And Many Happy Tomorrows, Epilogue (Fic)

[paleogymnast]

Epilogue:

Later that Night:

The reception seemed to go by in a blur. Chris had heard from David and Jensen that receptions were really more for the guests’ enjoyment than the bride’s and groom’s-or grooms’ as the case might be-but Chris hadn’t really understood, at the time. Now, it was almost ten pm on the night of his wedding, and he and Mike were half collapsed in chairs at one of the now-empty guest tables while their rather drunken guests danced the night away. Somehow the entire reception had gone by and he barely remembered what had happened. He got it.

The bed and breakfast’s ballroom was lovely. There were flowers everywhere-including some really pretty blue violets that he was amazed to see out of season (Donna’s florist was awe-inspiring) and swaths of turquoise tulle tied with pewter silk bows.

There was food, he remembered that: a nice selection of carnivorous and vegetarian options all prepared kosher and served buffet style-but with serving attendants to make sure no one swapped serving utensils or did anything to contaminate the food for any of their vegetarian or kosher guests. He and Mike had wanted everyone to enjoy themselves, not get some pre-ordained portion or combination, and the solution had worked pretty well. Chris distinctly remembered there had been Challah bread (Mike’s mom had insisted) and a surprisingly good approximation of barbequed Texas beef brisket, but beyond that, he couldn’t remember what was on the menu, let alone what he had eaten.

Then there were speeches. David, Jensen, Allie, and Tom had all given orations ranging from Allie’s embarrassing anecdotes about Mike’s life before Chris (which had had Chris holding on to Mike tight out of half-fear his husband might get the idea to slip back into those ways), to Dave’s almost manic congratulatory speech (and between the filming, the new baby, and the bachelor party, Chris figured they were lucky it was just manic and not positively incoherent… he was pretty sure someone needed to make sure Dave slept for a week after this), to Tom’s eloquent extolling of the many virtues of marriage and how perfect Chris was for Mike, and finally Jensen’s expectedly emotional and heartfelt (but more touching than Chris had prepared himself for) story about the journey Chris had taken in his life and how important he had been to Jensen and how thrilled Jensen was that he now knew Mike was there to watch out for Chris. After that, Chris remembered a lot of tears and toasting and champagne, and several kisses sloppily exchanged with Mike, but not much else.

There had been cake, well two cakes actually: one delicious chocolate with raspberry filling and chocolate cream cheese frosting; the other orange with lemon crème filling covered in seamless blue-tinted fondant and topped with a pair of adorable grooms in black tuxes that looked remarkably like Chris and Mike.  Both had been ordered specially from the bed and breakfast’s recommended bakery. Chris remembered feeding bites of both cakes carefully to Mike-no frosting mashing allowed-and sucking frosting off of Mike’s fingers and getting lost in his eyes… but then there had been cameras flashing and guests to mingle with and even a modified version of the garter/bouquet toss (Dave had provided lacy bridal garters for each of them to toss… and Allie and Danneel had caught Mike’s and his respective tosses, much to everyone’s glee). Chris had noticed them sharing meaningful glances for a while afterwards and at some point they must have slipped off, because surveying the room now, he didn’t see them anywhere.

All too soon it had been time for the first dance… which had been Jason and Jensen singing a duet of Crazy Love (with the pronouns switched so it made sense for Mike and Chris) with Steve on guitar. Chris was pretty sure he’d broken into tears then, and spent the second half of the song with his head tucked into the curve of Mike’s neck, nestled and hidden away so no one could see just how moist his eyes were, but he’d heard Mike sniffling too, so he didn’t feel so embarrassed. Besides, it was his wedding if he wasn’t entitled to be a little overly emotional now, then something was seriously wrong with the world.

Their dance had been followed by more songs played by their friends, but now Chris couldn’t remember what they’d been. He remembered dancing with Donna at one point, and Mike dancing with his mom, and there had been lots more mingling with guests-  He was pretty sure he’d danced with Beth at one point, too. But everything else was lost in a haze of emotion and excitement and exhaustion.

