"I didn't know I had this many candles," Is'haq remarked. He was laying on his back, his head near the edge, while Farah sat on the ottoman in front of him.

"You don't." she pressed along each of his trigger point in his neck and shoulders. It was slow and firm and each spot she touched, persuaded him to curl into himself. "Why are you working at a place you hate if it's doing this to you?"

"Dunno..." he gasped as she touched upon a particular sensitive spot just beneath the juncture of his neck.

"It's killing you; you know."

"I know."

She smelled good. As she bent over him, her chest so near to his face that he could almost feel her, she surrounded him with her scent. Farah always smelled good though. it was a combination of perfume, soap, and her hot oil treatment that she absolutely swore by...

She kissed the tip of his nose when she caught him looking at her before she gestured for him to turn over. She climbed up beside him before she warmed her oil between her palms.

"What is that?" he closed his eyes as she rubbed her hands up and down his spine, working his muscles as she moved along.

"Clary sage. It'll help you relax." She took her phone out of her pocket with the tips of her fingers and fiddled with it until the soft sounds of the music echoed throughout the room. "Now just shh."

"Okay..." he didn't want to argue. He couldn't. it was nice being taken care of after a while.

Farah was warm and her touch was comforting as she worked the stress out of his body and massaged his skin till it was pliable beneath her grasp. He smiled as she dropped a kiss to the crown of his head or his shoulder every now and then.

She pushed his jeans just a little further down his waist so she could reach the small of his back before she moved back up again.

He could close his eyes and sleep.

Allow himself to be carried away by the music and the gentle warmth of candles surrounding them and her soft, delicate touch. He could drift away to a place that never was... Leave and never come back.

Her hands were like silk along his sides as she pressed and kneaded into his skin and her breath was a warm tickle along his ear as she bent over him to reach his shoulder. He felt consciousness seep away as disjointed images flitted through his mind. Images that made no sense but were lost to the music that had followed him into his waking dreams. He could still feel her, but he couldn't all at the same time. The scent of her and her oils were wreaking havoc upon his stress. They were banishing it. they chased it away so far away from him that he had forgotten he had ever felt it.

He opened his eyes and turned around waiting for her to stop. But she didn't. She straddled his stomach and continued to massage his chest and shoulders, never even shying away from the deep stitches that would always be embedded in his skin.

Her mouth was close. She was teasing him- he was sure of it. But he didn't mind. He stilled her hands, grasping them in his own before he pulled her down to him. He kissed her- his lips moving in sync to the soft thrums of the guitar. "Thank you."

She smiled against him before she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. They were taking it slow... slow as the echoes around them.

Lips met and parted as hands skimmed over bared skin. They undressed each other, unhurried in their movements. He steadied her above him, grabbing hold of her hips as they lost themselves. They dragged it out... always stopping just before they reached their precipice...

Both were trying to heal the other without even knowing it.

It was sweet and slow.

Until neither could take it anymore and finally, they fell over the edge.

She was still wet with sweat as she lay down next to him, catching her breath.

"If only my husband was as good as you." She mumbled against his side.

He couldn't help the laugh that burst out of him.

She hadn't changed.

She was still chilled, foul-mouthed, direct, and sexy as she had always been...and she was still so damned flexible. She knew how to use her body and she knew how to use it to pleasure both of them.

But he couldn't stop comparing them. Farah may have had a better technique but sex with Juri would always be better. He felt it in his soul when he was with her. He felt it in her kisses that she had strewn upon his face and the soft touches along his cheek as kissed her down her body. She loved touching his face and he loved it whenever she did. Sex with Farah was sex but sex with Juri was love- and they both knew it.

Even if they had never said the words.

***

"Good news, Girlie!" Paul kissed her sloppily across her lips.

"What?" she wouldn't dare rub it away... not when he was standing right in front of her.

"Your parents made it across the border. They're in Botswana as we speak."

Her breath caught in her throat and her chest tightened. "Oh."

"You want to see?" he took out his phone and began to scroll through his messages.

She shook her head. How could he even ask her that? What would ever make him think that she would want to see those pictures?

"I think you should anyway." He grasped her cheek and turned her face towards his camera.

She wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn't.

She had to look. She had to see what had happened to them. She understood that she would be the same...

And she hated it.

"Let's celebrate," he whispered in her ear as he ripped her shirt in two and pushed it over her shoulders.

And because she knew that she had to- she bared it with a smile and called out his name when she came. Or she would be just like them.