"Between her legs quivers and moistens with longing
He enters her and they become one
Their bodies meld, their souls mesh,
She floats in ecstasy before waves of pleasure push and pull her back into her body
They both explode within, collapsing together, spent and unified."
"The Great, S1"
Catherine Rollins' Flat
Washington, D.C.
1015 hours, next morning
Sensing the night has waned, Catherine slowly becomes aware of the hustle and bustle of the street below. She yawns, pressing her eyelids together, trying to shut away the brightness of the sun seeping through the small holes in the blinds, otherwise plunging the room in shade. Stretching her legs towards the bottom of the bed, she smiles, feeling an incredible satisfaction in that action, before a slight pang of pain in her belly causes her to contract her abdominal muscles. Breath catching in her throat, it makes her grimace and lightly moan. Immediately, her mind starts working on overdrive to try to pinpoint the cause of the pain, but she can recall no recent injury or physical blow during her last mission in that particular area of her anatomy.
Suddenly, the events of the night before flood her mind and her first reaction is to spread a smile across her flushing cheeks and stretch her arms forward, mimicking her previous leg action. She knows that Steve is probably lying next to her, on the bed, and that he's also probably awake, since she was the one who needed the extra hours of sleep she probably took advantage of. Catherine tentatively extends her arm to the alarm clock, and it comes to life, softly playing a song that she immediately recognizes and associates with Hawai'i, every time she hears it - 'Taken', by Josh Tatofi. She's immediately transported to a lazy afternoon on Steve's private beach, listening to the shallow surf softly die on the shore and him next to her, contentedly sleeping, hand on her abdomen and a smile on his lips. Then, everything had seemed possible, even imagining a life together in paradise not a stretch of the imagination. But ultimately... because of her inability to stay put for long, or his inability to discuss feelings in general and both their futures in particular, the dream had died, shriveled up by the harsh reality of soldier's mentalities and a whole lot of insecurities.
Not wanting to entertain sad thoughts at this moment, endorphins still running though her body, her mind wanders back to the night before. Despite her anger, she has made peace with her decision to let herself go and enjoy her night of intense passion with Steve, the only man who's ever made her feel like this. 'Public service by the head of 5-0, no less', she thinks, lips curving upwards again. Slowly, Catherine blinks blearily, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles, and looks sideways, towards his side of the bed. She is not disappointed to find him propped up on his arm, looking at her sleeping form, albeit with a concerned expression on his face.
"Stop leering at me, Commander" She murmurs, huffing amusedly, loving the old monikers they used to share.
"I'm not leering, I'm just…" he hesitates, searching for the right word. "Committing you to memory. Fondly remembering."
"I'm surprised you're still here…" she smiles and closes her eyes, sighing contentedly.
"I can't tell, is that a good or a bad thing?" Steve asks, smiling ironically, eyes fixated on her lips and feeling an uncontrollable urge to kiss her. He wants to hear her answer, though, so he doesn't, instead running his hand up her thigh.
Catherine opens her eyes fully and bends her head sideways and backwards on the pillow, furrowing her brows and looking attentively at him. She sighs and raises her left hand, reaching for her hair and pulls it back from her face, trying to decide how to answer his question, slightly annoyed, not exactly sure what he's really asking.
"I thought I'd been pretty clear last night, you know... all three times. You haven't turned into one of those insecure little boys who have to hear how well they performed all the time, have you?"
"Uh, I believe you'll find that it was actually five times, young lady… wall, sofa, sofa, bed, bed," Steve says, smug look on his face, eyebrows up and down, enumerating with the fingers in his left hand.
"Wow, conceited much? And keeping score? I'd just about forgotten the wall… it hardly counts for me, you know?" Catherine says, dismissive, putting on a serious face but barely managing to control her laughter.
"Counts for me… can't help it if you forgot what counts as sex or not," he laughs, happy for their light banter. "But, huh… I'm happy to remind you, again." He throws her a sexy, irresistible smile as his hand glides further up on her thigh. She returns a look of warning.
"I can tell this whole counting thing is important, for you… what is it? Am I attacking your masculinity?"
