141 - Aftermath

“Bastard shouldn’t have reached for that stun gun.  You’d be dead if you hadn’t grabbed it out from under him, Petey.”

In the wake of Daniel’s demise, Richie’s bland, yet authoritatively offered statement of self-defense echoed in Petey’s head along with Tico and David’s steadfast agreement.  And Tony’s, Henry’s, Jon’s…  Hell, everyone’s. 

Even Carol. 

The Bongiovi, Bon Jovi and Kerry-Heinz families had effectively circled the wagons around her, bringing Gavin along for the ride, and dared anyone to try and breach the perimeter.  Including the police.

The dozen or so adults who had witnessed the last few minutes of the incident had been asked to provide their account of what happened and each story was eerily identical:  Tony had maimed Daniel to save Jon’s life and, after dropping it, Daniel again reached for the stun gun.  Petey grabbed it away from him and used it an effort to disable him and escape.  Nobody knew the weapon would be deadly.  It was true that most of them hadn’t known, but still… Each and every one of them had made sure this was presented as unmistakable self-defense. 

The bachelor and bachelorette parties obviously cancelled, each trickled away to their respective homes after their interview was completed. 

Jon, Petey and Tony were targeted for more intensive questioning and were forced to stay behind.  They were grilled for what seemed like ages, and the questions had been repetitive.  Petey answered them all without any sign of emotion:  how did she know the victim, was she aware of the deadly nature of the weapon – she claimed total ignorance as to its modified state - why were they at Angelina’s that night.

Jon stayed by her side through it all, eventually proclaiming that enough was enough after each of them had spent a full hour answering countless questions. If the police needed anything further they knew how to find them.  Tony had stayed behind for a bit longer but, thanks to his text message to Jon, she knew he’d been released shortly after they had.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Sugar?”  The mattress dipped and Jon slipped under the covers beside her, his hair still damp from the shower. 

As soon as the police were finished with them, he’d slid a protective arm around her waist and set his jaw stubbornly, flatly informing her that he didn’t give a shit that it was the eve of their wedding.   If she was dead set on not sleeping with him the night before they got married then they would reschedule the damn thing, because she was going home with him.  End of discussion.

The image of him slumped helplessly against the railing had prompted her not to argue.  Petey wanted him near tonight.  They would call everyone in the morning with news that they were moving the wedding to Sunday and see if they wanted to try the parties again tomorrow night. 

“Nothing.”  She rolled onto her side and draped an arm over his bare middle, feeling oddly despondent.  “Everything.”

Jon sighed and cuddled her into his side, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.  “I know, Baby.  It’s been a helluva day, but it’s over.  For good.”

Petey tipped her head, lightly planting her chin on his chest so she could look at him.  There was a burn mark on his neck and a bruise on his cheek bone to act as mementos of tonight’s festivities.  The bruise wasn’t pronounced but she could still see the smudging above his five o’clock shadow.  She knew her throat bore similar finger-sized smudging. 

“We don’t have to do this now, you know.  There is nothing hanging over our heads and compelling us to get married.”

“Don’t start,” he warned softly.

She nodded silently and nestled her cheek into the downy softness of chest hair.  His answer was what she’d hoped for and anticipated but, for her own peace of mind, the offer had to be made.   Petey mused thoughtfully,  “Tony saved our lives.  How do you repay something like that?  And your family and friends.  They just… rallied around me without any hesitation.”

He chuckled under his breath.  “You don’t repay shit like that.  I get how big of a deal it is, and hell yeah, Tone is a hero in my book, but that’s what you do for family.  That’s what we do for family, and you’re family now.  They all know and accept it.”

“Even your mother.”  The idea still freaked her out a little.  It was an one-hundred and eighty degree turn around from her complete disdain the day they met to her unwavering support tonight – the second time they’d met.  The abrupt turnaround was perplexing.

“My mom can be a bitch when she’s crossed, but she protects what’s hers.  I belong to her, and you belong to me.  That makes you hers by default. Now, granted…”  He combed his fingers through the raven locks pooled at the back of her neck, and she relaxed a bit at the gentle tugging on her scalp.  “…she may pick a fight with you nine days out of ten, but nobody outside the family is allowed to.”

“Mm.”

Jon wouldn’t say anything, but he was worried about her.  She’d been eerily detached since the whole thing happened - almost cold.  There was no sadness or anger in her eyes, her smiles were perfunctory and wooden, and her words were distant.  She didn’t even seem relieved that it was over. 

That psycho-babble shit and digging out somebody’s emotions was Sambora’s gig.  He didn’t have any idea how to go about saying that he was there for her without it coming off like a schmuck.  Or that he’d been he’d been scared shitless that he almost lost her tonight.  Maybe someday he could write a song about it, but for now…

“Baby?”  One hand slid up under her nightshirt – his favorite black t-shirt – while the other angled her chin toward him.  “Kiss me.”

