(A.N. There will be some mature content nearing the end of this chapter, so you know if you're old enough to read it, or want to either way, by all means— go right ahead. I tried to make that part as detailed yet clean as possible, meaning I didn't put any dirty talking or any of that stuff. It's a simple love scene. Putting that aside, I hope you like the chapter.)
The wind was whipping through her long hair and his short dirty blond hair as they stood on the railing, gazing out at the sea. Her posture reminded her a bit of the night Brock had saved her from drowning after she'd thrown herself over the Golden Gate Bridge. Just like that night, she could smell the sea calling her to come down and taste the salt water, but, this time, she opted for admiring the scenery and not joining it.
The sun was setting... it was a beautiful sight.
The sight she didn't want to be the last she saw in her life. Not anymore. She didn't want it to end as she once had. No. She wanted it to go on because, at that moment, in Jack's arms, it just felt new, real and amazing. It felt like her life was just beginning, though it really was about to end in a matter of hours. Six, to be exact.
Avery closed her eyes and sighed. This would be the last time Titanic ever saw daylight, she thought sadly, embracing the red of the warmth the sun brought upon her eyelids. Sighing again, she tilted her head back until it rested on Jack's shoulder, causing him to look down at her.
She looked peaceful... though she probably wasn't.
How will I get back? Will I ever get back? I don't know because the possibility of this ship sinking is freakin' high! she had told him.
Jack knew it was selfish to want to keep her, to want her to stay when she was from a world different from his. Literally. He felt bad for how miserable she'd been and he felt guilty for only bringing her in deeper into a world she wasn't part of, but she was the first spark of genuine happiness he'd felt since the last time he'd spent with his parents. He always thought this kind of love would be impossible for him— who would want a lowlife like him? But here she was, a girl who grew up in practically the same way he did— alone and unwanted. A girl who worked her way to the first class and handled herself pretty well, considering she just got thrown overboard into a different era from the one she'd grown up in, into a family she didn't even know. A family she had to push her happiness aside for and please to no end.
Yet here she was now.
Rebelling against the morals she had set for herself to survive there. Rebelling against the wishes of the family she'd fallen into to finally have her happiness. Rebelling because he pushed her into doing so. He knew he should regret making her do so as he really had nothing else to offer her but his love, but he didn't regret it at all. Even less when she'd turn to look at him and smile brightly, all sadness and sorrow vanishing from those piercing blue-green eyes of hers as they gazed upon him; he knew then and there that there was nothing to regret as she was just as happy as he was in that moment he was sure she also wished would last forever.
After a very good long moment of gazing into each other's eyes, Jack smiled and pressed a tender kiss on her forehead before slowly stepping down from the rail and helping her down, with his hands still around her waist.
"Come on," she said, smiling back at him as she began to pull him down the deck. He grinned and quickly grabbed his sketchbook and drawing tools before following her.
"Mind if I ask where we're going?" he asked as she dragged him up to the first class entrance. "You seemed to have turn the tables. Usually I'm the one who's dragging you somewhere!"
Avery laughed. "Can you draw me something?" she asked. He nodded. "Good. You'll need somewhere to draw, Mr. Dawson, so I am taking you to one of my rooms."
"You sure that's..." He thought a moment, straightened up, and raised his eyebrow. "Proper?"
Avery laughed again, when she noticed he had changed his accent at the question as though to imitate Caledon, as they reached the door she was aiming for and unlocked it and walked in, with Jack at her heels.
"It's quite proper, I assure you!" she replied.
Like in a dream, the beautiful woodwork and satin upholstery emerge from the rusted ruin. Jack was overwhelmed by the opulence of the room Avery had lead him into. It was very grand and elegant.
He set his sketchbook and drawing materials on the marble table and began to wander, looking around the overly ornate room.
"This is the sitting room," she told him as she took off her shawl and set it on a chair. "Will this light do?"
"What?" he asked, distractedly looking at the pieces on the mantle piece.
"Don't artists need good light?" she asked. Despite her work being quite extraordinary, she always considered herself an amateur, so she was never sure what kind of atmosphere an artist needed to do his work in.
Jack dragged his finger across the mantle, as though he were checking for non-existent dust, then smiled at her and replied in a French accent. "Zat is true, I am not used to working in such 'orreeble conditions." Though his accent was quite bad, it made Avery laugh, and that was his point in doing so.
He looked around and his eyebrows raised in surprise as he saw the other paintings. "Hey... Monet!" He crouched next to the paintings stacked against the wall.
Avery looked at him, surprised. "You know his work?"
