I realized that there was actually a chapter missing so this one is EXTRA long so I don't have to redo everything, Enjoy the smut!
September 16th 2012, 9:30 am
They stepped out of the Villa and into the soft predawn light, a quiet agreement between them as they walked side by side, the air thick with an unspoken tension. The group had finally managed to get power back on, but the Villa itself had long been abandoned and wasn't exactly equipped with luxuries like running water, so they had one option left: head into town.
Claire slung her duffle bag over her shoulder, reaching down to grab Desmond's as well, her fingers curling around the worn strap. But before she could lift it, Desmond's hand brushed against hers, his fingers gently but firmly closing around the straps of both bags.
"Let me," he said, his voice soft but resolute. She glanced up, seeing a quiet determination in his expression, an unspoken promise to shoulder some of the weight she carried—not just today, but always.
For a moment, she hesitated, feeling the familiar impulse to insist she could handle it, that she didn't need anyone to lighten her load. But the gentleness in his eyes made her pause. With a small nod, she released her grip, letting him take both bags. It felt like a subtle surrender, a gesture that went beyond the physical; it was a choice to allow someone else to carry some of the burden, to let herself lean into the trust she'd begun to feel with him.
Desmond kept pace with her, glancing over occasionally as they made their way along the winding path. Claire could feel the weight of his concern without needing to look—he was always watching, always just aware enough to make her feel both seen and grounded. In the dim light, she felt a rare sense of vulnerability, her tactical gear pressing against bruises she'd earned over the last week.
As they entered the outskirts of town, the silence between them became more comfortable, Desmond breaking it occasionally with observations about their surroundings. But Claire knew his mind was still on her, on the way she'd flinched earlier when she thought no one was looking, how her hand had drifted to her ribs, the faintest of grimaces flashing across her face.
They found a small, aging inn tucked into a quiet street, its shutters closed but the faint glow of light within suggesting it might still be operational. Desmond pushed open the door, and the soft chime of a bell echoed through the empty lobby.
In the hallway, Desmond nudged open the door to a tiny washroom, barely big enough for one person. Claire followed him inside, and as the door clicked shut, the silence became weighted. The space was dim, a single bulb hanging from the ceiling casting a warm, low light that softened the edges of the room, blurring the line between them. A metal showerhead jutted from the wall, tarnished and slightly rusty, but functional.
Claire reached out, twisting the handle, and after a few stubborn groans, a sputtering stream of water trickled out. She held her hand beneath it, feeling the water go from icy to lukewarm, then warm enough to send a small wave of relief through her body.
"Looks like we're in luck," she murmured, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Desmond gave a small chuckle, watching her closely. "Better than the Villa, that's for sure," he replied, but his eyes lingered on her face, the concern in them deepening.
Claire met his gaze for a moment before looking away, feeling a strange flutter of vulnerability ripple through her. The washroom's cramped space amplified everything—the faint hum of the light, the steady trickle of water, Desmond's presence filling the room, each detail heightened. She told herself this was just practical; they were both exhausted, and if sharing a single shower could save time, then it was just another necessity of their lives. But practicality was only part of it. Another part—the part that had been buried for so long under layers of control, walls, and scars—wanted this. She wanted to feel what it was like to let someone in, if only for a moment.
She glanced at the mirror above the cracked sink, her reflection catching her off guard. Dark circles etched shadows beneath her eyes, the bruising at her neck dipping under the collar of her trench coat. Just the thought of peeling off the layers felt exhausting. Each layer was a reminder, a shield, and the idea of removing them here with him felt as heavy as it did strangely freeing. She took a breath, steadying herself.
Her trench coat came first, the thick fabric slipping off her shoulders and onto the floor. Desmond's gaze stayed steady, his expression softening as he watched her. There was no pity in his eyes, no impatience, only a quiet understanding. He reached out, helping her shrug off the heavy gun holster vest. His fingers brushed her shoulder as he lifted it away, gentle but firm, and she suppressed a shiver, every nerve attuned to his touch. Underneath, her arms ached, and the bruises along her shoulder blades throbbed.
Then came her long-sleeve fitted shirt, clinging to her as she peeled it over her head, the motion slow and cautious. She winced, her breath hitching as pain lanced across her ribs, the soreness a raw reminder of everything her body had endured recently. The shirt joined the growing pile on the floor, leaving only her bulletproof vest, the final barrier between her skin and the world.
Desmond's eyes met hers, and for a moment, they both held still, each aware of the unspoken significance. She took another breath and let it out slowly, nodding almost imperceptibly, signaling to herself as much as to him that this was okay, that she wanted this. With a small grunt of effort, she slipped her fingers under the edges of the vest, the pressure releasing as she lifted it off. The bruising on her back, dark and spreading like a storm across her shoulders, came into full view, the colors merging with the faded ink of her tattoos, turning them shades of black and purple.
Desmond's gaze drifted over her back, his expression unreadable for a moment, though she could sense the weight of his emotions through his silence. She felt exposed, her skin prickling not from the cold, but from the vulnerability of letting someone see her like this, stripped down to her rawest self, unguarded and unarmored.
