Last night, I had a terrible nightmare. I dreamt I was Lotor’s wife. He had finally succeeded in fulfilling the promise he made so long ago, and I was made his unwilling bride while Arus was brutally destroyed and left for dead.

In the dream, I had begged him to stop the attacks. I would do anything he asked if only he would call off his soldiers. But my pleas went unanswered as I watched my planet and my people perish from the drafty bridge of the Revenge.

This dream was not unlike any of the others I’d had in the past. These are my darkest fears, so it would seem natural that they would haunt my sleeping hours. (And they have for most of my life.) But this particular dream bothered me more than most. Perhaps because it is a nightmare that is now closer to reality than ever before.

Less than a week has gone by since the lions were sacrificed to spare the Troika Moons, and my anxiety is mounting. Lotor hasn’t been heard from nor seen since he fled that awful day, but I can feel that he is near.

How foolish I was to think that Lotor would keep his word and simply hand over his fleet and break off the threat to the Troika Moons if only we destroyed the robot lions. Perhaps I am not as competent a ruler as I would have liked to believe. But still, I know that there was no other choice to be made. Millions of lives versus five metal machines - the equation was simple. But as it usually is in life, the easy solution is never as black and white as it appears to be. And now, we sit and wait for him to resurface.

I still do not know why Lotor left so quickly with his fleet. When Amalgamus found that he had no control over the Doom ships, they turned around and attacked, but just long enough to get retrieve Lotor and make the easy escape. He had the much greater advantage, and he could have destroyed us all if he would have continued the attack. But he didn’t. He fled…as usual.

This is what worries me most. It makes me to believe that Lotor has a more specific plan in mind. He may be a coward, but he’s not a dumb coward. He knew that he could level most of the Moon before any Garrison backup arrived, but that was not his intention. No, he had something else in mind…has something else in mind. And I know just what that is. Arus. He’s coming for Arus. He means to destroy my planet, my people, my friends, and me. He’s coming to eliminate that which has brought him imprisonment, disfigurement, grief, and shame. He’s coming to seek his revenge - this I know as fact. I can feel it, a cold chill in my bones. I can actually feel him hating me right now. I can feel his metal arm around my neck, squeezing harder and harder, choking the life out of my body. And then he’ll laugh, cry, grieve, smile, and move on. Lotor is like that. I’ve never believed that he loved me, and the pity I felt for him was destroyed along with my beautiful lions. For truly the first time in my life, I know what it is to completely hate someone. I wish it felt good to hate him, but it doesn’t. It just causes me more pain. I wish I knew how to get out this downward spiral. I can’t afford to be caught up in my own emotions, but my emotions have total dominance over me right now - hook, line, and sinker. Something else happened last night. Something that has sent my emotions into such a whirlwind, I can barely hear myself think.

I woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, and after putting up a marginal effort to get back to sleep, I resigned myself to a less than refreshing night of tossing and turning. That is, until I started to hear the noises. You know, those noises you hear from all corners of your darkened room after you’ve just had a bad dream? And even though I am far from being a small child, I was scared. Well, maybe not afraid of the boogie man, but I still didn’t feel like being alone.

My first natural instinct was to seek Nanny out. It was a habit of mine when I was a girl to crawl into her bed in the middle of the night and snuggle up close to her motherly plump figure. She would smile at me in that way that only a child understands, and all the monsters would melt away in my head. But Nanny was dead now, and I would find an empty bed if I went to her room (which, incidentally, was still in the same condition since the final time she had left it. I wanted it kept that way. Nanny would’ve hated someone making disorder of her things.) Let’s leave this topic now. It’s one more thing that would just be added to the whirlwind.

I wanted company. I thought about Lance, my old partner in crime, but he and I are definitely not on good terms at the moment. Since we retrieved him from jail, he’s taken to throwing a few short sentences my way, but nothing more. He’s disappointed in me. Take a number.

