deep regrets

by 7stormyseas

Summary:

Lara broke up with you two years ago for your own safety, now you're back in her life- ready to make her realize just how much she regretted that decision.

Notes:

be nice to me this was my first attempt at a slowburn

i love lara SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much omg

not proofread! ignore any mistakes and enjoy !

. . . Lara never did like when people would visit her unannounced, especially not this late at night– she can hear it thundering outside of the window in her bedroom, her eyes trained on the ceiling. She had trouble sleeping, her body always feeling heavy whenever her mind would start running about the different places she's been– the things she's seen, she's always felt restless at the manor- never quite felt like she could get any meaningful rest. It brought back too many memories, made her think of the past– and she hated that, hated thinking about things she could've done differently– choices she had to make, it was tiring- even as she sat there in the large expanse of her bed– laying restless.

 

. . .

 

Accompanied by the noise of rain tapping against the roof, hitting the glass of her window, dripping and giving her an uncomfortable ambience of weather that should be calming, Besides the thundering of lightning crackling every few minutes– She can hear knocking, someone banging on the front door of the manor, it's one thing she hated about her home- it was old– and sound traveled easily.

 

Lara drags herself out of bed, the cold floors doing little to help her retain the heat she had been preserving within her blankets– it's freezing, and she swears she needs to start a fire– atleast get some warmth, maybe fall asleep on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her, a pillow to comfort her–. Part of her believes it’s just another interviewer really trying to kick her while she’s down, spread a few more rumors about a certain miss Lara Croft holed up in her manor being a recluse, but she never, ever in all of her years since she lost you– would she have expected to see you , her former lover- The two of you were forced to split during a more dangerous period of time given her career– contact had been hard to keep, but. . .

 

. . .

 

Here you are, two years later– after Lara had been traveling across the world, near impossible to track down– even harder to have a clear conversation with. . . She's finally back in England, and after a sudden call out of the blue from her best friend, a subtle hint that she'd be home awhile from Jonah- you had bought a plane ticket, flew out– and though it's midnight, you just needed to see her, to see how she's been doing– ask her how things have been with her archeology– but. . .

 

. . .

 

Now you're sitting out at the front of the house, completely drenched in rainwater, you had been impulsive, made a mistake with not really planning out how your trip to England was going to go, you had no hotel– your mind was just set on seeing Lara again, but. . . you clench your fingers together, taking a deep breath as you try to calm the way they’re shaking in. . . anticipation? Fear? you don’t know what exactly you had planned to do, to say once she opens this dreaded door, but your mind is racing– you can’t get it to slow down to think clearly enough.

 

. . .

 

You know she's awake, she was always one to be up late at night during the ungodliest hours because of her inability to fall asleep at normal times– but that also means you know she's been ignoring your knocks.

 

. . .

 

You hadn't texted her, you weren't sure why– part of you was afraid she had her number changed through the years– another part just. . . dreaded seeming like you were desperate to see her– but here you are, waiting like you were punished- kicked out of the house you’ve never even step foot inside of since the two of you had broken up– all to see if Lara will open the door, maybe even let you in if she’s feeling generous enough.

 

. . .

 

And when she does, you jolt upright– eyes as wide as hers, out of everyone in this world that knows her address– she never expected the person to be knocking on her front door at midnight to be you.

 

. . .

 

"Hi, Lara." You speak out– a bit awkwardly, you don't know what to say– really, part of you didn't realize how much you had missed her, how badly you missed the sight of her, she's here in front of you now– and your skin is buzzing like you've just made an extraordinary discovery.

 

. . .

 

"Sorry– I know it's late– I just. . . Jonah told me you'd be home– not on another expedition for awhile– I. . . just really needed to see you."

Lara's eyes widen in shock as she takes in the sight before her. Standing on her doorstep, drenched from the pouring rain– she sees you , The one she had tried so hard to forget , to move on from. You're the one that keeps her up most nights, plaguing her mind– she could never forget you, even if she tried. But here you are, after two long years, standing before her like a ghost from the past. Lara's heart races in her chest, a mix of emotions swirling within her - surprise, confusion, and a longing she had tried so hard to bury.

 

". . . You. . . what. . ."  

 

she speaks out with confusion, her voice barely above a whisper. She takes a step back, her hand instinctively reaching for the doorknob behind her. 

 

"What are you doing here?"

 

Her mind races with questions, god, you look so fucking beautiful , you look like shit right now, granted– but all Lara’s thinking about is how you had found her- how you went out of your way to visit her, even if you did manage to get a little help from Jonah, she had been so careful, so cautious in her travels, never leaving a trail for anyone to follow. But as she stands there, taking in the sight of your soaking wet form, she can't help but feel a twinge of something else - a warmth in her chest, a longing to reach out and pull you close, her entire body is screaming at her– begging her to take a step forward– pull you into her so she can finally feel you again after all these years, she missed you, terribly so– but she knows she has no right to embrace you– not so soon, not now. She shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She can't let herself get carried away, can't let herself fall back into the trap of her old feelings. She had tried her hardest to move on, had built a life for herself without you . She couldn't risk losing that now.

 

"You shouldn't be here,"  

 

she says firmly, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. 

 

"I don't know what you think you're doing, showing up like this in the middle of the night, but you need to leave. Now."

 

She takes another step back, her hand tightening on the doorknob. She knows she needs to end this conversation, to send you away before she does something she'll regret. and god she knows she'll do it, get lost in your presence just like she always had all those years ago. But a part of her, a small, traitorous part, wants nothing more than to open the door wider, to invite you in and never let you out of her sight again.

. . . But as Lara tries to shut the door on you– you push against it almost immediately, you know you're overstepping– pushing over the boundary she's so clearly trying to set with you–.

 

. . .

 

"Please, Lara. Just– for tonight, you can tell me that you never want to see me again in the morning- and I'll respect that, but– for tonight–."

Her eyes narrow at you, she’s suspicious of you– she has no choice but to be.

 

. . .

 

"Please, just let me know how you've been doing. Maybe we can chat– I don't know–"

Lara seems to hesitate just the tiniest bit, she does want to know how you’ve been, how you’ve fared since she’s left–.

 

. . .

 

"Just don't send me away, not again."

. . .

Lara can feel her heart clenching at your words, at the desperation in your voice. She can see the longing in your eyes, the way you're searching her face for any sign of the affection you once shared. She knows she should send you away, should slam the door in your face and never look back. But a part of her, a part she thought she had buried long ago, can't bear the thought of turning you away again. She hesitates, her hand hovering over the doorknob. She knows she's making a mistake, knows that letting you in will only lead to pain and heartache. But as she stands there, looking at you through the rain-soaked darkness, she can't find the strength to say no.

 

"Fine,"

She finally responds, eyes darting around, her voice barely above a whisper.

"But only for tonight. You can come in for a bit, dry off, and we can talk. But that's it. "

 

She steps back from the doorway, allowing you to enter. As you cross the threshold, she can't help but take in the sight of you, the way your clothes cling to your skin, the way your hair falls in your eyes. She feels a familiar heat rising in her chest, a longing she had tried so hard to suppress. She had spent everyday pleading to any god that would listen– send you to her doorstep– because she needed you, in her darkest moments where she’d wake up in a cold sweat– reaching for the other side of her bed, finding a cold absence instead of your comforting warmth– she had begged god to save her-, give her one more chance to make things right with you– and now that you’re here, he’s betrayed her- sent torment down her throat to come up and roll off her tongue as venom when she addresses you–. She hates herself, and she can’t bring herself to believe that you’re really here for her. She closes the door behind you, shutting out the cold and the rain. She leads you into the living room, gesturing for you to sit on the couch. As she leaves for a few moments to grab a towel from any nearby closet–, she can feel your eyes on her, watching her every move, when she exits the room- your ears are keen, listening for every single step. You’re afraid they’ll fade away– that she’ll retire to her bedroom for the night, unable to bring herself to really speak to you again– you wouldn’t be surprised.

 

She returns after a few moments, taking a deep breath– Lara hands you the towel, averting her gaze as you begin to dry yourself off, the towel is so soft– it’s almost soothing– knowing that it belongs to her , you feel pathetic for the way its’ scent catches in your nostrils– smells like her too, you missed being wrapped up in her– and this towel almost makes you start trembling on the couch before you steel yourself, you’re here to talk – you can’t reminisce– can’t think about things that destroy you everytime you remember she left . Her eyes linger on you for a few moments, her own expression conflicted– as she takes slow strides towards the armchair across from you, trying to maintain a safe distance, trying to ignore the way her heart races at your proximity– lord knows her heart is yearning to be closer, bring you closer– even if she forces it down to be swallowed by the thoughts she deems much more rational.

 

"So,"

She finally speaks out, breaking the thin, tension filled silence between the two of you.

