The dim violet light in the bedroom gradually gives way to the deep, heavy dark of full night, the distant hum of the city fading into a quiet background pulse.
The air between us is still thick with the residual heat of earlier, but the gentle rhythm of Locke’s breathing against my hair has shifted. There’s a subtle tension returning to his frame, a stiffness in the muscle that hasn't completely dissolved.
I shift slightly, propping my chin on his broad, warm chest. He looks down at me, his eyes shadowed in the faint glow of the moon filtering through the floor-to-ceiling glass.
"Locke?" I say softly.
"Yeah, baby?"
"When you came home earlier..." I hesitate. "Aside from the fact that I thoroughly enjoyed helping you work off all that pent-up frustration against the wall..."
Locke’s
