Summary: "It's like the universe said 'screw you' and handed her the very object of her forbidden affections." Skye didn't plan on falling in love when Gordon took her to Afterlife. And she definitely didn't plan on falling in love with him. But since when has life ever gone along with the plans of man? Yeah, never. AU. Contains adult content.
A/N: Fair warning, chapter lengths are not consistent. Chapter one ran away from me and developed some extra plot.
Morning Glory
"What happens if Jiaying finds out?" Skye wonders, tucked up against her lover, comfortable at his side.
The moon casts light through the thin curtains that cover the cracked window of the cabin. She can faintly hear the night wildlife, a few midnight birds and crickets chirping as they go about their routines. It's a calm night, just like the last few. A perfect night.
It will be a trend that continues until her mother finds out- her mother, leader of Afterlife. Her mother, who she's just met perhaps a week ago. Her mother, who doesn't know that she is in a relationship with one of her closest confidants.
His voice betrays his growing state of drowsiness. "About what?"
She lazily prods his bare arm with an index finger, barely withholding a snort at how the beginnings of sleep have fogged his mind. But her words are serious, a true concern that she cannot help but to think about the longer they go on like this. "About us, doing this."
"She won't." He murmurs, shifting to settle her more closely against him. And if she didn't know him better, he practically sounds sure of the answer.
She obediently nestles further into his side, but her mind is still troubled, still running through the scenarios of their being discovered. He knows, even without her saying a single word more of it. He always knows.
"Go to sleep, Skye." He sounds more awake, almost amused. "Not even Jiaying worries as much as you do."
She tilts her head up to look at his face, at the empty, shadowed hollows at the top of each of his cheeks.
For a man without eyes, he's ridiculously easy to read- at least to her, anyway. It's not difficult for her to see the same worry he speaks of in his furrowed brow, the near-grimace twisting at his lips.
She feels the smallest pang of guilt at reminding him of the delicacy of their relationship, and reaches up to cup his cheek. "Sorry."
The arm he has wrapped around her tightens in silent reassurance.
Four nights earlier…
Skye sits outside, on the bench just at the front of the Chinese-styled hut that she had been assigned after leaving the first grand room that she had stayed in. The moon is high above Afterlife, despite the small mountain that it resides on. The landscape is bathed in the pale light of the distant stars, and dark shadows have been cast upon the village. A few birds sound their midnight calls, and a few crickets chirp lively. In the distance, one of Asia's mountain goats bleats, waiting for a response it doesn't get.
She's been meaning to ask about the wildlife here. Jiaying would remind her that she's had a lot on her mind: after all, she's only been in Afterlife for a few days.
She was locked away by SHIELD, then inexplicably hunted by them. She doesn't know where her friends are, what they're doing, if they're even still alive. And she has new abilities to master, because she doesn't want to hurt anyone else, like the man she'd seen with Bobbi.
Skye hasn't seen Raina, not since she'd nearly killed her. From what Gordon has told her, Raina's decided that she'd rather keep to herself.
Gordon also told her that when he brought her here, she'd been trying to get herself killed- first, hit by an automobile; second, shot by some armed SHIELD agents. Maybe Raina isn't meant to die, she'd reasoned, reluctantly giving up on that avenue.
She also knows that the others wouldn't keep her here if she did kill Raina. And Skye has to admit that she kind of does want to stay here, in Afterlife. It's peaceful, the home she never had, even in SHIELD.
Here, everyone treats everyone else the same, everyone welcomes everyone else with open arms. And the communal meals are great. She loves those the most, being able to watch the various other Inhumans interact. Few don't come to those, and part of her is surprised that Gordon isn't one of them. He's kind, sure, but he's always seemed the kind of person Skye expected to prefer time alone.
"Hey, Warden!" Lincoln will call, and Gordon'll come right over to their table beneath the pavilion with an easy smile, happy to engage in conversation while he supervises the area for Jiaying. Sometimes he'll drag along another Inhuman for Skye to meet- and while she's always happy to speak to someone she hasn't yet met, her thoughts always circle back to the eyeless teleporter.
