Part 2. Short, but possibly the most concentrated smut I have ever written. M. Less than 500 words and almost every one of them smutty.

It felt like they were the only two people in the world, she could concentrate on nothing but him, the feeling of his bare skin against hers, even as he held her gently in his sleep. Her brain had been somehow numbed down, she could not think properly; perhaps it was a very happy form of exhaustion. The gentle ebb and flow of his breathing was coaxing her softly towards a very deep sleep, but she resisted for a little while longer, quietly revelling in these moments, in the vividly recent, wonderful memories.

It could, just about, be said that she had recently discovered entirely new- yet echoing-ly similar- associations of having his head in her lap: his hand at her hip, holding her steady, as he drove her to the most acceptable madness she had ever known, that she had never known before now. The fresh knowledge that he loved her back was almost enough to over-whelm her entirely in itself, never mind this demonstration of it.

She was aware- as she recovered herself slowly- that he had moved back up her body, supporting himself over her, watching her face intently. There was nothing she could say to him as he moved carefully to lie back down beside her, still watching as if afraid he would loose sight of her if his gaze broke, taking her still trembling form into his arms and holding her tightly. She found her voice again, albeit shakily.

"Don't you want to-...?"

"Shh," he told her , "There's time yet."

She fell silent apart from her ragged breath, relishing quietly in the closeness between them, never wanting it to end, but at the same time wanting more of what had led to it. These two urges in her conflicted lazily for a while, until she kissed him again- softly at first- and the latter decidedly won.

She wrapped her arms back around his neck, deepening the kiss, pushing closer, showing him she was ready. He surprised her by rolling to lie under her, but found she could find this arrangement quite acceptable, opening her legs to straddle him. For a moment she was still: her right hand was entwined with his left, she closed her eyes, revelling in the feeling of his hips brushing the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs. Surely it was wrong, to feel as happy as this in such a way; but then, how had they managed to get here at all? Nothing short of a miracle could have brought them past their differences, their squabbles, to find them here, like this.

She felt his hand reach up and brush against her face. Nuzzling her mouth into it, kissing it, she opened her eyes to find him watching her. He didn't need to tell her that he loved her, in that moment she understood implicitly. And then she simply drew him to her and made love to him.

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