Previously, on Second Chances...

Romelle, still on her side, stared curiously. "Why did you bring that in here?"

The erotic grin returned. Never breaking eye contact, he slowly crawled on the bed towards her. "Du aner ikke hva du har gjort, Romelle. Du har dratt deg selv - Jeg er klar til å elske deg igjen ... og jeg mener å gjøre denne gangen sist."

She leaned back against the pillows, staring at him while he brushed his nose against hers. "I have no idea what you're saying."

He smiled, pressing his lips to hers. "Good."

Her bafflement was short-lived when his skin slid smoothly over hers. Sven put his elbows on either side of her, focusing on kissing her deeply, hoping his added weight wouldn't be uncomfortable. Romelle lay frozen for a moment, unsure of what she should do or how to respond. She finally wound her arms around his torso, feeling the warmth of his skin under her shaking hands.

"Er du ok?" he asked quietly. "Du skjelver."

She stared at him for a long moment, deciding to nod because she wasn't sure what else to do. He smiled tenderly and kissed her cheek, nuzzling against her a moment, before sliding down to her jaw. Long ago he'd discovered she loved attention to her neck and shoulders. She hummed happily when he spread kisses from one side to the other, taking his time, loving the skin he could reach. As his head drifted lower, Romelle opened her eyes and looked at him, suddenly realizing what he intended to do.

Sven paused, looking up at her, and slowly raised his hand. He brushed the underside of her breast, the same as he'd done in the tub, before cupping it entirely. It fit differently from this angle; the fuller contact made her sigh as he slowly massaged it. He grinned. "Akkurat sånn."

She watched, frozen, as he dipped his head to her flesh, nuzzling and loving the skin around her nipple. She shuddered, realizing he was teasing her, intentionally not giving her the contact he'd done previously. She arched her back a bit, trying to get his attention. He smiled against her skin. "Veldig bra. Dere lærer."

She expected him to repeat his actions from earlier. Instead, his lips brushed, very lightly, over her nipple. The barely-there contact made her gasp. The nipple was pushed into his mouth, and he gently circled his lips around it. When she didn't protest, he ran his tongue over the tip.

The thrill shot through her again, and this time she didn't stop the small sound she'd fought so hard to hide the first time. Content with her response, Sven put his lips more firmly around her nipple, circling it with his tongue. She shuddered, arching her back. "Sven…"

His smile was all the answer she needed. Recalling his earlier encouragement, she threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him in place while he teased her. For a moment he simply held the nipple in his mouth. Then, quickly, he flicked his tongue against it. She squirmed beneath him, whimpering, aching for the release he'd given her earlier. His other hand trailed up her side and covered her other breast, kneading gently. When his fingertips brushed in time with the strokes of his tongue, she thought she'd go mad.

"Hva du vil ha?" he whispered.

She fully relaxed, thinking he was instructing her to do so. Smiling, Sven gently suckled on her nipple. Romelle groaned, her hips bucking up against him. His hardness pressed against her. He exhaled heavily, gingerly grinding his hips against hers, feeling dizzy.

Romelle froze. "Sven…?"

He released her nipple with a soft 'pop.' She couldn't stop the shudder, but maintained eye contact when he looked at her. "I-I don't… I don't know if I'm…" She put her hands on his hips, unsure how to explain that the most intimate act was the one she feared above others.

He grinned, nuzzling her breast comfortingly. "Det er greit. Vi er ikke der ennå." He kissed the nipples, taking one in for a teasing suckle, and shifted, bracing his weight on one arm and running his hand along her stomach. Romelle stared at his wandering hand, flinching a bit when he hit a ticklish spot. "I'm not ready to go that far yet."

She looked him in the eye, noting the small grin, the kindness on his face. The hand on her belly slid to her side. He shifted his weight, bringing his face to her hip, kissing the slender curves of her skin. Romelle watched, hypnotized, a vague idea forming of what he had planned. Anticipation shot through her, but it dulled as he kissed his way to the apex of her thighs.

