She doesn’t look away. Not once. Her steady, unflinching trust hits harder than any cry ever could.
She’s here, open and unguarded. And I’ll give her everything.
Still kneeling, I strip off my shirt, dragging it over my head in one slow motion, baring skin that aches to touch hers.
She reaches up, tracing her fingers over the scars and ink on my chest. “I’d like to know more about these one day.”
I nod. “When you’ve earned it. But right now, you’ve earned something else.”
My hands move to my belt, unfastening it with a quiet snap. The zipper slices through the hush, loud in the silence. The sound of a man unraveling.
Now there’s nothing between us.
I crawl over her slowly. My body hovers above hers, and her legs part in quiet invitation. Her arms stretch up over her head, displaying the graceful length of her body.
I settle between her thighs, bracing myself on either side of her. My eyes never leave hers.
She asked for safety tonight, and I’ll give her that. Not just protection or control. But something deeper and steadier.
She’ll get all of me—every thought and intention. Every inch.
Unmasked in every way that matters.
I ease into her. Slowly. Agonizingly slow.
Each inch is a promise, each movement deliberate. Not for conquest or speed. But for something deeper.
Heat coils around me. First a whisper, then a burn.
She arches beneath me, a soft gasp slipping from her parted lips. Her thighs spread wider. Not out of desperation, but out of invitation. A cage made of want.
No savage rhythm like usual. Only the agony of restraint and the slow, building pressure of knowing each other.
My arms brace beside her, and my eyes stay locked on hers.
I don’t need to rush.
I don’t want to rush.
Tonight is about more than release, more than hunger. It’s about her feeling safe, about letting her trust every inch of me. Not as predator and prey but as strength in flesh and something sacred.
I move inside her, my hips rolling in deep strokes. Her fingers skim up my arms and settle at my shoulders. No pulling or desperation. Just closeness and heat.
She clenches around me, legs tightening. Her lips move, but no sound comes out. Only breath.
I kiss her jaw, cheek, and collarbone. My hands cup her hips, guiding her rhythm to match mine. Our bodies align, designed in tandem.
She arches, and a soft groan rips from her lips as her fingers dig into my back. Her voice—barely more than a breath—cuts through the haze.
“Don’t stop… please… Bastien.”
Then a gasp, and finally, her release. A tremor ripples from her core and surges through me until the world narrows to nothing but skin and warmth and sound.
I fall into it, coming hard and deep, my head bowed and breath broken against her throat. I stay buried in her, not moving or speaking. The sound of her breathing is the only rhythm that matters.
We stay like that for a while before I pull out and ease down to lie beside her. Every part of me trembles from the moment we justshared. My hand rests on her stomach, fingers splayed flat. I don’t want a bit of space between us. Not a single inch.
The candlelight flickers, and tiny shadows dance across the walls. I get up, muscles heavy and senses still ablaze, and snuff out the flame.
