Michael removed his shirt and lay down, watching her out of the corners of his eyes as she undid his zipper and rubbed the coconut oil onto his belly. He inhaled sharply when her fingertips touched his skin; he squirmed and clutched at the sheet, balling the fabric in his fists.

"Relax, now... I'll be gentle." As the coconut oil melted onto his skin, the scent of it filled the loft. Sara examined his wounds with a practiced eye. "There is some minor inflammation, but otherwise you seem to be healing nicely. How bad is your pain?"

"It's nothing, really," he replied tightly, fidgeting beneath her hands.

Sara pressed her palms onto his abdomen, gently kneading. "Does that feel better?"

"Ahh..." Michael groaned. "...Sara!"

She stopped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." She resumed massaging him with a softer touch.

"You're not... hurting me." He put his hands on top of hers. "Quite the opposite." He looked up at her. "I've dreamed about you...for seven years," he murmured, "to have you touching me, like this..." His words came out hesitantly.

Sara stared back at him, transfixed by the sight of his bare chest, his new tattoos. Wordlessly, she bent over and kissed him, softly at first and then more insistently. Michael reached up and took her face in his hands. She pulled back just a little to look into his eyes, and what she saw there made her kiss him again with an intensity that stopped his breath. The sound of his moan, low in his throat, started a pulse throbbing between her legs. Michael broke the kiss.

"I want you back, Sara."

She looked at him.

"But...I...we can wait," he offered. "If you don't feel-" he began. "Maybe tonight is not..."

Sara was having none of his hesitation. "Shhh, Michael..." She kissed him for a third time, then stood and unbuttoned her pants and let them fall to the floor. "I've missed you...so much." She lay down beside him and pressed the length of her body against his. Gently, she turned his face to hers and kissed him with an open mouth, stroking low on his belly with her fingertips, a move that made his stomach muscles ripple. "We belong together," she told him tenderly.

In response, Michael slipped his hand up her back inside her shirt, found the clasp of her bra and undid it. "Please, can I just look at you?" Sara accommodated him, sitting up and removing her bra and shirt. "Oh, Sara..." Michael marveled at the sight of her bare breasts and torso, his eyes bright with longing. "Tell me this is not a dream!" He took her hand and drew her down beside him again, and his lips found hers. He kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth, gentle but demanding. He slowly inched her panties down until they reached her knees and then she kicked them off. Now she lay naked next to him.

Michael raised himself on an elbow, drinking in the view of her body in the candlelight. "God, you're beautiful!" He slid his hand behind her neck and bent his face to hers. His lips grazed her cheek, sending shivers though her that made her tremble. "If you want me to stop, better say so now," he murmured into her ear.

"Make love to me."

"Do you mean it?"

"Yes, I mean it!"

Michael rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "If you're sure..." he whispered. He leaned in and kissed her. Then he rose and slid off his pants and boxers and tossed them onto the pile of clothes on the floor. Sara felt a thrill of excitement at the sight of his naked body, his erection. "I want to show you how I feel about you," he told her. He lay down beside her and, with deliberation, lowered his mouth to her already-erect nipple and flicked it with his tongue. Then he took it into his mouth, sucking on it tantalizingly. He touched Sara between her legs, and finding her wet and swollen with arousal there, he gently inserted his fingers inside her.

Sara whimpered his name, "Oh, Michael..."

Michael took some coconut oil from the jar and spread it on Sara's belly, smoothing it upward, massaging her breasts with his hands, and then down, stroking her inner thighs with his fingertips. Delighting in the sensation of his touch, she felt wetness surge between her legs and was seized by an intense yearning for him. She looked deep into his eyes and smiled at him. "I love you, Michael." Before Michael could react, Sara got up and straddled him, took hold of him and put him inside of her. She could tell by the expression on his face that he was surprised, but also that her boldness excited him. She pinned Michael's hands down and let her breasts brush his chest, rocking her hips, moving against his bare thighs and belly. Her body enveloped him as she hungrily drew him in, deeper and deeper. Michael moaned aloud, "Jesus, Sara!"

"Am I hurting you?"

"Hurting me? No!" he gasped out, dizzy with desire, "You're killing me!" He bucked up against her involuntarily. "I won't last long if you keep doing that," he exclaimed, telling her he would climax too soon with her on top. Michael rolled her over, careful to stay inside her, never taking his eyes off hers. He gave her a lingering kiss, reaching beneath her and holding her close while he slowly stroked into her. As his arousal grew he began to take her harder, his head bent in concentration. "Sara..." he panted, saying her name reverently, "you feel... so... incredible, I just can't..."

Sara, rising up to meet his thrusts, could barely speak. "Michael!"

"Tell me... if I'm too rough!"

Sara felt like she would never get enough of him. She was getting tired and sore but she didn't want him to stop. She no longer needed sleep... she just wanted him deeper, to have his sweet weight pressing down on her, to cleanse her of Jacob. She watched Michael's emotions sweep across his face and felt his sweat drop onto her breasts. When he bent his face to hers and kissed her tenderly, his kiss brought tears to her eyes. She grasped his thigh, pulling him in, and felt him grow even larger and harder. She wanted there to be no end to her bliss. It was an act beyond physical pleasure: a way for Michael to reclaim her, for her to end his doubts about where her affections lay; a new first time for them.

Sara's hair fanned out around her face like a flame and Michael grasped a handful of it in his fist. She slid her hands behind him, feeling the muscles of his butt flex in exertion as he thrust into her, over and over. Feeding off one another's excitement brought their passion to an almost unbearable level.

They moved together in an increasingly frantic rhythm until Sara felt as if she had taken Michael's entire body inside her, like she was going to explode, and she shouted his name, shuddering convulsively. The sensation of rocketing skyward at high speed overtook her. Her climax fluttered around him and he followed right after her, emptying himself into her thoroughly, pinioning her beneath him. They lay spent and panting for breath, holding onto each other for dear life, and then the tears came.

"I'm sorry, Michael," she sobbed, clinging to him.

"Sorry? For what?" he asked her, alarmed.

"For crying."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm crying too."

Sara laughed a little, still trying to catch her breath. "It's... overwhelming! I thought you were dead, and now, we're lying here together... oh god, you're so very much alive!"

He answered softly, "Yes, I'm alive."

"And you sure as hell know how to prove it!"

"Was that a compliment?"

"It most certainly was!"

"Thank you!" He gave her a kiss and grinned at her. "Uh, by the way, Sara... about before? Me too."

Sara lightly slapped his cheek and laughed. "Michael Scofield, you did not just say that!"

Michael laughed with her and then his tone turned serious. "You know how I feel about you, don't you? It should go without saying."