Smiling, he reaches for her lips and kisses her, while keeping his hand on her thigh, remembering a favourite spot of hers.
"I think I'm going to remind you again just how threatened in my masculinity I really am."
Catherine moves her leg away from Steve's hand quickly, to tease him, but another shooting pain in her abdomen makes her suddenly hiss. The playful tone of their exchange is over.
"Cath, what's wrong? Any injury you didn't tell me about last night?" Steve says, eyes pleading, still calm, but worried.
"No, I'm fine," she replies looking him in the eye, so he can see she's not hiding anything from him. "It's just… it's fine, it's nothing," she dismisses his concern with a flick of the hand.
"Catherine." He gives her a warning look, tone now serious. "Please," he finishes, rubbing her shoulder with the hollow of his free hand, as though trying to coax her into to opening up.
"You broke me," she says jokingly, smiling, thinking back to the night before, happy.
"Huh?" he asks, looking intently at her, with concern.
"Nothing, just some discomfort, that's all," she knits her eyebrows together and shakes her head. But Steve can't let it go.
"Discomf… are you in pain?" he presses, now uncomfortable.
"Pfft, please, this is nothing, compared to most of the pain I've felt in my life," she huffs ironically.
"Wait a minute, but… why are you in pain?"
"You do remember what we did last night, right?" Catherine looks at him with a questioning look, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation has taken.
"Cath, I was extra careful not to hurt you in the places you're bruised or stitched..."
"Look, you didn't hurt me, I just needed to adjust, that's all..."
"Adjust to what?" Steve says, uncomprehending.
She sighs, really uncomfortable now. "You?"
"I don't get it, Cath. Please, come on," he replies, now frustrated at her sudden shyness. Totally out of place, after what they had done the night before, he thinks.
Catherine's slightly embarrassed. "Wow, men really are oblivious, huh? I can't believe I'm going to have to spell it out." He waits patiently for her explanation, not moving a muscle. She sighs, resigned. "Fine. I haven't had sex in a while. So I needed to take time to physically adjust to you. We weren't exactly slow or gentle, you know."
Suddenly, Steve opens his eyes wide. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. I was kind of rough with you, huh? Why didn't you tell me to take it easy, last night? If you were in pain, you should've told me… I guess I got carried away and forgot about your injuries, in the heat of the moment. I'm sorry," he says, pained expression on his face.
Sitting up, eyes scanning her, he slowly pulls the sheets back, as though she might have some injuries he, the Navy SEAL, her superior, could tend to. But Steve's not reasoning like that, at the moment. The woman he's finally allowed himself to admit to loving, last night - albeit to himself only - was in some degree of pain, and it was his fault.
"Steve, you didn't make any of my injuries worse, relax." And she looks sincere enough.
"OK, then… so what are you trying to tell me?" Confused, he tries to think back to the haze of the night before, ashamed of himself for possibly having hurt her, on top of her injuries. He comes up blank, remembering only how liberating and exhilarating it had felt to hold her in his arms and love her, after so long. Catherine lets him pursue his train of thought, amused, and waits for him to finish his 'inspection'. She pulls the sheets back up to her shoulders once he seems to be done, shivering, but not wanting to give out the impression that she's ashamed of her nudity in front of him. She then reaches for his hand and squeezes it, bringing his attention back to her.
"Hey, look at me. I'm not a porcelain doll, OK? What happened last night was on both of us, you didn't 'do it to me', we 'did it' to each other. We both wanted it, and it was fantastic," she says, winking playfully at him. "Stop worrying about that. If I had been in pain, believe me, you'd have known. But you know the kind of life I lead, so after going without for a while, it's natural for all this" – she motions in the direction of her abdomen – "to need to adjust. It's also biology. Nothing to worry or stress about, OK?" she looks pointedly at him, hoping they can change the subject, feeling slightly embarrassed. However honest she wants to be with him, there are limits to the necessity, she thinks.
"Cath, despite all that," he says, smiling too, "it's not normal for you to be in pain. We should've taken things slower. I'm sorry."
