His stomach churns. His hands shake. His heart races. What the hell is wrong with him? Is this what a panic attack feels like? Or maybe a stroke. Or a brain aneurysm. He casts about for some medical malady to explain his current state, hoping to avoid acknowledging that he’s just acting like a maniac.

Of course he had known he would see them together eventually. They had been together for ten years, for god’s sake. Since they were teenagers. And it was his sister’s wedding, it made sense that she would be invited. She had known Eileen since she was just a kid in braces. And the morning she had received the invitation in the mail, she had asked him to come, had teased him and told him he should try to catch the bouquet, then kissed him and smiled and looked a little shy.

There was nothing wrong with the two of them dancing together. It was a wedding. People danced. Especially people who had known each other for ten years. And had lived together. And been engaged.

He wasn’t mad. He couldn’t expect her to never speak to Roy. He couldn’t ask her to cut herself off from her whole life before him. He didn’t even have a reason to worry. He knew she loved him. She had told him so that morning, whispered it in his ear while he was still inside of her but before they were fully awake.

But still. They had danced and she had on that brown dress and Roy had said something and she had laughed and his heart started to beat so fast he thought he might actually have a heart attack.

His tie is strangling him. He loosens it with sudden, jerky movements, limbs foreign and awkward. He returns his hands to the steering wheel and forces himself to watch the road.

“Jim?” Her voice is tentative. She’s worried. Of course she’s worried. He’s acting like the creature from the black lagoon. He knows she thinks he’s mad, and it’s killing him, but he can’t remember how to even begin to act normal.

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?”

“Um, yes. Yeah. Just, you know, uh, it’s hot.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her lick her lips, stare at her lap and finger the fabric of her dress. Shit. Shit shit shit. God. Pull it together. What the hell is wrong with you?

Finally they’re at her place. He parks the car and gets out, nearly bisecting himself with the seatbelt he forgot to unbuckle. He takes a few deep breaths. Ok, just chill out. There is absolutely nothing wrong here. Except you. Stop being insane.

He follows her to the front door, waiting while she unlocks it, darting glances at him over her shoulder. She opens it and steps through. She holds it as he follows, closing it behind him with a soft click. She stands with her hand still on the doorknob. Her eyes meet his.

“Jim, I’m sor—“

No. No no. He doesn’t want her to be sorry. He takes a long stride forward until his body is against hers, momentum bringing her back to the door. Then one hand is sliding around her waist and the other into her hair and his lips are on hers before he even realizes what he was going to do. The plan is still unclear but then she’s kissing him back and her hands are in his hair and she moans, and it doesn’t matter anymore.

The hand in her hair cups the back of her head and his thumb strokes her jaw as he deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue against hers. His other hand splays across her back, roaming up and down before cupping her ass and pulling her body closer to his. Her hands scramble to untuck his shirt so she can slide her hands up the bare skin of his back. She whimpers. He wants to hear more.

His lips leave her mouth to trail along her jaw line, up to her ear. His tongue traces the outer edge, then briefly dips inside. She jerks against him and her breathing catches.

He reaches behind her to unzip her dress, pulling it down to her waist. His hand slides up her torso to cup her breast through her bra, thumb sliding across her nipple as he places hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

He strokes her nipple again with his thumb, more firmly this time, and her back arches. He shifts downward, pushing aside the fabric cup of her bra, then her nipple is in his mouth, and the light pressure of his teeth is enough to make her cry out.

He slides his hand under the skirt of her dress, up her leg until he reaches her panties. They’re wet, and he pushes them aside to slide one finger inside her as his mouth continues on her nipple.

Her hips buck against him. He straightens and pulls her dress the rest of the way down, letting it fall to the floor. Her panties follow. Just as quickly, he drops to his knees and hooks her leg over his shoulder.

Without preamble, his tongue is on her and his fingers are inside of her and her hips rock toward him, his name nearly incoherent as it comes from her mouth. He wants to hear her scream.

He goes straight for what he knows she likes best. He curls his fingers toward him as he slides them in and out of her, his tongue moves in quick, light circles around her clit. It doesn’t take long. Soon her hips are rocking continuously against him, her breath is coming in near-sobs and her hand scramble for purchase against the door, his hair, anywhere.

He stands up. She stares at him, making a wordless sound of frustration. Her eyes flick downward as she sees him start to unbuckle his belt, and then she’s helping him undress, hands shaking and frantic on his shirt buttons. He drops his pants, and then his boxers. She wraps her hand around the length of him, rubbing her thumb across the tip. He gasps, but interrupts her by picking her up and setting her down on the end table a few feet away.

He hooks her legs around his waist. He’s desperate to be inside her, but he stops, his tip just barely feeling her where she’s slick and hot and wet. He reaches up and strokes her with his thumb with feather-light touches, not quite reaching her clit.

She clutches at him, trying to pull him closer, but he holds back. “Jim, please…” she gasps.

He looks into her eyes. Hers are dilated and hazy. His voice is rough. “Tell me you want me.”

Her words come in one breathless string. “God, Jim, I want you, I need you, I love you, please.”

Then he’s inside her with one deep thrust as he strokes his thumb firmly over her clit and then she does scream. Her nails dig into his back as he thrusts into her in long, hard strokes.

It’s not long before he can feel her starting to come. He brings his mouth to her ear. “Say my name.”

And then she’s clenching around him and her hands are fisting in his hair and he thinks she might actually be pulling some of it out but he doesn’t care. “Jim, oh god, don’t stop, oh Jim, yes.”

Then he’s coming, hard, and her legs are wrapped around him and his fingers dig into her hips and her hands are in his hair and she’s whispering his name one last time into his ear. The thrusts into her once, twice, three more uncontrolled times before growing still.

It seems like a long time before either of them move. But eventually he eases her back down to her feet, one arm wrapped around the small of her back, the other leaning against the wall behind her. He lets his forehead drop to the crook of her neck, now damp with sweat. Her breath comes in fast puffs against the nape of his neck.

“Jesus… Jim,” she manages after a moment.

He can feel his face flushing. Wow. Yeah, talk about insane. He replays the scene in his mind. Oh god. Had he really said that? He wonders briefly if he could avoid her gaze forever.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles against her neck.

“No, no. Just, actually, whenever you want to do that is… totally fine.” She sounds dazed.

He’s quiet for a long moment. His voice is muffled and tentative. “Break room at lunch?”

“Actually, just… you know what? Yeah, sure.” Another silence falls.

“Jim.” She pulls back and waits until he lifts his eyes to meet her own. “You know how much I love you, right?”

He sighs and leans his forehead against hers. “Tell me again.”

She slides her fingers into his hair. Her voice drops to a whisper. “So much, so much. More than I thought I could love anyone.” She kisses him, her lips barely touching his.

“I’m sorry. I just…” He sighs again and closes his eyes. His voice is barely audible. “Sometimes I just remember. Things. The way they used to be.”

“I know. Me too.” Her arms slide down his shoulders, and she takes his hand in hers. “But, you’re stuck with me. Sorry about that.” She squeezes his hand, then leans against him for a moment before straightening. She swings their clasped hands. “What do you say we spend the rest of the day on that couch making fun of the cheesiest movies basic cable has to offer?”

He takes a deep breath, then leans forward to plant a kiss in her hair, pausing a moment to smell her shampoo. He straightens, and gives her a small smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”