Tony held Michelle tightly to his chest, feeling her pant raggedly, her breasts rising and falling against him. He knew she wasn't holding him in return. Her arms were draped over him, but she hadn't done it purposely.

After a while he felt her stir slightly against him, felt her turn her face against his shoulder, as though confused. She had just had a harsh, jolting climax, and he had not. Nor was he making any attempt to. All he was doing was holding her fast against him, his face pressed up to the place between her neck and collarbone, breathing against her skin as though hoping to take some of her inside him alongside each gulp of air.

Michelle, now that she was without her need for him, was feeling mortified at her actions. She hadn't looked at Tony in weeks, and then she'd just initiated sex, rough, impersonal, selfish sex and she felt wildly embarrassed. To make matters worse, he was still hard inside her, but he acted as though it was over. This confused her slightly, and she felt obliged to continue. She wasn't quite sure what made her do it, but she began to move her hips again, feeling unable to leave him in the lurch, and, she admitted to herself, not quite wanting to either.

His hands suddenly dug into her hips, holding them still.

'Don't.'

She ceased her movements. The word had been angry and commanding, and she didn't dare look at him.

Tony loosened his grip on her, but only just. In a gentle, strangely fluid movement, he lifted them both from their mangled position and rearranged their bodies so that she was reclined along the length of the couch and he was nestled on top of her, his body still between her legs, resting up on his elbows to look at her, her hair spread out across the cushion beneath her head.

She looked confused, suspicious even, but didn't question it. Every part of their bodies were touching, his chest against her breasts, his legs entwined with hers, his face hovering only inches above her own.

He gazed at her, taking in her long eyelashes, her sweet little nose, her parted, rosy lips. He felt so worried about how she had just acted that he couldn't possibly let her continue once she'd found what she'd been looking for. He couldn't let her leave either. He knew she had done it out of need, out of a desperate desire for affection, and so he was going to deliver, whether she wanted tenderness or not. She'd started this, but he wanted to end it – his way. He was holding his wife, covering her body with his, needing to address her needs because he loved her and couldn't handle for her to be hurting. It ate him alive. She was his, and he'd be damned if he ignored his duty to care for her.

Her eyes were heavy, staring determinedly at his chest, or neck, somewhere below his eye line. He wanted her to look at him, but he knew he couldn't make it happen. Instead, he brought his hand to the side of her face, his fingers coasting very lightly against her cheek. She moved suddenly beneath him, trying to push him away from her so she could get up and leave him, but he refused to budge and just let her fight for a moment, assured she couldn't escape. He had her trapped under him - hell, he was still inside her - and there was nothing she could do to get away. She seemed to realise this at the same time Tony did, and, possibly in an attempt to salvage her pride, stopped struggling and laid still.

Tony shifted his weight gently, so that more of him was touching her. He lowered his face, the tip of his nose almost meeting hers, and his eyes, dark and weighed down with concern and longing, roamed her face. He exhaled, knowing she could feel his breath all over her skin. Then, very, very slowly, his hand went to her chin and held it lightly. He tilted her head, just a miniscule amount, up to his and he allowed his lips to reach hers. The kiss was soft, so soft he could barely feel it. Her lips didn't move, neither did his, but they were making feather light contact and that alone was enough.

Then, Tony parted his mouth. He very gently took her bottom lip between his and applied fractional pressure. He didn't draw it very far into his mouth, nor did he suck it or touch it with his tongue. He just held it in his lips, as though it was a little piece of candy he'd somehow won, something he wouldn't share with anyone.

He registered when she pulled away, moving just enough to take her bottom lip out from between his. She drew it into her own mouth and between her teeth, as though trying to keep it safe from him. Instead of fighting her for it, he titled her head again and placed a small kiss upon her cheek. Then one on the end of her nose, on her chin, on her jaw line, moving slowly, languorously, so that each kiss was wholly separate and distinct from the last.

Tony looked at her eyes to find them closed. He let out a soft, relieved sigh. He had been so scared by her actions that to now to feel her body relaxed beneath his, to see her face calm and beautiful, allowed him to breathe easily again.

He let his mouth brush against her temple, trying so hard to make her understand that he was there. That he loved her, that he had not forgotten her for a moment. He was trying to make her see, without words (because they never worked anyway) that she was still the centre of his life, intrinsically important to him, and he couldn't let her feel unloved for long without doing something about it. Their respective relationships with their son were important, but he wanted to bring to her attention to the fact that this all started with them. All the things pulling them apart existed only because they had once openly loved each other, because he couldn't stay away from her, couldn't do anything except honour the fact that she was the most important thing in his life. Nothing had changed since then, not for him at least.

He moved his other hand to her face, cupping her cheeks gently, brushing curls away from her ears and forehead, and he heard the smallest, quietest sigh leave her lips. His heart seemed to expand at this. He felt thrilled that he was doing something she enjoyed, delirious that he was making her feel something positive.

He dropped his head back to hers, and applied another delicate kiss to her closed lips. After a moment he became cognisant of the fact that she had kissed him back, just a little. He blinked down at her, and was delighted and surprised beyond all reason to find her warm, brown eyes gazing right back at him.

