Empty Promises

With his back to the bed, sore muscles and bruised skin against the clean sheets, the weight of her body on his is familiar. They move in perfect synchrony, a perfect rhythm that they learned in the quiet moments after missions, in motel rooms and in the shadows of an agency who dealt in espionage and death.

He knows as she moves over and around him, her tongue dancing lazily with his own, that he loves her and the thought is a painful one. People in their line of work can not afford to fall in love, to do so is to tempt the fates to take everything from them. The thought of living when she no longer does the same is agonizing, as if the world is somehow off balance and the planets are no longer aligned.

Afterwards, they lie side by side, her legs tangled with his and their noses almost touching. In the quiet moments between them, he finds peace. She does too, he knows it. They've never needed words to give weight to what they share, words are insignificant when compared with the heavy, vital weight of their bond in his bones. He doesn't need to hear I love you when she tells him a thousand different ways without ever opening her mouth.

It doesn't seem to matter how many times they promise each other that it is the last time. They are empty promises made in daylight moments and then broken in their most vulnerable ones. They are apologies of weakness that are traded between midnight kisses and words of resolve that accompany the breaking of the dawn while their heartbeats slow and their skin remains warmed by their shared body heat and fading lust.

The haunting boldness of her eyes causes his insides to churn as she looks at him and tucks her hair behind her ear. "Looks like we need to make those promises that this will never happen again," she admits with a soft smile, pulling the sheet around herself more tightly.

"No we don't," he replies, pressing a kiss to the soft skin on the inside of her wrist, a place that he knows is almost guaranteed to draw a shaky breath from her. She doesn't disappoint. He strokes his fingers gently up and down the soft skin of her back, counting the delicate bones of her spine, and relaxes, especially when he turns her hand so that her palm rests against his cheek. "We'd only be lying after all..."