As Mataya showered, Max grabbed a glass of orange juice and wandered back out onto the porch. Sitting down, he placed his glass down and immediately picked up the diamond ring that lay on the table. As he stared into the fiery depths of the stone, his teeth worried his lower lip. He remembered with a chuckle the day he'd given it to Mataya. And, as that smile faded from his face, he also recalled the downfall, the out of control downward spiral that had led to her removing it from her finger. The day they were married, he was the happiest man on the face of the Earth.
Shaking his head, he put the ring onto the table. It had been given with the very best of intentions. How could he have known just how far off of that road paved with good intentions he'd go. Closing his eyes, he leaned back in the chair and thoughts of their honeymoon swirled in his mind.
February in Venice; Carnival time and Mataya couldn't quite believe it, still. She was married - married! - to her Max, and he'd brought her to Venice for their honeymoon. Along the canals, gondoliers plied their trade, those aquatic taxis to take you where you wanted to go, and in the streets and main squares, the carnival shows were on, filled with fantastical characters in bright costumes, all masked and mysterious. There would be a masquerade ball at the Doge's Palace and Max had gotten them tickets! Mataya was so excited, she couldn't sit still.
Max's head was still spinning at how quickly everything was happening. Suddenly he found himself married and on his honeymoon. As the gondola slid placidly over the dark water of the canal, he had his arm curled around his Taya. Max couldn't stop smiling. The city was alive with actors and shows and here they were, in the middle of it all. It was overwhelming. As Taya wriggled with excitement, Max laughed and lowered his head to kiss her softly. "Calm down, you're going to sink the boat!" he laughed and kissed her again.
Giggling, her lips moved softly against his, the hand she curled to his neck sparkling with diamonds that marked her as his, now and forever. Her mother was never going to forgive her for eloping to marry Max, but that didn't matter so much. She grinned up at her husband. "We won't sink, this is Venice!" she declared cheerfully. "City of Lovers!" Her arm gesture took in the street that ran alongside the canal, packed with brightly festooned people, many of whom were also couples.
"Then that's the city for us. Taya, my little dancing lover." he pulled her into his lap and hugged her tightly. Her excitement was infectious and he laughed out loud. "I can't wait to get to the hotel room. I'm so damn horny."
Behind them, the gondolier coughed a little awkwardly, adjusting his own weight on the back of the gondola to make up for the sudden redistribution of weight in the body of the little boat as Mataya found herself curled up on Max's lap. She squeezed him lovingly, her head turning in every direction, eager to see everything there was to see. "You keep it in your pants until we get in private, sweetheart, I'm not going to join the exhibitionists as well as the Mile-High Club on this trip," she snickered back to him.
"Aww, why not?" He grinned and joined her in the swivel head department, trying to take in as much as possible. "You've got a beautiful body and would put the rest of the exhibitionists to shame. So maybe you're right." That got another nuzzle to her neck and a soft kiss to the top of her collarbone.
Her brow rose as she smiled at him, gently but firmly drawing his head back, his lips from her skin. "You can manage a little longer without playing," she insisted playfully, tapping her fingers on his lips as the gondolier let out a yell that made her jump in surprise. From around the corner of the canal, another yell came, and the gondola paused to allow another gondolier to come around the corner without difficulty before continuing on their way.
"Aww!" he, too, jumped when the gondolier yelled and he shook his head with a laugh. As their little boat passed another, he waved to the occupants who waved back and shouted greetings in a language he didn't understand. "Well if I have to behave, I will. But I'm telling you right this second that I'm filing a formal complaint. It's our honeymoon!" He pouted playfully.
"Yeah, our honeymoon," she laughed back, calling out an answering greeting to the Italian couple in the other gondola. "Not everyone's honeymoon, ours. So keep it in your pants until it's just you and me," was her giggling reply as the gondola moved onto a wider stretch of canal, along which the entrances of several hotels backed onto the water.
"Fine, fine." he leaned back and his arms loosened around her. "Have you called your mother yet?" He smiled then, and waited for her response.
Mataya gave him a guilty look, chewing on her lip as she slipped back onto the seat beside him. "I called my sister," she admitted awkwardly. "Oh, hell, look - I'm not setting myself up to be yelled at on my honeymoon!"
"Mmmhmm." he folded his arms across his chest. "You're just ashamed to admit to her that you married the big bad wolf." He shrugged and rolled his eyes. His mother in law will be dealt with, eventually. He preferred to ignore her.
