Finally

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Finally

Being Thalia

Chapter 36

By devikafernando & avenger-nerd-mom

AU Fan Fiction

In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is growing up, making her own way in the world after losing both men she loved, Professors Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago holds down a job in Madrid as she tries to deal with the real world. She continues her studies and freelances as a consultant for museums around the world. Being Thalia updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Warning: As a whole, this work contains adult content. If you proceed you have agreed that you are willing to see such content. Each chapter will not be coded with individual warnings. The overall story contains no hidden triggers.

If you are new to the series and characters, click here to the beginning of Educating Thalia.

If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia

Word Count: 3612

Summary: Tom and Thalia come full circle on the most important day of their life.

Previous Chapter 35, Final Countdown

December 31, 2021

The first notes of the wedding march sound, and Tom has to remind himself to breathe. Bloody hell, he’s really getting married. Torn between doing a giddy little jig and puking all over his black tux, he turns along with the other guests in the church to stare at the double-winged door with its white flower arch.

They may not be doing many things traditionally, but Tom insisted that they would at least adhere to a few customs. As a consequence, he hasn’t laid eyes on the wedding dress that Thalia picked last week. Neither did he see her yesterday, choosing to spend their last night separately. Not that he slept a wink, nerves kicking in at the last minute.

Breathe, Hiddleston, he reminds himself—then nearly swallows his own tongue when it reminds him that the woman he loves will soon carry his name…alongside her own last name, as she doesn’t want to give it up. He’d happily have taken hers to please her but the possessive, authority-loving man inside a corner of him preens at the thought of staking such a public claim on her. She still brings the caveman in him out sometimes, although he’s learned a lot over the years.

A collective murmur travels through the church before hushed anticipation descends as the wedding march plays its most important melody. The door opens, and in steps a figure bathed in sunshine. His earthly angel, come to bless him with her shining light. He’d always thought it was just a phrase used in literature that one’s heart could skip a beat, and yet when Tom first lays eyes on his bride stepping out of the light and onto the carpet, he could swear his heart does cease to beat for a moment. When it recommences beating, it does so with a great, big thump of unbridled joy.

Lord in heaven, she is a vision. Thalia steadily advances towards him—alone because without her father, she didn’t want anyone else giving her away. Her exact words were, “I’m my own woman. The only person giving me to you, is me.” He’d laughed at her determination, her spirit. Seeing her unaccompanied now, Tom stares and stares, drinking in his fill.

She has chosen a gown in a creamy shade of white, with only a few lace accents and no veil. Modest yet pure feminine allure, it hugs her luscious curves, allowing a peak of ample cleavage, and cinching tightly at her waist before falling into a long train behind her. There’s a flower in her hair, the usually riotous curls tamed for the occasion in a fancy updo. Her modest bouquet is as classy as her gown, and it includes pink orchids and oleanders. He catches a peek of bejeweled sandals beneath the dress’s hem. Those have to be seriously high heels, judging from the height of the gorgeous woman gliding towards him like a goddess.

His brain blanks out for a moment, only a feeling of bliss remaining behind. If someone asked him for his name, he wouldn’t have remembered it.

Tom fastens his gaze on Thalia’s face, seeing the same stunned joy with a tinge of trepidation on her features that he must be radiating. He watches enraptured as she glances left and right, then breaks out into an astonished smile when she sees their guests.

They’d decided that they wanted a small, intimate wedding without any fancy pomp. First a short, personalized ceremony in church—no bridesmaids, no flower girls, no elaborate choir or British fanfare—and then a garden party for a few guests in an inn on the outskirts of London. What Thalia didn’t know until now is that Tom conspired with her family to surprise her on her big day. In secret, he organized and paid for tickets for most of her closest relatives and friends to attend. Her step-mother and grandmother are standing next to his family, some of the aunts looking decidedly weepy. He can’t blame them; his own eyes are glazing over a little. Henrí and his small little family, with Lucía by their side, blow kisses and wave to her as she giggles at the bouncing children.

Thalia’s eyes return to him and remain there, wide and shiny, and filled with so many emotions that he can feel resonate inside his own heart. She’ll probably kill him once the celebrations are over or demand that he lets her pay part of the ticket and accommodation cost. Not that he minds. He’ll die a happy man—or more probably, quarrel for a bit and then have sensational make-up sex. Jesus, not a good time to think of getting Thalia laid. Neither is it a good idea to be wondering whether she might be wearing stockings underneath that beautiful, not too showy dress. Or sinfully sexy lingerie?

Tom fidgets with his bowtie. He’s tied it himself, of course, fussing with it a few agonizing minutes in front of the mirror because this isn’t just any occasion. He’d picked out a black tuxedo, feeling as if it was a century ago that he last wore tails and a waistcoat. There’s a white flower in his buttonhole, and he’s even splurged on new shoes.

Thalia’s gaze rakes him from head to toe, and the tip of her tongue glides over her red lips, which makes all the muscles in his body tighten. He can feel her eyes like caressing fingers on his cheekbones and jaw and can’t resist a tiny smirk.

She’d been pestering him for days to get rid of the beard for the grand occasion, using her body and her sass to plead and cajole and argue. Day before yesterday, he conceded to at least trimming it—which ended in Thalia taking matters into her own hands, sitting on his lap and trimming the gingery scruff herself. That, inevitably, led to steamy shenanigans. But Tom didn’t tell her that he would of course heed her wish. This morning, he shaved himself with the greatest care, feeling oddly naked. But he didn’t need the ‘armor’ anymore, did he? He had what he wanted, with whom he wanted it. The haircut was an added bonus for his love.

Finally, what feels two seconds but also two decades later, his bride is in front of him and he holds out his arm to draw her nearer. When she twinkles up at him, he notices how fast her pulse flutters at her throat, and how her hands tremble. But it isn’t anxiety or doubt, for her eyes shine with love and happiness. It’s all he can do to not kiss her.

“You look utterly ravishing. The most beautiful bride in all of England’s history, I’m certain,” he says in a voice that sounds raspy to his own ears.

A blush spreads over her cheeks, highlighting a smattering of freckles. He notices for the first time that she’s wearing a string of diamonds around her wrist and beautiful drop earrings.

Caressing his thumb over the spot her wedding ring will sit in just a short while, he asks, “Ready to spend the rest of your life with this besotted old fool?”

Her answering smile nestles deep in his heart. She nods. “Are you ready to put up with my sass and stubbornness?” Of course, he nods as well.

Most of the ceremony is a blur. He knows he tears up a little during the personalized vows, almost stuttering when he recites some of Shakespeare’s most famous lines to profess his love and swear his undying fidelity to Thalia. “‘My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.’ My love for you, Thalia, my Warrior Princess, has always been. Even as hard as I fought against it, and pushed you away, it was always there.” He tenderly reaches up to wipe away a tear from her check. “Thank you for putting up with me.” The crowd laughs when she murmurs that it takes a lot of patience. He chuckles, shaking his head. “You never wavered, even when we were apart. I always felt your love, knew it called to me. I’m so damn lucky to have this chance, this forever, and I promise I won’t mess up this time.”