"Claire…" he murmured, his voice soft and low, as if afraid to disturb the moment. She felt his hand hover near her shoulder, not quite touching, as if asking permission without words. The hesitation spoke volumes—he was waiting for her to decide, to make the next move.
She gave the faintest nod, and his hand settled gently on her bruised shoulder, his fingers feather-light yet grounding. There was something steadying about his touch, a warmth that seeped through her skin, calming her heartbeat. She closed her eyes for a second, letting herself sink into that warmth, the sensation a balm she hadn't known she needed.
Claire's hand drifted to his, pressing his fingers against her shoulder a little harder, grounding herself in the present. She'd been careful to keep others at arm's length for years, a necessity born of survival. Intimacy had become something abstract, dangerous even—a reminder of everything Abstergo had tried to take from her. But here, with Desmond, it felt different, like a reclamation, a choice. She wasn't doing this out of necessity or control; she was doing it because she wanted to, because for the first time in a long time, she felt safe enough to let herself feel something beyond survival.
Slowly, she turned to face him, their eyes meeting in the dim light. The air between them was thick with something neither of them needed to define, a connection that felt at once fragile and unbreakable. She searched his face, finding in his expression not just desire, but patience, an understanding that reached past words.
A small, faint smile touched her lips as she took a step closer, her bare shoulders brushing against his shirt. Her fingers found their way to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up slowly.
The contrast struck her as she tugged the fabric up, her fingers brushing against the unblemished warmth of his skin. His body was untouched by the kinds of scars she bore, free of the reminders of battles fought both inside and out. For a moment, she hesitated, fingers still as she let herself feel the difference—a reminder of everything she'd survived, of the distance she'd put between herself and anyone who might care to see past her defenses. She was scarred, bruised, and cracked in places that had felt irreparable, yet here she was, reaching out for him, feeling his closeness and his trust as though she deserved it.
Desmond lifted his arms, helping her ease the shirt over his head, and she let it fall to the floor, her gaze drawn to the openness in his eyes. She searched his face, half-expecting some flicker of pity, some small sign that he was second-guessing this, but instead, there was only warmth—a patience that steadied her.
She took a breath, grounding herself in the closeness, and let her hands settle on his bare shoulders, the warmth of his skin a comforting, steady presence under her palms. The dim light softened the lines of his face, casting a faint glow on his cheekbones, his jaw, the curve of his mouth. And as she looked at him, she could feel a quiet ache inside, a deep yearning that wasn't just for touch but for connection, for the sense of something safe and real.
Desmond's fingers lifted, tracing a line down her arm, careful but unafraid. His touch was unhurried, respectful of the barriers she had taken down just to be here like this with him. She felt the slow, tender glide of his fingertips along her skin, reaching past the bruises, past the scars, as though he were seeing beyond them. Her hand slid up to the nape of his neck, and she drew him closer, a quiet need rising within her, filling the spaces she had long thought would stay empty.
She kissed him, their mouths meeting in a soft, unspoken understanding. The kiss was tentative at first, as though they were each testing the boundaries, the softness of their breaths mingling in the warmth between them. His arms encircled her waist, holding her close, the press of his chest against her own grounding her in the here and now, in a sense of safety she hadn't let herself feel for anyone in so long. And with each touch, each shared breath, she felt a part of herself return, piece by fragile piece.
Desmond's hands settled at her waist, fingers brushing against the fabric of her pants, lingering just above her hip bones, giving her space to decide. She knew that removing this last layer meant letting him see every bruise, every scar, the unvarnished truth of what she'd endured and survived. But somehow, under the warmth of his gaze, it felt possible—natural, even.
She leaned back slightly, meeting his eyes as her hands drifted to the waistband of her pants, fingers hooking under the fabric. His expression softened further, as though he sensed the gravity of this moment for her, offering nothing but silent, steady reassurance. He watched her with such care that, for the first time, she didn't feel the need to hide. The fear she'd always felt in moments of vulnerability was replaced with a fragile kind of trust, a feeling she hadn't allowed herself in years.
Desmond followed her lead, his hands moving to the button of his own pants, a small but reassuring smile tugging at his lips. She matched his gesture, their movements slow, deliberate. The fabric slid down, pooling around her feet, and she bent to step out of her pants, her muscles protesting the movement, soreness radiating through her back and shoulders. As she stood, she could feel Desmond's gaze traveling down, taking in every inch, but there was no judgment in his eyes—only quiet acceptance.
They both slipped out of their shoes, the last of their clothing discarded in the small space between them, leaving them bare. Claire could feel the coolness of the tile against her feet, the slight chill of the air in the room as it contrasted with the warmth radiating from the water and Desmond's presence. She took a steadying breath, feeling a sense of liberation that was both exhilarating and terrifying. This was her choice, her step into something real, something untainted by the control and trauma that had defined so much of her life.
Desmond reached for her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers, grounding her again as they stepped beneath the showerhead. The water spluttered and hissed, its warmth enveloping them both. She felt the heat seep into her skin, a soothing balm against her bruises, and let out a small sigh as the tension she'd been holding slowly ebbed away. Desmond's hand never left hers, his fingers strong and sure, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles.