Now the DJ was playing, and the bar had been open for hours, and if he wasn’t mistaken, that was Jen’s sister Mackenzie dancing with Aldis… very, very interesting. He glanced over at his husband-and boy was that going to take some getting used to-and noticed Mike was positively exhausted. His eyes were half-lidded, and he was slouched down in his chair, ascot askew, mesmerized by his mostly empty glass of scotch.

Chris looked back down at his half-shot of tequila-and wasn’t it saying something that he was apparently too tired to finish a shot in one go?-trying to remember if he was supposed to be doing something, when a small shadow came over the table. He tried to pull himself up in the cushioned, high backed chair and wake up enough to properly greet the approaching guest.

“Relax, sweetie, it’s just me,” Donna said softly, slipping silently into a chair across the table from Chris.

“Hey,” Chris managed, looking up to meet her smile, “thanks so much for everything, Momma Ackles, especially the flowers; they’re beautiful. Best wedding present ever.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Mike managed, jerking to wakefulness. “We probably would have gone without if you hadn’t arranged for them,” he added honestly.

“Oh shush, it’s the least I could do,” Donna began waving her hand in dismissal, her smile growing even larger, a devious glint appearing in her eye, “and it’s not your only gift! Alan and I have slipped you a little something in our card,” she said, gesturing at the long table at the far end of the room, its pewter table cloth barely visible underneath the mounds of gifts.

“Geez, we really should have insisted people donate to charity,” Mike said, sounding shell shocked at the sheer volume of their gifts.

“Yeah,” Chris agreed, amazed. Seriously, after the ‘shower’ of sorts they’d thrown for him on set, he really hadn’t been expecting to receive so many more presents.

Donna chuckled, and reached her hand out, patting Mike’s. “They’re your friends, and they’re going to get you things even if you tell them not to, so just be gracious and understand it makes them feel good, like they’re sharing in your joy.”

“That’s very profound,” Mike observed with a yawn, still sounding sleepy. Chris watched him struggling to keep his head upright.

“Ahh, and that’s why I brought this,” Donna sighed, sliding something towards him and Mike. Two somethings. Coffee, his brain supplied. He hadn’t noticed her carrying it when she’d sat down; damn, he must be really tired. “It’s late. Everyone’s had plenty to drink, and you’ve spent time with ‘em all,” Donna continued. She leaned in close, prompting Mike and Chris to lean towards her. “Drink up, and slip out.”

Chris exchanged a confused glance with Mike and turned back to Donna. “Huh?”

She tisked, rolling her eyes. “Damn, one cup might not be enough,” she muttered half to herself. Shaking her head, she tried again, “Drink the coffee, then slip out of here. You’ve got the honeymoon suite waiting for you upstairs, and you’re going to see everyone at brunch tomorrow.” Her eyes flitted over to another table where Dave appeared to be sleeping on his crossed arMs. “Even poor David’s flight doesn’t leave until the late afternoon, so you’ll get to see him too,” she clucked, clearly disapproving of how tired Dave was and turned back to catch Chris’s eye, “and don’t you worry, I’m making sure he gets sleep tonight. He’s my next stop.”

Chris chuckled. “Thanks,” he said sincerely. At least he could feel a little less guilty for his contribution to Dave’s current state of exhaustion.

“Now go, get,” Donna scolded making shooing motions on them. “Just drink that coffee and get out of here, no one’s going to notice, and you have more important things to be doing right now,” she added teasingly, making Mike blush (Chris could feel his own ears turning red).

“Ok,” Chris agreed, reaching for his warm, but not too hot, coffee, and chugging it down as quickly as he could.

“Thank you, Donna,” Mike added, before downing his coffee in a gulp.

Donna slipped from the table with a wink and headed towards Dave’s slumped, exhausted form.

“Well,” Mike said to Chris, standing and extending his hand-the one with the wedding ring on it-to Chris, “what do you say, shall we go find out what married sex feels like?”

