The First
DISCLAIMER: Don't own a thing.
The cabin is dark the whole time and his lips never leave hers, not once, like he's scared of what might escape them if he gives himself a chance to speak.
That doesn't surprise her. Anything she might see or hear when he lets control slip through his fingers would give her the means to hurt him, and he's not going to let that happen.
It's good, no surprise there– she's not his first, not his fifteenth either.
What surprises her is the unwilling tenderness, something almost reverent to his touch and his kisses.
She thought she was a game to him, a conquest, a relief of the boredom of being trapped on a dead piece of rock.
But there's more, and going by the way they're lying as far apart from each other as possible, pretending to be asleep, he knows that as well. He knows that she knows.
And it scares him as much as it scares her.
Because they can't risk caring for someone that way, not when there's a war going on, when she never knows when he'll just run away as he always threatens he will.
Not when they're so very different from each other.
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