Hummingbird Heartbeat

The third Friday of every other month is Karaoke Night with the crew.

I couldn’t remember whose idea it originally was, or how we all came to agree to this, but it had, somehow, become something of a tradition. Not that I particularly minded it. In fact, the regular gathering had been a most welcome distraction at some of the busiest and most difficult of times in our lives. And at other more uneventful periods, it was simply nice to be able to get together with old friends and enjoy each other’s company.

Nevermind that Ezio and Edward usually hogged the stage, despite neither having the greatest singing voice. Or that Connor and Shao Jun actually do, but always took a few rounds to lure them into participating.

The night usually proceeded in a routine: Altair would do his rendition of a Queen number, Arno would serenade Elise with some jazzy tune worthy of Ol’ Blue Eyes himself, Desmond would drunkenly attempt (and usually fail) at rap, and Henry would share a duet with Evie.

Tonight was one of those nights.

It was my turn at the mic and, on a whim, I decided to ditch my usual ballads. The familiar beats of Katy Perry’s "Hummingbird Heartbeat" began playing. I turned to Connor, mischief in my eyes, a coy smile on my lips, and declared, "This one is dedicated to my darling sweetheart." A few whistles and awws rang out from the audience.

“You make me feel like I’m losing my virginity, the first time every time when you touchin’ me,” I started the first couple lines of the lyrics, and nearly lost it at his reaction.

Connor, finding himself suddenly the apparent center of attention, had a lovely shade blooming across his cheeks to the tips of his ears as Jacob and Ezio elbowed him while wagging their brows. Meanwhile, Shay and Aveline batted his arms and laughed good-naturedly.

Ever the proper gentleman, Haytham looked between his son and I, expression caught somewhere between being amused and mortified, while Ziio chuckled with a shake of her head. Edward, on the other hand, guffawed a hearty laugh and clapped his grandson on the back, roaring "That's my boy!"

Looking over the lively scene, I couldn’t help but also feel a trickle of laughter. Thus inspired, I swayed to the tune in a shimmy of a dance as I continued through the song, “You spread my wings and make me fly. The taste of your honey is so sweet. You give me that hummingbird heartbeat.”

It was playful and fun, but also, I hoped, sincere in my affections.

The night devolved after that as the rest of crew belted out song after song, all of which were various degrees of suggestive. Some hilarious, some genuinely provocative. It was seduction. It was having a good time with friends and loved ones. We drank, we danced, we sang until our voices were all hoarse, and we laughed until tears formed on the corners of our eyes.

It was early morning when the bar finally kicked the whole group out. We broke off in twos and threes, stumbling and supporting one another.

Connor and I headed home together. He didn't drink, of course. He's not fond of the habit. I was a bit tipsy though and clung to him with my head buried to his side. And perhaps it was the alcohol in my blood, or perhaps it was the excitement of the night, the lyrics still ringing in my ears, I felt daring, and jittery. I edged over to kiss him, almost missing by inches.

He became flustered, both because I was being confident and forward, but probably also because he was driving and we needed to get home. And "How much did you drink anyways?"

"Not enough to be unaware of what I'm doing," I grazed a hand over his zipper. He quickly moved it away, snatching my wrist and steering with one hand.

"Not here," he scolded without reproach, "We're almost home."

Not that I’d ever admit to it, but quite possibly, I pouted. I relented regardless, throwing my arms around his shoulders instead. I leaned from the passenger seat, nuzzled his neck, planted little kisses there, and darted a tongue over his earlobe. He let out delicious little groans at my ministrations, but made no move to interrupt me.

Finally, we pitched to a stop and got out of the car. I wasted no time to pounce and slid an impatient tongue over his warm, full lips while he caught me in his arms.

We staggered through the hallway, fervent kisses and grasping hands. He fumbled with the keys as we reach the door, and slammed it shut behind us with his foot as we tumbled through the foyer, ragged breath hot on my cheeks.

I pushed him up against the wall and chased his mouth with my own, kissing him like it was the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, like air only existed in the spaces between us. He grabbed me by the hips, and in one smooth motion, switched our position so I was pinned now with my back against the wall. I leaped up, wrapped my legs around his back, and clutched with my arms around his neck.