Chris blushed harder, but he knew no one could hear Mike over the pounding of the music. “Sounds great to me,” he answered as he stood and took his husband’s hand and let his husband lead him from the ballroom.

~~~

Chris had often wondered if married sex would be any different from single sex or hell, engaged sex. Now he was sure it was different-better-and much in the way that their first time after getting engaged had been, only with more of a connection, if that was possible.

The honeymoon suite was everything it was cracked up to be-a complex of luxurious rooms with good soundproofing (or so their hosts insisted) including an en suite bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub big enough for two; a plush sitting room with creamy, white overstuffed couches, a chaise lounge, and a broad, low coffee table perfect for setting a room service feast on; and finally there was the bedroom with a dark wood armoire and side tables coordinated with an ornate, four-poster, king sized bed covered in mountains of fluffy, white pillows and duvet, 1000 thread-count sheets, and a headboard perfect for grabbing onto. There was even a bottle of Dom Pérignon on ice in an elegant silver bucket on one of the side tables. It was accompanied by an etched set of champagne flutes bearing their first names, the date, and an etching of a pair of interlocked wedding rings-a gift from their hosts according to the ecru-colored card that accompanied it.

Mike had recovered from his apparent exhaustion almost the moment they entered the suite, whether because the coffee Donna had insisted he drink had kicked in or because the prospect of finally getting to the wedding night was enough to give him a second wind, Chris wasn’t sure, but almost the second their key had turned in the lock (the bed and breakfast still used real keys instead of key cards, an intimate touch that Chris appreciated), Mike was springing upright and bouncing in his shoes.

“Damn, baby, it’s like someone flipped a switch,” Chris moaned as Mike spun him against the wall just inside the door, Mike’s roaming hands cradling Chris’s head and body and ensuring he was gently pressed against the wall.

Mike snickered, giddily, “You know you turn me on,” he chuckled, pressing his lips tenderly against Chris’s jaw, trailing gentle caresses down his neck and shoulder.

Chris groaned, Ok, I totally walked into that. He gasped, melting under Mike’s touch. They were both fully clothed, and Mike was being so delicate with the feather-light touches and brushes of his lips and hands. It was maddeningly erotic, making Chris instantly hard and breathless, but at the same time it was so unlike Mike-not that Mike was usually rough (unless Chris wanted him to be), but this was much more patient than either of them usually was. “I’m not broken anymore, you know,” Chris teased, as Mike tucked his head under Chris’s chin and pressed his lips to his Adam’s apple, Mike’s tongue darting out and tasting the saltiness of Chris’s skin.

“I know,” Mike said, pulling back. He pressed a chaste kiss to Chris’s lips, and stroked his right hand over the near invisible scar on Chris’s hairline, his other hand possessively cupping Chris’s ass.

Chris looked up to meet his husband’s eyes. “Then wha-” he started to ask, but his eyes met Mike’s, found them glistening with emotion, Mike’s expression profound and filled with bottomless, endless love. “Oh,” Chris gasped, breath catching in his throat. Just like that, and he understood. He could feel Mike’s heartbeat thumping against his chest where it was pressed to his own, could feel his pulse hammering through Mike’s wrist as it lay against Chris’s temple, could feel the line of Mike’s erection pressing into his hip, and in Mike’s eyes he could see everything he-they-meant. Lover. Partner. Friend. Supporter. Rescuer. Companion. Caretaker. Confidant. Soul mate. Husband.

Almost five years together and they had finally taken that final step, proclaiming their union to everyone, standing up in spite of those who would rather see them apart-second-class-even dead-and committing themselves to each other. Now they were more than the sum of their parts, a separate, recognized family together. “Wow,” Chris whispered, at last, losing himself in his husband’s eyes as his knees buckled. Mike’s hand tightened behind him and held him steady.

“Yeah, wow,” Mike echoed. “I just… this is special, our first time as a married couple, and I…” He blushed, ears turning red, but eyes not shying away from Chris’s. “I just want to take time to enjoy you-us.” His hand traced its path down the side of Chris’s face, sliding down his chest to rest his hand over his pec.

Chris moaned, somewhere between a whimper and a keen, overcome with sensation, as he turned his head up to catch Mike’s lips.

