𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀, luke castellan

ꜰᴏᴜʀᴛʏ-ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ

Love and Lies.

🌎

    RORY'S BACK PRESSED FIRMLY AGAINST THE STONE WALL, the jagged texture a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from Luke’s own body. The surface behind her should've felt cold, sending shivers up her spine, but it must've been quickly overtaken by the heat of his proximity. His chest was so close, she could feel the rise and fall of his breath, quick and uneven, mirroring her own erratic heartbeat.

    Luke’s hands were planted firmly on either side of her, his arms creating a barrier that both caged her in and held her steady. His lips moved against hers with a desperate intensity, each kiss full of hunger and urgency, as though every second mattered, as though there were no time to waste. Rory responded to him without hesitation, her body moving instinctively, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly. His presence was all-consuming, leaving her with no room to think, no space for doubt. It was just him—just them—in this moment.

    One of his hands moved from the wall, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin as he brought it to the back of her neck. His touch was both possessive and gentle, his fingers curling around the nape of her neck with firm but careful pressure. His thumb rested against her throat, just barely grazing her skin, the soft touch sending a shudder through her as her pulse quickened beneath his hand.

    His touch was firm, grounding, but his lips were soft against hers, warm and insistent, moving with a rhythm that had her heart racing. The way his tongue teased hers, sending shocks of pleasure through her body, made it nearly impossible to think straight.

    One of her hands slipped up into his hair, her fingers tangling in the soft strands, tugging lightly. Luke groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through her, sending a fresh wave of warmth flooding her system. It was the kind of warmth that reminded her of sitting by a fire back at camp, cozy and consuming, wrapping her in a sense of safety and comfort that had become all too rare in their lives.

    It had been so long since they’d had a moment like this—truly alone, without the weight of the world pressing down on their shoulders, without the constant threat of danger looming just beyond the horizon. Somehow, there was no immediate crisis, no looming catastrophe to steal them away from each other. But despite that, a small voice nagged at the back of Rory’s mind, questioning how they had even managed to find this fleeting sliver of time now. Surely there were more pressing matters to attend to, responsibilities they were shirking, dangers lurking around the corner. Rory struggled to think. Her mind was dizzy and the only thing she could really concentrate on was Luke.

    His other hand had drifted down to her waist, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate lines along the hem of her shirt. The gentle brush of his fingertips sent a ripple of sensation through her, a teasing sort of touch that had her skin tingling in its wake. There was a hesitancy to his movements, as though he was testing the boundaries, making sure it was okay before he proceeded.

    The intimacy of his touch sent her heart racing all over again. It wasn’t just the kiss anymore—it was the way he held her, the way his hand rested on her waist, so close yet so careful. The way his thumb brushed softly along her throat, a reminder of how close they were, how vulnerable she was in this moment. But it wasn’t a frightening kind of vulnerability. It was something else—something deeper. Trust. The kind of trust that only came from knowing someone as deeply as she knew Luke, from knowing that he would never push her too far, never hurt her, even when the world around them seemed so determined to tear them apart.

    His fingers finally found their way underneath the hem of her shirt, resting gently on her skin, lingering, her skin burning where his hand rested.