#'for use on skis when the snow is excessively wet' okay like we can make something similar imagine thats what it does for the tardis

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

hmmmmm

[the-minus-four]

Snowed In (Thor x Reader)

Here’s my entry to @firefly-in-darkness​ Winter Challenge! 

Summary: On a S.H.I.E.L.D. winter retreat, you and Thor get snowed in at a cabin together. It’s more alone time than the two of you have ever had together. Who knows how you will entertain each other...

Rating: 18+ (smut)

Word count: 3196

Tags: sex, mirror sex, squirting, orgasms, fingering, blowjob, smut, mild degradation

A/N: For Daisy’s winter writing challenge, using the prompt “Snowed in at a cabin”, and I chose Thor. I hope you enjoy! I sure did :P 

“Dammit!” you muttered looking out the window of the cosy cabin and seeing the snow inches high and covering the ground outside in an eerie blanket. That must be thigh deep, maybe even up to your bottom. You shivered at the thought and turned to the large empty cabin. This was meant to be a trip away with the Avengers and some of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who had been involved in some of the year’s activities. Now it looked like it wasn’t going to be particularly lively. Everyone had gone out skiing earlier in the day, but there was no way you were going to join them. You couldn’t skateboard, you couldn’t surf, hell, you couldn’t even roller skate. As your dad always said “you have the balance of a clumsy child” and he definitely wasn’t lying. You heard a crash upstairs. Oh great, Thor had finally woken up, apparently Gods weren’t immune to the ‘man flu’, and he had spent the day moping in bed. He came down the stairs, stomping heavily on each step. 

“Is anyone here?!” he croaked out. 

“Yes, I’m here, everyone else went skiing.”

“Oh, well when are they coming back?” he asked, looking over to you softly. You crossed your arms and swallowed, unsure how he would take the news that you were probably going to be alone and stuck in the cabin at least overnight, if not longer. 

“Um, I guess you haven’t looked out the window, huh?” you laughed nervously. Thor frowned at you and stalked across the room towards you, his face up against the window. 

“What? Just some light snow.” He looked back at you. You chuckled, forgetting how oblivious he could be. If he thought this was light then you wondered what snowfall on Asgard was like. “They can get back, I’ll just clear a path.” He stomped over to the front door of the cabin, pulling open the door. A wall of white blocked up to where the door handle had been, a small imprint in the snow. Thor moved forward into the snow.

“Thor! Stop, you’ll freeze!” Surely he couldn’t be this desperate to not be alone with you. He shuffled into the snow and it came crashing down into the lodge behind him. “Wait, you’re getting snow in here!” He stopped, looking over his shoulder to see the mess. 

“AA, AA, ACHOOO!” he roared, echoing into the silence outside. Rolling your eyes you walked over to him, grabbing his arm and trying to drag him back inside. He looked down at you pulling at his arm, clearly perplexed that you thought you could move him, the mighty Thor. “Okay, okay, fine.” He conceded and turned inside, traipsing snow through the doorway. 

“I think you’d better get out of those wet trousers,” you said, looking down at his now soggy legs. As you looked back up to his face, eyes raking across his body, lapping him up, you realised what you’d just said. His devilish grin and raised eyebrow made you blush furiously. 

“Oh really, well, Y/N, I didn’t think you were interested in me…” he goaded.

“No, that’s not what I meant, I am, I mean, I’m, you’re…” you stammered over your words and walked away from him, cheeks burning and tripping over nothing on your way.

“Y/N…” he called. You turned to him and screamed, immediately spinning back. He was stood there in his underwear, fuck, you were going to struggle getting that out of your head, and your stomach filled with butterflies. 

He laughed loudly, and snuck his way back upstairs, leaving you stood blushing with your eyes covered. He returned after a minute, seeing you in the same position as before. You hadn’t noticed he was gone, too wrapped up in your own head, thinking about his thick thighs, and the shape of his cock through his underwear. 

“Y/N,” Thor said softly. 

“I’m not turning around until you put something on.” 