"Why are you really here? It's been two years, and you just show up out of the blue, in the middle of the night, soaking wet and. . . begging to be let in. What is it that you want from me?"

 

She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. She knows she's being harsh, knows that her words are laced with a bitterness she can't quite hide. But she needs to know the truth, needs to understand why you've come back after all this time. She doesn’t believe that you’re here to just catch up. It’s never been that easy, never been the truth– and she wants the truth from you, despite how badly she wants you to snap back at her, fight for her– she’s bitter . She doesn’t know what she wants, not really . Her heart is heavy, her eyes avoiding you– she can’t bring herself to look at you, doesn’t want to. Part of her knows she might burst into tears.

. . . "I don't know. . . Maybe to see what the famed Croft explorer has been up to in her years away from civilization? You're not quite exactly the easiest person to write a letter to."

You murmur, letting your hands clutch at the towel she had given you, you're freezing, but you see Lara's eyes move, her gaze becoming trained on you– her gaze untrusting, it hurts– just the tiniest bit, knowing that at some point in your lives- that gaze held warmth towards you, an affection that made your chest bubble with warmth.

 

. . .

 

"I don't remember you being this cold– is it hard to believe that I just wanted to see you?"

 

. . .

 

Wanted to see her badly enough that you flew out at a moments' notice without luggage, a plan– or even your own sanity? You hardly can believe it yourself, but it's the truth- nonetheless.

Lara's eyes narrow at your words, at the accusation hidden beneath your playful tone. She knows you're right, knows that she hasn't made it easy for you to keep in touch. She spent half of her trips with nothing but a radio to keep in contact with her team because she knew she’d respond back. But that doesn't mean she has to make it easy for you now, doesn't mean she has to let you back into her life– and god, god, god, god, you’re making this hard to stay so harsh– she's fighting with everything she has to keep you out. She knows she's breaking her own heart by doing so, because there's nothing, absolutely– utterly nothing she's ever wanted more than to just let you back in.

 

"Don't give me that,"

She snaps, her voice sharp with anger, she almost flinches at her own tone– but she has to keep you out; maybe because she’s a coward, because she can’t bring herself to admit that leaving you caused enough meaningless heartbreak between the two of you to have her ready to drink her sorrows away with two bottles of wine each night she spends just hearing your voice ringing inside her head.

"You know damn well why I've been hard to reach. You know what my life is like, what I do for a living. I can't exactly check my mail every day when I'm half-way across the world– digging through ancient ruins, fuck– fighting off mercenaries cause they just can’t seem to leave me alone."

 

She stands up from her chair, pacing the room like a caged animal. She can feel the frustration building inside her, the resentment she's harbored for so long. She doesn’t have the strength to really say what she wants to. ‘I’ve missed you, baby.’ – it’s replaying in her mind over and over again– she’s frustrated– because she fucked up thinking that the best thing she could do to protect you was leaving you with nothing but a note saying she couldn’t do this anymore– couldn’t love you anymore, it was a lie; because it’s been two years and she’s still left her heart in your care, it still belongs to you . Every single beat, every single pump of blood that keeps her alive– you were every reason, every motive, every purpose she had– everything that mattered– and she resents you, resents you because she needs to blame you for something– blame you for not fighting harder, blame you for her own actions, she can’t bring herself to admit that she ruined something that would’ve lasted longer than life itself– because heaven knows she would have loved you past death– even now, you could take a blade to her heart and the blood that would spill would spell out your name.

 

"And as for being cold, well, maybe I am. Maybe I've had to be cold, to survive in this world. Maybe I didn't have the luxury of staying soft, of letting my guard down."

 

She stops pacing, turning to face you. Her hands are clenched into fists, she's frustrated–, with everything- from the fact that you've shown up, completely turning her mind over on itself– the fact that you’re finally here, after all the nights she's spent with her eyes closed, seeing you in the darkness. You were always just a fond memory that kept her regretting how everything ended, and now you're here– making her doubt herself all over again. She shakes her head, her voice dropping to a whisper– her eyes narrowing, the kind of sadness filling them that you only see when she’s at her lowest.

 

"You have no idea what I've been through, what I've had to do to get to where I am. And now you just show up, expecting me to welcome you back with open arms? Expecting me to be the same girl I was all those years ago?"

She can’t be her, can’t be that same girl she was all those years ago– she can’t , and she’s afraid you’ll be disappointed with that– be disappointed with the fact that she’s been hurting so deeply that she needs you to soothe her soul, she’s hurt– and she’ll take it out on you– push you away to make herself feel better, she needs you to hate her– needs you to make this all so much easier for her to leave – to know that there’s nothing else between you– and Lara's brows furrow as she thinks over your words, a flicker of hurt passing over her features before she quickly masks it with a scowl. She takes a few steps back from you– trying to put as much distance as she can between the two of you, but she can’t bring herself to walk away– can’t bring herself to leave you again– She knows she's being harsh, too harsh– you don't deserve it, but she can't allow herself to fall back into what she’s spent so long convincing herself are bad habits.

 

She inhales sharply, her next words slow– calculated.

"You didn't just come here to see what I've been up to. You could've done that from afar, without showing up on my doorstep in the middle of the night like some kind of stalker."

 

She stands abruptly, moving to stand in front of you. She can feel the heat radiating off your body, even as she stands just partly away from you– she takes note of the way your eyes follow her every move. She knows she should step back, should put some distance between you, but she finds herself drawn to you, despite her best efforts to resist. She’s trying to accuse you– make you out to be worse than you actually are, you were a gift from god sent to make her believe that angels were real– the clouds had cleared the day she met you, the storm had settled- you had brought light and showed her the better person she used to be, made her turmoil cease and made her believe that the ground you walked on could turn to gold itself, made the futility of her life disappear– and she hates you– hates you, she hates you because she can’t have you , not anymore–.

 

"If you wanted to see me, you could've called, could've sent a message. But you didn't. You just showed up, expecting me to welcome you with open arms."

. . .

 

Your expression is hurt, she can see it all over your face despite how hard you try to mask it, pretend to be unaffected.

. . .

“Lara.”

 

She takes another step back– shaking her head, her eyes finally dropping from you– no, you must be some kind of punishment, a sign of her own damnation– the sound of her own name shouldn’t feel like gospel rolling off of your tongue, and that’s what convinces her that you’re here for revenge– you must be.

“Lara.”

 

She swears she could stop breathing at any moment, your voice is pleading, trying to get her to calm down– to see you instead of the manifestation of comeuppance she’s convinced herself you are.

. . .

 

"We both know you wouldn't have answered." You murmur quietly–, before you had come– you didn’t want to believe that was true, but she had already proven that it was the case everytime you had already tried – for a few months after your parting, you convinced yourself that she had just tried to scrub her entire identity off of the face of the earth, start anew– but you’re not above admitting you would’ve spent any amount of money to just know she was out there, have something to help you understand she was alive, alive and well– but just knowing she was somewhere was enough to keep your hopes up, have you texting her every month or so– asking how she’s been. Though right now, your voice is soft- you’re not trying to aggravate her, make her more upset by your presence than she already is.  You didn't come here to fight, and your eyes leave her form for a few moments– just to think over your own words, figure out the right things to say.

 

. . .

 

"Why. . . is it so hard for you to understand that I just missed you?"

 

. . .

 

It's a quiet confession, and you're genuinely asking her–, pleading with her. Because fuck – you missed her, you spend half of your nights lonely, remembering her tender touches, her soft whispers– remembering how gentle she was with you, haunting you– because you knew you'd never find another love like hers even if you searched through every single goddamn tomb present on this earth.

 

You're not trying to be so hurt by her words, the way she’s treating you– her heart had been damaged even before you had met her– you’ve never blamed her for it, and you certainly won’t now , and you had prepared for this when you showed up to her doorstep like death itself had come to collect – knew things would end up this way– but you just need to be with her , just for a night.

 

. . .

 

"Why is it so hard for you to believe that I missed you?"

Lara's breath halts in her throat at your words, at the raw honesty in your voice. She can see the hurt in your eyes, the way your shoulders slump under the weight of your confession. She knows she's being cruel, knows that she's causing you pain with her harsh words and cold demeanor. But she can't seem to stop herself, can't seem to find the strength to let down her guard and let you in.

 

She takes a step back, her eyes darting away from yours. She can feel the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over and reveal the vulnerability she's trying so hard to hide. She swallows hard, her voice barely above a whisper.

 

"I. . . I don't know. I just. . . I can't. . ."

 

Her words trail off, her mind racing with a million thoughts and memories. She thinks back to the days when you were together, to the way you used to look at her, the way you used to make her feel . You were a drug, an addiction no amount of therapy could cure– she still finds herself drowning in the thought of you, even when she was thousands of miles away- even when she’d bury herself under thousands of pages of history– She remembers the laughter, the stolen kisses, the way she felt like she could take on the world with you by her side. But she also remembers the pain, the heartbreak, the way everything fell apart when you left. She remembers the sleepless nights, the tears, the way she felt like she would never be whole again.

