Work Text:
He was afraid of the war, of the pain, of The Greater Good.
Against all odds, neither killed him.
War ended, but fear remained.
The fear of being himself, of being alone again.
He was afraid, because he had never known if she sought him lured by the forbidding version he played in public. A farce too convincing, he often believed it himself.
But it was in those shared moments after sex, when he couldn't help but lower his defences and lay helpless at her mercy, that he saw the telling glimpses.
How she caressed his face, searching his eyes for signs of distress; how she enveloped him with her body, so he felt warm and cared for; the way that, every time, she looked over her shoulder before leaving, and smiled, quietly assuring she would be back.
Hence, he dared to ask, to put everything on the table and offer himself wholly, as the damaged, needy man he really was.
She could have destroyed him with rejection, mockery and disgust, but she smiled again, making good on all her unspoken promises.
Now, he would deny her nothing, because he knows if she suggests, it will fit what he needs — she does her research, brilliant and relentless as she is, she excelled in this art, too.
In this room, he is himself, and is not afraid anymore, of no one, of nothing, least of all, of admitting that he belongs to her.
