"Oh my god, if this girl bites her fucking lip one more time..."
"Baby, if it's so bad, stop reading it."
"I can't stop!" Liz giggled, "It's so bad it's good, you know? And Al said I needed to read them all. She's gonna quiz me."
Dave only shook his head and returned to his own book, one about the political impact the punk scene had made on DC that she'd found for him. He'd been in the middle of paying for their coffee for the short flight to Ireland when she set four books down on the counter beside him.
"Oh, Fifty Shades. My wife loves these," the clerk chuckled and winked at Dave, "You'll love 'em once she's read them through, mate."
Her legs were stretched across his as she sat sideways in her seat, occasionally reaching over to hold his hand when they weren't turning pages. She'd occasionally huff, roll her eyes, laugh or even gasp at her book until finally she set it down in her lap.
"They just stopped making dinner to have sex on the kitchen floor."
This time, he didn't bother to look up. "So? We've done that."
"Yeah, but she's trying to qualify the phrase 'Put the chicken in the fridge' as sexy."
"Maybe I'm just not saying it right." Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her knuckles turn white as she gripped the binding of the book and looked up at her half smile, "What?"
"Nothing."
Slowly closing his book, he tried to think back through their conversation to figure out what she was getting at but came up empty. "No, really... what?"
"I just think you have a very sexy voice, that's all."
He'd come to that conclusion on his own over a year ago when he figured out that growling just the right words in her ear could practically make her come on demand, but she was getting at something and he was determined to figure out what it was.
"I'm gonna... go... fix my hair," she said slowly, pulling her legs from his lap to stand.
He watched her leave, raising an eyebrow at her when she looked back at him from the rear of the tiny plane and tilted her head to the bathroom door.
"Goddamnit, Elizabeth," he whispered to himself, settling back into his seat to wait a few minutes before following her.
The early morning flight was full of jaded business travelers and tired American tourists, and he stuck out like sore thumb among all the sensible suits and camera straps, but no one seemed to pay him any attention when he strolled down the aisle of the plane. He was sure the flight attendant knew what he was up to when he gave him a smile and a nod as they passed each other in the aisle, but when the door opened and Liz's garnet ring flashed out to drag him in against her, he found he didn't really care who knew.
Still, he whispered sarcastically at her, "That was subtle, Elizabeth."
"Oh, who cares," she shrugged and reached up to kiss him as if they had time for it.
Spinning her around by the shoulders, he held her still in front of the tiny sink and rolled her leggings down her hips, thinking he'd put up with airports every damn day if that's what she'd wear. "We could have done this on the plane over from the States," he breathed against her ear, watching her reaction in the mirror, "The one that had an actual bed?"
"This is way more fun, David," she whispered back and arched her back enough to press her ass against his shorts. "And you apparently... agree."
Her smug smile dropped and her hand shot out to brace herself on the wall when he unzipped his shorts and pushed himself into her with a groan, "You reminded me of the first time we fucked in our kitchen, baby. Does it for me every time."
"Is that why you moved the coffee maker?" she murmured, her eyes falling closed as he worked into her.
"I like to start the day thinking about how fucking amazing you feel."
She whimpered and pushed back against him, upsetting his tempo only briefly. Knowing she was already close he kept one hand on her lower back and reached forward with the other to pull on her chin. "You're biting your lip, Elizabeth."
He fully expected that to do her in, he even had his arm ready to catch her in case her legs gave out, but instead of shuddering and collapsing against him, her green eyes flashed to his in the mirror. Watching her in dazed fascination, she held his stare as she took his finger in her mouth and sucked hard.
"Fuck," he pitched forward against her back and moaned into her shoulder, his head swimming at the sudden change in control.
He was close, so close that the air started to leave his lungs and the little white stars began to sparkle at the edges of his sight, but when she bit down gently on his knuckle and moaned he knew he was done for. Vaguely aware that she was in the middle of her own ecstasy, he wound his arm around her and held her as close as he could manage, feeling her heart drumming against his own.
She was trailing a line of kisses up his wrist and buckling his belt when he finally came to and he let her lean him against the wall while she put herself back together. He watched her, taking in the way she pulled her hair up and into a knot, the way she smiled when she met his eyes in the mirror, the way her skin flushed pink after they fooled around... everything about her was in full color again.
It was as if she had been in a deep winter, pulled underground by the heaviness of snow only to return with the warmth and bloom back into a bigger, brighter, better version of what she had been before. He'd been through winters of his own, but he'd always come out on the other side feeling like he'd left something behind. Still, he was called resilient even though he never quite felt like he'd earned that title and now he could just point to her if people wanted to see true resiliency. "Just look at her," he could say, "Just look at her."
Once they were coherent and put back together, he made her go back to their seats first and allowed himself a good five minutes to catch his breath before following. The second he collapsed into the chair, her head was on his shoulder and she handed him a fresh coffee.