I thought of Hunk and Pidge too, but I quickly put that idea out of my mind. They were spending every sleeping and waking hour on the new design. We’re building a new Voltron, or trying to anyway. Who knows if Lotor will give us the time we need, but we have to try. To be idle would drive us all crazy. The original blueprints to Voltron are gone, lost in that battle which also took my father, so we’re starting over from scratch. Hunk and Pidge, being the mechanical and computer whizzes they are, have thrown themselves headlong into the project and are more or less in charge. From what Keith told me, the design is coming along swiftly. It’s the construction that will prove to be our Achilles heel due to the length of time it will take. Six months, I’ve been told. We don’t have six months. But we are all sharing this concern silently. Sometimes, forging ahead the best thing one can do in a time of utter desperation.

Keith has been killing himself, almost literally. Not only is he dealing with the oversight of the new Voltron, but he’s working with Coran and I on planetary security and defense, and he’s also dealing with Amalgamus, the team, and his own emotional turmoil. I can see the emotions on his face, something that I’m not used to, but I can’t blame him for that. We’re all dealing with the same fears. But I know that in addition to the obvious concerns, he’s also worried about me. Actually, I’m surprised that he and Coran haven’t overpowered my authority yet and sent me off to some outsider planet for my “own good.” But even though they haven’t yet, I don’t doubt that the thought has been foremost in both their minds.

Coran’s concern for my life, I can understand. He promised my father that he would look after me and above all else, look after my safety. I’ve battled him on many such related issues before, but I know that neither of us will ever change. He’ll worry over every little thing involving me, and I’ll be stubborn about listening to his advice about it. But this…this is different. It is the first time that I believe he has cause for worry.

As for Keith’s concern, let’s just say that I’m used to it. He’s good at hiding it these days, but he doesn’t fool me.

Keith and I are both very different people now than we were when this war initially brought us together. Other than the natural maturity that we’ve both grown into, there are other, more specific changes that we’ve gone through. He is now much more serious (if that’s even possible). The playful boyish nature that used to peek through once in a while has grown into a brooding, pensive thinker. I know that sounds cold, but it’s more or less true. Maybe the desk job he’s held over the past five years has made him impassive. He was never meant to leave the action. I had heard that the Garrison had offered Keith a position as leader of a new expedition group to the farther galaxy, where there was still trouble, but he declined for whatever reason. He said that he was tired; I say that it was because of me.

I am pretty good at lying to myself about what exists between Keith and I, but I’m not an idiot. Ours was never a matter of what; it was a question of when. His post-Drule War assignment of “Environmental Counselor to the Alliance Planets” was a far cry from the fulfillment of his natural talents, but he took it…and quickly. I saw him about once a month over these last five years, more than his job called for him to be here. He would make some kind of excuse about finding “fallout in the groundwater” somewhere in the deep forests of Arus. They got more creative as the years passed. But he would come, and we would spend time together. Even then, I knew he wasn’t happy, but he smiled at me often, and we enjoyed each other’s company for the few short days we had together.

Before this whole mess started up again, I was beginning to think that Keith might leave the Garrison. I don’t know why, but he gave me that impression. Keith is a closet idealist, and I think that it was wearing on him to be surrounded by a bunch of bullying bureaucrats, led by a metal robot with a logic born of rusty gears and worn out bolts.

As for the changes I’ve gone through, I’ve lost most of my girlhood insecurities that deal with my place as ruler of Arus. I am now much more confident in the decisions I make, and I rely less on the advice of others. Rather, I listen more, but I am now more able to discriminate better between good and bad advice. I believe that a good leader is always a good listener, and I am getting better at it, much to the satisfaction of Coran.

But I still have much to learn. I also believe that a good leader acknowledges their shortcomings. For instance, I still rely too much on father’s advice when situations become more difficult than I know how to handle. I was perplexed as to why he wouldn’t help me with the Troika Moon situation, but I think I know why now. I must lead on my own. Simple as that. Father is gone, and as much as I don’t want to admit it consciously, he must soon go to his eternal rest where mother is sure to be waiting for him. I owe it to both of them to let him rest in peace. He’s done enough.

