Thank you kindly for returning for chapter two. Tony's POV...
Her face in sleep wrings tears from angels. Its present perfection is too holy to taint so he sinks lower, whispering touches while watching her mouth curve in unconscious response. Perhaps she dreams of him. Lapping at her skin as though able to taste the answer, he needs her to wake soon lest he take without permission. His fingers drip purpose onto her canvas in every shade he possesses.
The sun stirs before she does, chasing the dark from his impatient path. Through a borrowed window in an impersonal room the light reaches across the bed to tangle in her hair. Teasing the tender spots, he notes that she has abandoned the world of dreams for a reality where addictive gasps are hindered by stubborn lips. Her closed eyes hide all he wants to see and this ignites the predator within him.
Her blindness is his weapon.
She is a sword of many edges, sharp sides ready to strike but not here. Here she is recast by his fire, melted down into base components and reshaped until she forfeits. He wants cooperation more than submission but her refusal to see him brings a resoluteness that will be their undoing. Because if she's envisioning someone else in this moment, he'll rip through their existence.
A breath drawn in anger and he's inside.
He uses her game against her, robbing her of control through the exertion of his. The sun blinks and turns away, condemning the intent of this deliberate claiming. But where she will not look she sends a word offering, pleadings punctuated by his name like the partaking of a sacrament. It is a sound of reverence that fuels his pace. Slender hands fasten to his back, as though preventing his penchant for escape.
Morning trumpets around them, guarding the treaty they are writing in sweat and promises. She's approaching the cliff and he begs to follow her down. And when she opens her eyes, he finally understands that she'd been using the other senses to learn him. She is unmasked and he is shattered.
Their implosion reduces doubt to cinders.
After, the atmosphere lifts and they are left holding on in zero gravity. He would renounce his soul to preserve this completeness. There is no letting go, only forging on under the weight of a lie he'd vowed to never live again. But the loss of truth has gained her and the trade has its merits.
Tugging on shielding fabric, he plunges the room into shadows again. No light is needed when the senses attest to her presence. Her eyes remain open, drinking in all that he willingly shows her while his hands piece her back together. They will leave this place separately, but determinedly whole.