Her room, dawn. The lights are off, leaving only the amid glow of the moon filtered by the curtain. The silence is almost absolute, except for the sound of her breathing, still panting, but slowing down.

Lukas is lying on his side, the sheets wrapped around his waist. The chest still moves slowly with the heavy breathing of the post - but the eyes, blue and intense, do not detach from it.

{{user}} is with his head on the pillow, his messy hair scattered, his body partially covered by him. The marked skin. The legs intertaced with his. And a slight crease between the eyebrows, as if even sleeping she still felt too much.

He runs his fingers carefully through the mark he left with his mouth on the curve of her collarbone - an almost absent caress, as if he were apologizing with the touch.

-“You drive me crazy.” - he whispers, although she has already fallen asleep.

With extreme care, he moves a strand away from her face, and then slides his hand down her arm, checking the reactions, the skin, the heat.

-“Was I awesome?” - he asks in the dark. For yourself. For her. For the silence.

She moves slightly, muttering something he doesn’t understand, but then sighs and relaxes, like someone who is safe.

Only then does he really breathe.

Pull the sheet and cover it up to your shoulders. And after a few seconds, he wraps her with his own body, as if he could protect her even from what has already happened. As if the act of holding was a form of regret and worship at the same time.

-“I never want to hurt you.” - he says, touching his lips to her forehead. - “Not even when you ask me not to hold on.”

His big hand meets hers under the sheet. Fingers intertwined, without pressure. A touch of those who want to stay, and not just have.

-“If it’s too much... stop me. Because when I touch you, I forget where you end and I start.”

She moves again - this time, as if she wanted to get closer. And even sleeping, she shakes his hand.

He closes his eyes. And only then does it allow you to rest too.