Sven took her hand, slipping an arm under one leg. "Don't be scared," he whispered against her skin. Romelle only had a moment to register the rumble against her before he was kissing her there, and her breathing grew heavier as he took his time, moving from the top of her mound to her thighs and around again. He eventually settled.

She wasn't prepared for the rough texture of his tongue against her. The contact was light, hesitant, asking before taking. Her breath hitched. Sven squeezed her hand before licking again, though this time his tongue lingered, sliding through crevasses, exploring her. The sensation wasn't unpleasant. Once she was used to the feeling she relaxed more, feeling her face flush. He had to know what he was doing to her, how arousing the sensation was. Impulsively, she squirmed.

The movement of her hips brought his tongue in contact with her nub. It was a jolt to her system. She gasped.

Sven said nothing, but she saw his grin before he moved in further, capturing her, caressing her. It was wave on wave of heightened pleasure. Romelle moaned, gripping his hand tightly, already near a crest he'd brought her to previously. She reached out and grabbed his hair, clutching any part of him she could reach. Sven released her, teasing her with light brushes, and made eye contact. The heat in his eyes was memorizing.

"Speak to me."

He took her in his mouth again. It was far more intense than before, the contact heavier and dizzying. Romelle moaned his name, shifting her hips, gripping him tightly, the overwhelming pleasure fueled by the brush of his thumb over her hand, a tender caress. It was her undoing - she moaned long and loud, trembling, panting Sven's name as he guided her through another orgasm. She sighed, exhausted. Sven pulled away, and she watched as he grabbed the rag and wiped his face, tossing it near the edge of the bed. He settled against her, a brightness to his eyes she hadn't seen before.

He reached forward and caressed her cheek, suddenly still. "Du er fortsatt med meg?" he whispered, then shook his head slightly. "You're still with me?"

"Yes," she answered, exhilarated and tingling all at once, feeling sleepy. She reached up to take his hand, reveling in his touch, his caress. When she looked at him again, there was a slight hesitation in his eyes. He gave her a small, encouraging smile. "Would you like to try?" he whispered, his accent thick on the slow, purposeful words. He removed his hand from her cheek and placed it on her hip.

The spell she'd been under since he'd lead her to the bathroom was broken. Her eyes widened slightly, and her breathing deepened. She wasn't naive - she knew that this was a bridge they'd eventually have to cross, and would probably have to several times before she was ever comfortable. That didn't make it any less intimidating. She swallowed thickly, searching for an answer, as tears she didn't feel building spilled from her eyes. Sven was there immediately, nuzzling her neck, kissing her shoulders, whispering to her. A sob built in her throat, but she held it in check, turning her face to his, desperate to see him. He raised his head and kissed her, gently, deeply, a silent request to stay with him, and she answered with everything she could. She wrapped her arms around him, feeling the scars on his back, trying to focus on the way he breathed.

"Shh," he whispered, kissing her cheek, her temple, holding her close. He pulled back enough to see her clearly. "What are you afraid of?"

Romelle blinked furiously, trying to focus on him through her tears. She didn't answer until she could see him clearly, doing her best to calm down. He waited quietly, staring into her eyes. "It'll hurt," she choked out, repeating herself, feeling like she needed to be clear.

There was a strange look in his eyes that she didn't understand, but it was gone moments later. He nuzzled her nose. "I don't know if it will this time or not," he whispered honestly. "But I can promise you it won't last forever."

It won't last forever. It seemed to be a theme. She remembered him saying it earlier in the evening. She moved a hand into his hair, forcing herself back into the present, resisting the temptation to hide.

Sven kissed an eyebrow, looking at her seriously. "What would you like me to do?"

Her fear screamed that she should tell him to back off, that they'd done enough and he should be happy he got that far. She took a deep breath. She was tired of living in fear. This was the last great hurdle in her recovery. If she didn't take a step in a time when Sven was so understanding, so patient and kind, she didn't know if she ever could. She released the breath through her mouth, but it shuddered. She felt small again when she answered, "Say my name."