"Maybe I'm waiting to see if the big bad wolf is going to eat me up first." She flashed him an impish grin as the gondola bumped against the pier of their hotel, the gondolier calling for someone to come and help his passengers. Rising to her feet, Mataya moved to get their luggage, but was stalled by the concierge of the hotel shaking his head and taking her hand, helping her out of the little boat.
"Raaorf!" he snapped his teeth at her as the boat nudged the pier. "Hey, watch it that's my wife!" he hurried up and after her. He didn't even give the concierge or the gondolier a second glance. When he caught up to her, he grabbed her arm. "Yeah, you're going to get eaten, alright." He chuckled darkly and steered her through the lobby.
"Be polite, Max," she murmured as he took her arm, glancing back to murmur an apology to the men who grinned and waved them on. She shook her arm free of her husband's possessive grasp, smiling up at him, and quite deliberately stalled, stepping to the desk to ask if there had been any messages for them.
Max was a spoiled rotten brat and did not take well to being admonished. Much less in public. Even though she had murmured, he narrowed his eyes and glared at anybody passing by. He waited, rather impatiently, a good six feet from her as she flirted with the desk clerk. "Hmmph."
She wasn't flirting all that much - just enough to make Max boil. Mission accomplished, she paused one moment longer, leaning down to remove her shoes and hand them to her husband. "Hold those, would you, sweetheart?" Smiling lovingly, she leaned up to kiss him, barely letting her lips touch his before she suddenly whirled away and made a dash for the elevator.
His brow arched, showing his irritation as she handed him her shoes. Watching her dash off, he tossed the shoes into the fountain and strolled casually towards the bar off of the lobby. He shot a very cat like look towards the elevator as he put his hand onto the small of the back of the hostess and smiled his most charming smile.
She knew he wasn't behind her, forcing herself not to look at where he had gone. She knew he'd be going to flirt with someone else himself, but she was confident that he would come to her before letting such flirtation get anywhere. She loved him, and trusted him. Stepping into the elevator, she smiled to the other passengers, ignoring the curious half-recognition on their faces.
Max was at the bar a good hour before finally coming up to the room. He swaggered through the door with a drunken laugh. "Ok, where are you?" Slamming the door, he stripped off the already loosened tie. Lipstick of different colors shaded his cheeks. "Mataya, where are you my little pussy cat?"
She was lying on the floor; half out on the balcony, watching the boats go by on the water below. An hour was a long time to keep your new bride waiting, and coming in drunk was not the best way to make her feel wanted. She looked up as he came in, her expression serious. "I'm here, Max," she told him quietly. "And you're drunk."
"I'm not drunk." He laughed as he staggered and tripped his way towards the balcony. "Italian wine is just a bit stronger than I'm used to." he flopped into a chair and unbuttoned his shirt. "Why's you on the floor, Mataya?"
She rolled onto her side, looking up at him. "I was stretching," she shrugged with one shoulder. "It's a way to pass the time while my husband is flirting and drinking downstairs."
"Stretching." He snorted and reached for a pack of cigarettes. "You worry about your muscles more than you do me." His hands were unsteady and it took him a full two minutes to light the cigarette.
"Max, don't let's argue," she sighed, flopping onto her back. "It's our honeymoon; we shouldn't be having this conversation at all."
He exhaled and moved his hand with the cigarette to the side, holding the cigarette vertically. "Perhaps you'll think twice about giving me shit in front of other people then?" He shrugged and took another hit, inhaling deeply. He exhaled the smoke slowly. "But then, probably not. You are a stubborn one. Spoiled, too."
She frowned, not understanding what he was talking about. "Giving you shit?" she repeated. "What did I do' All I did was ask you to be polite, the guy only helped me out of the gondola." She sat up, curling her knees to her chest. "I'm stubborn, sure, but you knew that before you asked me to marry you."
"Telling me to behave. You're always telling me to behave. You knew how I was when you said yes. So why do think I'm going to change" This ring?" he held up his left hand and shrugged. "You don't have to change, why should I?"
"What, you think this ring gives you the right to manhandle me like a piece of property?" she demanded mildly, waving her own left hand at him. "I don't want you to change, I love you. But I don't want you to tell the world that I belong to you like I was a new car, or something."
He leaned forward quickly and grabbed her left hand. "That's right. You do belong to me. Get used to it." He tossed her hand to the side and sat back. "Go get me a beer. An American one. The crap they sell over here tastes like shit."