The water ran down her shoulders, tracing paths along her bruised back, over the marks that had darkened her tattoos, turning the familiar lines into something new, something she'd carry with her always. She felt Desmond's eyes on her, his free hand moving to her shoulder, fingers gentle as they explored the lines of her back, each touch filled with a quiet reverence.
Desmond leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder, his lips warm against her skin. She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the moment, feeling the weight of her guardedness and fear melt under his touch. Here, in the warmth of the water and his embrace, she could feel herself beginning to heal, reclaiming the parts of herself that had been buried and broken.
"How bad is the pain?" He asked her.
She opened her eyes, the warmth of his voice grounding her as much as his touch. For a moment, she considered downplaying it—saying something dismissive, deflecting in the way she'd grown so accustomed to. But here, with him, the truth felt like a necessity.
"It's... manageable," she replied softly, her fingers still entwined with his, tightening slightly as if to steady herself. "Though all that climbing certainly didn't help."
Desmond's gaze softened, his brow furrowing as he took in her words, the weight of everything she'd been carrying alone. She could feel the empathy in his eyes, a deep, quiet understanding that made it easier to admit the vulnerability she'd been holding back.
Without a word, he shifted slightly, his hands moving to her shoulders, his fingers pressing gently, soothingly. She let out a slow, shaky breath as his hands worked over her sore muscles, each touch easing the lingering ache. She hadn't realized how much tension she'd been carrying until he began to work it away, his touch a reminder that she didn't have to bear it all alone—not here, not with him.
His hands traveled down her back, finding the worst bruises, the places where her skin was still tender. Each time he brushed over one, he'd pause, adjusting his pressure, his movements careful and respectful. She felt a shiver run through her, both from the sensation and from the realization that he wasn't afraid of her pain, that he saw it, acknowledged it, and didn't pull back.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice low and filled with regret. "For all of it."
Claire felt the warmth of his hands steady on her hips as she turned to face him, her own hands hesitating before resting lightly on his chest. His words hung in the air between them, and she could see in his eyes the weight of empathy, a sorrow not for himself but for the suffering she had endured alone, for the years that had scarred her inside and out.
Her fingers traced the outline of his collarbone, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breaths beneath her touch. "It's not yours to carry," she murmured, but there was no conviction behind the words, only a kind of resignation that she could see he wasn't willing to accept. Desmond's hands tightened slightly, grounding her with the gentle pressure of his touch.
"It doesn't have to be yours alone, either," he replied softly, his voice a low rumble that seemed to reach somewhere deep within her. She looked up, the warmth of his gaze dissolving another piece of her defenses, softening the edges of the pain she'd carried so closely for so long.
Her hands moved across his chest, fingers brushing lightly over his skin, feeling the solidity of him, the warmth that seemed to pour from his very presence. She wanted to respond, to tell him she knew, that she was trying to let go of the solitude she'd wrapped herself in. But words felt fragile here, too small to carry everything she felt. Instead, she stepped in closer, her forehead coming to rest against his, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.
Desmond's thumbs traced slow circles over her hips, grounding her in the present, his touch warm and patient, never pressing her for more than she was willing to give. She could feel his heartbeat under her hands, a steady rhythm that matched the slow, soothing cadence of the water around them.
"They took so much from me." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle patter of water, "But with you…I feel safe enough to let my guard down."
Desmond's eyes softened at her words, his gaze holding hers with a steadiness that seemed to root her even more deeply in the moment. He lifted a hand, his fingers brushing a stray droplet of water from her cheek, lingering at the edge of her jaw. His voice was low, a steady warmth that matched the heat of the water around them.
"That's all I want for you," he murmured.
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting his words settle within her, each one stripping away another layer of the armor she'd built around herself. With him, she felt less like the guarded, haunted person she'd become and more like the woman she remembered before everything, before Abstergo's cruelty had forced her into a world of pain and isolation. And in that realization, there was something profoundly freeing.
Her hands drifted from his chest to his shoulders, fingers curling slightly, her grip grounding her as she took in a steadying breath. Desmond's hands remained gentle on her hips, his thumbs tracing the smallest, comforting circles that sent a shiver through her—not from fear but from the undeniable intimacy that pulsed between them, the knowledge that here, now, she didn't have to hold anything back.
"I didn't think this would ever be possible," she whispered, her voice carrying a vulnerability that felt both terrifying and exhilarating. She searched his face, the weight of her own guardedness beginning to feel like something she could finally let go of. "To feel like myself."
Desmond leaned forward, his forehead resting against hers, his breath warm against her lips. "You don't have to be anything but yourself with me, Claire," he murmured, his voice steady, a quiet promise. "Bruises, scars, everything—I see you."
She felt a swell of emotion at his words, a tenderness that she hadn't let herself feel in so long. In his presence, she felt seen not as a broken remnant of who she once was, but as whole, even with everything she'd endured. A small, tentative smile tugged at her lips as she looked up at him, her fingers tracing gentle lines along his shoulders, memorizing the feel of his warmth, his solidity.
Desmond's hands moved up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing across her cheekbones, grounding her in his touch, his gaze never wavering. "Whatever they took, whatever you feel you lost," he whispered, his voice filled with quiet strength, "you still have you. And that's something they can never take."