"Would you have been able to act differently, last night? Because I sure as hell doubt I would've. Besides, pain was the least of what I got, so…" she says, winking at him again, trying to lighten the mood and get him to relax at the prospect of having hurt her, however unwittingly.
"Whatever do you mean?" Steve throws her a naughty smile, lying back down and protectively covering her midsection with his arm.
"Well… we kind of lost control. I very much doubt that we would've been able to calm down, or take it easy…" Catherine explains, trying to share the burden of her pain. "Did you know that engaging in any sexual position other than missionary is illegal, here in D.C.?" she says, laughing, trying to lighten the mood of the conversation. She eyes him, but he seems absorbed in thought.
"How long?" he finally feels the need to ask.
She sighs, half expecting the question sooner or later. "You picked up on that, huh? Ever perceptive about the details, Steve McGarrett... Look, I don't think we've regained that level of intimacy, so it's not something I want to share with you. Suffice it to say, it's been a while, OK?"
"Wow..." And his smug smile speaks volumes.
"Oh, my God, Steve! Don't you dare be happy about it!"
"Can't help it, Cath." He turns serious, curiosity getting a hold of him. "What's 'a while'? Wait, have you not dated, all this time?"
"What if I haven't?" And she's getting defensive. It's her life, after all. She doesn't have to justify, to him or to anybody, who she sleeps with. Or doesn't.
"Catherine, please, can you give me a straight answer?"
"Steve, I left. Beyond that point, our fates diverged. We both moved on."
He snorts at the obvious bidirectional fallacy in her thought process. "Clearly, you didn't. But when you were last on the island, you told me you were dating..."
Catherine throws him a condescending look. "Really? What was I supposed to say?" She pulls on the sheets, uncomfortable with how much she's shared. Her eyes wander south on his body and land on his chest. Fond memories invade her and she smiles, more to herself than to him, reminiscing the happy times they used to share.
Not sure what's going through her mind, he decides to move away from their conversation at the time and opts for the teasing approach, smiling at her, returning the provocation. "Stop leering at me."
This time, her smile turns sweet. "You're one to talk…" But she's still lost in her memories, and her eyes keep going lower, distractedly, until she makes out a line, slightly darker than his skin tone, shinier, more or less visible, starting at the bottom of his sternum. As she starts to pay attention, scanning her brain for a previous reference to such a scar in such a location and not finding it, she gets increasingly more alarmed at being able to trace the line without interruption and it apparently never ending. She's staring, now, eyes wide, absorbed in thought, looking down towards his abdomen and veering left a few inches above his navel, where the scar disappears, headed for his back.
"It's called a Cherney incision."
Brought back to reality, her eyes dart up to meet his. There are unshed tears threatening to fall, and a big question in her face, but she's trying to be tough.
"What happened, Steve?"
He sighs, annoyed that she saw the scar now, or maybe annoyed that he always felt too proud to tell her he'd almost died. Or sorry that she apparently never happened to be in the States when his shooting had taken place, because it had made big news in the Military grapevine and he knows she still has ties to their former world. It tallies, though – he knows her work is mostly overseas, and imagines it probably entails months under cover, chasing after targets and terrorist Organisations, so the likelihood of her not having heard is high. Now, the tale of what happened will surely put a damper on their limited time together, and he has things he wants to say and answers he wants to get that are much more important than what happened to make him need a transplant.
"Work," he finally answers, with a shrug of the shoulders. Catherine rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head, huffing slightly. "A work related injury."
He hopes this will be enough, but not even he believes in this possibility. Catherine goes perfectly still, serious, eyes boring into his, waiting for more. Whether or not she understands that this is all he is willing to share is not clear to him. What is clear is that his explanation won't be enough. He sighs again, not wanting to go into a subject that he's dealt with and safely and securely packed up in a locked drawer, in his mind, a while ago.
"I guess I should tell you what happened."
"You think?" She's being ironic, but what she feels is anger.
