It is when they're in bed, safe from prison and tired from the breakout that she first hears him whisper a prayer in Spanish reverently as his hands grazed over her skin, lips sampling the supple skin of her collarbone as they rocked into each other.
She hadn't realised how much she'd missed him, his warmth, his heat and everything that made Marcos himself until they'd both fell into bed, a heated mess of longing and desire reaching through their bones, hands scrambling for each other's clothes—and its not long before, they're pressed tightly against each other, skin to skin, sloppy kisses and breathy gasps of love and reverence escaping their lips.
It almost brings tears to Lorna's eyes, because Marcos was being so gentle and yet so possessive at the same time, his hands grazing the skin of her stomach fleetingly yet reverently, as though afraid yet excited to feel the life thrumming beneath her skin that she carried.
A more logical part of her would remind her to thank John and Sonia for keeping the rest of the Mutant Underground away from the vault they called home, allowing some privacy for the reunited couple to reaquaint themselves intimately with each other.
She gasps as he drives himself deep into her, stirring a cry that he covers sloppily with his lips, a naughty smile on his face as a flush decorates her cheeks, her mind realising that he'd drawn out that cry on purpose.
She intends to reprimand him for that, because they have young teenaged ears in the floors above them—but Marcos snaps his hips so sharply and perfectly in that moment that every coherent thought flees to the recesses of her mind and all Lorna could do was just to simply gasp as she fell apart in his arms, stars bursting beneath her eyeslids as she slid her hands over her his face to pull him closer to her, their sweat mingling as he breathed a raspy laugh.
"Hermosa." He rasps with a low groan, and she laces her fingers with his, her chest heavy with his weight.
"What does that mean?" She asks softly, drawing his attention from her breast, and his warm liquid eyes meet her own hazel ones with a blazing clash of fierce adoration and love.
"Beautiful." He whispers the meaning back to her with such love and adoration that she feels tears slip past and down her eyes. He watches in silence, before passing his lips over the scar she had gotten on her shoulder blades, whispering rolling words of beauty that filled her very soul.
His lips travel the path from the tips of her fingers to the base of her face, before stopping at her lips, his breath ghosting over hers like a gentlest whisper of the sweetest breath.
He smiles that familiar crookish smile at her that has her laughter bubbling in her chest, then takes her breath away with his next phrase, as he brings their hands together, lighted with the most beautiful light in the world, glowing and twining around their fingers—just like the red string of fate that brought them both together, twined too tightly to ever be separated.
Their eyes don't leave the beautiful lights even as he murmurs a soft word of reverence, and their fingers tightened around each others with the silent assurance to never let go.
Marcos brushes his thumbs across the planes of her cheek, brushing away the hot tears that had slid their way down it's path on her cheeks.
"See?" He whispers to her with such firm resolution and affirmation, and she sees them as he had always seen. "Magnifico."
Magnifico= Magnificent