“I want to make love to you,” Thorne breathes, and the words hit me harder than any order or punishment ever could. My heart skips, stutters, then hammers so loudly I’m sure he can hear it.
That phrase - make love - is almost laughably out of place. But I can see, in the way he hovers over me, the way his hands tremble a little as he pushes the hair from my face, that he means it. The admission feels fragile, like something he’s never allowed himself to say before. I nod because I can’t trust my voice, not when my throat is tight with something dangerously close to hope.
He slides his hands down my arms, setting every nerve alight, then lifts my wrists above my head and intertwines our fingers. His grip is gentle, not binding but interlaced; an offering. He holds me still, just for a moment, and I realize his breathing matches mine; quick, shallow and uneven. He’s just as scared as I am, and that endears him to me, though I suspect he’d hate it if I said as much.
He kisses me, slow and deep. His tongue parts my lips with shocking tenderness, coaxing rather than conquering. I taste coffee and the faintest hint of desperation. I arch up, needing him closer, and he meets me with a carefulness that borders on reverence.
The weight of him is a comfort I didn’t know I needed after everything this day has brought. His hands trace the side of my face, my neck, the slope of my shoulders, letting his fingers dance over all the planes of my skin. His touch is hesitant, almost shy, like he’s afraid I might vanish if he moves too fast.He kisses the tops of my breasts, the dip of my belly, the fading welts and bruises he left in days gone past. He lingers, his lips brushing my flesh in unspoken apology.
I feel beautiful and powerful under his gaze, not just useful or desired or briefly treasured. My skin burns everywhere he looks, everywhere he touches. I want to tell him to hurry up, to take me already, but I don’t want to break this spell. Even though the heat, where our bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, is almost unbearable. “Are you sure you want this?” Thorne asks, his voice cracking on the last word. “It’s been a rough day for you.”
Words abandoned me long ago, so I simply nod, breathless, and open my legs to cradle him. He sinks into me, slow and cautious, stopping every few seconds to search my face for discomfort or regret.
There is none. Even the ache of his entry is lost in the shock of how careful he is.
We move together, bodies tangled, breaths mingling. There’s no choreography, no script. I feel everything. The sweat at his temple, the tremor in his thighs, the hitch in his breath as I tighten around him. He buries his face in my hair and says my name, again and again, like a prayer.
When I come, it’s not the explosion I expected but a slow, blooming warmth that spreads from my center to the tips of my fingers and toes. I cling to him, nails digging into his back, and he shudders, following me over the edge.
Afterwards, he holds me so close our limbs are inseparable. I hear his heart thumping, wild and unsteady, and realize for the first time that he’s breakable. Human.
As we lay tangled together, my head resting on Thorne's chest, I'm struck by how even this is so different from our previous encounters. The silence between us is comfortable, intimate in a way I never expected. I trace lazy patterns on his skin, marveling at how relaxed he seems.
"Stay," Thorne says, his voice earnest. "Not just tonight. Stay with me, Linnea."
My heart skips a beat. I prop myself up on one elbow, searching his face. "What do you mean?"
He looks at me for a long time, like he's memorizing my face, and I wonder what's going on in his head. "I mean, I want you in my life. Not as a submissive or an employee. As... more." He raises his eyes to mine, vulnerable and hopeful. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. I know it's fast, and maybe I'm crazy, but I can't let you go."
I feel dizzy, overwhelmed by his words. Part of me wants to leap at the chance, to say yes without hesitation. But the rational part of my brain urges caution. "Thorne, I... I don't know what to say. This is… we’ve only known each other for two- and a-bit weeks."
He nods, his expression earnest. "I know it's fast. But I've never felt this way before. You've awakened something in me, Linnea. I don't want to lose that."
I bite my lip, conflicted. My heart races at his words, but doubt gnaws at me. "What about all the things you wanted from our contract? The rules, the power dynamic? Do we just set all that aside? How will things work going forward?"
I mean, I’m not opposed, but I kinda need to know. Thorne has some major kinks, and while I signed up to be his whipping boy for three weeks, I’m not sure that’s how I want to live my life. Well… not all the time, anyway, but there’s a time and a place for everything.
Thorne's hand comes up to cup my cheek. "We can figure it out together. When I sought out a partner through Primal Fantasies, it was because I was plagued by dreams, and I was trying to assuage them. I don’t usually live that way. That said, having had that dynamic with you, I won’t lie and say I wouldn’t like to revisit it sometimes.”
There’s a mischievous glint in his eye, the likes of which I’ve never witnessed before, and I find I want to see more of this side of him.
“I know we didn’t start out with a relationship in mind, but I want to try. If you're willing."
I search his eyes, looking for any hint of… I’m not sure what. But all I see is sincerity.
"What about my mom?" I ask softly. "I can't just leave her."
"We'll make it work," he assures me. "Whatever you need, we'll find a way."
I take a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the possibilities stretching out before me. He’s opened himself up to me. The least I can do is the same, even though being vulnerable is scary as fuck.
"I... I want to try too," I whisper, my trembling voice giving me away. "But I’m not gonna lie, I'm kinda scared, Thorne. This is all so new and overwhelming."
He pulls me closer, his arms wrapping around me protectively. "I know. I feel it too," he admits, and the apprehension in his voice makes my heart ache. "But I think what we have is worth exploring. We can take it slow, figure things out day by day. All I’m asking for is a chance."
I nod against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "Okay," I say softly. "Let's try."
Thorne's body relaxes beneath me, as if a great weight has been lifted. He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and I feel him smile. "Thank you," he murmurs.