"It was about a year after you left…" and he looks for a reaction, the unwelcome memory invading him, but gets none. "Danny and I were pretending to be drug runners. I was flying a Cessna, and suddenly, out of nowhere, in mid-air, an unidentified helicopter shows up on my left. The door opens and a guy starts shooting at us, like machine gun shooting at us. So, I was hit in the shoulder and abdomen."
"Sorry, you what?" And she can't really believe her ears. "You were shot… while flying the plane?"
"Yeah, it was a lot of fun," Steve goes on, huffing ironically. "I suffered a 'devastating trauma', the bullet fragmented into multiple shards and my liver was shot to pieces."
"Destroyed?" Catherine's eyes are wide, expectant, and her breathing almost comes to a halt. Her heart is beating wildly in her chest.
"Yeah. In a nutshell, I needed a transplant. Everyone volunteered, but Danny and I have the same blood type and his serotyping ended up matching mine, thank God, because there was no time to look for a donor. Basically, he was a match. So he donated a part of his liver to me. This is the scar from the liver transplant."
She remembers to breathe again. "Oh, my God. Why didn't you… how come I never knew…?"
"You were gone. What were the guys supposed to do? Give you a call and let you know? Where to, to start with?" He realises he could've worded his sentence better. Besides, Lynn had been there by his side the moment she had returned from a trip to Maui, so Catherine's presence would've been awkward, at best.
Catherine ignores his anger and reaches for his hand, caressing it. He moves over to her and lays his head on her chest.
"Had they called, I would've come. Just because I left, that does not mean that I stopped being your friend or stopped caring about what happens to you. I told you this once before. Although…" Catherine suddenly remembers why coming would not have been a viable option and realises why probably 5-0 had never called her. After all, they all thought she was gone, never to return to their lives.
Chastised, he looks away, pained. "I'm sorry. I thought I was going to die on that plane. Afterwards, during the recovery, there were times when I…" And Steve closes his eyes, wanting to shoo the pain away.
This time, her hands reach for the nape of his neck and she lightly runs her fingers through his hair. "What?" She lowers her head to him and lays it on his. His smell makes her feel reassured, calm and protected. Always has.
In turn, her touch is so soothing, it almost lessens his pain and makes the subject more bearable to talk about. "I wished you were there, by my side."
Catherine closes her eyes, her insides hurting, imagining what he'd gone through. The mere fact that he's telling her this means they've really come a long way from that fateful day when she had come to his house, out of the blue, and surprised him on a dinner date with his new girlfriend. Steve's not the type to share facts that may perceivably put him in a position of fragility.
"After I pulled through, I did a lot of soul searching while I was laid up at Tripler. I had a long time to think about my life, my choices, regrets… and not proposing was definitely up there on the list. Or rather, taking too long to do it."
"Steve…" Catherine lets his name fall from her lips with a sense of uneasiness; after all, dredging up the past serves no purpose. But he ignores her plea.
"One afternoon, the day before I left the hospital, I met a fellow law enforcement officer whose wife was undergoing surgery. They'd been married for 45 years. 45 years, Cath! I couldn't even make one serious relationship work, let alone…"
"Come on, Steve! Look, I understand the temptation of comparing ourselves with others that appear to have achieved more than us, but really? You, of all people? Not to mention the fact that you did achieve quite a lot in that area, specifically. I myself loved you for over a decade, that's no small feat!"
He veers his head backwards, at her, and the question that he's afraid of asking lingers in the air. Catherine senses his unanswered question and moves on from her statement.
"Can I ask, what changed in your life? You're still in the reserves, right?"
"Yeah, I was allowed to remain. I need to take rejection meds for the rest of my life. Basically, they lower my immunity so that the new liver isn't recognised by my body as an invader. Which means I am more prone to other types of infections. And one day, hopefully never, I may need another liver. I am hoping Danny's is so stubborn, it'll never want to stop making me behave." He chuckles slightly, to lighten the mood of the heavy revelation.
"Wow…" Catherine contemplates the magnitude of what happened, sorry for everything that Steve went through, but mostly sorry for not having been there. Perhaps her biggest regret is having been replaced in the role of caregiver by the next woman. The same woman who still holds the bragging rights to Steve's heart and home. But she doesn't linger on it for long, because he's not done.
