Heartbeat
The first night that he was able to, that he was recovered enough to have mobility to even think of or try anything but sleep at night after the prolonged confrontation with the Stuarts, Wendell had been hesitant, unsure of how Darlene would react to even semi-intimate touch. Since what had happened with the Stuarts, especially Father Stuart and his sons with Darlene, he had not tried to touch her for longer than to hug her or hold her hand. Part of this, of course, was due to his injuries; having been beaten nearly to the point of death, Wendell had hardly been able to raise his arms without pain, let alone to feel enough of a libido to try for more than sleep when gingerly maneuvering himself into the covers beside Darlene each night. Other than to help him care for his injuries and to occasionally his cheek or the side of his head, or to rub her hand over his shoulder or the side of his arm, Darlene too had initiated nothing in this time, and he had not read desire for more in her eyes.
But the first night that Wendell's injuries were almost healed, it all seemed a bit more uncertain to him. He didn't want to move too fast, to do anything to remind her of what she had been subjected to against her will. He knew that his twin was tougher than any woman he had ever encountered, that her encounter with the Stuart males in their chamber had not broken her or damaged her as it might other women. She was more than that, and always would be. But nevertheless, if she wasn't ready, or had no desire, or if anything they had always done and enjoyed together would in any way seem similar to or a reminder of anything they had done…
It was a good thing they were already dead, that Darlene had been able to reciprocate vengeance against them first as well. But sometimes when Wendell was alone, and could allow himself to feel the savage fierceness of his rage towards them where Darlene could not see, all he could think about was how bitterly he regretted that he had not been able to participate in their destruction.
As he slid into bed beside her, then turned to face her, reaching out to stroke his fingertips over her cheek, Darlene held his gaze before shifting herself closer, sliding her hand over his hip before splaying it across the base of his spine, drawing him in. She spoke with calm evenness, even as her hand shifted lower.
"Nothing has changed, Wendell. I'm still me."
Still, for a few moments he simply pulled her in close against him, holding her in an embrace that was almost a cradle, listening to her heartbeat against his. Only after this wordless reassurance, and a gentle prompting from her wandering hand, did he proceed to kiss and explore her body, his relief at the truthfulness of her words making his affection even more savage than usual.