We were both riled up then. I slipped my hand under his shirt, tugged at his belt, pulling it loose. He freed me from my own jeans, frantically. We were momentarily apart, and then I got my legs around him again. He rammed me back against the wall and I let loose a startled yelp from the force.

“You have no idea what I wanted to do to you all night,” he breathed into my ears, a low and rumbling sound.

“Oh, I think I have some ideas of my own,” I managed over uneven heaves.

We both still had our shirts on, but it didn’t matter. He shoved one hand under my bra as the other one held me in place. With a roll of my hips I ground against his arousal, feeling my own soaking through my underwear. He growled, rough and tense, and I couldn’t help the shivers running down my spine. He rutted back, the friction through the thin fabric of my panties igniting every nerve.

I ran my hands through his hair. He nipped at the nape of my neck. The hard surface at my back dug into my shoulder blades and sent slight throbs of pain through me but also sparks of pleasure. It’s probably going to bruise later. And I couldn’t find it in myself to care.

We somehow ended up in the kitchen, losing pieces of clothing along the way.

I was propped up on the center island, by the edge of the counter, him hot between my legs, the marble cold beneath my skin. His firm grip suspended my bottom in air, the small of my back curving off the surface, and I was gripping the side of the counter with knuckles turning white from the force to keep in place.

He hoisted my legs over his shoulders. I’m all bared for him to see. I should’ve felt vulnerable, and small (which I am, I suppose, compared to this bear of a man). But I have never felt unsafe with him. His stare held mine, and he dipped his head toward my eager heat. He brushed a soft kiss to the inside of one of my thigh, then the other, a tantalizing and lingering touch, spiraling toward the center. He darted a tentative lick at my sodden folds then. My breaths hitched, my hips lurched. And in the intensity of his gaze, in the sweeps of his tongue, I saw‒ I felt, adoration.

His skillful mouth coaxed me open, my voice bubbled out in heady moans, my nails scraped over his scalp. He pushed a finger into me, then another, as he sucked and laved at my sensitive spot. He worked me up and took me apart, until I was trembling and whimpering and clamping down with shaking thighs.

I need him. Want him. To be over me, under me, in me and around me. I wasn’t sure what I was saying, if I was voicing these thought out loud or if they were just floating somewhere in my muddled mind. But he seemed to have heard me nonetheless, straining under the zeal of his own passion. He poised over my entrance, and burrowed into me in one slow stroke. He paused then, shutting his eyes and breathing in deep, taut muscles and crushing grip betraying the tatters of his restraint. I reeled him in for a kiss, hungry and ardent; brushed my fingers to his cheeks and squeezed him close. He glided a gentle hand down my side and over my heart and began to rock his hips.

My vision was filled with him, and I drank him in: broad chest and tight abs, dark hair and kind eyes.

I know not what fortune brought us together. I just know that I love him, and he loves me. And in that moment we were one. And more than anything, I felt keenly the depth and intensity of our emotions boiling underneath the flush of our skins.

He drove into me mercilessly, dexterous fingers working me into knots. He is tenacious in love as he is in life. And for this I was grateful, as I ascended ever higher.

I was gasping out his name, and ‘yes’, and ‘I love you.’ And he was saying the same, the litany of devotion falling from his lips, pushing me toward salvation.

I reached my climax a hair before he did, a bursting supernova that left me tingling and quivering, my thoughts suspended somewhere between infinity and eternity. We laid there for a while, basking the afterglows and gathering scattered impulses, the sounds of battered breaths rising over the ticking of kitchen clock.

Presently, he scooped me up and held me tenderly to his chest. My head lulled forward and rested on the ridge of his collarbone as he carried me to the bedroom. We sank bonelessly under the covers. I could see slivers of the brightening sky through cracks in the curtains, and spared a moment to thank the fates that we lived in the brunch capitol of the world.

I sighed, contented, watched him with drooping eyes and breathed in the musk of his scent.

“I liked the song,” he remarked drowsily, eyes closed and drifting off.

“I’m glad,” I whispered, feeling a languorous smile forming, “It’s all true.” And surrendered at last to blissful dreams.