"The flight attendant knew, didn't he," he said quietly, scanning the small plane for any signs of him.
Liz just laughed into her sip of coffee, "He totally knew."
The spent the rest of the short flight either looking out the window onto the deep green landscape below or sitting in comfortable silence, their hands clasped together and her head on his shoulder. It wasn't until the plane finally landed and parked at the gate before either of them had any desire to move.
"Oh, that's the one I haven't read yet!" Liz jumped in surprise as an elderly woman leaned into their space and pointed a sharp hot pink fingernail at the book on her lap. "How is it?" she exclaimed in a deep southern accent that reminded Dave of northern Florida.
"So good," Liz said with an exaggerated nod and reluctantly sat up. "I've actually finished it, would you like to have it?"
"Oh my goodness, I couldn't just-"
"Of course you can," Liz insisted, thrusting it towards the woman, "Books are meant to be shared."
"Well that's so kind of you, young lady!" she drawled and looked up at Dave, "Looks like you have a Mr. Grey of your own anyway!"
"Oh...," Liz swiveled around to look at him, "No, this one is much, much better."
*
"Do you want to get more coffee before we pick up the car or see if we can find a place to eat on our way out of town?" Dave had flown into Cork enough times to know the town and had a specific pub in mind that he knew she'd love.
"Car first, please," she said distractedly while scrolling through something on her phone and turned sharply down a long corridor that ran parallel to the drop off curb outside. "This way."
"Babe?"
She looked up at his voice while Dave pointed to the sign above her head announcing that car rental was the opposite direction and heard her swear under her breath.
"Fuck," and then a bit louder, "What if you humored me just this one time?"
He looked her over, wondering what the hell she was up to while she wound her arms around his waist and tipped her head back to look at him, "Please?"
He sighed in faux frustration and adjusted the bag slung across his back. He'd probably spent half his life in airports at that point, what was an extra twenty minutes? "Fine."
"Great," she dragged him behind her through the sliding glass doors and into the Irish breeze, "Wait here, I'll be right back."
She was out of his arms and halfway across the street to the parking garage before he could stop her and was about to follow when she yelled back at him. "I mean it, David! Wait there!"
So he did, pulling his hat down low, fidgeting nervously with his phone and lighting a cigarette before he couldn't take it anymore. Just as he was about to step off the curb, a custom Harley Street Glide roared up to the curb with his wife in the saddle.
"I thought I told you to wait, Grohl," her smile was wide even from behind a full face helmet.
"What the fuck is that?" He pointed to the bike with the last of his cigarette, watching her as she kicked the stand down and climbed off.
"It's ours for the week! I thought you'd like this better than dragging a Ford Fiesta all the way to Dublin," she pulled off her helmet and shook her hair out, but her smile faded the longer it took him to answer. "I had our bags sent ahead," she said quickly, "If you're not up for it we can totally get a car, but I... thought..."
The bike was gorgeous. Low slung and matte black with handpainted bright green pinstripes across the tank and fairings, it definitely wasn't a rental. It meant she had taken the time to find his favorite bike in the wilds of Ireland and somehow convince the owner to let them rip it up the M8 for a few days. The Elizabeth he'd grown accustomed to over the past several weeks would never have done such a thing, but the Liz he'd met that night in the green room... the girl that showed no fear of his fame or status, the girl that met him head-on in every challenge he threw at her, that girl definitely would have.
He noticed her shoulders slump a little when he stepped back to toss the rest of his cigarette in the trash and dove toward her, grabbing her face a bit rougher than he had intended. "I fucking missed you so much."
Her eyes clouded for a split second when she picked up on his meaning, "I missed me, too."
He kissed her hard enough that a passing car beeped its horn at them but he only let up when he knew she was out of air. "It's not stolen, is it?"
"Um...," she looked the bike over and wrinkled her nose a bit. "Probably not?"
"Good enough."
Her smile sent a jolt straight to his very core and for the first time since they had started planning this long-belated honeymoon, he was excited. Darting toward the bike with her in tow, he yanked on the spare helmet and helped her put on the backpack that had been their only carry-on. He was just about to swing his leg over the bike when the thought occurred to him, "Wait. You don't want to take your own bike?"
"I'm not up for it just yet," she said simply, "I'd much rather ride with you anyway."
He stared at her for a beat, letting her know he heard and appreciated the monumental shift she had to make to say those words out loud. Settling into the seat, he held his arm out to help her on and kept his hand pressed into her thigh when she wrapped herself around him in a hug rather than just holding on. It was brief, she pulled away and scooted back onto the pillion after a few seconds, but he wasn't done with her yet.
Firing up the bike, he got a feel for the bars and the gauges then hooked his hands under the backs of her knees and yanked her forward so she was against him again. Her yelp was drowned out by the growl of the bike, but with her arms tight around him once again, he kicked it into gear, pulled the throttle and they leaped into traffic.
She was back.