His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him. She made a sound against his mouth of hunger and her fingers tangled in his hair. The kiss deepened, turned urgent, became something that felt like claiming.
Her wispy shadows wrapped around them both, creating warmth and darkness and privacy that felt almost sacred. They snaked across his skin like physical touch, sliding beneath his shirt, tracing muscle and scars with curiosity that bordered on reverence.
Tristan yanked his shirt over his head, hissing as the movement pulled at healing wounds. She immediately traced the marks the doppelgänger had left, her touch gentle despite the heat building between them.
"Does it hurt?"
"Not enough to matter."
She kissed his shoulder, then his collarbone, working her way down his chest while her hands mapped muscle and skin. He stood frozen, letting her explore, his breathing harsh in the quiet cabin.
When her mouth found his nipple, teeth scraping lightly, his hips bucked involuntarily.
"My turn to touch you," she said, looking up through dark lashes. "You had your chance last time. Now I want mine."
Her hand slid down his stomach, finding the waistband of his pants. She paused there, giving him a chance to stop this before it went too far.
He didn't.
She opened his pants then slid her hand inside to wrap around him. The contact sent fire through his veins. He was already hard, had been since she'd stood up wearing almost nothing, but her touch made it almost painful.
"Fuck," he breathed.
"Not yet." She stroked him slowly, learning his length, his shape, what made his breath catch. "But soon."
Tristan caught her wrist, stopping the movement before it destroyed what remained of his control. "If you keep doing that, this ends before it starts."
"Then maybe you should do something about it."
He lifted her easily, carrying her to the blankets spread near the fire. She went willingly, her legs wrapping around his waist, her mouth finding his neck. He laid her down carefully despite the urgency screaming through him, taking a moment just to look.
She was all lean strength and soft curves, her black curls spread across rough wool, her silver eyes watching him with heat and trust and want.
"You're staring," she said.
"You're worth staring at."
He kissed her again, slower this time, tasting and exploring while his hands worked to remove the last barriers between them. Her undergarments came off easily, revealing skin he'd imagined touching more times than he'd admit.
She arched into him when his hand slid between her legs, finding her already wet and ready. He stroked her carefully, watching her face, learning what made her gasp and what made her moan.
"Tristan, please?—"
"Please what?"
"Stop teasing." Her hips rolled against his hand, seeking more pressure, more friction. "I want you."
"You have me."
He slid one finger inside her, then two, feeling her tighten around him. Her head fell back, revealing the long line of herthroat. He kissed it while working her with his hand, building heat and pressure until she was shaking beneath him.
"I'm going to—" she started.
"Then do it."
She came with his name on her breath, her body tightening around his fingers, her shadows flaring bright enough to light the entire cabin. He worked her through it, bringing out the pleasure until she pushed his hand away with a breathless laugh.
"Your turn," she said, reaching for him.
