Behind me, Roxy stirs.
"Dom?"
Her voice is sleepy, soft. I turn and she's sitting up, rubbing her eyes. Then she sees me, and her eyes go wide. The blood on my hands, my shirt, my face.
"You’ve done it?"
"Yeah."
She doesn't ask for details or ask if he suffered. No questioning whether I'm okay or any of the questions a normal person would ask. She just nods and reaches for the first aid kit, and fills a small bowl with water, soap and a cloth.
"Come back here, you can’t be seen looking like that."
I move to the back and sit on the floor so I don’t mess up the bed. She kneels in front of me and removes my t-shirt before she starts washing my face, then my hands, in the same way she did after the bar fight. Her touch is gentle, methodical, washing away the evidence of what I am.
What we are.
"He fought hard," I say quietly. "Harder than I expected."
"Did he hurt you?"
"Got a few hits in. Nothing serious."
She moves back to my face, dabbing at the cut above my eyebrow that’s now visible after her cleaning me up. Her eyes are focused with zero judgment.
"Thank you," she says.
I look at her. "For what?"
"For keeping us safe."
"He saw you," I tell her. "Described you to the cops and put your face on the news, I had no choice."
"I know."
"I couldn't let that stand."
"I know."
She finishes cleaning me up and sets the cloth aside with the bowl. She turns to me and gently cups my jaw in her hands, her thumbs brushing my cheekbones.
"I’ll always have your back," she says. "Whatever comes next. Whatever we have to do."
"Always together, baby."
She leans in and kisses me. Soft at first, then deeper. I can taste the understanding in it, the acceptance. The bond that's been building since the moment we met, now sealed in blood. When she pulls back, her eyes are dark and certain.
"No going back," she whispers.
"No going back."
I pull her into my lap and she comes willingly, straddling me, her hands in my hair. She presses against me and I can feel her heat through our clothes.
"Fuck me," she says, panting.
I strip her out of her sleep shirt and she works my jeans open, both of us moving with urgency. I push her onto her back, and when I push inside her she gasps, her head falling back, and I grip her thighs hard enough to leave an imprint of my fingers. This isn't soft or gentle.
I have to claim her. This is two people who've crossed every line together and come out the other side bound in blood. Her nails dig into my shoulders as I pound into her, my mouth licking and sucking on her full tits, lapping them up with little bites, needing to taste her. She moans and whines beneath me, clenching around my cock. So fucking good. She's beautiful like this. Wild and free and completely mine.
