He strains against his bonds, leaning into her as much as he is able, mouth shifting against hers, soft and warm. The tingle at the back of his neck spreads along his limbs and into his chest, and he shudders with pleasure. The kiss stays gentle, the lap of a wave. She moves with him and he with her, careful with every tiny gesture, as if afraid to startle them out of this moment.
There is no anguish or urgency. There is instead the curious feeling that everything is just right, like they had been meant to kiss a long time ago, that even though they should hate each other now, their bodies have done this dance around each other so often that now they know every pain and grief and joy. They know, and they fit.
Ari shivers as Sam deepens their kiss. She is everything he has ever imagined. He wants to undo his bonds and wrap his arms around her, wants her to sink into his embrace. He wants to get to know her in the way that they always should have, wants her to get to know him. He wants to be free with her.
Can that ever be possible?
And perhaps this final thought is what ends their union. She pulls away reluctantly from his warmth. His lips part from hers. They gaze at eachother through lidded eyes, breaths shallow, yearning for more. Neither of them says a word. They don’t need to. They remember that they are not free yet, that the trap is still all around them.
“Be ready,” she whispers.
Then she leans away from him, straightens, and turns away.
For the want of a nail the shoe was lost,
For the want of a shoe the horse was lost,
For the want of a horse the rider was lost,
For the want of a rider the battle was lost,
For the want of a battle the kingdom was lost,
And all for the want of a horseshoe-nail.
Poor Richard’s Almanackby Benjamin Franklin, 1758
