Because the way she walked to me—slow, steady, sure—said everything.
No games. No protocol.
Just need.
She touched my chest. Not hard. Just a hand pressed flat, fingers splayed over my heart like she could feel it pounding through bone.
I covered her hand with mine.
And for a long second, we just stood there.
Breathing.
Learning the new shape of things.
The lights stayed dim. The air thick. The world outside could’ve fallen to pieces for all I cared.
When I pulled her into the bed, she didn’t resist.
She curled into me like she’d done it a thousand times before.
And maybe she had—in dreams we never spoke of.
She was quiet. No quips. No fire.
Just her.
Warm. Soft. Unarmored.
She tucked herself under my chin, her fingers finding mine in the dark. And when I laced them together, shesqueezed.
Not hard. Just enough to say,I’m here.
This time, we didn’t rush.
We didn’t claw and crash like the world was ending.
Webreathed.
Took our time.
Mapped each other with reverence.
She kissed the scar beneath my jaw like she’d known it was there all along. I traced the curve of her spine like it might disappear if I didn’t memorize it. Her skin tasted like salt and heat and everything I never let myself want.
We whispered things. Nothing dramatic. Nothing poetic.
Just names. Breathless laughter. Quiet curses that turned into moans.
And when we moved together, it wasn’t just about the fire.
It was aboutfinding homein someone else’s skin.
She broke against me with a shudder that stole every word from my mouth. I held her through it, kissed her temple, murmured something in Vakutan I didn’t know I still remembered.
She didn’t ask what it meant.
Didn’t need to.