 

She looks up at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of longing and fear– she’s afraid of you. You can’t be a creation by god, no– because no god would be cruel enough to make you, meld you with caring hands just to have you on this earth to make her suffer with how badly she needs you– she needs you– she’s afraid, to the point of death– because she needs you.

"I missed you too,"

She whispers, her voice cracking with emotion. 

 

"I missed you so much it hurt. But we. . . I can't go back to the way things were. I can't just pick up where we left off and pretend like nothing happened."

 

She takes a deep breath, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– it hurts, and she had corrected herself because she doesn’t think that she can go back to the way you both were without feeling all the guilt, the remorse– the regret– she had been through hell while you were gone, and there hadn’t been a single day where she hadn’t wished you were there, to stave the cold away– to check her wounds– kiss her goodnight, make all the nightmares go away– she’s been through hell – and it hurts that you weren’t there for her.

"I'm not the same person I was then. I've changed, I've. . . I don't know if we can ever go back to the way things were."

 

Lara's voice grows quieter, her eyes searching yours for some kind of understanding, she just wants you to understand– but not just see the surface of her words, she needs you to understand– she needs you to pick between the lines– see that she needs you, now more than ever– she wants you to stay– even when she’s trying to make you leave, she can’t make up her mind– because her heart belongs to you– and it’d rather stop right here and now than live with one more regret.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But I. . . I just can't."

. . .

. . . Fuck, you didn't think things were going to end up like this tonight.

 

. . .

 

You're slightly worried about her kicking you out into the rain outside, but you can't help the way you react almost mindlessly, sitting up from the couch you had been uncomfortably lounging on–, trying to allow Lara to put as much distance between herself and you as she can manage–  discarding the damp towel that had been draped over your form, your clothes still feel uncomfortable, wet– but you can't bring yourself to care, not now–, and you reach out, hesitating– before your hands find Lara's clenched fists– you hold them, your fingers squeezing at her hands as softly as you can manage, eyes trained on her– you want to ground her, she’s so deep within her own mind that you can see the way she’s blaming herself, blaming you for a mistake you’ve never held against her.

 

. . .

 

"Why do you have to be so cruel, Lara?”

 

. . .

 

“I’m. . . not here to hurt you, I never have been.”

 

. . .

 

"So please."

You whisper out, begging– you need her to stop pushing you away– and you'll work for it all night if that's what she needs to be able to trust you again. Lara's breath slows as she feels your hands on hers, as she looks up into your eyes and sees the raw, unfiltered emotion shining within them. She can feel her resolve crumbling, can feel the walls she's built around her heart starting to crack and crumble. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to block out the pain, the memories, the longing. But it's no use. Your touch, your words, they're like a balm to her wounded soul, soothing the ache that's been there for far too long. You’re the fix she needs– the one she wants , she can’t get you out of her mind– and she knows that she’ll never want to–.

 

She takes a shuddering breath, closing her eyes– trying to push away her own conflicting thoughts, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours. She sees the sincerity in your gaze, the love, the devotion. And in that moment, she knows she can't keep pushing you away. She knows she has to let you in, has to give you a chance–. She can’t fuck things up, can’t shoo you away– you’re too good for that, too good to be left forgotten on her doorstep.

 

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice thick with her pent-up emotions finally spilling free. "I'm sorry for being so cruel, for shutting you out. I. . . I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to let you back in, how to trust you again."

 

She steps closer, her hands coming up to cup your face. She can feel the warmth of your skin, the way your body loses its’ tension– the way your face leans into her touch, welcoming it. She leans in, eyes locked with yours– it's intimate, for someone who swore she was never going to let you get close to her again.

 

"I want to try," she breathes, her lips slightly parted–. "I want to try to make this work, even if we don't. . . get back together– I've missed you so much, more than you'll ever know."

. . . "Well. . . Why don't we start with making a fire, and maybe having some wine? Your house is so cold, Lara." You murmur, your own hand reaching up to grasp hers resting on your cheek– you lean further into her palm– trying to get your body accustomed to her touch again, eyes refusing to leave hers– you feel like if you look away for even a second, she'll disappear again– like some cruel joke, you've had enough of her absence, and you're not so willing to let her go again anytime soon.

 

. . .

 

"Maybe. . . you can tell me about some of the adventures you've been on?"

Lara nods slowly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Fuck– she feels like an idiot right now, but her chest is filled with warmth– she keeps her hand on your cheek, thumb rubbing against it, it feels too nice to have you back in her hands for her to let go– but she knows she’s not going to disappear again, hand giving your face one last graze before stepping back, her eyes never leaving yours.

 

"A fire and some wine sounds perfect, if it’s what you want."

She speaks out softly, she’d give you everything you could ever need– she’d even commission a sculptor to carve your likeness into marble if you’d ever let her, she’d certainly be enamored with it– even now, even as she still thinks you have the kind of beauty that could never be replicated, even if she got the most devoted artist currently on the market to paint you on a canvas a thousand times over– she’d need to have you immortalized, buy a museum– have you as the centerpiece just so she can claim you as a goddess for people to worship and praise.

". . .I think I have some old logs in the shed out back. Let me go check and see if they're still dry."

 

She turns to head outside, but pauses for a moment, glancing back over her shoulder at you. She doesn’t want to leave you alone, wants nothing more than to take a seat next to you on the sofa, warm you with her body alone– she’s missed you, more than she could ever articulate into words.

"Make yourself comfortable, okay? I won't be long."

 

With that, she disappears through one of the many doors present– to what you assume would be the entrance to the garden–, leaving you alone in the dimly lit living room, you spend your time waiting for her glancing around the room at your surroundings– you can see that she hasn’t dusted in awhile, maybe because she could never bring herself to stay at the manor alone anyways– She had Winston– but he had been growing well past the age where he could keep up with the vanity of the manor alone, – your body begins to relax– and you can hear it thundering outside, you let your head lay against the backing of the sofa–, and even through the rain and the constant thunder, when you listen closely enough– you can make out the sound of wood being dragged across the ground. After a few minutes, she returns, her arms laden with firewood.

 

She takes a few long strides towards the fireplace situated in front of the sofa– eyes narrow as she sets the logs down by the fireplace, kneeling to arrange them just so. She reaches for a matchbox sitting stagnant on brick, plucking out a singular match– striking it against the box. The flame flickers to life, casting a warm glow across her features. She tosses the match into the grate, watching as the kindling catches.

 

Slowly, she rises to her feet, brushing the dirt from her hands– from her pants, She turns to face you, her eyes giving you a reflection of the fire glinting inside of them, "There," she says, a note of satisfaction in her voice. "That should keep us warm for a bit."

 

You move to situate yourself closer to the fire slowly growing, it’s small at first– but once all of the logs catch fire– you’re eager to be in its’ warmth, Lara moves to the small wine rack in the corner of the room, fingers grazing over each glass bottle– turning them, inspecting them– before she finds one that satisfies her, selecting a bottle of red– she disappears for a few seconds, taking her time to find glasses big enough for some hefty pours, knowing you both need it– and you hear her opening the bottle in the kitchen. She reappears, pouring the two of you generous glasses– She hands one to you, her fingers brushing against yours as she does so.

 

She takes a sip of her own wine, savoring the rich, fruity flavor on her tongue. She leans back against the mantelpiece, her eyes finding yours once more. She wants to take a seat next to you– make herself comfortable, but she’s anything but at ease right now– her body is tense, her mind completely focused on the thought of you– and so she’ll stay next to the fire for a little longer– until the wine hits her and she has enough courage to be right next to you.

 

"So,"

She speaks out, trying to break the awkward tension between you two– trying to start the conversation– desperate – to have conversation with you, a hint of nervousness creeping into her voice.

“How. . . should I start? I’ve been a few places, Siberia–, Peru– I took a trip to Egypt last, spent a few nights there before I got tired of the sand and sun.”

. . . "Mmh. . . Siberia?" You hum, your form much more relaxed, now that your presence here is fully welcome- you bring your glass to your lips– taking a sip of the liquid she had poured you, you had never been one for alcohol, but you need it to ease your nerves right now, god– they're sparking right now, screaming at you to move closer to Lara– your eyes glued to the way she stares you down–.

 

. . .

 

"I've never taken you as the type to enjoy the cold, how was that trip?"

Lara takes another sip of her wine, a wistful smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She rolls her neck for a few moments, pondering over her own experience.

 

"It was cold," she admits, with an expression that tells you that she knows that was obvious, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "Colder than anything I've ever experienced before. The wind whipped across the tundra, cutting through every layer of clothing I had on. There were days when I couldn't feel my fingers, my toes, even though I was wearing the best gear money could buy."

