No secrets left to hide

part 1

So Far - Arnor Dan, Olafur Arnalds (Broadchurch Soundtrack)

“Why did you fuck me that night then, huh?” her use of that word momentarily stunned him. 

“Did you fuck me to prove something?” she shoved him hard in the chest.

“Did you enjoy taking advantage of me?” she shoved him again even harder, until he was backed up against the wall. 

He was fed up with her nonsense. When she went to hit him again he trapped her wrists in his hands and gripped tight, swinging her around so she was pressed hard against the wall. He pushed his body into her, not caring that she could feel his arousal against her abdomen. She gasped initially, then tried to break free, her movements doing nothing to lessen his desire for her. He brought his face close to hers so their noses brushed. 

“I didn’t fuck you to prove anything.” he gritted out. “I did it because I was in love with you.”

Her plump lips parted in surprise. She was looking up at him with her doll-like eyes, but she was so close they were nearly crossed. 

“And I haven’t touched a girl before or since. Anladin mi?” his tone left no room for misunderstanding.

Her shock rendered her helpless against him. He brought his mouth down firmly on hers, using his grip on her wrists to pull her into him as he pushed hard against her. He broke away after a few seconds, the suction sound of his lips parting from hers echoing off the walls. 

“I never wanted anything in my whole life as much as I want you.”

She searched his eyes for truth and then stunned him once again by tilting her head up and planting her mouth on his. She’d done this before, initiated and deepened a kiss, but that day on the bridge was different, the emotion behind it was different. This had urgency and a hint of desperation, but the sadness and fear were gone, replaced by passion and aggression. Their tongues fought for dominance, just as they had, but he was in the advantageous position and he used it. He could tell she liked it, just like he enjoyed her combativeness. 

This was something that always bubbled under the surface. Every touch, every glance, every fight, every tender moment, it was there. That tension, the pull they felt to each other never went away, sometimes it simmered and sometimes it boiled, but the heat remained. Now it was too much. The tension boiled over and they surrendered themselves to it. The heat was so intense that he feared what might become of them, but the fear wasn’t enough to deter him from seeking the sweet satisfaction of their union. He’d only felt it once before, but he knew how it could break a person and heal them at the same time. 

She let him press her into the wall and push his tongue in her mouth, but she didn’t submit. She all but tore the jacket from his shoulders, then proceeded to rip open his tailored white shirt, sending buttons flying in all directions. His chest heaved with the breaths he needed to keep up with his racing heart. He kissed her ear, her neck, inhaling a shuddering breath as her delicate fingers skimmed down his torso to his belt. She unfastened it, undid the button and had the zipper down before he could stop her. 

His hands clamped down on her wrists, terrified of embarrassing himself if she continued, he turned his attention to her. Following her lead he tore impatiently at her shirt dress, tearing the fabric rather than popping the buttons. He looked guilty and she looked affronted for half a moment before a satisfied smirk bloomed on his face and her eyes sparkled with lust. He pulled the ruined garment down her body in one fast motion, leaving her in her simple white cotton slip. She returned the gesture by pushing his ruined shirt off his shoulders and down his arms.