He watched her form fall dark against the glow of white sheets beneath them, every dip and curve of her body shaded. With a single arm draped awkwardly atop her stomach, she tilted her head toward him expectantly. He wondered, briefly, when they had crossed the line.
A visible tremble from her set him in motion towards her, his frame casting one solid shadow upon her as he blocked out the faint light of the illuminated city.
Reaching her, he hovered only briefly before covering her entirely. His head fell to the dark spill of hair, free to indulge in the scent he had known for years, finally pressing his lips to her neck. Feeling her lungs fill with a gasp urged him to press against her harder. Her hands were now smoothing across his back, timid at first, yet steadily growing firmer. His let his mouth meander until he found her own.
It all had accelerated too fast, too soon.
It shouldn't have been happening like this, with fear and death nipping at their heels.
And he had intended to resist, hoped that she would stop it-this thing he spent so many nights longing for. Yet, he knew that whatever happened, he would never have the strength to bear it, whether he stopped now or faced her in the light of day. He would give in. He would stay.
And suddenly he was inside her, and all he could comprehend were her inarticulate moans, all lost on the ears of the universe.