hang out in your heart

that's why this all feels so damn good

Well, Lindsey muses, they might as well just go ahead and add "with benefits" to the "friends" moniker Stevie has been so insistent on them using.

The thought occurs to him early one morning as his lips are occupied with caressing Stevie's, so soft and warm and welcoming against his own. They'd woken together as usual, and, as had become usual for the past several days at least, proceeded to start making out like a couple of teenagers. The first time it had happened, Lindsey had been floored, Stevie attacking his lips despite her firm insistence that they were going to focus on their friendship. When she had acted like nothing was wrong afterwards, though, he'd relaxed, figuring they were allowed a slip every once in a while. With them it was inevitable, and to be fair, they'd never in their whole lives had what any normal person would deem a typical friendship.

But the next morning had again found them nuzzling together in the stillness of the early hour, sharing the kind of kisses that had him thinking twice about what exactly they were to each other, Stevie melting into him as if she had no other way she'd want to spend her morning. As easily as they'd slipped into the habit of falling asleep together each night, as simply as his staying the night with her became a routine, their new practice of exchanging sweet kisses immediately after waking up each morning had just...happened.

Lindsey focuses back on the mouth currently exploring his own; he bites her bottom lip gently, pulling at it before letting it go and allowing her tongue to slip into his mouth. She lets out an endearing little whine, her hands grasping at his waist. He lets himself smile into her kiss, enjoying the way she pulls him into her without reservation. He knows her so well, knows that she, like him, must be contemplating just what would happen if they let themselves give in to their incessant desires, but he's willing to let her be the one to make the move every time.

Their promise to each other back in November on that starlit night under the Northern Lights had weighed heavily on his conscience since then, his insistence that he could handle just being her friend coming back to taunt him. He'd known even back then what she'd not been able to admit to herself: they never have and never would be able to be just friends. The instinctual need for each other is in their blood, runs through their veins with each beat of their longing hearts, and he knows that sooner or later that need would rise to the surface once again. It always does. But until she comes to that realization herself, he's willing to wait, to endure the sweet torture of her kisses, closely guarded and willingly given.

Because of this, he's tried to allow her to call the shots each morning, to initiate these moments on her own terms, but as he feels her pull back for a gulp of air, he can't help pushing the boundaries slightly, dipping his head underneath her chin and running his tongue over the dip above her clavicle. He hesitates for just a half a second, waiting to see if she'll chastise him for changing the game, but she just cups the back of his head with her small hand, moaning and lifting a leg over his hip. Oh. Well maybe she's as okay with things moving forward as he is. He never would have thought it, from the way she had freaked out upon waking in the middle of the night last week.

"Oh Lindsey," she exhales on a groan, and his mouth opens, his tongue exploring the skin of her neck. She tastes exactly the same as she always did, and he almost wants to cry with how right it feels. He moves his mouth down to her shoulder, sucking at her soft skin where he knows it would be okay to leave a mark. This is how her dream should have ended the other night, Lindsey thinks. This is how every morning should have started for the past several months. None of that 'just friends' bullshit; this is the real, bare truth of what the two of them are to each other.

Her leg is still wrapped low around his hips, and he can't help pushing them into hers slightly, releasing a groan from deep within his chest as he does so, two thin layers of fabric the only things separating him from where he truly wants to be. As the sound of his own voice reaches his ears, he recognizes that this is so close to getting out of hand, and he tries to hold himself back, knowing that as the minutes race on, it's only going to get harder to stop before this comes to its inevitable conclusion. Her languid movements, her little sighs and whispers, the warmth of her mouth as she bends her head down to his ear and bites at the lobe; it's too overwhelming. If she's going to want to stop, he's going to need her to do it now, before the point of no return. As much as he hates to interrupt whatever this is, he needs to give her an out if she wants it. Her words to Christine, overheard back in England, flash into his mind, her revelation that she doesn't trust him. He wants her to know that he's not willing to throw away the tiny bit of faith he's managed to build with her during the past few months. With each of these intimate moments, he knows she's placing her heart in his hands, and he gladly would hold it there forever, keep it safe from the havoc they always wreak in their wake.