Mantis feels his weight settle against her, a familiar warmth blooming in her chest as her legs lock around his hips, drawing him impossibly closer. His fingertips brush over the curve of her waist, then trail up to cup her face, thumb grazing her jawline in a touch that is as commanding as it is tender, grounding her in every gasp and quiver.

She meets his gaze through half-lidded eyes, heart fluttering at the heat of his focus. When he leans down to kiss her, it’s slow and almost reverent, a promise of what’s to come. Each gentle press of his lips melts away her defenses, leaving her skin hypersensitive to the slightest graze of his fingers in her hair, the firm guidance of his hand on her cheek.

As he shifts, each deliberate thrust teaches her the delicious power of surrender, building from a soft, teasing rhythm into a harder, more insistent pace. Mantis presses her palm harder to his face, memorizing every nuance, the pull of his jaw, the steady beat of his breath, pressing herself into him until her own breath comes in ragged moans and her body trembles with need.

The world narrows to the slick slide of skin on skin, the electric charge of his hands on her curves, and an exquisite ache blooming deep within her. In every moment she is both witness and surrender, her usual strength melting into the sweet thrill of being held, guided, and wholly claimed by him. And maybe, just maybe, something she'd quietly longed for is finally being answered in his touch.