She'll never say it aloud, but Gordon fascinates her- and not just in his abilities to teleport across the world or maneuver Afterlife with little difficulty despite being blind. It's what she's doing right now, sitting under the stars, thinking of him. Where he is, what he's doing…
Skye winces, inwardly scolding herself for acting like a lovesick puppy.
She's a guest here, and she plans to return to SHIELD once she has her so-called gift under control. They can try to get her to stay, but there's no way she ever would.
Fitz and Simmons are her best friends, surrogate siblings for the ones she could've had. Coulson is the mentor, the father that Cal wasn't able to be- the father he never will be, given what he's become. And what sane person can say no to May?
No, she can't stay in Afterlife. Not forever.
At least she knows how to call Gordon. Surely, he could bring her here to visit, couldn't he?
Skye sighs in exasperation. Stop. Thinking. About. Gordon.
It's easier than thinking about Trip. She's not sure that she's ever going to get over what happened to him.
The calm of the night suddenly feels like too much, and Skye takes a deep breath that doesn't do anything at all to clear her mind. She rises to her feet and pushes through the doorway of her open, Asian-styled cabin.
She needs to distract herself- a difficult thing to do, because, even though Gordon had included her laptop in the bag of her belongings that he'd grabbed from the Retreat, there isn't any service way out here. Another reason why she misses SHIELD; she always has service when she's with them- strange how that works with the Playground being an underground base. You'd think service wouldn't be too great down there.
She passes by the table that her few possessions sit on top of in favor of plopping down on the large plush bed- it's seriously larger than any bed she's ever slept in before- and leaning forward on her knees to drop her head into her hands. She recalls a young Chinese man she had seen meditating the day prior and wonders if he'd teach her to do it should she ask.
Part of her knows that she'll look ridiculous, but she decides to try it anyway. It's not like there's anyone standing around to watch, and she's already out of place here. And, at any rate, it'll occupy her for a little while, and that's something. Maybe it'll actually help.
Skye pulls her legs up onto the bed and scoots back, centering herself on it- falling off would be humiliating and the last thing she needs. She maneuvers herself into the same pose the man had been in, bending her knees and laying her legs flat so that she can press the bottoms of her feet together in front of her. She rests the backs of her hands on the insides of her knees and curls her fingers, lightly touching her thumbs to the tips of each middle finger.
She takes a deep breath, again, trying to ignore the baffled expressions that her mind conjures of her SHIELD team, and directs her attention to the relieving feeling of being able to breathe easier as she closes her eyes and lets her physical senses take control-
A sudden, loud hum ripples through the air as the fabric of reality tears open and stitches itself back together, a brilliant blue light shining through her eyelids as it comes in from beyond the window.
Gordon.
Meditation attempt forgotten, her eyes fly open and she nearly topples from the bed as she scrambles off and leaps to her feet, her haste making her clumsy. Where the hell did you go in the middle of the night?
She makes it to the window, and her eyes scan the path outside of her hut. It takes her a little longer than she likes to locate him, for he's on the ground beside another man, coughing as water drips from his soaked form, hair plastered to his head. Her eyes watch him as he pushes himself up to his hands and knees, then sits back on folded legs.
"A river? Seriously?" His voice is an octave higher, breathless from exertion. She can hear it through the window.
The other man is coughing a bit harder, and it takes him a moment to respond, too quietly to make out through the glass.
Gordon's shoulders sag, and Skye imagines him sighing.
They converse for a minute longer as they regain their bearings, then the second man staggers to his feet and leaves, a finger reaching into his ear to unclog it.
Gordon shakes his head and tries to wring out the tails of his coat as he gets his own feet beneath him. He pauses, head tipping to the side, prompting her to wonder what he's thinking about. She hadn't realized how much that a person's eyes express until she met him.
It's not until her hand is on the door handle that she registers that she's moved, but it's too late to backtrack. The door is already halfway open, and Gordon's already turning to address her, with a flinch that makes her freeze.
"Is something wrong?" He asks, the tilt to his head becoming more inquisitive. His breathing isn't quite even yet.