 

She lets out a heavy sigh– taking another sip of her wine before she hums, allowing herself some time before she continues to speak. "Siberia was... an experience," she says, her eyes taking on a distant look. Your eyes are glued to her now– the way she looks like she’s off in her own world, as if she’s experiencing every single moment all over again– "The cold really was unlike anything I've ever felt. It seeped into my bones, made every breath feel like a knife in my lungs. But there was something beautiful about it too, in a strange, harsh sort of way. "

 

She lets herself push up and off of the mantlepiece, taking a few steps towards you– as she sets her glass down on the coffee table–, finally, finally taking a seat next to you on the sofa– she’s far, keeping to the other side of the seat, careful not to let herself get too close, but you’re burning knowing that she’s atleast sitting with you– all as she finally moves herself, turning to face you more fully. "I went there searching for something more valuable than anything life could ever offer, something even an entire life's worth of riches couldn't buy." Her eyes sparkle with a hint of excitement, the thrill of the hunt. "It wasn't easy, trekking through the frozen wilderness, battling the elements, the isolation. But when I finally found a camp full of people who had a history with the artifact I was searching for. . . , their journals, walking through the civilization they had built for themselves–. . .it was like stepping back in time. I could almost feel their presence with me, their determination, their desperation through all of the years they had spent surviving, fighting to keep themselves– everything they had spent their lives’ working for– safe from people outside of the small little world they had created for themselves."

 

She leans back against the cushion of the sofa– her eyes trained on your face, your expression as you listen so intently to her every word, her recollection of the adventure she had gone through. "I found what I had been looking for at the end of it all, But it wasn't the treasure I was after, not really. I know that now, It was the story, the mystery, the chance to unravel a piece of history that had been lost for so long."

 

She looks up at you, her eyes searching yours–. She knows you understand, the drive– the motivation that keeps her going along on these perilous journeys. "That's what I love about what I do, you know? The chance to discover, to learn, to push myself to the limit. It's not always easy, and it's certainly not always safe. But it's worth it, every. single. time."

. . . You move a little bit closer to her, trying to pretend like you're just searching for more warmth near the fire, but your thigh bumps against hers– She doesn’t move away, hell- you even feel the muscles of her thigh relax against the flesh of yours– and you take a moment to lean back with her and really absorb everything she had just told you. It feels like she's keeping it vague– you know she’s keeping some parts to herself– you know it’s for a reason, staying quiet about certain things she had encountered on her trip– certain sights, certain people–, but you won't pry– not when you're finally able to be this close to her, you could care less about what she doesn't wish to tell you.

 

. . .

 

"I can see why you can't just live a 'normal life' . You're passionate about this– it's admirable , I've always admired that about you, you know that? Your drive– the way you refuse to give up on things once you’ve set your sights on them– you’re fascinating, Lara."

 

You can see the way she melts at your words, at the admiration in your tone. She looks down at her glass on the table– leaning over to pick it back up, swirling the wine gently, watching as the crimson liquid catches the flickering light of the fire.

 

"Thank you," she murmurs, her voice soft and sincere. "I know it's not really easy for you to understand. But I appreciate it,– appreciate you– listening. It means alot."

 

She takes a sip of her wine, savoring the rich, full-bodied flavor on her tongue. She sets the glass down, turning to face you more fully.

 

"I've never been good at living a 'normal life'," she admits, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. "I've always felt like there was something more out there, something waiting to be discovered. I know it's not for everyone, but it's who I am."

 

She reaches out, hesitating for just a moment– her hand halted as she looks over at you, conflicted– all before she takes a long, deep breath– gently placing her hand on your knee, eyes lighting up just the slightest bit when you don’t move away from her touch.

"I know I can be distant sometimes, closed off. But I want you to know that I'm trying, I'm trying to let you in again. It's just . . . hard for me– doing this, after so much time has passed."

 

. . .

"But I want to try, for you. Because you're important to me, even if I really suck at showing it."

 

Her touch is warm, reassuring, a silent promise of something more. She holds your gaze, her own stare filled with a mixture of vulnerability– determination– she knows it’s not the wine pushing her to shift closer to you, until your shoulders are bumping together– her eyes half lidded as they look into yours, she’s laid out bare before you– and you’re dissecting her, picking her body apart and setting each of her organs into overdrive, she could explode– having you this close to her, cover the entire living room in a messy paint of red– paint you in the color of her.

 

"I'm glad you're here,"

She whispers– her breath catching in her throat, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire.

"I'm glad we have this chance– and. . . even if I was being cruel earlier, I'm glad that you came."

 

She leans in closer, her face mere inches from yours. Her breath is warm, sweet with the scent of wine. Her lips part slightly, inviting you to close the distance, to taste her once more.– see how much her tongue has changed over the years, let you decide for yourself if she’s still the same.

 

But she's not going to make the first move, she refuses to– partly because she's embarrassed, mostly because she can't find it in her to do something you might reject. Fuck, she's jumped into enemy crossfire so many times in her past without a second thought, but this is something she finds herself cowering from.

 

. . .

 

She missed you so goddamn much, even if she refuses to admit it. She's always wondered how you've been, if you had found anyone new– and if you were happy, you've been a ghost in her life for longer than she had liked– and though it was mostly her fault the two of you had even split, she missed you– and there hasn't been a day in her life where she didn't regret not just taking you with her– trusting herself to keep you safe from Trinity–. But she clears her throat, turning away from you– picking up her glass and taking a long swig– she’s going to do something you’ll hate her for– she knows it.

 

. . .

 

"So. . . what else do you want to know? I am. . . a completely open book, and I have many more adventures I'd love to spill everything about."

. . .

 

. . . And after a few more glasses, some hushed whispers shared between the two of you alone, countless recollections of where Lara's been, now. . . The two of you are much too close to each other, your fingers moving all over her skin– she had been showing you the scars she had amassed during her adventures, and you take your time trailing your touch over all of them. Her eyes are focused on you, trailing all over your form– taking you in–, and you're just sure it's because she's drunk– You're drunk. The wine bottle the two of you were sharing is near finished, just a thin layer of the crimson liquid laying at the bottom of it, barely enough to pour anything meaningful into your glasses.  Lara's fidgeting as your fingers trace over her scars, as you map out the history of her body with gentle, reverent touches. She can feel the heat of your skin, the softness of your fingers against her own flesh. It's intoxicating, the way you touch her, the way you make her feel seen , understood.

 

But she holds back, her own fear and uncertainty holding her in place. She knows that tomorrow, when the haze of wine has lifted, when the fire has burned down to embers, you might regret this moment. Might regret her.

 

. . .

 

"I missed you." You whisper out finally, you've said it enough times tonight– but you can't help yourself from repeating it, it's true– you've missed her more than you could tell her, missed being able to feel her warm skin– and Lara's eyes flit down to your lips for just a moment, returning back to your eyes– Her jaw clenched. She watches as your eyes drop down to her lips, as you whisper those three words that she's been longing to hear under your breath once more like an echo. Her heart races, her pulse pounding in her ears. She wants to lean in, wants to close the distance between you, wants to taste your lips, your tongue, your very essence .

 

. . .

 

"Peru. . . how was it being in the jungle?"

 

. . .

 

You change the subject quickly, and you feel yourself twitching in slight irritation– you want to lean in, feel her lips on yours– but you're afraid, and you're sure that if you do– when the two of you are well sober in the morning– Lara will be the one to regret it. So you suppress it, as best you can– bite your tongue and hope she stops looking at you like she's a fucking wild jaguar ready to devour you, let the bile of your blood drip down her throat so she can swallow it all down– be filled by you. And instead of devouring you, tearing into you like she so badly wants to– she focuses on your question, on the memory of her trip to Peru. She takes a deep breath, letting the image of the dense jungle fill her mind.

 

"Peru was... very intense ." she says, her voice soft and distant. "The jungle was so thick, so suffocating. The heat and the humidity were overwhelming, and the insects... well, let's just say I've never been a fan of creepy crawlies. It was all vast, oppressive. But there was something beautiful about it, a raw, untamed beauty that took my breath away."

 

She shivers slightly, despite the warmth of the fire, the closeness of your body. “It was. . . Magical– that’s the only word I can really think of to describe it–. The way the sunlight filtered through the canopy, the sounds of the wildlife, the sense of being in a place untouched by modern civilization."

 

She reaches out, her fingers brushing against yours– and you let her, because you’re both drunk– she’s just being friendly, as are you. She laces them together, squeezing gently. And you grip her hand, squeezing it back– because you’re drunk. "I wish... I wish you could have been there with me. I wish you could have seen it, experienced it for yourself."

 

She pulls back slightly– letting herself really take all of you in– she’s getting carried away, she knows she is– but this isn’t enough wine to make her brain stop working, she wants this– she wants you–, and so she pulls away– moving the topic of conversation back to her adventure. "I spent days trekking through the dense foliage, hacking my way through whenever I could– slept under the stars, listened to the sounds of the jungle at night. It was an experience like no other."

