He had, perhaps, gotten carried away the first time. Just some fun, she'd said. Scientifically? Stress relief, he's agreed. Nothing serious. The fire of their reckless desire had consumed them both, leaving their skin burning where they touched, and they had well and truly gotten lost in each other.
How many times had it happened since? Wilson could not bring himself to count. He felt certain he'd never get bored of exploring the hills and valleys of Willow's body and committing them to memory. Despite his mental mapping, he still found his eyes lost in hers when they met, still found his hand lost in her tangle of black hair.
The nibbling on her skin, now too gentle to leave a mark, inevitably softened to trailing kisses across her body anywhere he could reach, even as her nails dug into his back.
He didn't mind it, was glad to know she was enjoying herself so thoroughly, but he could no longer bring himself to give her matching wounds. If Willow wanted her skin- her beautiful, soft, perfect skin damaged, wanted to be torn and bitten and bleeding, there were a million and one things waiting outside that would love to mar her flesh.
A man of the mind, Wilson found it hard to tune out these thoughts. A particularly nagging worry at the back of his mind whispered something that quietly got lost amidst Willow's passionate moans.
Wilson took a moment to regard the whole of Willow before him. She was not a fragile porcelain doll to be hidden away safely on a high shelf, but still something precious, something that should be fiercely guarded, all the same.
"Willl-sonn!" Willow cried impatiently. Oh! Lost in his thoughts, he'd stilled. Doing his best to quiet his mind, he brought his body back into rhythm with hers.
