She freezes. Her eyes dart, waiting for punishment.
I keep my touch steady. “You scared right now?” I ask. “Or do you want this because it calms you?”
Her throat works around a silent sound. She presses her palm to her chest—her rapid heartbeat—then offers me her hand. Then her mouth brushes lightly against my skin through the fabric of my pants.
Not sexual. A request.
“You sure?” I ask again, softer. “If you don’t want this, if you’re doing it because you think you owe me—tell me no. Just pull back. I’ll stop.”
She shakes her head hard—not no.Then she takes my wrist and brings my hand to the top of her head, guiding it there. Her language forthis anchors me.
When she leans forward again, she slows, waiting for any sign of refusal.
I slide my thumb across her cheekbone in a consent check—gentle, lingering contact. She melts into the touch, exhaling, eyes closing.
“Alright,” I whisper. “I hear you.”
This isn’t sex. This is Briar’s nervous system reaching for calm, and I won’t rip that away from her. She lowers herself in onesmooth, deliberate motion—her choice, her initiation, her body reclaiming something that once belonged only to fear.
My hand rests lightly on her hair. “Go slow. And remember… you’re in control. I stop the moment you want me to.”
She makes a quiet sound—a small, raw note of relief—before continuing. And I hold her with my voice, my care, and my restraint, giving her the steadiness her shaking hands can’t find yet.
The moment I give her that quiet yes, everything inside Briar shifts.
Her shoulders drop. Her breathing slows. The hard shaking that’s been tearing through her eases almost at once. Her mouth softens. The panic leaves her eyes in pieces.
It’s not subtle. Her body knows this gives her something she needs, and the relief hits fast enough to shake me. The wild, hunted edge in her starts to go still. Even her pulse, frantic under my hand a second ago, begins to settle, and I understand how much she needs this. How much she needsme.
Briar lowers herself fully now, moving with intention. Her hands steady on my thighs. She pauses only once, lifting her gaze to mine, searching for the threat she expects.
There isn’t one.
I stroke her cheek again—our unspoken agreement. She nods, trusting the safety of that touch more than any word.
She begins. I don’t watch her. I watch her hands—how they loosen as her body finds rhythm. I watch her shoulders—how they relax the smallest amount.
I watch her breath—how it evens into something closer to calm. What I don’t let myself watch is everything else. The heat of her. The soft sounds she makes without meaning to. The way my body answers all of it with a want so fierce it takes every piece of the Code I’ve ever learned to hold still beneath it.
I struggle through it. Slow. Deliberate. This moment belongs to her healing, not my hunger. But God help me, wanting her is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. And denying that want might be the hardest.
But I can’t act on any of it. I won’t. This is a girl quieting her nervous system the only way she knows how.
My hand stays anchored in her hair as a point of contact, grounding for both of us. Every muscle in my body is locked down, controlled. The sound that escapes is barely audible, cracked open by the sight of her trying so hard to feel safe, and using my body to do it.
“Briar,” I say, voice rougher than I mean it to be.
She answers with a soft hum—her version ofI’m alright.It hits me harder than anything she’s doing.
I close my eyes, chest rising and falling too quickly. The pressure builds—not just physical, but emotional, overwhelming. Her trust wraps around me tighter than her body ever could.
“Sweet girl,” I whisper, giving her one last chance to pull away. “I’m going to...”
She doesn’t stop. She moves in with delicate certainty, choosing this moment for herself. When release hits, it’s quiet—my breath punching out, hand tightening in her hair for a heartbeat before loosening again. My whole body goes still. A wave of something deep and breaking rolls through my chest.
She rests her cheek on my thigh afterward, the storm inside her finally settling. Her hands uncurl from fists into open palms on my legs. Her shoulders drop fully for the first time since I found her in the woods.
I stare down at her, undone by the trust.
