A/N: This is my fill for AO3commentoftheday's short fic challenge #6 - a scene fully without context. At least this is as without context as I can get.

CW: Nakedness and mentions of sex. Don't get confused - this is at least as much about sex as it is about feelings.


His knuckles rasped against the wood–harder than a diamond after the pressure of months of mourning–for the third time. "Samara!"

"Come in," her voice, even like the line her lips were always pressed into nowadays, reached him through the thick wood. Anger would be preferable to the unreadable mask on her face that he had to force himself to stare at and keep his hands away from. Taking it off would instantly draw him to what lay underneath.

The door wailed upon his intrusion but he pushed through. "I know it's late. I wouldn't have come but it's important." The cold wood closed behind his back to leave no room for escape and he let his eyes find her in the prison his power couldn't free them from. "I need you..."

Water drops feel from her wet hair and trickled down her exposed flesh raising it in goosebumps against the cool air. Her breasts rose so rhythmically that it looked automatized – like there were cogs turning inside her under threat of her dropping dead. Her shapely thighs squeezed the breath out of him with the memory of them closing around his body the last time he'd brought her to orgasm – in another lifetime. Her face was free of makeup and the red was in her cheeks rather than in her lips. From the hot water, not from his intense gawking.

"Why are you naked?" And why did it shake him as hard as the tragedy he'd stuffed under his mattress to get between the two of them? He couldn't remember how long it'd been since she'd dropped all of her clothes for him. All that was filling his mind was the softness he knew her skin to be, the taste of her lips on his brain and the little gap between them he could close in a moment. If she let him. If he let himself.

"I'm just emerging from the bathroom," she reached for her hairbrush, the nonchalance itching on his skin. There was no invitation in her movements but no rejection either. She'd let him reach her but he had to make the first step and he'd grown roots outside her door.

"Why are you opening the door without any clothes on?" He rubbed his palm over his face. Her nakedness wasn't helping his tired–tempted–mind. And neither were the paranoia and possessiveness. She was doing it on purpose – pushing until he pulled but he'd stepped back from his affliction intentionally. Distraction only led to disaster.

"I didn't open the door, you did. You were going to knock it down by the time I got dressed," she locked eyes with him, daring him to lie to her face. It would be stupid to break his silence after he'd made her tolerate it for months.

"You were swimming?" Her schedule was just as busy as his but she made time for the pool while he'd avoided it with the same resolve with which he'd avoided her bedchamber. She would have made the time to go to his chamber if he'd asked her to. He just couldn't stand the sight of her in his space without touching her, without pulling her in his arms and he was already holding a million ghosts there. There was no more room for mistakes but even that would slip from his mind the minute her breath replaced his in his lungs.

"It's become an evening routine." She was in no hurry as she brushed her hair, not letting his presence disrupt her process. If only he could say the same. He wouldn't have to stay away from her.

"Was this the plan?" he crossed his arms. She hadn't tried to seduce him before but she hadn't had a reason to do it. He'd been the one asking her in his bed.

Samara stilled, the motionlessness grotesque on her in the short period she allowed it on display. She left her hairbrush on her vanity. "First of all, I didn't know you would visit." Of course not. But how was he supposed to admit his weakness after the devastation it had brought? "And second of all, if I had hidden intentions, you would be the one naked and in my bed." Nothing to argue with there either. "What did you need?"

Erendor opened his mouth before closing it again. She was offering him all of herself right then and there and he couldn't need her. Couldn't afford to be anything less than self-sufficient and faultless. "Will you put some clothes on?"

"If you don't need me naked, I have no reason to be."

She gave him a moment and he wasted it. She walked into her closet to fetch herself an outfit and left him alone again. She was the only one that had the power to keep him from stepping astray but it wouldn't be enough if he didn't keep her at a distance. Her crown was smaller than his.

She emerged from the closet, a pink silk nightgown with straps hugging her curves now instead of him. Her damp hair was luring him to run his fingers through it so that it would soothe the heat of his skin.

He swallowed. "I need your help." That was all he could ask of her no matter how much he wanted her in his bed. Because of that.

"Of course, Erendor. Even though I don't know if that will be enough." Her lips remained parted – for his breath to sneak in. But he didn't have any left.