This one was written for anon, who requested number 14 and Ladynoir.
14: A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.
Home
The moon is veiled, turning everything to shadow. No stars, no light. Even his cat-green eyes have been swallowed in black. But his hand finds hers, warm through the suit. Always a guiding touch in the dark.
"My lady."
It sounds like a plea. Aching, yearning. It whispers to her blood.
Her heart thuds and thuds. The heat of his body is an invisible caress, so close it sends shivers along her skin. So close she can almost taste his scent—musk and soap and something uniquely him. His breath touches her lips. Delicate. Teasing. She sways like a dandelion on the wind, ever getting closer.
Anticipating what she has denied for so long.
"May I?" he breathes.
"Yes."
Their lips collide. It's fire and silk and a silent cry of more, more, more. She wraps her arms around him, moulding herself to his frame like moss trying to make a home. He welcomes her in. Welcomes her so deep that maybe he's the one trying to make a home out of her. She doesn't know or care. What matters is the feel of his body pressed to hers, the thudding drum of his heart. The taste of him.
She drags her fingers through his hair, down the leather of his suit. Lips bruise. Tongues speak in silent language. He steals her breath and gives it back to her with every kiss, every shared sigh of finally and please don't stop.
Makes her blood spark in stars and thunder.
They part, foreheads touching, panting for breath. His hold loosens and she lets her hands rest on his chest. Even now, he's a warm, steadying presence when all she sees is shadow.
"I love you," he whispers.
Her heart stumbles, shy and clumsy. She has never been able to return those words. Not to him. But now she can't hide from her heart. Doesn't even want to.
"I love you too."