She flinched a little as he grabbed for her hand, pulling it back to her chest when he tossed her aside. Rather than argue, though - he was a lot bigger than her, after all - she rose and moved over to the mini-bar, which had been stocked to his specifications. She drew out a bottle and uncapped it, bringing it over to offer to him.
He continued to smoke his cigarette, looking out over the balcony. His eyes were glazed over, and it was more than alcohol that was intoxicating him. When she brought the beer, he took it and set it down. Reaching for her waist, he pulled her into his lap. "Thanks, baby."
She swayed into his lap, curling her arms around his neck as his arm wrapped possessively about her waist. Lips touched his cheek lovingly. "I love you, Max," she murmured into his ear, determined to break his bad mood if it killed her.
"Love you, too, Taya." he turned his head and kissed her gently. "In public, we have to be perfect. Smiles and all of that. Devoted and doting. So when you got jostled, I had to tell them to watch out for my wife. When we were in the lobby, you scolded me and flirted with the guy at the counter. That was wrong and you won't do it again, will you?"
Her palm curled against his cheek as he kissed her, brown eyes opening to gaze at him obediently. She shook her head like a good little girl for him. "No, Max, I won't," she promised, and perhaps foolishly, didn't even think she needed an answering promise from him. Her head tilted, and she kissed him in return, soft and small against his harder, larger frame.
His arms curled around her and he smiled into the kiss. "That's my girl." sighing contently, he leaned his head back a bit. His brows arched and he touched her lips. "That's not your usual shade." Neither were the multiple shades on his cheeks, either.
"You don't like it?" she asked softly, not mentioning the lipstick that graced his cheeks. "I can change it, if you don't like it." Her hand slipped from his neck to his chest, fingers teasing gently into his shirt to touch against his skin.
"Oh, no, it's beautiful. Just like you." He smiled and his eyelids drooped. "I'm the luckiest man on Earth." He held her to his chest, his tiny dancer. "I love you, so much."
Relaxing as his bad mood filtered away, Mataya curled against his chest, smiling as the words flowed over her. "You're not so lucky as I am," she argued teasingly. "I'm the envy of women all over the world, because I love you, and you married me." Her lips touched his neck softly as she squeezed her arms about him.
"You're the envy because I love you. Not just because I married you. That's something none of them will ever have. Do you understand that?" He kissed the top of her head, and then rests his cheek on the spot that was kissed. "I'll never love anybody else."
She giggled softly, nestling affectionately into his arms. "You're rambling, sweetheart," she murmured warmly, lifting her head to look at him. "I know you love me. I see it every time you look at me; I feel it in the way you hold me. I'm never going to feel this way about anyone else for the rest of my life, Max."
He smiled when she pulled her head back and gazed into her eyes. "It's you and me, M&M's forever."
Her fingers touched his cheek, drawing him into a kiss to seal that promise with warm loving affection as she shifted on his lap. Unaware of the photographers on the balcony opposite them, snapping away at every movement they made.
He'd never felt such warmth and comfort as when in the arms of his tiny dancer and kissing her sweet lips. The beer and cigarette forgotten, he moved his arms to scoop her up and then stood with her across his chest. "Let's christen the bed, what do you say, Mrs. Yako?"
Cradled against him, there wasn't any way Mataya was going to argue with that suggestion, her lips curving in a bright, happy smile as he rose to his feet. "Oh, yes, we should probably christen the bed first," she nodded in a sagely manner, before letting out a low peal of giggles.
"And then the shower, the Jacuzzi, the couch..." he chuckled as he carried her into the room. The sliding glass door was closed and the curtains drawn. He was a showman for the paparazzi, but certain things were to remain private.
"Not to mention the walls, the door, the balcony ..." She chuckled sweetly, cutting herself off with lips pressing to his with more purpose than before, the devastating sort of purpose that wipes coherent thought from the mind and engages instinct to take over.
Their lovemaking had been swift and passionate, followed by the loving touches and caresses of new found joy. Endorphins and hormones given and received, the act of becoming one, for eternity.
Max's eyes flew open when he heard Mataya getting dressed. He'd promised breakfast, and was late in the delivery. Getting up, he finished off the orange juice. Briefly he glanced back at the ring on the table. Shaking his head, he left it to sit there. He hoped a sea gull would see it and pluck it up. Anything to be rid of the symbol of the bad karma that was their short and troubled marriage.
Walking into the loft, he began to prepare their breakfast.