For the PWKM, prompt: Phoenix/Iris, post 3-5. They have quick, desperate, passionate, "we have to get this out of our system" sex before going their separate ways.
Her shoulders hit the wall of the hallway with a thud that echoed through the empty office, a clatter following not a second later as a picture frame fell to the floor. Iris did not care, did not hesitate for a moment, one of her hands circling Phoenix's bicep, the other sliding up his shoulder to the back of his neck, pulling him further in. Hands clutching at her back, Phoenix groaned into her mouth, scraped his teeth against her bottom lip none too gently as he pressed himself against her.
Only this afternoon had she been declared not guilty of murder, only a few minutes after her own trial had she been arrested for charges of aiding and abetting a known criminal. Only this evening had she called him from the detention center, explaining that they considered her not to be a flight risk before her next trial tomorrow, that she did not have to stay there, but that she had no place to go.
He'd barely spoken to her these past few days about anything other than the trial, and on the way back to his apartment, found that there was suddenly too much to say. How did one even begin to cross the vast gulf that lay between them, the years of silence, the lies of before? They were on the stairs to his building before either of them managed to say anything besides Iris's quiet, "Thank you," outside the Detention Center.
There were only two steps to the final landing. Iris had already reached the top, but when Phoenix paused on the lower step, he realized that they were suddenly the same height. Turning to see why he'd stopped, purple robes and dark hair swirling, Iris locked eyes with him, and in that instant, his voice seemed to act of its own will, "It was you. All that time… I wasn't wrong. It was you."
"No," she agreed softly. "You weren't."
His throat had gone dry. He swallowed desperately, licked his lips, and took another step up the staircase. Iris didn't back away, standing firmly at the landing, only her chin tipping back to keep their eye contact. She looked like a strong breeze would blow her over, but there was something fiery in her eyes, something wanting and determined. He lifted his hand slowly to her face, reaching to take a lock of her dark hair in his fingers, rubbing the silky length of her hair as she closed her eyes, leaning just-so into the touch until the edges of his knuckles just barely brushed her cheek. She closed her eyes, and suddenly he was leaning forward, kissing her.
Then Phoenix was fumbling for the keys, unwilling to take his lips off of hers for even a second as he unlocked the door, the two of them stumbling into the dark hallway. He shoved her against the wall, not bothering to spare even a second to flip the lights on, angling his head down to kiss her again, hard, as if he could breach the gap of half a decade with the movement of his lips on hers. His hands slid from her wrists to her forearms, past the angle of her elbows and up to her shoulders, then down over the slope of her spine to the small of her back, pulling until she arched into him. Iris gasped, the soft sound almost entirely muffled, and it sparked a memory in him of another moment like this one, the vision so strong he almost gasped in return. This time he went to kiss her jaw, then further down, the soft skin of her neck, the hollow at the base of her throat, then along her shoulder, biting oh so gently at the junction of shoulder and neck… she let out a little moan, like he remembered, and something in him ached so fiercely he thought he might sob.
She was not motionless in this moment, her hands pressing him to her even as her body pushed up against his. One of her arms had wrapped around his side, her hand firm on his back. Her other still cradled the nape of his neck, fingers brushing the soft, downy hairs. When he paused in his kisses along her shoulders, drawing back, she brought her hands around to take hold of his red tie, undoing the knot by feel and then tugging him down to plant a kiss in the hollow of his throat.
Phoenix groaned at the whisper soft sensation of the silk tie slipping off of him, her delicate fingers unbuttoning his suit jacket then moving to his shirt. Reluctantly he removed his hands from her, only to rip his jacket off and drop it somewhere on the floor behind him. He had no idea how much time might have passed since they'd walked in the door, only that they had yet to move out of the hallway and the door was still open, forgotten in their haste.
He closed the door with a sheepish click, turning to find that Iris had taken the opportunity to remove her shoes. As if reminded of the propriety of things, he removed his shoes as well. But this was not the time for niceties, for cups of tea and careful reminiscences.
