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If someone asked him if he believed in God at that exact moment, he’d have said yes.

He knew he was talking to her, holding her cheek in his hand and murmuring sweetly to her to get her to relax, but he had no idea what he was saying. He was too focused on not moving until she’d had a moment or ten to adjust to him being inside of her. He was also afraid if he moved even an inch, he’d come.

It was otherworldly. His temples and neck and back were covered in a light sheen of sweat as he fought for control of his body, but she was as tight as a vice, her inner muscles contracting at the invasion and fighting to push him out. He was right on the edge, afraid that he wouldn’t even make it to ‘one pump chump’ for her first time…

“It’s too big,” she choked out, her nails digging into his back. “You’re… too big.”

“You're sweet, baby…” he murmured against her lips. “But.. are you… okay?”

“It hurts,” she said sharply, “more than I thought… a lot more… but…” she pulled him closer and he let his head drop into her neck, “it’s still better than I ever imagined… being full of you…”

He groaned and his hips circled involuntarily, just a tiny bit. She hissed, and he was pretty sure her nails were breaking his skin, but he didn’t care. He circled again, small and slow, and heard her start to pant.

“Are you… going to move… a bit… more?” she asked breathlessly.

“Normally, yeah? But, um… I think if I move too much right this second I’ll just come, and then, you know… that’s pretty disappointing…”

He felt pressure on his chest as she pushed him back a little, her eyes glassy with both pain and pleasure, her lips swollen and red from kissing.

“Shane, this isn’t disappointing. You could never be disappointing,” she murmured.

He circled his hips again and her mouth fell open.

“Fish face,” he whispered.

“Shut the fuck up,” she whispered back, biting his lip and then kissing him, hard.

He started to move in earnest, then, sliding out of her, her body tensing and pulling away at what he was sure was probably a lot of pain, but as he sank back in she relaxed, her hips meeting his, her fingers on his pecs and her tongue in his mouth.

He repeated the motion, this time both of them making an unintelligible noise that probably didn’t sound human.

As he started to rock into her, he felt one of her heels circle up and around his hip, digging into his ass cheek.

“I want you to speed up,” she said, urging him with her heel.

He didn’t fight her, increasing his speed, sweat rolling down his back in earnest, their foreheads damp and their bodies sticky.

Her other foot found his ass too, and she pushed harder.

“Laney, I’m trying to be gentle…” he moaned, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck. Her tongue darted out and caught it.

“ Fuck gentle,” she said. “Be you.”

He unleashed himself on her.

She held on for dear life as he pumped into her so hard he thought he might split her in half. He was fucking her body right off the mattress, up towards the headboard, her arms darting above her head for leverage to keep him from slamming the top of her skull into the wall. He thrust so hard that his back ached, and his knees burned from the friction against the textured duvet, and he felt like his neck and wrists were going to snap.

She started making strange little noises in his ear, like she was trying to talk but couldn’t form words.

“Fuck,” he moaned, “ fuck…”

He could feel her inner muscles start to clench and spasm around his cock, a frantic resistance, trying to push his body out of her.

“Shane?” she whimpered in his ear, like she wasn’t sure what was happening.

“Come with me, baby,” he told her. “Come with me…”

And she did. As he tipped over the edge of the world, surrendering to the darkness of the universe with a roar, he felt her explode around his cock, wave after wave of spasms milking him dry, their bodies wringing each other out with vehemence.

He collapsed onto her, exhausted, and even though he knew he was crushing her they just lay there like that for a minute, catching their breath, as Laney’s hands found their way into his damp hair, stroking his head softly, tenderly. He kissed the inside of her elbow, the only place he could reach without moving.

“Hi,” she said sweetly, her face glowing, staring at him like she’d never seen him before.

“Hi,” he said back, easing himself out of her, both of them wincing but smiling. He rolled off her body, collapsing onto his back and staring at the ceiling, his breath still a little uneven.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, sounding startled. His head whipped around, and she withdrew her hand from between her legs where she’d clearly been taking a feel of the soreness, and the wetness. Her fingers were covered in blood. “There’s so much…” she said, sounding embarrassed. “God, I’m so sorry… I…”

He rolled onto his side and slid his hand between her legs, watching her face carefully as her nose crinkled. She was obviously really sore, and he was gentle and careful as he softly and sweetly ran his first and middle fingers over her pussy, careful not to sink inside her, and then held it up for her, his fingers covered in her blood, too.

“It doesn’t bother me, Laney,” he said. “Nothing your body does will ever bother me. Okay?”

She blushed and tucked her head into his chest, but he could feel her smiling, and they stayed like that for a long time.

“I think I need a shower,” she said eventually.

“Mm…” he agreed, kissing the top of her head.

She stretched, grimacing in pain. As she stood, he saw a little bit of blood on her thighs and the dark stain on the black duvet where she’d soaked the bed from his mouth, and then bled on it…

“I’ll be there in a minute, baby,” he said. She padded off to the bathroom and he watched her naked back and ass disappear around the corner, feeling like the luckiest sonofabitch on planet earth.

He stood, pulling off the condom with his bloodied fingers and tossing it in the garbage, and reached for the phone with his other hand. He dialed the lobby.

“Hotel Moss,” came a female voice.

“Yeah, hi, this is Shane Mathers in room 1428?”

“What can I do for you Mr. Mathers?”

“Um… we need a new duvet.”

“Oh! Um, there are temperature controls in the room under the window if you’re cold…”

“We aren’t cold,” he said, amusement colouring his voice.

She cleared her throat. “Yes, of course, um, I’ll have that sent right up for you.”

“Thanks,” he said, and hung up with a chuckle.

Laney was stepping into the large glass steam shower as he entered the bathroom. He leaned against the doorframe, watching the hot water pour down her face, her hair, her naked body. The water around her feet was slightly pink as it rinsed away her blood.

He stepped in with her, greedy for the feel of her skin in his hands, and she turned around and looked up at him with those huge, shining green eyes, her mascara running, water streaming down her neck…

I’m going to marry you… he thought.

Her eyes widened and he froze with a combination of panic and mortification. Sometimes, the strange psychic connection between them was useful, like when he was learning about her body, about what made her feel good… but times like this made him want to stick a paper bag over his head until he died.

“Yes,” she said out loud.

He blushed, his whole body turning red.

“That wasn’t a proposal, Laney,” he said wryly.

“Don’t be stupid,” she said, “of course it was.”

He pushed her wet hair back off her shoulders, his thumbs tracing her collarbones, a smile playing at his lips.

“When I propose to you, I promise I’ll be on one knee.”

She gripped the top of his head with her hand, pushing him playfully downwards.

“There’s more than one thing you can do from your knees, Shane,” she said.

He was happy to oblige.