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An invisible coil breaks. They lurch, their mouths clamping together. Her lips pry his open, and his tongue swoops inside, licking her into oblivion.

The rhythmic flex of his tongue wrings a fractured moan from Sorrow as she matches him, taste for taste. Her digits claw into his roots and pull him closer. Their mouths slope, folding into one another, opening and sealing.

Writhing on their sides, his thigh pushes between hers. He splays her apart so that his leg grinds against her pelvis, the undulation producing white spots of flame behind her eyelids. In her core, a harrowing clench begins, pulsating and begging.

Sorrow hooks her leg over his hip and rocks back. More than her own desire, his groan is the highlight. The more she hears, the harsher her need.

She wants to love him, tie him up, tangle him up. She wants to break him into pieces like no one ever has, make him come louder and harder than he thought himself capable of. She wants his back to arch. She wants those hazel eyes to roll until he can’t remember who the fuck he’s been with prior, until he can’t remember that they’ve ever done this before.

Then she wants to rile him up all over again.

And again. And forever.

She wants to share herself. She wants to claim him.

Envy growls, the noise radioactive, like he hears her thoughts. He answers that call, hoisting her on top of him and then rising to a sitting position. The frenzied motion and the possessive sheen in his irises send tingles up her spine.

They pant against each other’s lips, their mouths trembling with a violent sort of yearning, their hands groping for clothes. Instead of unbuttoning his shirt, she peels it clean over his head.

His torso twitches, his flesh burnished in the half-light. Envy throws his head back as she sucks on his neck, her lips marking a trail down the center, catching each hitch of muscles. Her teeth pinch his dark nipples, until he curses and seizes her mouth once more, their tongues lashing.

Reeling away, Envy pops open her vest, her breasts dropping free. Her own nipples peak beneath his smoldering gaze. His pupils explode, traveling over the swells of her and then sweeping the garment fully from her arms. As he does so, he caresses each cut with his lips.

The affectionate gesture seizes Sorrow by the lungs. She gulps, a frightening emotion taking shape within her. It’s pure in taste and scent, like a clear spring.

When Envy straightens, she grabs his face and kisses him. He raises her so that she’s suspended higher, angling her mouth down onto his. She licks into Envy, swatting his tongue into a frenzy.

The male groan rumbling down her throat intensifies the craving. Her skirt flares around their hips, where his prick stiffens. That he longs for her in this way douses Sorrow with a heady dose of pride.

Only when he emits a pleading sound does she release his mouth. Heaving for oxygen, Envy’s hooded eyes rove over Sorrow. There’s a distinct possibility that she might expire from his expression, or from the drag of his thumbs around her nipples, causing the buds to tighten.

Envy taunts her lips with a brief, open-mouthed kiss, then moves to her chin, using the contact to urge her head back. Securing her waist, he ducks and hooks his lips around the first rosy tip. Sorrow whines, the reverberation hitting the cave’s ceiling and then swallowed by the rush of waterfalls.

She bows, gripping his nape for leverage and pressing herself into him. The wet tug of his mouth, punctuated by the jolt of his hips between hers, is a new type of misery. A delicious one that plucks at her center, the spot growing slick and starting to throb.

Humming, he swabs at the tip. Sorrow’s pulse goes ballistic, her whimpers escalating to cries. Any more of this, and her kneecaps will crack.

Envy seems to be aware of that, because he takes pity and switches to the opposite breast. Not that it calms her down. He works her into hysterics, works himself into a tangent.

All at once, he surrenders her nipple and gathers her to him, their chests flush and damp from the mist. His skin tints, as ruddy as her own. Their hearts turn into battering rams, threatening to plow through bone.

Envy links his fingers with hers, fitting them together and giving her a smile that’s equally sheepish and insolent. Sorrow examines their interwoven hands, devastated by the visual. So this is what their stubbornness has been missing out on? This is what they’ve denied themselves?

Who knew it would feel this way? How have they gone without it for so long?

It’s never been like this with anyone. It’s never been this destructive, this sensual, this private, this joyous.

The pause is fleeting but crucial. They snap into motion again, unable to wait, too exasperated to bother undressing further. Sorrow helps him, her digits wild as they fumble with his trousers, releasing the closure.

All the while, their eyes remain locked, clicking into place.

They shimmy the pants just enough to expose him. His length springs free, lightly skimming the flesh at her center. Envy hisses, and she seethes, the contact wetting her anew.

Under the fan of her skirt, he palms her ass, and they wiggle to adjust themselves. With her thighs astride his, their pelvises bump into one another. He’s firm against her curls, poised and pent-up at her entrance.

Envy sucks air through his nostrils. His Adam’s apple bobs, his eyes skimming hers.

Sorrow trembles. She’s nervous, as if this is their first time.