A/N: I just uploaded chapter 4-9 in case you need to know what to catch up on.


"It's funny how you pushed away the only person you ever let in."

It isn't often that Wolffe finds himself struck entirely speechless, but as he looks at your vulnerable expression, he is unable to vocalize any words. Part of his mind is too busy being overwhelmed by the tingling sensation left on his face from your touch, while the other half of him is screaming for your gentle caress to return to his skin and never leave again.

He's been so selfish towards you already, but old habits die hard. Now that he's done trying to push you away, all he wants is to keep you as close as possible. He wants what he's denied himself for so long, even though he has no right to call you his.

Instead of taking taking taking, he tries his best to give you the same level of affection you'd gifted him. He cautiously brings his hand up to cup your jaw, his thumb sweeping slowly across your cheek. He can't hold in a slight smirk as he feels your face heat up beneath his fingertips in response, but it fades as he remembers the severity of your current conversation.

"Even when I've hurt you, you try and share your warmth with me," he murmurs, thumb moving to rest beneath your lower lip to emphasize the fact that he's talking about the wobbly smile you'd graced him with only moments ago. "I'm so sorry, cyar'ika. You deserve so much better than me… than anything I can give you." His tone is mournful, because he knows that this will be the only time you let him in after how coldly he's treated you.

He doesn't expect your eyes to flutter shut and both of your hands to cover his, anchoring him to you.

"Life isn't always about what we deserve," you reply. "It's about what we want and if we're willing to fight for it." You shift his hand over and turn your head at the same time so you can press a featherlight kiss against his roughened palm, and Wolffe momentarily forgets how to breathe. "What is it that you want, Wolffe?"

He doesn't think twice before answering. "I want you to live," he blurts out, cringing at his rapid response but urging himself to plow on. "I want you to survive this war. I want you to heal. I want…" He growls under his breath at his ingrained difficulty with being honest about his feelings, both to you and himself. "I want you to be happy. I want to be the reason why you're happy."

When he sees the tears building up in the corners of your eyes, Wolffe clamps his mouth shut, afraid he's said something wrong as usual. He isn't prepared for what you have to say.

"You already make me happy, Wolffe. Just being near you has been enough for me."

"Enough for you, but not what you truly wanted," Wolffe sighs as he shifts his body so he can move his arm pressed against the sheets until his other hand is cupping the other side of your face. "What do you want, cyare?" He dutifully swipes away the tears that now fall free onto your cheeks.

"I want you, Wolffe. You're all I've ever wanted—" You're cut off as Wolffe swoops forward and presses his lips to yours, stealing your voice and your coherency as he kisses you. Your lips are so soft under his, and the little gasp you let out has Wolffe humming with pride as he coaxes your mouth open further, wanting to give and take from you as much as he can.

He's always been better with actions anyways.

One of his hands slides down to your neck to hold you steady, and he can feel your pulse beating wildly when you moan against him. Your fingers trail down his skin to clench at his forearms, and Wolffe immediately begins to pull away, thinking you want space.

He doesn't expect you to take a quick breath before pulling him back to you so you can take control this time, but he isn't about to complain. He's willing to lose himself in your touch forever if the universe only would grant him an eternity with you.