Somehow, they manage to exchange rings without him making a complete fool of himself, and then he dimly hears “you may now kiss the bride” and bends his head.

“Mine,” he whispers against her lips before giving her the first kiss not just as her man but also as her lawful wedded husband.

“Mine,” he feels her murmur against him as she kisses him back, and then he sinks into the magic of the moment and forgets everything and everyone around them.

It’s the nip of Thalia’s teeth on his lower lip that brings him back to reality and to the mingled sounds of tittering, throat-clearing and tentative applause. Tom knows he’s blushing, and Thalia’s face is flushed too when he draws back enough to drink her in.

His. Truly his.

Holding out his arm, he marches his radiant bride down the aisle where even more women are teary-eyed now and where his chum Luke gives him a grinning thumbs-up. There’s confetti to be thrown, there are photos to be taken, and then a cute old-timer Bentley takes them to the venue of their garden wedding as the rest of the guests file out to wave and cheer.

The ride to the location breezes by, mostly because he’s so busy holding Thalia’s hand, their fingers with their silver and platinum wedding bands linked together, and kissing her permanently smiling lips. The car takes them to the Marquee and Lawns on the little, enchanting Ravens Ait island on the river Thames, not far from Hampton Court and Kingston.

While the venue had been Tom’s suggestion once they had decided on a garden wedding, Thalia had accompanied him to check it out and finalize the decoration and menu. With less than fifty guests, theirs is probably the smallest function organized at this idyllic place that feels like miles out of London while technically still within the city limits. The couple takes a private launch to the island, Tom insisting on lifting Thalia aboard as if he were carrying her bridal style into their honeymoon suite. Their guests arrive soon after in a hired bus and are also ferried across the river.

“I feel as if I’m in a fairy tale,” Thalia whispers breathlessly into his ear as she clutches his hand tight enough to hurt.

“More Cinderella than Maleficent, I hope?”

She shoots him a look. “Definitely. Do you know that I’ve been pinching myself since this morning, to make sure I’m not dreaming?”

She shows him the inner curve of her elbow where he can make out tiny crescent shapes where her nails must’ve dug into her skin. Tom lifts it to his lips and brushes a soft kiss over the marks.

“If it is a dream then I never want to wake up.”

They are helped out onto the shore and greeted by smiling, ever so polite staff. There are more photos to pose for on the old stone steps and in the manicured garden before they find their seats beneath the white tent.

The next few hours go by in a blur, with a few special moments standing out. There is Prosecco and a three-course dinner altered to incorporate some temperamental Latino dishes. There is a wedding cake to cut, of course with another Shakespeare quote worked into the elegant décor. There is also a speech, then another one, then a toast that Tom makes before he steals another kiss from his bride.

Another surprise up his sleeve, he pulls his phone from his pocket when it rings and hands it to his beautiful wife. Thalia’s eyes widen in surprise when a cheerful young girl greets her. He motions her away to a quiet corner, allowing her privacy as she talks to her dear friends who were unable to make the wedding on such short notice. He tugs on the arm of his shirt, adjusting his cufflinks, thinking of the chat he’d had the other day with his old nemesis. Tom held true to his word and tracked Professor Evans down. The man hadn’t been ignoring Thalia’s calls. He’d been trapped in a family vacation disaster, snowed in at a resort in the mountains with his in-laws. Taking a drink from a tray as a waiter passes by, Tom wonders how he’d fair in the same situation. Stacey likes to dish it out to him as much as her daughter does…

Older and wiser, Tom had asked Evans for his blessing of sorts, knowing the act of civility would please Thalia. Maybe it’s the wine, or the few shots he’d tossed back with old friends, but he’s almost grateful for the challenges the other man in Thalia’s life had presented, because it brought them back together in the end. Made them stronger. Made him see how he couldn’t live without her.

“You’re a lucky man, Thomas,” his mother says quietly at his side. “She’s beautiful inside and out. First woman I’ve ever known you to love who wouldn’t let you walk all over her. She fights back. I like her spirit.”

Tom chuckles, putting his arm around his mother’s shoulder. “Appreciating a woman who speaks her mind and knows when to hold steady? I have no idea where I would have learned the importance of that…” He raises his eyebrow as his mother playfully swats his arm. “Let’s dance.”

Leading his mother to the dance floor, other party attendees fill in around them. He watches Thalia finish her call and take another glass of wine before joining him on the floor.

“Thank you,” she whispers, snuggling into his arms, her eyes still wet with tears.

Wiping them away, he simply nods. Him making the call, that was another important step towards coming full circle today. Not an end of an era so that a new one can start, but an acknowledgement how much the past has shaped their present and will shape their future.

***

Dancing of course is among his favorite moments of the day. He tugs Thalia closer into his hold, her curves gliding along him as her scent envelops him. Nuzzling her neck, bare except for a few curls of hair that have escaped her up-do by now, he presses a kiss to her tanned skin.

“Is everybody else busy dancing?” he asks softly.

She shifts a little in his possessive hold to glance around. “Some are. Others are talking non-stop or taking second helpings of that to-die-for dessert. Speaking of which, how about feeding me some more of that?”

Her glance at him from beneath her lashes is nearly his undoing but Tom reins himself in. He gives her his most smoldering look, which makes her steps falter despite his sure lead as he twirls with her across the garden.

“I’d much rather feast on you than have you feast on dessert, no matter how decadent it tastes,” he growls low in his throat.

Thalia blinks once and then stares up at him with wide eyes, nearly stepping on his foot so that he pushes her outwards, turns her in a sort of pirouette and reels her back in. He presses his smooth cheek against hers and slows their movement somewhat, using it as an excuse to whisper hotly into her ear.

“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you for hours, Mrs. Bareo-Hiddleston.” Her full-body shiver fuels the fire inside him. “You look good enough to eat, and I’m a starving man. Surely you wouldn’t deny me a taste?”

As further incentive, he dips the tip of his tongue into her ear, then breathes against the bit of moisture to make her shiver again.

“But, Tom…” Gratifyingly, her voice sounds wobbly and needy, and her fingers are digging into his shoulder as she hangs on for dear life, dance steps forgotten while he continues to sway them. “We can’t just leave. What will everybody think?”

“Screw what everybody else will think,” he says vehemently, pressing her close with his free hand splayed low on her back so that their bodies rub against each other promisingly. “When have we ever let others get in the way of the magic between us?”

He hears the click of her convulsive swallow despite the romantic music all around them.

“True. But promise me it’ll just be a few stolen kisses.”