Mike met him half way, soft lips parting to let in Chris’s searching tongue then slowly, deftly tangling his own tongue with it, slipping out to taste Chris’s mouth, breath hot and moist and labored, filled with emotion, overwhelmed with need. But all the while with a surety, a restraint that had never been there before.

Chris understood. There were no guarantees in life. One of them could die tomorrow, or they could live to see 100, and there was just no way to know. But now, the little piece of paper that said they were spouses, husband and husband, joined in the eyes of the law (of at least some states and several foreign countries), gave them that extra feeling of security that for as long as they could they’d both be there for each other-and no one could take that away.

Mike pulled back from the kiss, letting his lips brush gently over Chris’s nose, cheek, tracing a path to his ear. “What do you say we take this to the bedroom?” His question was quiet, content, eager, but not pushy.

“Yeah,” Chris breathed, his voice wobbly to his ears.

Mike pulled him to his feet, steadying Chris, before leading him by the hand, past the plush furniture, around the coffee table, to the doorway that connected the sitting room to the bedroom. Mike paused, turning back towards Chris and pulling him into his arMs.

“What?” Chris asked, feeling his cheeks tugging up in a smile; he had an idea of what Mike was thinking, but he wasn’t going to make it easy on him. No, if Mike wanted this, he was going to have to ask.

“Can I… would you…” Mike started. He gave Chris a little peck on the lips. “Can I carry you across the threshold?” he asked, calmly, but hesitantly. “It’s not because you’re shorter or because I’m usually the top it’s just… ever since you got hurt, I’ve been looking forward to this, kind of my moment to baby you and let you-let me-know, feel, you’re really ok, and you’re all mine. So, can I?”

Chris was floored by Mike’s reasoning-he was going to say ‘yes’ eventually anyway, but now there was no way he was putting up a fight. He saw the emotion in the depths of Mike’s expressive brown eyes and nodded. “Yes, you can,” he managed, voice cracking a little.

Mike carefully scooped Chris up, slipping one big, strong hand under Chris’s knees, and rolling him up against Mike’s chest. Two steps and they were through the doorway, and Mike was gracefully swinging Chris back down to his feet.

And damn, if that didn’t feel like they’d just crossed into a new chapter in their lives. Together they shed jackets and ascots, Mike almost tripping when he tried to kick off his shoes and socks without untying them. Then they were pulled together again, Chris undoing Mike’s cufflinks while Mike unbuttoned his shirt. Their lips met in another kiss, hungrier than the last, but still accompanied by the same sense of peace and calm.

“Look, champagne, wow… it’s Dom Pérignon, and there’s a card,” Mike exclaimed, stepping towards the bedside table and passing the card to Chris who had finally worked his own cufflinks free.

Chris had been unbuckling his belt, so he freed a hand to take the card from Mike. “Wow, they said the flutes are a wedding gift,” Chris said, voice full of surprise. He looked up and met Mike’s eyes, full of wonderment and love. “You wanna, maybe, pour us some?” Chris asked, sashaying up to Mike as he let his pants fall to his ankles and stepped out of them.

“Shit,” Mike said, jaw dropping, as Chris stood before him wearing nothing but the silk boxers and tight-fitting, v-necked undershirt he’d worn underneath is tux with his open tuxedo shirt half slipped off of his shoulders. “You’re so sexy,” he kissed Chris’s lips, “and handsome,” he kissed his neck, “and beautiful,” he kissed Chris’s shoulder where the tanned skin peeked out from underneath the edge of the tux shirt. Mike reached up with both hands and brushed Chris’s shirt back, slipping the shirt free of Chris’s shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. He slid his arms more tightly around Chris, one dropping to the small of his back, the other tangling in his hair and massaging his neck. “And you’re my husband,” Mike whispered wondrously as he pulled Chris tight to his body.

“And you’re mine,” Chris echoed, tossing the card in the direction of the side table and slipping his fingers into Mike’s waistband, easing Mike’s-his husband’s-pants and boxers over his hips and letting them drop to the floor in a silky puddle.

“You still want that Champagne?” Mike asked, gasping as Chris’s fingers stroked against the cleft of his ass, caressing the milky-smooth skin.

“Yeah,” Chris said, sliding his hands around to slip between their bodies, brushing Mike’s cock as he moved, “but why don’t we have a toast naked, in bed?”

“Ok,” Mike murmured, kissing him again, tongue seeking entrance, pulling Chris to him and breathing in deep as if he could draw Chris into him so Chris could possess him fully.