I sat and thought about these things as I stood ready to knock on Keith’s chamber door. (I always hesitate when it comes to him.) Maybe I just wanted him to open it so that I wouldn’t have to knock.

I have to confess, I might have had an ulterior motive by this time. I had all but forgotten about the nightmare, and I was standing there in my nightgown, shaking mildly in the knees, wondering what in the hell I was doing there. All I knew was that I was lonely, and the only person who could take away that loneliness was him.

I knocked.

The door opened promptly.

“Hi Princess.” (For the last three years, it had been “Allura.” All of a sudden, we were back to “Princess.”)

“Hi.”

“What can I do for you?”

He had a casualness about him that irked me. Ever since the reappearance of Lotor and the gang, this nonchalant phoniness was almost perpetual. In short, he had been putting me back at arm’s length, and the intimacy that he used to look at me with was again being buried under a shroud of paperwork and duty. (I guess I can’t blame him for it; I’d been doing the same thing.)

“Can I come in?”

He flashed me that brief look of “that might be considered improper,” but he probably remembered that we weren’t teenagers anymore and stood aside to bade me enter.

I sat on his bed. Keith has two pieces of furniture in his room - a bed and an old desk made of oak that used to reside in my father’s study. I gave it to Keith as a birthday gift one year. I think that was the first day that he realized that the feeling was mutual. He kissed me that night, and although nothing really came of it afterward, I knew that it would happen again. I don’t pretend to be able to predict that we would have a future together, but at least I knew that we would kiss again. Sometimes, you just know little things like that.

I guess the natural question for him to have asked me would have been, “Is there something wrong?” But that’s an idiot’s question when the answer is obvious. Instead, he simply sat down behind his desk. He’d been looking at the blueprints, and he saw my gaze linger over the expanse of documents in front of him.

“We hit a problem today.”

I quirked an eyebrow to indicate a mild interest.

“Would you like to know what the problem was?” He asked.

I thought about that for a minute. “Is it fixable?”

He looked thoughtful after I said that and leaned back in his chair. “Yes, it is.”

“Then I’d rather not, if that’s okay. I don’t mean to be rude, but…” I trailed off. When you know someone like Keith and I know each other, you find yourself leaving out words and speaking in half sentences.

I stared at him blatantly. He was half clad, wearing only black pajama bottoms. I was used to seeing him without a shirt, but I never tired of it. The years had been kind to his physical form. His muscles still looked worked and healthy, and his skin seemed to glow of a youthfulness that I know he no longer possessed. A strange thing though. Over the years, I silently and curiously observed my raven-haired captain turn into a brunette. I had heard of graying out with stress, but browning out? He might be a candidate for some type of study involving stress and the human head. But he could have no hair, and he would still be the best looking man I’d ever seen. Something about him just exuded attraction.

After a quick detour of the superficial (okay, maybe it wasn’t so quick), I let my attention come to rest on his expression. He looked tired, but that was nothing new for him. The fake smile was gone now, replaced by that new, more mature brooding look that I’ve been so less-than-fond-of lately. But he was trying to appear relaxed; I could see that. It was difficult to tell if he was surprised to see me or not.

“Keith, in all these years, back on Earth, did you ever have a girlfriend?”

The question definitely caught him unaware. He stifled some sort of gasp and sat up straight. I knew what the answer was immediately because his gaze was far from mine. Eventually, he brought himself to look at me.

“One. I had one girlfriend.”

I just nodded. I’d figured it would have been more.

“Why do you want to know?” The question was asked with a tone of slight accusation.

“I just wanted to ask. Why didn’t you ever tell me about her?”

Strangely enough, he laughed. “A lot of reasons, I guess.”

I pinned him with my gaze directly. “I have some time.”

He looked resigned to answer the question, even though I knew it was the last thing that he wanted to do. “Because I knew that you would be jealous and your feelings would be hurt.”

