Chapter 25 Re
Reunion
The house is quiet, the kind of quiet that amplifies every sound—the creak of the stairs, the whisper of fabric as she takes my hand, the hammer of my heart as she leads me up to her room. I follow her like I’ve been following her my whole life.
The door clicks shut behind us. Moonlight filters through the curtains, silvering the edges of her hair, her face. She turns to me, her eyes glassy, her lips parted like she’s holding back everything she’s wanted to say for sixty years.
And then she doesn’t hold back at all.
She steps into me, her hands coming to my face, pulling me down to her. Her mouth meets mine with a hunger that steals the air from my lungs. Tears sting my eyes even as I kiss her back, desperate, like I’ve been waiting in the dark and she is the light flooding in.
“God, Clara,” I whisper against her lips, my voice breaking. “You’re here. You’re real. I never thought I’d touch you again.”
Her hand trembles as it presses over my heart. “I never stopped loving you,” she breathes, and the words slice me open in the most beautiful way.
We kiss again, harder, deeper, our tears mingling with the urgency of mouths that can’t stop. My hands skim her waist, her back, memorizing every inch as though I’ve been starved for her—and I have. Decades of longing pour out of me in every touch, every kiss.
She pulls back just far enough to look at me, her eyes burning with both relief and joy. Her fingers trail down my cheek, across my jaw, and she whispers the words that undo me completely, “Take me, Marcel.”
The air between us shudders. My throat works around a broken sound, half a groan, half a prayer. I cup her face, my forehead pressed to hers, and breathe, “Are you sure?”
She nods, tears spilling freely, her lips brushing mine with the answer. “Forever sure.”
Something inside me breaks loose. Years of restraint, of waiting, of silent prayers. My hands move with care, sliding down her arms, pulling her against me. We kiss again, slower now, deeper, as I walk her back toward the bed. Each step feels like crossing a threshold, each kiss a renewed vow.
When we reach the edge of the mattress, I pause, just looking at her. Her cheeks flushed, her chest rising in quick, uneven breaths, her eyes wide and shimmering with everything I’ve ever wanted reflecting back at me.
“You were my first, you’ll be my last, and you’ll forever be my only,” I whisper, brushing my thumb across her lips. “In life, in death, in every shadow in between.”
Her answering smile is tremulous, radiant.
“I don’t know how I deserved your devotion.
Thank you, Marcel, for waiting for me, for staying.
I want to prove to you every day for the rest of eternity that you made the right choice.
I’ll show you how thankful I am that you chose the possibility of me over heaven that awaits us. ”
Something inside her shifts, a determination I don’t recognize until she pulls gently from my arms. For a moment I think she’s stepping away, but then Clara lowers herself in front of me, her hands steady even as her eyes shine with tears and fire.
“Clara,” I whisper, stunned, the sound breaking in my throat. “What are you—”
She looks up at me, her voice soft but unshakable. “I want to show you what you mean to me. Let me, Marcel.”
My breath catches. I’ve never seen adoration like this, never felt so completely undone. My hands twitch at my sides, unsure whether to stop her or pull her closer. “I don’t…I’ve never…” The words falter, clumsy, the heat in my face betraying me.
Her smile curves, tremulous but sure, as her fingers move to my belt.
The clink of the buckle echoes in the quiet, her touch both reverent and daring as she eases it open.
My chest heaves, my pulse hammering. When she unbuttons my jeans and slides the zipper down, her knuckles brush my skin, and the air leaves me in a ragged gasp.
“Then trust me,” she whispers. “Trust that I want to make you feel good, Cowboy.”
When her hand frees me, the ache of being bared to her nearly doubles me over. My eyes slam shut for a heartbeat, the sound that escapes me half-groan, half-prayer. When I force them open again, she’s still watching me, her gaze steady and full of quiet fire.
I reach for her without thinking, my hand cupping her jaw, thumb brushing over the softness of her cheek. “God, Clara,” I rasp, every word trembling. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.” My voice cracks, raw with awe. “You make me feel like I’ll never survive this…but I don’t care if I do.”
She leans into my touch, her lips parting, her breath warm against my skin. The innocence of her affection collides with the hunger in her gaze, and for the first time in a lifetime of waiting, I surrender fully.
“Take me in your mouth, Firefly,” I whisper, voice breaking as my fingers thread into her hair.
Her lips brush the tip of me, feather-light, and I nearly come undone before she’s even begun. A strangled groan claws out of my chest, my hand tightening gently at her jaw as if to anchor myself.
“Clara…” My voice is a rasp, broken. “I—God help me, I can’t—”
But then she closes her mouth over me, and the world fractures. Heat and wet surround me, a bliss I never thought I’d know, and my knees nearly give way. I’ve dreamed of her for decades, haunted myself with thoughts of her, but nothing could have prepared me for this.
I stroke my thumb along her cheek, my fingers trembling in her hair. “Jesus Christ, you’re…you’re really…” The words break into a groan as she sinks lower, taking more of me, the wet sound filling the room.
She hums softly around me, and I jolt, hips bucking forward before I can stop myself. Shame and want crash together, but her hand steadies me, holding me firm while she works me deeper.
My head tips back, a ragged moan escaping me. “You’re killing me, Clara. God, you’re going to ruin me for the rest of eternity.” My voice is raw, wrecked, every word pulled from a place I can’t control.
