Ahh kinda angsty and fluffy this one, I wanted to do a mildly smutty one but it came out all angsty...why do I do this to myself?

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I need this sometimes.

The warmth of another and the slide of slick skin against slick skin (or cloth against cloth when we need to be fast). The way this perfect creature kisses my neck when he peaks, or how he hugs my body to his and sighs against my shoulder briefly afterward. The way he pants my name and the way his face lights up with pride when I keen against or beneath him...

I need this because the weight of what I've been assigned to do is often too much for me. My job here doesn't allow me to feel. And sometimes you need to feel. So what can you do when you need to feel, but you aren't allowed to feel? He helped me figure it out a while ago. What we have isn't perfect, but it works...somewhat. It's not emotional either, what we do together. And he understands that, he knows what I ask of him isn't supposed to be out of love or even desire. He uses me the same way I use him, we both understand that we can't afford any more than what we give at this moment in time. We risk too much otherwise.

But I am not content with just using him. I want it to be more, because as time goes on I find that I feel less human without him. Each time we come together and he fucks me against a wall or into a bed, like the surprisingly feral lover he is, it's harder for me to wear my mask of apathy. Harder for me to remind myself that I can't need him more, that I can't afford to feel anything towards him.

And yet, even now as he comes in me and I murmur his name as I follow suit, I decide to forget the rules. The rules can go to hell, and so can my mission...just for now. I don't let him leave me, not now and hopefully never again. I grasp his hand and keep him from pulling away. He pauses, a droplet of sweat collecting on his forehead and gliding down his nose to drop down to my heaving breast. He is right to be confused, as I have always pushed him away after every coupling we've had.

"Please." I whisper, tugging him back and wiping sweaty, blonde locks aside from where they are plastered to his skin. He looks inquisitively at me with those sapphire eyes I am not allowed to adore, but do so anyway, and I feel my own eyes attempt to water. So I pull him to my body in a tight embrace, so he won't see any tears...because no one should see me cry. "Stay." I plead, and I whisper so quietly I'm certain he doesn't hear, "Help me feel human."

He shuffles and rolls us so we are side by side, and he pulls back from my neck to wipe at my cheek, at the tears he's not supposed to see. "Okay." he says, and to my surprise, he kisses me.

We don't kiss. We never have, because a kiss can be tender, it can mean love, and we aren't supposed to be in love. We aren't supposed to feel passion and desire when we share a bed. But despite all the rules, and my true reasons for being here, I decide that when it's just us, we're allowed to love, and we're allowed to comfort. He's allowed to see me cry, and I'm allowed to ask him for help. I decide that I'm allowed to love him. I decide that the risk is worth it.

Because right now, I need this more.

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A.N.

The next one's gonna be kinda cool and wild so I'm looking forward to writing it.