That soft sigh?  The slow climb over his body until she straddled him?  The cotton candy cloud that engulfed him?   Those he knew what to do with. What he was unable to articulate with his mouth, he could show her with his body.

His roughened fingers scraped across the tender skin at her nape, and Jon used his grasp to urge her forward, gradually closing the distance between their mouths.  As she bent at the waist, her hands fisted the pillow on each side of his head and the inky curtain of her hair slithered frontward, tickling each of his cheeks as it framed their faces, creating an intimate cocoon.  One more miniscule tug and their lips meet on a sweet exhale.

Taking his time, Jon left the kiss chaste for long minutes.  Soft nibbles, the barest tip of tongue teasing at the seam of her lips.  Sensual assault and retreat.  Petey soon grew frustrated with his teasing and pressed her tongue into his mouth, where it was warmly met. Her tiny grunt of satisfaction had him encasing her ribs in the possessive circle of his arms as the engaging slide of tongues had him hardening in his lounge pants.

Disengaging their mouths, only to keep coming back for another taste, Jon cradled the back of her head to keep her close and gently rolled his hips under her bottom.  “I want you, Sugar.  Now.”

“Now,” she agreed in with a soft breathiness, offering a reciprocal roll of her hips as she straightened, sweeping the shirt over her head.  It left her gloriously naked except for a scrap of pink lace at her hips.

Jon’s hands instinctively reached up to cup the weight of her breasts, thumbs flicking over their tips as she arched into the sensation.  At least she wasn’t cold to his touch.  He kneaded, pinching and teasing her nipples for long minutes, just looking at her. 

His imp’s eyes were closed and cheeks flushed as she rubbed his forearms, making the hair on them stand up.  Her sweet little noises of arousal were feeding his own.  He needed more.  To be a part of her.

Splaying his palms wide, he skated them down her ribcage and gripped her waist, easing her off of him.  “Lemme get rid of my pants.”

Digging his feet into the mattress he bowed until the elastic waistband slid over his hips and he kicked the soft cotton away.  She took the same opportunity to strip and, by the time he was naked, she was kneeling at his side. 

Her eyes stared intently as he gave himself a quick stroke and used his thumb to swipe away the drop of moisture at the tip of his erection.  “Climb up here, Baby.”

That brief invitation had her body welcoming his as she sank onto him with a sigh of contentment.  He was pretty sure he made the same noise when he slid into the wet heat that now felt like an extension of him.

Sliding his hands under hers until they were palm to palm, Jon interlocked their fingers, tightly clasping their hands together and gave a gentle bump of his hips.  Petey’s chin dropped into her chest and she rocked forward to counter his move, lightly grinding into his pelvis with a moan.

He withdrew as much as the mattress would allow and lifted again.  She rocked forward and bore down.  They went back and forth like that several times before Jon squeezed her captive hands.

“Petey.  Look at me.”

Without disrupting their easy rhythm, she slowly lifted her head.  The pupils of her eyes were dilated wide, black eating away at the distinctive crystal blue.  Looking somewhere past the black and blue depths, to wherever it was she’d locked herself this evening, he locked her gaze, vowing softly, “I love you.” 

Her body stuttered in its rocking motion, lashes blinking rapidly as she found her pace again.

For his part, Jon never ceased to ease in and out of her giving body, nor did he let his eyes fall away.  He merely declared again, “I love you.”

It was like watching a wall crumble before him as emotion – finally – flooded her face and filled her eyes.  Pushing their hands up beside his head, she fell into his chest with a tiny sob and buried her face into his neck.

He stilled, gingerly disentangling their fingers and wrapping loving and – he hoped – comforting arms around her as the anguish spilled from her quaking body.  “Shhh…  Everything’s okay.”

“I…  I…”  Tears clogged her vocal cords and she had to start over.  “I… almost… lost you.  Again.”  Her shoulders trembled as she wept and he was helpless to do anything but hold her until the tears slowed. 

“But you didn’t,” he reminded her, stroking her hair.  “And I didn’t lose you. We’re alive, Baby.”  He slid his flagging erection slowly free from her body and burrowed in again.  “Feel how alive.” 

Jon pumped again, re-stoking his arousal, and took full control of the motion, lifting himself into her heat and retreating.  He did it again, hands roving over her back, and encouraged,  “Come on, Petey.  Live with me.”

After receiving him another couple of times, she hesitantly began meeting the thrusts with her own and, after matching his strides, brought her face to his.  Shed tears were transferred from her cheeks to his as she slanted her face and crushed their lips together with a searing need.  Petey’s tongue plunged into his mouth as desperately as his body was now plunging into hers. 

“I love you, Jon.  I love you.”  The rasping words filled his ears and made his heart beat faster.  

“Then prove it,” he growled softly as her sweat-slicked breasts glided over his sweaty chest.  “Come for me.  Let go and come for me.”

Her sweet cry shattered in his ear almost instantly and a surge of arrogant pride brought him, that quickly, to the edge.  Jon smashed her body against his, holding her firm as he took from her what he’d given to her – an infusion of life.