A soft, shaky breath escaped her as his words settled into her, a balm for wounds that had lingered long after the physical scars had faded. And in that moment, something clicked into place—a realization that with Desmond, she didn't have to be defined by her past, that she could finally reclaim the parts of herself she thought were lost forever.
Claire's heart pounded with a quiet resolve as his words echoed within her, a quiet strength blossoming where there had only been guarded silence for so long. She had spent years surrendering pieces of herself—her trust, her ability to feel safe, her sense of belonging in her own skin. But here, with Desmond, those fragments seemed to drift back to her, not with force, but with a gentleness that spoke of choice, of power. And she knew, in that moment, that she was ready to reclaim something she'd believed was forever out of reach.
Her hands drifted from his shoulders down to his chest, fingers spread against his heartbeat, anchoring herself as she leaned up, her lips brushing his in a kiss that was no longer tentative. This was her choice—a step into the unknown, a step toward the life she deserved to reclaim. She pressed closer, her body fitting against his, each kiss deepening as she let herself surrender fully, allowing herself to want, to feel, without hesitation or fear.
Desmond's arms wrapped around her, his hands warm against her skin as he pulled her close, his own desire tempered with a patience that matched the steady rhythm of the water around them. Each touch, each shared breath, was a silent affirmation that she was safe, that she was whole, and that here, with him, she didn't have to hide.
Her hands found their way to his back, fingers tracing the curve of his spine as she let herself explore, feeling the strength beneath her touch. He responded with quiet reverence, his fingers trailing down her sides, settling at her waist, grounding her even as the intensity between them grew. She could feel the quiet restraint in him, the care that underscored every touch, every kiss, as though he were reminding her that this was hers to lead, hers to reclaim.
Claire's breath hitched as Desmond's hands slid lower, his touch igniting a heat within her that had long been dormant. She arched into him, her wet skin pressing against his, craving more contact, more of this connection that felt like coming home to herself. Desmond's lips trailed along her jaw, down the column of her throat, each kiss a promise, a whispered reassurance.
"Are you sure about this?" he murmured against her pulse point, his words a warm caress. Even now, with desire thrumming between them, he was giving her an out, a chance to change her mind. The care in that simple question made her heart ache in the best way.
"I'm sure," she breathed, her fingers tangling in his wet hair, holding him close.
He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes dark with desire but soft with tender care. "Tell me if anything hurts, okay?" he murmured. "I don't want to cause you any more pain."
Claire nodded, touched by his concern. "I will," she promised.
She reached between them, her fingers trailing down his taut stomach, feeling his muscles quiver beneath her touch. When she wrapped her hand around his hard length, Desmond inhaled sharply, his hips jerking forward into her grasp.
"Jesus, Claire," he groaned, his voice rough with need. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him. She could feel every inch of his arousal pressing insistently against her stomach.
Claire stroked him slowly, relishing the velvety hardness against her palm, the way he throbbed at her touch. Desmond's breath came faster, his fingers digging into her hips as he fought for control.
"I want you," she whispered against his lips. "Please, Desmond."
With a low growl, he lifted her effortlessly, pinning her against the cool tile wall. Claire gasped at the sudden movement, a brief flare of pain lancing through her bruised back before it was swallowed by searing desire. She wrapped her legs around his waist, opening herself to him, desperate to be filled.
But Desmond paused, concern flickering in his eyes as he noted her wince. "Your back... maybe we should..."
"No, don't stop," she pleaded, rolling her hips to rub herself against him.
Desmond's expression softened with understanding. He shifted, turning them so that Claire's back was no longer pressed against the hard tile. Instead, he cradled her body close to his, supporting her weight as the warm water cascaded over them both.
"I've got you," he murmured reassuringly. One strong arm banded around her waist while his other hand slid down to grip her thigh, hitching her leg higher on his hip. The new angle had him notched right against her aching center.
Claire's breath caught as he rocked forward, letting her feel the thick ridge of his arousal sliding between her slick folds. Pleasure sparked through her, bright and sharp, making her clutch at his shoulders. "Please, Desmond..."
He claimed her mouth in a searing kiss as he pushed inside in one long, slow thrust. Claire moaned into the kiss. Desmond's hardness filled her completely, stretching her in the most exquisite way. Claire gasped against his lips as she adjusted to his size, her inner muscles fluttering around his thick length. He held still for a moment, giving her time, his forehead pressed to hers as they shared shaky breaths.
Claire shifted her hips experimentally and they both moaned at the sensation. Pleasure radiated out from where they were joined, suffusing her entire body with tingling heat. She felt so full, so deliciously possessed by him. It was almost too much after so many years without intimacy. Tears pricked her eyes at the overwhelming rush of emotion.
Desmond noticed and cupped her face tenderly, his thumbs brushing her wet cheeks. "Are you alright?"
"Yea," She breathed, blinking back tears. "It's just been a really long time." She could barely remember her last encounter with another man. It had been so casual and devoid of any emotion other than lust. But with Desmond, with someone she knew, someone she was allowing herself to trust, it felt different. Overwhelmingly different.
Desmond's gaze softened with understanding, his hands gently cradling her face as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "We can take this as slow as you need," he murmured reassuringly. "I'm not going anywhere."
