RtW: Epilogue 1 of 3 (M Rated Chapter)

A/N: I'm hoping that this epilogue might give a little insight into what is going on in the second one. The third one definitely will! A hint, it wasn't the Cheshire cat that was whispering to Alice.

WARNING: This is the "M" chapter. It contains some language and explicit sexual content. If you don't wish to read it, or are too young, please navigate to something else.

Once again, reviews are asked for and loved!

For all his supposed fickle behavior, his increasing and decreasing, his speeding and slowing, Time was someone who would get what he wanted.

He loved to play, although the mortal realm might call his play a torturous experience.

He also had his own rules. He knew what the game should be, how it should be played, and how it should end. The final score mattered nothing however, it was the thrill of the chase until that last fleeting moment that he enjoyed.

If the mortals had to learn the hard way, then so be it, he didn't give a damn. He would be satisfied, like so many other abstracts, he would be satisfied.

People were always trying to waste him, and in the Hatter's case, kill him. The offense at that had been so great that he had decided to make the Hatter wait; to make him languish in his loss upon the Frabjous day.

Then, she returned again. Time had no choice in the matter now. The Hatter had a few allies in the realm of abstract and odd. Madness of course, and Hope had often held to him in defiance of her brother Time. Madness' twin, Passion, was a tricky woman, but she would be satisfied if she had to strike down Time to get her way.

She had taken a liking to Alice the day the little girl had slew the Jabberwocky.

So, waiting until her fellow abstract was distracted with coronations and all other goings-on, Passion decided that it was now her game to play, and she didn't particularly care about rules.

Alice and the Hatter owed her, she felt, and she wanted to collect on a long overdue debt.

Far from the party, secluded in the sheltering embrace of the white blooming trees of Marmoreal's courtyard, Alice gave in to touch.

"You're fine, my Alice." Those words, laced with the brogue he carried whenever he was inspired, weakened her in the knees.

Her slender fingers held onto his coat, gripping the lapels. It was hard to see him in the darkness and she was fairly electric at the prospect of being at the mercy of her Hatter.

Feverish kisses slid down her neck, punctuated with a tiny nip at times when he was sure that she was not expecting them. Her shoulders were next, but these were feather-light, as though he had changed his mind in the small hollow at the base of her throat. She desperately hoped that he hadn't.

He was mumbling something to her that she couldn't understand. Something outlandish or in Outlandish, but she could not tell. In truth, she didn't care.

Emboldened, he allowed his hands to trace the gentle curves of her breasts through her dress. The breath hitched in her throat and he cupped them, squeezing the soft flesh.

"Tarrant?"

"Yes, love?"

"Can we go to my bedchamber?"

If he had been looking for the confirmation that she wanted him in every fashion, then he now had it. With his face in the crook of her neck, he inhaled the delicious scent of her skin. She smelled of sweetened tea, of citrus and jasmine flowers; it was the kind of smell that one could only find under the moon, the night skin taste that came out under pale light and heated blood.

She was his only temptress, his only love. If all the teapots in the world cracked tomorrow and she was still lying next to him in bed, he did not know if he would notice one broken kettle.

Carefully, with great attention paid to not being noticed, they walked back through the forest of white-petal trees.

They kept to the side, and snuck behind the festivities to a side door into the castle. Hand in hand, they raced up the steps, utterly alone in the palace, hearts racing as the spiced wine rushed through their veins. He held his hat on as they dashed into the room, the door shut behind them, the lock clicking into place.

His hat landed on one of the night tables where he flung it.

Alice found herself being held, kissed and caressed as he returned to his attentions of her body. Locked away from the rest of the world, she could express her pleasure in mewling moans and purrs. It spurred him onward, but he soon ran into a snag.

"What's wrong?"

"Your dress, I'm afraid Time may have gotten in my way again."

"Oh nonsense." She whispered, and she turned. With delicate motion, she pulled back her long wavy blond locks to reveal the ties.

Oh his lovely, delightful, beautiful Alice! He was lucky to be a Hatter, for he was trained to make short work of clever knots. What he had not been prepared for, was when the garment slipped away. It pooled around her feet. The image of the silken fabric trailing down her thighs would never be removed from his memory, even in his madness.

She turned, her hands almost instinctively covering herself though she had no need to. His eyes fairly drank in the sight of her. A blush began to show upon her pale skin as if painting her body in the lust she was feeling.

Tarrant wasted little time is stripping himself of his own troublesome garments, wondering if they had been devised by a madman like himself, or someone who took far too much pleasure in the loosening of ties. His skin was far whiter than hers, and for a moment, he had to wonder if she would look at him with curiosity. She merely laid a trembling hand on his bare chest, and tiled her head to gently kiss his lips. Those fingers trailed down his body, but stopped short of his manhood, unknowing how to proceed further.

Champion of Underland she was, but he wanted to be her Champion and so he took the lead that his body begged him to take. His hands felt her waist and he walked with her towards the bed. They broke apart for only a moment; she sat down upon the large comforter.

At this particular angle, she could see that part of a man that she never had before. Once, before her sister was married, Alice had overheard a conversation that her mother had with Margaret about the relations between a husband and a wife. How very small she felt at that moment, but she also wondered who could be confronted with such a situation only to lie back and think of England? Especially when such a part was not at all small enough to escape one's notice!

She was no fool. There must be some reason for the secrecy surrounding such an act that must go on between all men and women. Perhaps she would be subject to pain, but she assumed that her mother would have told her that to warn her off it and she did not think that Tarrant would ever willingly hurt her. It was more likely, judging by the flush in her skin and the thoughts that clouded her mind that this would be something to enjoy. He made short work of her undergarments and she was made naked in this most hidden rite between lovers.

The Hatter was lost the sight of her nude form. Her skin was as the marble of the palace, smooth and fine, and her scarlet lips so begged to be kissed again and again. Indeed, every curve of her form reminded him of the sculpted porcelain of a tea set. Even the soft flesh of her stomach that had once been extended in accommodation of new life was beautiful to him. He longed to see it in that state again sometime soon.

Moving backwards onto the bed, she leaned back against the pillows as he crawled up to meet her on his hands and knees. It was hard not to simply stare at the newness of his naked skin.

She was such a curious girl, and he would use that to his advantage.

His lips found her breast and he took one of her nipples into his mouth. With quick flicks of his tongue, he teased her.

"Oh!" Gasped Alice, her hands grasping at the nearest sheets as he sucked. Every fiber in her tingled and she found that other parts of her body were responding to his actions. She saw a very self satisfied grin from him and she could feel a light throbbing begin in her core.

He switched to her left breast, and this time, he heard her restrain herself from making any noise, "Nay lass," Looking up, she saw that his eyes were a desirous and dangerous shade of gold, "Don ye be dare holdin' back tonight."

She become aware that her mouth was partially open in sheer want of him when he ran a finger across her lower lip, and she quickly closed her mouth and swallowed hard.

"I want ta hear ye scream fer me."

That light throbbing she felt became a distinct pulsing in her lower body. His desire was upon her, it was sealed in her chest and their hearts were beating in time only for each other.

"Screaming?" She was breathing hard, "Will I be screaming?"

Taking her lips harshly, his silver tongue slipped into her mouth while his fingers worked their way down her body. He sweetened his tongue on hers and she adored it.

Then, she felt his fingers touch an area of body that was sensitive beyond anything she had ever known and her eyes snapped open.

"If I do my job right, ye will scream fer me."

Alice found herself damning her strict society up-bringing that she felt partially embarrassed to be so exposed to him. Never mind his touching of her most intimate area. For years she had been attempting to ignore the rules that had been preached to her constantly and now she was just focused on them at the most inappropriate time. How could she possibly stop thinking –

He slid a single finger into her. The pulsating feeling brought the blood to her temples and her train of thought was thrown to the wind.

"Oh god!"

Tarrant chuckled and moved his hand against her. She could hardly contain herself and without hesitation, she gave into her emotions. Underland was not a place for logic, and neither was the bedroom. Certainly not at this moment anyway.

Toes curled, hand's clenched, and the strangled gasps of the young woman filled the room.

He focused on her, solely upon her. He did not have the pleasure of splitting his attention between her pleasure and his, lest the madness take him away. The Hatter was deathly afraid that it would come for him at any time and he would hurt her. For now, her essence consumed him and he kept his mad mind on that.

For Alice, as quickly as it began, he withdrew and her body relaxed. She was disappointed and he heard her obviously frustrated moan.

"Why did you stop?"

His untamed eyebrows rose as he looked at her, and she understood that while what he had been doing to her was exquisite, it was not the act itself. Moving from his place beside her, he gently moved her legs, his earlier delicious persuasion having already opened her body to him. To be positioned in this fashion, she gently chewed upon her lower lip as erotic sensations poured over her.

As he lay between her legs, any fear that she felt was entirely gone in her wanting. He propped himself up on his elbows and gave her another kiss, "Are you ready?"

"Yes, I think."

"It may hurt a bit, lass."

She merely nodded, and held his face in her hands. Pressing his forehead to hers, he gently slid into her. Alice did not feel a distinct pain, but instead felt her body shift and adjust to accommodate his size. She sharply inhaled as he filled her completely, stretched her smallness, and penetrated to the very core of that heavy pulsing.

For his part, he could barely breathe. He was inside Alice, his Alice. After all these years of waiting for her to return to him, here she was, lying underneath him in a most wanton way. His manhood was encased in her, she was wet and slick and so tight.

"Tarrant." It was a quiet whisper.

"I'm fine." He was no louder in his reply and he finally opened his eyes.

They just stared at one another for what seemed like the longest time. His weight pressing down on her and her breathing was hot on his cheeks. She felt trapped beneath him, a prisoner welcoming her chains.

Suddenly, he remembered to move.

Her large hazel eyes closed with the first thrust of his hips, the pleasure was so intense. She knew now why no one talked about this in public; it was far too intimate to share with others. He thrust again, slowly, and for what seemed like forever, he languidly pulled away from her before re-sheathing himself in her. Alice now too also understood the meaning of torture.

"Are you alright?" His voice was strained.

"Yes!" The slight hint of anxiety in her voice caught his attention. Desperately trying to hold back the madness, he was afraid to let himself be lost in the moment.

Alice pulled his head down for a passionate kiss, trying to let him know that she wanted him to take full advantage.

The next time, he bucked his hips and buried himself inside her, every inch, to the very hilt of his manhood.

She cried out his name and it echoed around the room. That was all the incentive he needed, his control was lost.

The lovers were captured in their embrace, sensual, binding. In their minds, the lines between the bodies began to blur.

He thrust faster and faster, and she moaned at every one. Pleasure was coming at such an intensity that she could do nothing more than cry out to release some of the pressure. Deep inside her, another pressure was building, but she did not know what to expect.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper, as far as he could go inside her. Spurred on by her actions, his movements were coming so fast that she could not even count them anymore.

Alice's delicate skin would be bruised the next day, that, he was sure of. He didn't give a damn. She meanwhile, was unashamed now that she wanted this so badly, she wanted him inside her now, always; they completed one another. His frantic thrusts against her tight, small body felt so amazingly good to her virgin form.

Hatter was trying to maintain his consciousness as it was now. Trying not to lose himself at the worst possible time, but his body was begging for release.

Both of them were beginning to feel that delightful throbbing building in them. He thrust harder, wanting to bring himself to climax. Alice suddenly found her body acting in a way that she did not tell it to. Her hips bucked against his, trying to match him thrust for thrust.

God, how she wanted it. She was so close. So close!

"Almost!" Her whisper was high pitched and music to his ears. Her moans, cries, they became whimpers and she begged him to force her body to submit.

Without warning, Alice screamed his name, her nails dug into his back. Whatever this was, this explosion in her body, it had come with a force she could never have expected.

Her muscles tightened around him and Tarrant felt himself pour into her, her body drawing all from him. He clung to the same bed sheets that she had grabbed earlier.

She felt a warmth come into her body and she held him to her. Tarrant waited for the madness to come and take him from her arms but it did not. So long as he was held within her, he would be able stay with his beloved.

The delicious pain of her nails coupled with his own pleasure forced him to collapse on top of her. A light sheen of perspiration was on their skins, which now seemed to be able to sense and feel every twitch and drop of sweat that fell.

Heavy panting breathes filled the air.

"Alice?"

"Tarrant? That was wonderful."

"It was." Lifting his head, he kissed her quite deeply and she ran her fingers through his orange hair.

"Had you ever done that before?"

"No," He laughed, "I was waiting fer you, lass."

She closed her eyes and her fingers trailed lightly on his cheek, "Would you find me terribly selfish if I said I wanted to do that again?"

"Right now?"

Her lovely eyes were half-lidded, still filled with lust, "Yes."

Wet hair clung to her sweat beaded neck; she was so incredibly beautiful to him. Her skin still tasted of jasmine.

Who was he to refuse her?