She lifts her chin to hold his gaze and he gives her a nod. Deftly, he maneuvers them to the edge of the area reserved for dancing while mentally going over what he remembers of the place’s layout. They have booked a flight for the early morning hours to enjoy an exotic honeymoon, so they aren’t staying at the venue and have no room here. But surely there will be some corner secluded enough to seduce his wife?

His wife. The thought makes him beam.

Making sure with a furtive glance that everyone is busy, he grabs Thalia around the waist and half-hauls her out of the garden and into the nearby building, wedding finery and propriety be damned. While she giggles and he chuckles—and they startle a waiter into nearly dropping a tray of Prosecco—they make their escape. The ground floor is deserted, as the venue is usually closed off whenever a wedding party takes place. Tom spies a few doors marked ‘staff’, then looks into a room that seems perfect. It’s almost a sign, meant to be.

Veering right, he pulls Thalia with him and closes the door behind them, locking it with a click that seems to seal their fate. It’s a guest room, the interior reminding him of typical English cottages. But Tom doesn’t pause to appreciate the décor; he’s spied something far more interesting and suited to having his way with the willing woman in his arms: The far wall is covered in a bookshelf, stocked with what at a glance looks like old classics mixed with new bestsellers. Of course it’s got to be a bookshelf because over six and a half years ago, he first claimed this beautiful temptress in a library. And now he’ll get to do so for the rest of his life.

The joy makes his head reel for a moment before he steadies himself and holds his woman close. “Now give me a kiss like a good girl. Or should I say, like an obedient wife?” he commands, tilting her face up.

There’s a gleam in Thalia’s eyes. She licks her lips and leans close, pressing herself against him so he fills his free hand with curves and expensive fabric. “I’m not sure I like the word ‘obedient-’”

Tom gives her a light tap on her tulle covered ass, and pulls her closer to claim her lips. The kiss starts out tender, but Tom soon gives in to all the pent-up desire.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all day,” he whispers hoarsely, the blood pounding in his ears. “Looking like a queen and not just a warrior princess. Let me worship you, on my knees like a good king should always worship his queen.”

She shivers again, her hands clutching at his biceps.

“But…Tom…”

He holds her gaze, his grip on her chin firming. “Do you trust me?”

Thalia nods immediately.

“Do you want me?”

An even more eager nod.

He claims her mouth in another kiss, letting his tongue delve deep to explore and entice, one single kiss enough to blow his control to smithereens. With a stifled, needy groan he pulls her towards the bookshelf so her back hits the wood. Giving her a heated look, he sinks to his knees in front of her—and Thalia gasps as realization dawns in her eyes, her pupils dilating. Does she remember it too, their first naughty encounter a lifetime ago?

“If you don’t want this, tell me to stop,” Tom grinds out as his hands wander beneath the skirt of her wedding dress, recalling a similar warning from those days.

“You said you’d only steal kisses,” comes Thalia’s half-whimpered reply.

He smirks at her, his long fingers stroking up her calf and higher to dig into her flesh. “I’m getting to the kissing part, darling.”

Wagging his brows, he leans forward to press a kiss to her clothed belly as his hand inches higher still, then bites off a moan when he discovers she’s wearing a garter and stockings.

“God, I love you,” comes Thalia’s answer, almost sounding like a curse, although her eyes shine down at him.

“I love you too.”

He holds her gaze a moment longer, then gives her a wink and ducks under her gown to nuzzle the rapidly dampening heat between her thick thighs. His fingers join his eager mouth, drawing the fabric aside so he can slide his tongue through her folds and make his wife come as she clutches the bookshelf.

The muffled sound of Thalia reaching her peak is followed by the clock in the room striking midnight. After a final soothing lick, Tom struggles a bit to extricate himself from under layers of fabric and stand up. His joints protest but nothing, absolutely nothing, can spoil this moment.

“Happy New Year, my darling wife,” he all but purrs, and Thalia blinks open heavy-lidded eyes. Her smile is slow to form but absolutely glorious in its joy.

“Happy New Year, and happy beginning of our new life together!” she whispers and seals the fervent wish with a kiss.

The End

Thank you for reading and sticking with us till the end. Your comments and likes have been appreciated!- Love, Cass and Devika

Copyright © 2019 avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Goals

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Goals

Collaboration by devikafernando and avenger-nerd-mom

AU Fiction

Professor Tom Hiddleston and Thalia Bareo place a wager on the FIFA World Cup 2018 outcome

Warnings: language, fluff, teasing

Word Count: 1725

This little drabble doesn’t offer any answers to “What’s Thalia been up to?” or “Who is Thalia dating?” This is just a summer Saturday, a little peek into her life…

If you don’t know the story of Thalia and Professor Tom, or how Professor Evans fits into all this, start at the beginning. Read Educating Thalia on WordPress.

Prologue 2018

“Bloody hell, that was clearly offside!”

With an indignant half-yell, Tom sets his chips bag down on the table with somewhat too much force. To his right, Thalia shouts her support.

“At least by a foot! Is the side referee blind or what?”

God, she truly is the perfect football companion, Tom thinks to himself with a grin. He’s infinitely glad that he can share the experience with her. Still giddy that England has made it to the quarter finals of the FIFA World Cup 2018, he’s practically bouncing in his seat with energy. He’s already dashed off to the loo twice, feeling like a little boy again, and eating as well as drinking too much—but so is the excited, gorgeous woman on the couch next to him.

They are watching the match at her place, and though she still didn’t have a TV when she moved into this apartment, Tom quickly rectified the situation. Just so they could follow England’s journey to victory, he’s bought a huge flat-screen. Thalia, on the other hand, has invested in face paint, little flags, and football—correction, soccer—jerseys of the teams that have her support.

cookies goals

Tom smirks to himself and shakes his head a little, hiding his expression behind another cookie. Thalia’s Latina side has been showing itself repeatedly the past few weeks. She’s been vocally supportive of every single Central- and South-American team, especially Mexico and Brazil, often growing animated while watching the matches. He’s been ribbed endlessly—and enjoyed the hell out of it; not least because their excitement during the match inevitably leads to after-match romps in the sheets.

Now that there are only European teams left, Thalia has switched sides and gifted her loyalty to the English team alongside him, and it never fails to make him smile how enthusiastically she cheers—and curses—for them as well.

“What are you smiling about so smugly?” Her raspy voice interrupts his thoughts.

Tom leans over to press a rather chaste, smacking kiss onto her luscious lips, startling her into a squeak. “Nothing in particular. And everything at once.” He steals one of her marshmallows, gobbles it up and holds his finger out to let her lick the sweet powder from the digit—which she does with blazing temptation in her eyes. He winks at her and says, “Hold that thought,” and he hurriedly refocuses on the second half of the match. “I’m just so happy to be sharing all this with you.” Tom gestures broadly, loving it that she returns his smile now.

She opens her mouth to reply but then both of them freeze for a second, eyes glued to the screen.

“Goal!”