Claire's heart swelled at his words, at the care and patience in his touch. She captured his mouth in a slow, deep kiss, trying to convey everything she was feeling - the vulnerability, the gratitude, the building desire. As their tongues twined languidly, she started to rock her hips, needing to feel him moving inside her.
Desmond groaned into the kiss, his grip on her thigh tightening reflexively. He matched her gentle rhythm, sliding out halfway before pushing back in with a slow, rolling thrust. Claire whimpered at the delicious friction, her body already so sensitive, every nerve ending alight.
Desmond's thrusts gradually increased in tempo as Claire's body adjusted and opened to him. She clung to his shoulders, soft cries of pleasure escaping her lips each time he filled her. The hot water sluiced over their joined bodies, the sensual slide of slick skin on skin adding to the growing heat between them. Desmond groaned against her neck, his hips snapping forward more urgently now, driving into her welcoming tightness.
Claire keened as he hit a particularly sensitive spot deep inside. "There! Oh fuck, right there!" Her nails dug into his shoulders as she ground herself down on his pistoning length, chasing the exquisite sensation.
Desmond adjusted his angle, thrusting deep and hitting that spot inside her again and again. Claire cried out sharply, her head falling back against the tile wall as intense pleasure radiated through her core.
"Don't hold back Claire," Desmond panted against her neck. "You are safe." His voice was rough with desire, his hips driving into her with focused purpose now.
Claire could only whimper in response, lost to the building ecstasy. It crashed over her in waves, each thrust of Desmond's hips pushing her higher. Her inner muscles clenched around him, drawing him in deeper.
"Desmond, I'm close," she gasped out. "I'm going to..."
"Let go, baby," he encouraged breathlessly. He let go over her thigh, reaching between them to find the bundle of nerves that was on fire.
The added stimulation was the final push she needed to fall over the edge. Her climax hit her like a tidal wave, pleasure crashing through her body in intense, shuddering pulses. She cried out sharply, her inner muscles clenching rhythmically around Desmond's hard length as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her.
"There you go," Desmond encouraged hoarsely, continuing to stroke her through her peak even as his own thrusts grew erratic. Feeling her come apart in his arms, her slick heat rippling around him, was rapidly unraveling his control.
Claire clutched at his shoulders, her body shaking with the force of her release. It seemed to go on forever, aftershocks sparking through her core every time Desmond's hips met hers.
Finally, he stilled and she collapsed against him, gasping for breath. Her head was on his shoulder as she caught her breath, her body still tremoring occasionally as she felt him twitch within her, still hard. With tenderness in his touch, he pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "Are you alright?"
"Mmm…yea." With a soft murmur, she pulled back so she could look him in the eyes. "You didn't..." She whispered, her voice trailing off as she looked up at him.
A slow smile spread across his face as he gazed down at her. "I'm not done with you yet," he declared, his hands gently framing her face.
Claire's breath caught at the heat in Desmond's eyes, his words sending a fresh shiver of desire through her. He was still hard inside her, his arousal a delicious pressure that kept her on that knife's edge of pleasure even as the aftershocks of her climax faded.
"What did you have in mind?" she asked, a hint of playfulness in her breathless voice. Her fingers traced idle patterns on his shoulders, relishing the way his muscles flexed under her touch.
Desmond's smile turned mischievous. "I want to taste you," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that she felt all the way to her toes.
Claire's inner muscles clenched involuntarily around his length at his words, making them both groan. The idea of his head between her thighs, tasting her, consuming her, had her inner muscles clenching around his hardness still buried deep inside.
"Ok," she breathed, voice husky with need.
Desmond's smile grew, his hands drifting down to grip her thighs. Carefully, he lifted her off his length, both of them groaning at the loss of connection. But then he was lowering to his knees, the hot spray of the shower cascading over his broad shoulders as he settled between her legs.
Claire's breath caught as he looked up at her through the steam, chocolate eyes dark with hunger. His large hands slid up the backs of her thighs to grip her ass, tugging her closer. Claire braced her hands against the slick tile wall, her breath coming faster in anticipation as Desmond's mouth hovered just inches from her sensitive flesh. She could feel the warmth of his breath teasing her slick folds.
Then his mouth was on her and Claire cried out at the first stroke of his tongue. Slowly, deliberately, he licked a hot path from her entrance up to the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. Claire's hips jerked at the intense sensation, her thighs trembling, but Desmond's strong hands kept her anchored as his mouth worked her over.
He explored her with long, firm licks, tasting her arousal, learning what made her moan and shudder. Claire's head fell back against the tile as Desmond's tongue delved deep, lapping at the evidence of her arousal. Claire gasped, her fingers threading through his short hair, holding him close. His nose brushed against her sensitive nub with each thrust of his tongue, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through her core.
"Oh god." she moaned breathlessly. Her hips rocked against his face, chasing the exquisite sensations. Desmond groaned in approval, the vibrations making her cry out.
He focused his attention on her clit, circling and flicking the swollen bud until Claire was writhing against the wall, completely lost in ecstasy. He slid two fingers inside her dripping heat, curling them to stroke that special spot as he sucked her clit between his lips.
