The third hour, I almost believed we'd be okay.
Then she moaned.
It was soft at first, barely audible. A sound of discomfort that made me reach for the medi-kit. But then it came again, and this time there was something else in it. Something that made my skin prickle with awareness and dread.
Her body shifted beneath the blanket, restless. Another moan, louder now. Her back arched slightly, and even in the dim light, I could see the flush spreading across her skin.
"No," I whispered. "Not yet. Please, not yet."
Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy. She glanced around the cave without seeing it, without seeing me. Then her gaze found me and locked on, and the expression that crossed her face made my breath catch.
Hunger. Pure, desperate hunger.
"Please," she whispered, her voice rough and broken. "Please, I need..."
She tried to sit up, the blanket falling away. Her movements were uncoordinated, driven by instinct rather than thought. She crawled toward me, and I should have moved, should have put distance between us, but I felt frozen.
She reached me, her hands finding my chest, my shoulders. Her body pressed against mine as she climbed into my lap, straddling me with a desperation that was painful to witness.
"Please," she said again, her lips finding my jaw, my neck. "I need you. I need... it hurts. Please make it stop hurting."
Her mouth found mine, and she kissed me with a ferocity that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with survival. Her body moved against mine, seeking friction, seeking relief from the chemical fire burning through her.
"Please fuck me," she gasped against my lips. "Please, I'm begging you. I need it. I need you inside me. Please."
My hands found her shoulders, meaning to push her back, to create space, but she whimpered at the contact and pressed closer. Her skin was burning up beneath my palms.
"Please," she sobbed. "I'll do anything. Anything you want. Just please, please touch me. Fuck me. I can't... I can't take it anymore."
Her hands were at my belt, fumbling with the buckle. Tears streamed down her face, and I didn't know if they were from desperation or pain or the drug itself.
"Stop," I managed, catching her wrists. "Stop, you don't—"
"I do," she insisted, fighting against my grip. "I do want it. I need it. Please. You're here, you're real, please just—"
She ground against me, and goddess help me, my body responded. The venerem in her system was potent enough that even secondhand exposure through her skin, her saliva, was affecting me. I could feel the heat building, the unwanted arousal.
"Alright," I conceded, my voice trembling. "Alright. Let me... let me try to help."
I eased her back onto the blanket, and she went willingly, desperately, her legs falling open. The sight of her like that—vulnerable, needy, completely at my mercy—made something primal stir in my chest. I pushed it down. This wasn't about me. This was about keeping her alive.
I slid my hand between her thighs, and she cried out at the contact, her hips bucking up to meet my touch. She was soaked, her body preparing itself for what the drug demanded. I worked my fingers against her, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her gasp and arch.
"Yes," she moaned. "Yes, please, more."
I added a finger inside her, then another, working them in and out while my thumb circled her clit. She was tight andhot and so responsive it made my head spin. Every touch drew another sound from her throat, another roll of her hips.
But it wasn't enough. I could see it in the way she thrashed, the way her hands clawed at the blankets, the way she sobbed my name—or what she thought was my name—a garbled word that I deciphered as Aslan.
I lowered my mouth to her, tasting her, and she screamed. Her thighs clamped around my head as I worked her with my tongue, licking and sucking while my fingers continued their rhythm. She came hard, her entire body seizing, but the relief lasted only seconds before the need crashed back over her.
"Please," she begged again, pulling at my shoulders. "Please, I need more. I need you. Please fuck me. Please."
I studied her face, saw the tears still streaming, saw the desperation and pain, and knew I had no choice. If I didn't do this, the drug would kill her. Her heart would give out, or her brain would cook in her skull. She'd simply burn up from the inside.
Goddess, forgive me.
I moved up her body, settling between her thighs. My hands shook as I freed myself. The venerem had me half-hard already, and the sight of her—spread out beneath me, begging for it—did the rest.
