Part II
“And they never will…”
Her dress pooled at her feet and his whisper drifted through the dark just before the mattress bent beneath their weight. City lights carved thin silver bars across the ceiling; beyond the curtains the world kept its distance.
He lay beside her, not over her, one palm resting near the curve of her waist as if guarding the pulse there. She traced the line of his jaw, felt the rasp of stubble, the thrum under his skin.
“They’ll forget all this,” she breathed.
“Not a chance.” His lips traced her collarbone and pressed lightly, sealing the promise in flesh instead of words.
Sheets rustled; their legs tangled… bare and unhurried. His fingertips wandered first: the hollow above her knee, the slope of her hip, the familiar small of her back. Wherever touch lingered, lips soon followed, pausing after each discovery as though granting the moment its own heartbeat.
She guided him only with the lightest press of fingers, charting stars across cotton and skin. When her breath trembled, he slowed; when his voice cracked on her name, she answered with a low, urgent hum. The headboard marked time in a patient rhythm… soft and reverent.
“And they never will,” he echoed into the curve of her shoulder, bodies tightening in unison as heat flooded through them… muscles trembling and every pulse thundering their vow across the dark.
Silence settled, thick with afterglow. She traced lazy spirals on his chest.
“What are you writing?” he asked, eyelids heavy.
“A legend,” she murmured, voice warmed by the quiet. “One no outsider will ever read.”
“That’s exactly how I want it,” he said, drawing her closer until their breaths synced and cooled.
Outside, distant traffic murmured on. Inside, two bodies lay curved into a single, secret shape… stories stitched beneath the seams of night, safe from any tongue but theirs.
