“You always run hot,” I whisper.
“You always drive me there.”
We don’t kiss right away. There’s a beat—an ache—where we just breathe in the space between us. The air feels dense. Charged.
Then he leans down, slowly, reverently, and brushes his lips against mine.
It’s not hunger. Not yet.
It’s reverence.
A question.
My answer is in the way my hands slide into his hair, the way my mouth parts under his, the way our foreheads rest together even after we pull back, both of us breathless and trembling in a way battle never made us.
“I want all of it,” I whisper.
He cups my face in one large, careful hand. “You already have it.”
When our lips meet again, it’s different.
Deeper.
Slower.
We move like we’re mapping each other—no hurry, no fumbling, just heat and exploration. His mouth trails down my jaw, over the pulse in my neck, and I arch into him, hands tracing the ridges of his spine, the curve of his shoulder blades,the familiar warmth of skin I’ve only touched through armor and adrenaline.
Now, there’s no armor.
Only us.
He pulls me down with him, carefully, like I’m something sacred. The cot creaks under our weight, the sheets cool against my back. I feel every inch of him—strong, steady, warm like fire coiled in flesh. His tail curls around my thigh instinctively, grounding me.
“Still good?” he asks against my skin.
I nod, eyes fluttering. “Better than good.”
He chuckles, the sound low and rough and almost shy.
We kiss again. And again. Mouths learning new rhythms. Bodies finding old sync in a softer context. When his hand slides under the hem of my shirt, it doesn’t feel like a question—it feels like a promise.
I help him strip it away, and he does the same for me, our movements unhurried, reverent. Skin meets skin. Heartbeats stutter. The space between us collapses until there’s no room for anything but this moment—no war, no history, no scars but the ones we choose to show each other.
His fingers trail down my ribs like he’s memorizing them.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathes.
I laugh, breath hitching. “You’re biased.”
“I’m right.”
We move together, limbs tangled, breaths mingling, every touch a new kind of truth. He learns what makes me gasp. I learn where he shivers. Our bodies talk without words, saying all the things we’ve never dared to say aloud.
I love you.
I trust you.
You’re mine.