Honesty - I can appreciate that.

“What happened with her?” (I had to know.)

“We dated for about a year, and she broke up with me. It was two, three years ago, I think. I’m not too sure.”

“Why did she break up with you?”

“Why do you care?”

We sat, locked in one of our classic stare-downs. I won.

“She broke up with me…because she wanted me to stop coming to Arus, and I wouldn’t. She was jealous of you, Allura.”

That was a better answer than I had hoped for. A classic case of him picking me over her. It satisfied me enough. Well, almost enough.

“Did you two ever…you know…did you…?”

“Allura,” he became annoyed then, “Why these questions all of a sudden? Why right now?”

I gave no answer. I owed him nothing. I had kept myself from marrying 20-some men, just to wait for him. But fortunately for him, I didn’t do it to make him happy; I did it because I never found anyone that measured up to him. Sometimes, I wish I’d never met him, that we’d never fallen for each other. But we did, I am scarred for life, destined to care for a man who couldn’t find love if it smacked him across the face.

But I can’t blame him completely.

One night, about a year ago, he’d come for one of his token visits. We were taking our usual after-dinner coffee on the veranda, and he started into a series of strange questions that I didn’t fully understand until later.

He was asking me about what I wanted out of life, where I saw myself in 10 years…things of that nature. He asked me about the planet, but he was asking about my personal life, too. If I had known what he was getting at, I wouldn’t have been so cold at that moment. You see, I was angry with him at the time. He’d come a day late with no explanation, and when I asked him for one, he simply said “never mind.” So there, I was sulking and missed what he was getting at. I guess he was put off by my response, and he never talked to me like that again. I even tried to get us back to that line of conversation, but he stayed away from it like the plague. Keith is one of the bravest men I know, except when it comes to me.

So after several attempts at getting him to talk to me, I ceased my efforts and grew dimly cold. I’m too busy running a planet to stand around beating a dead horse with a stick. And that’s where we were until last night. Cold, distant, but friendly enough. But still, something was below the surface, and last night, I wanted to know it for sure.

After our exchange of words over the other woman, he leaned forward to rest his arms over the desk’s blueprint-covered surface.

“Allura, I don’t want to fight with you. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to fight with you either, Keith. That’s not why I came here tonight.”

“Why did you?”

I took pause of his calm, familiar features before answering. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I beg you not to pass judgement on what happened next. Simply put yourself in my position. I was exhausted in every way, constantly sick over the idea that I could lose everything tomorrow. Everything. You know when you reach that point of having nothing left to lose? Well, I had reached mine. Strange, times like this can be. It’s not that I wasn’t feeling like myself. In fact, I felt more like myself than I had in years. Sometimes, the wall comes down, whether you want it to or not.

“I had a bad dream. I was wondering if you wanted some company.”

He knew of my nightmares, and a frown spread across his tired features. “Sure. What would you like to talk about?”

Again, he wouldn’t know it if it smacked him across the face.

“I asked if you wanted some company.”

Naïve is not a word that I would use to describe Keith, but still, he sat and stared at me as if he was misreading something. I reassured him with a simple look and a characteristic tilting of the head.

He opened his mouth to say something but promptly shut it. Maybe he didn’t want to accidentally put his foot in it. At least he had the presence of mind to come sit next to me.

His voice was curiously low with intent. “Allura, what exactly do you mean?”

I think I looked down at the floor then. “What if we lose everything tomorrow, Keith? What if we lose, period?”

“We won’t…”

“Keith, stop…you can’t make promises like that.” I wasn’t angry, but it sounded like it.

He sighed and looked down.

I chose my next words carefully. “We might have to accept that Lotor could overpower us, especially now that we’ve lost Voltron.”

He then looked at me squarely. “Allura, I need to talk to you about something, and I want you to hear me out before you say anything.”

I nodded.

“Coran and I think that it might be wise to move you to a safer location…if only for a while. We can’t risk…”

“Absolutely not,” I interrupted.

