This is based on the prompt 'Flesh', short and sweet, Ros/Lucas paring.
She ran her hands down his smooth back, feeling the old scar tissue, ink and skin melding into one as he arced above her. Their lips interlocked fiercely, as if they were trying to suck the life out each other before she let out a slight moan.
They liked to play rough, taking the pleasure with the pain, though neither had clear boundaries between the two.
She felt coarse stubble brush against her skin as she dug her fingernails into his skin, not quite drawing blood, though the tangible metallic taste lingered in her mouth from where she had bitten her lip earlier. She was sure he could taste it too.
Sweat beaded on the surface, red raw skin exposed, the scent of each other drove them on. It was animal attraction, pure and simple, but that was their problem.
Sometimes, Lucas would whisper to her in Russian, and she would reply in the same tongue. It helped them to distance each other from who they really were. For each night, when they finally collapsed side by side, battle scared and muscles aching, they no longer looked each other in the eye. They were afraid of what they might see. It was easier that way, if they didn't look past the flesh.