He stepped close behind you, his warm musky smell adding to your distraction. Reaching around you his hands encircled your wrists and he pulled your hands away from your eyes. He spun you around, you were closer to the God than you ever had been and your heart was racing. You glanced down, seeing he had replaced the soaking joggers with checked red pyjama bottoms, and a woollen jumper. He chuckled at you.

“Checking me out again,” he grinned. You blushed again and tried to pull away from him, but your arms were still in his grasp. He released you, and you took a seat on the couch. To your surprise he came and sat near you, despite the huge space. “So what are we going to do. Stuck here, surely there’s nothing exciting. I’m bored.” Thor had gone from sexy, strong, and desirable, to bored child within a matter of seconds. You realised that being stuck here in a small cabin, on a different world, he had no idea what to do. Being surrounded by servants and entertainers and life, and now action and strategy, he had not stopped. He’d never had to just be, and find something less… loud to occupy his attention. 

“Well, we could put a Christmas movie on, or play a board game.” 

“A bored game? I just said I was bored, I don’t want to play a game which would make me more bored.” You giggled at his naivety. 

“No, a game, it’s a game on a board. Have you never played?” He shook his head, and you got up, opening the cupboard under the television and looked at the selection of games. All the classics were there as you’d expect, Catan, Cluedo, Scrabble, Frustration. No Monopoly, which was probably for the best, you could just imagine the arguments if you played that. Steve would be buried in the rule book, Thor would try and claim everything, Natasha would be winning without people noticing, and someone would definitely flip the board and rage quit. 

You pulled out Cluedo, your childhood favourite. Sitting cross legged on the other side of the settle, Thor watched as you shuffled the cards and set up the game. You explained the rules, his face fixed in a frown. 

“So you play games where someone has been murdered?” he asked.

“Well yeah, the fun is in solving the murder. And beating the other player of course.” 

***

“I WIN! Right? I solved it, it was Colonel Mustard, with the rope in the kitchen!” Thor’s face was lit up. 

“Take a look, see if you were right.” You had someone else as the murderer that you were convinced by, but maybe you were wrong. He reached for the solution and pulled the cards out slowly. He grunted and threw the cards down, standing up abruptly. 

“This game, I don’t like it.” 

“Not Colonel Mustard?” you grinned. 

“No. Hey! How did you know, you cheated!” he loomed over you. 

Laughing at him, you shook your head. “No, I didn’t cheat.”

“You’re lying! Unless there’s some sort of witchcraft in this?” he picked through the cards again. 

“Wow, you sure are a sore loser,” you chuckled. He glared at you. “Well, I think it’s Mrs. Peacock, with the rope in the kitchen.” His eyes snapped up to you, shock echoing through his face. “I’m right, huh?” you laughed at him and began to pack up the game. 

“I don’t want to play a board game,” he sulked back into his seat. You put the box away, and sat next to him, his face in a pout. “When are they gonna get back?” He stood up and stared out the window, the snow still coming down. 

“I don’t know, maybe tomorrow.” He turned to look at you, features firm and frowning slightly. “Come on, you enjoyed the board game, is it really so bad being stuck here?”

“Yes, there’s not enough space. I’m bored,” his comments were starting to rile you. “There’s nothing to do.” 

“I see, you don’t want to be stuck here with just me, I’m boring huh. Fine, I’ll go to my room.” 

“No. Y/N, that’s not what I meant.” The rest of his protest went unheard by you as you stalked upstairs in a dramatic huff. You didn’t really know why his comments were bothering you, you just wanted to be liked by him you supposed. There really wasn’t any need to be mad or upset, but you were a bit annoyed that he kept moaning about being bored. You reached your room and slammed the door behind you, hearing Thor’s heavy footsteps on the stairs. Maybe you just needed a warm bath to relax you a little, and you padded into the bathroom and began to run your bath, dumping about a quarter of the bottle of lavender bubble bath in. Excessive, but oh well, you needed to unwind. You stripped off, before realising you’d left your towel at the bottom of your bed. Walking through to the bedroom in just your bra and panties, you weren’t expecting Thor to be stood there. You yelped and grabbed your towel, covering yourself. 