"Of course. Look at his use of color," he told her, motioning to a much more colorful part of the painting. "Isn't he great?"
"I know," she agreed. "It's extraordinary. I would do anything to have some of his work back at home."
"I saw him once, you know," said Jack.
"Really?" Avery asked as she went into the adjoining walk-in wardrobe closet.
He watched her as she walked to a safe. "Well... it was through a hole in this garden fence in Giverny," he admitted, making her laugh. He was fascinated. "But, at least, it was something."
Avery chuckled, then sighed as she looked at the safe. "Caledon insists on lugging this thing everywhere," she said, her brows furrowed as she worked the combination.
"Should I be expecting him anytime soon?" Jack asked.
Avery chuckled again and shook her head. "Not as long as the cigars and brandy hold out."
CLUNK!
She unlocked the safe. Glancing up, she met his eyes in the mirror behind the safe. She opened it and removed the necklace, then held it out to Jack who took it nervously.
"That's nice. What is it? A sapphire?"
"A diamond," she corrected him. "A very rare diamond, called the Heart of the Ocean."
Jack looked at it for a moment before looking at the young girl, curiously. "Isn't this—"
"What my brother's been looking for? Yes. Since, technically, it's mine now, I was thinking of giving it to him when I..." She frowned for a moment, looking at the ground. "If I... oh, you know what I mean!" she finished with a sigh.
Jack nodded gazed at wealth beyond his comprehension.
Letting out another nervous sigh, Avery cleared her throat and said, "I want you to draw me like your French girls, Jack. Wearing this."
Jack nodded, absentmindedly, still studying the jewel in his hands. "Alright."
Feeling daring, she smiled and added, "Wearing only this."
He looked up at her, taken aback by the sudden request, then nodded, speechless.
Avery soon found herself in her bedroom, the only thing clothing her being her robe and the diamond necklace, as she drew the butterfly comb out of her hair. She shook her head and her hair fell free around her shoulders in waves, she noticed, had started to go back from the fiery red it had become to its normal reddish brown. That made her smile; she was tired of being someone she was not.
In the sitting room, Jack was laying out his pencils like surgical tools after changing around the area he would be drawing her in. His sketchbook was already open and ready. He looked up as she came into the room, wearing a silk kimono and smiled as she advanced toward him.
"The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like a porcelain doll," she said, making him chuckle. "As a paying customer." She threw a dime at him, which he caught with ease, still smiling. "I expect to get what I want," she finished with an exaggerated posh accent, making his grin widen.
She stepped back, both of their smiles slightly faltering as she began to part the kimono. The blue stone laid on her creamy breast. Her heart was pounding as she slowly lowered the robe.
Jack looked so stricken, it was almost comical.
The kimono dropped to the floor, and he couldn't help but stare. She was beautiful, creamy and smooth skin— there were a few scars, but, overlooking them, she was as beautiful and perfect as a goddess can be.
Jack sucked in a long breath before pointing on the divan, saying, "Over on the bed— the couch."
Nodding, Avery said, "Tell me when it looks right to you," as she walked over to it. She sat on the divan and laid her body backward into the throw pillows before looking at him again, expectantly, waiting for him to tell her how to position herself.
"Uh... just bend your left leg a little," he instructed her, the nervousness clear in his voice as it was somewhat trembling. "And... and lower your head. Eyes to me. That's it."
As he began to sketch her down, he dropped his pencil and she stifled a laugh as she noticed him trying to keep a straight face.
"Why so serious?" she asked, in a funny tone, scrunching her eyebrows a bit. That made him smile and chuckle as he continued. It was silent for a moment as she watched how his hair fell into eyes and with a quick flick of his head he got it back in place, how he would squint his eyes every now and then while he worked on small details, and how, at one point, as he carefully smudged a line he bit his lower lip and blushed, glancing quickly up at her as though t check if she hadn't noticed, but she did.
"I believe you are blushing, Mr. Big Artiste," she teased, causing him to smile, embarrassed. "I can't imagine Monsieur Monet blushing."
Slightly sweating by now, Jack faked a glare at her and replied, "He does landscapes."
She smiled and chuckled. "I know."
That made him laugh a little and shake his head as he resumed his drawing. She had made a perfect portrait of him without even knowing him, and he wanted to return the favor.
"Just relax your face," he told her softly.
"Sorry," she apologized, closing her eyes.
"No laughing."
She kept her eyes shut for a moment and took a deep breath before reopening them and putting on a straight face, studying Jack as his eyes came up to look at her over the top edge of his sketchpad. Her mind went blank for a moment as she soaked in this image of him into her memory. It was a beautiful image of a beautiful young man. An image she knew she'd carry the rest of her life if she survived the sinking of the Titanic.