Suddenly, they were nipping at each other again and again, pulling away after each gentle graze of their mouths, tilting their heads to return to each other in another fleeting, simple, but incredibly affectionate nibble. They made hundreds of these little pecks, never really opening their mouths, never making it anything but warm and tender. At least, that was how it felt to Tony. He knew he could kiss her like this all night. He didn't want anything more, just the light pressure she was making against his lips with hers, just feeling the same things she was feeling, being in her embrace, feeling each inhale and exhale of breath. He just wanted to stay reclined against her, relaxed and warm, embracing and tasting her. It was more than he could ever hope for and made him feel complete in ways he hadn't since he'd woken up beside her for the last time six years ago. These mild kisses were entirely innocent, just little acts of awareness, just one another reaffirming that they were there together, with each other.

Tony was aware when her hands reached for his face as he slanted her head so he could make quick, grazing motions across her mouth with his. Her hands mirrored his own, cupping his jaw and his cheeks, holding them tenderly, and he allowed himself a small gasp of delight. One of his hands secured itself around hers, to ensure she didn't release his face anytime soon.

Michelle wasn't sure what had made her do it. She wasn't sure why she was joining Tony in this quaint, harmless little kissing session either. He'd just made her feel so good, so warm and significant and special after she'd heartlessly used him to make herself feel better, that she'd found herself responding against her wishes. And now they were both waist deep in the longest, most affectionate make out marathon they'd ever had.

She could still feel him inside her, semi hard, and though it was starting to become uncomfortable, she still felt horrible about what she'd done and how she'd acted. She raised her pelvis sightly, inviting him to finish what she'd started, asking him to try again with her. He searched her face for a moment, seeming hesitant, and then stopped her. He shook his head, telling her soundlessly not to move. Then, he planted another adoring kiss to her face, and, so very gently it startled her, took up a soft, controlled, unrushed pace. It was sensual, it was tired, it was so kind and caring and sweet that Michelle stared into his face, feeling floored. His hands were still cradling her cheeks and her neck, he was still grabbing adoringly at her mouth with his, and his body was loving hers, giving everything and taking nothing and it felt sublime. It felt beautiful. He was trying to convey what he wanted to her. That's why he'd asked her not to move. He wanted to show her how they were supposed to make love, wanted her to understand that what had happened before had upset him. It had felt perverse, it had felt terrible, but this…this felt right, and he wanted her to realise it for him. She did, and she made a soft, passionate whimper into his ear, and kissed his face as he did hers.

He moved amorously against her for a long time, each upstroke a thoughtful, reverent insertion of his body into hers, each extraction gentle, respectful, hungry but loving. A quiet worship of her, of them. After some time he returned his hand to her damp folds and did what he'd done before, caressing her nub leisurely with the pad of his thumb, coaxing her to come closer to the edge, to give herself over to their closeness. He seemed to time their orgasms perfectly, as though he couldn't help but do it, as though it was second nature. Hers was not the explosive, desperate experience it had been before. This was warm, and mellow and delicious. It stretched on and on, languid and deeply satisfying. It tingled in every part of her body, coating her in a blissful, sated heat, like being wrapped up in thick blankets on a cold night.

His was understated and slow, his body pouring serenely into hers for several moments, a content, muffled sigh leaving him. It was heady, rich and potent, but relaxing, as though he'd just lowered himself into a tepid bath. He rode it out, his hands reaching for hers of their own accord and holding them tight. He felt full, he felt whole, he felt like he'd reached a profound state of security, of comfort, of pleasure. He felt complete and so did she.

After a while she felt his fingers twist tamely in her hair, his breath coming out warmly against her chin, felt his mouth pull on her upper lip and gnaw tenderly upon it. It was so playful and loving that it tickled and she felt herself smiling. She couldn't help it. She was just smiling, and when he went to kiss her again, he found he couldn't. Her lips were stretched thin in a silly grin.

'Sweetheart,' he murmured huskily, sounding desperately overcome as he stared at her dazzling smile. 'Sweetheart, that's beautiful.'

It wasn't long, however, before she started crying. Tony had expected it, and he held her tight as sobs racked her body. She said nothing for a long time before -

'I just…' she murmured, 'I just miss you so much.'

Tony nodded into her temple, stroking her hair, letting her unleash her sorrow. It was an urgently sad moment between them, a moment of mutual grief.

'I miss you too. Christ, baby, I miss you every second.'

He let her cry, silent but steady tears, and played absently with her hair, not knowing how to comfort her, or himself.

'And…and I miss him.'

'I know you do, honey. I know. And he misses you. It's my fault. I'm fucking with what you both have. I…I know it's my fault.'

'No,' she told him, suppressing a sob. 'N-No, it's not.'

They simultaneously drew each other closer for a quick hug. Tony drew in the smell of her hair, and kissed her temple. He bundled her up in his arms and took her into her bedroom. He handed her the shirt she wore to bed, and she put it on, not even hiding herself from him when she finally removed her bra. They sat together on the edge of the bed for a moment.

'You alright?' he asked quietly.

She nodded, her eyes puffy, her face red. He brought her against him, and kissed her hair.

'Can I stay tonight?'

She shook her head.

'That's okay,' he said gently. He didn't even feel angry at her for turning him out. He could almost understand.

'I'll see you tomorrow?'

'Yeah,' she said, wiping away what seemed like the last tear. 'Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow.'

xx