“But…”

“Goodnight, Captain.” I stood to leave, but he took firm hold of my wrist to halt me.

“Why won’t you hear this out?”

I wasn’t in the mood to play games then. How dare he! Who was he to advise on my well being? A friend, that’s who. He was only a friend.

“One of the benefits of being a princess, my dear Captain, is that I don’t owe you any explanations.” I forcefully shook free of him and headed for the door.

A soft voice came from over my shoulder. “My dear princess, you at least owe me the courtesy of living.”

I turned around, but I let him approach me.

“You don’t own my life,” I reminded him. “If I wish to risk it, it is mine to do so. I don’t owe you anything.”

That sounded desperately more hurtfully than intended, and I regretted it immediately. He took a step back as his gaze fell to the floor.

“Keith, I didn’t mean that, really. I owe you so much. You’ve done so much for me…for Arus. We owe you our lives.”

He then stood up to his full 6’2” stature and looked down to meet my gaze. I could almost feel the warmth of his breath on my face, he was so close. “Then I suggest that you leave Arus until Lotor is stopped or the new Voltron is built.”

It was like having a conversation with a cement pillar. “Goodnight, Captain.”

I turned around to leave, but again, I was stopped by that voice. “I thought you asked me if I wanted some company. Well, I would like some…if the offer still stands.”

I then remembered why I had come there in the first place.

“It stands.”

I waited for him to make a move, but he just stood there, staring at me. He was probably wondering exactly what I meant. Hell, I was wondering what I meant. All I remember about that moment now, was how much the room stilled to a dead silence. We stood head to head, reveling in our own little universe (We had shared a few other moments like this before). No war, no politics, no contradictions of emotions. Just us.

But this time, it felt different.

I knew what I wanted from him, and it wasn’t for him to hold me tight until I stopped crying. That was the girl of my youth. I was a woman now for the most part, so don’t judge me for my actions. I did them with intent, and they were guiltless…and wonderful…and all of those other things that feel good.

I stood tall and lured him into a kiss. It was familiar; I already knew what his breath smelled like, how his lips felt like pressed to mine, but still, this kiss seemed different. Gone was the mild hesitation of our first two kisses. This one held intent and heat. I do believe that this was the first time I ever felt passion spread from my heart to the rest of my body.

I think that most people are afraid the first time they make love, but my fear was dull and diluted in the mixture of my other emotions at the time. In fact, I don’t remember being afraid when I first lay my hands on his bare chest. I just remember how warm he felt against my usually cold hands.

When I first touched his bare skin, he startled slightly and drew away.

“Allura, are you sure you want to do this?”

Oddly enough, he didn’t wait for an answer. He stepped forward and in one swift motion, he had me in a passionate embrace. He caught me near the end of a breath, and I had to struggle just to get air, but it was wonderful, and I wasn’t going to let something like oxygen get between me and it.

We stopped for a second, just to make sure that it was really happening, and continued on.

Ladies of the jury, for such a quiet man, he had no problem with his tongue. He was one of those who seemed to find a way to taste you rather than kiss you. It was gentle and sweet, but only at first. It soon became greedy and passionate. He had me before I even knew what was happening. It’s at that moment that the room starts to spin, and your knees get weak, and before you know it, you’re no longer vertical.

I’m not sure how I pictured my first time to be, but I never thought it would be on the floor. He caught us both from hitting the ground at full speed, and gently guided my head to lie on the blue plush rug near the foot of the bed. Not the most comfortable place, but neither of us had any intention of moving, and I was too distracted by what was happening to worry about it.

He was suddenly slow and soft again, and as he came to the collar of my low-cut nightgown, he stopped completely altogether. He was probably wondering if he should ask, but he never did. He went about pulling open the blue ribbon that kept my bodice intact (with his teeth, no less) and lowered himself so that he could inspect the contents freely.