"In the interests of full disclosure, I guess I should also tell you that I got exposed to some radiation."
"You what?" And the hits just keep on coming. Catherine turns sideways and looks Steve in the eye.
"Yeah. I may develop cancer down the line. Most likely, thyroid cancer." He's trying to make light of the situation with a shrug of the shoulders, but she just stares at him, in a panic.
"Oh, my God… more? What happened?"
"Oh, you know, the world was going to end if Danny and I didn't defuse a bomb. Except… it had a live uranium core. We were in a remote part of the island, no cell service for a while, so we actually had to drive to a clearing to be able to call the Navy bomb squad. With 10 minutes to spare, it was an adventure," he laughs, remembering. "All we had was an old, beat up car, so we turned it sideways and removed the battery to wrap around my chest. I then managed to remove the uranium core with help from the expert before the bomb went off. I figured I should do it - Danny has a daughter and a son. I don't have anyone who depends on me like that." And as he says it, she feels his eyes on her, as though completing the idea, 'because you left and we never got round to getting married and having kids.'
"Jesus Christ. I do remember seeing you take regular meds in Montana, but I never thought…" Catherine closes her eyes again and breathes deeply. "And what about the radiation? What's being done about it?"
He sighs, not wanting to taint their bubble together with sad thoughts of what may come. But since he brought the subject up, he may as well tell her. This way, he will never have to go back to this conversation. "Nothing's 'being done', I had some spells a few months after, went to the doctor, he told me there is a '100% chance I will experience side effects down the road'," he makes air quotes. "Years down the road, possibly. So I have regular checkups. If I develop cancer, then we'll deal with it. There's nothing I can do to prevent it."
He shrugs his shoulders and knits his brows, as if to say "whatever." If he's honest with himself, he's scared. Scared that his revelations will somehow make her rethink any decision of getting back together with him. They haven't even sat down to talk, properly, but he knows what he ultimately wants from her. What he was denied, over three years ago. It shines out like a beacon in a dark storm, the happy feeling pulling him in.
His irrational fears, however, are unfounded. Catherine lies back down on his chest, mulling over the information, hand distractedly rubbing circles over his skin. She quickly decides there's nothing she can do about what he just told her, so she stores the information to worry about later. Right now, she wants him, the craving taking hold of her with fierce brutality, suddenly needing to remind him that he's very much alive. Catherine knows Steve too well, so she knows that he's feeling vulnerable and exposed for having shared these news with her. Maybe just for today, she can make him forget all about it.
She raises herself on her right elbow and looks Steve in the eye, adoringly. Amused, his eyes roam her body, up and down, and land on her mouth, coaxing her to him. As their lips almost connect, he bumps his nose against hers, lost in her eyes.
"You're so fucking beautiful, Cath," Steve says, raising his hand and starts caressing her arm, as though thanking her for trying to make him feel better.
Catherine knows what he's doing, and she actually feels uncomfortable with the thought. She sits up and, swinging a leg over him, straddles his thighs and splays a hand over his chest, leaning over him. His hands touch her cheek gently, reverently, eyes intense, pulling her hair away from her face. Her heart is beating almost out of her chest; this is more intense than anything that happened last night, and that's saying something. The emotion in his eyes is almost unbearable to her; he's telling her so much with them, so she averts hers, almost crying out of sadness that he's never been able to tell her how he feels, to her face. He senses her inner turmoil and pulls her chin up with his index finger, smiling irresistibly at her.
"If only we could stay like this forever…" he sighs, resigned, wishing he could tell her everything he came here to say. But suddenly, the fear of rejection grips at him like a vice, not letting go. Deep, deep down, he knows there is a chance these really are their last moments together like this, in this lifetime, so he wants to hold onto her and never let go.
"Now, where would be the fun in that? No more SEALS? Navy? Five-0? Ohana?"
He looks at her again, serious, but takes a minute to form an answer he can live with, tomorrow. Catherine bends down and kisses him on the lips, obliterating any thought he might've been on the verge of expressing, his body already beginning to respond to her.