“What the hell are you doing?” you shouted at him.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he turned away slightly, allowing you to cover yourself properly, “I just, I, I do want to be stuck here with just you. I mean, I’ve enjoyed being here with you.” Why was he stumbling over his words, you hadn’t seen him like this before.

“Oh, well, I’ve uh, me too. I’m going for a bath,” you looked at him, still a little angry and turned towards the bathroom. You padded over to the bathtub and bent over to test the water, and turned off the taps. Thor moaned quietly behind you, and you looked up. His eyes were fixed on your ass, which had been exposed when you’d bent down. 

“Y/N, you don’t know what you’ve done to me, today has been claustrophobic, trapped in the cabin with you, not being able to distract myself from you or avoid you. Seeing you check me out, seeing you blushing, watching you concentrate on the game. Fuck, Y/N, you’ve been driving me wild.” He stepped towards you, and your heart was racing. Was he saying what you thought he was? He towered over you, stroking your hair, and moving to tilt your head to him. He moved slowly, cautiously to your lips. 

You moaned into him as he filled your senses, that musky smell infiltrating your nose and breath, his warm lips and scratchy beard kissing at your lips desperately, his tongue pushing into you. His hand reached around you and ripped the towel away from you, leaving you in your underwear again. You whimpered between his lips and his hands grasped at you desperately. He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him, your hands reaching into his hair. Feeling his muscles under his jumper, and the strength of his arms around you was quickly causing the heat between your legs to become more and more uncomfortable. He carried you through to your bedroom, crashing against the door on your way. He pinned you against the door, running his hands up your body, and pulling at your bra. It fell away from you and to the floor, quickly being replaced by Thor’s hands. Kissing down your neck, his mouth fixed around your nipple and he pulled on it, nibbling a little. You mewled as his teeth made contact, and his fingers pinched at your other nipple. Fuck. He grabbed your waist again, and carried you the rest of the way to your bed, throwing you down on it. 

Pulling the jumper over his head, he revealed his rippling muscles. Your mouth dropped open, entranced by his incredible abs and biceps, mind racing with the different ways he could ruin you. He smirked as you watching him, and climbed on to you, taking your lips onto his. You leaned backwards and he ran his hand up your arm, entwining his fingers in yours and pushing your hand firmly into the bed. His hips ground into you, rubbing the sensitive part between your legs. You needed more, you needed him inside you. Reaching down between you, you cupped and stroked his length.

Thor growled, “eager to have me are you?” You nodded and bit down on your lip. He pulled away from you, and chuckled at the lust and pain at the sudden loss of him in your eyes. He paused for a moment, looking at you hungrily, his eyes gazing down your body. With his finger, he gently stroked your slit through your underwear. 

“Soaked for me already?” You whimpered, blushing that your body had given away your need. Bucking your hips forward you tried to get more friction, to get his finger on your clit, but he pulled away and spanked you softly. You let out a moan and threw your head back. He was so frustrating. The smirk on his lips only made you more annoyed, and pouting you sat up, reaching forward to pull his boxers off. His hard cock sprung free; you had no idea how you were going to be able to take him. You moved to kneel in front of him. Wrapping your hand around him, you worked him into your mouth, barely even halfway down his length you could feel him at the back of your throat. The thought of what he was going to do to your pussy caused you to whimper around him, tasting his salty precum on your tongue. 

His hands had been stroking through your hair, and pawing at your breasts while you sucked him, the wetness between your legs, still soaking through your panties. Without warning he pulled you off him flipping you over onto your front. Grabbing your hips he pulled you to your knees, and ripped off your underwear, leaving them torn and flung across the room. You were exposed and almost dripping in front of him. He slid his fingers between your lips instantly coated in your juices, and slid one thick finger inside you. He stilled.

“Please, Thor, I need more,” you moaned and rocked into his finger, trying to build friction, desperate for an orgasm. 

