I brush the hair back from her face, still moving inside her, slow and deep. I want to tell her what I'm feeling. The words are right there, pressing against my teeth. Three words I haven't said to anyone in centuries.
But I'm not ready. Not yet. So I show her instead.
I lower my forehead to hers and let my body say what my mouth can't.
Her hands come up to frame my face, holding me there, her eyes locked on mine as we move together.
It builds slowly this time, a wave rather than a crash, rising and rising until we're both trembling with it.
"Together," she whispers. "I want to feel you."
"Together."
We shatter at the same moment. Her cry and my groan tangling in the air between us, her body clenching around mine as I spill into her. The pleasure whites out everything else, and for a long suspended moment, there's nothing but sensation and her.
We lie tangled together afterward, breathing hard out of habit rather than need. Her body is draped across mine, one leg thrown over my hips, her head on my chest. I trace lazy patterns on her bare back, feeling the smooth skin, the curve of her spine.
"My shoulder hurts," she admits after a while.
"I know. I've been avoiding it."
She laughs softly. "You were being careful. Even when you were being rough, you were being careful."
"Of course I was." I tilt her chin up so she meets my eyes. "You're mine now. That means your pain is mine to avoid making worse."
"That's very sweet for someone who just had me screaming loud enough to wake the compound."
"Three times."
"Four. You lost count."
I smile against her hair. "Your shoulder needs blood to heal properly."
"Later."
"Celeste."
"Later." She presses a kiss to my chest. "Right now, I just want to stay here. Like this."
I tighten my arms around her. "Then stay."
Silence settles over us. Comfortable. Full.
Outside the window, the first gray hints of dawn are beginning to lighten the sky. The pull of dormancy tugs at my consciousness.
"We should sleep," I say reluctantly.
"Probably." But she doesn't move. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my chest. "Maximus?"
"Yes?"
"When we wake up tonight…" She hesitates. "Will this still be real? Or will you go back to being the cold, distant lord who pretends he doesn't feel anything?"
The question cuts deeper than she knows.
"I spent centuries building walls," I admit. "It won't be easy to tear them down completely. There may be moments when I retreat. When old habits take over." I tilt her chin up so she's looking at me. "But I will never pretend this isn't real. I will never pretend you don't matter. You've carved yourself a place inside me, Celeste. That doesn't disappear with sunrise."
"Promise?"