They shout it simultaneously, exchanging a disbelieving-overjoyed glance before taking in the replays of the header that puts England firmly in the lead. With a score of 2:0, they’re as good as through to the semifinals now.

“Oh my god, oh my god, fucking yes!” Tom jumps up from the couch, nearly upending his popcorn bowl while he pumps his fist into the air.

jersey goals

Thalia is clapping and whooping, and his eyes are drawn to her outfit. While he has opted for comfy, holey sweatpants and a faded England jersey he’s saved all the way from his twenties, Thalia is wearing black yoga pants and a very new team jersey that’s so tight it stretches over her ample curves like a second skin. Dammit, she’s delicious like this, eyes glowing, hair wild, cheeks flushed, and bosom heaving.

Ball not boobs, Hiddleston, he reminds himself and tears his gaze away from her generous breasts with great effort.

They settle down after some more cheering, their hands reaching for the popcorn at the same time.

“What’s the goal scorer’s name again?” Thalia asks. “He’s kinda cute.”

Scandalized, Tom snaps his head around. “Woman! He’s 22! He’s just a boy!”

She shrugs and lifts a saucy brow at him. “So? You’re hardly in a position to get your underwear in a twist about age differences, Professor.”

For a moment, he can only splutter and gape at her, then he narrows his eyes at her smirk. Oh, he’ll punish her for all that sass, after the game is over…

Refocusing on the quarter final just as Sweden is unable to turn a really good shot at the goal into an actual point for them, Tom rests his hand on Thalia’s thick thigh, fingers digging in possessively.

He feels her shudder once and snuggle closer, though she keeps her attention on the TV. All right, all right, he knows he shouldn’t feel a slight stab of jealousy over a football player she might find ‘cute’, but it does bring out his possessive side. Tom lets his fingers glide a little higher on her thigh. He’s been trying all this time not to glance at a certain corner of the room and to keep his jealousy at bay. A corner with a shelf that holds three framed photographs he can’t stand to look at for long.

Thalia with a now older child, Avery, both of them making silly faces at the camera. Avery in a colorful butterfly costume from probably some school play or other. And the third photo, which he avoids looking at the most…of Thalia, Avery and her father, Professor Evans. Tom knows that Thalia has been keeping in touch with both of them and spends quite some time with them when her work schedule allows. And he shouldn’t begrudge her that. He’s knows better now, doesn’t he? He rubs over the small scar on the back of his knuckle. He fucking knows that he can’t go all Neanderthal and throw her over his shoulder to haul her away to a cave and keep her away from the rest of the world. But still, it stings.

This isn’t the time for pondering and moping, dammit. It is her apartment, although his touches also fill the space. Rare tomes and artifacts from their travels together. And the bed they share. He cocks his head. Let the other man have a photo. He has the real thing..

Downing the last of his beer with his free hand and setting the can down a bit forcefully, Tom straightens his shoulders and puffs up his chest. Just when he pays attention to the match again, a Swedish player crumbles to the ground, clutching his ankle and grimacing in pain.

“Oh, sod off, you bleeding actor you!” He grouses and thumps his fist against his thigh before throwing his hand up in disgust, displaying his long fingers. “That was barely a touch, there’s no need to pretend you’re dying.”

Thalia snort-snickers and nudges him with her elbow. “Takes a performer to know one, huh?”

He relaxes a bit to snicker too, watching as the referee gives a free kick to Sweden. “I’m just glad we’ve seen fewer fouls this time than in 2014,” he says, calming down somewhat and hoping fervently that the free kick won’t provide the opposing team with a goal chance. “The VAR introduction seems to help.”

Once the situation is diffused, he and Thalia discuss the Video Assistant Referee system, Tom weighing in with some previous experiences from club team matches which Thalia doesn’t usually watch.

“But I bet a lot of fans and even players are blaming the VAR for their team going out of the tournament,” she adds and devours another of the mini-sandwiches that Tom has prepared as a snack.

“Mhm, probably.” Tom leans over to lick a smudge of mayonnaise off the corner of her mouth, then lets his tongue glide leisurely over her lips. When they part, he delves in quickly, laps at her tongue and draws back to savor the taste with a quiet hum.

Focus, he orders himself, seeing Thalia pull herself together and redirect her gaze to the television too.

“Speaking of bets,” he says, “it looks like I’ll soon be enjoying a day to do with you whatever I please.”

Thalia baited him into betting at the beginning of the World Cup. She swore France with all its young, dynamic players would win this time, but of course Tom insisted it would be England. So they’ve bet that whoever wins gets the opportunity to do with the other one whatever they want for a whole day. The wicked possibilities have him rubbing his hands together, but Thalia just scoffs and rolls her eyes at him.

“Not so fast. England hasn’t even reached the semis yet.”

The next moment, Tom whoops in glee as the referee’s whistle indicates that the match is over.

“Yes, we have. Yes, we fucking have, darling!”

He turns to her for a high five, which Thalia gives him with a shake of her head but also a wide, happy grin.

Tom hauls her closer with one arm and pulls her onto his lap, not even caring that the players’ celebrations on screen are blocked from view.

“Now, why don’t I show you how a real man celebrates a victory, and give you a taste of what’s to come when I’ll have you at my beck and call for a whole day?” he purrs, letting his voice go lower and deeper, and feeling her shiver in his arms.

“Yes, please…Sir.”

She adds the last word softly, after a brief hesitation. Now that they’ve mostly moved away from the ‘Professor and student’ thing and that Thalia has grown more mature, they don’t often return to their slight dom-sub tendencies from the beginnings. But whenever they do, both of them delight in the additional thrill.

Grasping the globes of her lush ass, Tom shifts her even closer and nuzzles her neck. He inhales her orchid scent, one that’s been haunting him for ages. When she makes a soft, contented sound, he turns the nuzzling into kisses, then gives in to the urge and opens his mouth over her pulse point to suck a mark. Biting down slightly until she squirms, he lets one hand wander into her unruly curls to pull her head back for even better access, continuing to lavish her neck with licks and sucks.

The raucous cheering on TV fades into the background as the fingers of his other hand slide beneath the waist of her yoga pants. She leans forward, burrowing his face in her cleavage, and removes his glasses, tossing them to the side table.

To find out the outcome, click to read “The Bet.”

If you don’t know the story of Thalia and Professor Tom, or how Professor Evans fits into all this, start at the beginning. Read Educating Thalia on WordPress.

Copyright © 2018  avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

Snapshots

Snapshots October 28 2016.jpg

Snapshots

An Emery & Chris story

By avenger-nerd-mom

Actor Chris Evans and his lovely new bride, Emery Rose, celebrate their big day surrounded by family and friends

Warnings: Language, FLUFF

Word Count: 5355

December 10, 2016

He steps up behind her and takes her tiny hand in his, his warmth like a blanket around her.  “By the way, I have a huge hickey on my collar bone” he whispers in her ear.

