"Baby," he said quietly, "I don't have any condoms."
The words hung between them. Rachel's chest was heaving, her body aching for him, but she heard the question underneath. The vulnerability. The trust he was asking for.
She looked up at him. His eyes were searching hers, dark and intense and completely focused on her.
"I'm on birth control," she said. "And I'm clean. I trust you, Logan."
He stayed completely still. His thumb kept moving gently along her jaw, that same grounding rhythm, but she felt his other hand curl into a fist against the mattress beside her head.
"I've never..." He paused, swallowed hard. His voice was rough when he continued. "I've never been with anyone without protection. I'm always careful, Rachel. Always. The Navy tests us every six months. I'm clean."
She could hear the hesitation in his voice. Not from desire, that was obvious in every rigid line of him, in the way his cock pulsed hot and hard against her. This was something else. This mattered to him. She mattered to him.
He swallowed hard. "I just... I don't want to hurt you. You're..." He trailed off, like he didn't have the words for what she was to him.
Rachel lifted one hand to his face, fingers tracing along his jaw, feeling the scratch of stubble beneath her palm. "You won't hurtme," she whispered. "You're not going to hurt me, Logan. I want this. I want you. All of you."
His face changed. She watched his eyes close briefly, watched relief and need and something that looked like awe cross his features. When he opened his eyes again, they were wet.
"Rachel," he breathed, then leaned down and kissed her, slower this time, deeper, like her trust meant everything, like she meant everything.
His kiss grew more urgent, more desperate. His tongue swept into her mouth and she met him, tasting him, feeling the barely controlled need in the way his body trembled against hers.
He shifted his weight, nudging her thighs wider with his knees. The heat between them was impossible to ignore. Her body was slick and aching, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. His length was hard and heavy, pressing against her inner thigh, and she could feel the heat radiating off him.
Rachel watched as he reached between them, wrapping one hand around himself. His jaw clenched as he stroked once, then guided the thick head to her entrance. The moment he made contact, the moment he felt how wet she was, his breath caught audibly.
"Jesus, baby," he groaned. "You're so wet for me."
She nodded, unable to form words. She could feel him there, the blunt pressure of him right where she needed him, and her body was already trying to draw him in.
He pushed forward. Just the head at first, and even that stretched her. A groan tore from his chest as he sank deeper, inch by slow inch, her body stretching to accommodate him. The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure edged with the slightest hint of pain as she adjusted to his size.
He paused halfway, his forearm braced beside her head, bicep flexed with the effort of holding himself still. His other hand was still cradling her neck, thumb stroking gently along her pulse point. Like she was something precious. Something he couldn't bear to break.
Rachel's head fell back against the pillow. Her lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as he sank deeper. He was thick, filling her in a way that bordered on too much. She felt every inch of him, the stretch and burn and fullness. Her body fluttered around him, adjusting, accepting.
When he was fully seated inside her, buried to the hilt, he stilled. She felt impossibly full, like there was no room left inside her for anything but him.
"You okay?" he asked. His voice was strained, barely controlled.
Rachel's eyes fluttered open. She was dazed, breathless, overwhelmed by the sensation of him inside her. "I've never felt this full before," she whispered. "You're so big, Logan."
She felt him pulse inside her at her words, felt him grow impossibly harder. He lowered his head, brushing his mouth along her cheek, down to her jaw. His lips were soft, reverent, at odds with the rigid tension in his body.
"I'll go slow, baby," he murmured against her skin. "Let you adjust. I don't want to hurt you."
But she was already moving, hips shifting, drawing him in somehow deeper. Her body clenched around him and she heard him groan, low and guttural.
"Please," she said, her voice breaking on the word. "I need you, Logan. Need you to move."
A sound rumbled from his chest. Pulling out slowly, so slowly she felt every ridge of him dragging along her inner walls, he pushed back in, filling her completely. The sensation stole her breath.
"Rachel…" he breathed.
He did it again, that slow, deliberate withdrawal, feeling every inch of her gripping him, trying to hold him inside, before he drove back in, deep and sure and devastating.
His rhythm built, heat spiraling through her. Her body arched to meet his, needing more, taking every inch he gave. His name slipped from her lips, barely a whisper, but she felt him react to it. His movements grew harder, deeper, more demanding.
