Emma waits, guarded, uncertain, in disbelief for everything that has transpired. Despite every attempt, every missed call, every purposely dodged interaction, he stands in front of her asking her to stay.

And then he steps close to her to bring her in, his lips finding hers. His whispered word is brushed against her skin even before he ever makes contact with her. It echoes, bearing the weight of a promise.

She reciprocates his kiss slowly, as if her limbs are numb and she is too heavy to move, too cold. But he is warm, breathing life into her where his hands might touch her skin, encouraging her to let him in.

So she does, slowly, and then all at once.

THEO BECKETT

[attr="class","beck"]this time, warmth doesn't fleet even after the moment passes. it lingers, surrounding them on the couch in the living room.

breathless, he asks:

"do you want me to stay?"

[attr="class","noodles"]Emma Wolfe

In their pursuit of happiness, driven by hunger and loneliness and need, they have settled on the couch. His breath is warm against her cheek when they pull away. His question is heavy, one she, at first, didn't think she was strong enough to carry.

But she wants to be.

The woman shifts, slipping across his lap so that either knee digs into the couch on either side of his lap. She lowers onto him now, golden eyes fastened on his face. Fingers pull at her own shirt, drawing it up and past her shoulders to be cast aside on the arm of the chair.

"I want you to stay."

Her words are hushed, spoken like a secret between only two. Emma doesn't wait.

She will take, and take, and take.

THEO BECKETT

[attr="class","beck"]she can take what she wants; there's little he won't give.

hands roam up her body, grazing over marks that should be familiar, but he remembers little if any at all. he kisses her bare skin, warm breath tainting as he explores.

"then i'll stay."

[attr="class","noodles"]Emma Wolfe

The wake of his hands leave behind goosebumps, raised skin that jumps at his every touch. She is responsive, attracted, ravenous. With her shirt removed and his whispered promise, Emma moves to remove his shirt next. Her fingers catch on exposed skin, on scars and marks that may one day become familiar to her.

Stay.

It repeats over and over like a chant in her head. She indulges, sealing his heavy breathing with aggressive, demanding kisses. She is teeth and nails and dogged anticipation. What he would give to her, she would swallow whole.

And what he wanted, she would give.

THEO BECKETT