Emery gently brushes against his arm and giggles, “You just said it couldn’t show on camera!”

Chris freezes momentarily when the doors open in front of them and a distant voice booms, “Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Christopher Evans!”

“Can I request a matching one in another spot later?”  He kisses her briefly, waiting for the right count of the song before advancing into the room.

“You can have whatever you want dear husband,” she giggles again as she pushes him forward to make their entrance as the happily married couple.

Their presentation dance is thankfully forgotten as all their friends and family rush to surround them, hugs and congratulations abound.

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“Excuse me, excuse me,” the DJ calls over the microphone, breaking through the low roar of the room.   “I’ve just received a text message from the bride that says ‘Please announce: if you all don’t stop clinking your glasses every five seconds to get us to kiss, I’m closing down the bar.’ Apparently the bride wants to eat and enjoy this meal, and she is willing to bribe us with booze.”

Scott Evans turns to the young man sitting next to him. He had introduced himself earlier as Steven, a recent graduate from her class, now studying in New York. Chris had secretly arranged for a few of her favorite students to be guests at the wedding.  “Bribery? Is that her method of motivation in class?”

“No, man but if she’d bribed us with alcohol, I at least wouldn’t have cared I didn’t understand Advanced Trig.”

Scott claps the kid on the back and laughs loudly.  “You, I like. Stick with me, kid.”

“Ah, man!”  Emery calls out.  “Who hired a Yankee DJ?  It’s not ‘if you all don’t stop.’” She mimics the Boston accent of the DJ, one of Chris’s childhood friends, and other friends playfully boo and hiss.  “It’s more like this: ‘if y’all don’ stop!’”  All the Southerners in the room applaud for the distinction.  “Leave me in peace to eat; I can kiss him ‘all I wan’ to’’ later!”  Her over the top drawl mimics a famous line from a popular movie set in the South.

From the shadows of the room, Chris isn’t sure if it is Seb or Renner that yells, “Let her eat!  She needs fuel for energy later.”

He looks to his blushing bride and laughs as she mumbles under her breath. “Your fuckin’ friends are rude… but correct.  They do realize our grandparents are here though, right?  Does everything have to be a damn innuendo?”

Grasping her skirt and inching it up, his hands hidden from view behind the tablecloth, he keeps sliding his hand up until he can tease his fingers along her bare thigh. His voice full of laughter at the joy of the moment replies, “Have you not been paying attention for the last year? YES. Yes, everything has to be a damn innuendo.”

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Called to the center of the dance floor the couple prepares for their spotlight dance, all eyes on them, giggling and whispering to one another.  When the music begins, Emery quickly realizes this isn’t the version of the song she wanted, but her eyes soften and fill with tears when she realizes it’s actually perfect.

“It’s you… That’s you on the piano?”

Before Chris can answer, his voice comes over the speaker singing words of love just to her and he looks to her with his eyes glistening from tears.  “People fall in love in mysterious ways…. I fall in love with you every single day,” he sings along, his breath warm against her temple. “When my hair’s all but gone and my memory fades, and the crowds don’t remember my name…”

“I’ll still love you the same,” she joins in, her quiet voice matching his, fingers tugging his shorter hair, just the way she likes it.

“You’re mine, for always?” he sniffles, chuckling as he wipes away his own tears.

“You know it.  Till the end of the line, Mr. Evans.”  Although her blue sequined Captain America shoes she wore on the first day they met give her added height, she still has to pull him down to her to kiss his cheek, tasting the salty tears trapped in his beard.  Wrapping her hand around his neck she toys with the collar of his suit coat as her lips blissfully meet his.

Pulling back slightly, his nose slides against hers as he inhales her flowery scent.  Getting lost in his beautiful bride, he whispers, “That’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard, Emery Rose Evans.”

His lips, sweet and tender, capture hers, slowly brushing over her glossed pink ones.

The newlyweds could care less they are on display on the dance floor  surrounded by the love of family and friends.  Emery’s eyes flutter closed as her lips touch his and she raises her hand up to caress his closely cropped hair.  The soft impression of her mouth against his causes her heart to race and she can feel it beating against his solid, familiar chest.  Home.   His arms squeeze tight around her, pulling her close as his hands roam across her back.

Although the kiss began chaste and a show for the onlookers, it begins to build heat.  Darting his tongue across her lips, tasting her, Chris deepens the kiss and her hold on the back of his head tightens as they continue to sway to the music, a sense of a true dance totally lost.  She moans quietly against his mouth, parting imperceptibly to allow him to suck on her top lip as he loves to do.  He pulls off with a biting tug, a promise for later as the music dies down and flows to the next song, set as a traditional dance for the bride to dance with the fathers, and the groom to dance with the mothers.

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Emery’s younger sister Mackenzie pulls on Emery’s arm and draws her attention away from wedding guests offering congratulations.  “What are you doing?  Chris works with them,  I need to make nice–”

“Shhh.. You’re ovaries will thank me.  Look.”  She spins her sister around towards the dance floor, where Chris has dark haired Stella in one arm and fair haired Dakota in the other, dancing and laughing with them.

“I mean, he’s my brother in law and all, but that makes me wanna have kids with him!”

Emery smiles, shaking her head at her slightly tipsy sister’s honesty.  She sucks in air between her teeth before admitting, “Damn, that is sexy.  My bearded dork… He’s gonna make a great dad someday.”

“You change your mind? You still wanna wait?”

Continuing to watch her handsome husband with their nieces, she moves to sit at the closest table, taking a few moments to rest.  She nods to the quiet couple at the table, smiling as they raise their glasses to her in congratulations.  Her sister pulls up a chair next to her and they whisper conspiratorially.  “I’m in no rush.  He doesn’t like it, but I don’t wanna start our family while he’s still so obligated to the studio.  I start my new job in January. He’ll be home on the weekends, and days I don’t have office hours, I can go into Atlanta and be with him on set.  I just wanna enjoy being his wife for a bit.  Adjusting our lives together, creating us first.  I still gotta figure out how to deal with paparazzi and gossip before I bring a little one into our world.  There’s no rush.”

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Looking to the dance floor, the young girls so comfortable in his strong arms with his shirt sleeves rolled up, exposing his hidden beauty, her heart skips a beat.  “But yeah, I guess seeing him like that does make me hurt a little… Fuck, he’s really beautiful, isn’t he?”

Mackenzie giggles, accepting two beer bottles from the waiter as he walks by, handing one to her sister.  “Sis, I still can’t believe you captured your favorite superhero.  It’s like right out of some silly movie.”

“Or the best written fan fictions,” Jen comments as she wanders passed the table and joins the girls for a quick respite.  “Damn girl, you really know how to throw a wedding!  This is impressive.  So much eye candy,” she giggles as she collapses against the back of her chair.  Her eyes skim the dance floor, pinpointing various fantasies she sees on display.  “Tom is just as charming as I thought he’d be!  I thought I was going to die when he asked me to dance; his hand on my hip, guiding me to the floor.  Maybe I did die…  This is my ghost.  The ghost of Jen.  I’m not kidding.  This is the best wedding reception ever!”