 

She holds your gaze, her eyes searching yours for a response. All she knows is that she wants you with her, wants to share these experiences with you. Wants to make new memories, ones that don't involve pain or betrayal or loss. And if that means taking a chance, risking her heart once more... well, she's always been one to take a leap of faith–. And with the way you’re leaning closer, breaths heavy– eyes half-lidded, she’s beginning to think there won’t be much regret from both of you if she did decide to close the distance, get a grip on you and hold you so tight her hands leave imprints on your body.

 

Her hand moves slowly, tantalizingly– fingers sliding up your thigh, digits tracing idle patterns on your skin. "But the real treasure was discovering the lost city, seeing the surviving– flourishing city everyone had thought was long gone. It was– again, like stepping back in time, like being the first person to lay eyes on something that had been hidden for centuries. It was completely out of this world, I couldn't even comprehend the fact that I was really there for a few days– that I had made it to what I was looking for."

. . . The only things that are running through your mind is how passionate she sounds when she speaks of what she was looking for– what she was trying so hard to find, god– you want to be the sole treasure she seeks in her life, the thrill that can't compare to any tomb or lost city – or–.

 

. . .

 

Her hand on your thigh is numbing, almost– your eyes trained on her, the way her expression looks so fond reminiscing about the past.

 

 . . .

 

You barely register it yourself within your own mind as you lean closer, closer until you can feel her breath on your face– her warmth so clear, so real– fuck, her lips are right there– you could capture them, bring yourself what you had been craving for two very, long, fucking, years. – but.

 

. . .

 

"Lara."

 

. . .

 

Your voice is breathless, and she just hums in acknowledgement, she's not too interested in reminiscing about the rest of her past– right now, you're the apple of her eye– and she just needs you to lean in– needs you to take the first step in initiating whatever the hell this even is , she's buzzing with excitement– eyes fluttering as she follows your lead, leaning closer– your lips so close, yet not touching.–

 

"Yeah?" Lara responds absentmindedly.

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

"I missed you." You rasp out, eyes locked on her lips. You're fucking nervous, but you need to know that she wants it too before you even think about doing anything–. Lara’s practically shaking at your words– your tone, your voice– you sound so desperate – not like all the other times you’ve said it, no– you said it like you need her– like you need her just like she needs you –, She’s salivating– hands twitching at the emotion she can hear in your voice. She can see the desire in your eyes, the longing, the need . You need her, you need her– you need her– and she knows that need mirrors her own, a hunger that's been building since the moment she laid eyes on you again. She leans in closer, her lips parting slightly. She can feel your breath on her skin, warm and inviting. Her heart pounds in her chest, a drumbeat of anticipation–. Her lips are just barely touching yours– but it’s enough to have your head swirling, your body losing control– you feel near paralyzed– and you love it–.

 

"I missed you too," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "More, than you will ever understand."

 

She closes the distance between you, her lips brushing against yours in a feather-light touch. She hesitates for a moment, giving you a chance to pull away, to change your mind. But when you don't , she presses forward, surging towards you like you’re the charge that electrifies her, gives everything meaning– bring the color to her world–, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Her hand slides up your thigh,– moving to your hips as she tugs you towards her, her fingers digging into your skin– rough, not enough to hurt you– but with enough strength to keep you next to her– she’s not letting you squirm or move away, she needs you– close, closer– so fucking close the two of you melt together–. She pulls and tugs at your clothes– not to get them off, but just to have something to grasp onto, desperate to feel your body against hers, she moves a hand to your lower back– her touch gentle– firm– She kisses you with a hunger that borders on desperation, years of pent-up longing pouring out of her in waves.

 

She breaks the kiss, panting softly. Her eyes are dark with desire, her pupils blown wide. She looks at you with a mix of tenderness and need– and you know you have her– you know she belongs to you– know that she’ll always be yours .

 

"I want you,"

She whispers, her voice rough, whiny– you’ve never heard her sound like this before– but she’s missed you– you can hear it in her tone, the way she grips you like she’s going to crush you–

"I've wanted you for so long, wanted to feel your touch, your kiss. I know we have a lot to talk about, a lot to work through. But please– please, please please. I want you."

 

She leans in again, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. Her hand slides under your shirt, her fingers trailing over your skin. She presses her body against yours, her curves molding to your own. She tugs on your hips again, situating the two of you so you’re straddling her lap– your hands are on her shoulders as you brace yourself, and Lara's heart races as you lean in closer, as your breath warms her– the way your tongue slicks itself over her lips. She can feel the heat of your body, the intensity of your gaze each time you pull away. It's intoxicating, the way you look at her, the way you make her feel wanted, desired.

 

She reaches up, her fingers tangling in your hair, tugging you closer. Her lips part, inviting you in, begging you to claim her, to make her yours once more, she’s always been yours– never once had she ever doubted it, but she needs you to make her yours – She needs you .

 

"Please," she whimpers against your lips, her eyes fluttering closed. "Please, I need you. I need to feel you– taste you– touch you."

 

She cuts herself off before she can whine any more pleas– her tongue tangling with yours. She tastes like wine and desire, like everything you've been craving for so long. She kisses you like she's trying to devour you, like she wants to consume every inch of you. She makes a fist against your head, her fingers tightening their grip in your hair. She tugs gently, urging you to keep sucking at her mouth, god– she wants her tongue down your throat, wants to make you desperate– she needs it. Her other hand slides higher up your thigh, she doesn’t want you to ever forget what it’s like to be gripped by her– held– she needs you to grow so accustomed to it that you can’t fall asleep without her hands– her arms around you, she never wants you to be able to sleep without her again.

 

She wants you, wants you with a desperation that consumes her entire being. She's been without you for so long, has been living in a world that feels incomplete without your presence. And now that you're here, now that you're so close she can almost taste you, she can't hold back any longer.

 

She breaks the kiss, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She looks at you with a mix of lust and uncertainty, her eyes searching yours for confirmation, for permission.

 

"Tell me you want this too," she whispers, her voice shaking slightly. "Tell me you want me, that you've missed me as much as I've missed you."

 

She leans in, her lips hovering just above yours. She's waiting for your answer, for your consent. She needs to know that this is what you want, that you're not just caught up in the moment, in the wine and the fire and the memories of the past.

 

She looks at you with a mix of hope and fear, her eyes shining with a vulnerability you've never seen before. She's putting herself out there, risking her heart once more. And all she wants is for you to meet her halfway.

. . . And you do– you're not going to deny her, you let her lay you down on the couch- her own form crawling over yours, you lean upwards– lips hesitantly pressing against hers over , and over again– until you're breathless – mind still struggling to come to terms that she's with you – and she wants you just as badly as you need her.

 

. . .

 

Her lips are soft, slightly chapped– her mouth is hesitant against yours as if she's afraid you'll push away at any moment– her hands come up to place themselves on either side of your head, palms sinking into the cushion of her sofa– she's caged you in, your own hands coming to caress her face– feeling her cheeks, her jaw– the nape of her neck– you let your fingers wander, it's been awhile- far too long– and you want to memorize every single dip, curve– scar and give her some of the many, many marks you know her body is craving.

Lara's heart is racing as she pulls away– looking at you laid before her, vulnerable– her body hovering just above yours. You’re her prized lamb returned after being lost in the pasture for longer than she liked, she’s your shepherd– but she’d damn herself by dressing herself in wool and plush, just to catch you between her jaws– devour you whole like a beast starved– she’s been starved of you for far too long.

 

Lara leans back in– letting out soft, grotesque moans into your mouth as she feels your lips on hers, as your body yields to her touch. She's been dreaming of this moment, fantasizing about it for so long. She's woken up from countless fantasies involving you with a slimy mess between her thighs– and now that you're finally here? Now that she has you exactly where she wants you? she's looking forward to making atleast one of those dreams come true.

 

Her hands roam your body, mapping out the contours of your muscles, the planes of your skin. She traces the lines of your chest, your stomach, your hips. She wants to lick you– do anything she can to make sure you know you belong to her, you're owned by her , and her alone. She breaks the kiss, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She looks down at you, her eyes dark with desire. Her lips are swollen, her cheeks flushed with arousal. She's a goddamn vision of perfection, what you could imagine is the closest image to it.

 

"You have no idea how much I've missed this," she whispers, her voice rough, struggled– she's trying so hard to keep herself calm– not just breakdown and start humping you to satisfy herself as soon as she can–. "How much I've missed feeling you."