I’m not sure if I can explain what I was feeling just then. Mind you, my experience in this department was limited to a brief roll in the pantry with a castle guard when I was sixteen and an innocent kiss with Lance in the lake about six years ago. But at that moment, when I knew that we were about to forgo clothing, I felt so much excitement, I thought I would squeal with happiness. In fact, I think I did. It drew the biggest smile from him that I think I’d seen in years.

After meticulously arranging the untied ribbon (he was stalling), he came up to kiss me again. I swear, if it were an Olympic event, he’d at least get the silver. Actually, now that I think about it, I hope he didn’t get that good from extensive practice.

After he parted from my lips, and then my gaze, he lowered his head to whisper something in my ear. Or at least I thought he was going to whisper something. All I could feel was his warm breath on my neck. I could smell the faint scent of shaving cream on him when he kissed me, and maybe a cologne of some type, but I never recall Keith owning any. Whatever it was, mixed with a faint lingering of soap and the increasing warmth of the room, it had me. If I could’ve eaten it, I would have. It was delicious, and it pleasured me completely.

We must have lay there for more than a few minutes, just staring at one another, reveling in the fact that we were together. Finally together. And then he flashed a brilliant smile and lowered himself to continue on with what he left unattended below.

His lips were now kissing my breasts, and I know I should’ve at least tried to be quiet - after all, someone could possibly hear us - but I couldn’t help it. The sensation was so new and delightful that I had to express my pleasure aloud. This seemed to please him, and he continued with more vigor, ignoring neither one nor the other with his lips, tongue, and large hands.

This is where my account gets a little hazy. My brain must have fogged over.

What happened next was most exciting sensation I had ever experienced. He came up on me and kissed me, but this time, he flexed the entire length of his manhood against my thigh, gradually moving toward the spread of my legs, pressing harder with every movement. The curiosity was overwhelming, and so with timid hand, I reached down and managed to slide a finger along his length, earning a throaty sigh from him in return. And despite that his pajama trousers were thin and I could feel and see its shape under them, I had an inexplicable urge to feel raw skin against my palm. So with intent this time, and without permission, I thrust my hand between us and entered his pants, taking it successfully. Instantly, he let out the most lustful noise I’d ever imagine a living creature could make. I can’t tell you how much I wanted to make him to do it again.

It seemed almost a natural thing to want to stroke it, and as I did, he groaned and sighed to my heart’s content. I would’ve continued forever, but he abruptly grabbing my busy hand to stop me.

“Not yet,” he struggled to say. “Not yet.”

At the time, I didn’t know exactly what he meant, but he soon distracted me with another full kiss.

By now, my breath came with erratic, labored effort, and I was sinking deeper into the moment. If someone were to have walked into the room unannounced, I swear I wouldn’t have known it. And it’s a good thing that no one did walk in at that moment, or they would’ve seen what happened next.

I hadn’t realized that while he had been pressing up against me in rhythmic thrusts, he had been slowly inching up my nightgown with stealth ability, and all of a sudden, I felt the damp coolness of the room over most of my body. I was nearly naked now, with my nightgown pulled up to almost the level of my navel, and I felt his thinly covered length directly against me, pulsating against my bare thigh.

The room was dimly lit, but it wasn’t dark. Only when he stopped and sat back on his haunches before me did I realize that. But it didn’t occur to me to be embarrassed or shy. I wanted him to look at me…all of me. And so with one purposeful effort, I sat up and tore off what remained of my nightgown.

And there I was - naked, sporting only a small Arusian charm necklace. For the first time, I was completely naked with the man I love.

At first, he seemed hesitant to look at me, as if he were still trying to be the tried and true gentleman, but that quickly faded with the remainder of my nightgown.

And then he came towards me.

I have to tell you, that one second that occurred between the time he lowered himself onto me and the moment his bare chest touched mine, I thought I was going to cry out. I had never imagined that ecstasy felt like this. So raw and greedy, yet so much happiness and pleasure. If it was a drug, I would be a willing addict.