"Desmond, fuck!" Claire keened, her body bowing with the intense pleasure. A low chuckle left his throat.
The combination of Desmond's fingers pumping skillfully inside her and his mouth worshipping her most sensitive spot quickly had Claire hurtling towards another peak. Her thighs trembled, inner muscles fluttering around his fingers as he worked her higher and higher.
"Don't stop, I'm going to..." Her breathless plea dissolved into a sharp cry as Desmond sucked hard on her clit, pushing her over the edge. Ecstasy crashed through her in intense, rolling waves, her body shaking with the force of it. Desmond continued his ministrations, prolonging her climax until she was a whimpering, boneless mess.
Finally, he gentled his touch, lapping soothingly at her quivering flesh as she came down. Claire sagged against the wall, chest heaving, skin flushed from more than just the heat of the water. Desmond pressed one last kiss to her center before he stood, his hands on her hips, steadying her.
Claire trembled against Desmond, her legs unsteady as she came down from the intense high. He held her close, supporting her weight as the warm water cascaded over their heated skin. She clung to his broad shoulders, trying to catch her breath, her face buried against his neck.
After a few moments, she lifted her head to meet his gaze. His chocolate eyes were dark with desire but also soft with tender affection. He brushed a damp strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her flushed cheek.
Claire leaned into Desmond's touch, her heart swelling with emotion at the tenderness in his eyes. She could scarcely believe this was real - that after so many years walled off from intimacy, from trust, she was allowing herself this vulnerability, this connection. With him.
Desmond's hands skimmed down her sides to settle at her hips, his thumbs tracing soothing circles over her wet skin. "How are you feeling?" he murmured, searching her face.
A slow smile spread across Claire's lips. "Amazing," she breathed. "Though I think my legs have turned to jelly."
Desmond chuckled, the sound warm and affectionate. "I'll take that as a compliment." His grin turned playful. "Though we're not done yet. I still need to be inside you again."
Claire's breath caught at Desmond's words, desire sparking through her anew despite her body still trembling from the force of her climax. The heat in his brown eyes, the promise in his voice, had her aching to feel him stretching her again, filling her completely.
Desmond's hands tightened on her hips, his arousal thick and heavy between them. Carefully, mindful of her bruises and shaky legs, he turned her to face the tiled wall. Claire braced her hands against the slick surface, arching her back in silent invitation.
A low groan rumbled from Desmond's chest as he took in the sight of her—glistening wet skin, the tantalizing curve of her spine, the swell of her ass. He stepped close, blanketing her body with his larger form. His hand trailed from her hip to the crook of her knee, bringing her thigh up to open her to him.
Claire gasped as she felt the broad head of Desmond's erection nudging against her entrance from behind. His other hand gripped her hip, holding her steady as he slowly pushed forward, sinking into her wet heat inch by delicious inch.
A small cry of pleasure escaped her lips, as Desmond filled her completely, his thick length stretching her deliciously from this new angle. He paused when he was fully seated inside her, letting her adjust, his forehead resting between her shoulder blades as they both caught their breath.
"God, you feel incredible," he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, letting her set the pace.
Experimentally, Claire rocked her hips, moaning at the exquisite friction as he slid even deeper. Desmond's fingers dug into her hip at the movement, a hiss of pleasure escaping from between clenched teeth.
Taking that as encouragement, Claire began to move in earnest, rolling and circling her hips, reveling in the delicious drag of him inside her. Desmond let her take control for a few moments, his harsh breaths mingling with her soft mewling noises.
Claire's movements gradually built in intensity, her hips undulating faster as pleasure coiled tighter in her core. Water cascaded over their joined bodies, the sensual slide of slick skin and the wet heat surrounding him pushing Desmond closer to the edge.
Unable to hold back any longer, he tightened his grip on her hip and thigh and began to thrust, driving up into her welcoming body with deep, powerful strokes. Claire cried out, her inner muscles clenching around him as he found that perfect spot inside her again and again.
"Harder," she pleaded breathlessly, pushing back to meet his increasingly forceful thrusts.
Desmond growled at her plea, the sound primal and hungry. His hand left her thigh to reach around her body, skimming up her taut stomach to the valley between her breasts before settling at the base of her throat. He didn't squeeze, but used his grip as leverage to pull her back more firmly against him as his hips pistoned faster, driving into her yielding body with near punishing force.
Claire keened, the pressure of his hand on her throat and the relentless pounding of his hips sending her hurtling towards another peak. The rough tile bit into her palms as she braced herself against his thrusts, the slight pain only heightening her pleasure.
"That's it, baby," Desmond rasped in her ear, his hot breath raising goosebumps on her neck despite the steamy air. "Take what you need."
Claire's body bowed as Desmond's thrusts grew more urgent, chasing their mutual release. The steam swirled around them, intensifying every sensation - the scrape of his stubble against her neck as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her slick skin, the hot glide of their joined bodies, the pressure of his hand at the base of her throat.
"Fuck," she moaned, the word drawn out and low in her throat.
His fingers dipped between her thighs, finding the swollen bundle of nerves and rubbing tight circles. The added stimulation had Claire crying out, inner muscles clenching around his pistoning length. Desmond grunted at the increased pressure, his hips snapping harder,.