His small, erotic smile returned. She finally realized where his hands were, his fingers brushing against her skin comfortingly. "Min modig Romelle," he breathed, kissing her. He shifted to rest atop her, the groan from the bed alarmingly loud in her ears. She kept her eyes open, trained on him, her fingers moving across his bare skin. She had to stay here. She needed to stay with him, with Sven. He'd been wonderful and tender and slow. He wouldn't force her. He'd go as far as she'd let him.

He shifted his weight, brushing his fingers across her lips. "Snakk til meg," he said slowly. "Snakk til meg." He said it intently, waiting for her to answer. She looked at him, entranced by the seriousness in his eyes, breathing against his fingers. She tried to fight against the image in her mind - she knew he wasn't telling her to keep quiet, but she couldn't help it. "Lips… don't…?"

He shook his head slowly. His fingers trailed from her lips to her neck, down past her shoulders, to gently rub against her nipple. She gasped. His eyebrows raised slightly. "Ja det er det," he whispered, then said again, "Snakk til meg."

She knew what ja meant, having heard him say it several times to her and himself. He'd said it after she'd gasped. A response.

Talk to me. Tell me what you want.

"Speak to you?"

"Det er riktig," he smiled, reaching down to touch his lips to hers, the action not quite a kiss.

She nodded against him. She would, of course she would. She felt it was her only line of defense against him, a man she wouldn't dare ever think to physically hurt, who'd done so much for her in slowly bringing her back to life. She felt tears well up again in her eyes. She wouldn't think of him as something she needed to protect herself from. He wasn't Lotor. He'd never be Lotor.

She felt him settle against her, gently nudging her legs apart with a small motion of his hips. His hands he kept near her face, framing her, letting her know where they were at all times. She was still in control. They brushed away her fresh tears. She desperately wanted to close her eyes, but she wouldn't lose him. Not now. He paused, looking at her.

"I'm scared," she breathed, reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes. She had to touch him. She had to see that she wanted to touch him.

"Jeg vet. Jeg vet du er redd. Jeg vil ikke skade deg." Balancing himself on one arm, he reached between them and touched her, swallowing her gasp in his kiss. "May I love you?"

You've been doing that, she thought sharply, and immediately pushed it away. She would not respond in fear. She'd fight this. She would beat it. Her hand curled into his hair. "Yes," she said, trying to sound confident, even if it died on a warble.

His eyes stayed on her even as he kissed her again. She felt the build, the ache from his touch, and tried to focus on that even as his body lined with hers. She thought of his warmth, the feel of his skin, how smooth and fine it was, even the scar tissue that lined his back. She drugged herself with his scent, the way he breathed, how eager he seemed. She tried to draw on him as much as possible, to bury her entire being into Sven, the love of her life who was intent on loving her.

Her focus was fragile and she knew it. It shattered the moment she felt him press against her. She tried to steady her breathing, putting her hands on his chest, telling herself to follow how he breathed so calmly. He murmured against her jaw, keeping his eyes open and locked on hers. "Du er modig, Romelle. Du er den modigste personen jeg kjenner." His lips hovered at the corner of her mouth, pressing against her nose, her cheek, her chin… he desperately wanted to kiss her, but doing so would prevent her from talking to him like she needed. Her hands held onto him tightly as he slowly entered her, and they both gasped for different reasons. "Romelle?" he urged.

"I…" She was shaking. It was impossible to hide with his body pressed against hers. "I'm here. I'm with you." She raised a hand to cup his neck, burying her fingers in his hair. She wanted to say how scared she was, but he was already well aware. "I love you," she said instead.

"Jeg elsker deg og," he said, pressing a kiss to her neck. He continued to enter her slowly, the stretch and ache bringing more tears to her eyes. It didn't hurt, but it wasn't comfortable, either. "Min Gud, du er så varm. Du føler deg så bra, Romelle. Du føler deg så bra."

She swallowed, turning her face to his. The more he moved, the more she ached. She pressed her forehead to his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. She moved her legs, desperate for relief. "It hurts," she gasped, and the words felt like a whole new revelation to her.

