back into the arms that care

Connor started feeling antsy a little over a week into his recovery, and rightfully so. It wasn't so much the decrease in physical activity or being stuck at the church; it was more because he wasn't used to being taken care of. He'd been so used to taking care of everyone else, always knowing when someone really truly needed help, so being forced into a submissive state was incredibly aggravating.

But there was an upside to the whole situation…

Elena kneels behind him as he sits on the edge of the bed. She carefully lifts his right arm, stretching his side slowly before lowering his elbow. Connor smiles to himself, still thinking about how she had offered to do a little physical therapy with him. She reasoned that she had a similar injury a few years ago, but deep down it felt like she just wanted to be close to him…she just couldn't say it.

"You know, you never told me why you and Murphy tattooed each other's backs," she mentions lightly.

Feeling her eyes on his bare back suddenly makes him feel self-conscious…another feeling he's not used to. But he chuckles as he feels his muscles strain with the repeated stretch. "I don't know. Suppose it was something to do to pass the time on the sheep farm, keep our hands busy whenever we felt the itch to return to…this. Don't think we really thought that much about it."

"So how did you decide who'd get the face and who'd get the…oh fucking Christ."

"Lord's name, lass!" Connor snaps with a laugh, but he winces almost instantly in pain.

Elena places her other hand on his left shoulder, her hair tickling his skin as she leans around to glare at him. "Don't tell me you fucking flipped a coin!"

All he can do is smile, that mischievous MacManus smile, and Elena rolls her eyes, mumbling another blasphemous exclamation under her breath. That one, though, he lets go.

As the stretching resumes, Connor breathes deeply, inhaling her scent of eucalyptus and sea salt. "I'm not used to this, ye know."

"What?"

He exhales slowly. "Letting someone else take care of me."

"No kidding," she laughs.

He smirks, raising his eyebrows at the memory that rushes back into his brain. "Right. We've talked about this before, yeah?"

"We have." Elena draws in a slow breath herself, and Connor feels her hand twitch against his shoulder. "I think I'm starting to understand it now."

"What's that?"

"Why you take care of everyone else."

He shrugs nonchalantly, somehow still afraid of Elena getting in his head. "Someone has to do it," he states with tender confidence.

She remains quiet, though, and Connor's curiosity piques, wanting to know whatever revelation Elena's had.

And clearly, she can read his mind. "Because you might lose them. And you want to do whatever you can to keep that from happening."

Fuck. Elena has finally done it…she finally cracked the code to Connor's sub-conscience. She figured out something about him that he didn't really understand himself, honestly. Until now.

He can't help but smile, feeling a bit of relief even as she extends his arm higher, stretching his side more. "Ye might be on to something there, Elena."

She slides off the bed and moves to stand in front of Connor. He lifts his arms straight forward out of routine, and she presses down on them while he stiffens his muscles to prevent his arms from lowering under the force. After a few rounds, Elena places her hands on her hips in satisfaction. But her lips twist with a hint of despair. "I haven't had someone to lose in so long that I forgot what that feels like…to take care of someone like that."

Connor rubs his palms on his jeans as he presses his lips together solemnly. "Aye. We've talked about that before, too." Her mouth widens into a nervous grin, a small laugh huffing out from her chest as her eyes are still tinted with sadness. Connor's eyes crease into a smile, his voice soft as he says, "Yer not alone anymore, remember?"

Elena's smile falls slightly, fading from innocent complacency into soft yearning. Connor slowly moves to hold her hips, and her hands rest on his forearms as he pulls her closer. His eyes remain locked with hers as her hands slide up his arms to rest on either side of his neck. The pads of her thumbs brush his jawline, rubbing against the growing scruff of facial hair as she subtly bites her lip.

He senses her hesitance, like she's still worried he could break at any moment. Or worse, like she's still not sure how they feel for each other.

Connor slips his hands up her jeans, curling them under the hem of her t-shirt and touching his fingers against her skin. Elena leans her head back, closing her eyes as she inhales deeply while Connor caresses her waist. She lowers her chin again, her green eyes dark against her wide pupils. He pulls her closer, pressing his lips against her bared stomach as she lowers her head more, her fingers tangling into his hair at the nape of his neck.

Elena arches her back as Connor holds her face with his tattooed hand, gently pulling her to brush his lips against hers. His kiss is more tender this time, less urgent, yet still passionate. He feels each and every single moment from before slowly burn between them, every could-have and should-have now simply having.

Her legs curl up on either side of him as he shifts back on the bed, guiding her hips as she straddles his lap gently. She holds his face with both hands as they kiss, his tongue finding the salt of her skin so familiar. He likes that feeling, so much, that he knows how she tastes.

She pulls back, her features torn between desire and concern. He can tell she's still afraid of hurting him, but Connor smiles as he strokes her cheek with his thumb. He wants to say something, tell her it's okay, and tell her everything he's feeling…but words don't feel enough. He captures her lips again and shifts their bodies together, laying her on the bed.

As he props himself up on his left side, he keeps his right hand cupped perfectly against her jaw while their tongues continue dancing around each other. He's strangely aware enough that he doesn't want to completely cover her with his body, like it'd be a move of dominance if he did. And that's the last thing he wants to be—dominant over Elena. All he wants is to be with her, for this moment to last forever.

Connor feels his erection grow inside his jeans as Elena reaches around his back, careful not to touch his injured side as she clutches his shoulder blade. She pulls him closer, tighter, and he lets his broad chest press harder against her body. The muscles in his abdomen strain more, but with the good kind of pain, the pain he wants to feel just to be close to her.

He breaks their kiss to look at her, softly running his fingers across her forehead, brushing her hair out of her face. And Elena's jade-green eyes stare deep into his soul.

Hopefully, they've locked the door, as Connor doesn't even want to risk pulling away from her. And hopefully, God will understand committing a sin inside a church…because it's her.

"Connor…" she exhales his name against his mouth. He pulls back again, watching her catch her breath, when he hears another voice call his name beyond the door.

His eyes lock with Elena's, and she starts giggling while he lets out an exasperated sigh. He presses his forehead against hers as he chuckles, too, mumbling a few curse words under his breath.

"Connor?" the voice calls again, confirming it's Murphy.

As they sit up, Connor brushes Elena's hair back off her shoulder. "Well then," he starts, unsure of what else to say that could remedy the situation.

"Time's up," she teases lightly, though he can see the disappointment in her eyes, in the way her cheeks are still flushed.

A modest knock on the door interrupts, with Murphy's voice on the other side. "Conn?"

He finally tears his eyes away from her, and he can't hide the annoyance in his tone as he calls back. "Yeah?"

"Is Elena still in there with ye?"

He slips on his t-shirt and moves toward the door, looking over his shoulder at Elena with a smile. "Aye, she is." He shakes his head, laughing quietly as Elena stands up, adjusting her shirt. "Fucker learned his lesson apparently," Connor whispers to her, and she promptly slaps his shoulder with the back of her hand as she stifles a grin.

As the door opens, Murphy doesn't move; he just stands there with a grim look on his face. "I'm sorry, it's just that…something's happened."