 

She leans down, her lips trailing along your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. She nips at your skin, her teeth grazing against your flesh. Her hands slide under your shirt, her fingers skimming over your skin. She traces the lines of your stomach, your chest, your shoulders. She wants to touch every inch of you, to feel your body against hers. She kisses you again, her lips crushing against yours in a bruising kiss. She pours all of her desire, all of her longing into that kiss. She kisses you like she's trying to make up for lost time, like she's trying to cram years of missed kisses into one single moment. You reciprocate her actions, fingers grasping at her clothes– slipping under them– one hand trails up her stomach, pausing just below her bra– before your fingers move to grope at them, pausing to assess her reaction– continuing to let yourself feel her body, feel the way she pushes her chest further into your palms, clearly enjoying your touch. Lara shivers under your touch, her eyes fluttering closed. Her body responding to your touch like a flower turning towards the sun. She's been praying, – yearning for this, for your affection, your attention.

 

“Please. . . please, please– let me make everything up to you– not just for tonight–”

 

She kisses you again, smiling against your lips when she feels you nod in acknowledgement– submit to her– you’re giving your all to her, and Lara’s lips are moving against yours in a slow, sensual dance. She straddles you– grinding her hips down against yours, her body seeking friction, seeking relief from the ache that's been building inside her for so long. One hand reaches down, her hand sliding under your shirt, her fingers tracing the lines of your stomach. She wants to explore every inch of you, to map out the contours of your body, remap– remind her own mind of every single secret your body hold, every hidden place that makes you gasp and squirm. She's offering herself to you, body and soul. She wants to please you, to give you everything you've been craving. She wants to make up for all the time you've spent apart, all the moments you've missed.

 

“Fuck– fuck I really need you to touch me–.” You pant out, eyes watching as her hands slide down your body, her fingers teasing along the waistband of your pants. She looks up at you, her eyes filled with a mix of lust and adoration. "Want me to worship you? I can worship you–," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "Show you just how much I've missed you."

Your fingers can't stand being still any longer– and you push at her chest, trying to make her sit upright– and when she does– allowing you to lead her body, you follow her, lips still moving and planting themselves on her jaw– her neck, her shoulders– your hands reaching down to grip the hem of her shirt– you pull it up, and she raises her arms to assist you– allowing the fabric to be dragged over her head until her upper half is near bare, and your eyes drag over every inch of her, your hands touching at her stomach– feeling the lines of her abdomen– the curve of her tits, feeling the flimsy fabric of her worn bra– hands groping at her body, "Please– please, please– please, don't be mean– You need to touch me– I want you to touch me." You're begging, and Lara missed this– she missed having you like this, missed the nastiest parts of you–, she wants to see if your pussy still drools the same way it always has for her after all these years too.

 

"Can you touch me? can you–? Not here– in bed, can we go to your bed?" You ask– and you have certain things in mind concerning her bedroom, you've been there before– you wanna know if she still has that box in her closet full of the things that still fog your horny, needy mind–, and you can see the way Lara's looking at you– she doesn't care that much where she takes you, she doesn't care much about how she takes you– she wants to ram you, fuck you– shove a plastic cock down your throat until your throat feels like it's being shred, and here you are, pressing kiss after kiss against her lips– whispering "please" against them, making it so much harder for her to hold herself back– keep herself from knocking you against the coffee table, bending you over– kneeling behind you and eating your pretty pussy until you explode all over her face–.

 

"Please– please, Lara– please– I really wanna go to bed–."

Lara's biting her own tongue at the desperation in your voice– it hurts, but she isn’t even thinking about the pain when she can feel the heat of your body against hers, the way your hands roam over her skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. – the way your body moves to straddle her lap, the way your hands can't keep themselves from moving and touching all over her form, fingers obsessed with the feeling of her tits, It's so goddamn intoxicating– you’re so intoxicating, the way you touch her, the way you ache for her attention.

 

"Bedroom," she breathes out, almost like she’s in a trance– she can barely think right now, and you’re not doing anything to help with the fact that part of her brain is going dead because of you. "Bedroom, yeah– Bedroom–. Let's take you up there–."

 

She stands up, pulling you with her. Both your movements sluggish, unhinged as you sloppily lick and nip at eachother– all as she leads you towards the stairs, her hand gripping yours tightly.  Her lips leave yours only for the moment, saliva dripping down the side of her mouth– She can feel the anticipation building deep inside her, ties within her stomach, the ache between her legs growing with each step.

 

She's rushing as she pulls you up the stairs– as she leads you through the halls, barely aware of her own hurried steps; she only has one goal in mind now, and she's not going to ever let herself run from you again– once she's succeeded in bringing you to her bedroom, she haphazardly shoves you into the room– foot kicking the door closed behind the two of you, Lara wastes no time– pushing you onto the bed, her body following yours– laying beside you, her own hands are moving to pull at your clothes, almost as if she was offended that you hadn't shown up on her doorstep in nothing– you're a gift, and she's going to take her time unwrapping you, show her gratitude that you had come– give you deep kisses, let her tongue roll all over you– tasting you–. She brings her hands to your clothes, sitting up as she pulls your top from your body, lips finding the flesh of your chest– the dip between your tits, she lets her tongue lave you– bathing you in her affection– and she tugs at your pants next, her thighs squeezing together– her own sweatpants feeling too heavy– clinging to her skin, she's anything but gentle as she moves to yank your pants down– careless to the way you whimper at the way she scratches against your thighs as she does so– fuck, you want her to scratch your entire body up; make you bleed.

 

She moves to her knees once she's undressed you– leaving you in nothing but your underwear– she’ll tear that bra off of you later, but all she’s focused on is the way your thighs are clenched together, the way she can see slick already pooled on the inner parts of them–, her eyes raking over your body– you’re a pleasurable sight to behold, and she’s more than eager to see if all those spots she remembers still work on you the same. She reaches behind her own back, unclasping her bra and letting it fall, fingers lazily slinging it off of the bed as she crawls closer to you. Her breasts are full, heavy, her nipples hard and pebbled– it's been awhile since she's been intimate, she's always been too busy– too lost within stress and her own troubles – but now you're here, and now you can make her feel good– make yourself useful . She takes your hand, guiding it to her breast. She gasps as your fingers immediately– almost on instinct, move to brush against her nipple– rub the pebbled peaks–, her body arching into your touch. Her other hand slides down her stomach, her fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her sweatpants. She lets out a whimper, her own fingers pulling back out– she doesn't want to touch herself, she's had enough of that– she needs to feel you, be inside you– be close to you.

 

"Tell me what you want," She breathes out, her voice needy, desperate– she wants to give you whatever you’re craving, she’ll enjoy it– enjoy making you fall apart in her arms.– "Do you want me to fuck you–? want me to get my cock for you? make you cry, baby? do you miss me making you cry?"

You're squirming on the plush of her bed, your body feels like it's just been razed to the ground– you've been dreaming of this, and right now– you want nothing more than to let your mouth fixate on her plastic cock– her pussy later, but right now– you need her to take care of you; make up for everything she made you go through after she left– you'll take care of her, but you need an apology first– and you'll need her to apologize in many– many ways.

 

"Your cock– please, I really wanna suck your dick." You breathlessly laugh, it feels so stupid– saying it out loud, but you've been fantasizing about being on your knees– working between her legs every single night you were needy, having nobody to soothe your neglected cunt. She doesn't take long, she doesn't want to make you wait any longer– and after just a few minutes, you're sitting so behaved– eyes fogged over, you can see it hanging between her legs– and when you lean forward, greedy– trying to get it in your mouth, she teases– taking a step back– watching with delight as you crawl after her, desperate– you need her cock, need to ruin your own mind on her cock, have her fuck your throat until your brain fails–.

 

"Please– you're so fucking mean –" You whine, and she finally halts, standing over you– one hand on her own tit, thumb rolling over her nipple– she grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging your head forward until your cheek is rubbing against the length of it–.

 

"Need it?"

 

She asks, her voice a soft coo– she's missed the sight of you like this, missed you crawling to her– needing her– she'll give you her cock, but she wants to watch you– watch how you can't help but turn into a fucking whore for her– can’t control yourself when it comes to her. You don't respond, you'll show her that you need it– and your knees bump and graze against her wooden floors as you lean forward to take the tip into your mouth–, she lets out a gasp– her body shivering as she inhales–, and she rolls her hips– a breathless moan escaping her as she watches the shaft disappear down your throat.– Her pace is slow as she fucks your face, and she can tell that you're enjoying it– looking down at your pretty face, eyes all watery– watching the way your head bobs, listening to the way you gag– determined to take it deep, again and again– she almost wants to slap the shit out of you– punish you for being such a fucking whore for some fake dick.

 

"Fuck. . . have you been practicing?– huh?. . . been taking cock down your throat wishing it was me?"

 

You whine denial around her shaft, and you feel her hand on the back of your head push you further down onto her cock, feel her thrust her hips forward until she feels you take her to the complete hilt, she lets out a groan– and she swears she can feel you sucking her off–.

