Update: his dick didn’t actually get smaller.

I haven’t gotten a good look at it in its non-hypothermic state but Wilder pulls me in, his lips on mine, and I slide down his lap until we’re crushed together, and it’s trapped between us, hard and thick against me.

I shift my hips against him even though I try not to, because I can’t help myself. Wilder brings one hand up, to the small of my back, fingers pressing into my sacrum and then grabbing my ass, making me do it again as his groan matches the slight gasp that escapes my throat.

He pulls back, my lip between his teeth, laughing.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his voice so low I think animals hibernating underground could hear it.

“Shut up,” I gasp.

“Nah,” he says, and kisses me again.

It’s rough and unpracticed, teeth and tongue, the angle awkward. I’m still wearing one hiking boot and trying not to use my busted ankle to balance but at the same time I can’t stop pressing into Wilder, my body screaming for his.

I hate this. I hate how bad I want this. I hate how my body’s reacting to his like this.

I hate that I’m not going to stop.

He slides his hand up under the layers I’m still wearing, hooks his fingers under the bottom band of my sports bra, pulls me in harder as I make another noise into his mouth, helpless against myself.

“Is this what I’m not supposed to tell anyone about, Squeaks?” he teases, still tugging. “That all it took to get you back in bed with me was a crash landing and a bout of hypothermia?”

“Shut up,” I whisper, my fingers tracing down his chest.

“Yeah, you were a piece of cake,” he laughs, tugging on my bra again.

This time he runs one thumb over my nipple, and even through the thick elastic it sends a jolt through my body that brings my hips forward, makes me squeeze his shoulder in my hand, make both nipples stiffen like diamonds.

He chuckles and tugs on the bra again, bringing my nipple to his teeth, biting me through the shirt and bra I’m still wearing. His teeth slide over me, the sharpness dulled by fabric, and then he shoves my bra over my breasts and does it again, only the thin fabric of my shirt in the way as he looks up at me, eyes twin glacial pools.

I gasp, and it comes out a squeak. Wilder grins, bites, lets his teeth slide off as I grind my hips against him one more time.

“You gonna tell me you don’t like that?” he murmurs, then licks my shirt.

The fabric sticks to his tongue and he slides it around. I find purchase on his thigh with one hand, eyes closed as I pant for breath, afraid that if I don’t hold myself up I’ll fall over.

“It’s dirty,” I warn him, eyes still closed.

“Not yet.”

His hand moves down, tongue working the other nipple through my shirt, and his fingers find the crease of my hip and in seconds, his thumb’s brushing over my clit, nothing but the thin fabric of my leggings in the way.

“I meant my shirt.”

Wilder just laughs, and I put more of my weight on his thigh, leaning back, pushing myself against his thumb and behind that, his hard cock.

No one ever has to know. Even if he tells, who’s going to believe him?

He strokes me, thumb moving in little circles, teeth and lips around my clothed nipple, and I moan again. I can’t help it and I can’t stop myself, because this was always the problem: Wilder knows how to play my body like a goddamn Stradivarius, and somehow, he always has.

And right now? My strings are tight and it’s been ages since someone came along who was any good at music.

“Get your shirt off,” he growls.

“And if I—”

Wilder sits forward, bending his legs, grabs my shirt in both hands and tears it off over my head, followed moments later by my ugly bra before pulling me in and kissing me so hard our teeth nearly knock together.

“That’s what happens if you don’t,” he growls, half-laughing, his lips moving to my neck. “Which is what you were gonna ask, right, Squeaks?”

“Maybe,” I murmur, closing my legs around him.

“When has it not been in your best interest to take your clothes off around me?” he murmurs.

One hand shoves into my leggings, past my clit. He strokes my outer lips with two fingers, teasing me, and I push myself against his cock again, pure want pumping through my veins. He laughs into my neck and I curl my fingers into his hair, holding him there as his teeth and tongue are on me and it’s all I can do to stay upright like this.

“Wilder,” I whisper.

His fingers drag over my lips, start circling my clit, and my legs tighten around him.

“Don’t make—”

“Who the fuck would see it if I did, Squeaks?” he asks, biting me again, fingers moving roughly over my clit as his teeth graze my neck. “It’s us and the wolves out here.”

He sucks the skin below his lips, a shower of sparks running down my spine as his fingers circle my clit harder, my body shuddering.

“Just come on,” I say, my voice barely audible.

Suddenly he bites me, his teeth and fingers even rougher, and I moan, tangling my hands through his hair as hard as I can.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers savagely. “I’ll make you come in secret if that’s what you want, you know.”

