Reclaiming Her Power

He followed her like gravity—no hesitation, no jokes this time.

Annie stood by the bed, the firelight casting golden shadows across her skin. Her hair caught the glow like it was woven from dusk and defiance. She watched him with that same unshakable calm, but there was a flicker in her eyes now—something wild, something soft.

Something that said: I'm choosing this. I'm choosing you.

Malvor stepped closer, slowly, like she was something sacred. He reached for her cheek, brushing his fingers down to her jaw, then her throat—lingering there for a beat too long, feeling her pulse beneath his palm.

"You're sure?" he asked, voice low, reverent.

Annie nodded. "I'm ready. Not because I need to be. But because I want to."

His breath shuddered out of him like a prayer answered.

He kissed her then, deep and unhurried, a slow exploration that melted her bones. His lips were warm, coaxing, tender in a way that made her knees weak. One of his hands slid into her hair, the other down her back, pulling her flush against him.

There was no performance in this.

Just need. Honest and open and burning.

When his tongue brushed hers, she sighed into it, fingers fisting his shirt like she could anchor herself there. He smiled against her lips.

"You're going to undo me," he murmured.

"Good," she whispered back.

Clothes came off in soft gasps and eager fingers—shirts tugged over heads, pants dropped carelessly to the floor. It wasn't rushed, but it wasn't hesitant either. It was the steady rhythm of two people who had been circling each other for far too long.

When Malvor saw her—truly saw her—he paused.

His eyes raked over every scar, every line, every rune carved with pain and power. And then he did something that shattered her.

He dropped to his knees.

Not playfully.

Not dramatically.

Just... quietly.

And pressed a kiss to her thigh.

Then her ribs.

Then her hands.

One by one, he kissed every mark he could reach, whispering her name like an offering between each one.

"Annie."

Kiss.

"My Annie."

Kiss.

"You're divine."

She was shaking.

Not from fear.

But from being seen.

He stood again, his hands trailing up her sides, mapping the curve of her waist, the arch of her spine, until she was pressed against him, bare skin to bare skin, her breath catching at the contact.

He guided her back onto the bed, slow and careful, like laying down a treasure. She pulled him with her, wrapping her legs around him without shame, her eyes locked on his.

"No illusions," she whispered.

"Never with you."

The kiss that followed was hungrier. Deeper. She bit his bottom lip and he groaned into her mouth, gripping her hips like he might lose himself entirely if she kept looking at him like that.

And gods help him—he wanted to be lost.

Her hands roamed freely now, fingers trailing down his back, across his chest, up to his neck, where she held him as he moved against her—with her. Every shift of his body was a silent promise. Every moan she made was a victory he'd never take for granted.

And when she gasped his name—just once, soft and breathy—he nearly broke apart.

"You're everything," he said, voice rough. "Everything, Annie."

She kissed him again, long and deep. "Then show me."

And he did.

He worshiped her with hands and lips and whispers. With kisses to her shoulders and the backs of her knees. With fingers that traced every curve like a path he already knew by heart. When he finally moved inside her, it wasn't a claiming.

It was a homecoming.

They moved together in a rhythm that wasn't frantic but full—stretching time, drawing out every sensation like a symphony. Her nails scratched down his back and he growled into her neck, biting just gently enough to make her gasp.

He murmured her name again and again like it was the only word he knew. She responded with soft moans, with rolling hips, with eyes wide open—no fear. No hiding.

When she came, it was with his name on her lips and her body arched into him like she was trying to memorize every second.

He followed right after, holding her so tightly he was sure she'd vanish if he didn't, his whole body shuddering with release.

They collapsed together, breathing hard, tangled in limbs and sheets and warmth. The silence that followed wasn't awkward.

It was sacred.

Annie curled into him, resting her head against his chest. His fingers traced lazy circles on her back.

"I love you," he said again, softer now. "More than I have words for."

She kissed his heart.

"I know."

He chuckled, wrapping the blanket around them like a shield. "You always know."

She smiled sleepily. "It's because you're loud."

They fell asleep tangled together, skin against skin, the chaos quiet for once. No masks. No gods.

Just Annie and Malvor.

And all the time in the world to fall deeper.

She lay beside him, close enough to share breath, and within minutes, she was asleep.

Real sleep.

Soft and deep, her body relaxed, her brow unfurrowed for the first time in days.

Malvor didn't sleep.

He couldn't.

He lay on his side, facing her, his hand drifting in slow, feather-light motions, tracing the curve of her shoulder, the dip of her waist, the edge of her wrist where her pulse beat steady and sure.

She's here.

He thought it again and again, as if repetition might anchor it deeper.

She's here.

And more than that, she didn't leave.

He had shattered, collapsed, raged, and wept.

And she had come home.

Not as someone broken.

But as someone whole.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, letting his fingers linger just long enough to feel her warmth.

He didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to miss a second of this.

So he watched her breathe.

Until the sky began to lighten.