His fingers changed their earlier rhythm. The pleasure he gave her was a strange combination with the pain she felt. "Det gjør vondt?" He leaned over her, kissing her forehead, leading her to rest against the pillow. "Jeg beklager det gjør vondt. Det vil bli bedre. Jeg lover. Det er meg, Romelle. Det er Sven. Jeg er rett her."

She watched him lean his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. He was clearly holding himself back, control restrained against his fear of scaring her. She whimpered as he moved deeper. It didn't seem to end. His back bowed just a bit. He looked at her, and their blue color was deeper than she'd ever seen them before. The small smile on his face faded immediately. "Jeg er ferdig. Jeg er helt i." He cupped her face, catching her tears. "I'm right here," he said, his accent strong.

"I can't take more," she whispered. She was barely hanging on to her composure. Her hands held him in a death grip.

"I'm in. I'm done. We're…" he fumbled for the words, wanting to encourage her. "We're together."

The words brought a temporary relief. Romelle clung to them, closing her eyes, trying to feel him more than the ache her body felt. We're together. It didn't have the magical effect she'd expected it to have. Would that come later? Had that been ruined for her, too? "Together," she said, like she'd heard it for the first time and was trying it out.

He gave her a small smile. "We can't get any closer than we are right now."

She considered the position of his body, how his legs, torso, and arms touched every bit of her. They were flush against each other, and she noticed for the first time how hot his skin was. These were details she'd never gotten, nor wanted, with Lotor. He kept her as distant as possible. Sven felt like he was ready to melt into her, like he couldn't get enough. He kissed her again, angling his mouth against hers. She noticed his breaths were deep and even. Was he trying to calm down, too?

"It's not over yet," she said when he pulled back.

He looked at her thoughtfully, a small frown etched in his features. "Are you ready?"

Romelle felt like she'd admitted her fear a million times. He knew she was scared, but she needed to answer him honestly. "No." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "But I think I'm never going to be truly ready, so I have to try."

He smiled at her again, and this one she knew right away. He'd given it to her every time she made progress in her recovery - it was filled with pride. "Trying is a great place to start." A shudder moved through her, but to her surprise, it made him moan quietly. He chuckled breathlessly, "I must admit, my brave Romelle…" He leaned over and brought his lips to her ear. "I enjoy being inside you." He sighed. "You feel so good."

His words were touching and discouraging all at once. She'd never known such an intimate compliment could thrill her so, but it also made her painfully aware that she wasn't enjoying it as much as he was. His break had given her a chance to breathe, though, and she used it to restore her courage as much as possible. My brave Romelle. She would be brave as much as she could. She wrapped an arm over his shoulders, taking another deep breath. "Okay."

He nodded against her, gently suckling on her earlobe. He gingerly started to pull out of her, slowly, and not too far, before pushing back in. She grunted, and against her will, her eyes clamped shut. She pressed her face against his.

"Snakk med meg," he groaned, pausing when he was fully buried, his body trembling. He pulled back and brushed his nose against hers. "Romelle?"

"I'm here," she said, more to herself than to answer him. "I'm here. I'm here. It's you. It's you, it's you, it's you, it's you, it's Sven."

"Det er Sven." He didn't seem as aroused as he had moments ago. He was clearly worried. "I'm right here. It's okay. It's Sven."

She didn't ask him to stop, so he continued to move in slow, purposeful strokes, barely pulling out before he pushed back in. He eyed her cautiously, her wide eyes filling with tears again. He turned his head and kissed the fist clenched tightly by his face. "Jeg har deg. Du er ikke noe sted." Her face began to crumple. She felt her lip wobbling. She was breaking. "Du bor her med meg. Det er ingenting å være redd for."

She tried to breathe steadily. She really did. Romelle stared into his eyes until she couldn't see them anymore, distorted by her tears. She tried to focus on his scent, but that was only making her dizzy. She was losing him. All she felt was the pressure between her legs, the ache that didn't go away. She closed her eyes.

"Romelle?"