She pulls back, lips glistening, eyes burning as she looks up at me, breath warm against my skin. “Good,” she whispers, voice husky. “That’s how I want you.”
And then she takes me again, deeper, her tongue working me with a dedication that leaves me trembling. My grip in her hair tightens, my other hand reaching for her cheek again, desperate to feel every part of her. My breath saws out of me in broken, helpless gasps.
“Clara—Christ—I’m not going to last. I can’t—”
Her mouth moves on me again, slow and unrelenting, and my entire body trembles. The sound of her breathing, the wet pull of her lips, the heat of her tongue — it’s all too much. My thumb strokes her jaw as if I can soothe myself through her skin, but my hand shakes.
“Clara…Firefly… I can’t—” My voice is a hoarse whisper, every word dragged out of me. “I’m going to…”
She doesn’t stop. If anything, she grows steadier, her hands braced at my hips to keep me still while she takes me deeper. The sight of her like this — eyes closed, hair falling forward, mouth worshiping me — undoes me completely. A sound tears from my throat, half a moan, half a prayer.
“God, Clara. You’re…you’re perfect.” My head tips back, my fingers threading into her hair. “No one’s ever…no one…” The words dissolve into a strangled groan.
I try to hold back, but she pulls me farther into her warmth, and the last of my control shatters. My body jerks, my hips rocking once against her hands. “Clara—oh, fuck—Clara—”
The world explodes white behind my eyes. Pleasure floods through me in hot, helpless waves, every muscle locking as I spill into her mouth. She stays with me, steady and sure, taking all of me, her hands firm at my hips as if to anchor me while I come apart.
When the tremors ease, I open my eyes and look down at her. She’s still kneeling, lips glistening, her eyes lifting to mine—not shy, but burning, fierce and soft all at once.
A rough sound escapes me. My hand cradles her face, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. “Firefly…you’ve just…that was amazing.”
She swallows, her lips curve faintly, and leans her cheek into my palm. “Good,” she whispers. “That was the response I was hoping for.”
Her whisper seems to echo through me, soft and lethal. For a heartbeat I can only stare at her, still kneeling at my feet, the flush of her cheeks, the faint sheen at her lips. She looks both holy and unmade, and my chest aches with a kind of gratitude I don’t have words for.
“Come here,” I murmur, my voice still wrecked but steadier now. I slide my hands under her arms and draw her up, slow and careful, until she’s standing. The warmth of her body presses into mine, and I kiss her, tasting myself on her mouth and losing any sense of shame.
Her hands splay over my chest, palms trembling against my heartbeat, and I press my forehead to hers. “You undo me, Clara,” I breathe. “Every time I touch you, every time you look at me, it’s like you’re tearing me open and stitching me back together all at once.”
I bend and scoop her up, her legs instinctively curling around my waist. She gasps, her arms circling my shoulders, and I carry her the few steps to the bed.
The mattress dips under her weight as I lay her down, still dressed, her hair fanning against the pillow.
I slide my pants off, and climb onto the bed, my body over hers.
For a moment, I just hover over her, my chest rising hard, my hands braced beside her head.
Then I smooth her hair back from her face. I kiss her once more, slow and aching, before trailing my lips lower, over her jaw, down the slope of her throat. She sighs, her back arching toward me as if her body has been waiting years for mine.
I let out a shaky laugh, leaning down to brush my lips over her shoulder. “Jeans and a shirt,” I murmur against her skin, voice rough. “You don’t know what a mercy this is, Firefly. Not like back then, with those cursed corsets and a dozen layers between me and you.”
She laughs too, a breathless, broken sound that melts into a gasp as I trail kisses lower. “I remember,” she whispers, her hand tangling in my curls. “You fought every layer like it was the devil himself.”
I smile against her skin, though my throat burns with the tears threatening to spill. “I would’ve spent a lifetime on every button if it meant I could touch you, hold you.”
My fingers find the buttons of her blouse, working them loose one by one. I press a kiss to each patch of skin I reveal, from the hollow of her throat to the soft swell of her chest. She trembles under my mouth, her hands sliding into my hair, urging me on.
“Marcel,” she whispers the word but it echoes through my veins.
I ease the blouse from her shoulders, kissing down the length of her arm before slipping it away.
Next, I linger at the waistband of her jeans, my fingers brushing just beneath the fabric as my mouth claims hers again, deep and needy.
Only when she nods against me do I unfasten them, pulling them down slowly, my lips following every inch of bare skin revealed.
I throw the jeans to the floor, placing my mouth to the inside of her thigh, she’s bare, her breath uneven, her body trembling beneath my hands.
I pause there, looking up the line of her body, into her eyes.
“I’ve dreamt of this,” I whisper. “Every night I waited, I imagined undressing you like this. Kissing you like this. Finally touching you the way I wanted to for so long.”
I strip off my shirt in a rush, desperate to feel her against me again, skin to skin. When I lower myself over her, her hands explore me like she’s relearning the map of my body, her touch hesitant, then bold.
“You’re beautiful,” I rasp, kissing her cheeks, her jaw, the corner of her mouth. “God help me, Clara, you’re everything I ever wanted.”
“You still think I’m beautiful? My body isn’t the same as the one you knew, Marcel.”
The words spear me straight through. I lower myself over her, cupping her face in my hand until her eyes meet mine again. “You are still the girl who stole my breath, and the woman who kept my heart alive all these years. Nothing, no change, no time, could ever take that beauty from you.”