His hand was on her wrist again; grip firm but not tight as he tugged her into the apartment, past the small living room and guest bedroom, down the hall to where his bedroom door stood ajar. He spared a quick thought to be grateful that Maya and Pearl had returned to Kurain, but the thought was gone in the next instant as they stepped through the door, Iris closing it behind her. The dark of the bedroom was no different than that of the hallway, but suddenly it seemed to press in on them. Phoenix groped along the wall for the switch, hand sliding down from Iris's wrist to her own hand, where her fingers interlocked with his.
The lamp in the corner went on with a small pop, bathing the room in a dim golden glow. He turned back to her, their hands the only bridge between them now. She bit her lip, looking into his eyes, but said nothing. He had no words. What could be said now?
In silent agreement, they began to remove their clothes. Phoenix finished the work she had begun on his shirt, unbuttoning and shrugging off the garment, enjoying the way Iris's dark eyes fixated on his chest. Though he went to undo his belt, and then the button and zip of his trousers, his own eyes were locked on her. With practiced gestures, she undid the obi and outer wrappings of her acolyte's robes. Soon, they both stood naked before each other, not for the first time, but for the last.
"Iris," Phoenix tried out the word, and had to stop. His mouth had gone utterly dry.
"Feenie," she replied, but there were none of the coy gestures, shy turnings away that had marked their relationship. She stood there, lips parted invitingly, and then she held out her hand.
"Iris!" he gasped as if it wounded him—maybe it did—reaching out to take her hand, tugging her toward the bed. She sank onto the navy blue duvet, beckoning for him to join her. He didn't hesitate, crawling over her, one knee between her thighs as he leaned forward and captured her lips in another kiss.
He didn't love her. It had been too many years, too much time and pain and recrimination. He couldn't love her, this woman who had betrayed him so deeply, who had made him question everything he'd known about himself and who he chose to care for. She had made him doubt not only her, but himself. He couldn't forgive her for that, for all she'd been pure of intention.
His mouth closed around one of her small, pert nipples. She moaned, hands clutching at his head, fingers combing through his hair as she tugged him closer. He switched to her other breast, leaning entirely on one forearm as he reached down to grasp her hip, settle her firmly against his thigh. With a jerking motion Iris rubbed herself up against him, moaning again as he bit down on her breast.
When his fingers finally traced down to the cleft of her thighs, he nearly groaned to feel how wet she was. He rubbed between her folds, brushing in all the right spots, a far cry from the nervous, eager, clumsy lover he'd been once but he couldn't think about that now. Iris tipped her head back as she arched, gasping, begging for him to please, please, please…
Finally, she reached up for him, catching his shoulders and pulling him down to her once more. She spread her legs wide for him, cradling his hips in her soft thighs. He couldn't let himself love her, seeing her stretched before him, beautiful and wanting. They were too different now. Yet, when he thrust into her, she let out that same desperate moan he remembered, and he had to close his eyes and lose himself in the sensation of her warmth and wetness.
This was no lovemaking like they'd had in the dorms of Ivy University, indolent and playful and innocent, the product of two unbroken hearts with a lifetime ahead of them. This was something deeper, something far more raw. His heart felt like a glass shard in his chest, fragile and wounded, wounding. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, but she begged him not to stop, to keep going, please Feenie… He fucked her, hands gripping her hips so tight she would have bruises come morning. Her nails scratched at his arms, his shoulders, his chest, his back, but they were nothing compared to the marks she'd left on his soul all those years ago.
She came with a cry; he followed soon after. They lay there in his bed, sweat evaporating off their skin, each hyperaware of the other. Phoenix watched the way her breasts heaved as she caught her breath. Iris watched the slow play of the muscles under his skin as he stretched. Their eyes met, and when they kissed this time it was tender.
She fell asleep beside him, and as Phoenix looked her over one last time before he switched off the light, he both exulted and despaired in the knowledge that he had been right. His eyes burned with unshed tears. All this time, it had been Iris. Yet, as he looked at her peacefully sleeping, curled up under his duvet, he was somehow struck by the certainty that this was the last time he would ever see her.
He couldn't forgive her, and he couldn't love her, but damn if his heart didn't ache when he woke the next morning to find her gone.