"It won't," Sol promised gently, holding her gaze. "The reason it hurt was because I rushed it. This time, we will do it right. Didn't we do it once successfully? This time will be okay too, we will lubricate it properly, take it bit by bit, and I won't move an inch faster than you allow. Trust me."
"No, absolutely not." She replied, still afraid of earlier tearing pain.
"Then what do you suggest?" he asked quietly. "We stay like this until morning? I don't mind, but what about you?"
Silence.
Zephyra's forehead dropped back to the furs. She was trapped between pain, pride, and the simple truth that they could not remain locked together forever.
Zephyra stared at him, her chest rising and falling heavily. After a long, defeated moment she spoke again, her voice small and barely audible.
"Fine... fine! But if it hurts like before, I swear I will bite your arm off!"
Sol's pulse jumped.
"Deal," Sol smirked.
"We'll go slow," he promised. "Proper lubrication this time."