"Funny." She says. "I was about to ask you the same thing."
He gives a half shrug, and she thinks she sees some relief in the gesture. "Everything is under control, Skye. You have nothing to worry about."
She can't help but to lift an eyebrow; she's not sure that she can believe that from a half-drowned blind man. "So, you just took that other guy and went for a midnight swim?"
"A bear chased him into a river." Gordon finally tells her, taking a step toward her little Chinese hut, no doubt aware that he's in the middle of the walkway. The moonlight glints off of his front, revealing that he's bare-chested beneath his beige trenchcoat. Another look over him betrays bare feet.
He was called for when he was sleeping, Skye realizes. A strange, warm-edged pity worms its way up into her chest at the revelation. "Do- do you want to come inside?" She blurts out, to her immediate regret. "You look cold."
She expects him to say that he can manage on his own, that he can use his gift to get back to where he stays, but he doesn't. His head is angled downward as he finally approaches her, as if he's embarrassed of something. "I'd appreciate that."
Gordon seems to pause as he nears the step up onto her porch, as if...as if he can't see it.
Skye blinks and moves forward to help him, coming to his side and grabbing the soaked sleeve covering his right arm to guide him forward. "Here."
"Thank you." He seems to relax a little.
"Yeah." She manages, bringing them to the doorway. "No problem."
Neither of them speak as they enter the hut. Skye pulls out a chair at the table and leads him over to it, only closing the door once he's settled.
She can hear him rub his hands together to warm them as she goes around lighting a few of the candles scattered about the room, driving away the shadows so that she can better see him. She sits herself back on the edge of the bed, uncertain as of what to do next. Shivers still wrack his body, and it's not like she has any coffee to offer him.
"Are you okay?" She asks after a moment, the question belated.
"Just disoriented." He offers a small smile. "The water, it..." He pauses, briefly gesturing in an attempt to explain as he flounders for the right word. A few specks of water fling themselves across the room to reach her skin, and she nearly shudders herself. "It scrambles my senses, leaves me vulnerable and helpless to recognize my surroundings. It does the same to my gift, makes it difficult for me to pinpoint an exact location to tether myself to. It's like being thrown in a huge, dark room.
"Don't worry,"he adds, as if sensing how the idea of it unsettles her,"it'll wear off once I warm up."
He tugs his coat tighter around him, pulling her attention back to the stubborn droplets that cling to his chest.
"You should take that off." The words slip off her tongue before she can think them through, and she stammers out a weak explanation in a pathetic gamble to save herself. "I mean, uh- you- you might get sick, because that is not drying out tonight."
A pregnant moment of quiet goes by, and Skye feels the blood rush to her face. She inwardly curses the godly being who decided that she is incapable of saying anything tactful with believable conviction.
She's supposed to be an agent of SHIELD. She has been trained by the best to withstand the harshest interrogations. How is a desire as primeval as lust working to unravel those delicately weaved threads?
Human, she knows, is the biggest part of the word Inhuman, and it's something always more than happy to make itself known, to remind her that she is human, at her core.
When she thinks the silence will never come to an end, Gordon laughs, a light sound that makes her jolt in surprise. "That is very thoughtful of you, Skye." Amusement lingers at the edges of his voice, warm and pleasant, holding an easy forgiveness that allows her to breathe a little easier once more. The slightest bit more serious, he says,"Are you sure you don't mind?"
"It's really no big deal." She assures him, doing her best to sound confident. "I kind of needed the company anyway, it's too quiet around here."
"People tend to sleep when it's dark out." He teases, working the waterlogged trenchcoat over his shoulders. It clings to him, every pore of it weighed down by the river water. Skye's eyes catch on some of the various scars that break up the even tone of his skin, and she wonders how many of them are from helping newly transformed Inhumans like her. "Though, I don't imagine that you have a regular schedule at SHIELD."
"No." She says, fidgeting where she sits. "I mean, we do, sort of. It's just really flexible."
