Simply Ichabbie: Unconditional (Ichabbie Fanfic)
I was reading Ichabbie fanfic and thinking about how they love each other. There love kind of reminds me of the love God has for me. It’s unconditional, regardless of all the bad things I may do or have done. I think Ichabbie loves each other like that. They look past the other’s mistakes and flaws. It’s quite sweet and big and inspiring to be able to love someone that way. I hope this isn’t an odd comparison, but that’s what I thought of and now here’s a blurb. I hope you find it beautiful and touching as much as I do. It’s quite special to me. I hope it isn’t redundant though. :) Also, I will work on that pregnancy fic and update Married at First Sight. I have not forgotten about these, especially that latter. Lol Happy reading. I hope this makes your morning. :)
“What are your mistakes?” Crane said.
He shifted Abbie’s curls over her right shoulder. He stamped a kiss on the back of her neck.
She peeked over her empty shoulder. “What?”
His knees became his feet, with his hands on her waist. Her bedside lamp dimmed the room.
“If you wouldn’t mind, could you please give voice to your faults, flaws, and insecurities? I would like to show you something.”
Abbie’s eyebrows dipped. Out of all the times they’ve had sex, he never asked her to do this. This wasn’t even the right time to talk about her errors.
“Um, okay.” She faced forward, pocketed a deep breath. “I betrayed my sister.”
He imprinted a sluggish kiss down her back.
She sighed. “What are we doing, Crane?”
She sighed again. “I still haven’t forgiven my dad for leaving.”
One more kiss.
“I resented mama a long time for going crazy and leaving me and Jenny.”
A couple more.
He left a peck in the middle of her back. She blinked a few times before resuming. It was hard admitting her imperfections aloud. She didn’t want to think of herself as a bad person, but everyone had shortcomings. Why wasn’t Crane saying anything about them? He just kissed her. What was the point of this?
“I can be really impatient.”
A gentle kiss.
“Sometimes, I get angry at God for my life as a Witness. I can’t enjoy life as much as I want to.”
The remaining unhurried kisses finally landed on her lower back. He stood. She liked what he was doing, though she still didn’t quite understand it. Whenever she admitted a wrong doing, his kisses comforted her. He didn’t blame or judge her. He kissed her, like it was okay for her to be a mess. She wanted to tell him more, but decided to wait.
“It’s your turn.” She tugged him to the bed, where they both sat naked. She took one of his hands, kissed his palm. He made her feel comfortable speaking about some of her slipups. Hopefully, she could return the favor.
“I can be selfish and self-centered.”
She kissed his thumb.
“I like to be a know it all.”
His index finger came next.
“My naivety can get the best of me.”
Her lips tasted his middle finger.
“I’m quite passive aggressive at times.”
She left one on his ring finger.
“I still haven’t forgiven my own father for his disownment of me.”
His pinky this time.
“Sometimes, I am so swept up in the past that I am mindless of the beauty that’s right in front of me.”
Her lips touched his other thumb. He smiled at her, nuzzled her forehead with his nose. She kissed his neck.
“Is there more you wanted to show me?” Abbie said.
He nodded, stood again. “Could you lie on the bed, please?”
She scooted to the middle of the bed, leaned back to where the pillows waited for her. Her pointed knees and parted thighs welcomed Crane to shell himself between them. He did and inscribed himself within her. She gasped because he was strong, surer than he’s ever been inside her. One of his hands gripped the headboard while the other dug into the mattress beside her head. She encased her legs round his waist, played with his beard. His eyes clung to hers. She moaned when he budged further into her. Her lips tickled his. He stuck his forehead to hers as her hands coiled through his hair.
“I still can’t forgive you for leaving like you did,” she said.
He nudged once; she moaned.
“In different ways, I was jealous of Zoe, Betsy, and even Katrina.”
He prodded. Her groan spilled against his check.
“I don’t trust many people.”
Another prod. She bit her lip, shut her eyes.
“I’m can shut others out.”
He kissed her forehead and delved into her again. A whine leaked from her. “Can I see those pretty brown eyes?”
“No.” She opened them slightly, but studied his chest hair.
“Why not, my heart?”
“Too embarrassed. Ashamed.”
“I shall make you the opposite. You never have to feel that way with me. I covet your entire soul, Grace Abigail Mills.”
The breath she was supposed to release stung in her belly. Her eyes flicked toward his. He smiled as he gently pushed into her again. He didn’t halt this time though. Each time he dipped into her, she wanted to cry. He never made love to her like this. Crane was always gentle with her and a little shy at times, but this was different. How he loved her emotionally, spiritually, and physically was a name she couldn’t quite place yet.
Normally he made some kind of noise. Nothing came from him now. It was all kisses from his lips and words she didn’t attend to. She was so soaked in the feel of him that she didn’t consider what he said until now.
“Your uncondition.” He kissed her neck. “I am your unconditional love, Abbie.”
It hit her, and she concealed her face in his shoulder, so he wouldn’t see her really cry. Her orgasm came, but she couldn’t focus on it. Crane still plunged gently into her. It was endless. His breath was heavy and he tried to suppress a small whimper when he came, yet he did not stop. Her hands rested on his lower back.
“Thank you, Ichabod.”
He stopped then, panted, gazed at her. “If I weren’t but a wee man, I’d empty every bit of love into you. It would never cease.”
What could she say to that? She locked her legs around him even more as she shielded her face from him. More tears came as she realized she’d never experience a love like this again. She never wanted it to end.
After they held, kissed, and smiled at each other for a few minutes to give Crane a resting period, Abbie flipped him over. She wanted him to receive the same gift he’d given her. His hands gripped her waist. Her hands were on his chest.
“I was angry at you for sacrificing yourself.”
She pushed against him. A groan from him.
“I, too, was jealous of Mr. Reynolds, Mr. Riggs, Mr. Brooks, Mr. Morales, and Mr. Hawley.”
She kissed his beard, pressed herself into him. A whimper escaped.
“I think I am not enough for you.”
She shook her head; bent to peck his lips, rammed into him; he emitted a small gasp.
“Sometimes, I think I am too weak and hate myself for it.”
“You are not any of these things. I see you who you really are, Ichabod.”
The first time she saw him cry was when he killed Katrina. This was the second. She thrust herself into him the same way he did her. Abbie wanted him to know the exact same thing. She wanted to give it all back. With every slow stroke against him, she made sure he could sense her love for him. Her second orgasm came, which she ignored to keep going for him. Her love was endless, too. She didn’t speak to him like he did her, but she kissed him and bulged against him until he climaxed. He didn’t hide his tears from her.
“I see you through and through.”
“Thank you, Abbie.”
She laid on his chest, counted the number of times he throbbed in her.