“Mm, but watching you fuck yourself on my finger is really something. Maybe I’ll let you have another.” A second finger pushed at your entrance. You couldn’t help but continue to fuck yourself on him, getting yourself closer to a release. But too soon, he slipped his fingers out of you. You whined at the sudden emptiness, and his hands reached around you, lifting you up, your back flush to his hard chest, feeling his cock tease you. He walked over to the mirror in the corner of the room, and placed you down. 

“Back on your knees baby, I want to watch you come undone on my cock.” You obeyed him instantly, your self-consciousness overcome by the desperation to come. He pushed your back down until your nipples brushed the carpet and nudged your legs open. The tip of his cock nudged at your entrance, sliding in gently. You clenched around him, your body acclimatising to the sudden fullness. With one hand on your hip, the other reached forward, twisting your hair around it. He thrust into you, harder, hitting your cervix, and set a maddening pace. Within a minute of him fucking you, you screamed around him, and seeing him fucking you in the mirror, lustful delight across his face, the coil inside you snapped. He moaned gruffly, your body shaking at the intensity of your orgasm. 

He pulled back on your shoulders, holding you pressed against him. You leaned your head back into his chest, your boobs sticking out, as your back arched, still impaled on his cock. 

“Look in the mirror. Look at yourself,” he whispered in your ear, and you made eye contact with him in you reflection. “I said, look at yourself. Look at the wetness between your legs, and the way my cock looks inside you. Look at the way your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes, the eyes of a woman who cannot get enough of me. Look at my hand pulling on your nipple.” Another orgasm was building as he whispered next to you. His cock rammed into you, hitting your sweet spot over and over. He kissed your neck, his hand still rubbing at your nipple, whilst his other that pinned you to him began to bruise you. Without warning your second orgasm hit, and you leaked over his cock, wetness trickling down your legs as you screamed around him. He didn’t pause this time, continuing to fuck you, biting on your shoulder now. He moaned in your ear, grunting as you felt him spill inside you. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you are incredible.” He kissed your shoulder again, slowly pulling away, both of you wincing at the sensitivity. Thor stood up behind you, and gently lifted you to your feet. He swept you up, pausing to grab your towel, and carried you to the bathroom.

“Let’s have a bath, baby.” He kissed your lips and you smiled, still swimming in the high of your orgasm. He placed you down, and climbed into the bath, not letting go of your hand, he helped you balance and step into the tub. You settled into his arms, and spent time wrapped up together, soaking in the hot water until it began to cool. 

You heard footsteps and voices outside your door, shit, how did the others get in? Panicking you jumped out of the bath, quickly wrapping your towel around you. 

“Y/N! Thor! Where are you?” Tony’s voice echoed through your door. Bloody Stark, you knew he’d have found a way to get back, the hazard of being surrounded by geniuses and super heroes. You walked across the room to your door opening it slightly.

“Sorry, I was in the bath.” Tony smiled, noticing the red mark on your shoulder where Thor had bitten you, and looking over you seeing the messy bed covers and your underwear strewn across the room, a grin spread over his face. “What’s happened here, Y/N? Was there a fight? Have you seen Thor?” Tony pushed past you, looking around the room. 

“Umm no, everything’s fine, are you sure he isn’t um, in bed still?” You lied, your face beet red. An almighty splash came from behind you, and Thor walked into the room, dripping wet and butt naked. 

“What do you want Tony? I was enjoying a nice bath, is there an emergency?” Now it was Tony’s turn to blush, eyeing the muscled God before looking down to you, eyebrows raised. 

“No, I’m fine, just checking you’re okay,” and he skipped out of your room, grinning like a child. 

“What did you do that for?! Now everyone is gonna know what happened?” You turned to face Thor, pouting at him. 

Thor grinned and kissed you deeply, pulling you into his arms. “Well they’re going to hear you screaming my name again at some point, sweetheart.”

Taglist: @negans-lucille-tblr​ @just-the-hiddles​ @markofdean79​

My Taglist is open :) Thanks for reading! 

[ours-is-feral-love]

Red Sand

A/N: And . . . another one. Really couldn’t get this idea out of my head. [SPOILERS if you’ve not finished the show!]

Enjoy.