Gordon almost pauses, cocking his head in the way she's noticed that he can't help when he's curious about something, an adapted quirk to make up for the lack of expression that came with losing his eyes during Terrigenesis. "What were you doing out? Jiaying told me that you start early tomorrow."
"I couldn't sleep, so…" She lets herself trail off, refusing to let her gaze linger on the floor, as she summons up a question to fire back at him so that they're equally uncomfortable. "How long would you have stayed out there if I didn't hear you get back?"
There's a faint smile on his lips as he hangs his coat on the back of the chair, though, judging by the way his brow furrows, he lets himself genuinely ponder the question. It's another thing that Skye likes about him; that he's both a careful thinker and always willing to consider the answer to a question.
She watches the rivulets of water trail down his bare shoulders when he shrugs. "Only until I could make my way to the compound. No longer than necessary."
"Glad I saved you the trip." She quips.
"It has certainly provided good entertainment." Then, again, spoken quietly in earnest: "Thank you, Skye."
She can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the last few minutes.
This was not how she saw her night going. Casual conversation with Gordon, out of all people- the very person her thoughts keep circling back to, the very person she was attempting to meditate to clear her thoughts of. It's like the universe said "screw you" and handed her the very object of her forbidden affections.
Well, she thinks wryly, that is what happened.
"You can stop thanking me." Skye tells him, fully meaning it. "Seriously, I got to meet my mom because of you, Gordon. So, hello, thank you."
"My pleasure." He dips his head in friendly admission. But with the movement, he groans , almost as if in pain. He pauses to stretch his shoulders back, to ease some unseen pressure in them.
"Stiff?" She asks, the tiniest bit amused.
Gordon raises a reassuring hand in her direction, the fact that it ends up a little too far left reaffirming the current unreliability of his senses. "It's nothing I can't handle."
"Right…" She mutters, doubtful of his claim.
Restless and uninclined to let him remain uncomfortable, she slides from the edge of the bed and starts crossing the room. Gordon turns his head to the left with a small frown, tracking the sound of her footsteps to the best of his ability as she circles around behind him. He's quickly forced to stop and straighten forward, however, the same tightness in his shoulders present in his neck. She can hear the quiet, sharp breath that hisses through his lips.
"What are you doing?" He asks, when she stops directly at his back.
Skye doesn't answer, her focus instead on the visible collection of scars scattered across his back, the pale marks that speak of the past. She doesn't even realize that she's reaching out until she feels his chilled skin against her own, a more-controlled stiffening making his shoulders rise beneath her touch.
And instead of letting her apologize, her mouth runs off with her curiosity and her eyes trail down a long cut that vanishes behind the back of the chair. "What are all of these from?"
He's silent for a long moment before he answers. "I've been helping people like us for a long time, Skye. We're dangerous when we're not in control. People get hurt. And that's why we are here to help them."
Yeah, and we're dangerous even when we are in control. At least, according to SHIELD.
She shakes her head, clearing the bitter thoughts away. Thinking of SHIELD now will do no good, not when she doesn't know why they sent agents after her, not in the middle of learning to control her strange new abilities, not in the presence of company that fears that coming in contact with them will lead to extermination and extinction.
She finds herself stumbling over her words again. "It's just- you always seem so wise, so confident. Like, nothing phases you. I don't get that. I- do you mind- Gordon, what was your Terrigenesis like?"
Skye can feel his thoughts jolt to a hard stop, can feel his guard rise. He doesn't know her, not really, and she doesn't know him. He lost his eyes when he went through Terrigenesis. It's too sensitive a question too soon.
She winces and hopes he can't hear how her throat bobs as she swallows back the regret. What is wrong with me tonight?
"Sorry." She mumbles.
And, to stop her shame before it gets away from her, her hands begin working at his tense shoulders- shoulders that drop down into a resting position in a surprised response to her actions. Her gaze glued to the back of his neck, she catches the slight turn of his head and gets a small glimpse at the bewildered expression on his face.
"What are you trying to do?"
"What, are you surprised I know how to give a massage? I've done stranger things undercover for SHIELD."
There's no response. Gordon straightens his head.