Despite his nervousness, Jack drew with sure strokes, and what emerged was the best thing he had ever done. Her pose was languid, her hands beautiful, and her eyes radiate her energy. Her heart was pounding the whole time. It was the most erotic moment of her life... up till then at least.
A few more minutes passed before Jack was done and was signing the drawing. Avery, wearing her kimono again, was leaning on his shoulder, watching, gazing intently at the portrait of her naked body. She was amazed; he had X-rayed her soul.
"Date it, Jack," she murmured softly into his ear, unbeknown to her that that had made him shiver as her eyes were locked on the drawing. "I want to always remember this night."
He did: April 14, 1912.
Avery meanwhile scribbles a note on a piece of Titanic stationary.
"While you're at it," Jack said, making her look up at him curiously. She blinked in surprise when she saw him holding the portrait she'd drawn of him. "Would you mind giving me an autograph?" he asked with a grin on his face.
She smiled and signed her real name at the bottom before handing it back to him as he handed her the portrait he'd just made of her. She accepted the drawing from him, and crossed to the safe in the wardrobe. She put the diamond back in the safe, placing the drawing and the note on top of it, before closing the door with a CLUNK.
In the first class smoking room, Lovejoy entered from the Palm Court through the revolving door and crossed the room toward Hockley. A fire was blazing in the marble fireplace, and the usual fat cats were playing cards, drinking and talking. When Caledon saw Lovejoy, he detached himself from his group and made his way over to him.
"None of the stewards have seen her," Lovejoy informed him.
Caledon scowled and replied in a low but forceful tone, "This is ridiculous, Lovejoy. Find her."
The Titanic glided across an unnatural sea, black and calm as a pool of oil. The ship's lights were mirrored almost perfectly in the black water. The sky was brilliant with stars, a meteor tracing a bright line across the heavens.
On the bridge, Captain Smith peered out at the blackness ahead of the ship. A few silent moments passed before Quartermaster Hitchins brought him a cup of hot tea with lemon. It steamed in the bitter cold of the open bridge. Second Officer Lightoller was next to him, staring out at the sheet of black glass the Atlantic had become.
"I don't think I've ever seen such a flat calm, in twenty-four years at sea," said Lightoller.
"Yes, like a mill pond," the Captain agreed. "Not a breath of wind."
"It's make the bergs harder to see, with no breaking water at the base."
Smith nodded, then sighed. "Mmmmm. Well, I'm off. Maintain speed and heading, Mr. Lightoller."
"Yes sir."
"And wake me, of course, if anything becomes in the slightest degree doubtful."
Avery, fully dressed now, returned to the sitting room, where Jack stood waiting for her. They froze when they heard a key in the lock, though Avery was first to react as she took Jack's hand and lead him silently through the bedrooms.
Lovejoy entered by the sitting room door. "Miss Rose? Hello?" He heard a door opening and went through Caledon's room toward hers, but no one was there.
Avery and Jack came out of her stateroom, closing the door. She lead him quickly along the corridor toward the B Deck foyer. They were halfway across the open space when the sitting room door opens in the corridor and Lovejoy came out. The valet saw Jack with Avery and hustled after them.
Eyes widening, Avery exclaimed, "Run!" And she and Jack broke into a run, surprising the few ladies and gentlemen about. Avery lead him past the stairs to the bank of elevators. They ran into one, shocking the hell out of the operator.
"Take us down," she commanded. "Quickly, quickly!"
The Operator scrambled to comply. Jack even helped him close the steel gate. Lovejoy ran up as the lift started to descend and slammed one hand on the bars of the gate. Deciding to just be herself, Avery made a very rude and unladylike gesture, and laughed as Lovejoy disappears above.
The Operator gaped at her.
She looked at him and shrugged nonchalantly. "Never judge a book by its cover, my good sir," she told him, dropping the British accent she'd had to use for days, making Jack laugh.
When they emerged from the lift, Jack practically fell out, bumping into a passing steward, making Avery snicker.
"Sorry," he apologized, laughing as well as he took Avery's hand and they continued running.
They descended another staircase that lead down to the F-Deck: a functional space, with access to a number of machine spaces (fan rooms, boiler uptakes). As they reached the bottom, Jack practically crashed into another steward, apologizing again, through his laughter and continued to run down the hall until their reached the middle and he and Avery stopped, leaning against a wall, laughing.