They broke apart at last so Chris could unbutton Mike’s shirt while Mike eased Chris’s boxers off. Both shed their undershirts and turned to the Champagne. Mike insisted on opening the bottle, and nearly put a dent in the wall when the cork came free with an explosive pop.

Playfully chastising his husband for the near mishap, Chris managed to pour two full flutes of the expensive bubbly without spilling any on themselves, the dark cherry hardwood floor, or the bed linens.

Giggling, Mike took one of the glasses from Chris and entwined their hands, smiling down on his husband with a twinkle in his eye. “To us, together, for as long as we can pull this off. You and me, married. I love you, Christian,” he said, voice choking up with emotion as he spoke Chris’s name.

“You and me, together married,” Chris echoed. “I love you, too, Michael. Thanks for convincing me…” Chris felt the tears burn behind his eyes and gently clinked his glass to Mike’s, downing the flute in one long gulp.

“Holy crap, that’s the good stuff, you’re not supposed to drown in it!” Mike sputtered, Dom Pérignon dribbling down his chin.

“Shut up,” Chris retorted, blushing. “I’m just nervous.”

“Whatever are you nervous for, sweetie?” Mike asked, finishing his own glass, collecting Chris’ and setting both back on the table, but far enough from the bed so they wouldn’t be likely to knock the glasses off.

“I want… this is special, and I…” Chris started.

“Shhh,” Mike said, wrapping his arms back around Chris and pulling them together, so their erections brushed together, “it’s just me, and neither of us is a virgin.”

“But we’ve never done this, married,” Chris murmured, sucking a line along Mike’s neck and shoulder, bending his knees just enough so he could get his mouth around Mike’s right nipple, nibbling on it until Mike let out a pleasured gasp.

Mike fumbled behind them reaching for something in the drawer of the bedside table. “Well, I’m really looking forward to making love to my husband for the first time, and I’m gonna take really good care of him,” he murmured, producing a condom and a bottle of lube from the drawer.

Chris’s dick twitched at the mention of ‘husband.’ “Sounds good,” he panted.

“Look.” Mike drew his attention to the bottle, “I got the warming kind, so no cold fingers.”

Chris nodded wordlessly, lost in how thoughtful Mike had been. It was just how Mike was, thoughtful and caring, and even after almost five years together, it still came as a pleasant surprise to Chris and made him feel so cherished, it took his breath away.

Mike’s eyes grew wide, asking for permission, which Chris gave with a silent nod. Without breaking eye contact, Mike reached over and folded back the covers, snagging a pillow from the stack at the head of the bed as part of the processes. Stroking his hands up and down Chris’s sides, hesitating over his newly healed ribs, he pulled Chris close before reaching down and snagging Chris under his knees, and lifting him up onto the bed.

Chris lifted his hips up so Mike could settle the pillow underneath, and laid back into the pillows, reaching above his head to grip the headboard, finding two ideally placed, heart-shaped cutouts perfect for holding onto.

He looked down at Mike’s love and lust-filled eyes and smiled, sinking into the sensation as Mike moved down his body, wet lips and tongue, tracing out his love. Moist heat encircled Chris’s cock as his husband licked across the head then swallowed it down. He couldn’t suppress a moan when Mike swallowed and hummed, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head up and down. Chris reflexively tried to thrust up, but Mike’s hands held him steady, fingertips warm against his skin where they pressed into his hips firmly, but not hard enough to bruise.

Chris was blindingly hard, sure he couldn’t hold out for long, but all too soon, Mike’s mouth was gone. Mike pulled off grinning, and lowered his head, this time gently sucking on Chris’s balls.

Chris closed his eyes, panting, gasping as Mike’s tongue worked in figure eights around his sac. Then the moist heat focused to a single point as Mike extended his tongue and traced along Chris’s perineum until finally the tip was probing at Chris’s pucker, jabbing and then swirling circles along the taught flesh. Chris could feel himself keening, but he was too lost in the feeling of being loved, opened, penetrated to know what he said.

