I looked.
His hands were flat on the bed, not touching me. His eyes were steady, patient, waiting.
“We can stop,” he said.
“I don’t want to stop.”
“Then tell me what you need.”
What I needed. Such a simple question. Such a hard answer.
“I need you to keep talking,” I said. “I need to hear your voice. So I know it’s you.”
“It’s me.” His hand came up slowly, giving me time to track the movement, and touched my face. “It’s me, Anhara. I’m here. We’re here. And nothing happens that you don’t want.”
I breathed. Once. Twice. The past retreated, sliding back into its locked room.
“I want this,” I said. “I want you.”
“Then take what you want.”
I sank down onto him.
The stretch was slow, intense, and those flanges did exactly what they were designed to do. Every ridge caught against my inner walls, stroking places I didn’t know could feel this good. He kept talking. Small words, meaningless words, just his voice in my ear, anchoring me to the present. By the time he was fully inside me, I was shaking, but not from fear.
“Okay?” he asked.
“More than okay.”
I started to move.
The rhythm built slowly. I set the pace, and he let me lead. Every stroke, those flanges rippled inside me. His hands roamed my body, learning me, and when he kissed my throat, I felt that euphoria spread through me again, making everything sharper and softer at once.
“I can feel you,” he said. “Every time you tighten around me. Every sound you make.”
“What am I feeling?”
“Heat. Want.” His breathing roughened as I rolled my hips. “And something else. Something I don’t have a word for.”
“Good something or bad something?”
“Good.” His hands gripped my hips, steadying but not controlling. “Very good.”
The pleasure built. Layered. Deepened. It was different than anything I’d felt before, the flanges stroking me from inside, his saliva’s euphoria spreading through me, his heat surrounding me.
“Kallum.” His name on my lips. Half warning, half plea.
“I know.” His hand slid between us, finding the spot where we joined, and the pressure he added was exactly right. “I’ve got you. Let go.”
I let go.
The orgasm rolled through me, wave after wave, and I felt him shudder beneath me. He followed a moment later, his back arching off the bed, his hands gripping my hips, and the sound he made was raw and broken and real.
After, we lay tangled together in the narrow bed. His arm around me, my head on his shoulder, careful to avoid the bandages. The sweat cooled on my skin, but his warmth lingered, steady and comforting against my side.
“That was,” he started.
“Yeah.”