My whole body jolts, legs tightening, my teeth grinding together. I’d somehow forgotten this part, where I feel like a ball of yarn at the top of a skyscraper, looking down.

I moan into his ear, helpless against myself, against my own body’s stupid wants and desires.

“Just our dirty secret,” he murmurs.

I fall, and I unravel, unspool, spinning and tumbling down until I can’t anymore and I open my eyes right into his, gasping for breath as he pulls his hand from my pants and grabs my ass with it, grinding me against him.

More. I need more, now, right now, and fuck everything else.

We crash together, tongues and lips and teeth. Wilder kisses me like he’s trying to devour me. I have to pull my glasses off so they don’t get crushed between us, my hair tumbling down around my shoulders as it comes loose and he shoves his hands through it.

Then I’m on my back, Wilder above me, between my legs and I finally reach down, grab his cock. He groans, bites my lip, kisses me. Grabs my other hand and holds it over my head.

Growls into my ear, “You like that, Imogen?”

I stroke him hard as an answer and he groans again. Lets my hand go, rocks back on his knees. Yanks my remaining hiking boot off, and I lift my hips as he tugs off my leggings too.

He takes my knees, pushes them wide, leans over me and kisses me again. This time his bare cock is right against me, resting against my wetness, making my nerves crackle again.

I slide my hand around his head, lock my fingers into his hair, his forehead against mine as we kiss fiercely, my legs wrapped around his hips. I can feel every muscle in his body as it moves and writhes, pure raw power behind them.

Wilder’s like a caged animal ready to spring, both his hands clenching fistfuls of sleeping bag on either side of my body as I grab his cock again, stroking it, sliding the head against my clit until we both moan in unison.

I shut my eyes hard, forcing myself to slow it down for one second as I swallow hard, gasping for air.

“Are you—”

“I’m clean,” he gasps, hips bucking, cock sliding against my clit again. “Are you—”

I just lift my hips and Wilder plunges into me with a shout, so hard and deep on the first thrust that I leave scratches up his back even as I grunt with the force of it.

Sparks explode in front of my eyes because God this feels good. I tighten my legs instantly, still holding his hair in my hand, our faces together as I try to pull him in and it feels like he’s trying to push my hips through the floor below us.

“Jesus,” he whispers into my mouth, just as I curl my tongue around his, fingers tightening on his back as he shifts and rocks, pulling one knee up, sliding half out and grabbing me and driving back in so hard I just whimper for more.

“Fuck yes,” I manage to whisper.

I tighten my grip. I buck my hips up to meet him and he holds me down, his cock hitting every perfect place inside me and some I didn’t know I had. In whispers I tell him to go harder, faster, deeper, more of everything as I twist and moan underneath him, my teeth on his lips and his neck and his shoulder.

I want him, and I want to hurt him, shred him to pieces, feel him explode like a grenade and get every ounce of pleasure I wring from his body. I want him unable to control himself, to shatter into a million pieces and not be able to stand properly tomorrow morning and I want it to be because of me. I want to do it to him, do everything, make him hurt and come and regret everything and forget the world exists.

Harder, faster, deeper, rougher because we’re somehow not on the sleeping bag any more but my bare back is against the plywood and the floor is creaking and Wilder is shouting and I’m going to come again in seconds as he drives himself into me with no mercy, nothing but need.

There’s one perfect, crystal clear, split second where I swear the whole blurry cabin comes into sharp focus and time stops.

I come like I’m being torn apart, gasping and shouting and fucking begging Wilder not to stop with teeth and lips and fingernails and he doesn’t, not even as he comes inside me a second later, a string of curses growled into my ear as he pushes my legs up, getting as deep as he can while my body flutters and jolts.

We slow together, echoes washing over my body, unwilling to stop just yet. The floor’s freezing beneath me but we’re flushed, sweaty, my body trembling as Wilder finally sinks against me, his head in the hollow of my shoulder.

What did you just do? my brain whispers, even as I roll my head against the floor, rough plywood against my cheek.

That’s the dumbest thing you could have done, everyone’s going to laugh at you again, how could you give in again like this Imogen there was only one thing you weren’t supposed to do again, and it was—

Shut the fuck up, I tell myself.

Miraculously, I shut up. I relax my grip on Wilder’s dirty hair, running my fingers through it. I can feel him blinking against my neck, his breath warm on my shoulder, my head turned away from his.

It feels good to be like this, slow and drowsy and tangled together. It feels right.

And I kind of wish it didn’t.