miles from whom we were

disclaimer: definitely not mine.

Firecrackers explode; it's hands on hips and buttons half-undone. Teeth meet lip, and tug. Clothes rustle as the sense of urgency tries to reclaim their lost time.

His fingers tangle in her hair, red like the sunspot flames, and he can feel her burning, burning, burning for him; heart hammering in chest. And she's blazing, blazing, blazing in his arms. Bruises form on his rib cage, her neck, his shoulder, her waist, and yet the pain is nothing compared to the shower of kisses, trying to replace ice as the cure. The pads of her palm skitter down his abs, hungry for more, finding that warmth once more.

Arching, it's push and pull; she gasps, he gasps, and the world stops, starts, sizzles.

He murmurs to her, "I missed you."

She laces her hand with his and smiles coyly. "Welcome home."