She watched the moonstruck ceiling of the cave, curved and melded into shapes that were long unchanged, weathered by age and pressure. Her breathing was sharp and strained, but such a disposition could not be blamed on the mustiness of her surroundings.
She turned to her side on the bed, staring down at the length of pillow to the edge. It seemed much too big; too overwhelming for one little person. She attempted to sprawl out, but even as she did, her tiny limbs failed to make her feel any more at ease. The knowledge that she had slept days and days alone on a bed just this size seemed to be an insignificant fact; the simple truth was that, at this moment, in this second of time, the bed was simply too large for one.
Her eyes flickered to the door at the sudden sound of movement. The light cast a shadow on the looming figure of Ian, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on her. She'd seen the look in his eyes before; his iris had gone a shade darker than usual; piercing, flooded with unmasked desire. Her heart started thumping a beat too fast, but she ignored it, her face painted with an expression she was sure matched his own. He stepped towards her, silent.
She opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it. Her brain seemed to be working much too fast; her head spun, and every action she tried to complete failed. She simply lay on the bed, only moving her eyes to match his movements. His profile was visible to her now, as he started to undress slowly. His shirt came off with ease, his muscles tensing with the actions of doing so. She could see the contours of his face change as he dropped the shirt tentatively beside him. He kicked off his shoes, and turned to her, exposing his chest and stomach for the first time.
He had definition; his abdomen shaped and firm from dutiful work in the caves. His arm muscles pulsed as she looked at him, her eyes not missing a single part. His ever-growing hair had fallen in front of his eyes, and he looked up at her from underneath, waiting.
"You're beautiful," she said softly, her voice sounding oddly distant.
He smiled half-heartedly. "I think that's what I'm supposed to say."
She bit her lip, moving up to a sitting position.
He moved towards her slowly, as though trying to not make any sudden movements. He sat down on the bed tentatively, his hand finding hers on the bed.
She stared down at their encased hands for a moment, before pulling hers away. "I've never done this before."
He looked her in the eye, his expression full of absolve and sincerity. "Wanda..."
She silenced him as she carefully peeled off her battered t-shirt, throwing it to the side quickly after.
"Come here," she breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from him; everything else seemed to fade to darkness.
He obeyed. His lips met hers with unrestrained passion, his hands curved around her neck as he pulled her ever closer. She tugged at his hair, her insides burning with desire. Her blood seemed to flow like fire through her veins with every heated touch, like a match to her skin, igniting senses she never knew existed. She was one with the feelings that had been so confused, so tucked away, in her other body.
His mouth begged for more and more – she didn't know what else to give him, but someone she found it inside herself. Her body didn't seem to be her own anymore; she melted away into the moment and into him. All his searing desires translated into a language only their combined physical being could understand. His tongue moved faster and farther in her mouth, she stopped trying to breath, and put more strength in her response. All she could feel was pleasure; collecting in a growing pool in her chest.
"More, more," she whispered, unsure of what exactly she was begging for – she was sure he would understand, somehow.
His hands lowered from her neck, falling over her chest. Her back was arched as he moved over her breasts, caressing each with tenderness. The breathing she thought had long dissipated suddenly hitched, and she clenched her hands into fists in his hair. He kept moving down with his hand, his mouth still fierce on hers.
She drew away for a moment, her eyes shining bright in the dim light.
He met her gaze. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No," she spoke quietly. "Keep going."
She watched his hands as they moved, his mouth now following with a trail of kisses. He undid her jeans, and slid them off easily. She felt flushed and embarrassed with her white, thin legs out in the open, and her ratty underwear on display, but the thought of stopping didn't occur to her.
"Are you sure?" he whispered, his head balanced on her hip, his body held awkwardly, tense and awaiting her answer.
She bent low, her lips right beside his ear. "I'm positive."
Something like a growl sounded from the back of his throat, and he pushed her back against the bed, his hands fiercely removing her last layer.
For the rest of the night, she had to turn into the pillow beside her to muffle her screams.
That had defied all her already skyrocketed expectations of this mad world.