Okay, she should really get some pointers about conversational self-control from Coulson. Witty quips don't get her anywhere with an intelligent being, and especially not with one who's mostly unfamiliar with her.
As the silence draws on, Skye silently wills Gordon to forgive her, though she doesn't let herself hold onto that hope too tightly. She needs better filters.
At least he doesn't pull away or ask her to leave him alone.
His skin feels a little warmer now, though that's more likely due to her body transferring heat over to him in comparison to his being in a sheltered environment. It's soft, his skin. Surprisingly so, given his line of work in teaching Inhumans. The muscles beneath twitch uncomfortably every now and again, unused to such foreign treatment, but Skye can feel them slowly easing into it. She knows how to make them relax, the right places to press down and manipulate the knots out.
And the longer it goes on, the more she can feel him letting his shields down, the more she can feel him giving up on whatever soundless fight he's having. He still won't look at her, but the tension in his shoulders begins to dwindle down to nothing, and that's definitely something. It takes some of the self-consciousness from her and allows her mind to wander off to other places, her hands mindlessly continuing the ministrations.
She doesn't realize just how far her thoughts have drifted until his voice startles her, as weary and hesitant as it is:
"I was sixteen. Blind. Scared."
He's talking about his Terrigenesis, she realizes, the slightest bit surprised. She'd assumed that he wouldn't answer after how abruptly she had brought it up. She wants to tell him that he doesn't have to, that he can keep his pseudo pride up, but she doesn't have the strength to back the words. You said you were younger than me, but you didn't say that you were a kid when they put you through that.
He continues on, unopposed, voice almost distant in the haze of memory. "I was in and out of the physical world, couldn't latch onto anything solid to tether myself to.
"I was repeatedly thrown into walls that I couldn't see, dropped onto a hard floor that kept disappearing beneath my feet. I thought- hoped- it was all a dream, until I started to bleed. I couldn't understand it."
"You were stuck in a loop." Skye breathes, horrified for the younger version of him that she had never met.
"For fourteen hours." He says, sounding just a little more present than before. "You could destroy everything around you, but I couldn't even find it."
When it's put that way, triggering spontaneous stress earthquakes really doesn't sound all that bad. As soon as the thought crosses her mind, the faces of Bobbi Morse and the other agent come to mind, and she cringes. Yeah, let's not think about earthquakes like that.
"That sounds...terrifying." She manages, shaking herself from her stupor. Her hands have drawn to a halt somewhere during his story, and they now rest at his collarbone. "I guess the river reminded you of that?"
"Rivers are their own problem." Gordon lightly amends, his voice fading away for a moment at the end of the correction. He sounds more like how he did when he met with her at the Retreat when he speaks again. "I got the help I needed after my transformation, and now I offer the same to others."
"Stop deflecting." She snaps, overcome with the sudden urge to be even closer to him, to comfort and support him- to kiss him, this eyeless man she just met days ago. "You matter, too, Gordon."
And she's unable to stop herself.
She twists around him, surges forward. Her hands find his head, and her fingers dig through his hair. Her lips find his own, soft and warm and gentle. And, to his credit, he only hesitates for a single, brief moment before letting her in, slowly raising blind hands to her waist, drawing her closer to him.
Is it possible, Skye wonders, eyes instinctively slipping shut, arms moving to drape themselves around his neck, that he was waiting for this, too?
Gordon, she quickly realizes, isn't just an impressive kisser for a blind man, but better at it than some of the men she knows who can see. The interest she's had in him had at some point turned into want, and now she can feel it morph into desire, churning in her gut, pooling deep in her lower belly.
She finds herself sinking down into his lap, pressing the weight of her body against his own, feeling the cooler, rapidly heating skin of his chest through her shirt and the moisture in his remaining clothing through her own. One of her arms drops from his neck, and the hand travels to the aligning shoulder, pressing into it, relishing the feel of his skin beneath hers. The gesture prompts him to relocate one of his own hands, which rises to cup her jawline. She responds with an approving hum and leans into the touch.
She breaks their lips apart to breathe, his name feverish on her tongue as she presses her forehead to his. "Gordon."