Claire's climax hit her like a tidal wave, pleasure crashing over her in intense, shuddering pulses. She cried out sharply, body arching as her inner muscles clenched rhythmically around Desmond's pounding length. He groaned deeply against her neck, the rippling pressure of her release pushing him over the edge.
With a final, bruising thrust, Desmond shoved into her and then quickly pulled out, his climax surging through him as he spilled himself across the smooth skin of Claire's lower back. He groaned harshly against her shoulder, hips jerking with the force of his release as hot ropes of his essence painted her glistening skin.
Claire whimpered at the loss of him inside her but shivered with primal satisfaction feeling his release marking her body. The warmth of it contrasted deliciously with the gradually cooling water sluicing over them both as their bodies slowly came down from the intense high.
Desmond's arms wrapped around Claire from behind, holding her trembling form close as they both caught their breath. He peppered gentle kisses along the slope of her shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of her neck as the last shudders of pleasure faded into sated relaxation.
Claire sagged against Desmond's solid frame, her breath coming in short gasps as the last tremors of ecstasy faded away. His strong arms enveloped her, holding her close as the warm water washed over their sated bodies. She felt his heart pounding against her back, the rapid beat gradually slowing to match her own as they both came down from the intense high.
After a few long moments, Claire turned in Desmond's embrace, sliding her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his chest. He tightened his hold, one hand coming up to stroke her damp hair in a tender, soothing motion. Neither of them spoke, words feeling unnecessary in the aftermath of such profound intimacy. The quiet was broken only by the steady patter of water and their soft, mingled breathing.
Claire felt Desmond's fingers gently tilt her chin up, encouraging her to meet his gaze. When she did, she found his warm brown eyes filled with a soft affection that made her heart flutter in her chest. There was no judgement there, no expectation - only patient understanding and a tenderness that threatened to undo her completely.
Desmond's thumb brushed over her cheek, a quiet, tender gesture that conveyed everything he didn't say. Claire felt a softness blooming within her, a warmth that was almost startling in its depth. In his gaze, she saw acceptance, a steady presence that told her he was there, fully, without reservation.
They stayed like that, wrapped in each other, letting the water continue to wash over them, grounding them in the moment. Slowly, Claire shifted, a faint smile touching her lips as she pulled back just enough to reach for the small soap bar resting on the shower ledge. She held it up with a gentle smirk, the simplicity of it making her laugh softly, breaking some of the intensity of the moment.
"We should probably…you know," she murmured, a hint of mischief in her voice as she held the soap between them.
Desmond chuckled, his laughter low and warm, sending a shiver through her even now. "Good idea," he agreed, his voice a quiet rumble as he took the soap from her hands, his fingers lingering against hers for a moment. She could feel his gaze on her, studying her with a softness that made her pulse quicken all over again.
With slow, careful movements, Desmond lathered up his hands, his touch reverent as he ran them over her arms, her shoulders, washing away the evidence of their intimacy. The soap and water mixed with his touch, and she closed her eyes, feeling the gentle care in every movement. His fingers trailed along her collarbone, down her arms, his touch as much an act of devotion as it was a simple gesture of cleansing.
Then, taking the soap from him, she began to do the same, her hands traveling over his chest, his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her palms. It was a quiet, intimate ritual, each of them taking turns washing away the last remnants of their shared passion, leaving only the warmth and comfort of each other's presence.
When they finished, Desmond pulled her back into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water.
Claire tilted her head up, meeting his gaze, her heart swelling with gratitude and something else—something she'd been afraid to name until now. "For what?" she asked, her voice soft, as though afraid speaking too loud might shatter the fragile peace between them.
"For trusting me," he replied, his words simple but carrying a depth that settled in her chest. "For letting me in."
"Just don't make me regret it. I've spent years building up those walls you just so casually destroyed." She whispered, her voice full of hesitancy.
Desmond's hand moved to cup her face, his thumb tracing a gentle line along her cheek as he looked at her, his expression serious and tender. "I promise," he said softly, each word like a vow, "I won't give you a reason to regret it. I know how much this means, how much it took for you to let me in."
Claire's gaze held his, searching his face, a mix of vulnerability and trust shining in her eyes. She'd built those walls out of necessity, out of survival. Letting someone in had been unthinkable for so long, something she'd almost forgotten how to do. But now, here with Desmond, she could feel those walls falling, piece by piece, revealing parts of herself she thought had been lost forever.
She let out a small, shaky breath, her hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palms. "I don't know how to do this," she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I've always been on the run, I never had the chance to stop for something like…this."
Desmond's expression softened, a warmth in his eyes that settled her nerves. His hands moved gently along her sides, his touch grounding her, as though he understood just how much she needed it.
"We'll go slow," he said, his voice as steady as his touch. "We don't have to know what it is or where it's going. We just…let it happen."
She closed her eyes, letting his words sink in, a balm to the lingering fears that clung to her. For so long, every connection she'd made had felt like a liability, a risk, a vulnerability waiting to be exploited. But Desmond's presence, the quiet strength he offered, was unlike anything she'd ever known. It didn't feel like a trap or a weakness. It felt like a choice, one she could step into at her own pace.
