A/N: This little piece of fic was inspired by the song "Twice" by Little Dragon (thus the title, not that it is exactly apropos, but hey!) I really want to be able to craft great intimate scenes, unfortunately that means unleashing my tries on the public... forgive me for assaulting you... thanks for reading anyway!

Disclaimer: Of course I don't own this, but Jane Austen made me do it!

Twice

She always believed the living area of her loft was spacious and airy, but with his presence looming large the seemingly abundant proportions instantly shrank. The normally imperceptible clash of neurons, protons and electrons became physically obvious to her skin. Each hair on her arm stood at attention, her response to his being was instinctual. Their interactions had always been a volatile connection of feelings and words that neither could deny. It had the gravitational pull of a black hole, there was no escape.

He was here in her home after six months of forcing him from her brain and failing fantastically. It had been her reality since his first words of longing and desire had spilled from his lips and laid his love and devotion in her hands to be handled according to her will. She could not fathom any part of her that could accept him then. Now, so many things had changed. The truth had been exposed. Treachery, misjudgment and willful misunderstanding had given way to truth, illumination and humility.

"I couldn't stay away." His voice was low and earnest. She stood with her back to him, unable to respond.

"Are you to reject me again?" he asked, his voice nearly a whisper. The rawness of his pain scraped against her skin. Her every scathing word was relived in her heart and she was ashamed. That same shame weighed her tongue, and her shoulders slumped.

"I don't want to cause you pain," he wanted to touch her, but did not trust his heart to be able to handle the pain if she recoiled from his touch. "I can't stop loving you. I am not made that way, no matter how much you hate me, I still love you. I can't remember a time when I did not love you. You are a part of me." he stopped speaking reaching his hand forward but restraining himself from actually touching her.

Her mind was a whirling dervish of emotions… regret, longing and something with no name that slow danced its way through her subconscious. She wanted to cry and to kiss him. To heal the palpable pain that existed between them.

"I am… I want.." She stuttered. She is a writer, a person who expresses her opinion as an occupation yet she had no words. She ached to reaffirm him. To let him know that she'd forgiven him and desired his absolution in return. Taking a deep breath she turned to face him. She inhaled his scent, took in his face staring without remorse into his eyes and seeing the truth of his pain stretched across his face. It pricked her and she bled for him. She wanted to pour herself unto the altar of his heart for both their peace. Allowing herself the freedom to feel, she closed the gap. Holding his gaze she extended her left arm and placed her hand on his face.

He leaned into her hand and she felt the moisture covering his cheek. Her own eyes released cleansing salt water. She wondered if it would be enough to wash away all they've done to one another.

He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, "I love you," he whispered, "I love you" again and again as if each utterance gave him some mythical power. Her shoulders shook and he brought his arms around her waist, leaning into her. His lips grazed hers slightly, seeking permission. Her right arm boldly skimmed across his left shoulder, her fingers losing themselves in his dark hair. It sparked their latent passions, his laid dormant because he sought permission; hers quiet because she didn't trust enough to believe in the steadfastness of his affections.

Their embrace became more confident and tightened as their lips met. Not knowing what part of her body to explore first his hands seemed to be everywhere at once though the parts of her brain not completely consumed by him knew that to be a physical impossibility. She was the first to break their kiss though she remained secure in his embrace. Meeting his questioning eyes, she spoke.

"I need you to know how sorry I am." He moved to protest, but her eyes implored him to remain silent.

"I need you to know I was wrong and that I was immediately ashamed of my short sightedness when the truth came out… and I need you to know that I love you. I need you to know that I want you. I need you to know that you being on the other side of my door today was the best thing that could have happened to me."

He was holding his breath. The feelings that surrounded him left him breathless, and so he behaved as most men did when they finally earned the heart of the woman they love. He kissed her pouring every ounce of his feeling in the way his hands caressed her face. Their tears joined as they embraced mirroring the state of their hearts and their minds from this day forward.

Denoument