The water had grown cool around us, but neither of us seemed to notice. Cassandra's breathing had finally steadied, though she still trembled slightly in my arms. Her emerald eyes held a mixture of wonder and vulnerability that made my chest tight.
She looks like she's seeing the world for the first time.
"We should..." I began, then stopped. The practical part of my brain was screaming about wet floors and privacy, but the rest of me wanted to stay suspended in this moment forever.
She nodded, understanding without words. Her fingers traced my jawline with reverent touches, like she was memorizing the feel of my skin.
God, the way she's looking at me...
I stood slowly, water steam cascading from our bodies, and helped her step from the bath. The cool air made her shiver, and I reached for the plush towels Anna had left warming by the enchanted heating stones.
"Here," I murmured, wrapping the soft fabric around her shoulders. My hands lingered longer than necessary, and she leaned into the touch.
"Marcus," she whispered, and there was something in her voice—a question, a promise, a confession all rolled into one.
She's asking if, I'm sure. If this is real.
I cupped her face gently, thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. "I know," I said quietly. "I feel it too."
Her smile was radiant and fragile at the same time.
Like watching the sun rise through stained glass.
I dried myself quickly, then took her hand. Our fingers intertwined naturally, like they'd been designed to fit together. The short walk to my bedroom felt both eternal and instantaneous.
"This is us, dear big sister~"
"..."
We stood at the threshold of my room, and I could feel the weight of the moment. Once we crossed this line, everything would change. Not just between us, but in the very fabric of reality itself.
The System's been quiet. Probably giving us privacy for this.
Cassandra squeezed my hand, her pulse racing against my palm. "Are you nervous?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
I considered lying, playing the confident seducer. But looking into her eyes, I found myself being honest instead.
"Terrified," I admitted. "But not of you. Never of you."
She smiled, and some of the tension in her shoulders melted away. "Good. I was afraid I was the only one."
Even in this moment, she's worried about me. About us.
I lifted our joined hands and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. "Together?"
"Together."
We stepped across the threshold, and I felt something shift in the air around us—like the world itself was holding its breath.
Here we go.
I carried her.
Not because she was weak—but because I needed to feel her in my arms. Held close, like something sacred. My skin still damp from the bath, her body soft and warm against mine. Every step toward the bed felt like stepping deeper into a dream we'd both denied for too long.
This is it. The moment that would change everything.
Her arms looped around my neck, her head resting on my shoulder like it belonged there. Like she was molded to fit into that space, into me. Each heartbeat seemed to echo in both our chests, a shared rhythm pulling us forward.
The room glowed softly—just the golden flicker of a candle painting trembling shadows across linen sheets. The warmth stones under the floor hummed faintly, their gentle heat making the air feel separate from the world outside.
Our world. Just ours.
I laid her down like she was made of starlight and bone china. Her hair fanned across the pillow in a spill of liquid fire, her chest rising in perfect time with mine. For a long breath, I just watched her—truly saw her. The shimmer in her emerald eyes. The way her lips—still swollen from our kisses—held the faintest tremble. The trust there. The surrender.
She's beautiful in ways that have nothing to do with flesh. Beautiful because of the way she looks at me.
Like I'm everything.
I hovered above her, dripping water across her skin in slow, deliberate trails. Each droplet drawing a shiver from her body—not from cold, but from what she knew was coming.
From me.
Her fingers reached up and touched my cheek as if trying to memorize it. Etching it into something eternal.
"Marcus," she whispered, like my name was the last word in a forgotten prayer. "I've wanted this for so long. Longer than I ever let myself admit."
She's been carrying it too. This yearning. This heat. All those years spent pretending to protect me, to stand just a little too far away—maybe they were her shield too.
"I want you," she breathed. "All of you. Forever."
Forever. It wasn't just a word. It was a vow. A sealing.
I didn't answer right away. I didn't need to. Instead, I traced my thumb along her bottom lip, feeling her breath catch as her eyes fluttered closed.
"Cassandra," I said, voice low. "Look at me."
She opened them. Green fire. Violet starlight. And something deeper.
"This isn't just physical," I murmured. "You know that." The System. The bond. What's about to happen… it'll bind us. Change us. There's no going back.
I need her to understand. This isn't fleeting. This isn't want. This is destiny made flesh.
Her hand closed over mine, anchoring me. "I've been ready my whole life. I just didn't know who I was waiting for until now."
"..."
Then I kissed her.
Not hunger. Not haste. Just surrender. A kiss that wove promises into breath, that whispered of eternities, of soul-mirrors, of something more ancient than lust and deeper than desire.
She tastes like fire and longing and every piece of me I'd buried.
We moved together slowly, not out of hesitation but out of reverence. Like we were writing a ritual with our bodies. Every touch was deliberate, every breath a verse.
I traced her features with my fingertips first—the proud arch of her brow, the delicate slope of her cheekbone, the lips still tingling from mine. Down to her collarbones, where heat pulsed beneath skin like lightning waiting to strike.
"You're trembling," I said softly, my palms mapping her slowly.
"Because it's real," she whispered. "Because it's you. Because I dreamed of this a thousand times and none of them were this right."
A thousand times. And now—this one.
I took my time. Let her feel everything. Let her know what she meant with hands that spoke in devotion, not haste. Her body arched into mine, every sigh, every gasp, every quiet plea echoing that sacred truth: we were made for this.
"Marcus," she gasped again, voice breaking, breathless. "Please…"
She's ready.
So am I.
I leaned down, kissed the hollow of her throat, felt her breath hitch beneath me. My hand slid slowly along the curve of her waist, memorizing her shape like scripture. Her thighs parted under mine, a silent invitation, a declaration more honest than words.
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A/N: THOUGHTS?