When she opened her eyes, she found him watching her, his gaze unwavering and patient. She traced her fingers lightly along his jaw, marveling at the quiet power in the simplicity of his touch and the calm he brought to her storm.
"I'm not used to things that don't have a plan," she said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "But maybe that's not so bad…not with you."
Desmond grinned, his fingers brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. "I think we're allowed a bit of uncertainty." He paused, his tone growing softer. "Besides, I like the idea of learning as we go."
Claire smiled, feeling a lightness that was new, unfamiliar but welcome. Desmond's words lingered in her mind, filling her with a warmth that spread through her chest. She leaned up, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, savoring the simple intimacy of the moment. It was a kiss filled with quiet promises, a mutual understanding that neither of them would rush this, that whatever they built would be theirs, free from fear or urgency.
When they finally parted, she looked at him with a soft, grateful smile before reaching over to turn off the water, the final echo of their time together fading as the spray ceased. The silence that followed was comfortable, a shared peace that felt like an unspoken vow between them.
Claire glanced around, her eyes landing on a small cupboard by the sink. She opened it, and to her relief, found a few folded towels stacked inside. She handed one to Desmond, pausing to shake hers out just to be safe, a faint laugh escaping her as she did. Desmond smirked, following her lead, his towel snapping in the air with a flourish.
They wrapped themselves in the towels, the soft, worn fabric absorbing the lingering warmth from the shower. The moment felt surreal, standing there side by side, both dressed in nothing but the simple towels, an intimacy that felt natural rather than forced.
As they dried off and wrapped themselves in the towels, Claire felt an easy, comfortable intimacy settle over them—a quiet connection that didn't need words. She turned toward her duffle, pulling out a new outfit: a fitted black crop top layered with a loose-knit, oversized sweater that hinted at her shape without fully revealing it, paired with distressed black jeans that clung to her legs. She felt both confident and at ease as she slipped into her usual boots, grounding herself in the familiar feel of them.
Desmond, meanwhile, dressed quickly and efficiently, pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and a fitted black T-shirt. As he shrugged into a new hoodie—black, understated, and well-worn—she couldn't help but admire the casual confidence in his movements, the way he seemed to embody strength without even trying. The simplicity suited him, and she felt a quiet thrill at the sight, as if seeing him with new eyes after everything they'd shared.
When they were finally dressed, Claire caught his gaze, a knowing smile flickering on her lips. There was something profoundly satisfying in the casualness of the moment, the way they moved around each other with ease, comfortable and unguarded in a way she hadn't imagined possible.
"Ready?" he asked, his eyes warm, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
She nodded, feeling a surge of confidence. "Yeah. Let's go."
They gathered their things and stepped into the early morning light, the town still wrapped in the soft hush of dawn. Desmond reached for her hand, their fingers intertwining naturally, and as they walked together, Claire felt something new and fragile settle within her—a peace she'd been chasing for years, now finally within reach.
As they walked back toward the sanctuary, their duffle bags slung over their shoulders, Claire shivered slightly as the cold morning wind caught in her damp hair, sending a chill down her spine. Desmond glanced at her, his expression a mix of concern and amusement, and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over her jacket in a subtle, reassuring gesture. She appreciated the warmth of his touch, even if they both knew they had to keep up appearances once they were back.
When the entrance to the sanctuary came into view, Claire felt Desmond's fingers gently slip from hers, both of them instinctively dropping their hands to their sides before stepping inside. It was a silent, mutual decision, a quiet understanding that their newfound closeness was something precious, something to be savored just between them for now.
They'd barely set foot into the main room when Shaun and Rebecca looked up, both of them sporting expressions that were somewhere between amusement and exasperation.
"Finally!" Shaun drawled, raising an eyebrow as he looked between the two of them. "We were beginning to think you'd decided to move to Rome."
Rebecca smirked, leaning against the desk with her arms crossed. "Seriously, guys, what took so long? It's freezing out there. Did you get lost?"
Desmond rolled his eyes, dropping his duffle bag near the wall with a faint thud. "We had to search practically every house in the area to find one with working plumbing," he said, his tone exasperated but playful. "You two could have mentioned that detail before sending us on a wild goose chase."
"Ah, I see," Shaun said, his lips twitching with a barely restrained grin. "So, it was all for the noble cause of basic hygiene, then?"
Claire gave Shaun a pointed look, her expression steady but with the faintest hint of a smirk. "Believe it or not, some of us appreciate a hot shower once in a while," she replied dryly. She ran a hand through her damp hair, trying to ignore the way the chill still lingered on her scalp.
Rebecca chuckled, her gaze flicking between Claire and Desmond with a knowing glint in her eyes. "Well, at least you're both back and not frozen solid. And hey, next time, maybe bring a hat. Looks like that wind didn't do your hair any favors, Claire."
Claire gave Rebecca a playful glare, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "Noted," she replied, her tone light but her eyes flashing with amusement.
Desmond gave her a slight nudge with his shoulder as they moved further into the room, their hands no longer intertwined but the connection between them still palpable, a quiet warmth shared in each glance. It was as though the sanctuary's walls held an unspoken agreement, protecting the intimacy they'd found, keeping it close without exposing it to the curious gazes of their friends.