The lights of the city dimly lit the small room through the curtain hanging across the window. It was especially dark that night; thunder rumbled occasionally and the patter of rain beating at the windows echoed through the apartment. But Michael paid little attention to the remarkable darkness or the thunderstorm outside the walls of his high-rise. In fact, he couldn't care less if it was raining or snowing or if the building was on fire, as long as she was here with him.
His lips traveled across her shoulder, a trail of moisture up to the base of her neck. Her hands were on his back and she clung to him tightly, almost desperately, arching her back into his body. Her fingers then moved from his back into his slightly lengthening curls, and he brought his head from her neck to look at her before pressing his lips against hers. His body movements synchronized with hers, he continued assaulting her mouth, her response equal in fervor. Only when one of them remembered air was important did they part.
But their bodies continued to move against each other, each struggling for power and control, neither succeeding. Little time was left for breathing, but it didn't matter much, because it felt like every breath of oxygen in the room had disappeared, only to be replaced with lust and heat, maybe even a little pain.
Her mouth against his neck muffled her cry as her muscles contracted around him and he finally completed her. He followed, and the world spun and crashed in that instant of perfect connection, and it was one of those moments he wished would never stop.
But no amount of wishing could help him now, and eventually the world stopped spinning and his eyes began to focus again. He looked at her, only to find her eyes staring up into his, and he felt his heart stop. Their breathing slowed, and his eyes looked into hers for a long time before he finally broke their gaze and placed a lingering kiss on her lips.
Finally her eyes closed against the world as she fell asleep, her head resting against his ink-covered chest. Careful not to disturb her sleeping figure, he moved his arm out from underneath her body and slid from the sheets. He pulled on his boxers that had been thrown clumsily to the floor and walked toward the window. Pulling back the curtain, he looked out over the brightly lit city.
After what felt like hours, he turned back towards the bed, but stopped to look at Sara's sleeping form. His eyes traveled over every curve, over her smooth skin. Her auburn hair was spread over the pillow, his pillow, and he wished again that time would stop and he could stay like this, watching her sleep in his bed, forever. But at the same time, he was grateful his wishes weren't granted, because it hurt to look at her, just like it hurt to touch her tonight, because he knew that tonight wouldn't last forever no matter much he wanted it to. Morning would come, and she would be gone, and he couldn't calm the growing fear in his heart knowing that the woman he loved belonged to someone else.
He knelt next to the bed, reached out and gently stroked her cheek, and he felt his heart shatter at the thought of giving her back to the world. It hurt him. It hurt him so bad he could hardly stand it. But he knew it hurt her too, and for once there was nothing he could do to help her. For once, he didn't have an answer.
Michael carefully crawled back into bed. Sara snuggled against his warm body, and he smiled. He kissed the top of her head and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. He pushed away the pain that he felt, because he couldn't let it consume anymore of their precious time together. Sure, tomorrow would come and she would be gone and the emptiness would return. Tomorrow was a pain-promising future. But it wasn't tomorrow yet, and Michael banished the very thought from his mind, because right now it was tonight, and tonight, she belonged to him.