Six months have passed since Harry and Annabel decided to make Ireland their permanent home, and, so far, everything's gone well. They've taken a step back from their usual number of victims for now, only splurging twice a month to keep the feds off their trail. Harry's gotten a little antsy, but the low number of murder's their committing has started to grow on him and the urges haven't been as bad lately.

Currently, Annabel's finishing up her nightly bedtime routine in the bathroom. Tonight, Harry's decided to let her be and not interrupt her to fuck her against the shower wall. He loves interrupting her, but he doesn't want to smother her and push her away.

They've gotten used to being around each other, in the same space, and he wants to show her that she can have time to herself in the house and not just in her lively greenhouse.

She's left the door open a crack and he's trying not to stare or to look over too much as she drops her towel and starts dressing. They haven't had sex for a week because he's been worried about getting wrapped up in his blood-lust and scaring himself to death as he rushes her to the hospital to fix his mistake.

And, really, the brief pause in their sex life has been good for both of them. Harry's gotten better at ignoring his violent urges and Annabel's gotten a much needed bodily relief. Sex is great, and she loves the way they abuse each other, but it puts so much strain on nearly every part of her body and she's grateful for their current hiatus.

Annabel's brushing her teeth and Harry hums to himself to fill the silence in the room. He can hear everything she's doing, but the room itself feels empty when she's not in it.

It's a little drafty too, which could be because he's only in his boxers, or it could be because their thermostat is acting up again. He'll call someone about it tomorrow.

The lights in the bathroom are cut off and Harry happily shifts his focus to Annabel. They've never quite given their relationship a title—except during hospital visits—but they both know that they're more than just casual lovers.

Harry's lips twitch up in a smile as she steps out of the bathroom in one of his dark blue shirts that barely reaches the tops of her thighs, and the black, lacy lingerie panties that he bought for her shortly before their initial trip to Ireland. She loves that set of lingerie and he's sure that she'd live in it if she could.

The bed dips as she climbs in beside him and Harry's smile grows noticeably. Annabel makes sure that she doesn't leave any space between them and hides her face in his neck. He smells like pine needles ad he feels like home. She's never equated home with another person before, but equating it to Harry feels right, even if the threat of death will always linger with him.

"Why's it so chilly?"

Harry laughs and scoots a little closer. His hands rest on her hips and her warm breath fans his neck, relieving the small part of him that missed her presence while she was in the bathroom. Recently, he's found that he doesn't like to be away from her for too long and he's not sure how he feels about that yet.

"Think the thermostat's broken again."

His fingertips fall to the hem of her shirt—his shirt, really—and lightly graze the soft skin of her thighs.

Annabel laughs softly. She knew that he wouldn't last very long without sex, and she's honestly surprised that he managed to hold out for an entire week.

"You can fix that, right?"

Warm lips graze her shoulder and leave goosebumps in their wake, "Momentarily."

A gentle sigh escapes her as she shifts to give him more access. She'd like to say that she doesn't want to do this now—that she wants to lay off the sex for a few more days—but she wants it just as much as he does and it's hard to say no to him.

Harry pushes her shirt up and over her stomach, his hands remaining on her hips and fingertips adding a slightly heavier pressure, not quite digging into her skin, but enough to leave faint bruises.

Since he's already started off incredibly slow, Annabel knows that tonight isn't going to be like the others. It will only be the two of them and no other toys or instruments. Despite trying to keep some emotional distance between them, she's come to love this "normal" intimacy with him. Especially because it's solely reserved for her. None of the other women get to feel every inch of him as his eyes screw shut and he tries to focus on being gentle and slow rather than fast and hard and she loves that.

His lips are like fire against her skin, igniting the spark of desire within her that's lain dormant for a week. She whines softly as his hands lower and his fingertips hook into the waistband of her panties and he mumbles nearly incoherent words against her neck.

Annabel lifts her hips, urging him to just take them off already, but he's still focused on sponging kisses from her shoulder to the bottom of her jaw.

She's about to plead with him to do something when his muted voice stops her, "Love me."

He doesn't know why he's feeling so...needy all the sudden, but he does and all he wants is her.

Light eyes that often swam in the darkest water meet dark eyes that hold a thousand untold stories. "Please, love me."

Annabel lifts her hand to cup his cheek, a warm smile on her lips. "You know that I do."

She's not sure what's gotten into him tonight and she loves and hates it when he's like this. She loves it because it's part of him that only she gets to see, and she hates it because it's a part of him that she shouldn't see. They're getting far too comfortable with each other and it can only end badly.