She'd lost. She felt small and stupid and utterly hopeless. The sobs she'd fought so hard against finally broke free. She covered her face in embarrassment. This time, when he inched out, he pulled out entirely, surprising her. She gasped loudly, the sob making it sound like it hurt more than it did.

Sven rolled off of her. She opened her eyes and reached for him. "No, please…! Don't leave. I'm sorry."

Romelle had moments to see the tears in his eyes before he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her tightly. "Don't apologize. You have nothing to be sorry about. I didn't know if you wanted some space."

"Don't go," she sobbed, no longer able to fight it. "Please stay here."

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. "I'm right here. It's me. It's Sven. I'm not going to leave." She felt him sigh, holding her tighter. "I'm so proud of you. You're so brave."

His words undid her. She wrapped an arm around his waist, the other barely under his chest, and cried into his shoulder. Her body shook, undone, her tears streaming down his arm and onto the comforter. He didn't try to quiet or stop her. He held her through every sound that escaped her, kissing her, running a hand up her back while the other gently massaged her scalp. It was a method he'd used before when she broke into a panic attack, or clung to him when her memories were too powerful. It was a familiar comfort, desperately needed, but this time its magic took longer to work.

Romelle eventually pulled back just enough to see his skin soaked by her tears. "You're not mad?" She asked, knowing full well he wasn't.

"Oh, Romelle. No. Of course not." He kissed the top of her head for a long time. His fingers gently lifted her chin. She hadn't imagined it - he'd been crying, too. His eyes were red. "I'm not mad at all. I promise." She nodded, sniffling loudly, the pressure behind her eyes slowly dissipating. He brushed the streaks of her tears away. "Are you okay?"

It seemed like a crazy question, but what other question could he have asked? She sighed, closing her eyes, feeling overwhelmed and emotionally exhausted. "I don't know," she said. "I want to hide."

He looked at her, then down at their naked bodies. Pulling away from her, he sat up on his knees and worked the covers out from the bed, helping her maneuver so that they could get under them together. He pulled the sheet over their heads. "Is this okay?" He pulled her close again.

She clung to him. "It works."

"I'm glad." He leaned down and kissed her, long and lazy, like they had all the time in the world. "Sleep, Min kjærlighet. I'll be right here."

Romelle cuddled close to him, rubbing her cheek against his chest. She was so grateful for him, for who he was and how he loved her. It was her last clear thought before she fell into a deep sleep.

A yawn. A stretch. A few joints popped, she moved her hips to shift… and felt the uncomfortable ache anew. She frowned, opening her eyes, squinting against the sunlight spilling in from the curtains. The ache…?

Last night.

Sven.

She realized his scent was everywhere. She turned to look at him, and was met with his blue eyes already on her. His pillow was folded over, his head resting on it, and she realized he had a hand on the curve of her hip. He smiled, his eyes softening. He'd never looked at her that way before. "Hi," she said shyly.

"God morgen," he said, his voice thick with sleep. He leaned in and kissed her. Why was this so… arousing? She didn't question it. He brushed his thumb against her cheek. "You stayed."

"So did you."

He was still smiling at her when he tugged her hip towards him, bringing her to rest against his chest. She wrapped an arm around him, feeling weightless and like she was in a dream. "Stay here," he whispered, "I want to hold you for a while." He kissed the top of her head. "Is that okay?"

She nodded, feeling warm and safe. "How do you feel?" she asked, not really sure what she was supposed to say, if anything at all.

He chuckled, giving her a light squeeze. "I'm fine, but I should be asking you that question." He was quiet a moment. He shifted his head to look at her. "Romelle, are you alright?"

That wonderful, light feeling slipped through her fingers. She stared at his chest, rising and falling with each breath. Don't hide. Don't be afraid. "I don't... " That wasn't true. "For the most part, I think." That wasn't true, either. She frowned. "Yes and no."

"Are you…" He paused a moment, searching for the term. "... having second thoughts?"

He'd explained this term to her once. She shook her head. "No, I'm not. I'm not sure if I'm alright, Sven, but I'm not… I don't regret anything."

