musicalluna

His breath came in sharp, short bursts, lungs burning as they tried to take in the oxygen they had been struggling to pull in for the last ten terrifying minutes. His legs still twitched and tingled, still working to keep him running, even to the point of exhaustion, despite the fact that he was on his knees now, bent over her, his hands gently but frantically moving to cup her face.

A thumb brushed over her cheek, hazel eyes darting back and forth, scanning her face rapidly and he breathed, "Oh, come on, come on Jules, wake up. Wake up, now, please."

Her skin was warm and soft against his fingertips, a faint but reassuring throb against the palm pressed to her neck. Her eyelashes fluttered and then slid open, a soft moan seeping from between her lips. "…Shawn?" she mumbled, disoriented.

"Oh, god, Jules," he replied, only pressing closer to her, his voice weak with relief. "I thought…oh god, Jules…" His head dropped, forehead touching hers and he closed his eyes tightly, taking dangerously deep breaths, inhaling the scent of her, sweat and shampoo and powder, warm and alive.

"Shawn," she mumbled again, still sounding dazed and her trembling fingers brushed his thigh, electricity exploding through him.

His eyes opened, taking in the bewildered blue irises looking back at him, memorizing the tiny variations, the spikes of color, the darkening and lightening of the blue and even the small specks of pale brown. "You’re alive," he breathed, and his voice trembled, cracking.

Her forehead creased slightly and she said, "Of course I—"

She was cut off as Shawn pressed his mouth to hers, his hand reaching out to curl hers within his own and pull it against his chest. His lips were warm and soft, and her hand splayed on his chest, on the edge of pushing him away, feeling his racing heartbeat through the fabric. Her first thought was that she should stop him, that this was wrong, but the desperation and careful passion of the kisses and his mouth insistent and reassuring and utterly disarming was too much to fight.

When he finally relented, his breathing was harsh and he pressed his cheek to one of her temples, a hand against the opposite side of her face, his touch gentle but firm.

"It’s time to talk about you and I, Jules," he murmured.

She turned her head and kissed him again.