Lynn

Something is buzzing in my dream, and it doesn’t stop even as I wake up fully and open my eyes.

I can't move! I'm being held down! The room is dark!

But my fear subsides before it has time to fully explode, just gets carried away on the waves of the realization that it's Scar's arms around me. He's not holding me down, he's just holding me. Both his arms are wrapped around me the way they were when I fell asleep, which seems like a lifetime ago, but was probably just a couple of hours ago, since I'm still very sleepy.

The buzzing that woke me is still going strong.

It's my phone ringing, I suddenly realize, since the sound is coming from my purse, which I left by the door to the bedroom.

Scar opens his eyes as I try to extricate myself from his arms and pulls me closer, so close I couldn't move if I tried.

"Where you going?" he mutters, his voice thick with sleep, but I hear the hard accusation in it too like he thinks I was trying to sneak away.

I glide my hand down his cheek, since I don't want him to think I'd ever just slink away from him, don't want him to think I'd rather be anywhere else but in his arms right now. "My phone's ringing, I have to get it."

"Yeah, do that," he says and lets me go so fast and so completely, I sway from having my support taken away. "That vibrating is annoying as fuck."

"Why didn't you wake me, if you heard it before," I say as I climb off the bed.

"It wasn't annoying enough for that," he says and laughs, then turns on the nightstand light. "But I would've woken you up eventually, don't worry about that. I might've even mentioned you had a missed call. Or a couple."

Who'd call me a couple of times in the middle of the night?

The question sends my heart racing, has my hands shaking, as I rummage through the bag looking for my phone. It was Mom. She called five times already, and it's only just past three AM.

"Lynn? Where are you?" she asks breathlessly, in a pinched and panicked voice, as she picks up before the first ring even fades.

"I'm…I'm fine, Mom. I'm out," I answer her unasked question, relief that something bad happening wasn't the reason for her phone calls mixing with my shame for making her worry.

"You said you'd be home by midnight," she says shrilly. "I've been worried sick."

She sounds it too. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I should've let you know I'd be home late."

"I was imagining you hurt and God knows where again, I couldn't sit still and you weren’t picking up the phone. I was just about to call 911," she rambles off breathlessly. "You have to let me know if you'll be home late. It's all I ask."

I don't appreciate this stark reminder of why she’s in such a state of panic right now. It turns the room cold, makes the night outside the windows seem much darker than it is, brings all the fear and pain I could finally forget for the first time back to the forefront of my mind.

"I'm sorry," I say anyway, because I am. "I forgot to call. It won't happen again."

"Will you come home now? I have to see you to know you're alright," she says and I know she really wants me to. I also know that would be the only thing that'll make her stop speaking so breathlessly and in such a panicked voice, which almost scares me more than the memories that are its root cause.

My mom spent every minute by my side as I recovered and every minute since. I should go home and set her mind at ease to thank her for that. But I should also return to bed and let Scar hold me as I go back to sleep by his side, because that's what I want to do.

"I'll be home in a couple of hours, Mom," I say. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

Scar grins and nods as I say it, and I smile back. My mom says something else that I don't understand, because the call of his bright eyes, of the comfort only his strong arms and his kisses give me is too loud, louder and more urgent than my need to make my mom feel better.

"I'll see you soon, Mom," I say. "Bye."

She gasps, but stays silent. I hang up the phone, then walk back to the bed. Scar is still grinning as he makes room for me by his side.

"You missed your curfew and your mom got worried and raised hell in the middle of the night. Is that what just happened?" he asks mockingly. "Gotta say that's a first for me."

"My mom gets worried if she doesn't know where I am," I answer defensively, since, yeah, I know I'm a grown up, thirty-three year old woman, who just got scolded by her mom, but I'd still be a sniveling mess afraid of being alone in the dark, if my mom hadn't propped me up and took care of me for all these years. She nearly lost her mind too when I went missing, and when I came back in the state I was in, but she stayed strong for me, because she had to, because each other was all we had, and I wouldn't even eat for the first few months. "She has good reason to worry."

He nods like he understands perfectly and keeps grinning as he takes a lock of hair that's fallen over my face and brushes it back behind my ear. "Yeah, I know. But neither of you got anything more to worry about now. You especially. Because I'm here now."

"Just like you always were," I whisper, take his face in both my hands and kiss him.

I'm not annoyed with him anymore, or worried about my mom. I’m just happy, happy like I haven't been for the past twelve years, happy because he's here, because he was there when I needed him most, because he found me again now, and because I found the strength in myself to let us have this second chance.

