Their first kiss tested the waters. Hesitant, nervous, chaste. Lips touched. Hands curled into fists. Not quite touching. He pulled away for a moment, and eyes locked. Looking now, he forgets his reservations. Dives in for a second-a sudden whirlpool of palpable need. Tugs at her top. Arms tangle, working simultaneously to strip off clothes. To bare skin. Reaches for her hips. Receives a countering push on his chest. Feet stumble backwards. Falls onto the couch. She climbs onto him. Straddles his lap, knees hugging his hips. He looks into her face, sees intent and desire. The need to forget. A chance for selfish gain, instead of loss. This is it. Her mouth on his neck-kissing, licking, sucking until blood gathers just beneath the surface of his skin. She kisses a wet line over his jaw, meets his mouth. He struggles to catch his breath. Fails, and pants against her mouth, her lips. Soft, smooth, no lipstick. Her lips curl, baring teeth that bite down on his lip and tug. Hard. It hurts. So good, good, good. Breath skips. He groans. Eyes squeeze closed. Kiss back, bite back, tug back. Presses his hands over her spine. Pulls her closer, against him. Trapped against the couch. Can't escape. Doesn't want to escape. Waited too long. Wanted it for too long.

Unfastens her bra. Slides the straps down her arms. Tosses it. Lands on the hearth. His mouth on her breast. Lips close around her nipple. Tip of his tongue flicks it. Hardens it. Teeth bite until she cries out, loud, and tugs fistfuls of his hair. He pulls away with a noisy suck. Body twitches at her touch. Fumbling with his belt. Unfastening. Not fast enough. Too slow. Zipper down. Jeans open. Lifts his hips. He's naked now. Glances at his thigh, her face, and finds it focused. Predatory. Opens his mouth for another kiss. Frantic, sloppy. Hurry. Oh, God, hurry. Fingers curl at the waist of her pants. Pushes them out of the way and down her legs. Hands on her skin. Gripping-squeezing-her hips. Surges up. His erection-painful, throbbing-rubs between her legs. Heat. Pushes hard, a strain on his leg, into more heat. Moisture, slippery-wet, and oh, God, he remembers the first time: leg shaking with the effort to gain leverage, to thrust into her, but failing; two hands pressing against his shoulders as she did all the work, because he couldn't handle it. Pain mingling with pleasure, but subsiding long enough to let him drown in the heat of her, bringing him to a trembling, rocky orgasm.

He drops his hand to himself, wanting the encore. Needing. Something familiar, real. A hand wraps around his wrist. He's confused. Peers up at her. Starts to speak, question. Lips close over his to muffle the sound. Slides his hands to her breasts. Squeezes, cups, pinches as they kiss. Her tongue slip-slides against his, deep in his mouth. Stealing his breath. He gasp-groans at the firm squeeze of her hand around his penis. Jerks his head to end the kiss. To breathe. Leans back to watch her take him inside of her. Slick, smooth heat around him. All around. Oh, fuck. Hands tighten around her waist. Too long. It's been too long. Too many fantasies. Too many prostitutes. Poor substitutes.

Hands slide past her hips, fingers spread over her ass to guide her. No remarks this time. Not now. Barely has the breath to groan, but one slips between a grunt and her name-the name he's always called her. Eyes follow the path of her hand down her own body. Over one breast, her stomach, between her legs. Head reels, heart pounds, as her middle finger rubs her clit. She moans in his ear. Lips brushing his earlobe, telling him yes. Yes, yes, yes. His name. He hears his name, deep and throaty. Not a reprimand, not a demand, a God damned plea. His whole body tightens, tingles. Ignores the pain. Lifts his hips and pushes up, off the couch. Deeper, deeper into her. Watches her face as she orgasms. Color rushes to her cheeks, features contort, eyes shut tightly, teeth clench around a long, thick groan. Fingernails scratch, dig into his shoulders. Into muscle. Palms smooth the red crescents in his skin as she drifts down, blissful, content. Somehow he caused it, drove her to an entirely different, new breaking point. New. Exhilarating. Fucking terrifying.

Waves of heat crest over his skin as his orgasm breaks. Body jerks, muscles tighten. Sparks of pleasure burst up his spine, down his legs. He throws his head back into the cushions. Feels her lips on his throat and groans toward the ceiling. Sweat beads on his overheated skin, and he's breathless, sagging into the couch. He winds his arms around her waist. Wedges his face between her neck and shoulder, and wants to ask her to stay. He's not sure how. He doesn't need to, he realizes, as she reaches for a blanket, covers them both, and fits her body against him. She's never run from him, and he's grateful. He doesn't-can't-think about consequences, about what she'll force him to face in the morning. He closes his eyes instead, kisses her, and breathes.