The room, which Rory didn't quite recall from earlier, was painted in a light shade of mint green, the dense beige Moroccan trellis patterned carpet spread out almost over the entire bedroom. The white canopy bed, without the actual canopy, looked inviting, as Rory swallowed another involuntary yawn.
"Do you want me to go?" Logan asked hesitantly, after a moment of silence.
"No," Rory said, perhaps a little too urgently. When Logan was concerned she'd never wanted to stay separately from him, despite the circumstances. Him being around her, was like giving a heroin addict just a taste. It could never be just that. "But I could use a shower, I just need to wash the day off," she added, almost apologetically. "Do I still need to let people know I'm using the shower?" she asked practically, before stepping into the bathroom, recalling another one of the peculiarities of the old house.
"No, we've done a bit of renovation since. Added a few more showers even, it should be alright. So go ahead, shower," he advised, as he sat down on the edge of the bed, unsure what to do with himself.
Rory could sense his nervousness as well, but she stepped into the bathroom, and turned the shower, the steam beginning to fill the room. She undressed hastily, feeling the grime of the day on her skin. She avoided the mirror, the steam thankfully having fogged it, afraid that somehow looking at herself could make her contemplate things, but all she wanted to do, was not think right now. She closed her eyes, focusing on the way the hot water that poured off her body felt, not really bothering to wash, per se. Rory could feel the water unwinding her tense muscles, relaxing her. She must've forgotten herself for a moment, in some dream-like state, only to be jolted up by the sound of the creaky door. He wasn't leaving was he?
Rory pulled herself together, turning off the water and stepped out to dry herself off and wrapped the towel around her chest. The room, cold in contrast, was quiet, the double doors, leading to the next room, slightly ayar, allowing her to sigh in relief. The overhead light had been switched off, replaced by the low dimmed glow of the bedside lamp. Rory continued to dry off her hair with the second towel, until she heard the creek of the doors moving.
She turned to see Logan stepping close to her, wordlessly. He wanted to say something, but everything seemed so meaningless, so obvious, so repetitive. He was glad she was there, he was sorry for the whole situation, for the awkwardness, for having to part so soon again, for making her wait like this, even for not knowing what more to say. She'd known him long enough to read him well, making many of those words irrelevant. She could see his side in this, he was not the guy to take advantage of her, to tease her along, to play with her heart, to make her wait without the intention to follow through on his plans, all of them.
"Can we just ignore how weird this is, just for tonight? Can you make me forget?" Rory finally begged, feeling the shower and single glass of wine affecting her, perhaps even her judgement, a little, as she placed her arms around his neck. She'd been able to ignore the Odette-factor well enough for quite a while, and now at least some of those fears were dispersed. He loved her. And she loved him. Did the format really matter?
He'd dreamt of her for weeks on end, trying to remember the exact way her hair smelled, the way her skin tasted, the way the smoothness of her skin felt under his fingers. On some subconscious level he wondered whether he should hold off, ask her if she was sure, if she was okay to do this - mentally and physically, but the longing was too strong and she showed no signs of hesitation, the look in her eyes almost pleading for his touch.
His lips crashed into hers releasing any leftover tension that had lingered. She kissed him back feverishly, wanting to lose herself. Responding to the desperation in Rory's kiss he deepened the kiss further, her parting lips granting his tongue access. It took her just one smooth move, allowing her towel to drop to the floor with a quiet thump, making any remnants of hesitation disappear from his mind. He nuzzled into her neck, pulling her closer, her arms trying to cover all of her as if using his own body to protect her from the chilly room. His touch on her naked form fed her addiction, recalling the sensation so clearly, as if no time had passed. She inhaled him, feeling a sense of urgency to remove any clothing that still separated their bodies, all of them on him. His t-shirt flew across the room within seconds, followed by the jingle of his belt buckle and the sense of the cold metal against her skin briefly, freeing him from all of his bottom layers.
She backed up a few steps, moving onto the bed, pulling him along by his finger, seductively. He settled just above her, leaning onto his elbow, leaving a trail of kisses onto her hot, soft, skin, tender from the warmth of the shower, drinking up the few drops of water still on her. Her eyes searched for his, his eyes and lips paying attention to almost anything else. It was as if he was ashamed of himself, hiding. This was not the Logan she was used to seeing.
"Let me look in your eyes...Don't hide," she pleaded, placing her hands on the side of his face.
They rolled onto their sides, allowing her to slowly look at him. His light brown eyes looked sad, apologetic, full of desperation, and all she wanted was to erase those emotions. He closed his eyes as she kissed his forehead, temple and gently brushed her nose against his, and stroked his lips with hers again. It was as if an apology was accepted by this series of motions, Rory telling him it was okay.
He pushed up against her, her firm nipples tingling his chest. His palm felt the weight of her breast, the nipples soon stroking the insides of his fingers, one by one. She continued to kiss him as his hands travelled across her body again, remembering each curve, each small imperfection as a part of her perfection. He could sense her warmth radiating from her core, his arousal throbbed against her thighs, ever so close to it. The very thought of him inside her made her hips push it snugly between her thighs, as if to capture him. His presence was all the foreplay she needed that night, the anticipation, in its ever so slightly forbidden form, doing its job.
"Do you want me to…?" he asked, wondering if he should wear protection, hating to interrupt the flow. While they hadn't really discussed this, at that moment the question was just a formality, his way of checking where they stood.
She silently mouthed "no" and closed her eyes, not wanting to think of the odds. She just wanted to give up control, neither of them wanting to think of the potential consequences in that moment, wanting to ignore the circumstances.
Her lips instinctively found his neck, as his mouth rested close to her ear, his rapid breath making her tremble slightly. She raised her knee over his hip, inviting him. He stroked her with his tip a few times, as she looked at him in the eyes again, making sure she was ready, leaving little doubt in the fact. Her eyes closed again as he filled her, filling some of that emptiness she'd felt within along with it. Their bodies melted together, finding their perfect slow rhythm, erasing the ache he had felt. They moved in unison, the unrushed delves building up to a more urgent need. He felt powerless at the convulsions of her inner muscles as she came, a little sooner than he'd anticipated. The way her body trembled and her face blushed slightly as a result drove him over the edge as well seconds later. They stayed interlinked, him pulsating within her - panting, throbbing, belonging.
He was still panting heavily, when she pulled the blanket over the two of them before the freshness of the room cooled them down. Rory turned her back to him, snuggling her form into him, even placing his hand around her waist herself, as if wordlessly ordering him to hold her. He obliged without hesitation, feeling grateful for her decisiveness. Here, within his arms, basking in afterglow was exactly where she wanted to be, forgetting where she was otherwise, as she drifted off to sleep.