A/N: I can't tell you how many damn times I edited this oneshot. Actually, I have gone through so many different versions, so many bits and pieces I've built up that will eventually make their way into a multi-chap, if I can make a head or tails of them.

This was a Seven Deadly Sins challenge at A Little Piece of Heaven- Natz's forum. I was assigned lust, and this is my first time writing smut, so don't hesitate to tell me if I am completely off the mark here.

Also, much love to Hannah, Queen of Cassie and a sexy beast, who helped me with a title and summary because I fail at life.

"It was a mistake," she said, her arms stiff at her sides, her visor titled towards the ground.

"I shouldn't have…we're friends…I was upset…it was wrong…I'm sorry, York."

She had reverted back to my codename, the way she did in public, around Wash. But last night she had called me Micah with lust in her voice- more than that. Love.

She was wearing her full armor, including her helmet, as if the titanium and steel would hide her. But I knew her better than that- I always had.

She and Wash may have been lovers, but we were friends- best friends. Even his jealousy couldn't stop that. Though I couldn't help but feel more; I always had, and perhaps I always would. She never knew how deep it went, beyond the usual teasing.

"I hate you, York. I hate you so much."

"I love you, too, South."

Sarcasm in my voice, a smirk on my lips, hoping it was enough to hide the way I felt- the only secret I kept from her. She knew exactly how to drive me crazy, make me angry, though I would forgive her after one of her "apologies"- I was rewarded with a cheeky grin and a wink, and I couldn't stop the feeling I would get in my chest, a pleasant sort of burn that made me want to wrap my arms around her and never let go.

But now she had hidden her expression, hidden her entire body, as if that would block herself from what she was feeling, what I could understand.

She had underestimated me, just as she had underestimated Wash and the others- her greatest weakness.

I could see her trembling, no matter how hard she tried to make it stop; the pain and regret and love in her voice when she addressed me.

I took a step closer to her and she pulled back, flinching as she did so. I knew why- I was a keeper of secrets that she had not even told Wash, despite the fact that they grew up together, in a world I could never be a part of.

Even last night, even with Wash, I had noticed that could never quite reconcile herself to being loved, still stuck in the mistaken belief that she didn't deserve it.

"Don't do this, York."

The words were rough and tattered, broken in pieces.

But my voice was steady, despite the chaos inside, "I'm not sorry. And I never will be."

---

The room I shared with Wash and Maine was silent now, empty and cold, in Wash's absence, despite our slightly strained relationship.

I could sense he had never fully gotten over his jealousy, and I hoped he would never know the feelings I kept to myself- though I could never be sure if he saw through me or not.

So I sat at only the desk in the room, tilting the chair back, only to be startled by a knock on the door; the sound of perfectly manicured nails- she may have rebelled against her upbringing, but old habits die hard, as I knew only too well.

Naturally, I had fallen over myself to get to the door, landing in an uncoordinated heap that would definitely bruise in the morning.

But, she was there, in an oversized t-shirt that said, 'Markham Prepatory', and plaid pajama bottoms.

Not something one would normally consider sexy, but it made my heart pound, the blood rushing to my head at such a rapid pace I felt slightly dizzy.

Despite the baggy clothes, I could see her curves, the rise and fall of her chest as she moved, a bright pink bra strap and the slightest hint of her shoulder if she moved a certain way, and I imagined kissing her there, down her neck, past her collarbone to…I shook my head. It wasn't the right time; it never would be.

Her eyes spoke to that- red and puffy, bloodshot and large with unshed tears. And once again I felt a rush of anger, a tightening of my chest and the muscles in my arms; a deep, ugly urge to beat him into a pulp for hurting her this way.

I did not have to speak; she fell into my arms the way she had so many nights previous, sobbing so hard that her body shook, her whole heart, fears, thoughts poured into those tears.

And though I dare not show it, my own heart wept, too.

It took a few hours before she had managed to talk- this, too, occurred far too often for my liking, and I knew I would kill him if I saw him again.

But then the words dried up, too, spilled onto the table and crumbling to dust. She moved closer to me, too close, a light in her blue eyes I had never seen before.

Leaning up against me, she murmured, "I love you, Micah."

I knew right then and there I could no longer stop myself, feeling her body so close to mine, both of our hearts throbbing with lust.

My mind was filled with a million questions, thoughts, images, and…the faint curl of fear, the doubt I had convinced myself to believe running out of control.

I took a deep breath, willing it to shut the fuck up, before leaning in to kiss her, a kiss that she eagerly responded to.

"I love you, too," I managed to breathe in between kisses which grew more torrid in nature.

Now it was pure lust that was driving us as we made our way to the bed- with rapid speed I managed to lose my shirt, and it wasn't long before she had lost hers, showering kisses down her neck, her breasts, though I managed to lose myself in trying to unhook her bra, and she smiled.

"Has it really been that long, Micah?" She asked, her voice light.

"N-no…" I replied, though we both knew that was a goddamn lie.

She climbed on top of me, as the military issue bed (never comfortable to begin with) began to groan in protest.

She never fully lost control of herself, always on her guard, a distance I could grasp, but never fully. One part good breeding, the other part…something else.

That certainly didn't stop her as she removed my pants, and I did the same for her, hardly able to fully believe what I was seeing.

She was everything I had imagined she would be- more than that. I could never fully picture the heat from her skin, the sensation of her nails running up and down my abs, that laugh as she noticed my reaction, well aware that she had me at her control, and milking it for all it was worth.

Still, I wouldn't let her completely take over, as I lightly ran my fingers over the edge of her underwear, watching as she gave herself over to the feeling, lust pulling her in, as she leaned in once more for a kiss that brought the heat from my face all the way down to my toes.

And just like that, our discretion slipped away as easily as she lost her underwear, being together the way we were always meant to.

"I love you," I whispered in her ear when we were finished, nuzzling herself in the crook of my arm, giving into sleep just as easily as we had given into the lust that beat with each rhythm of our hearts.

----

"Please…" She said, "It's easier this way, York. We both know that. I can't…I can't…feel…"

"But you do," I replied.

"I shouldn't."

I moved next to her, and she pulled a step back, a waltz that neither of us wanted to dance.

"You can't help how you feel," I said, "We both know that."

"I should be able to."

"Bullshit."

"But…I don't want it to stop," she admitted, hanging her head.

"Look at me, please."

She did so, removing her helmet, her hair falling into a tangled mess over her shoulders.

"It was a mistake," she repeated, but the words faltered, slipping through the cracks.

"A beautiful mistake." I pulled her into my arms, brushing her hair back before kissing her.

And once again, the desire came back, a never ending cycle of throbbing hearts, lust and love.

"Yes," she said, "A beautiful mistake."