Warning: Mature Content Ahead.
Darien climbs off her and doesn't move at first. He stands there in the dim light, chest rising and falling as if every breath is something he has to wrestle into his control. His shirt clings to his back from the earlier activity, the faint sheen of sweat making it stick to the hard lines of his shoulders. He should turn his back, give her privacy, and walk away.
But he doesn't.
Instead, he reaches for the buttons of his shirt.
Her eyes are wide and startled. Yet, they follow his fingers. She squirms slightly against the sheets, tugging the blanket higher over herself. The motion is so small, so shy, but Kairos rumbles inside him, "She's watching. Don't rush. Make her watch."
So he doesn't rush.