He grabs her arms. "Cath, hold on…" And she whimpers against his lips when he doesn't yield to her. She stops and looks at him.
"What?"
"You're hurting AND really sore. I don't want to make it worse, or…"
"Steve," Catherine says, trying to make him see reason. "Look, I am familiar with the whole caveman-protection thing, but I'm my own woman. I've been taking care of myself for a long time, now, so you don't have to worry about that."
He caresses her face, pensive. "I know you can take care of yourself, Cath. But I don't want to be the means of causing you any more pain, that's all. You should get some rest, this morning."
"OK… so what'll you do about your little problem, here?" She retorts, amused, scooting back a sliver and making contact with his bulging flesh, taunting him.
Steve reaches for her backside, firmly, and pulls her an inch towards him, annoyed. "You let me worry about that. Why don't you try to get some more sleep?"
Catherine snorts amusedly at him. "Really? You think that I'm going to sleep while you are in my bed, naked and hard? Seriously?" And she shimmies back to her previous position, his body soft against her heated skin, but his proud arousal growing hard, making her tingle with delight.
Steve growls warningly at her, feeling his control slip through his fingers. "You know, Catherine, I pride myself on having a lot of self-control, but not with you and certainly not with you doing that." He would've thought that, after the night before, his hunger for her would've abated somewhat, but it's back in full force, strong as ever, if not stronger.
"Good, then, we are in agreement," she smiles and dives back down, looking for his lips.
Holding her arms, he moves his head right and looks her deep in the eye. "But I still think you need to rest. After what you told me, just now, I couldn't, in all conscience, go through with this again. I don't want to screw anything up," he says, motioning between them.
Amused, she makes fun of his concern. "Clearly…" And a giggle escapes her, making him relax. "You let me worry about myself, OK? You're being too serious, lighten up, this is just morning sex between two consenting adults."
At her last sentence, he gets angry, pulling her down to him, eyes boring into hers, locked as if by an unbreakable physical force. "You think I don't want to be inside you too damn much I can taste it?" Just the thought makes him whimper. "Don't you dare reduce this to 'scratch-an-itch sex' with the next available woman, OK? I am worried about your injuries. That I helped make worse." His words are harsh, the tension in his voice tenable.
She struggles until she's sitting up straight and clambers off his lap, now feeling exposed and vulnerable, but also bereft at losing his touch. "And I already told you, don't! You can skip the 'dreamy lover boy act', I am not a delicate flower. So you either want to fuck me again, or you don't. Make up your mind."
He grabs a hold of her arm and next her midsection, delicately, and pulls her to the bed, pinning her partially under him. "And I already told you, I won't fuck you. I do, however, want to make love to you. But on my terms."
Desire spirals right through her at his words, a lightning of adrenaline pumping through her body, starting with a tingling in her lips, and making its way down to her abdomen, toes curling with anticipation. His look is serious, but Catherine can tell he's feeling emotional, a rare sight for her. So she gives in to him, as she stills her movements and partially closes her eyes, taking in a breath to control her shaky voice.
"Fine. On your terms. Do with me what you will," she says, mouth dry, swallowing nervously and licking her lips.
Catherine giving in to him, after three years, is one of the most powerful ego trips Steve has ever experienced. It's not like Catherine is like his last girlfriend – or most other women who roam this earth – in that he is clearly superior in terms of physical strength and survival skills. She is his match, but the fact that she is willing to relinquish control, surrender to him, and let him worry about, and take care of, her, makes his insides melt. On a primal level, all men want to be in control. Steve smiles at her and bends down, lips brushing lightly against her cheek – and the light touch heightens her desperation with the threat of feathers, instead of bodies pressed together. Steve grazes his mouth against the hollow of her temple, then traces the line of her cheekbone, ending on her lips. He kisses her harder, deeper, with a fervent, desperate need she's never known before, until she realises she'll never have enough of him.
