The way you said “I love you.“
11. With a shuddering gasp
It starts with a laugh, spurred from the tickle of his stubble on her neck. He loves that sound; it’s light as a feather, carefree as birdsong, and he smiles against the soft of her skin.
A portion of the morning sun bathes the small room in golden light. Her gently tanned skin, copper hair, glows under its touch; the smile on her lips brightens her features all the more. And when she tilts her head to look at him, he meets those radiant eyes with a wider smile, and another soft kiss to the slope of her shoulder.
“Mmm,” she hums, breathy and quiet, reaching back and pulling her long hair away from him as he continues the trail of kisses to her spine. “It’s so early… this is unusual for you.”
“Color me impatient,” he mutters, snaking one hand around the curve of her waist. She sighs and turns a little in the bed so the sheets slide down her arms, and her hair veils what he can see of her bare chest. He tugs on her waist a little but she remains rooted, the corners of her lips curving up in the most gorgeous of ways. She sighs again, at least giving him a tilt of her head as his kisses glide to the lobe of her ear.
“Oooh, tu pauvre homme,” she purrs.
He nuzzles the nape of her neck, kissing the spot and running his hand along her waist. She sighs again and leans into it, ever so slightly; he can feel her shiver a little against the touch. She turns, sudden, and pushes him down to the bed with a flattened palm. He falls back without resistance, and she leans over him and kisses his forehead and the bridge of his nose and the scruffy tip of his chin. Her hand drags from his chest to his arm, its pressure lightening as her fingertips graze the left over wrappings and bandages from expeditions past. A frown curves her lips. “Tu devriez être au repos …”
“You know I don’t understand the French, Ky,” he sighs, this time. He eyes her, gaze now uncertain, and his expression softens. “Please stop worrying about the arm. It was just a brush with a tree. Doesn’t even hurt much anymore.”
Her frown settles to a line. “I don’t want you to prevent yourself from healing.”
“Being with you is healing.”
She reached behind him and snatched a pillow, lightly chucking it in his face. “Toi idiot.”
He laughs, catching it before it collides with his nose and holding it over his head. “Okay, I understood that bit.” The pillow is dropped back into place and he lets out a loud sigh, folding his good arm behind his head and looking up at her. “But in all seriousness, Ky.”
She’d folded her arms and turned to sit on the edge of the bed, but now turns to face him again. Something in those fierce eyes softens; her shoulders sink, and she crawls back over him, settling herself on his hips. He inhales as she does, his own smile gentling as she crosses her arms on his collar and sets her chin atop them. She studies him a moment. Then, she inhales and sits up a little. Her hands roam his chest, sliding slowly up his collar until she cups his face in her hands. His eyes slip closed as she leans in and presses a kiss to his lips, and he exhales thickly when she pulls away. His arm pulls from under his head to wrap around her, but she reaches up and pushes it back down. He smiles against the next kiss.
It won’t go much farther than this, he knows. And he’s alright with that. Just the touch of her lips, the feel of her breath on his skin as she kisses down his jawline, is more than enough. It’s been so long–too long–since they had a morning like this together. And he basks in it, letting himself sink into the old mattress. She shifts against him and he grunts from deep in his throat, tilting his head back to allow her lips to pepper his neck. His eyes open half-way, and he finds himself staring wistfully out the single window.
Outside, he could see their ‘horizon’. The looming wall that blocks most of the morning sun from slipping into their room.
He remembers back to that late afternoon when he helped babysit a number of the neighborhood children for her. The kids all knew of the status of their relationship ( and boy did those kids enjoy being nosy ). They’d begun to suggest ways he could propose to her–settings ranging from a flower-speckled mountain side to proposing on the very bodies of titans he had freshly slayed. It brings him back to the ring he kept an eye on in the shop at the far corner of the market. The absent thoughts of a life outside of the walls. A life free of fear and lurking danger. The life he dreamed of. The life he fought for. Now, lying beneath her, under the ginger touch of her lips, it seemed strangely so close. Like he could reach out and touch it.
“…m’gonna get you out of here someday, Ky,” he mutters. Her kisses slow to a stop. For several seconds, the room is still. Then, he feels her hand cup around the slope of his jaw, turn his head away from the window to look up at her. Their eyes meet and she looks steady into his, her thumb ghosting against his stubble. He knows what she’s saying without her needing to say it. He smiles. And she leans down, pressing her lips softly to his.
His chest rises and falls, and he breathes against the kiss. Feels her lips warm against his, one hand still on his jaw, the other molded to his chest, just over his heart. He becomes aware of his own heartbeat, soft, but quick. The weight of her hips on his. Every shift, every move. How her knees pinch his outer thighs. The brush of her hair as it cascades over her shoulders and around his head, how it glows like sunlight passing through a bottle of whiskey. And he’s drunk on it. Drunk on her, on an impossible promise, on a child’s foolish dreams of freedom and bliss and nothing but happiness for him, for her.
They break away with a thick breath. Their noses bump. He feels the sudden, slow sway of her hips, the building warmth in his. He parts his lips to speak, but a gasp replaces words as she gracefully arcs her body upward. He speaks through the next shuddering breath.
She tilts her head as she leans over him, both hands now lifted to cup his face. “Silly man… I know.”
She leans forward, and he closes his eyes. He feels her lips touch tenderly to his right eyelid, then his left. She presses a slow, warm kiss to his lips, and he returns it, exhaling slow so their breath melds in the small space between them. She pulls away, lips hovering just above his.
A smile gentles his features. He lifts a hand, pushing the hair away from her eyes and ear so he can cup her face and brush his thumb across the tender skin of her temple.
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