* * *

I'm not ready to sleep. Scar isn't either. We had different reasons for that to begin with, but now his kisses and caresses, gropes and bites, licks and nips are pulling out moans of pleasure from deep within me, from a part of me I've ignored for so long I forgot it existed, a part of me that's still whole and untouched. The pleasure of it all is pushing against the fears my mom's panicked call brought back to life in my head and back to the present.

They're no longer confined to the past where they belong and where Scar chased them by showing me pleasure in sex is possible, by showing me how much I missed it.

The first time it was easy to ignore them, but they're putting up a fight now, even as his skilled fingers find my clit and start making bubbles of bliss pop in my head. Not pop, explode. I hold onto the fireworks, try to think of nothing but how good his lips feel on my skin, or the strength in his muscles coiling beneath my palms, pulsing under my hands as I close my fingers around them. That is all I need to be safe. He is all I need. Because his passion and his desire for me, and mine for him, can take me to a different world, one without sorrow, without regret and nightmares that overtake my waking moments and which I cannot fight on my own. It can, but it's not doing it now.

I yelp in surprise and pleasure and fear all rolled into one as he pushes his cock into me, the intrusion unexpected, unannounced, yet welcome, but also too much like before, too much like those dark, scary, horrible nights and days.

I need to get out, need control, need to be free!

But he's holding me down, thrusting into me, his cock finding that pleasure button inside me each and every time. I forget the bad for one glorious moment each time he presses it, making my brain and my body explode in bliss for the split second it lasts. Then his cock retreats.

I writhe to get away, surrender as the pleasure explodes, fight again once it fades. The push and pull of pleasure and fear, of terror and bliss is ripping my mind apart. Each of those emotions is too strong, too stubborn, none will let go, and I can't take it. I can't take it, but I want to. I want the pleasure and bliss to win. I need it to win. But I can't take it. I won't survive this fight.

My writhing annoys him, breaks his rhythm, speeds up his thrusts, makes him miss.

"Stay still, Lynn," he says as he does exactly that with his cock buried deep inside me. It’s throbbing against that pleasure button, keeping me right at the edge of another explosion of pleasure, withholding the fireworks, letting the fear get the upper hand, driving me mad.

He grips my wrists, pushes them into the mattress and holds them there. It’s no different to being tied down. He pulls out his cock and thrusts back in, but this time even the explosion of bliss isn't strong enough to fight back the fear.

"I can't!" I yell even as I moan. "Not like that! I can't, please!

I'm twisting my arms to free my wrists, and he lets them go. He stops thrusting into me and the wide fast lane to world-shattering bliss we were speeding down comes to an abrupt dead end.

His eyes are like two peaceful pools in a deep, untouched forest, reflecting the trees surrounding them. The beasts hiding in the trees are scary and many, but they can't touch the waters, and they're not where he looks at me. They’re just there to protect me.

"Alright, you scared little doe," he whispers, replying to whatever he saw in my eyes, because I have no idea what he's talking about.

He leans down and kisses my neck, then starts pushing his cock in and out slowly and steadily, calmly and deeply. The two paths of soft pleasure—from his lips on my neck and from his cock caressing my pussy—are meeting in my center now, as deep as the calm pools in his eyes and more glorious than the first rays of sunlight at dawn.

There's no more push and pull between the desire and fear in my mind, there's only bliss, only sparkling pleasure, and that's all that matters. This moment is all that matters. I'm safe, I'm secure, I'm protected and cared for, and I feel good, I feel great, I feel better than I ever had in my whole life.

I caress his arms and his neck, touch his strong back and powerful thighs, his face. I need to feel all of him and I want to see his eyes, because I'm so close, so very close to coming, and I want to look into his eyes as I come, want to see him and feel him at the same time, want him to know how much this means to me, how much he means to me. He's my savior. My protector. My lover. And I want to be his too.

But he won't lift his head.

His kisses grow more urgent as his thrusts speed up, his breath fast and hot on my neck, my whole body vibrating under the volleys of pleasure that keep coming in stronger and faster, driving me towards the edge. His groans are blending with my moans and whimpers, and I know he’s close too. I want us to fall over that edge together. But I can’t hold back much longer. I can’t hold back at all anymore.

I wrap my arms around his neck tight, as though to brace against the fall. But he’s right here with me, falling too, landing now in a field of pure pleasure. The impact shatters the last of my defenses, sending them crumbling into the depths of my past with the bad memories and the nightmares, into the black nothingness of oblivion where they belong.

I'd tell him to look at me, but my voice is hiding somewhere and I can't find it. But we don't have to look at each other. I see him clearly even with my eyes closed.