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I let him grind me into the floor, the only thing between me and a bruised as hell tailbone, his hand.

His knuckles have to be getting ground into dust, but he keeps going, pulling out of me and slamming in again.

I fight to get closer, driving myself over his length while he strains above me.

I open my eyes just for a fraction of a second to appreciate the muscles in his neck straining, his jaw locked, his abs flexing against his shirt as he moves.

He doesn’t need to be painted to be a work of art.

He’s a masterpiece, even more beautiful for the pain, the scars, the years that he’s lived.

Beads of sweat roll down his temples. I hate air conditioning and only turn it on when the house gets stifling.

It’s hot in here and we’re hot, turning into a sticky mess with every whimper and thrust. His t-shirt is damp with sweat when I set my hand on his back.

He drives into me, and I meet him for every thrust. We’re wet there too, loud, and it’s delicious.

I love that when Dravin needs air, he gasps for it right near my ear and then sinks his teeth into my neck, biting and kissing me.

He fucks me harder through my own harsh breaths until they turn into little whimpers.

I’m so full and it goes from feeling amazing to something even beyond that.

Something that suffuses my whole body to the point of painful intensity.

Another few minutes and I’m nearly out of my mind. I’m soaking wet and so is Dravin. He’s so uncontrolled that it’s borderline animalistic. We’ve moved a few feet from where we were, driving along the floor every time he fills me.

My first orgasm was fast and so blissful that I lost myself, but this one I have to work for. I adjust my hips, letting every hard thrust slam into me from a new angle, so that Dravin’s pelvis scrapes along my clit. The new sensation sends white hot light flashing down my thighs.

“Dravin…” I hold onto his damp shoulders and then fist my hand in his hair, rubbing my face along his, collecting all his sweat along my cheek and temple before I turn and lick him. I gather the salt of him on my tongue and spit it back on his lips when he turns to kiss me.

He freezes, and for a second I think I’ve gone too far. I don’t know what on earth made me want to do that, but something did. The animal part of me that needed something absolutely feral.

His tongue sweeps out and licks my saliva off his lips. He remains still for another heartbeat and then he explodes into movement, driving into me, grabbing my ass in both hands to skewer me on his cock, driving me back and forth until I’m half raw with the pace of it.

“I’m going to come,” I moan as the first ripples hit, a different burn infusing my skin and lightning roaring through my veins. The electricity gathers like a storm.

I turn my face and bite down into Dravin’s shoulder, the salt of his t-shirt exploding over my tongue, my scream half smothered in the fabric.

There’s coming and then there’s what the fuck, holy god, Jesus Christ, what the hell is this, and am I going to survive it?

I just hold tight and grind my teeth and breathe when I can.

I let it build and build and break me apart, especially as Dravin fucks into me harder and harder with every thrust until he pulls out, groaning as he wraps his hand around his cock and comes all over my stomach, my thighs, and my breasts.

There’s really no control as he jacks himself.

The intensity of it and the hate of getting covered like that renders me just about speechless and totally incoherent.

I’ve never seen anything so base, filthy, and hot before. He just fucked me like an animal on the floor and covered me in cum, and I am here for it . I was there for it a few minutes ago too, when I was every bit as wildly animalistic in my need as he was.

Now that he’s coming down from the high of the climax and the temporary insanity of such wild need, his face is doing that thing I don’t like.

He’s retreating back into himself, into that proper place with boundaries and walls that I can’t tear down or leap over.

I found a way through this once, and I thought that it could be a beautiful thing, but he’s panicking.

I sit up and grab him, throwing my arms around his neck and clinging to him shamelessly. I give him a full body hug with all my limbs, getting my legs back around his waist.

“We’ll get through this,” I promise him.

“Just like we’ve got through everything else in our lives.

It’ll be better because we have each other and there’s power in the old two are better than one cliché.

I know it’s a lot, but don’t bail on me now.

We’re already in this way too deep with each other.

We were in it long before we knew we wanted each other. ”

The only answer I get is silence, and then a grunt right near my ear that is as close to a nonanswer as there ever was.