 

"Yeah. . . I know you haven't been– you're a good girl, you only want me."

 

. . .

 

You want to stop sucking, your eyes watering– your lips are pressing against the rough material of her harness, and you don't want to stop sucking because you don't want this– no, you want to stop sucking, stand up and spit in her fucking face for being right , you haven't fucked in two years because of her– haven't been with anyone else– your pussy can’t even get wet thinking about anyone else but her– she's ruined you– you could never be with anyone else, you belong to her– and you know with the way she's whimpering and drooling above you, that she feels– felt the exact same way about you .

 

. . .

 

Your hands reach up to stabilize yourself, gripping the sides of her muscled thighs– nails digging into her skin– Lara hisses at the feeling, her hips moving in a slow rhythm to pull herself out just far enough to jam her cock in your mouth over and over again– she'll fuck you with it soon, make your pussy all happy– make your pussy never feel neglected again– she’ll take care of it, make you forget all about everything else except her dick deep in your guts. Lara's eyes are hazy, her breaths coming out in short, ragged gasps as she watches you work. Your mouth looks so goddamn hot, so wet around her cock, and she can almost feel every inch of your tongue as it rubs against her shaft. Her hips are rocking back and forth, fucking your face with slow, deliberate thrusts. She's savoring every second of this, every moment of your submission .

 

She loves seeing you like this, loves knowing that she's the one who can reduce you to such a state. She knows that you've been thinking about this, been craving this for so long. And now, finally , she's able to give you what you need .  Lara's noises spill off her tongue like she's enjoying this more than you are– as she watches you take her cock, your lips stretched around the shaft, your throat tightening as you gag–. She can feel your throat constricting, your eyes watering as you try to take her deeper, try your hardest to please her. You were made for her– made to be a whore, You’re Lara’s whore– and you’ll spend the rest of your life on your hands and knees worshipping her cock if that’s what she wants from you.

"Take it all. Take every. fucking. inch."

 

She grips your hair tighter, her nails digging into your scalp as she pulls you closer, forcing your head down onto her cock. She wants to feel you choke on it, wants to feel your throat spasm around her as you struggle to breathe, make it hard for her to keep thrusting–. She loves the way you whimper and moan around her, loves the way you want this so badly.

 

"That's it baby," she purrs, her voice low, rough– . "Take it all, just like that. You're doing so well for me, such a good girl." She coos– genuinely proud.

 

Her fingers are tangled in your hair, gripping it tightly. She uses her hold to guide your head, to control the pace of your movements. She wants to make sure that you're taking it deep, that you're choking on her cock just the way she likes it. She can feel the way your body is struggling to accommodate her length. But you don't pull away, don't try to escape. Instead, you double down, your eyes dripping with tears as you force yourself to nestle her fat cock as deep in your throat as you can manage.

 

"Fuck, you're so perfect," she groans– her own eyes beginning to water, she’s so fucking horny– wants to touch herself to the sight of you– she could cry , but she doesn’t–, her hips snapping forward with more force. "I've missed this, missed the way you look with my cock in your mouth. You were made for this, weren't you? Made to be my little cocksucker."

 

God, she could cum just watching you suffocate– But she's not ready for this to end, not yet. She wants to make this last, wants to draw out your suffering for as long as possible. So she pulls out, leaving you gasping and panting on your knees. Her cock is slick with your saliva, glistening in the low light of the room. She strokes herself slowly, teasingly, her eyes never leaving your face.

 

"Beg for it,"

Her voice is rough– commanding, she’s not asking you to beg– she’s telling you to beg for her.

"Come on. . . beg for my cock, baby. Let me hear how much you need it."

It’s all music to your ears, even as you sit there on the floor– coughing, choking as you try to catch your own breath– there's drool dripping off your lips, but you're quick to crawl to Lara– watching as she strokes herself, pulling and tugging on her cock like she's ready to split you open with it–. "Please, please– please please– I need you to fuck me so fucking badly– please". You can feel it, you can feel the slimy mess between your legs– and you know you’re too turned on to even feel ashamed of the way your pussy is aching for her dick. Lara just purses her lips, her eyes shining with a sadistic glint– she's really missed this– missed having you at her mercy, missed how good you look on your knees– beneath her, begging for everything only she can give you– because only she can make you feel like this, only she can make you sob and cry for just a few little touches between your legs.

 

. . .

 

"Please– please I'm so fucking wet right now– please– you're killing me, Lara." You whine, your eyes were already dripping, but you want to break down into a sob– it aches so badly you think you really will die, you've been so neglected– and you don't care about looking pathetic, you don't care about looking good in front of her right now– you'll take her, ride her– let her bend you over and ram into you from behind– anything , you'll take absolutely anything from her– You’ll hump against her goddamn leg to get yourself off if that’s all she’ll allow you– and you’ll do it with a glazed over expression, sweat dripping down your brow– work yourself to the edge for her, all with a smile on her face and a ‘thank you’ on your lips.

Lara's body feels like its’ pulsing just looking at you, her pupils dilated– blown with lust as she takes in the sight of you. You're a mess, your face streaked with tears, your lips swollen from the abuse of her cock. But fuck, you're so beautiful like this. So desperate, so needy. She could never get enough of you, never get enough of the way you love her–  you love her– and she’s always reminded of it during times like these. She can see the way your body is trembling, the way your hands are fisting at your sides. You're so close to the edge of completely snapping, so ready to break. And she wants to be the one to push you over, to shatter you completely.

 

"Look at you," Lara purrs out with a sickeningly sweet voice–, “My baby wants me to fill her up.”

She steps closer, her cock brushing against your cheek. She reaches down– hand caressing your head, she’s so proud of you– proud – you’re brave for telling her what you want, her brave girl.

 

"I've missed this," she whispers, her touch hot against your skin as she reaches down, hand grasping onto your jaw– tilting your head up to look right at her– right at the woman making you feel all of this . "Missed the way you look with my cock stuffed in your mouth. Missed the way you moan and whimper for me."

 

. . .

 

"I'm going to fuck you," 

 

“Don’t you worry about that, baby– I’ll fuck you– I’ll give you what you need.”

 

She straightens up, her eyes never leaving yours. She sees the hunger there, the desperation. She sees the way your body is shaking– you want it, you need it– she’s going to give it to you.

 

"On your hands and knees,"

She commands, she’s not going to play around with you any longer– that greedy little pussy needs her, and she walks to the bed– expecting you to follow.

"Ass up, back arched. I want to see every inch of that perfect body."

 

She watches as you scramble to your feet– unclasping and throwing your bra to the floor, hands shaky as you rush to pull your panties from your body– leaving them to be discarded, The anticipation is killing her, the knowledge that she has you right where she wants you. She's going to make this so good for you, so intense and overwhelming. She's going to ruin you for anyone else, make it so you can never think of another's touch without craving hers– god, she’ll never let you think of anyone else, never let you be with anyone else– your hers, her brave girl. She’s going to give her brave girl a long, hard– deep fucking, and you’re going to enjoy every single bit of it. She’s going to make sure of that . . . You crawl onto the bed, you can feel her behind you-- standing right where you can't catch a glimpse of her, You're just barely on the edge of the bed-- knees sinking into the mattress, your forearms laid against the plush platform as you situate yourself on all fours-- , you can feel her hands wandering all over you-- fingers dragging themselves along your spine, hands massaging at your shoulders-- dipping down until she's caressing your hips, warm hands getting themselves reacquainted with your body, you can feel one of her hands leave your hips-- reaching down until she's stroking at your drooling cunt, collecting the arousal on her fingertips-- her touch leaving you gasping, before it disappears-- and you hear the grotesque noise of her slurping at her fingers-- tasting you–, you arch your back, lifting your ass up for her as she hums in approval, one hand reaching to the back of your head-- pressing your face into her bed gently, while you can feel the tip of her cock behind you rubbing and teasing at your clit-- she'll finger you later if you beg hard enough, you know that-- but right now, all you can focus on is the feeling of her fat cock slipping into your cunt-- your pussy squeezing against her as your body adjusts to accommodate her strap. . .

 

. . .

 

"Fuck. . . I love you." You grunt out, trying to bite back all the noises that are threatening to squeeze out of you-- it's so big, and you know you're gonna be sore-- but you just want to push back against her-- fuck yourself on her fake dick until she can feel it herself, feel how much you need her-- how much you need her to be connected with you, inside you--. 

 

Lara's body is pulsing, her heart pounding in her chest as she watches you, watches the way your ass is lifted in the air for her. She can't believe how lucky she is that you’ve come back to her–, can't believe that you're here, that you're hers. She reaches out, her hands gripping your hips tightly as she pulls you back against her, her cock sliding further between your thighs. The feeling of your body against hers is electric, sending shivers down her spine. She wants to push deeper into you, fill you up until you're useless, til’ you can’t do anything but scream her name.