His lips brush her cheek, and she can feel the slightest of smiles, a quiet return of affection that makes the entire world seem a bit brighter.
She's loved men before, had men before, but this is different from all of them; he's an Inhuman, just as she is. They're different from the rest of the world, from even each other, but that makes them the same, similar in being different from every other living thing on the planet.
Her fingers trace his face, her eyes flutter open to watch, to learn and know every part of it. His strong jawline, the curves of his nose, the hollows at the tops of his cheeks, the lines in the skin inhabiting the space where his eyes had once been.
"And, yes, I used to have eyes. They were blue."
And while she could conjure up the image of those eyes there, she wants to know him as he is, not as he was.
"Gordon, you're beautiful." She whispers against him. And she means every word of it.
Because he has that rare beauty that comes with age and experience, the kind that shines like firelight on snow-covered ground. It doesn't matter that he doesn't have eyes, not to her. He's beautiful, and that's all that needs to be said about it.
His voice comes in a breathy chuckle. "I'm glad you think so."
Skye leans back to stretch her spine, and the chair creaks in warning. "We should…probably move."
Gordon's mouth twitches in that amused almost-smirk of his. "It's certainly not a bad idea."
She reluctantly disentangles herself from him and gets her feet planted firmly on the floor beneath her, and waits for him to stand himself. He seems a fraction surer of himself compared to before, but she still reaches out to guide him anyway, one hand steady on his forearm. He follows along with a light air of gratitude that doesn't need to be addressed in words.
She brings him to the bed, on the far side of the room, and gracefully pulls him down with her when she climbs onto it.
For a moment, there's nothing. They're both still. And then:
"I can hear you thinking." He says.
"Sorry." She laughs, and draws their lips back together.
He doesn't hesitate this time.
His arms snake their way around her as they kiss, pulling her close, and her own lift up to press against his lean chest, drinking in the feel of him. The leg she's not laying on reaches out to encircle the both of his, unbothered by the heavy moisture clinging onto every thread of his pants. She thinks she might be able to feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath her palms, but her own is pounding hard enough to drown it out.
Her fingers trace a scar on top of one of his shoulders, and her lips break away from his to pursue it, ghosting over the mark in his flesh, rising to trail up his neck.
His breath, hot on her ear, catches audibly in his throat at the first contact, and she smiles affectionatelyas gentle hands skim up her back. In turn, the hand not holding onto his shoulder raises to the back of his head, tenderly rooting through his damp hair, squeezing droplets of water from it. His fingers dance at the collar of her shirt.
"May I?" He murmurs, panting lightly.
And without skipping a beat, lips still pressed to his skin, she nods her consent.
His hands drift south, down to her waistline. They slip beneath the hem of her shirt, to rub circles into the tops of her hips, before he takes the fabric in his grasp and begins to raise it up toward her head. She breaks contact for a moment so as to let him pull it up and over, returning to his lips when she dives back down. Her tongue breaks through to his, and she moans at the mix of sensations between that and his hands dragging up her bare sides.
Gordon's hips rock against her own, and her fingers hook onto his warm shoulder blades as she gasps into him. She can feel his smirk against her lips.
"Feeling better?" She breathes between kisses.
There's a puff of breath against her skin in response, and she just barely catches the sound of his voice. "Much."
She can tell. He's more certain of his movements than she's seen since she found him, almost literally, at her doorstep, his body radiating the same lustful heat as her own. The thought, distant as it is in her haze of desire, makes her shiver.
A wave of heat crashes over her, a spark lighting ablaze deep inside of her, igniting something wild and untamed and alive. It leaves behind its echo with every brush of his skin on hers, each gentle caress of his fingers across her face and sides. It leaves her dizzy with desire, and desperate for more. She could burst from the inside out, this hungry fire licking over every ounce of her being. And she'd thought she couldn't want him more.
Skye never had realized when this fascination for him grew beyond simply that, and she'll never be able to pinpoint the exact moment should she choose to look back for it. But, right now, here, she realizes there's no denying that it did, that it has.
