“I do,” she whispers against my mouth.“I own you.”
I grin, feral.“Good.Then use me.However you want.”
She does.She rides me with purpose, not to prove anything, not to chase away ghosts, but because she likes it.Because pleasure is hers now and she doesn’t apologize for it.
Every sound she makes drives me closer to the edge.Every shiver.Every whispered “yes, yes, yes” when I thumb her clit and watch her fall apart on my cock.
She comes with my name on her lips.And I follow, helpless, undone under her, my hands holding her like the most precious thing I’ve ever been trusted with.
After, she collapses onto my chest, laughing breathlessly.
“What?”I ask, still dazed.
She kisses my shoulder.“I’m not scared of fire anymore.”
I kiss the top of her head.“That’s because you are one.”
“I’m not looking over my shoulder anymore,” she whispers, wonder threaded through the words like light.
“No,” I agree.“You’re not.”
Tears come, quiet and relieved.I catch them with my thumb, then kiss the salt from her cheeks like I have all the time in the world.Because I do.Because I’m staying.
“Now what?”she asks again, softer this time.
“Now,” I say, standing and tugging her up with me, “we live.”
An hour later, I spin her once in the middle of the kitchen just to hear her laugh.Aunt Dee claps like she planned the whole thing, which she probably did.
We make dinner with too much butter.We dance stupidly.We argue about nothing and end up kissing against the counter while the pasta overcooks.
We start building something, not out of ashes, not out of fear, but out of choice.
And later, when she falls asleep curled into my side again, her hand over my heart like she’s holding it there on purpose, I stare into the dark and make a vow with no audience but the rain.
I will love her loudly.
I will protect her fiercely without ever putting her in a cage.
I will never be the fire that burns her.Only the warmth she comes home to.
She murmurs in her sleep, something soft and my name, and my chest aches with how much a person can hold without breaking.Scorched hearts don’t stay broken forever.Sometimes they fuse back together stronger at the seams.
Sometimes they find each other in the ash and decide, outrageously, to bloom.
