Carver laughs. "Well, we're here, we have some hours here. The door is shut." She wiggles against him slowly, working her knees, then her feet, upward until her ankles are by his head. She even manages to keep him mostly tucked inside her. "How about my feet over your shoulders?"

After some shifting around, he has her graceful ankles on his shoulders, and he's cupping her delicate backside. Carver is on her back, smiling eagerly at him. And it's totally up to Harry - to decide the pace, the depth; she literally can't do much from his position. Her legs press together tightly; forcing everything closer together, close around him. If he ever thought about losing firmness, the thought was gone. And this position allows him to penetrate as deep as from behind while still looking into her eyes.

"Oh god," Carver moans as he begins to move again. "I don't know if I can survive this. This is too good." She must have sensed hesitation, because she looks sharply at him. "Don't you dare stop, I was exaggerating! If you stop, I will have – oh, god! - to kill you.” Her hands reached up to stroke his arms and her eyes are pleading as she whispers, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop, not now, not when you’re still inside me like this…”

As if to emphasize her point, Carver reaches down between them and begins to run her fingers over the exposed part of him, letting his motion move her fingers over his slick, sensitive skin. “Is that good?” she asks. “Or am I getting in the way?”

*  *  *

Why didn't they do this earlier; she feels so good like this and he can still see every inch of her. She's already starting to stir and he's barely started. Mythic slows his stroke to a near snail's pace and locks his dark eyes on Carver's, "It's good... but when you want all of me I'll need the room." Her nod turns into a quiver as she gasps with his slow motions.

No stopping then... he remembers something he heard about pacing and timing. Now's as good of a time as ever and experimentation seems to be the word of the night. Mythic starts slow, each long thrust and withdrawal meant to pull out every tiny sensation, closely watching Carver as the pressure slowly builds within her. Soon enough, her fingers move away inviting him to press fully into her.

With the closest thing to a grin his form can make, Mythic suddenly increases his speed, bringing a surprised and ecstatic gasp from Carver. He counts out five thrusts then returns to the slower pace, sliding one hand up from that perfectly shaped rear to the inside of her thigh, "If you..." He doesn't have to say more as she immediately loosens her legs enough for deft fingers to slip in and her back arches in anticipation even before he reaches her lips.

Eight... nine... ten. He speeds the pace up again, fingers matching it, and forces his mind to keep track of his count. This time, he adds an extra fast thrust, taking it away from the next round of slow penetration, all the while complimenting every stroke with his fingers and keeping her eyes locked on his...

*  *  *

His eyes pierce almost as much as he does. They nail her to the bed, locking her in place, holding her there with the indescribable emotions that cross his face. Pleasure and ecstasy mix with longing fulfilled and Carver feels nothing but pure joy that she’s put it there. And then he starts a very rhythmic thrusting and Carver doesn’t feel anything but him.

When Harry offers to stroke her, Carver moves her legs and fast. She can’t get enough of his fingers on her, driving her forward into madness. She doesn’t mind having to hold her legs in place, not if he’s doing that. His fingers move and circle over her skin, exciting her yet again tonight. How much more can I take? How long until I just can’t go on?

Her pleasure rises in cycles, matching Harry’s rhythmic thrusts. She was focusing on him; touching his arms, his shoulders, whatever she could reach, trying to help him. She had thought that after so many releases tonight, she wouldn’t come easily, if at all, but a sudden spike of pleasure tingles up her legs. She is taken off guard by the virtual onslaught from her own body and can only whimper. “Harry… Harry!” she cries, her face twisted with pleasure. “Oh, god, Harry!”

Her hands are flat on the bed; with no warning, her claws flash out, sinking into the mattress. Carver doesn’t seem to notice that her fingers are sunk into the bed up to her knuckles. Mindless to anything but the pleasure Harry makes her feel, Carver can only shiver and moan in ecstasy.

*  *  *

There's nothing he sees but her beautiful and euphoric face, nothing he can feel but her body shuddering around him in pure bliss, and nothing on his mind except sharing the seemingly bottomless well of pleasure between them. Right now, nothing exists but the two of them and even that is starting to be eclipsed by the building pressure inside him.