Summary: Alyssa sneaks into the hospital where James is being held following his capture. [T for language ] [Word Count: 2,621] [Alyssa’s POV]

I look the police officer over carefully from where I sit, watching his heavy eyelids droop over his evil eyes. He shouldn’t be too hard to fool. He looks like quite an idiot.

Nurses and doctors pass by on a continual loop, each of them shooting nervous glances at the doorway behind the drowsy PC. I want to tell them all to fuck off. I want to shout it really, really loudly. Scream it until I can’t speak anymore. Until there’s blood coming out of my mouth. But I stop myself. Making a scene won’t do me any good. No one can know I am here. Mum thinks I’m tucked underneath my duvet like some fucking caterpillar waiting to become a butterfly.

They’re scared of him. They’re all terrified he’s going to escape his restraints and slaughter them as if he is a psychotic serial killer.

Pussies. Each and every one of them.

None of them know who he is. They don’t know what really happened that night. They think they do because of the shitty news coverage, but the media is full of liars and money-loving fakes. And a story about an unhinged boy on a crime spree sneaking into a rapist’s house intending to murder said rapist sells better than the truth. That James only killed him to protect me.

He’s a hero. He deserves a medal, not shackles. Not a bullet hole in his left arm.

I heard on the BBC they had to give him blood transfusions because of how much of his own supply he lost on the beach. Because the bullet that hit him snagged an artery on its way out.

It’s been nearly a week, and I’ve unintentionally blocked that day from my memories, but I remember that bit. I hear that final gunshot as I sit staring at the sleeping officer and I see James go down as if it’s happening all over again. He sprawls on the ground, arms and legs at strange angles. I’m still screeching his name, but he isn’t moving. And there’s red. It’s everywhere, spilling over the wet sand . . .

I close my eyes before I lose my shit in the middle of the hospital. I breathe in a shaky breath, clutching the seat of the uncomfortable chair I am occupying near James’ room. The scratchy vinyl feels gross, but the cracks in the material scrape my palms and the pain is somehow soothing.

I think I've always needed a little bit of pain to get me through the day. It's why I put up with Tony for so long. Why I let my mum talk down to me like I was the most massive disappointment. Of course, I'm suffering a lot more than I'm used to at the moment. General teenage angst seems to have not prepared me for a situation like this. A situation that involves the boy you love being shot and then shackled to a hospital bed.

I am so lost right now.

But I know if I could see him, just for a second, that everything would fall back into place. I won't be so lost when I get past that snoozing guard.

I open my eyes and get to my feet. It's time for some fucking action. I pinch my cheeks, slouch my shoulders, and push my bottom lip out. Satisfied that I look like someone in need of some help, I approach the policeman.

I poke him hard on the arm. He jerks awake, and for a moment I just want to slap him. Bring him to the ground and beat the shit out of him. But I manage to hold myself back.

The man's bulging eyes look me up and down. His face softens.

It is this moment I am outrageously glad my parents’ genes mixed in just the right way to make me look like a fucking twelve-year-old.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" he asks in that voice my mum uses when she's talking to the twins.

Ugh. The desire to punch him comes over me again. He's even more fucking disgusting than I thought.

“Some—someone stole my bag." I sniffle, watching the geezer before me take on a hardened look of determination. "It had a present for my mum in it."

"Okay, darling. Which way did he go?" He reaches out for my hand, but I quickly use that one to point behind me.

No way do I want this old creep touching me.

"That way. I think I saw him going down the stairs. He's probably not even here anymore." I put my face in my hands and pretend to cry. I make ugly noises for added effect.

Maybe I should be a fucking actor when I grow up. Do they let criminals on TV?

"Don't cry," he says. "Don't cry. Look. I can't leave this spot, but I can ask a nurse to take you down to the security desk and they can help find your bag. Okay?"

Not okay. So not okay.

I remove my hands, frowning. "I need to find it now! My mum is dying of fucking cancer and you can't be a decent enough policeman to help me get back the present I bought for her with literally all of my fucking money? What if she dies in the time it takes for me to go down and start explaining this shit show to someone else?"

