His hands leave my back to help.It’s a clumsy tangle of urgent, uncoordinated movements, our efforts hampered by wet fabric and trembling fingers.Together, we finally wrestle the T-shirt up and over his head.
He tosses it blindly aside.It lands with a wet slap against the glass enclosure behind us.
His skin is fire beneath my palms as I flatten them against his chest.His breathing turns harsh, his head tilting back as if absorbing the shock of the contact.
His gaze drops to mine.
Burning.
Possessive.
All-consuming.
His hands find the hem of my waterlogged sweater and pull it rapidly upward.I lift my arms instinctively, arching my back to help him peel the clinging fabric away.He tosses it aside, a second wet slap of fabric against the glass.
His hands return instantly to the bare skin of my back.His grip is possessive, pulling me flush against him, leaving no room for air.No room for thought.
Skin against skin.
My softer curves press flush against the hard planes of his muscular chest, both slick with water.
Our mouths collide again.This time, it’s a lit match to gasoline, an incendiary heat that burns away the last of my restraint.
My fingers dig into the knotted muscles of his shoulder blades.
Trying to absorb his suffering.
Trying to lose my own.
Our kiss continues, deep and consuming, a frantic exploration until he pulls back fractionally, his breathing harsh.
“Amy...?”
I pull my head back enough to meet his gaze.
His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, still swimming with hurt but now also burning with an undeniable need that mirrors my own.
I hold his gaze, trying to pour all my certainty into that single look.Then, I give an almost imperceptible nod.
His mouth finds mine again, capturing my answering gasp.
One arm slides securely around my back, beneath my shoulders.Gently, but with undeniable purpose, he lowers me backward.His other hand plants firmly on the slick tile floor, bracing himself as he guides me down.I cling to his shoulders, lost in the dizzying slide of his tongue against my own.He tears his lips from mine, lifting his head to look down at me, chest heaving.His wet hair is slicked back except for the shorter strands near his temples, falling forward, framing his face.His body hovers over mine, weight braced on his arms on either side of my shoulders.His turbulent greens bore into mine.A maelstrom of grief, need, and brazen desire, mirroring the storm raging within me.
A shared surge of urgency overrides everything else.
It’s a clumsy tangle of wet, heavy fabric clinging stubbornly to wet skin.Slick fingers struggle with resistant fasteners in the awkward confines of the shower floor.Buttons yield.Zipper slides grudgingly down.Sodden denim and fleece are pulled, shoved, and kicked away impatiently, pooling somewhere near our feet.
And then, it’s just us.
Breath against breath, the cascading water our only witness.I hold on to him, trembling slightly, overcome by the terrifying yet exhilarating feeling of being laid bare, skin and soul, in the shared devastation of his brokenness.
When he claims my mouth this time, his kiss holds nothing back.It’s a desperate staking of a claim amidst the ruins of the day, a silent vow that eclipses everything else.His body follows, lowering slowly, purposefully.We move together, driven by an urgent need for oblivion, right here in the heart of the storm that brought us both to our knees.Low, guttural sounds from his throat mingle with my own breathless gasps as his kisses swallow them whole.His grip on my hips is bruising, holding me here in this shattering present, filling an aching void.
The drumming water is a relentless soundtrack, cocooning us in steam and spray, washing away everything but this uninhibited connection.Every touch, every breath seems laced with the grief and pain, yet paradoxically offers a fierce, almost violent comfort.
A purging.
Erasing boundaries.Absorbing suffering.Finding a desperate refuge.