Emery smiles at her fangirl friend.  She’s so grateful so many of her girls in the fandom world were able to join her for this special occasion.  “Don’t die; you haven’t met Seb yet, have you?”

Jen’s head drops back and she releases a primal sound.  She giggles and raises her head up, searching the floor for him.  “No.  I haven’t.” She shakes her head.  “Some of the guys disappeared to play in the snow, of all things, and I haven’t had the chance to meet him.  But when I do, talk about ‘best written fan fics…’  I’ve got some fantasies for him.”

Raising her hand for a high-five, Mackenzie slurs slightly, “Oh, sister, don’t I know it.  I’ve read your stuff.  Damn.  Why don’t we go get freshened up a bit, be ready when those handsome men reappear?”

When one of the photographers approaches the table to talk to Emery about getting some more posed photos, Mackenzie and Jen sneak off together.  They walk away arm in arm giggling over different fangirl story ideas that could take place at a wedding reception.

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Taking a breather from the snowball fight, Chris steals a few moments from the party atmosphere to gather with his Marvel co-workers and friends.  Robert gestures towards him with his water bottle, “So young lad… the wedding night? Any questions; concerns?”

Renner sees where this is going and playfully jumps in. “Yeah, you know, wedding night jitters… It can be stressful. Don’t be upset if your-” the hero themed snack table close by catches his eye and he can’t hold back the joke on the tip of his tongue. He chuckles, scratching his head. “Don’t be worried if your, uh, ‘flagpole of freedom’ can’t rise up for a salute.”

Knowing they aren’t finished, Chris just pinches the bridge of his nose, dropping his eyes to his shoes.  Shaking his head in mirth and disbelief, he holds in his laughter.

“Yeah, man. It happens,” Mackie interferes trying to keep a straight face. “Emery’s a sweet, quiet girl; I’m sure she’ll understand if you can’t perform any heroic deeds.”

A wicked grin gracing his countenance, Robert brightens at the name of his favorite little red head. He knows she’s just what Chris needed in his life to move him forward into true adulthood, and he has nothing but the best wishes for the couple, but he can’t help taking the opportunity to joke with his closest friends. “Hey, about Emery-”

Seeing that his new brothers Reece and Dan have joined the gathering, and wanting utmost respect for his wife, Chris cuts through his friend’s thoughts. “Hey now, none of that locker room talk about my sweet, innocent wife-”

Mark Ruffalo jumps in, coughing, ‘bullshit’ under his breath.  “Bullshit; My trailer’s right next to yours on set-”

Chris stares him down and the group shares a chuckle at his defensive posture.  ”-And no need to worry about me and my ‘salute.’ It’s all good,” he promises waving his hands in an explanatory gesture indicating that everything is in working order.

Seb steps up. “Well, man, we got you a little something. Don’t use ‘em all in the first year,” he advises, handing a gift bag to the groom.

Chris peers into the sack and doubles over in laughter, rising back up and doing his signature left-boob grab maneuver on Grillo, who just joined the circle.  Frank chuckles too, seeing what’s down in the bag. Through wheezing laughter, Chris spits out, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ! There must be like a thousand condoms in there!”  He shakes his head at the assortment of colorful foiled packets his friends have gifted to him.

“Hey, you don’t need all those tonight,” Seb teases as he reaches in and pockets some for himself. “That one bridesmaid is pretty hot.”

The men turn to the group of women out on the dance floor and Chris releases another gut busting laugh. “Oh, man, that one?” Raising his eyebrow, he nods to his close friend. “Yeah. Just be careful with that one…”

Seb’s intrigued expression shows he’s not interested in Chris’s friendly advice, and who is Chris to warn his friend and keep him from some undoubtedly sinful fun? Chris drops the topic as Hemsworth raises his glass in a toast, all joining in with kind words for their dear friend and his new bride.

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Moving away from the dancing bridesmaids and collection of friends, Emery’s sister-in-law Susan finds her husband wandering across the room towards her.  “Are you okay?” she asks Reece. “What has that little huddle all about?”

“What?” he asks, not truly hearing her over the din of the party room. His dazed look causes her concern.

“Babe? You’re scaring me a little; what’s wrong?” She pushes him towards the door to the quiet hallway.

Reece smiles down at his wife, waving at his father who is heading back into the room through the other doorway. “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong,” he explains, his voice full of mirth and wonder. “I think I have the coolest sister ever. She actually married a real super-hero… I’ve talked renewable energy with Ruffalo all afternoon, I’m golfing with Downey tomorrow and Scarlett asked to see pictures of our baby…. I’m just… I’m a nerd. I’m in frickin’ heaven right now. Am I dreaming?” He chuckles, cornering his wife against the wall.  Leaning down to kiss her neck, she tilts her head back to accept his affections.  His tone drops seductively. “By the way, have I told you how beautiful you look in this bridesmaid dress. The classic style really shows off your, uh,” Reece pauses, looking down to his wife’s plump breasts busting out of her dress, mashed against his chest.  “Pretty eyes,” he laughs.

She rolls her ‘pretty’ eyes knowing exactly where his mind is headed.  “Honey, if you don’t let me go, this dress will be ruined. I’m about to explode. I just wanted to tell you I’m going to find a quiet place to pump.  Little Luke will just have to wait to get the real thing later… Oh, and the photographer is trying to round the men up for more photos. Save me a dance for later, okay?”

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Waiting on the snow covered patio the wedding party huddles together for warmth and anticipates further instructions.  At Emery’s request Chris hired their new friend and photographer, Erin, and a small team of professionals to take the official and candid photos for their special day.  The men are summoned for more photos in the fading light and slowly begin to move to the appointed location.

“Hold up, come back here!” Emery calls out to Chris as he begins to walk away to join the groomsmen for more photos.  “Why is your ass wet?”

Chris grins sheepishly, jumping in front of his charming bride to block the snowball Scott poorly aimed at him.  “Sorry sis,” her new brother shouts.  “I was aiming for meatball, there.”

The groomsmen send up a cheer when her well aimed snowball hits Scott solidly in the chest.  Her brother, Reece, laughs and says, “Scott, I’d say you throw like a girl, but she proved that wrong.”

“Not thrown many snowballs before,” she whispers to Chris, “thank goodness it was a packing snow, or I’d have looked like an idiot.”  She brushes the snow from his jacket and smiles as Erin snaps some candid shots.  “Honey, I asked ‘why is your ass wet?’”

“Earlier in our snowball fight, I fell on it,” he admits, rubbing his hand down the back of his thigh.  “I think I might have bruised something…  I couldn’t get traction in the snow in these dress shoes.  Shit.  It didn’t stain did it? We gotta fuckin’ return this thing, right?”

