Disclaimer: I don't own Baccano.
Claire's fingers wrapped behind Chane's neck, so he could tilt her head up to meet his. He generally thought of himself as a very patient man, especially when concerning his beloved, but right now his own eagerness ruined whatever iota of self-control he liked to think he had. Chane was small and soft against his frame. A bit cooler than he imagined she'd be, but a comfortable fit nevertheless. The entire situation reminded him of that warm feeling he had whenever one of his limbs slipped from out of the covers in the middle of the night. He was simply bringing it back in to warm it up.
Without preamble, he drew her towards him.
Closer.
Not enough.
Closer.
But before he could bring her all the way, and before the nigh instantaneous decisiveness his profession demanded from him reared its head, Chane launched forward, clearly tired of his pace. It was so surprising the way she just moved—against him; against his expectations. Without even thinking about it, she once again cemented the fact that she was alive and real. More than that, she was here with him now. Chane wasn't just another figment that his overactive imagination conjured to keep him company in this majestic world of his. She was an anomaly. One that he wanted to keep by his side long after the rest of the world turned to dust along with him.
Chane crushed herself to him, and he shuddered from the force. Claire shivered from the foreign touch of lips against his own, but all coherent thought was lost as soon as she moved. Careful at first, despite her initial enthusiasm. The kiss was chaste, cautious, and tenderer than anything he'd ever known.
But then the moment passed, and when her shoulders eased and he mastered himself enough to return her soft press of lips, the rest of the world turned to dust. In that one instant of fervent desperation, passion and fire coiled together in his stomach. Claire matched everything she bared before him, then upped it tenfold. She shrunk back in the face of his ardor. Startled, yet pleased. Ignorant to how simple it was for him to up the ante. He'd loved her for so long, and now finally being able to express it only made him press harder against her. He'd wanted this too much to show restraint now.
No matter how close Chane got, it wasn't enough. It would never be. The pragmatic part of him leashed his own greed, before it grew into something unreasonable. Something that she might not be prepared to face just yet. But not two minutes in, and he was already failing miserably. Because he knew—knew—that if given the privilege, he could be blessed with a lifetime of gasping breaths, scant space, and heated exchanges, and it still wouldn't be enough.
He'd seen hate enough times to see how it changed a man. But he'd seen love do it, too. And when Chane's fingers twitched from where they rested over his chest, it was, indeed, love that spread through him.
Love, Claire thought, as he hauled her up. It was such an odd thing. Those four letters held so much weight in them. They turned his entire world broad and small all at once. It felt like the sun had been fitted all into a single person to shower her in brilliance.
Claire leashed himself to her, but he wasn't bothered in the least—something he didn't think possible. His chest expanded with heat at the mere mention of her name. Just the thought of seeing her put him on edge in a way all of those other women he'd met and proposed to never had. She became a solid pillar in his world. A weakness and a strength. She made him want to come home to their small New York townhouse after a job. And whenever she was injured, the fuzzy feeling in his chest would swiftly turn into black-bottled rage that demanded retribution against her attackers.
"Chane," he whispered against her lips. As much for a distraction as the need to say it.
He watched as she opened her eyes half-mast, before smiling at him. Her cheeks were red. Claire gave her a grin reserved only for her and observed the red stain move all the way up to her ears. Distantly, he noticed that she was wearing the fitted black dress that he'd gifted her three months ago. She wore it often. He made a mental note to get more in a similar style, before meeting her eyes and returning to the moment with her.
Chane's gaze invited him closer. When all he did was continue staring, her hands tugged at the lapels of his overcoat and she did it herself.
Claire gathered her in his arms. His head fell to her neck, where he inhaled deeply, before inching backwards until they both fell onto the bed in a mess of breathless pants and intertwined limbs. Chane sighed into his mouth, and he pulled her closer. Claire swallowed every sudden inhale, memorized every drag of her fingers across his skin. He stored up the moments like a man turning for one last glimpse at the sea.
When she pulled away to breathe, he chased her, appalled by his own desire. He could bear it, he thought, if the world diminished to only this. Because Claire knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he'd be perfectly content to live the rest of his life in the spaces between these soft, measured breaths.
It was at that exact moment that he felt it. A thin chain being forged between them. Shining, twisted links of metaphysical iron and gold that bound him to her in something deeper than either of them knew. His chest burned. Not with pain, but with desire. With the need to never be so far from her that she was out of his sight ever again.
Claire pulled away just long enough to take in her half-lidded gaze and red cheeks. His own face burned brilliantly at the sight. He felt the heat spread all the way down to his neck, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.
The only thing that mattered now were his emotions, and how they swelled as proudly as a hawk unfurling its wings after an age of captivity, as profoundly as sunlight dribbling over a man that had been buried too long.
Bright...
She was so bright.
And he needed more.
A/N: Just some random bunny I needed released from my cage of a mind. Please Review.