Her cries rocket down his spine, stoking his burning desire beyond any point it's ever reached as leaves the cycles behind in favor for thrusting into her with every ounce of speed he has. There's nothing else he wants but her and his body howls with pleasure. Both of them have pushed each other to unspeakable heights together, time and time again, and he can't even conceive of a better place to be. Finally, he thrusts hard and deep into her just as she cries his name one last time and his whole body spasms as he orgasms even deeper than his last climax.

Aftershocks of pleasure bring out little quakes and shudders in their bodies as they stay pressed together on the bed. When he can move again, Mythic delicately tries to move Carver's legs into a more comfortable position, and that odd whisper carries a real tone of humor, "Amped had to have heard that."

*  *  *

Carver turns red and starts to put her hands over her face, but her fingers are tangled up in the mattress. "Oh, my god," she breathes, her voice filled with horror. "Harry, I lost control of my claws! Look!"

Carver pulls away from him, her hands shaking as she examines the holes in the mattress. Silver-gray eyes flash as she whispers, "What if I had been holding onto you? Oh, god, I could have hurt you, really hurt you!" She throws her arms around him and moans, "I might have really hurt you!"

"You should get away from me," she says suddenly, pushing away from him. Tears are pouring down her face. "I'm not good to be around. Owen died because of me; I... I don't want anything to happen to you too!"

*  *  *

Oh no, she's thinking about that again... don't let her feel that way, make it better. Slowly, the indigo wings retract back into his body, skin lightens to a more normal hue, and Harold's face returns to its much more expressive state. Better to help her like this, not as something so... silent. Somehow, his body has retained some of the strange physical prowess and attractiveness but he doesn't seem to notice. It's obvious his entire focus is on her, filled with honest concern and tenderness

Okay, one step at a time. Harold reaches for Carver's hands and gently takes them into his, "Nothing is going to happen to me being near you, no worse than what happens to me on a weekly basis in unscripted bouts."

He slides an arm up hers until it's over her shoulders, "You're great to be around, so much better than the rest of those people out there. I promised I wouldn't leave and I'll stay with you as long as you need me. And not just because I said so, but because I want to be around you, I want to help you."

Where is this coming from? How are these words still coming out of him without a stutter or a quiver in his voice? Finally, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into the most comforting and caring embrace he can manage, "I can't tell you how much it means to me that you worry for me, I really can't. But if there are dangers to being near you it's my choice to face them. I'm durable and oblivious enough to handle just about anything... I'm not going to leave you, Carver... I'm not going anywhere..."

*  *  *

Carver just shakes her head, even as she relaxes against him. With Owen dead so recently, Carver is terrified that Harry will disappear too. And if Owen was shot after some satisfying sex, what worse death would happen to Harry, who had given her mind-blowing sex?

Part of her wanted to just wrap her around Harry and the sex that he offered again, to lose herself in mindless passion, but the holes in her mattress were a silent warning that mindlessness wasn't the answer.

And what must Owen think of her now? He's dead for two days, and she's sleeping with Harry - and not even for a relationship, just for physical comfort. Carver shivers miserably, trying to calm down, but the scare from her claws had brought her down hard.

"I'm not saying that you're going to leave," Carver gulps, "I'm saying that you should. You should run far, far away from me and my crazy life and my crazy mind. Harry, statues talk to me! I'm insane, completely nuts, and everyone else seems to think that is ok! What do I have to do to convince you that I'm bad to be around, bad to have close?"

*  *  *

Some of what she's saying is right. It's true, she's potentially a severe threat to people and that whole statue thing... yea, it's not a real sign of sanity. But things are more complex than that... hearing things don’t mean no one can be near her... right? Is there ever an easy way?

Harold does his best to keep a comforting tone in his voice, "No, I mean I'm not going to run away. You know I knew all that already and I'm fine with it. For God's sake, Carver, I'm not exactly normal either and you're not running screaming from me." Well, not yet anyways.

Shifting, he tilts his head so he can see her, looking at her with the softest and accepting expression he's ever had, "You don't think I've already thought about this kind of stuff?" God that was an agonizing time. Damn, why doesn't he have a tissue for her? "Whatever fears or concerns I might have are outweighed by every reason I why want to be around you and have you close."