He was between my legs now. I could feel it wanting to enter me, struggling to find a way through the soft, cotton barricade. Suddenly, I felt the need to free it.

With the one free hand that wasn’t wrapped around his neck, I reached down and pulled the small drawstring at his waist. His skin was hot, and I could feel heat emanating through the soft material. He shuddered when the neatly tied bow give way. He stopped kissing me then to concentrate on my efforts.

A strange urge came over me just then. I suddenly felt the need to run my nails down his back. I had given him a few short back massages before, but they were always completely harmless (well, maybe not completely), and they were always through the confinements of clothing. And so with all my effort, I reached around him with both hands and slowly ran my nails along the meticulously sculpted muscles of his svelte back, top to bottom.

It must have pleased him greatly, because he wasted no time in rewarding my efforts. Almost immediately, I felt his nimble fingers caressing my thighs, first near my knee, then slowly kneading their way up.

His breath came hard and ragged now, and I knew that the playfulness wouldn’t last much longer.

Both of my hands were free now, trying to remove my Captain’s loose pajama bottoms. He writhed with my efforts to get them off, and soon, they were in a carelessly discarded pile along with my long-forgotten nightgown. It was an amusing sight, and I think I giggled a little.

He smiled at me then and said, “I’ve always loved your laugh.”

But I didn’t respond. At that moment, his fingers found their way between the confines of my inner thigh, and he began caressing that which was swelling with need.

Whatever hesitation existed early on in our tryst, it was forgotten by now. With a careful, yet firm hand, he touched me in such a rhythmic fashion that it seemed as if we were almost dancing. He was guiding me with his strong hand, and I was throwing my head back in wild response. His fingers entered me, one at first…then more. He moved them in and out. It felt tight, but I still wanted more. In fact, I remember telling him that I wanted more. But then, he stopped. I watched with dizzied curiosity as he lowered himself down between my legs and began that which would lead me to utter ecstasy.

His tongue made no sign of hesitation. It instantly entered me and began to explore that which was previously untouched. I remember that he was using one hand to assist his effort while the other rested gently on my belly. He was tireless, and so was I. I wished it would have lasted forever, but it couldn’t…I couldn’t. The last thing I noticed before crying out was how wet it felt and how hot his breath was on my thighs.

I couldn’t stifle the scream. Suddenly, an energy engulfed me that I’d never known before, and I would’ve tore away from him if I could have. But he held me firmly to him, releasing me only when he knew that there was nothing left.

The sudden burst of adrenaline was soon replaced with a paralyzing weakness, and I could barely open my eyes. When I did, he was looking up at me, something inexplicable on his face.

And then, his need to wait was over.

He inched over to me and picked us both up from the floor with a swift grace. He said nothing, but I could tell by the look on his face what he wanted.

Gently, he set us both down on the bed, quickly coming up between my legs again. He kissed me softly on the lips and reached down.

With all my effort, I tried not to cry out as he entered me. Not from pain. In fact, it barely hurt at all. I wanted to cry out from happiness, the ecstasy I was feeling at that moment. Together, we began moving as one.

I could tell that he struggled to contain himself. He was moving slowly, stopping at times. But I wanted him to come to me in a maddened rush, so I gestured for him to roll onto his back so that I could give him that.

I was definitely an amateur, but my body felt like a pro. I straddled him hard and deep, and with a new explosive energy, I tore into a rhythm that made him cry out in pleasure. It was not long after that. He came loudly and long as he forced my hips down around him. The wetness filled me from within, and I whimpered at the sensation.

When it was over, I collapsed onto him, and we struggled to regain some semblance of normalcy to our relieved bodies. He held me in his arms and kissed my head, and for once in my life, everything felt right.

We stayed up the rest of that night, and I don’t think I have to tell you that that first time wasn’t the last.

I’m not exactly sure where this is all headed, but I don’t plan on analyzing it too much. Some things just feel right. So Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, if pleasure is a crime, I’m guilty as charged.