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This.
Him and me.
So I said, “I love you. No matter what happens.”
His expression stuttered and broke. He turned his face toward the sky. His chest hitched, but he got it under control. “Me too.”
I rose slowly, pushing myself off the ground. I looked down at him spread out on the grass, naked and comfortable.
I held out my hand.
He didn’t hesitate.
I led him toward the house.
He followed me up the stairs to our bedroom. It was just as we’d left it. His duty belt hung off the back of a chair near the desk. The closet door was open, our clothes hanging together, our scents mingling. Two stone wolves sat on the windowsill, pressed together.
It was here. Us. The evidence of a life lived together. I was scared, but fear only strengthened my resolve.
He closed the door behind us, shutting us away from the world. He leaned against it and looked at me.
I let my gaze trail over him, stopping at the mark on his neck.
My mark.
A fiery sense of satisfaction rose within me, seeing it there. Knowing what it meant.
“Like what you see?” he asked.
“More than you know,” I said honestly. Then, “Are you… okay with this? I know sex isn’t—”
“Asexual people have sex,” he said quietly.
“I know. But I don’t want to force you to do something you don’t want to do. I need you to be okay. That’s more important.”
He pushed himself off the door. “Strange.”
“What?”
He chuckled. “You said the same thing to me the first time we had sex. That you were worried that you were making me do something I didn’t want to do. I loved you for it then, and I love you for it now.”
“Oh,” I said, face growing warm. I scratched the back of my neck. “I guess some things don’t change.”
“I guess they don’t,” he agreed, taking a step toward me.
I stepped back. My legs bumped into the edge of the bed. I sat down.
He stood in front of me, miles and miles of skin on display.
There was heat here, rumbling within me, low and warm, almost like fire.
He lifted my shirt up and over my head, then let it fall to the floor.
He pressed a hand against my chest, pushing me back on the bed.
He crawled on top of me, hands on either side of my head, knees against my hips.
He leaned down and kissed me, long and slow. He deepened the kiss slightly, his tongue swiping against my lips, but he didn’t push further.