A thousand different positions play in Steve's mind, on how he wants to take her, body burning, but suddenly, the answer is staring him right in the face. He pulls her over his body carefully, holding her backside firmly as she straddles his waist. He trails his hands down her back until he touches himself deliberately, eyes never wavering from hers, and she curves her lips upwards, overwhelming excitement and pride welling inside her.
Sliding herself down his waist again, Catherine reaches around, covering his hand with hers. Slowly, she slides her hand down until she touches him, and pulls his up and out, guiding him back inside her. A gasp escapes their lips in unison, as she sinks herself down on him, head arched back in ecstasy. Steve again grabs her waist tenderly, to control her speed, stilling for a full minute, deep inside her. Carefully, tentatively, he raises his legs slightly to protect her back and starts to move extremely slowly, setting their pace, never forgetting her injuries.
Waist held down, she wants to make him thrust harder, faster, but she also knows that it's no use. He's in full Alpha-male mode, right now, and protective, to boot, so that means he's in charge. That, in and of itself, is not a deterrent, because she knows she could make him change his mind, if she wanted to. But yielding to him is strangely erotic, and after years of working alone, making her own decisions and running so many risks in her life, it feels good to, for once, relinquish control to him. Catherine has no problem with that concept – she's independent and secure enough to not even let such a thing enter her mind. So, allowing him to take the lead is a turn on, for her.
And slow love too, as it turns out, as she rides him unhurried and easy, stroking languidly up and down to match his slow, teasing strokes, driving him wild. His body aches with hunger, giving into the erotic pleasure of holding back, pausing for an instant inside her and making that slight circular motion she loves. Steve sits up and his mouth finds her nipple again, before moving up and kissing her with his usual dominating passion, pushing his tongue past her lips and claiming her mouth as his own.
As Catherine continues to move her hips rhythmically, building momentum, she picks up the pace, now with some urgency. Steve smiles arrogantly as she continues to grind against him, body jerking back and forth, desperately seeking release. She braces a hand on his chest to lever herself upward, moaning loudly, crying out his name. Suddenly, she loses control of her movements, pulse racing, orgasm too close for her to stop, her pain a remote gnawing feeling, somewhere undefined.
Steve also shudders with each new wave of arousal, on the verge of his own release, but he controls himself, slowing down his thrusting until the feeling momentarily passes. His body moves against hers slowly, and he's enthralled by the face of the woman that his heart swells with pride at bringing to this moment. The sweet sensation keeps building up, spiraling higher, until it is close to consuming them completely, plunging them into an intense vortex of delight, wiping away everything else. Nothing and no one else exists in the Universe, at this moment.
Catherine rocks herself against him even harder, and suddenly, she breathes out, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as her entire body starts to shudder. She wants to cry out, but the squeal gets stuck in her throat as pleasure breaks over her. She can feel him stretching her and it burns a bit, making her moan at the slight pain it causes, but it feels good, more than it hurts. She loves the feeling, it turns their coupling into something more primal, after all, there's no pleasure without pain. Her muscles contract against him in orgasm, making her sink into him again. He jerks, too, his body bucking convulsively beneath her warm, silken weight.
This time, she can't articulate words, shaking badly, while tears spill out of the corners of her eyes. He moves up and kisses them away so tenderly, she wants to cry again. They just stare at each other, and she feels so damn naked, right now, she can't take his eyes boring into hers, as it gives her no chance to hide her emotions. Steve, however, senses this reaction on her part, and reaches for her chin, raising it with his hand, making her look at him and believe whatever it is that he's trying to tell her without words, opening up his silent soul to her.
They lie there, for a while, until their labored breathing starts to subside. Steve tilts his body slightly until she turns to that side, pulling her body into him again, as they spoon. He strokes her hair gently, calming her, wrapping his arms around her tenderly, and kisses the crook of her neck, pulling the covers over them. A few minutes later, her eyes begin to droop, despite her desire to stay awake. Steve can sense her breathing evening out and can tell she's fallen asleep again. He knows she's still tired from the night before, from jetlag, from Afghanistan, so he kisses her lightly on the lips, and lets her rest as he had originally intended.