He finally stripped off his own clothes, then reached for the lube we kept nearby. Prepared me with fingers that were efficient and thorough, stretching me open while I gasped and moaned against the glass.
"That's it. Open up for me. Let me in."
"Please, I need—"
"I know what you need." He withdrew his fingers and I whimpered at the loss. Then he was there, pressing against me, pushing inside slowly.
I cried out as he filled me, the stretch intense, the feeling of being owned complete. He didn't stop until he was fully seated, both of us breathing hard.
"Look at you," he murmured. "Taking me so perfectly. Like you were made for this. Made for me."
"I was. I am." I tried to move but he held me still.
"Not yet. I want you to feel this. Feel me inside you. Feel who you belong to."
"I feel it. God, Luca, I feel it."
"Good." He started to move then, slow deep thrusts that made me see stars. "You're mine. Say it."
"I'm yours."
"Again."
"I'm yours. Luca, I'm yours."
"That's right." He picked up the pace, harder now, more intense. "Mine to protect. Mine to claim. Mine to love."
"Yes. All of it. Yes."
He fucked me against the windows with the city spread out below us, both of us lost in the sensation, in the connection, in the desperate need to prove we belonged to each other despite everything trying to tear us apart.
"Touch yourself," he ordered. "I want to feel you come around me."
I wrapped a hand around myself, stroking in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation pushed me closer to the edge, pleasure building impossibly high.
"Luca—I'm close—"
"Then come. Come for me. Show me you're mine."
I came with a cry, spilling over my hand while my body clenched around him. The sensation pushed him over the edge too and he buried himself deep, grinding against me as he came.
We stayed like that for a long moment, both panting, both wrung out. Then he carefully pulled out and turned me in his arms, pressing my back against the glass and my front against his chest.
"I love you," he said fiercely. "I'm in love with you. Completely. And no one—not Reeves, not the FBI, not anyone—is taking you from me."
"I love you too." I held on to him. "Whatever happens, we face it together."
"Together." He kissed me softly. "Always together."
We stood there for a while, holding each other against the windows, both looking out at the city that had become our home. The city where we'd built something real from a dark beginning. Where we'd fallen in love despite every reason not to.
"He's going to file charges," I said quietly. "Within the week, he said."
"I know."
"We're going to be arrested. Arraigned. This is going to be public and ugly."
"I know that too."