There's no denying that she's fallen in love.
That she's fallen in love with a blind man, who happens to have teleportation powers. With a man whom she knows may very well be more than twice her age.
Her life certainly is an interesting one, she muses.
And, then, all thoughts are history.
Because Gordon has freed her of her bra, because his hands are on her breasts, feeling them, nurturing them. Because his lips are on her neck, tender and so carefully placed. Because, beneath his touch, goosebumps are sprouting on the surface of her skin. Because they need each other.
She loses herself in him. The remainder of their clothes fall into a tangled pile on the floor, cast aside to be rediscovered come morning.
Those thin fingers of his find their way down the sides of her belly to rest over her navel as his soft lips drag along the length of her collarbone, and she arches into his touch. She whimpers as a strong wave of heat- the strongest, most intense wave of heat yet- falls over her like a veil, consuming her. It feels, ironically, like a thousand bees are roiling beneath the surface of her skin, waiting to be set free.
Skye buries her nose in his hair when his hands fall lower and begin to knead her tender thighs, and drinks in the scent of him. He smells like the river. But she doesn't mind. On him, it's a nice smell, and it only makes her want him more.
Her nails lightly scrape against his back, and she catches his sharp intake of breath, the slight twitch that runs from his spine out to his fingertips. She tilts his head to the side to plant a kiss on his ear. He rewards her by nuzzling the valley between her breasts, pulling her impossibly closer to him, and kissing each of the peaks.
The shudder that runs through her body prompts her legs to further open, prompts her to raise them to his hips, to wrap around them and hold them to her own. His length, hard and warm, urges her hands back to claw back up to their perch on his shoulder blades, right where they belong, ready for action.
His breath is hot on her neck, and she trembles against him.
"Please." She begs, breathless, her words naught but a whisper into the night air.
His fingers glide over her skin one last time, and she lets out a gasp as he slides inside her, moving slowly. He gives her but a moment to adjust and holds her securely to his body as his hips begin to rock. A groan escapes his lips as he gradually begins to pick up the pace.
It's a rhythm, a rhythm that quickly falls into a frantic, desperate tempo. Before long, her hips are arching up into his, her back curving as she works to match his thrusts. The deeper he pushes, the more drawn out her pleasured moans are, the more vocal she is- the more vocal they both are.
The sounds that he makes, the way that she feels, all of it makes her toes curl almost painfully against the blankets, makes her fingernails dig into his skin to feel out the bone beneath the muscles in his powerful shoulders.
Then he hits that spot, and she's unraveling.
The hut rumbles softly around them as she reaches her climax, peaking with her, dwindling down to nothing with the blinding white light at the edges of her vision.
Gordon, the unshakable man he is, just tilts his head in fascination and waits it out before his turn comes, the air around them flickering with that brilliant blue of his. And, experienced with his gift as he is, he reins it in and keeps them grounded in place, the light fading out as he retreats and collapses beside her, spent and content.
They lay there for minutes that feel to be hours, their breathing slowly evening out as the lingering heat vents through their skin and out into the cooling air of the room. Drowsiness settles over her like a heavy blanket.
She may have been unable to sleep prior to Gordon's arrival, but she's now almost certain that it will come to her soon. A silent buzz behind her eyes blots out the world around her, and her eyelids begin to give in to the temptation, becoming more difficult to keep open with each passing moment.
Something creaks suddenly, loud in the near-silence, and Skye's eyes snap open out of field habit. But she sees nothing in front of her, and the man at her back is equally quiet, so she lets herself relax once more.
"Gordon?" She murmurs, a thought crossing her mind.
He says nothing, though she can still sense his presence behind her.
She frowns. Unable to tell if he's awake or not, she turns and glances at him best she can over her shoulder- a rather useless endeavor, she finds, seeing his still form. "...Gordon?"
"I'm here." His voice is quiet, calm, only the least fatigued. His head shifts in her direction, waiting to hear what she has to ask of him.
She almost hesitates, but mentally pinches herself instead. Because, why freeze now? "Can you stay?"
He smiles. "I have nowhere else to be."