Craving the Fire, We Started

They stayed wrapped in silence for nearly an hour, tangled together, the world beyond the barn held at bay. Renee’s head rested against Jake’s chest, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heart. It calmed her. It always had. Eventually, the quiet began to shift—not from discomfort, but the kind that follows deep release. They dressed slowly, no rush, no tension. Just peace. Jake turned toward the table to grab his shirt, his back momentarily to her. That’s when she saw them—again.
The scars.
They carved across his shoulder blades like cruel reminders. She had asked once, almost two years ago, in a moment of curiosity. He hadn’t answered. She hadn’t pushed. But now, everything was different. She was different. They were different. Renee stepped forward slowly, her hand hovering just over the marks before gently resting on one. “Jake…” she whispered. “Can I ask you something?” He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just waited. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she added quickly. "But your back?”

He exhaled, long and low, and turned slightly so she could see. “You remember when I disappeared for that year?” he asked quietly. She nodded, already feeling her throat tighten. “After… after Leo hospitalized me?” Jake’s eyes locked on hers, something heavy settling in. “Yeah. After that.”
A long pause stretched between them before he continued, voice rough. “After I confronted him in the hospital," Jake looked down, rubbing the back of his neck as if remembering it physically still hurt. “He didn’t take that well. Had me jumped. Cornered me one night after work. I didn’t stand a chance.” Her hand flew to her mouth.
Renee stepped in front of him, gently touching one of the scars again, softer this time “He did this to you… because of me.” Jake shook his head. “No. He did it because he was a coward. A monster. And because I loved you enough to stand between him and you, no matter what it cost me.” Tears filled her eyes, hot and unrelenting.
“I had to disappear for a while. I was scared I’d make things worse for you.”
“I hated myself every day for not being there. But Icame back because I wanted him to know—I meant it. That if he touched you again, I’d bury him.” They stood there, barely breathing, the weight of that year pressing in around them. “I’m so sorry,” Renee finally said, her voice trembling. “You should’ve told me.” Jake reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips. “Maybe. But the scars aren’t just reminders of him. They’re reminders that I would’ve done anything to protect you. Even if it meant bleeding for it.”

Renee leaned forward, resting against his chest. Her eyes swelling, but he didn’t move. Just wrapped his arms around her and held her through it. Jake’s hand found Renee’s jaw, his thumb grazing her lip as he tilted her face toward his. The pain in his eyes faded, replaced with something deeper—something that burned and soothed all at once. “I never wanted you to know,” he whispered. Renee didn’t speak. She nodded, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, overwhelmed by the weight of his truth. Then his lips brushed hers again, slow and reverent, and that was when the rush hit her. A different kind of ache, a longing that had nothing to do with grief and everything to do with love—desperate, raw, and alive.

She climbed onto his lap, her knees bracing his hips, her fingers sliding along his shoulders, grounding herself. His hands steadied her waist, but he didn’t guide—he let her come to him. Their mouths met in a kiss that trembled between comfort and desire. It deepened slowly, like a memory trying to come back to life. Then she felt it—his breath caught, his body responding beneath her in a way that made her pulse thrum in her ears.

Renee broke the kiss, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. Her hand slid down between them, undoing his belt with slow purpose, her eyes never leaving his. “Again?” she whispered, barely above a breath. Jake exhaled through his nose, nodding once, jaw tight with restraint. “You drive me insane,” he murmured.
Her fingers toyed with the edge of his waistband, slow and gentle. She wasn’t rushing this. This wasn’t about dominance or claiming—it was worship. She leaned down, pressing kisses along his jaw, her hair spilling over his chest, whispering things only he would ever hear. And then, for the first time, she let herself explore him that way—with reverence, with confidence, and with something like awe.

Jake’s hand slid into her hair, not pulling, just holding—anchored by the intensity of the moment. His breaths came faster, sharp and uneven, not from lust alone but from the way she made him feel: seen, loved, wanted without condition. When she pulled back, his hand moved to her cheek again, gently lifting her face until their eyes met. “I love you,” she said, voice shaking. He swallowed, brushing his thumb across her lower lip, and answered like it was the only truth he had left. “I’ll never stop.” She smiled, leaning back down to kiss his hard member once more. She swallowed him, moving her head up and down.
Renee lingered in that vulnerable space, watching the way Jake’s chest rose and fell, the tension building in his body like a tightly wound wire. Every movement she made was slow, deliberate. Her lips, her touch—every part of her was a whisper against him, a silent promise that this was hers to give and his to feel.

Jake’s fingers threaded gently through her hair, not guiding, just resting there like he was grounding himself. His breath hitched again, a low groan escaping his throat as she took him deeper, her rhythm steady and reverent. He tilted his head back against the beam behind him, one hand fisting beside him, the other still in her hair. “Renee…” he whispered, voice hoarse, warning or plea—it didn’t matter. She understood. And still, she didn’t stop.

She wanted to see him fall apart. But before he could lose himself completely, he tugged gently on her arm, urging her up toward him. “Come here,” he breathed, his eyes glazed with heat and emotion. “I want to be inside you when I—” His voice cracked, and he didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
She climbed into his lap slowly, straddling him with a fluid grace that made the breath catch in his throat all over again. He guided her with a reverence that bordered on worship, both of them trembling as she sank down onto him, letting out a soft, broken moan as their bodies met. Jake buried his face in her neck as she began to move—rolling her hips slowly, his hands gripping her waist, not controlling her, just holding on. His breath stuttered, warm against her throat, his mouth pressing kisses into her skin, jaw clenched as he tried to hold on.

But he couldn’t—not for long. And when he gave in, it was with a gasp of her name and a fierce, almost desperate pull against her hips as he came inside her, holding her there like she was the only thing keeping him from unraveling completely. When it passed, he wrapped his arms around her, tight and trembling, as though he’d just survived a storm he’d been waiting to face for years. “I needed that,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “I know,” she said, curling into him. “Me too.”