The bridge ahead groaned under the weight of rust and age, its steel lattice trembling faintly with every gust of wind. Fog wrapped around the structure like a living veil, masking the chasm below, and every creak sounded louder in the quiet night. Travis slowed the car, eyes scanning the darkness.
"This is… less than reassuring," I muttered, pressing my hands to the cold metal railing. My reflection in the water below flickered like a ghost. Hunters could appear at any moment.
Travis gave me that infuriating grin. "Ah, dramatic, just how I like it. Besides, bridges make great backdrops for intimacy."
I shot him a glare. "Intimacy? On a crumbling bridge while possibly being hunted?"
He leaned close, his warm breath brushing my ear. "Exactly. Life is better when it's dangerous."
A shiver ran down my spine, not entirely from the cold. His proximity ignited something inside me—tension that had been building on the road, during stolen touches in motels, during nights hiding from the hunters in fogged-over alleys. I swallowed, trying to focus, but the pull between us was magnetic.
We moved carefully across the bridge, stepping in sync, every plank creaking underfoot. The fog closed in around us, muffling sound, hiding the world. I felt Travis's hand brush mine, accidental, deliberate—I couldn't tell. My heart raced.
"You're sweating," he murmured, brushing his thumb lightly across the back of my hand. "From fear… or me?"
I bit my lip, unsure whether to swat him away or lean closer. "Both," I admitted, voice low.
He grinned, eyes smoldering in the dim light. "Good answer. Honest. Brave. Hot."
The first kiss was tentative—just a brush of lips—but it ignited a fire I hadn't realized I was holding back. His hands slid to my waist, steadying me against the chill of the metal railing, but his touch lingered, exploring, gentle but demanding. I leaned into him, letting the warmth spread, letting the danger fade into the background for a heartbeat.
"Careful," I whispered, heart hammering. "Hunters could—"
"Hunters be damned," he interrupted, pressing me against him fully, his lips finding mine again. This time slower, deeper, an intimacy that spoke of trust and need. Every nerve ending buzzed with anticipation, fear mixing with desire, creating a heady, intoxicating sensation.
I melted into him, hands tangling in his damp hair, tugging lightly, eliciting a low groan that sent shivers down my spine. The fog swirled around us, masking our silhouettes, but I felt exposed in the most thrilling way.
Travis's hands roamed carefully, learning curves, memorizing weight, memorizing warmth. The world narrowed to our shared breath, our murmured names, the slick of his skin under mine.
"You feel… impossible," I whispered against his lips.
"Impossible is my middle name," he teased, though his voice was low, husky, sincere. He brushed a strand of hair from my cheek, lingering with his thumb, thumb tracing the line of my jaw, sending sparks across my nerves.
We moved against the railing, pressed together, the tension building, the fog a silent witness to our urgency and restraint. Every kiss was slow, deliberate, savoring the moment, testing boundaries, enjoying closeness we hadn't allowed ourselves before.
"Travis…" I murmured, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. My breath was ragged, chest rising and falling in sync with his. "We can't… not now."
He smirked, but the heat in his eyes was undeniable. "We're alive. Right now. That's enough. Let's… exist in this moment."
The intimacy wasn't just physical. It was trust, vulnerability, a confession of need without words. I leaned against him, forehead touching his, hands tracing the line of his arms, memorizing the strength, the warmth, the solidity of him.
"Promise me you won't ever leave," I whispered, voice barely audible over the fog's whisper.
"Never," he murmured, hands sliding down my back. "I've got you. Always."
We stayed like that for what felt like hours—kissing, holding, sharing the silence between heartbeats, until reality pressed back. Hunters were still out there, waiting, planning, watching. The fog didn't hide everything.
Reluctantly, we pulled back, breathing ragged, skin still tingling from the closeness. Travis pressed a quick, lingering kiss to my temple before stepping away, checking the road.
"Alive, dramatic, dangerous—and possibly insane," he murmured, starting toward the car. "All checked."
I shook my head, half-laughing despite the tension. "You're impossible."
"Ah, impossible. See? Consistency," he said, voice teasing, fingers brushing mine again. That small, fleeting contact left a spark lingering long after we climbed back into the car.
As we drove on, the fog thickened, shadows lengthening. Hunters remained a threat, close and unpredictable. But for the first time in a long while, I felt something else: desire, trust, and the sharp ache of attachment. Travis wasn't just my partner in survival anymore. He was mine.
The night stretched on, dark and full of uncertainty, but we had each other—and that intimacy, that spark, was a dangerous, beautiful thing. Something worth fighting for.