Convince her now, let her relax for once. He fixes his eyes on her, trying to drive home the absolute sincerity in his words, "I don't know how, but you helped lead me to a strength I never had. I should be a pile of stuttering words right now but I'm not. A year ago, I would've passed out the minute I entered the room. Why can't I give some of that back to you? I know why you're bad to be around and I don't care! It's my choice to risk myself; why won't you let me be there for you? As a friend, lover, partner, or anything? What do I have to do to convince you that I see something wonderful in you and I don't want to be away from it? That I am here for you despite, if not because, of all that crap in your life? That..." Easy there, killer. He might have a good head of steam but now isn't the time... better be sure of that one first anyways.

He sighs, starting again while never taking his eyes away, "Please don't try to scare me away or try to convince me to run, Carver... please don't make me show you why I never will..."

*  *  *

Carver buries her face in his neck and breathes in his scent, trying to use his now familiar scent to calm down. How can you tell someone to stay away when they've already decided that you're not crazy enough to chase them away? How do you convince them that they're safer away, even if they like being close?

She could say hurtful, mean things... but she can't destroy tonight, not in her mind or his heart. She could lie, say that she loved someone else... but she couldn't bear to see that pain on his face. But maybe she could make him doubt, and let him tear it down himself.

"So what did you think about this stuff?" she asks. "What did you have to rationalize to be around me?"

*  *  *

What does he think? At least she isn't sobbing right now. Harold slowly rubs a comforting hand over Carver's back, "Not a whole lot, really... I mean, I should be worried about some of the novas that hang out around you, but they're just like me and the others at work... I should be worried about getting physically hurt, but I get beaten down every day I practice... I should be worried about what you said at the aquarium, but I've never felt so empowered and confident, both with your help and on my own..."

He lets out a long breath, marveling at the sensation of her next to him even at this point, "I don't know if rationalization is the word... it's a feeling, an emotion or something. You tell me what happened to Owen could happen to me and I'm risking my life, and then some part in the back of my mind immediately pops up that I risk my life all the time for money or publicity, that maybe I should do it for an altruistic reason for once... or it reminds me that loyalty to the people you're close to and people that you trust is pointless if it falters when it's needed the most..."

God, how to think about this? "I don't know, Carver... maybe I picked something up permanent when shifting that gave me this crazy sense... All of the 'rational' reasons to do nothing just dissolve because I can't bear to sit on the sidelines and watch. Personal days, life and limb, looking like an idiot while dancing, and more: I have and will risk all of that to help you. Because it feels right, more right than anything else." He even risked a future with her by being with her tonight... oh God, why do the right things to do have to be so hard?

*  *  *

Carver shakes her head, too tired to press the issue anymore. Just leave it tonight, you can fight him about it later, she tells herself. For now though, for tonight, she'll curl up against him and pretend that it's alright, that she's not hurting him with this or killing him with her presence.

"Harry, I hope that you're right," she whispers as she moves and curls up against him. "Please don't get yourself killed. Please don't let me hurt you."

Her arms curl around him again, holding him gently. His bare skin under hers feels so good, warm even after being in the cold night air. He feels so good that her hands can't stop their light stroking, running over his skin.

*  *  *

She's dropping it... does she understand, does she believe him? Don't worry about it; he can prove it by being steadfast. Do something right for once. Harold rests his head against Carver's, relaxing his body with hers, "I won't... Somehow I think I'm doomed to live a life of embarrassments so I'm immortal until I've been thoroughly humiliated... I guess being a professional wrestler is a good start..."

This is a nice moment... when all of the pain is put aside... He turns his head enough so he can look down at her resting face. Pulling her hair away with unconscious affection, he gazes over her, looking at the soft cheekbones and the gentle curve of her neck... She's so strong but needs so much help too... Just be here for her. Be the one she can be weak with, the one she can be open with, if only for tonight.

*  *  *

Carver is awake long after Harry's gone to sleep. She's never shared a bed with anyone before and she wants to enjoy the feel of resting against him. His chest rises and falls evenly under her hand; his heart beat and the sounds of his breathing hums softly in the ear she has pressed to his chest.

She's trying to sort out how she feels about him. She cares about him, and that's all she can commit to at this time. Her fingers tighten lightly on his chest, making him mumble. If anything were to happen to him...

She can't finish the thought, and she drifts away into a troubled sleep.