[enolive/mphfpc] chasing shadows

so this is love

A/N: Some angsty fluff (as per usual) - hope this brightens your day because don't we all need a little sunshine sometimes?

A little bit of a warning: implied(?) sexual intercourse, nothing too graphic; just a warning for those faint of heart (but we're all fanfiction readers here, so this shouldn't be new...)

•

Enoch slips a hand into hers, calloused fingers tapping gently along her palm. Her face streaks bright, bright red, and a dizzying smile lights up her face. Olive speaks his name, once, breath coming out in a sigh, both a question and an answer. He doesn't reply (did he hear her?), and she presses her lips together, going quiet.

A few beats of silence pound between them, then it's his turn to sigh. His free hand comes up, brushing against her, raising her chin just slightly so her can look squarely into her eyes. She shudders at the impact of skin on skin.

(Good thing their new room has soundproof walls.)

Her breath catches, and she barely dares to breathe. She should say something, do something, but his touch is so scarce, and she wants to savor every moment while it's still here. Enoch lifts his free hand, gently cupping her chin. He draws near her, lips pressing delicately against hers, grazing her cheeks, her nose, her forehead. Olive's face reddens profusely, but her eyes are sparkling. "You're amazing," he whispers into her ear.

Olive blushes even darker, and she ducks her head, her gaze falling down but her lips turning up. A soft laugh escapes his mouth. "You're naked and on top of me and this is what you're embarrassed of?" She frowns at him, the spell broken; her lips part but he kisses them before she can say anything.

("You know that's not what I meant.")

("I know.")

She's not completely satisfied, but it's not in her nature to speak up. He hates that she never speaks her mind, never truly says her own opinion, but her eyes are creased and tinged with a certain sadness, so he'll let her have her silence, just this once. The air is flushed with the easy, slow thrum of their love and he smiles when she falls asleep with his arms around her.

•

They come down from their high together, slowly, slowly unclenching, and Enoch closes his eyes.

"I love you."

Olive breathes the words into his ear, voice barely above a whisper. It takes all of her courage to spit them out, and all of her willpower not to take them back as soon as they leave her mouth.

His eyes flash open, dark and smoldering, and he doesn't meet her gaze.

A heartbeat passes.

Silence.

It's deafening.

Very carefully all of the sudden, he moves off of her, laying her on the bed beneath him. He sits back, eyes scrolling over her, but still not meeting hers. It's as if he didn't hear her (but she knows that's not true, because he gasped, just slightly, when she spoke).

She's never felt more exposed.

His lips trail down her skin, kissing every inch of her exposed skin. His hands take hers, running his fingers along her palm. She lets out a breathy moan, inhaling sharply, but her body is limp, and she doesn't respond to his ministrations other than an intake of air when he bites too hard.

His mouth leaves pink marks on her skin, motions soft and tender, sweeter than they've ever been; this is all she's ever asked of him, but each kiss is another second gone by, another second where he doesn't say it back.