He still won't say it back. Can't bring himself to, really, because he knows it will trigger an avalanche that will smother her and take her away forever. There won't be any survivors and he's not ready to accept that yet.

His nose brushes hers and Annabel closes her eyes as his slightly chapped lips followed. He bites them too much and the cold air dries them out because he absolutely refuses to use chapstick. Annabel wishes he would because she likes it when his lips feel like silk.

Time takes on another significance as his hands slide her underwear down her legs and lift her shirt over her head. Harry's on top of her, carefully balancing his weight so he doesn't crush her as he kisses her like she's going to fade into vapor. He's the one that asked her to love him, but he really isn't giving her the chance to.

Annabel's fingers tangle in his hair as he presses himself against her and starts moving his hips. Moments later cold hands find her breasts and she laughs.

Harry pulls away and looks at her with a slight smile, "What's so funny?"

"You asked me to love you and you're not letting me do anything except kiss you."

"What? 'm not allowed to love on you?"

She's seconds away from responding when he rolls his hips against hers again. Annabel's eyelids flutter shut as a gentle moan escapes her lips.

"Please..."

He doesn't give her the change to ask again. Annabel's surprised with how quickly everything happens. Usually, it at least takes him a moment or two to kick off his boxers at the very least, but apparently not tonight.

Everything happens rather quickly and she'd be lying if she said that she didn't like the pain mixing with the pleasure as he fucks her slowly, his eyes closed as he concentrates on his movements.

She loves it, but he did ask her first and she hasn't been on top in a while, so she pushes him over and flashes him a smile as she swivels her hips. Harry groans and his left hand settles on her hip while his right palms her breast.

This is one of his favorite positions even though he won't admit it because he likes being the one with all the power. Annabel's still smiling as she leans forward and connects their lips, the movement of her hips becoming more pronounced.

Harry's fingers sink into her skin, his short fingernails finally tearing into her and leaving small crescents in their wake.

"Slower baby...want you to love me n-not to fuck me."

Annabel complies and slows her rhythm. She places opened mouthed kisses around his shoulders and on his neck, the occasional moan slipping past when he slips up and bucks his hips a little too forcefully for lovemaking.

Harry stops her after she's left a bruise on the underside of his jaw. He wants to kiss her while he loses himself and he can't do that if she's painting with her teeth and his skin.

She practically melts in his hands as a familiar warmth swims through her veins and excites her senses. Harry nearly whines when her lips break away from his and a gasp of overwhelming pleasure follows.

His eyes fall shut a few moments later, a low groan rumbling in his throat as pleasure rockets through his body at alarming rates. Sex is always much better after they wait a while, but he didn't know that this kind of sex was absolutely heavenly after some time has passed.

Annabel removes herself and returns to his side to cuddle him like she was earlier. A smile presses against his damp skin and he returns it as he shifts so they fit together without so much space or weird angles between them.

Silence falls quickly and the sound of Harry's breathing is lulling Annabel to sleep. He's been thinking about something for a few days and he's decided that he wants to tell her now.

"I had a dream about you the other night."

"Hmm."

He was expecting more of an answer and now he's a little nervous to continue. It takes a moment for him to realize that she was probably half asleep when he made up his mind. She's not very responsive when she's close to sleep, but he still wants to tell her anyway.

"This one was different. I didn't kill you. Actually, it was the complete opposite. We had a nice house somewhere that I couldn't recognize and...and we had a baby. I can't remember if it was a boy or a girl, but I do remember that I loved that baby more than I ever thought I could love anything...more than I thought I could love you. This...lull we've had...it's helped dissolve the urges...do you...do you think that'll ever be possible? Us having a baby?"

Annabel shifts in his hold so she can face him. There's a ghost of a smile on her lips and her eyes look a little glossy, but it could be because she just yawned a moment ago.

"Harry...I know this is all very different for you—it's different for me too—but we aren't like normal couples. I love the idea of having a little baby with you in the future, that kid would be the cutest thing ever, but I don't think that's where we're headed. You can't control your urges and even if you can stop, there's always a chance that you'll relapse on accident, Harry. One day, you're going to kill me and it sucks because we've built up this relationship so much and because we were stupid and ended up falling in love, but it's going to happen. We won't have a happy ending and I can't get your hopes up to watch that light behind your eyes fade."

Harry's frowning before she makes it halfway through her answer. He hates how she always thinks like that—always looking for the end without much thought of anything else.

"Why do you think like that?"

The look in her eyes nearly kills him, "I have to, so I won't be afraid."