Gotcha.

The officer's face is wide. His mouth hangs open. His saucepan eyes swerve around the room, making sure no one is watching us.

"Okay," he says in an angry, hushed tone. "Okay, I'll see what I can do. What did the man look like?"

He stands up, straightening the weapons belt around his hips.

"Tall. Dark eyes, brown hair. Wearing a dark grey sweater with blue jeans and black snazzy shoes. Tan. Probably forty or so," I say. It’s Tony’s description. Maybe he’ll be walking down the street when the PC comes along. 

Turning as the policeman does, my back is now to the door. 

I can practically feel James.

My heart thumps wildly in anticipation. It hurts. I can't breathe.

"Alright." He motions to the seat at the back of my knees. "Stay here. Make sure no one goes inside."

"Why?" I ask as he starts walking away. "What's behind the door?"

"A monster," he says.

That's it. If I see him again, I'm definitely punching him.

I nod in agreement to his request, staring after him as he disappears round a corner.

This is it. I turn towards the room and shove the chair out of the way, moving close enough to the door that I can smell the wood. I reach for the handle. It’s cold, but unlocked. Twisting slowly, my eyes darting left and right, praying to the countless number of deities I’ve heard of throughout my whole life that I won’t get caught, I hear a click and the door falls inward. I go with it, pressed to the wood, and sneak inside the room.

I actually gasp. Like a fucking cartoon or something. The door closes softly behind me. I look around the room. There are wires and machines everywhere. Beeping noises collapse against my eardrums.

A heartbeat. James’ heartbeat.

And there he is. Right in front of me, asleep, looking sickly and pale and like he hasn’t properly showered in a few days. His arm is in a sling. He is connected to a saline drip through an IV via his uninjured arm. He is cuffed, too. To the side of the bed. There is a metal handcuff around his thin wrist.

God, I am so fucked off. I want to go at the restraint with a chainsaw.

Looking at him makes me want to cry. It always has. Ever since we first met. But right now, I really want to cry. More badly than I have ever wanted to before.

But I shouldn’t. I can’t. I need to be strong for him.

Swallowing the giant cricket ball forming in my oesophagus, I creep on my tiptoes towards the giant hospital bed. He looks even worse close up. There’s a dark shadow over the bottom half of his face. Deep purple bags lie underneath his closed eyes.

I’m too far gone. I can’t stop the tears. They crawl down my cheeks, slip past my chin, and land on the grey-blue blanket covering James’ body. One, as I move my head to get a better look at his face, drips over his eyelids.

He comes awake. The beeping grows quicker. I swear my lungs have stopped working. Reaching out, I place my hand over his mouth as his eyes snap open. His jaw parts. Hidden behind my palm, I feel his heavy breaths bathe my skin.

“Shh,” I warn, breathless. “I’m not supposed to be here. We don’t have much time.”

He shakes his head and I lift my hand. “You need to leave,” he says. It comes out all croaky and dry. He’s broken.

It makes me so angry. If he had just let me come with him, none of this shit would be happening.

If only I hadn’t been silly enough to believe my dad was a decent fucking human being, we would be in Switzerland by now, hiding in a bakery or skiing down some snow-capped mountain.

“I’m staying,” I say defiantly. He can’t tell me what to do.

He starts to sit up, but the effort exhausts him and he quickly lies back down. His brilliant eyes—the most beautiful things I’ve literally ever seen—gaze up at me. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

To be honest, I don’t want to see him like this. But I hold off on telling him that. “I don’t care what you look like. I don’t care that you’re handcuffed. James,” I say, the tears forming again. I reach for his chained hand. His fingers are sweaty, but he holds onto me regardless, entwining our fingers. I could collapse in a heap of despair like those women in the 19th century used to. “What’s gonna happen to you?”

“I’m not sure,” he says.

The words come out thin and brittle. I think there’s a cricket ball in his throat too. With my spare hand, I grab the cup of water by his bed and slowly, like he’s a baby, I tip the cup towards his mouth. He swallows a couple of gulps and coughs away any excess dryness. He mutters a thanks and I return the cup to its original spot.

