Felicity shifted in Exile's hold, her body pressing closer without hesitation, her fingers gripping into him like she needed something solid to anchor herself against. Her breathing had lost all rhythm now, uneven and shallow, her skin flushed deep, heat rolling off her in waves that didn't settle, didn't ease, didn't give her a moment to think.
"Good…" she murmured softly, her voice drifting, unfocused, like she wasn't fully there anymore. "This feels… good…"
Exile didn't move.
He couldn't.
His entire body had locked around her, not restraining, not trapping, but holding, containing, as if he loosened even slightly, something irreversible would happen. His breathing had gone shallow, controlled only by force, his head lowered slightly as his mind fractured under the weight of proximity.
Mine. The word didn't repeat anymore. It pressed.
