Page 22 of Fated, Allegedly

"You are the most infuriating…"

"Erin."

"I want you." She says it steady, chin up, exactly like she read me a tibia. "Tonight. Because I choose to, not because either of us might die, though I'm aware I've made the argument badly."

I cross the floor and I take her face in my hands the same as I did on the ridge, and I kiss her, and everything I have been holding for four weeks lets go at once.

She gasps against my mouth. Her hands come up into my shirt and fist there, and the blanket falls off her shoulders, and she's cold everywhere. I get my hands in her hair. She bites my lower lip, entirely on purpose, and laughs when I swear.

"Slow," I manage.

"Absolutely not."

"Your ribs…"

"Are yellow and I am fine, and if you handle me like an injured deer I'll never forgive you."

So I don't, my mouth crashes back onto hers and I push her backward onto the rough floorboards, the blanket bunching under her spine. She's already shoving my shirt up my chest; I yank it the rest of the way off and toss it somewhere. Her skin is soft and reactive to my touch, under my hands she begins to warm up fast. I get the buttons of her shirt open one-handed while my other hand works the laces of her trousers. She kicks them down her legs, boots and all, and then she's bare against the wood, pale and marked and breathing hard.

I get my own trousers open and shove them down just far enough. My cock springs free, already thick and aching, and she reaches for it without hesitation. Her fingers close around me and she strokes me, slow, thumb sweeping over the head. I groan into her mouth and push two fingers between her thighs. She's wet, open, and her pussy is soft and hot. I slide one finger in, then two, curling them while my thumb finds her clit and circles. She arches, ribs be damned, and rocks onto my hand.

“Ah yes, yes.” She mewls, her words spurring me on.

I kiss down her throat, bite the hinge of her jaw, then lower, taking one nipple into my mouth and sucking hard while my fingers keep working her. She's wet enough that it coats my palm. I add a third finger and she makes a broken sound, hips lifting. I keep the pressure steady on her clit, rubbing in tight little circles until her thighs start to shake.

“Nash, I’m.. I’m…”

She comes with a silent gasp, a long, shuddering exhale and her pussy clamping hard around my fingers. I work her through it, slower now, until she pulls at my wrist.

I shift over her, knees between her spread thighs, and drag the head of my cock over her, wetting myself. She's still pulsing, and I notch against her entrance and push in with one long, controlled thrust. The heat of her pussy swallows me, tight and slick, and I pull far out with a low sound that feels dragged up from somewhere deep. She hooks her heels behind my thighs and pulls me deeper.

I start to move, slow at first, long strokes that let me feel every inch of her gripping me, then harder when she digs her nails into my back.

"Faster," she asks.

I increase my pace, and the floorboards creak under us. I brace one forearm beside her head and use the other hand to keep her hips tilted so every thrust drags across the place that makes her gasp. Her pussy flutters around my cock; I can feel how close she already is again.

Her eyes roll, and her lips part, moans leaving as I hit deep. She grips me tightly, and opens her eyes staring into me, and comes. I lean down and kiss her, fucking her thorugh her orgasm. The vibration of her moans against my lips. She brings her mouth to my shoulder and bites it, her body clenches and a raw sound leaves me.

I get harder and she screams, my hips rolling and grinding against her clit on every downstroke, and the wet sound of skin on skin fills the shack. I hitch her thigh higher over my hip and drive deeper, my cock hitting that spot inside her that makes her voice break.

"Nash," she says my name, soft and wrecked.

I can feel the pressure building at the base of my spine, the way her pussy keeps tightening in little rhythmic pulses. I reach between us and rub her clit with two fingers, matching the pace of my thrusts. She shatters again, harder this time, and the rhythmic squeeze of her body around my cock is too much. I bury myself and come with a low, punched-out groan. I drop my head and hold her cheek, still thrusting slower now as my cock expands and her pussy clenches.

I stay there for a long moment, forehead pressed to hers, both of us breathing hard. My cock is still half-hard inside her, twitching with aftershocks. Eventually I ease out; the wet slide makes us both shiver. I drop onto my side and pull her against me, careful of the bruises I know are under the yellowing skin of her ribs. She tucks her face into my throat. Outside, the wind moves through the trees. Inside, the only sound is our breathing evening out. I drag the blanket over both of us and keep one hand splayed low on her back, feeling the steady rise and fall of her. There's nothing left that needs saying right now.

I lift her off the floor and she wraps her legs around me as I carry us to the bunk, and she falls asleep almost instantly.

Morning comes gray through the one window, and she's on my chest with her hand curled under her chin.

She wakes when the stove ticks. I watch her surface, work out where she is, and decide about it, I can see the whole process cross her face.

"Well," she says.

"Well."

"I'd like it on the record that I've been awake seconds and I haven't panicked."