[ooc: Warning! SMUT!]

[locks_it_up]

Her place, then.

It's not much changed, because this is the way she likes it, by and large. There's sunlight slanting through the windows, deep gold and warm, because she likes that, too.

It's almost shy, the way she leads him toward her bedroom. The bed's a little messy, red and pink and purple, with a stuffed turtle laying near the pillows.

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[locks_it_up]

She tries, again, to breathe.

It catches in her throat.

The warmth, yes, and the slickness of her skin on his, yes, and she can feel the throbbing pulse of him all through her, yes, hard and hot and yes.

She moves with him now, in a dance that she has seen from the beginning, and oh how lovely the steps, moving now with him, around him, fingers splayed over that battered and brief flesh that she knows so well.

The syllables that try to find their way out of her throat are all affirmation.

[mnt_raph]

*It's all her. Every sight. Every smell. Every sensation. All her. He would gladly lose himself in her. In this. It could be almost discribed as pure joy, if not for the driving need for more.

More pressure. More friction. More of those sweet noises that escape from her lips, the ones that sound like his name.*

[locks_it_up]

She takes her time with this. Takes him deep within her, moves her hips in time with a pulse and a rhythm almost as old as she is.

She's shaking, her arms around him, her body pressed against his, and she arches her throat up to moan his name into his ear. His real name.

Oh the depth. Oh. Oh, lord, he's inside of her and moving, moving, and she can feel every inch of him and it's still not quite enough and she strains her hips against his and--

--and they fit. Against all logic and against her brother's book, they fit.

The sound from her throat is like a song. The way her body shudders and the way she tightens around him is the warmest embrace she can give.

[mnt_raph]

*Every part of him is awake and alive. Nerves he didn't know existed are firing away in combinations he's never dreamed. It's like flying and being rooted to the ground at the same time. Falling and being caught. Danger without the fear.

It's like that kiss from the time he'd rather forget. His whole life at once. Rushing past him. Through him.

He tries to tell himself to slow down, but it's too late for that. He's too close for that. The edge is with in his grasp. The breaking point.

It overtakes him, seizes him, and is not gentle in doing so. He can't even cry out, doing so would require breath that he can't even begin to draw.*

[locks_it_up]

One final arch of back and shudder of body and twitching squeeze of him, one final gasping moan, and she breaks like a tidal wave, a wave of warmth and wet and oh oh oh yes...

...and it's done.

And she's left gasping, reaching for breath that she does not own, has no claim to.

They lay like that for some little time, her hands still running gentle over his back before he extricates himself from her, leaving an emptiness she mourns for a moment before turning and snuggling against him.

She smiles down and takes his face in her hands, thumbs brushing over cheekbones, tips of fingers in his hair. So very brief, and so precious.

"I love you."

And then... then she lowers her lips to his, and kisses him.

In this way, she takes him into her, in a way that no man but him has been through and come back to tell of it.

She swallows him whole.