As soon as the front door was locked and the rest of the apartment swathed in darkness, Thalia made her way back to her room, to her bed, by the light of her cellphone. Her heart thrummed in her chest, though sensibility tried to douse it. He just didn't want to be alone. It had nothing to do with her, specifically.
When she neared the bed, she realized Maktov had shifted his position. Now he laid on his uninjured side, facing the center of the bed. In the dark, she couldn't tell if he slept or merely rested with his eyes closed. Placing her phone facedown on the bedside table, she climbed onto the bed, as gingerly as possible. Illumination from exterior lights snuck passed the curtains, but - for the most part - everything was pitch black.
After she had settled into the bed, on her side facing him, she couldn't help staring. He was just a denser silhouette against the shadow, though she thought his outline slightly shifted in the dark. As if his own shadows were shifting, just enough, to be noticeable. For the first time, a rear-thought sidled through her mind. He could drop those shadows. There was more underneath that darkness. Thalia wondered what he looked, under it all.
Maktov's eyes cracked open - slivers of almost glowing white in the inky black - and, for a breath, they watched one another. Finally, he mumbled, "If you're uncomfortable with me, you don't have to-"
Thalia reached out, her fingers pressed against his mouth, quieting him. He tensed under her touch and, she thought, he held his breath. She closed her eyes with a sigh, temptation filling her thoughts with different places to drag her fingertips, different areas to let her lips linger. "Let's sleep and clear our heads, before either one of us does something we'll regret."
"Okay," he said, but Thalia felt his fingers clasp around her wrist. Her skin burned as his lips skimmed over her palm. A ghost of a kiss against her hand.
Her eyes snapped open, a flush nipping at her cheeks. Though she didn't pull away from his hold, she hissed, "You're making this very hard."
Against her hand, Thalia felt his lips twitch into a grin and a light scoff leave him. He radiated suggestiveness. As if he were saying, 'You're one to talk about making things hard.'
Gods, what was wrong with her? Her mind was going down the dirtiest paths so quickly. She wasn't that hard-up, was she? Then again, their interactions had started because she stared at his teeth, thinking of them on her neck and chest and...
Before she knew it, Thalia pulled her palm from his mouth, only to replace it with her lips. Her hands pressed to his chest, only fabric separating skin to shadow. Maktov made a sound, something caught between surprise and delight, before his hand found the small of her back, pressing her flush against him. His other hand cupped at her cheek, tugging her closer as the kiss deepened. His shadows - soft and barely there - coiled around her, teasing across bare flesh and tentatively dipping beneath the very edges of her clothes. Deep in her pleasurable haze, Thalia ached for the touches to go farther.
All other thoughts fled under the onslaught of hormones. She just wanted to touch him, to delight in the sensation and sound of him. And he imagined much of the same about her. The touch of her warmed skin and the sound of her hitched breath.
Her teeth grazing over his lips shot electric warmth down Maktov's spine. He breathed a low growl, breaking the kiss to nip along her throat. Thalia gasped as the points of his teeth dragged across her neck and she bared her throat further to him. Her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, pulling tightly at the garment. Her body arched against his, a small mewl of gasp leaving her lips. That small sound drove his body to roll atop her, wanting to feel more of her pressed against him as tightly as possible.
Or attempted to roll atop her...
"Wait!" Thalia gasped when she registered what he intended to do. At the same time, pain cleaved across his side and echoed along his body, reminding him of tender state. In synchronicity, the injury at his head throbbed in time. He hissed an expletive, falling fully back to his side as he bent in pain. His arm instinctively tightening crushed Thalia against him, bringing a new wave of guilt crashing through her.
The agony seemed short lived as Maktov relaxed against her. Though the dull throb of pain, though healing, echoed through his body.
"On that note," Thalia stated, gently shoving his arm off her before rolling over, her back to Maktov. She didn't want to risk causing him pain again. The flush on her face, uncomfortably warm in the cool darkness, only served to deepen her guilt. "We should really get some rest."
Maktov's fingers twitched, eager to breach the small gap between him and Thalia. He wanted to touch her, feel her next to him. Something ached in him that hadn't stirred in a long time. His self-discipline, suddenly reappearing, tamped down on the desire. Unable to roll onto his injured side, he just pressed his face into the pillow and mumbled a muffled, "Alright."
Though both fell quiet, their minds buzzed. They replayed the events of the day, the evening, the last few minutes until sleep dragged the two into unconsciousness before temptation could rise again.
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