Lovejoy emerged from another lift and ran to the one Jack and Rose were in, where the Operator was just closing the gate to go back up. Lovejoy ran around the bank of elevators and scanned the foyer... no Jack and Avery. He then scurried toward a staircase, not giving up the chase.
"Pretty tough for a valet, this fella," Jack commented after their laughter had slightly dimmed down. "He seems more like a cop!"
"I think he was. He's an ex-Pinkerton.... whatever the hell that is," she told him, making him laugh. "Cal's father hired him to keep him out of trouble... to make sure he always got back to the hotel with his wallet and watch, after some crawl through the less reputable parts of town..."
Jack grinned and advanced toward her. He took her hands and leaned his head down toward hers. "Kinda like we're doin' right now, huh?" His grin never faltering, he leaned further down, about to kiss her, but stopped himself when he saw someone passed the small round window of the door they were leaning beside. He squinted his eyes, unsure of what he was seeing, then groaned. "Shit!"
Avery followed his gaze and her eyes soon widened like a deer caught in daylight.
"Go!" she exclaimed.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her back into a ran, but Lovejoy had already spotted them and had begun charging toward them. Jack and Avery ran around a corner into a blind alley. There was one door, marked 'CREW ONLY', and Jack flung it open. They entered a roaring ran room, with no way out but a ladder going down. Jack latched the deadbolt on the door, and Lovejoy slammed against it a moment later.
Jack grinned at Avery, pointing to the ladder. "Mind if I go first, m'lady?"
"By all means," she replied, motioning toward their only exit.
The pair came down the escape ladder and looked around in amazement. It was like a vision of hell itself, with the roaring furnaces and black figures moving in the smoky glow. They ran the length of the boiler room, dodging amazed stokers, and trimmers with their wheelbarrows of coal.
"Oi! Hold up! What are you two doing down here?" one of of the workers asked them. They looked at him. "You shouldn't be down here, it could be dangerous!"
But they dismissed his warning and resumed their running.
"Carry on! Don't mind us!" Jack shouted over the din, making Avery laugh. "You're doing a great job— keep up the good work!"
They ran through the open watertight door into Boiler Room Six. Jack pulled her through the fiercely hot alley between two boilers and they wound up in the dark, out of sight of the working crew. Watching from the shadows, they saw the stokers working in the hellish glow, shoveling coal into the insatiable maws of the furnaces. The whole place thundered with the roar of the fires.
Amid unparalleled luxury, Caledon sat at a card game, sipping brandy.
"We're going like hell, I tell you," said Colonel Gracie. "I have fifty dollars that says we make it into New York Tuesday night!"
Caledon looked at his gold pocket watch, and scowled, not listening.
In the boiler room, the furnaces roared, silhouetting the glistening stokers. Jack pulled Avery back and locked eyes with her, as though he were silently asking permission for what he was about to do next. When she didn't recoil, he leaned down, and though still somewhat hesitant, kissed her, tasting the sweat trickling down from her forehead. When she didn't pull away, he slipped a hand at the back of her neck and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. They kissed passionately in the steamy, pounding darkness. Their tongues met in the fiery kiss. The heat between their lips made a moan escape Avery's lips as he slid his hands down to her waist, his lips finding their way back and forth between her neck and her lips. She felt the hot friction between them become unbearable, yet they didn't stop as they were so lost into each other.
Finally, needing air, Avery pulled away and they both looked at each other for a moment before laughing. He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the steamy corridor toward another door.
When he opened it, they found themselves facing rows of stacked cargo. She hugged herself against the cold, after the dripping heat of the boiler room, as they came upon William Carter's brand new Renault touring car, lashing down to a pallet. It looked like a royal coach from a fairy tale, its brass trim and headlamps nicely set off by its deep burgundy color. Avery climbed into the plushly upholstered back seat, acting very royal. There were cut crystals bud vases on the walls back there, each containing a rose. Jack jumped into the driver's seat, enjoying the feel of the leather and wood, and honked the horn.
"Where to, Miss?" he asked in a posh accent.
Avery laughed and leaned forward, bringing her lips to his ear. "To the stars!" she whispered.
He looked at her and laughed when she suddenly pulled him over the seat into the back. He landed next to her, and his breath seemed loud in the quiet darkness. He looked at her, wrapping an arm around her, his other hand holding onto hers, fingers intertwining.
It was the moment of truth.
"Are you nervous?" he breathed out the question.
Avery shook her head, giving him a small smile. "No," she murmured.