He leaned over and gently kissed her forehead, her hair. He spoke carefully. "I know it didn't end the way you wanted it to, but hearing that makes me happy."

She nuzzled into him briefly, absently staring at the hair that covered his chest and the blanket that covered the rest of him. "I don't know how I expected it to end," she confessed. She wasn't under the impression that one night would change everything, but she hadn't expected her reaction to be quite so strong, either.

"Romelle…" Sven trailed his hand from her shoulder to her arm and back again. "I don't know that we should have expectations. I think the best thing is to continue to try." He tilted her chin to meet his eyes, and she was surprised by how serious he was. "And you must continue to talk to me. It's the only way I'll know if anything is wrong.? The last thing I want to do is hurt you, or trigger something in your memory, or…" He was so insistent, so imploring. "I don't want you to feel like you have to hide from me."

He was haunted by something. She recognized that expression; it was the one he wore when he told her about events that had happened during his time in the caves on Doom. She splayed a hand on his chest and sat up a bit, looking at him. "Sven… what happened two nights ago?"

If he was surprised she asked, he didn't show it, but he broke away from her gaze and stared at the ceiling. He sighed, holding her a bit tighter. She didn't move. "You came to me and… I didn't know what to do. You'd told me you were ready, you kissed me back, but… something didn't seem right. I asked if you were okay and you said yes… it felt off, it felt strange, but I didn't know if it was because of how you were handling it. You never told me to stop." His brow slowly started to crease. "I wondered if that was what you needed - for me to keep going. Not to force you through it, of course, but if we managed to get through it…" He looked guilty, still not looking at her. "We finished." He blanched. "We," he spat out, a terrible choice of words. "… I fin-" He sighed, frustrated, unsure how to continue. "It was over, and you didn't move, you didn't seem upset… I thought maybe you were absorbing everything. I went crazy wondering what you were thinking. You wouldn't talk to me. Then the next morning you were gone and you looked at me like you were scared of me and I knew I'd done something wrong. You avoided me. But I decided we weren't going to do this. We had to talk to each other." He finally looked at her, drawing her closer, touching his forehead to hers. "I felt like I'd taken advantage of you."

"Sven…" She badly wanted to comfort him, but she realized she didn't know if she could. She understood the moral ground he was on, and to say he hadn't done anything wrong… if she'd allowed herself to hide away, was it true? "No," she said out loud. "I won't see it that way. You're a good man, Sven. You could never, ever…" She swallowed, feeling tears come to her eyes. "I don't care if there's some psychological nonsense that says otherwise. I know you. I never would have gone to you if I'd thought… I wouldn't even be near if you if I'd thought you capable of…" She kissed him, not knowing what else to do. "You said it yourself, didn't you? We got a second chance. Whatever happened then doesn't count. Right?"

Sven still looked rueful, but that didn't stop him from gently caressing her cheek with the tips of his fingers. "Right."

"Then last night counts. That's all that matters. What happened…" She swallowed thickly, smiling at him. "... meant so, so much to me."

The haze in his eyes cleared. Love shone within them, and she felt her spirits lift. "It did to me, too."

"And…" Her smile turned slightly mischievous, trying to lighten the mood. "We'll have a third chance to get better."

"Yes, we will." The acceptance that there'd be another time made him smile softly. "And a fourth, just to be sure."

"And a fifth. Practice makes perfect."

His smile broadened. "We'd better make sure there's more than ten, at least."

"At least?"

"Yeah. I want to get good at this."

She laughed. When she leaned down to kiss him again, he kissed back eagerly. "Maybe you shouldn't limit yourself and take all the time you need." She whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Challenge accepted."

She held him tightly, listening to him breathe, feeling like she was floating. She was certain that they hadn't faced their last obstacle in making love, and that there'd be many more times where they'd have to stop so she could collect herself. Regardless, she was confident in the man who held her heart as closely as he held her now. He would guide her, but let her lead, allow her to feel, but also to resist if she wanted. They would get there, be it their tenth chance or their twentieth or their one hundredth.

As many times as they'd need.

Happy Valentine's Day, lovelies.