She matched him, her hand in his hair, nails digging into his scalp as she opened to him. The bed was at their knees, the fire at their backs, and the rest of the world ceased to exist.
Clothes fell away in pieces, his cravat tossed into the fire, her stays unlaced by trembling fingers, his waistcoat discarded so quickly one of the buttons ricocheted off the bedpost. Her shift joined the pile, and for a moment, they simply stared at one another, as if each expected the other to vanish.
Then he pulled her down with him, mouth on her throat, hands tracing every bruise and scratch. She returned the favor, exploring the ridge of his ribs, the line of his spine, the rough edge of an old scar on his hip.
It was not gentle, but it was honest. Every touch a demand, every gasp an answer. They rolled together, her hair tangling them both, his breath loud in her ear as she bit his shoulder to muffle her own sounds.
He whispered her name as he entered her, the syllables full of need. She arched against him, nails digging into his back, legs wrapped around his waist. The first shock—too sharp, too much—gave way to a heat that drowned everything else.
They moved as if they could outpace the night, sweat and blood and salt on their skin. He said her name again, voice cracking, and she shuddered around him, the world collapsing into color once more.
After, they lay tangled together, sheets twisted beneath them, bodies sticky with the evidence of violence, survival, and spent passion. Lydia traced the lines of his face with her fingertips, watching as he struggled to regain the composure she had dismantled.
“Is this the part,” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper, “where you remind me of my reputation and yours?”
He pulled her close, his hand on the small of her back. “This is the part,” he said, “where we stop pretending it matters.”
They did not speak of what tomorrow might bring. The candles flickered, the fire subsided, and the only sound was the slow, shared rhythm of their breathing.
In the darkness, Lydia's hand found his and held fast. She smiled, eyes closed, as he pulled her closer.
They drifted toward sleep, bruised and battered but alive.