“Don’t tell me that you want to let go right now. Or that you want me to let go. This feels good. It feels like I want to do this forever. A hug that goes on and on until we’re both skeletons on the floor. It would make a good meme one day, I’m sure.”

“Christ, that’s morbid as fuck, Kael.”

“You know what’s not? The best orgasms of my life.

Feeling the way you let go. Being vulnerable and having you there to keep me safe.

Don’t give me any bullshit about why we can’t do this.

There is no can’t. There’s literally not one single reason that I’ll accept.

I’ve had the worst happen to me already. I’m not afraid of anything else.”

That’s a lie.

I am scared.

Not for myself, because I know that Dravin will do anything to keep me safe. Maybe that’s the real moment I started falling for him. When I realized that he was more than capable of keeping his promise. Maybe all my grand plans of escape were me trying to outrun myself .

I’m terrified of letting go just enough to let someone close, to let them in with everything that I am, and then to lose them. Being hurt is one thing. I could survive that. But something happening to Dravin? Already, even after such a short amount of time, that’s unthinkable.

You know all those dumb sayings online about protect this person or that person at all costs, usually said by rabid superfans?

Maybe I’m a fucking fangirl. I’m a fangirl of Dravin staying healthy and alive and of getting to know him properly.

Of finding out the little things he likes.

Of what makes him happy. Of learning how he thinks.

Maybe parts of his past are off limits to me and the rest of the world. I can deal with that.

What I can’t deal with is him locking himself away and not letting me inside.

“I know that you think that you know what’s best for me, but respectfully, you’re wrong. If I don’t, you don’t. Maybe we can figure it out together. Not just for me, but for you as well. We’re kind of a package deal now. Percentage sharing, remember?”

His eyes practically cross.

I pinch him behind the neck, mostly to ground him and keep him from leaping out of his skin. The only way I can think of to deal with this is humor. There’s no sense getting mad about someone else’s insecurities. Not even trying to understand where they’re coming from is just wrong.

And I’ve spent days trying to figure that out.

Days down the dirty rabbit hole of endless looping thoughts.

I’d really like to get out of my head and I think he does too.

“Come on. I know you didn’t come here to just dirty me up and leave. I’m not that convincing.”

He groans, but he does set his forehead against mine in the most beautiful gesture of solidarity. Relief rushes into me in a flood. I can breathe again.

“I hate the term go slow, or baby steps. That’s so annoying. Nothing kills artistic spirit like token shit or getting shoved into a box. But boxes are for fucking packing things in and normal is just a token setting on… I don’t even know.”

“Washers?”

“Is it? Oh my god!”

He laughs. Actually laughs so that a puff of air washes over my face and his belly raises off of mine and touches down again. My whole being vibrates with the sound of his laughter. Vibrates with sheer happiness.

I know that trust is a dangerous thing. Joy is too. Bliss. These are all things that hurt immeasurably more when they’re taken away. I know that. It didn’t stop me from sharing this with Dravin and wanting to do it again. Not even the fear of future grief and more pain could hold me back.

“Want to have a shower and get a cup of tea?” He’s not the kind of man who seems like he could ever be afraid of anything, but underneath those scars and his fearsome, ultra masculine exterior, is a soft heart. “Public service announcement—your clothing is now covered in…erm…”

“Right. I’ll throw them into the washer and double check, but I’m sure the cycle says normal on it.”

“I think it’s regular, actually. But you’ll… stay? For a bit?”

I hold my breath when he doesn’t immediately respond, but then his face tilts to me and it’s full of tenderness. “Even if I have to run out of here naked, I should damn well leave, but we both know that I’m not going to do that.”

“Let me put some music on.” I haven’t forgotten that he likes it. “Whatever you think is good because I have no idea. I’ll move the speaker into the bathroom, and you can focus on that instead of trying to pretend that this isn’t vastly awkward.”

His forehead presses against mine. “If we’re showering, the last thing I’m going to be focused on is the music. Not with you naked, right in front of me.”

“Technically, I could stand behind you. I could wash your hair. Conditioner it too. Give you the whole spa treatment.”

He groans. “Kael—”

“It’s rage music, isn’t it? It would pretty hard to ignore that.”

“Kael.”

“What?”