Victor gave a curt nod. Felicity closed her eyes, drawing from the well of power within her. A soft emerald light bloomed between her fingers, then spread like mist across Victor's body. Where it touched, wounds sealed and blood vanished. The magic drained her. The world tilted sideways. Her knees buckled. "Easy," Victor said, steadying her with strong hands. "I appreciate it, but you need to be careful with your strength."
Mere kilometers away, the city's scarred skyline rose like jagged teeth against the horizon. Victor scooped Felicity into his arms without warning, his muscled chest warm against her side. "You need to keep your strength up," he murmured, somehow producing a handful of dried berries from a pocket. When she accepted one from his fingertips, their eyes locked, and for the first time she could remember, she smiled without reservation.
They continued toward the ruins, her perched in his arms, him feeding her one sweet morsel at a time, both ready for whatever the dawn would bring next.
They made camp again in the dry shell of what may once have been a children's playground. Just enough of the bright plastic slides and upended swing sets remained to break the monotony of tangled underbrush. Night fell quickly, blue melting into bruised black. Rose and Finch collapsed beneath the bent frame of a former jungle gym, close but not touching, tuning out the world beyond their whispered confidences.
Victor positioned himself at the edge of a toppled merry go round, back straight, arms folded, watching the city's silhouette bleed into the sky. Felicity tried to be useful, arranging their food and sweeping leaves from their makeshift nest, but her hands shook with leftover adrenaline and something else. She could still taste the wildness of the day on her tongue.
She was not sure she had the right to approach him. But she did anyway. She found her voice in the quiet. "Does it always feel like this after a fight? Like nothing matters and everything matters?" Victor exhaled, a soft huff that was almost a laugh. "You get used to it," he said, though the look he gave her contradicted the words.
Her hands hovered, uncertain. Victor's, much larger, closed around her wrist.
His voice was low as midnight. "You were scared today. But you still ran. You looked after the others. And me." The compliment, rare and tender from him, burned hot in her chest. "I only did what you told me to." He studied her, dark eyes catching every nuance. "No. You did more." She did not know what to do with the intensity between them. "I'm not…" She trailed off, unsure what she was not. He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, the warmth of his breath traveling up her arm. "You're more than you think, Felicity."
She trembled at the space between them. Before she could close it, he moved first, pulling her against the hard curve of his shoulder. Her fox ears fluttered nervously against his exposed chest where his shirt had been torn away. His eyes darkened as he claimed her, one powerful arm wrapping around her waist and drawing her closer until she could barely breathe. "Mine," he growled.
She blushed and lowered her gaze, though her body knew what her mind did not, how perfectly they fit together, like puzzle pieces finally finding home.
She traced the line of his collarbone, emboldened. "Thank you for protecting me. You don't have to, though," she whispered.
He kissed the top of her head, his voice thick. "Let me try anyway." Her laugh was breathy and nervous, but she did not pull back. The world inside the ruined playground felt small and sacred, like a heartbeat. She felt the heat of him through their clothes, the subtle tremor in his muscles as he held her. His hand slid lower, resting at the curve of her hip, thumb tracing slow circles at the base of her tail.
She tilted her face up, and their lips met.
It was not gentle at first. She tasted copper and honey and something feral. His tongue traced the seam of her mouth, demanding entrance, and she gave it gladly. He kissed her like he had been waiting forever, like nothing in the world could ever taste this good again.
The kiss deepened, and her body answered with a low, aching thrum that started at her core and rippled outward. Her fingers traced the contours of his chest, lingering over each rib as she absorbed the warmth of his skin and the steady rhythm beneath. When she hesitated, unsure where to explore next, he took her hand and guided it lower, his eyes never leaving hers.
Victor crushed her against him, and she gasped at the contact, the sudden tightness in her belly. His hand found the small of her back, pressing her closer until she felt the hard ridge of him between them. She moaned softly, startled by the sound, making Victor smirk as he bit her lip.
She wanted to touch more of him, to know all the ways he was different from her and all the ways he was still human. When her fingers slipped beneath his pants, he inhaled sharply and let her, guiding her hand over the fabric beneath. "Felicity," he said, her name sounding like a warning or a prayer. Her eyes never left his. "I want to," she said softly. "But I don't know what to do."
He cupped her face with a tenderness that made her ache and kissed her again, slower this time, savoring every slide and press of their mouths. His other hand crept up her side, fingers splaying over her ribs, along the frame of her body. He explored her, tracing her shape as if mapping a lost continent.
She let him, glorying in the attention, the way he made her feel both breakable and indestructible at once. When he slid his hand beneath her shirt, warmth bloomed everywhere he touched. She was all nerves, all sensation. Her sensitive peaks tightened beneath his calloused palm, and when his thumb grazed them she gasped, arching helplessly against him. He groaned, the sound deep and guttural. His restraint was exquisite and infuriating. He seemed to want to memorize her, every shudder and whimper. When he finally pulled her shirt off, cautious as if she might bolt, she trembled, waiting for the judgment and disappointment she had learned to expect.
But Victor only stared, reverent.
"You're perfect," he said.
She wanted to laugh it off, make some joke, but his hunger broke through her defenses. When his mouth closed over her breast, she cried out, clutching his shoulders for support. He took his time with her, nipping and tasting until she could not remember anything but him, but now, but this.
She tugged at his shirt, insistent, and he let her undress him. She traced every scar, kissed the hollows and ridges of his chest, her tongue tasting the salt and iron of his skin. He shuddered, hands roaming her body with increasing urgency. Clothes melted away, piece by piece, until she was bare beneath him. The air was cold but she barely felt it. His body was a furnace, his arms a cage she never wanted to escape. He kissed her everywhere, claiming each square inch of skin with the desperate awe of a starving man.
Her gaze dropped to the floor as she whispered, "I've never… before all this happened, I hadn't even held hands with anyone."