In the dimming sunlight Emery bends to check out the ass of his pants and playfully bites at him.

Capturing the photo Erin shouts, “Oh, that one goes on Twitter!”

“You be nice to me,” Chris laughs shaking his finger at her, “Or it’s back to Disney full time for you!”

“Oh, it’s such a horrible place to work.  Taking photos of happy families and couples all day,” she laughs, playfully moving him to the right lighting for the photo she wants to snap.

Emery elegantly slides in next to him, a natural in front of the camera and Chris’s heart grows  full of pride.  Such beauty and grace… Home.  

“I don’t see any stains, but it’s no big deal.  We own the suit,” Emery replies with a sly grin on her face.

Blocking her from the cold chill in the air, he pulls close to her.  “What? Why?”

“Are you kidding me?!  That is Suit Porn at it’s finest, and it’s all mine.  Like once a month, I’m just gonna have you put it on and walk around the house and bring me things,” she giggles.

Adjusting his movements for Erin to click her photos as the sun sets against the falling snow, Chris teases, “Oh, really?”  He nods his head.  “Fine.  That’s fine.  A long as you return the favor occasionally and put on this dress and do the same.”

Blushing, she bows her head, “Oh, honey, no.  This is vintage.  This is going away safe.  Ilaria and I already have planned to get it framed, but we can get a replica made.”

Chris laughs, his eyes wide at the thought, happy to see his wife willing to spend his money freely on something frivolous.  “I adore you, kitten.  And I see it has pockets?”

“It does!” She exclaims. “Every good nerd girl knows a wedding dress must have pockets!”

Rolling his eyes, Chris chuckles, “I understood that reference.  I wish I didn’t, but I do….”

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As the afternoon moves into evening, and the photos outside are finished, Chris and Emery take the stage again to introduce the next “activity” for the wedding guests.  The two giggle and tussle over who will actually speak before Chris finally places the microphone in her hand and presents her to the crowd with a flourish of his arms.  Stepping into the limelight, she laughs and mumbles “Chicken shit,” under her breath before addressing the crowd.  “Hey, y’all.  We hope you’re having a wonderful time.  Chris and I wanted to thank everyone for making time in their busy schedules and for battling the winter storms this week to get here-”

Leaning over her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her tiny frame, he chimes in, “I tried to tell her snow and Boston could be a bad combination, but she’s a little hard-headed. However,  I think we can all agree, the day was amazing and the snow was beautiful; just what she’d hoped for…” He smiles as the crowd cheers and applauds, lightly placing a kiss on her temple before letting her continue her speech.

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“We have a family wedding tradition in the Thomas family that some of you might not be familiar with, known as the Dollar Dance,” Emery continues.  “The idea is you can dance with the bride or groom, but you have to make a donation, traditionally used to collect money for expenses of starting a new household together.  Well, no one wants to dance with me,” she giggles at Chris’s motions that he does,  “and we don’t need another toaster, and I’ve got all these handsome Marvel men and women here tonight so they’ve agreed to help with my family tradition, with a little twist!”  She smiles as family members begin to shift towards the stage, preparing for the awaited dance.  “For your donation, you can twirl around the floor with any of the lovely people around the room tonight, but since Chris and I don’t need the money, all the money will be divided and donated to Christopher’s Haven, here in Boston, and the shelter where I volunteer my time in Savannah.”

Chris blushes and shakes his head when her fangirl friends go crazy, and lines actually begin to form around his friends.

Wait, there are some basic rules,” Emery begins to explain.

“Just like a teacher to spoil the fun!” her friend Lillian yells across the room, her eyes on Mackie.  She gives a little shove to her friend Gitali, motivating her to move quickly to find Chadwick for the first dance.

“Ha-ha, dear. Shushie.  Really. I promise the rules will work in your favor…  I know how a fangirl mind works; I had to create some guidelines to keep y’all in line!  Some of these handsome men are VERY married so be respectful. Same goes for ScarJo and Cobie, gentlemen.  I guess everyone else is fair game.”

“I’m available ladies,” Renner adds in motioning to the women closest to him, including Emery’s sister in law Susan and her friends Monica and Sophia.

“Me too,” offers Hiddleston, his arms already wrapped around Emery’s friend Devika. Emery gives her friend Danielle a thumbs up as she patiently waits behind them, bouncing on her tiptoes with excitement.

More cheers and laughter fill the rafters of the old farmhouse setting.

“Bring it down, bring it down,” Emery laughs, treating the crowd like she would a roomful of excited students.  “My good friend, Jen, was given a heads up on this. She has pledged an undisclosed amount for a FULL song with Seb, so back off. Get in her way, and I think she’ll hurt you…”

Chris erupts in laughter behind his wife, a full body shake as he nods his head in agreement to this statement.  He gives a salute to his friend, quietly standing in the corner, silently sending him luck.

“Hey, hey!  I gotta question!”  Mackie calls out from behind one of the many displays of food, his voice booming and playful. “This is a lustful looking group of women… Now, I know I agreed to this, but I’m gettin’ a little scared.  Where are they putting this money? Like am I gonna be pulling ones outta my briefs later?”

Sounds of heated catcalls fill the air, including ones from the beautiful bride, covering the microphone as she releases her laughter.  Blushing and laughing with her, Chris shakes his head.  “Mackie, anything that has been in your pants, we don’t want it.”

A random voice calls out, “Speak for yourself!”  Emery bites back her laughter at the slightly drunken outburst of her friend Violet, as she and their friend Deb wait for their dance with Frank Grillo.

“See!  That!  That’s what I’m talking about… “ Anthony shouts.  “I’m starting to feel a little uneasy about this.”

“Man, relax.  It’s for charity,” Seb laughs, stepping forward and clapping his friend good naturedly on the shoulder.  He makes eye contact with Jen as she begins to cross the room towards him and winks at her.

“Yea, we bein’ pimped out for charity!” Mackie exclaims clapping his hands and blowing a kiss to his lovely wife, who happens to be waiting in line behind Emery’s friend Tammy to dance with Chris Hemsworth. Frowning, he shakes his finger at her disapprovingly.

“Don’t worry Anthony, our nieces and nephews are coming around with bags for the donations to be placed in. Ladies, be appropriate and remember-”

“Mrs. Evans? What if I want to dance with you?” Robert Downey Jr.’s charming voice booms from the left side of the room.

Shielding her eyes from the spotlight, Emery smiles at the kind man’s suggestion. “Well, aren’t you a sweetie!  Nah, I’ll let you do that for free,” Emery laughs, waving aside his offer.

“No, sweetheart. A deal’s a deal.  It’s for charity.  I got $6000 bucks,” he says, stepping forward and waving his checkbook.

Emery stares at Robert in disbelief, her mouth slightly agape and Chris gently pushes her forward. “For the kids at the hospital? She’s all yours man.”

