Los Angeles, California - One Year Later

"Are you sure?" JC asked, taking a swig of beer straight from the bottle. "Because I can drive." Teasing her, he gave her a wide mischievous grin, knowing that he was too drunk and not capable of driving them home. "Really."

"Sure you are, silly," Rae laughed, wrapped her arms around his waist, and nipped his chin before she kissed him. "Give me those keys." She reached into his front pants pocket.

With her so close, he caught the scent of her rose attar perfume. "Mmm, baby," he set the bottle on top of the top of the car, and pulled her closer letting her ride his thigh. "You start that now and we'll never get home." He growled, crushing his stirred erection into her.

A perfect fit—Scarlett Rae Arata was his, literally. A week from tonight, she'd marry him and be Mrs. Chasez. It would be a day of contradicting emotions – weirdness and completion. Some have said that Hell has frozen over because that was what he had promised it would take for him to settle for one woman. But a few short months ago, to him, monogamous rhymed with monotonous for a reason.

The character he'd carried around for some time could be summed up with words like “cynical” and “broody”. When Rae breezed into his life in that grocery store parking lot a mere year ago, she changed him. With one glance his way and a smile to his heart, she had him in the palm of her hand. And the first time they stepped into a studio together, she had become the one. Sitting on a stool with earphones covering her ears, her voice had become his paint brush on a blank canvas.

By the end of the session, he had memorized every rise and fall of her voice with his lyrics and musical notes. Every day thereafter, he fell deeper in love with his muse, shining in every piece of work. She had given soul to his emotions.

"The quicker you let me drive you home," her free hand dipped down the front of his jeans, and stroked the length of him. She palmed the head, squeezed it until he groaned in pleasure. "The faster you and I can be tucked warmly, taking care of you."

Reluctantly, he pulled away, "Deal." He fished the car keys out of his pocket, handed them over and retrieved the bottle he placed on top of the car. "You drive... I'll get drunker."

Once inside the car, Rae laughed, breathy, and melodious. "Josh, honey," she turned the engine over while stepping on the gas a few times, revving it before she backed out the parking space, and out of the lot. "I don't think it's possible for you to be drunker than you already are." It began to mist, which quickly turned into pelting drops. She switched the windshield wipers on high speed.

"Oh, I can but I don't think you want me to." He said laughingly, noticing the interior lights from the driving panel cast a low glow on her beautiful face, making her seem other worldly, ethereal. As intoxicated as he was, his artistic eye brushed over the curves of her pout. He wanted to kiss her and never stop. "I'd pass out. You'd have to drag me into the house."

"I'd leave you in the car and take advantage of you where you were."

"Well, truth be told, you can't really take advantage of the willing," he wagged his eyebrows, even though she couldn't see him in the dark.

~~Hours later~~

She woke to the sound of a door slamming somewhere. It'd startled her, and she sat up in bed, glancing about the dark room. Ah, that explained it. He wasn't in bed with her, and she sorely missed the warmth of his body nearby. With a groan, she simply fell back against the pillows, allowing their comfort to cocoon her like warm hands. It would take time to find the strength to move from her bed, to actually wake up, and follow where he had disappeared. Their clothes were scattered about the bedroom floor, discarded until the next morning. It was night time still, a few hours before day break. Her hair was mussed from sleep, styling products from the previous night being ungentle to her.

Curiosity pulled her towards the door.

The hallway was dark, the entire house was wrapped in night's robe. It was their house, and yet, the darkness splayed out before her made her uneasy. She knew enough to stumble forward, touching her hand across the wall as she cleared the hall. The stairs, winding down to the main foyer, came next. Like a slumbering beast with its wooden steps ready to swallow her feet, she started down them. Her weight caused them to creak beneath her, and it bothered her. The murmurs of the home settling on a silent night crept up and down her spine.

Unfolding to the right of the stairs was the mass of the living room, and at last, a small lamp was lit. She raced down the last few steps towards that light, and ended at it. Her lips pursed. This just didn't seem right. Shit. She was naked, and she'd forgotten that. And for some reason, the door to the living room was wide open, sending in a light breeze that tickled across her skin. Her head tilted in the dim light as she could have sworn that something had been slammed. If not this door then what? Finding courage from somewhere unknown to her, her feet crept forward towards the gaping threshold. For a second, she poked her head into the night. The car was still there, sitting on the drive, like she'd parked it a few hours ago.

With the door shut behind her, replaced with the lock in its place, the silenced greeted her on again and still he was nowhere to be seen. On near silent feet, she found herself in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, trying to keep herself calm. She heard it, the clink outside the back door. Taking a final look around the kitchen, illuminated by the dim light over the range, she saw the clues to the answer she sought. Plastic white tubes of various colors lay scattered on a small drop cloth on the counter beside the sink. One lonesome paintbrush lain amidst the disorder.

She smiled.

He wore many hats in this life, and all of which he was dominated. And each made her fall a little more in love with him. But, in the end, he donned is best hat of an artist. Music, art, poetry – give him a muse and he gave you a masterpiece. Deciding to not interrupt him, she would just go back upstairs and await his return. That was the plan. Until something brushed across her leg, fabric, and her wrists were suddenly in the grasp of a stranger's. His body was pressed into the back of her, looming, as she fought the initial panic that rose up to claw at her throat. There were no words in the darkness that surrounded them, but the bare skin that pressed up to her own was warm. So warm and she was cold so I welcomed that embrace, she welcomed it until she felt teeth grazing her ear and his breath on her neck.

