Patricia's POV ...
"Are you scared?"
I kissed his jaw. Sucked it slowly. Felt the stubble scratch against my lips—rough, real, alive.
He didn't smell bad. That surprised me.
If anyone smelled bad in this room, it would be me—days without proper washing, hours of crying, fear and desperation seeping through my pores like a sickness.
But he smelled clean. Soap and something underneath. Something warm. Something human.
"Or are you impotent?"
"I'm not!" He flinched. Pulled back. But his eyes—they flickered. A crack in the armor.
"Then help me." I stepped closer. Pressed my body against his. Felt his heat through the thin fabric of his uniform. Felt his tension—muscles coiled like springs. Felt his fear—heart hammering against his ribs, matching mine.
"Just this once."
His breath hitched. A sharp, broken sound.