Mike teased and teased until finally the point of his tongue slipped inside, his lips closing over Chris’s rim, sucking on the muscle until it relaxed and Chris was writhing in pleasure. Chris’s attention was completely focused on his entrance, the feel of Mike slipping first one, then two fingers inside on either side of his tongue, slipping them out again, only to come back with his fingers coated in the almost tingly warmth of the self-heating lube. Chris whined when Mike finally pulled back with his tongue, but his displeasure was brief because Mike returned with three fingers, stroking in and up, brushing over Chris’s prostate again and again, as his mouth nibbled into the tender skin just below Chris’s hip. With his free hand, Mike reached up and squeezed Chris’s nipple, pinching and twisting until the nub hardened and perked up, a little blossoming flower of pleasure-pain on Chris’s chest that split his attention and made him cry out. “Baby,” he finally panted, “I’m not gonna last much longer if you do that.”

Without a word, Mike slipped his fingers free, leaving Chris’s ass gaping and clenching at the loss. Chris’s eyes snapped open as he wriggled in frustration, his left hand releasing the headboard to reach down and pat the top of his husband’s head. His husband, he shivered just thinking about it.

Mike looked up, condom wrapper in his teeth. He lifted Chris’s legs kissing the inside of each thigh before resting them on his shoulders. Mike tore open the condom and reached down. Chris could see Mike’s erection, long and broad and proud, purple with arousal, and curving up towards his belly. Slowly, sensually, Mike rolled on the condom. “You ready?” he asked as he lined up.

Chris nodded, “Yeah, yeah…. Love you.”

“Love you,” Mike echoed as he thrust inside.

Chris could feel himself parting, stretching, opening up to let his husband inside. It burned, but only for a moment, as Mike bottomed out and stilled, allowing Chris to adjust. Chris let go of the headboard, his arms dropping limply to the bed and then reaching up to embrace Mike.

Mike’s hands slid up his sides, stroking over his arms, shoulders brushing back Chris’s hair which had long ago fallen loose. He leaned forward and met Chris’s lips, hands sliding forward to stroke over Chris’s pecks. They stayed that way, reverently kissing with Mike holding still inside, just letting Chris feel him, for minutes.

At last Chris pulled back, hands in Mike’s hair, staring deeply into his eyes, he rolled his hips up, forcing Mike even deeper, causing the head of his cock to rub against Chris’s prostate. Chris gasped. “Come on, baby, wanna feel you move, wanna come.”

Chris squeezed his ass tight around Mike’s dick, making Mike’s eyes roll up in his head. “Damn baby, don’t have to ask,” Mike said.

Mike leaned down against Chris’s body, burying his head in the crook of Chris’s neck as he began to thrust, the slip-slide of his cock tugging against Chris’s insides, sparking the nerves to awareness, sending shivers of sensation deep into Chris’s belly, spiraling out along his spine, warm tingles of pleasure crashing over him with every jab to his sweet spot.

Slowly, gradually, Mike picked up the pace, and Chris found himself rocking his hips up to each thrust, taking Mike deeper. Opening, pulling Mike inside. Faster and faster they rocked. Chris felt so full, so loved, possessed, completed, his body and Mike’s pressed together, joined, his hole stretched obscenely around his husband’s cock. He could feel himself getting close, when Mike gave the little whimper that signaled he was close to completion.

Chris slid his hand down between their bodies and found Mike’s there. Together they wrapped their palms around Chris’s straining, erection, precome dribbling freely from the slit. One stroke, two, and Chris’s toes were curling, heels digging into Mike’s back, as Mike thrust hard inside him. Together they came, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through their bodies, Chris’s come splashing between their chests, over their joined hands while Mike filled the condom inside him.

Mike collapsed against Chris and they lay there, panting, until Mike’s softening cock finally slipped from Chris’s body. Chris keenly felt the loss, not wanting to give up the closeness, but as Mike rolled to the side, sliding his arms around Chris, hugging him close, their heaving, muscular, sweaty chests pressed together, Chris realized the feeling of closeness didn’t leave. Instead he felt the connection between them grow, stretching between them and binding them, washing over him like a warm glow.

Maybe it was just a little piece of paper, but as he entwined his fingers with Mike’s feeling the cool metal from their wedding rings brush together, reflecting on the vows he’d spoken only hours before, it felt like so much more. They were married now, together for better or for worse, and as he started to doze, head pillowed on Mike’s shoulder, their slow, rhythmic breathing sliding into sync, suddenly that little piece of paper made all the difference in the world. Marriage was so worth it!

Master Post | Chapter 8 | Author's Notes