Victor hummed in contentment as her fingers slid into his hair; he had missed that. He pressed into her again, letting her feel how hard his was, the sensation sending bolts of pleasure up his spine. One of his hands ran up her side, dipping underneath the hem of her shirt and trailing her body up to her breasts. “Whatever you’d like.” He reaffirmed as he cupped and kneaded the flesh in his hand.
“What if,” she murmured, arching up into him, “what I’d like is for you to never take another contract again?” The hair rose on her skin at the contrast between the heat of his hand and the coolness of the rest of her body.
Victor growled low in his throat as she arched into him and he almost didn’t register what she had said. He froze suddenly. “Wha’ would you have me do then love?” There was a fear in his eyes that he tried to mask. He didn’t think he could really /be/ anything else, he was a killer and had known little else. Yet at the same time, he wanted to be better, for her and for his safety.
Summer brushed her thumbs along his cheekbones. “Stay with me. Love me, raise ocelots and smaller cats and maybe one day a child of our own.” Her face was troubled, a little sad, a little yearning, as she looked up into his eyes. “There’s more to you than danger, and I don’t think I could take it if you disappeared again.”