Oh, but she knew that body. She knew it well and it didn't bother her any longer. If such a gamed he wanted to play, she wouldn't ruin it. She'd embrace the challenge with a grin. And I did smile even as she tried to struggle away. In response, the grip on her wrists tightened, his bite became almost too much, and she cried out, softly. Reacting to her, he pressed firmer against her form, and his lips issued a sound. One of want, need, and weakness all together. She managed to turn herself to face him. She leaned, tipped her head upward, to stare into his soul and to capture his lips. The hands that held her loosened, but his hips pressed her further against the cabinets, trapped there against him. Her arms, now freed, slid around his neck and pulled him closer.

Her bare breasts pushed against his chest as his lips parted to her onslaught. Tasting him, she explored his mouth as if she hadn't just explored him only a short time ago. Every journey was a first time. She explored every intimate crevice of his mouth, until he grunted, and drew away for a breath. There were no words between them. Only actions. Words never failed them. Words were extra. His hands found her hips, tracing circles against them before gripping them. Decorating them with small half-moons from his nails and his grip. Soon, her lips met the flesh of his neck. Kissing up one side, to the hollow beneath his ear, she captured the lobe. It was his delirium. Her teeth biting down and tugging at it, and the final blow to his composure was the tip of her tongue against it.

She tried to slide down his body, but found that his grip on her hips kept her upright, from doing as she wanted to. Playfully, she glared up at him and his responding grin sent a whisper of heat low. It was a wicked expression, full of promises and threats.

There was a flush to her cheeks; even in the darkness she felt that such heat was visible to him. Jerking her away from the cabinets, she was thrown to the floor. Roughly, but she could care less. Fumbling to move onto her knees, she felt him kneel behind her. Fingers dragged along her spine, and her body shivered at the sensations that his calloused fingertips brought her. His laughter, warm and thick, taunted her. Such a thing to please him.

There was nothing more she longed for in that moment than for him to fill her wholly. Bringing sparks from her fingertips and a fiery passion from the depths of her being. For him name to fall from her lips, over and over again. But, she kept the desire to herself, the silence heavily blanketing them. It would be sinful to disturb it. Taken from these heavenly thoughts, she was forced into reality by his length. Reality was even sweeter than her fantasies. And it was torture, both torture and pleasure. He teased her, his length moving inside of her until steadily. In, out, in out...oh she was dying. Close to that hot spill of pleasure, he ripped it away from her. Stopping, and changing the rhythm entirely.

Each time, his laughter would fill her senses. She writhed for him, moaned for him, until her breathing was heavy and unreachable. Frustration began setting in her bones, the harshness of the marble floors digging into her knees. She could not last much longer, and it seemed the pleasure would go on forever.

“Please,” she whispered, voice so harshly low that she was sure that he hadn't heard her.

But there was a pause in the rhythm, he'd stopped still buried to the hilt. She felt his filling her, stretching her walls, as she shifted to get more comfortable. Turning back to look at him, He was grinning, clearly amused by this act of begging. And she was rewarded. Just that length, filling her, made her writhe and she searched for something to grasp onto but there was nothing she could grasp.

She couldn't do it any longer. Shifting, her cheek rested against the cool floor and her ass was raised in the air. Tired of holding her weight, she whimpered. She couldn't help the sound, because she was beyond frustrated. He'd taken her so close to the edge, only to yank her back unceremoniously.

He took this as a sound of encouragement because he drew out and, not seconds later, rammed back in. She gasped, closing my eyes, and allowed her body to speak on her behalf. She clenched, tightly, as he thrusted for a second time and soon came to find a rhythm. At first, the strokes were leisurely, slow, but soon they had become a force of want, need, and his hands gripped the rounded flesh of her ass.

His breath traced down her body, heavy, as his hips increased their tempo. She was crying, and screaming out by the time that her senses rolled over. Pleasure completely taking hold of her body. It was a great, tall wave of pleasure, curling her toes, and throwing her head back. She screamed his name into the night, the sound echoes throughout the walls, but she didn't care. Her fingers dug painfully into her arms, but it was just another pleasure, as she marked herself up and down. If his flesh had been within reach, he would've had marks spewing blood from the furrows.

She spasmed, back arching, as his own released neared. She could feel it, because his rhythm faltered. Thrusts becoming crazed as he drove deeper and harder into her, over and over. Her screams never quieted, still held captive in the clutches of pleasure. Then, his warmth filled me. His strong body froze above mine, still buried deep inside. A fine sheen of sweat covered them both as he curled against her back, his arm wrapped around her waist. They could feel each other's heartbeat through her back and his chest. It was thumping a frantic beat as she found her throat attempting to speak the only thing that she knew for sure in these throws of irrationality:

“I love you.”

His smile caressed her shoulder blade. He spoke, but she felt his words against her skin better than she heard his rasp:

“Always my muse”