He stroked her face, cherishing her. She grabbed his hand again and kissed his fingers; he had such fine hands, artists' hands, but strong too... roughened by work. She knew if she survived that night, she would always remember his tender touch.
"Make love to me, Jack," she whispered. He watched her as she guided his hand down to her breast, then, without wasting another second, he devoured her mouth with his, as she slid down in the seat under his welcome weight.
Her tongue was dancing within his mouth and she couldn't suppress the fire that was building up inside of her like a slow erupting volcano. She felt his hands moving around her body, and the next thing she knew, her clothes along with his were on the floor of the car and they were staring into each other's eyes as though to confirm that this was really happening. As though to make sure that they were both real and both really there.
When they seemed to get there answer, merely within a second, their lips had crashed back together. He drank into her like he'd never tasted anything so sweet, so necessary and never with so much lust than for this girl that had made him wait, though it had only been for three days.
When they pulled away, her eyes closed as she tried to calm down her breathing, listening to his loud and rapid heartbeat beating against his sweaty chest that was pressed against hers. She felt his warm breath hit her around the ear, feeling his lips trace the outline of the skin. She shivered as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear, moving downward to tug at her earlobe. It was gentle, but feisty at the same time. The tips of his dirty blond hair skimmed across her right cheek, his arms tightening around her waist as he lifted her tad bit as he pressed the head of his member against her womanhood. He felt the head twitch with excitement as he begin to invade her. He throbbed madly inside of her while he slowly pushed himself all the way into her. His groan of pleasure was muffled by her shoulder and he bit it gently, causing her to gasp, not from the bite, but from the slight pain the sudden penetration brought along. It wasn't as painful as she expected it to be, though the pain was still there along with pure bliss as he opened her.
Once he was buried to the hilt, he stopped, lifting his head from her shoulder. "Are you okay?"
She let out a soft breath and nodded her head slowly. "Yeah, it's just... this is my first time," she whispered.
He gave her a slightly tired grin and kissed her jaw. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, it's my first time too," he murmured.
She smiled a bit before she started moving her hips against his. He took that as a go and resumed his action. Drawing out slowly, he thrust forward into her as she hung on to him, her hips moving to meet his as they moved as one.
His wet hair fell into his eyes and moved back and forth in rhythm to their movements, and unsteady breathing, and between the slick sounds of sex and humid air, the windows of the Renault had fogged up. After a moment, he paused and he pressed his lips to hers, then resumed his movements, forcing himself more. It wasn't long until he could feel her tighten; constricting him, hearing her moan his name as if that was the only word she knew. The warmth of her climax slipped down his member. At this point she didn't expect him to last much longer, but he did.
He leaned back and lifted her leg over his hip, grabbing her by the hips, her arms still around his neck. He lifted her with him, so she straddled his legs, and their thrusting continued. They're bodies were rubbing together; he kissed her neck, breasts, shoulders and mouth, whispering her name against her ear, and moaning against her body.
Albeit them being in a car and somewhat on the run, there was a completeness to having Jack's body heat curling around her like a warm blanket, and a tenderness to his arms holding her. His skin was glossy with a thin sheen of sweat, his hair falling from where it usually stayed parted, away from his eyes. She stroked his shoulders, gently digging her nails into his back when more waves of pleasure and climax overtook her body.
Then she felt it, his chest tightened, and he slumped forward against her. He began to thrust up against her, and she knew he wasn't going to last very long. She let herself fall back into the seat of the Renault and Jack take charge again. His thrusts became more erratic, his breathing coming in short gasps. Under the impact of each thrust, Avery subconsciously put on arm around his neck to keep herself in place, and the other came up and slammed against the fogged up glass of the rear window for a moment, making a hand-print in the veil of condensation.
"Jack..." she moaned his name again, arching into him, pulsing her muscles around him. He thrust into her a few more times before he felt that deep pang within his chest as the pleasure surged hard through him, it felt like electricity hit him as his body froze, his manhood buried deep into her.
He pulled out of her and let out a shaky breath as his body trembled as he came down of the high. He lay on top of her as she drew the overcoat he snatched over them like a blanket.
It stirred a bit and Avery pulled it a bit down. They were huddled under it, intertwined, their faces flushed as they look at each other wonderingly. She put her hand on his face, as if making sure he was real.
"You're trembling," she whispered.
He gave her a tender look, smiled and replied, "Don't worry, I'm alright." He kissed her again, then slid down, laying his cheek against her chest, feeling her lips press softly against his forehead. "I can feel your heart beating."
She smiled softly and hugged his head to her chest, and just held on for dear life as sadness began to take over her once more.
Less than four hours left...