“Getting rid of me already?! Well, come here, handsome!” Emery laughs as Robert sweeps her off the stage into his arms, gently setting her on the ground.

“Well, I’ll pay $1000 to dance with RDJ,” calls out another sweet Southern drawl.  “I didn’t realize he was on the dance card!”

“Who is that?” Robert looks around in search of the owner of the lovely voice.  “Is that your mother?” he asks Emery his voice full of flirtatious charm.  “I’ll pay another $1000 just to listen to her slow Southern words whispered in my ear as we dance.”

As the DJ begins to play “Dangerous Woman,” at the request of Jen for her dance with Sebastian, Emery pushes Robert away.  “Oh, hell no.  I am not dancing to this with you.  Next song.”  She laughs and grabs her husband instead.

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The couple lean against the doorway, smiling at friends heading outside to enjoy the cool night air and s’mores around the campfire.  Crouching down, Emery helps Miles and Dawson put their gloves on to go outside to join the snowball fight.  “Do you think the Hulk can be on my team?” Miles whispers to the newest member of his family.

“I don’t know, bud.  He’s right behind you, all you gotta do is ask.”  Emery prods him forward and her heart soars when Mark sweeps the little boy over his shoulder and carries him outside, chanting “Hulk loves snow!”

She watches Chris with her dear friends from back home, Lisa, Carol and Jenny, as the ladies say goodnight and wish them the best for their happy futures together.  He kisses each woman gently on the cheek and thanks them for coming, reminding them of the breakfast the next morning before everyone leaves town.

Exhaling slowly Chris pulls his bride close to his side and kisses the top of her head, her curls loose and frizzy from the warmth of the room and a night of dancing and fun.  Murmuring against her temple, he declares: “You look good with kids; you’re gonna be a natural. You know that right?”

“Only ‘cause you know how to balance me,” she admits.  Changing away from the touchy subject of children, she teases, “So, are you still mad we didn’t get married at Disney?”

Chris waves at some friends who are leaving and responds, “You’re forgiven. Mickey Mouse in a Pats jersey on the groom’s cake made up for it, and we’ll be there soon enough.”

“So, where are we going on our honeymoon?  Are you still not telling me?”

“Nope.  It’s a surprise; you’ll find out when we land.  I made sure Mackenzie actually packed you real clothes this time though.”  He smiles at the memory of Emery’s first visit to Boston last Thanksgiving. “And the vows?  You know I didn’t write them at the last minute last night.  Were you happy with those?”

Emery giggles as his hands caress down her arms warming her from the wintery night air at the open doors.  “We said words? In front of the minister?  I don’t remember anything; my heart was pounding so loudly in my ears and I couldn’t stop thinking how handsome you looked.  Did we even say ‘I do?’”  She leans her weary head against is chest.

“Yes, we did, kitten. I do, man and wife, the whole thing…  we can watch the video on the flight tomorrow night.”  He sighs happily, lifting her chin up to meet his joyful blue eyes.  “Hey, I wanted to tell you, before I forget… I’ve never seen you look so beautiful as you do tonight.  This image of you will be burned in my brain forever.  So beautiful, happy, peaceful.”

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“You don’t look too bad yourself,” she smiles, spinning in his arms, crashing her chest against his solid body. He lands against the wall with a quiet ‘oomph.’

He chuckles as he sees her pulls dilate and darken; his kitten wants to play.  “Tired of being the belle of the ball?”  His raspy voice suggests his growing need to leave their friends and family.  “I believe last night you said something about a blowjob the next time you saw me?”

“That could be arranged,” she giggles pressing her lower body closer to his, circling her arms around his neck.  Licking her lips to tease him, she forces his head down so their lips can meet.  Full of promise with a building fire rising behind it, her tongue plays gently along his plump bottom lip but he doesn’t let her in.

Slowly retreating, Chris rests his forehead against hers and quietly inquires, “When can we get outta here?”

Although he’s pulled away from her lips, they are still connected at the waist and he makes his presence known by pulling her even nearer to him.   She chuckles, “Babe, we still have about twenty, maybe thirty minutes.  We haven’t thrown the bouquet or the garter.”

Rising tall he leans back against the wall, looking down at his petite bride, his chosen life partner.  He rolls his eyes.  “Such old-fashioned traditions, kitten.”  He teases as he caresses her cheek, looking over her shoulder briefly to watch their friends enjoy the company of one another.

Shrugging her shoulders, she smirks.  “Just be careful when you climb up under my dress.  Don’t flash the goods.  My underwear disappeared about 20 minutes ago.”  She smiles at his ragged breathing.  She holds her left hand out, turning her hand in the party lights to admire her sparkling wedding ring.  “And the stone on my hand isn’t the largest diamond you’ve given me that I’m wearing right now.”

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She is pulled away by her younger brother Parker for a dance before Chris even has a chance to respond.  She looks over her shoulder and giggles as the meaning of the words dawn on him and his jaw drops. She wiggles her eyebrows flirtatiously and winks at him.  He shakes his finger at her and mouths the words ‘naughty girl.’  The sound of her laughter is carried away with the music and he is caught up in a dance with his older sister Carly.

Later, as the strains of “Don’t Stop Believing” begin and the room goes wild, he catches up to his sweet bride again.  Loud  voices ring out, all chiming in, the crowd mimicking Chris’s rendition with “schinger in a schmokey room, schmell of wine and scheap perfume.”  Chris shakes his head, surprised by the affection the crowd shares for the song simply based on a silly role he once played.

Without words, Emery can sense his pride, but she all out laughs at the scene she sees behind him as she watches their friends Jen and Sebastian leaving the reception hall together.

Pulling her to the center of the dancing circle, he holds her tight and growls in her ear, “Diamond?  Do you mean what I think you mean?”

She winks and smiles, licking her lips seductively, anticipating their wedding night fun back in their shared room soon enough.  “Yes, Mr. Evans. Every little part of me is now yours and you are mine. Forever and always, I’m with you till the end of the line.”

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Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Evans

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Other snapshots from the big event

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This story concludes the second series for Emery and Chris!

Watch for two scheduled follow up stories in the future!

A special thank you to all the ladies featured in the story.  Without your love and support through the last year, this story- these characters- wouldn’t be who they are today.  This has been an amazing experience for me and I owe you my gratitude.  Thanks for being part of my tribe: Lisa, Kaiti, Carol, Jen, Susan, Lillian, Jenny, Violet, Deb, Tammy, Monica, Danielle, Devika, Gitali and Erin

A very special thank you to Whitney (aka mculove1) for creating beautiful wedding portraits for Chris and Emery, featuring actor Chris Evans and actress Rachel Lefevre

A special thank you to Lisa (akathewife101) you know I owe it all to you!  And the wedding ring edit is SPOT ON.  Thank you so much for your unwavering support.

All photos were found on Pinterest.

Click here for the next Emery&Chris story, You Promised: a Honeymoon Drabble

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom