Lila

He was being careful with her, and she didn't want him to be. She wanted all of him, not half his mind, or half his intention. But he was worried about keeping the blanket around her shoulders, worried about hurting her rib. His mind was elsewhere and she could tell.

​​

When he dropped his head back against the wall she knew he was struggling, and she brought him back—showed him, the only way she could, that she wanted him, needed him, right there, with her.

She could feel his arousal, but he still focused on kissing and touching her. She feared he'd keep himself away, apart. So she reached between them and brought him up, palming him, stroking him as they kissed.

Dane sucked in, and his kiss intensified, his hands fisted on the blanket at her back, his breath thundering in her ear.

A small voice in the back of her head wanted to hurry this, was afraid they'd be interrupted, but Lila forced herself to focus, to stay slow, so savor every touch, every kiss, every slide of him against her. Because that same voice whispered that this might be the last time. And even though she pushed it away and refused to think that way, the echo of the darkness on the other side of that thought didn't go away.

Silence was difficult.

She wanted to say his name. Wanted to whisper her love. Wanted to let herself respond to his touch. But she knew why he needed this silent. Knew they didn't want to share this with anyone. So she caught the blanket around them too, and kept herself to panting breaths and stroking tongues, instead of joyful cries.

This angle gave her access to him in a way she wasn't used to. Higher against him, she could rake her fingers through his hair and, arched as best she could with the sore rib, let her nipples tease against his chest. Her breath came fast and shallow and she pushed the pain away as Dane's desperation for her grew, as he threw off the shackles of his fear and anger, and gave over to her.

One hand on her breast, he thumbed her nipple, gently at first then with more force. Lila gasped. His other hand held her hip, his fingers clawing. His breath tore in and out and she met him stroke for stroke, urging him to unhinge.

With her good arm, Lila reached between them and raised herself up to guide him in. When they finally joined, his breath shuddered and her head dropped back, mouth open in a silent moan. She had to hold her breath to stop herself crying out when he began to move, slowly at first, pressing into the peak with every thrust.

Dane's mouth latched on her neck, his hands at her hips, pulling her against him as he rolled his up, into her. Between the angle and their intensity, her sensation was endless—no hollowing, no loss to be filled, but instead a unity that increased and eased, but never stopped. She panted shamelessly, but held her breath at every urge to speak or cry, and found her skin lighting up with a new intensity she'd never felt before.

It was as if every cry she stifled rolled back into to feed the flames between them and urge her to call for him again.

Dane's breathing was desperate against her throat, his hands grasping as they rolled together again, and again, and again.

He sat up, his hands dragging down her back. She sucked in when he pressed on her rib, but just clung tighter, unwilling, even in pain, to be separated from him.

Then, with the tiniest whimper in his throat, he drew up his knees behind her and pressed her back against them, until she lay back, her breasts pressed upwards towards him. Pulling the blanket up, over his head, with a stifled grunt he dropped his mouth to the peak of first one breast, then the other. Lila opened her mouth in a silent scream. Her skin sparkled where he touched and she mouthed his name over and over.

As if he heard her call, Dane pulled back up to kiss her, his tongue tracing hers in a pulsing slide that matched the roll of his hips. She was unable to do anything but hold on, clinging to him as he kept up that relentless, steady pace, pulling her onto him, his hands, his limbs, even his breath shaking with restrained desire.

Lila buried her fingers in his hair, pulling him in and leaning her head aside to give him better access when he dropped to kiss his way back down her neck.

His breath was hoarse, his mouth open on her skin, hot and sharp, and he had her pressed back against his knees when he straightened, sliding his hands up her sides and pulled her into him with a shuddering sigh.

In the same moment her body exploded with heat and fire, Lila felt something in her side give under his hand. But she stifled the cry, clinging to him, desperate as he ground into her, wringing every last wave of heat and joy out of her.

*****

Dane

Under the shadow of the blanket, the only light from the small gaps beneath it and behind him, Lila was stretched out over his thighs like a cat, her breasts high, hands in his hair, her mouth open and eyes squeezed shut and she looked so incredibly beautiful, so perfect, the moment crystallized for him.

He dropped his head to latch onto her breast, the flat of his tongue pulling against her hardened nipple as he grasped at her and pulled her home against him with all the desperation of a man losing his last grip on life.

She was life, to him. She was his life. And as the wave of his orgasm threatened to crest, and the fear that this might be the last time he ever got to see her this way loomed, he became a man possessed.

He wanted to take her, to consume her, to brand her with his love.

He slid his hands up her sides then pulled her to him, reaching depths within her he was certain he'd never reached, as if he could pull their hearts together and make them one.

She arched under his hands, gasping, her fingers fisting in his hair to the point of pain as she stifled her own cry and tightened so beautifully around him, Dane wanted to weep.

As the waves of her climax pulsed on his most sensitive skin, his own crashed over him and buried his face in her neck, teeth bared against her skin as he swallowed her name again and again and again.

It seemed to go on forever, this moment without the world. Without fear. Without pain. Just the two of them, skin to skin, skin in skin, the rhythm of their movement only the beginning of the music they played together. And, as if it had broken through some kind of barrier in his heart, Dane saw it all… love, life, family, children, time. He saw a life built on love and unity, not fear or pain. He saw a home—not a cold apartment, distant from the world. But a warm and comfortable home nested in nature and tradition. And it was… beautiful.

Then the moment ended and as he returned to reality, sank back into his own skin, Dane shuddered and shook under the darkness.

He wept for the loss of what could have been.

*****

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