She kisses me back with the same hunger, the same fury, her fingers digging into my shoulders, nails scraping against the undersuit beneath my armor plating. The small sound she makes in the back of her throat unravels something fundamental in my chest.
I break the kiss long enough to work the armor release at my collar. The chest plate disengages with a hiss of pressure seals. I let it fall to the floor with a crash that probably wakes half the corridor.
Don't care about consequences, about politics, about whether the armor makes enough noise to alert the entire ship when it hits the deck plating.
Can't care about anything except getting closer to her, skin to skin, breath to breath, getting rid of every barrier between us, every layer of protection I've wrapped around myself for decades.
She's already pulling at my shirt, dragging it up and over my head. Her hands find bare skin and I hiss at the contact. Warm.She's so warm compared to the cold I've lived in for years. Her palms slide over my ribs, my chest, tracing scars with a reverence that makes my breath catch.
"Mine," I growl against her neck, teeth grazing the tender hollow of her throat, tasting salt and skin and need, breathing in that rain-and-soil scent that has haunted me since the moment she stepped aboard my ship. "Tell me you're mine."
Her response is immediate and fierce. Her teeth sink into my bottom lip hard enough to sting, hard enough to draw blood, the sharp edge of pain lancing through me like lightning. The sensation spikes straight to my groin, hot and demanding, making me groan against her mouth.
"Only if you're mine," she whispers against my lips, her breath mingling with mine, those clever fingers threading through my hair and pulling just hard enough to make my scalp tingle. There's steel in her voice now, that hidden strength I've always sensed beneath her soft exterior finally showing itself. "Only if you belong to me the same way you're demanding I belong to you."
The possessiveness in her voice destroys me. I lift her like she weighs nothing, carry her the three steps to my desk and set her on the edge. Tactical maps and data-pads scatter to the floor. I don't spare them a glance.
She's already working the fastening of my pants. Efficient. Determined. Those clever hands that grow life from dead soil now intent on unmaking me completely.
I catch her wrists. Hold them. Wait for her to look at me.
"Are you sure?" My voice sounds like I've swallowed gravel. "Because if we do this, there's no going back. I won't let you go. I won't?—"
"I don't want to go back." She's breathing hard, her pupils blown wide, lips swollen from my kiss. "I want this. I want you."
The simple truth of it breaks something in me.
I kiss her again, slower this time. Deeper. Pouring everything I can't say into the slide of my tongue against hers, the way I cradle her face like she's made of starlight and wishes.
Her dress is in the way. Too much fabric, too many fasteners. I find the seam and pull. The material tears with a sound that should probably concern me but only makes her gasp and arch into my touch.
"Expensive," she manages, breathless.
"I'll buy you a thousand." I'm mapping the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, learning the geography of her body with hands that have only ever known how to destroy. "I'll wrap you in silk and starlight. Anything. Everything."
"I just want you." Her hands are in my hair, pulling me down into another kiss. "Just this. Just us."
I work her underwear down her thighs. She kicks them off, and then there's nothing between us but need and heat and the sound of our breathing in the quiet of my quarters.
I press against her. Hard and aching and desperate. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, and the friction of it punches a groan from my chest.
"Please," she whispers against my mouth. Not begging. Demanding. "Haid, please, I need?—"
I sink into her in one slow thrust that steals both our breath.
Tight. Warm. Perfect. Like she was made for this, made for me, made to fit around me like a missing piece I didn't know I'd lost.
She makes a sound caught between a gasp and a moan, her head falling back against the wall, spine arching in a bow that puts her breasts against my chest. I can feel her heartbeat against mine. Racing. Alive.
"Okay?" I force the word out through gritted teeth. Every instinct screams at me to move, to take, to claim, but I hold still. Waiting. "Do I, should I?—"
"Move." Her nails drag down my back. "Gods, Haid,move."
I do.
It's not graceful. Not the slow seduction I might have imagined in my weaker moments. It's desperate and messy and real. The desk scraped against the floor with each thrust. Her gasping for my name like a prayer or a curse. My hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks, claiming her in a way that's probably unforgivable but feels inevitable.
She meets me thrust for thrust, taking everything I give her and demanding more. Her hands are everywhere. My shoulders, my back, tangling in my hair and pulling until the sting makes me groan into her neck.