“They’re keeping me here until my arm heals a bit more,” he says. “And then I’ll be moved to a jail to await trial. Then I’ll be prosecuted.”

He says it with such indifference that I find myself wanting to take him by the shoulders and shake him viciously.

“How can you be okay with this?” I ask, my face hot and wet. My lips tremble. My forehead hurts from frowning. “None of this is okay. None at all. It’s a giant mess—a total miscarriage of justice.”

I’ve been watching a lot of that American TV show Law and Order while under house arrest.

The longer I stare frustratedly at James half-lying down on his hospital bed, the blurrier he gets. But I blink rapidly, clearing my vision, when his face bunches. He's crying too. Not as much as me, but there's a small tear trolling down his scruffy face. Instinct compels me to wipe it away. I scrape at it with my thumb and hold my hand against his warm cheek. He presses into me, nostrils billowing like a curtain caught by the wind.

Okay. So, he isn't okay with this.

"I'm sorry," I say, rubbing the tear back into his skin. "I know you're just trying to be brave."

"I just," he says, "want to be with you."

My heart is going to explode. Is it possible for words to kill you?

"And I know that when they put me away, I'm not going to be able to be with you anymore," he continues, the words vibrating. "I don't want that to happen."

Fuck. Neither do I.

"I'll come see you," I promise. "And when you get out, we can be together again." My knees are starting to buckle under all the pressure. I hold tight to James. "Maybe we can get married . . . and then I'd get those conjugal visit things."

It's a joke. Mum would sooner disown me and throw me in the streets than allow me to marry a convicted felon.

But it does make James laugh. And that makes me smile. And some of that pressure lifts away.

"You would visit me?" he asks, and I sense the genuine worry.

"Yes. Fuck, I'd be in there with you if I could." If you'd let me. “Can I lie down?”

“What?”

“In the bed with you,” I say. “Just for a minute.” The guard’ll be on his way back soon. I’ll need to set off before then. But I need to lie with him. To feel his body against mine one last time before he’s taken away from me.

“I don’t know how easy it will be.” James looks to his shackled wrist and then to his bullet-hole-ridden arm.

I start climbing in, kicking my sandals off and bunching up the yellow sundress Mum got me when I was released from hospital the day James got captured. I wore it so she would let me out of the house. How long does she think it takes to pick up chocolate from the Co-op?

James can’t move a lot, but he slides over to make room for me. Lying on my side, pressing my hand flat against his chest, I rest my head on his shoulder. We sigh together. A sound of true contentment.

As much as he can, James holds me. His shackled fingers bend and move over the skin of my neck. I shiver into his hospital gown. For someone who looks so horrible, he smells just the same as always. Like lavender soap. I breathe him in, forcing myself to memorise the scent.

“You changed your hair,” he notes, fiddling with the short strands that just barely reach my neck.

“Mum took me to the salon immediately,” I say. Guess she wasn’t all that fucking pleased about the blond. “The woman made it too dark. I don’t like it.”

“Well, I do,” James says.

I smile into his neck.

I shouldn’t be happy at all. Things are about to get a whole lot worse for the both of us. But he’s touching me and I’m touching him, and everything just feels . . . right. I know it’ll be gone the instant I leave this room, but I will revel in it for the few minutes I have.

“You shouldn’t have come,” James says.

I lift myself up. Our faces are only a few centimetres apart. His breaths wash over my face. “Why?” I ask, confused and hurt.

James continues stroking every piece of available skin. “Now that you’re here, I don’t want you to leave.”

Oh.

“I don’t want to leave,” I tell him.

“But you have to.”

“But I have to,” I agree. “But not yet. In a minute.”

I have to kiss him. I have to remember the feel of his mouth on mine.

Lowering my face the tiniest bit, I close my eyes and affix my lips to his. He can’t properly embrace me, and I can’t move too much for fear of further injuring him, but he is soft against me and that’s all that matters.

I was wrong before. Now everything is right. The seas have calmed. The earth has stopped turning. And it’s James and me against the world.