Presence

Lupin’s pewter silks pooled around her, alight here and there with orange flames from the lantern. She looked down at them oddly for a moment, noting the color very clearly. Then she glanced up at Lord Grefham honestly. His eyes held such bleak desire she blinked and then, placing her arms around his neck deliberately, she leaned towards him swiftly. He caught her mouth halfway, holding her so tightly in his embrace she gasped, but would not let him go. She was blankly honest in her hold of him. She wanted to be near him, to be with him, more than anything in life. Her mind, her soul, always entangling with the shadows that seemed to surround her became her own, and alight when she was with him. It seemed to glow. She knew in the instant her breath touched his that she would protect him. She must. And she would.
They had embraced while at Greye – they had cuddled and kissed and talked for hours, but she had never experienced anything like the embrace in which he now enthralled her. He seemed to possess her every fibre, and she possessed him in return. His hands held her tight against him, his large, warm, graceful hands holding her to him. She could feel their power through her layers of silk and corseting. He pulled her as closely to him as could be managed, but it did not seem to satisfy him. He carefully reached up and easily pulled the ribbons and pins from her hair, so it came down to frame her face in waves and curls. His hands ran through it over and over as if to convince himself she was real. His hand came to the nape of her neck, and then he fit her head more securely to his and kissed her deeply, his tongue plunging, caressing, mastering her, leading her to respond. His finesse was tinged by the strongest of desire, yet he invited her to participate in the dance of lips and tongues and teeth and she was an avid learner.
More than anything she desired to be near him, to be with him as long as she could. And if she could not be with him for as long as she would like, she would be as close to him in the time they had as she could manage. Her passion was clear and true. She wrapped her arms closer around him, when he broke the kiss, she began to kiss his neck, his ear, whatever she could touch. She held her hands on both sides of his face and tried to kiss his forehead, she tried to nuzzle against his breast. He took her hands in a strong, gentle grip, and a faint smile touched his lips. It seemed to be an effort, as if he had not smiled in a long, long time. But a faint humor lit his eyes, as well as something stark and deep, and he took her mouth again in a long, slow kiss. He molded her to him. He would not allow her to lead, and her faint endeavors to do so seemed only to enliven his own fire for her. His hands smoothed around her waist and up, and she drew a breath, but he did not halt. She did not want him to. Her heart beat so fast she was sure she would faint, but she would drown in a delirium of satisfaction. He took her mouth in one more deep, penetrating kiss, then broke away to look at her. His eyes were a little cloudy, heavy-lidded, but something sparkled within them. They darkened for a moment “I would protect you, Lupin,” he said, quite low, but his hands could not seem to resist the need to hold her still tight to him. He held her waist in an iron grip. “Not ruin you.”
Lupin looked back at him. Her mouth was bruised, but she awoke herself sternly from her sensual state, and looked back at him with all the exhaustion and love for him she had felt over the past month of fleeing and travel. “You are protecting me,” she replied simply. And she laid her head against his shoulder for a moment. Then her slim hands dropped to his chest, where they came together quietly. “I am yours, to do with what you like.” She dropped her eyes, and pulled slightly away. He let her go but a short distance, but loosened her enough for that. She glanced back up at him, her eyes a little sad, and then she began to raise her skirts, and quietly removed one shoe. “Please, Alistair,” she asked, in a small voice, “I have missed you such a great deal. Let me have you for a little while.”
He seemed to draw his breath in swiftly at that, and stopped her hands from continuing her undressing. “Lupin,” he said and in that one word she was stretched along the squabs, his mouth above hers. “Alistair,” she said, and it was a word of fierce protection. He raised one brow, then his eyes grew dark, and he looked deep within her. “You are safe,” he told her, and bent to kiss her once more. She grasped his shoulders, but shivered slightly. He drew quickly away, a dark frown disdainfully held between his brows. "Yes, milord, but are you?" She asked, her voice shaking but a little. Her brows drawn together in anguish, her pupils were large, but her gaze was steady. She blinked once, slowly, and then raised her palm to his cheek. "I can not bear the pain of your death." She told him. He looked at her, his eyes tender, a slight, slight smile on his lips. "You think I have not seen worse than this, my dear? You have a high opinion of my soul."
She frowned, and her mouth tightened. "It is not your soul about which I am concerned, mi-" His mouth covered hers efficiently. When he raised his head again: "I asked you quite pointedly to call me by my name." Her eyes flashed for a moment. "You will not have a name to be called by if we continue on this way," she growled, but she could not keep her hands from moving over his shoulders in wonder at their presence so near her once more. "I will not leave you, but you are in danger by the very presence of -- " She waved one hand to contemptuously indicate her form, and looked away. "Me." this last was said very quiet, indeed.