A/N: So, this is the flipside of "Shelter". Charles's thoughts during the event. Read, review, and enjoy!
~Larien~
Once again, he has me here. I'm lying atop my own desk, laid bare for him to see. Though my eyes are currently clenched shut, I know the sight above me. He's standing there, his wild dreads tied back, his beautiful eyes glittering with passion, that small golden locket still dangling from his neck. As I rock my hips in time with his, I fight not to shout in pleasure. I'd like to tell myself that I received my scar while protecting all of my boys, but I know deep down I took it solely for him. I know it hurt him when I faked my own death, but I also know he appreciates my devotion a great deal. The gentle way his calloused hand is caressing my scar is proof enough.
I can no longer contain myself. I must look at him again. My eyes open to find him deep in thought. His emerald eyes are half-lidded, but I catch it when they suddenly narrow. His hips thrust faster and harder, jarring my body. His nails are digging into my skin enough to break it. He's growling low in his throat, much like a feral dog. My heart rate picks up and I now fear for my safety. I've never felt that with him. He's only ever been soft and gentle with me.
I must have whimpered or let some other frightened noise escape, for now he is looking down at me, eyes full of apology. His grip loosens and he fills me completely, bringing his hips flush against me. I'm filled with nothing but adoration as he leans down to plant soft kisses of remorse and adulation along my collarbone. I moan, letting him know how much I enjoy his attention. My left hand drifts up to caress his freckled shoulder, encouraging him to keep going. Eventually, I let my hand wander over to his neck and down to the small golden locket. It's such a simple item, but it means so much that he would still wear it.
He's never explained why he began wearing it, or why he continues to wear it, but the fact that he does only serves to remind me exactly how much I am cherished. In my absence, it must have been to keep me close to his heart. I'm ashamed to have caused the one person I hold dearest on this planet so much pain and torment. He only ever loved me, and in return, I gave him nine months of personal Hell. I've never been able to lavish the same amount of affection on him. I only ever take. As I lie there under his quiet ministrations, I vow to myself to begin returning every single ounce of love I receive from this man.
Suddenly, I notice he's wiping tears from my cheeks. My shame and guilt must have spilled over. Sensing that the mood is no longer right, he disentangles himself from me and draws me into his arms. He backs into my desk chair and pulls me into his lap, cradling me against his chest. My emotions continue their mutiny and the tears flow more freely. He doesn't ask about my sudden display, and I don't explain. He softly presses kisses into my hair, allowing me to shed my professional countenance. Somehow, he knows to say exactly what I need to hear. He murmurs soft promises to me, giving me peace. I am finally able to wipe my eyes and utter the words that have been begging for release since my return.
"I'm so sorry. I'll never leave again. I can't live without my comfort. I'll always belong to you. I love you."