When she kissed him the first time, he had no deep and meaningful reason for kissing her back. He did it because her eyes were impossibly green and her legs were impossibly long, and because far too much time had passed since he'd truly, intimately touched another person for reasons other than violence.
His hands were clenched into fists even then, even as she stood close enough to shield him from the constant threat all around them, and folded her strong hands around the back of his neck. She was soft, and warmer than anyone he'd ever felt, inhumanly warm, a fever of a woman. Maybe he could forget the anger inside for as long as she cradled him in her summery embrace. At some point he uncurled his fingers, reminding himself that everything was still and quiet for now, and he touched her instead.
Would it be overstepping to peel her out of that shiny purple dress? To unzip her staggering velvet boots and unsheathe those endless legs? It seemed too fast. They'd only really known each other a few days, but they'd been intense, life or death sort of days. They'd bonded whether they'd wanted to or not, and although he knew so little of her past or even her present, it didn't matter. He saw things in her that made him calm; the way she loved Rachel without understanding why, the way she seemed intent on protecting him, not his body, but something inside that had been broken too many times to set right again. And maybe now he was kissing her back on a basis beyond just attraction.
It was gratitude, relief at the break in the chaos, and wonder at how she stayed, like the memories she lost didn't matter nearly as much as the ones she created every minute. As often as he wished he could forget his whole life, he knew the forgetting would drive him crazier than he already was. How could she manage it?
He pulled away for a moment to take in a breath. He was now hyperaware of the fact that he was naked from the waist up, and she was touching his skin the way he wanted to be touching hers.
The light in the room was perfect for everything he thought of doing to her. It was bright enough to make out the beautiful curves of her body, but dim enough to fall asleep in her arms. He shouldn't have wanted her that way, as recently as two days ago he wasn't sure if he even liked her at all. She'd forced herself into his life so brazenly that he'd had no choice but to let it happen, and giving up control was quite possibly his least favorite thing.
But she was there, and she was gorgeous and he wanted this and her and all of it, even if everything would be different in the morning.
"Come over here with me" she said. Her voice was the cutest thing, and it made him smile against his will as they backed up toward the bed, his hand held gently in hers.
When they were at the foot of it, she took his pants down without a whisper of protest from him, then she proceeded to reach for the zipper in back of that purple dress. It barely covered her as it was, especially with its irresistible five inch slit climbing up her dark brown thigh. He was already hard seeing even that much of her, he swallowed deep and braced himself for the rest.
This was happening, and at the moment he couldn't think of a single reason that it shouldn't. She shrugged the thick straps off of her graceful shoulders and in the next second the dress came down. Almost immediately after, her lacy underwear followed.
He didn't lower her onto the bed as much as she pulled him with her to crash backward into the pillows, bouncing almost playfully.
Once they were still again, he hovered over her to get another good look at her face. It was one of the best faces he'd ever seen, every second looking at it held a surprise.
He kissed her first that time, the sort of deep, sinking kiss that could never seem to go on long enough. Her lips were soft but strong at once, much like the rest of her. He slid his tongue into her mouth and she met it with hers and they kissed for as long as they could until they both need something more.
He couldn't walk away that time. They shared a purpose bigger than both of them. It was almost comforting, knowing that there was so little room to fuck things up.
His lips explored the relentless heat of her mouth and neck and upper body, while her hands glided over his back, a valley of taut muscle and battle scars he lost count of years ago. If only she could know everything he had done, everything that had been done to him. Would she stay then? Somehow he knew that she would.
He sat up to find the zipper on her boots. It would be sexy to leave them on, he thought, but he wanted to see every inch of her. Once he got them off and tossed them to the floor with a thud, he collapsed onto her again. At some point they became so lost in their frenzy of caressing fingers, devouring mouths and tangled limbs, that once the fog cleared in his mind he found her on top of him, giving him full view of her body. She was as dark as a stormy sea and as smooth as honey.
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he asked. He didn't say things like that, even when he thought them. Saying romantic things opened a person up, and he liked closing himself off. But in that moment, for no reason at all, he needed to say it.
She giggled, and bent down to kiss him again. "Yes," she said honestly. "But I still like hearing you say it."
So he said it again "You're beautiful Kory."
As if she knew he couldn't take it much longer, she rose up onto her knees, then sank back down onto him. And she was so hot inside, like there was a fire in her. It should have hurt but it didn't, it felt safe and right like nothing had felt in so long
She threaded her fingers through his and started to move, tossing her wild magenta curls and writhing her flawless body on top of him. And he wouldn't think about tomorrow, and all of the ways it could go wrong just because of who he was and how normal it felt to hurt people. He couldn't hurt her because she'd never let him get away with it. The thought of that allowed him to breathe, and be there in that perfect, stolen moment with her.
Maybe he wasn't so broken after all.