 

"You love me?" She repeats back, her tone mocking – she’s just trying to tease you now, get you all worked up. "Huh. . . Is that right?"

 

She leans forward, her chest pressing against your back, her tits squishing against your skin. She wraps her arms around your waist– embracing you while she grunts into your ear, pushing her cock deeper inside of you–. She holds you close, her face buried in your hair as she inhales your scent. You smell so good. Like home. Like everything she's ever wanted. She grinds her hips forward, letting you feel the heat of her body against you. But she’s not going to start thrusting just yet, no– she's not going to give you what you want just, not until you're willing to debase yourself completely for her.

 

"I don't think you mean that,"

Her fingers are trailing down your spine, making you shiver–. She pushes her cock a little further, letting out a faux gasp when she sees the way your body almost collapses at the feeling– she pushes further, further– slowly, until her strap is buried nice and deep in your needy pussy.

"I think you just love my cock, don't you? Love the way it stretches you open, the way it fills you up so perfectly."

. . .

That's what makes you break out into a sob, and you're planting your face into the mattress-- tears dripping, your voice broken-- you're trying to reach behind you to grab onto her, any part of her that'll let you feel her-- be comforted by her-- know that she's still there behind you, and not just driving her cock into your cunt-- "Please-- please-- I love you so fucking much, I love you-- I love you, please-- you know that I love you--." It's not just a confession because of the intensity of the situation, no-- you've loved her, grieved her-- you spent months wondering if she thought about you just as much as you thought of her, you'd cried over her– you were left heartbroken over her-- completely changed, you need her to know that you love her-- you can't handle it, can't handle the way she's acting like you just love her dick inside you.-- and. . .

 

. . .

 

She grasps your hands, rubbing at them soothingly-- you can hear her laughing, trying to stifle it-- feel her leaning over to kiss at your neck-- your shoulders, trying to comfort you-- she didn't mean to make you cry, she just wanted to mess with you a little bit-- but now she feels bad.

 

. . .

 

"Believe me, I know you love me."  

 

She whispers into your ear-- and your sobs begin to calm a little as she continues to shower you in soft kisses, her hands rubbing at your back--.

 

"I love you too, baby."

 

. . .

 

You're left still sobbing, gasping-- barely able to breathe as your face presses against the mattress, she's pounding into you now-- strap sliding in and out of your cunt with little resistance, you can hear her grunting-- feel her embrace you once more, holding you underneath her, keeping you in place as she rams her hips forward-- fucking you into her bed, she's not going to tease you anymore-- not her sweet girl.

 

"Fuck--fuck-- fuck-- I love you--" You whine out, your voice trembling-- eyes rolling back, you can feel her cock splitting you open-- stretching your cunt wide as she invades you-- and it's a welcome feeling, one you never want to stop racking through your body.

Lara's chest aches just hearing you confess your love for her, her heart thumping so loudly against her chest that she’s sure you can hear it– She wants to keep you like this forever, wants to make you feel so good that you can never think of being anywhere else but in her hold. She wraps her arms around your waist, holding you close as she starts to move her hips a bit more lazily– fucking into you with slow, deep strokes. She's not going to make this quick, not going to give you what you want yet, she knows you want to cum– but she needs to drag this out, make sure she’s wrung out every single drop of pleasure from you that she’s able to– she doesn’t want to end this quickly– she wants to make sure you’re unable to move, make sure the only thing you can do is cuddle into her after all of this is done– let her dote on you, kiss you til’ you fall asleep– and fuck seeing your tears wet the mattress, feeling you squirm underneath her- she just wants to kiss you, tell you everything’s gonna be alright from now on– because she has you now, and you’re hers.

 

She speeds up her thrusts, her cock slamming into your cunt with a force that makes you see stars. You can hear the wet squelching of her cock moving in and out of your body, can feel the way your pussy is stretching to fit all of her inside you. It feels so good , so perfect . Like you were meant to take her, exactly like this. She reaches down, one of her hands finding your clit as she starts to rub it in slow, firm circles. She wants to make you cum, she wants absolutely nothing more than to make you cum. She can feel every inch of you as she runs her free palm along your body, she can even feel the way your walls clench around her, milking her strap for all it's worth. "Y ou're so tight, " she grunts out, her fingers digging into your hips as she pulls you back harder, faster. “You’re gonna eat my pussy after this– make me feel good for trying so hard for you.” She punctuates each of her words with a sharp thrust, her body slamming against yours with enough force to make the bed creak beneath you.-- and you whine helplessly, nodding your head– “Yeah– yeah, I’ll eat your pussy– I’ll–” . . . You cut yourself off with a sharp whine– a choked up groan of her name, and you can feel it leaking down your legs– can feel that knot inside of your stomach tightening to a point where you can barely feel anything but the searing pleasure–, “Lara– Lara– I’m gonna cum–” You whine out, your voice breaking out into another sob . . . And you can't even hold it– your body shaking– your cunt squeezing her cock so hard she thinks you're gonna destroy her pretty strap, you feel that tightness in your stomach snap-- and you're gushing , your cum spilling out of you while Lara coos-- slowing her thrusts so you can ride it out-- her fingers stay firm as they rub your clit, trying to draw your pleasure out-- and her other hand reaches out to grasp at the back of your head-- keeping you planted into her bed, making sure you don't lift yourself up until you're completely finished--.

 

. . .

 

A few moments pass, and you're left near boneless on the bed-- your eyes fluttering as she drags her cock out of you, her dick making obscene noises as it pops out of your abused cunt, your breaths trapped in your throat as you spasm lightly-- your legs squeezing shut, you want to lay back-- pass out and wake up to her in the morning, but you have a job to do before you're allowed to rest, and Lara's already working to get the harness off her hips-- sweat covering her body, once the harness drops to the floor below her-- she's quick to discard her own drenched panties next, crawling onto the bed next to you-- eyes all soft, proud as you struggle to pull yourself back onto your hands and knees, making your way over to where she lays, watching as Lara spreads her legs for you-- presenting herself, her drooling cunt that's waiting for your tongue-- and she lets out a deep exhale, watching as you lower yourself between her legs, cheek rubbing against her thigh-- ignoring the slick that sticks to your face-- your eyes half-lidded, you're exhausted-- but you're not sleeping, not until Lara's had her fill as well. You lean forward, licking a long strip along her cunt, lips closing around her clit-- sucking, you can feel her tense-- hear the way she gasps, her hands moving to grasp your hair-- combing her fingers through the strands. 

 

Lara watches as you struggle, sees the way your body is trembling, the way you're fighting against the exhaustion. She knows you're tired, knows you want nothing more than to collapse onto the bed and sleep– but she needs this. Needs you. She reaches down, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer to her, her body shuddering at the first touch of your tongue. Her thighs tremble, her back arching off the bed as you start to work her over. She can feel the way your tongue is moving against her, can feel the way it's flicking over her clit, dipping into her entrance. She lets out soft grunts and whines– she’s not trying to– she doesn’t want to distract you, doesn’t want to make you lose focus. She just wants you to keep going, wants you to make her feel good. She can feel the way her pussy is clenching around nothing, can feel the way it’s trying to pull you in deeper. She loves the way you're tasting her so eagerly, loves the way you feel against her.

 

"Fuck," she gasps out, her fingers tightening in your hair as she starts to guide your head, showing you exactly where she wants you. "Right there, baby. Don't stop."

 

She can feel the way her body is starting to shake, can feel the way her orgasm is building inside of her. She's so close, so fucking close. She just needs a little more, just needs you to keep going . . . And you double down on your efforts-- licking, sucking-- devouring her cunt until you can hear her noises descend into helpless pleas, you feel her grip on your hair tightening-- pushing you closer until your face is buried in her cunt, your eyes watering-- she tastes so goddamn good, and you wish you could drown in her for the rest of the night-- if your body wasn't about to give out, you feel her thighs clench around your head, tightening, Then you feel her tense-- her hips rolling as she rubs her cunt against your face, her body falling slack against the bed behind her, just a few more licks-- and you feel it, feel her cum gushing out of her cunt, filling your mouth-- her taste overwhelming your tongue-- you take your time licking every single drop from her, cleaning her-- even as she pushes at your head and cries out when the feeling becomes too much--. Her body goes limp, her hips still twitching as the last waves of pleasure wash over her. She reaches down, her fingers untangling from your hair as she tries to guide you away from her, tries to tell you that it's enough, that she's had enough. You listen after a few more seconds of having your fill, and she’s taking deep breaths– trying to calm her own agitated body, She reaches down, her hands cupping your face as she pulls you up, pulling you into a kiss. She can taste herself on your tongue, can feel the way your body melds against hers. She breaks the kiss, her forehead resting against yours as she tries to catch her breath.

 

. . .

 

“I. . . am so glad you decided to come over.”

Notes:

id lick the dirt off of her