Arthur closed the small space between us, hands coming up to frame my face. His thumbs brushed my cheeks like he was grounding himself as much as me, then he kissed me again, slow at first and then deeper, as if he was finally letting himself believe this was real.
My hands slid to his shoulders, then to the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the damp fabric. I tugged, and he understood immediately, pulling back just long enough to shrug it off over his head and let it fall to the floor between us.
When the last of his clothes were gone, he pulled me back into his arms, warm and solid and unmistakably there.
We stepped into the shower together, hot water washing away salt and dust and fear, and it felt like a benediction. Arthur stood close, the heat of him washing over me. I put my hands on his chest. He put his on my waist. We stayed like that for a moment, just holding on.
We touched, slow and curious, hands sliding over skin, learning each other all over again in a gentler world. Arthur kissed my shoulder, then pressed his forehead to mine.
“Come here,” he said quietly.
The distance between us disappeared almost without either of us deciding to move. His chest brushed mine, and my hands slid instinctively up his arms to keep him there.
Arthur exhaled slowly, his breath trembling over my lips. I leaned into him. His lips brushed my shoulder as he slid his hands over my back in reverent strokes. Everything in me felt wonderfully loose.
“You make me feel safe,” I said.
His hands stilled for a second, then he kissed the top of my head. “You don't even know what that does to me.”
He took the soap and worked it between his palms before sliding them over my shoulders, down my arms. He took his time, like this was something important, not something to rush. I did the same for him, smoothing my hands over his chest and across his back, feeling the strength there, the solidness of him.
His fingers moved up my spine and into my hair. He worked out the tight places in my neck and shoulders. Sighing, I closed my eyes and leaned into it, into him, into the way he took care of me without being asked.
My hands refused to stay in one place. Every time they settled somewhere, I wanted more. His shoulders. The warm line of his neck. The steady strength of his back beneath my palms.
Arthur reacted to every movement.
A shift of breath. A tightening of his grip. The quiet rumble in his chest when I pulled him closer again.
“You carry so much,” he said. “I wish I could take it all from you.”
I tipped my face up toward his, the water sliding between us, and for a moment it felt like the rest of the world wasvery far away.
He kissed me then. Soft at first. Slow. Asking instead of taking. I deepened the kiss, reveling in the gentle sureness of his mouth on mine. Every time he kissed me like that, it made my chest ache in a good way.
His fingers ghosted over the skin between my breasts, making me shiver.
“May I touch you?” he murmured.
“Yes,” I said. “Please.”
He cupped me, his thumbs brushed over my nipples. Gasping, I gripped his shoulders. He made a low sound like he was holding back.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said. “You are so beautiful. All of you.”
I looked up at him. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true,” he said as he slid one hand down my waist, my hips. He parted me with two fingers, finding how ready I was for him. “God, you’re so wet for me.”
I wrapped one leg around his hip as he slid a finger inside me, my entire body lighting up with desire.
“Arthur,” I said. “More.”
He added a second finger. I bit my lip, trying to keep quiet. His hand moved with purpose now, but he never stopped watching my face.
“You’re perfect,” he said. “Every sound you make. Every way you move.”
I reached for him, wrapping my hand around his hard length. He sucked in hard and his hips jerked.
