"More," she gasps, rolling her hips against my face. "Please?—"
I add a second finger, stretching her carefully while my tongue continues its work. Her inner walls grip me, slick and hot, and I can barely comprehend how good it will feel when I’m inside her.
She comes with a sharp cry, her body clamping down on my fingers as pleasure crashes through her. I work her through it, gentling my touches as she becomes oversensitive, pressing kisses to her inner thigh.
"Now," she demands when she can speak again, pulling at my shoulders. "I want you inside me now."
I move up her body, positioning myself at her entrance. The first press of my cock against her makes us both gasp—she’s slick from her release, but still incredibly tight. I push forward slowly, gritting my teeth against the urge to thrust deep.
"Breathe," I remind her as her body resists the intrusion. "Relax for me."
She does, and I slide deeper, inch by torturous inch. Her breath comes in short pants as she adjusts to my size, nailsdigging into my shoulders. When I’m halfway seated, she wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper.
"Don’t stop," she gasps. "I can take it. I want all of you."
I push forward until I’m fully sheathed, buried to the hilt in her heat. We freeze, both overwhelmed. She’s so tight around me, gripping me like a fist. I can feel every flutter of her inner muscles, every shift of her body beneath mine.
"Move," she demands. "Please—I need?—"
I pull back and thrust forward, setting a rhythm that’s slow and deep. Each stroke draws sounds from her that drive me higher—breathy moans, gasped pleas, my name broken by pleasure. Her body moves with mine, meeting each thrust, taking everything I give.
"Harder," she gasps, nails raking down my back. "I won’t break."
I let go of the careful control, thrusting deeper, faster. The sound of flesh meeting flesh fills the room, punctuated by her cries and my guttural groans. I can feel pleasure building at the base of my spine, tightening in my balls.
"Touch yourself," I growl against her ear. "I want to feel you come on my cock."
She slides a hand between us, fingers finding where we’re joined before moving up to circle her sensitive nub. Her inner walls immediately flutter around me, and I know she’s close.
"That’s it," I encourage, angling my hips to hit deeper. "Let me feel it. Come for me."
She shatters with a scream, her body clamping down on me with force that triggers my own release. I thrust through it, spilling inside her with a roar, pleasure whiting out everything except the sensation of her body milking mine, taking everything I have to give.
I collapse beside her, pulling her against my chest where she fits perfectly. We lie tangled in sheets and each other, breathing hard, skin slick with sweat and satisfaction.
"That was—" She starts, then seems unable to find adequate words.
"Yes." I press a kiss to her hair. "It was."
She’s quiet for a long moment, fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest. "Is it—was it different? From before?"
"Before was duty, necessity, sometimes just physical release." Honesty compels me to give her the full truth. "This was choice. That makes all the difference."
She tilts her head back to look at me. "For me too."
We drift in comfortable silence as afternoon light shifts toward evening. Eventually, necessity drives us from the bed—hunger, thirst, the practical needs that accompany survival.
We dress in clothes from trunks, moving around the kitchen to prepare a simple meal. The domesticity of it—chopping vegetables, stirring soup, setting the table—feels surreal after everything we’ve endured.
"I could get used to this," Rhea says as we sit down to eat. "The quiet. The peace."
"It’s unsettling," I admit. "I keep waiting for the next attack. Peace feels temporary."
"Maybe it doesn’t have to be." She reaches across the table to take my hand. "Maybe we’ve earned the right to just... live."
The concept is foreign, but looking at her face in the candlelight, seeing hope reflected there, I find myself wanting to believe.
That night, we return to the bedroom and learn each other again, this time with less urgency and more thorough exploration. She shows me what she likes, guides my hands to places that make her gasp. I discover that she’s sensitive behind her knees, that she makes the most intoxicating sounds when Iuse my mouth between her thighs, that she’s surprisingly bold when given permission to take what she wants.
