he responded to touch afterwards, she pulled away slowly, listening to the way he moaned again as her teeth and tongue very lightly graze the length of his still solid member until she let him fall free and sat up, running her fingers along the corners of her mouth and over her bottom lip.
She sat there looking quite pleased with herself, that smug little grin making him chuckle. The sheet lay over her hair like a veil reminding him of last night.
His bride...
Zemo reached and ran his hand down her arm, gently gathering her fingers into his own hand.
"Good morning husband" She said, her whisper soft voice tickling his ears.
He gazed at her with the sun shining around her head like a halo. "Good morning wife."
"Sleep well?" She asked rising up to sit on her heels.
Zemo gave a lazy laugh, exhausted from the orgasm and shook his head a little. "No, too much orujo"
"Oh you and Gael are wild!" She laughed too. "But so cute."
"Cute?"
"Yes. Like two puppies." She grinned.
He pretend to not like this but shrugged. "I am—cute—yes, I know." He winked.
Christine snickered shaking her head at him. "I thought I might loose you to him at one point. You two are quite a pair." She teased and he groaned, grabbing her arm to pull her down on top of him.
He took her face in hand, pulling her into a kiss. Her lips tasted like him. He moaned a little remembering the feel of that mouth on his cock which was threatening to rise again. She could work wonders on him without even trying...his bride, his wife. "How are you feeling?" He asked when she raised up. He tucked her hair behind her ear and pinched her chin between his thumb and index like he always did.
"Well enough to wake you." She said wiggling her brows at him. "No sickness yet today...oh! I hope I didn't just jinx it."
Zemo sighed and laid his arm over his eyes. "I should have followed your lead. No drinking." He said amused but angry with himself for overdoing it, but how could he not? The night had been completely perfect. Yes, he'd been married before but this was different. There had been an energy around them that filled the village with a sort of magic that does not happen everyday.
What they'd shared was special and no matter the outcome, he would carry the memory of marrying this woman with him, like a homing beacon, bringing him back to center when all else spun out of control...
~Wearing her flowing suit from the little shop in Malaga and a traditional Spanish veil gifted to her by Gael’s wife, Christine clutched the small bouquet of pink and burgundy flowers from the local florist as she walked down the steps, leaving the tiny apartment above to enter the restaurant’s courtyard, where Zemo stood waiting.
He watched as she came into view, white heels taking the steep incline slowly, her pants flowing light as air around her legs and a thin silk camisole under the draped jacket, both in that same bright ivory.
Christine was radiant, but the unexpected sight of her face framed in the scalloped lace stopped his heart. On flat ground, she looked up, her sparkling black eyes finding his and the man nearly forgot to breathe. Tears pooled, wavering in his eyes as she came to him—his second chance…
Gael and Luisa stood back, watching from the kitchen doorway with wide knowing smiles, and very quietly turned to go back inside leaving them to it.
“Hi.” Christine whispered sounding small and nervous as she waited to hear what he thought. She’d never really been the sort to imagine her wedding day, it had never occurred to her that she would have one, but now that it was here she hoped the Baron liked the way she looked as much as she truly did.
Zemo exhaled a shaking breath through his parted lips in disbelief that she was his.
“Hello,” He replied wanting to touch her but was too afraid that she would break she was such a delicate thing, but then he smiled remembering that this was the same woman capable of taking out assassins three times her size and his face relaxed as he pitied all the men on the receiving end of her wrath. “You’re beautiful.” He said simply, but she heard the many layers of love beneath the word and tucked her chin with a shy smile.
Zemo raised his elbow, offering her his arm which she took and smiled up at him. “You look incredible too.” She said nudging him.
He chuckled as he wiped at his eyes, escorting her to the carved gate.
She meant it. He hadn’t shaved in a few days and the resulting shadow was lovely. His parted hair was a beautiful mop of perfectly coifed dark brown that she would run her fingers through later tonight. The jacket and pants he wore —a few shades darker than his hair— were paired with a cream colored shirt left unbuttoned and no tie. She had a laugh to herself because of course he’d been prepared with a bespoke suit. Had he brought it hoping she would say yes or was Zemo just the sort of man who traveled with tailored clothing ready for any occasion at all times? Running her hand along the fine fabric over his shoulder, she grinned not caring. Either way he was glorious to look at.
Arm in arm they left the restaurant and started the walk through the square towards the famous edge of town, to a spot where people had come to watch the sunsets for thousands of years. By the time they arrived, a small group of well wishers and curious villagers had stopped to watch them stand before the tiny old officiant who had married hundreds before them.
The ceremony was said in Spanish with Helmut translating the vows when it was time for her to repeat the words. Her voice was light as she slipped the gold band—identical to her own— onto his finger as a symbol of the pure, and simple truth of their love. And when they shared that first kiss, it was to the applause of the wind coming down from the mountain to bless their union.
Neither of them would ever be able to recall the walk back, they were so lost in the joy of the day, but one thing Christine would always remember was him whispering sweetly in her ear, some of it in English some in Sokovian, and how he’d kissed her cheek and hand often between waving thanks to the well-wishers who passed them by.
Some of the older folk handed them gold coins as they neared the restaurant insisting they have thirteen until they were properly showered in affection and traditions they did not know but graciously accepted.
When the gates to Gael’s place opened, Christine stood frozen by the transformation in the courtyard. The man’s promise was not unfounded. The restaurant was beautiful. Lit by lanterns and string lights, the tables had been put together in one long line and was now covered in a feast of Paella, croquetas, Jamón, Espetos and all the things Christine could not remember the names of, but once they sat, she ate with enthusiasm as her husband laughed and joked with his childhood friends sharing and passing plates of the delicious food.
The whistles and shouts came any time they kissed —which was often— until one of the old men teased that they needed to sneak into the closet and get it out of their system, which drew laughter and calls of approval from the rowdy crowd. But as the small family band set up in the corner struck a note, Christine suggested a dance instead.
One beautiful song was played for them first which silenced the room.
Gael, with tears in his eyes pulled his own wife close as he watched the way Zemo held his bride with one arm, his other hand keeping Christine’s close to his heart as they swayed to the music that filled the air with a slow, haunting rhythm.
The sound of sniffling and the sight of adoring smiles was the backdrop to their first dance as a married couple until the last strum of the guitar echoed along the stone walls surrounding the full courtyard. Christine rose up and pressed her lips to his, her veil concealing them as they shared a moment that everyone who saw, would always remember. There was such strength in the way they held one another. You could see that these two people had been through much more than most, and were so thankful to have found a sense of peace, here in this forgotten place.
And then —because the night was a celebration— out came the anís, sangria, and Gael’s cousin from Barcelona with the Orujo.
Sober but high on the night, Christine kept up with the party, howling with laughter as Zemo and the other men made adorable fools of themselves while the women danced and sang and adopted her into the multiple families that had continued to trickle in, not wanting to miss the party.
At one point Zemo and a few of the others serenaded Christine with an enthusiastic version of a traditional love song that had her and the women cheering by the end and the Baron pulling his bride up and into his arms to kiss her. A kiss that did not end as the aching desire to consummate the marriage reached its peak. He sat her down taking Christine's hand to lead her away from the wild night to the raucous approval of the crowd.
“Goodnight!” She'd shouted from the door way that led to their little room, a glimpse of the white she wore fluttering up the steps as her laughter faded with their climb~
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