Foster is mine.

I heard an increasingly familiar knock on the door.

"No kids or medics today, I promise," he grinned when I opened the door to let him in.

"I have recovered sufficiently from my last exposure to them," I returned, sounding a little imperious and a lot amused. I looked much better, my clothing immaculate, my hair brushed, and my glasses set straight on my face. I am looking more and more put together as the weeks go by.

"Good, because even though I didn't bring a medic with me, he sent me something to give you."

I scanned the outside of the box for information before I opened it. But rather than look baffled, recognition sparked in my eyes. "Did he give you a reason for sending this to me?"

Foster shook his head. "No. All he said was I was supposed to give it to you. And that it wasn't a bribe. No pressure."

I went silent for some time, staring at the box and then staring at Foster, I had at least eight things to say and I couldn't settle on which needed to be said first. "Come with me," I murmured after a long pause, gesturing toward my bedroom.

I had rearranged things in my bedroom since the last time Foster had been in there, because it eased the sense of entrapment I felt. The bed was on the opposite side of the room, the headboard no longer blocking one of the windows on the other wall. Both windows were open now, with no curtains or blinds obstructing the wonderful view. Instead of the dark, secluded cavern it had been a few weeks ago, it felt more open, more relaxed. Sunlight bathed the room in a warm, golden glow.

Foster let out a breath he had been holding. "Nice," he said offhandedly.

I removed my glasses, folding them and setting them on the nightstand before crawling into my bed with the usual elegance that Foster has informed me is both arousing and downright irritating because, 'no one should be able to move with that kind of easy grace'. I stretched out over the top of the covers, my head flat on the mattress rather than resting on the pillows. "Join me," I offered, it was more of a question than an invitation.

Intrigued, Foster sat next to me, resting his hand over my right side so he could feel the low vibration of my heartbeat. "What is it?" he asked, gesturing to the box.

I said nothing as I opened it, drawing out a small bottle. Understanding dawned as I unscrewed the lid, revealing an eyedropper. "Jayden has been accessing my medical records again," I said, tilting my head back and letting three drops fall into each eye, squeezing them shut when I was done.

Foster took the bottle from me and screwed the cap back on, stashing it on my nightstand next to my glasses. "Allergies?" he guessed, since generally the only reason eyedroppers were ever used was to flush allergens and other irritants from the eye.

"No," I answered. My eyes remained closed, my hand pressed to Foster's at my side. "Bad eyesight," I flinched at the burning sensation, then continued, "It can be held at bay indefinitely with proper medication."

Foster was getting used to hearing what I wasn't saying. "You haven't been out to pick up your medication in awhile," he guessed. "You can't have it delivered? I mean, that's how you get everything else you need."

"I have relied upon the delivery of the generic prescription eyeglasses because most medics insist upon seeing me to ensure the dosage remains accurate. It seems Jayden has no such qualms."

Foster had a sly grin that took over his face. "Oh, I wouldn't say that," he said, shifting his hand so his fingers interlaced with mine. "He's trying to tell you something in his completely unsubtle kind of way."

I raised an eyebrow, even though my eyes were still closed. "Indeed?"

"Mhm. It's his way of proving himself. That he knows his remedies and dosages, that he knows the value of an educated guess. He can't know exactly how much of this stuff you need, so he gave it his best shot. Is it working?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps?" He extracted his fingers from mine to trace along my jawline. "How come you haven't opened your eyes?"

"I am waiting for the stinging sensation to pass."

Foster loomed over me, I am assuming checking my face for any sign of pain. There was none to be found. "How bad does it hurt?"

"How badly," I corrected automatically. I couldn't be in that much pain if I was picking apart Foster's grammar. "The intensity is greater than I remembered. I am unsure if this is due to a fault in my memory or an alteration made due to the extended period of time since the last time I took the medication."

I didn't voice any fault with Jayden's handiwork. Foster kept smoothing his hand over my jaw, over my cheek, tracing the point of my ear. "You okay?"

I nodded, leaning into Foster's hand. My eyes cracked open, blinking several times in succession to clear the excess fluid from them. Tear tracks escaped from the corners of my eyes, but Foster knew that to be a side effect of the eye drops rather than a reaction to the pain. It didn't stop him from wiping them away, kissing the moisture from my temples.

"Foster," I murmured, pressing a hand to his chest and pushing gently, forcing Foster to part from me, he looked so...different.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked again, since I didn't generally break contact with him unless I was starting to have an attack. I nodded again, blinking a few more times before sitting up, angling myself until we were sitting face to face on the bed. My gaze swept over Foster's face, over his shoulders, surveying his clothing before returning to his face again. The intensity in my eyes made Foster squirm. "Gabriel?" he prompted.

A hand came up to explore Foster, not in the soothing, cradling way Foster had touched me, but starting at his forehead and tracing down the bridge of his nose, his lips, his jaw, until I'd mapped out his entire profile. Then I settled my fingers at Foster's temple, gazing into eyes. "You," I began to say, then shook my head and started again. "I will have to use the medication for two more days in order for it to fully restore my vision. But you are...clearer to me than you have been previously."

I gently pushed him so he was laying flat on his back.

It started with a kiss. It was brief, fleeting, not enough, but I often began that way. I leaned in just enough to press our mouths together, breaking from Foster before he could even kiss back. I stared at him for a moment, dark eyes sweeping over his face, gauging his reaction. Satisfied, I moved forward for another one. And another.

They got deeper every time our lips met, the sensations melting further and further under until I lost all sense of time. Reacquainting himself with that faintly metallic flavor of my mouth, licking it from my lips and suckling it from my tongue until I started making a soft, panting, desperate kind of noise. Foster's back pressed almost painfully against the headboard as I loomed over him and continued the slow, drowning kisses.

I found myself clinging to Foster like a lifeline. It didn't matter that we'd only recently entered into a sexual relationship, it didn't matter that I'd met Foster just a month ago. He was ingrained in me now, already a part of me even after such a relatively short span of time.

I clutched, I grabbed, I dug my nails into the soft flesh of his arms. I claimed his lips with a kind of ruthless adoration. My whole being stretched around Foster, embracing him. Foster set his teeth against the cords of my neck, muffling a groan into the bite mark he was leaving there, his fingers clenched so tightly in my black hair that anyone else would have whimpered in pain.

I whimpered, all right, or at the very least made a faint, desperate little sound. But I wasn't trying to shake Foster's hands off of me or even squirm in an attempt to make him loosen his grip. If anything, I was leaning into the grasping fingers, pressing against Foster's palms, silently asking to be held, grabbed, possessed. And despite my eager submission to such rough handling, I was cradling Foster's face in my hands like it was something precious to me. I pressed our foreheads together, closing my eyes.

He let his head drop, pressing his face against my neck and inhaling me with every breath he took. I could not possibly get any closer to him than I already was, and yet still I attempted to mold us together, to own him so thoroughly that there would never be any possibility of separation. I whispered against his shoulder, "Mine, you're mine, please say you're mine, don't ever leave, don't ever, don't ever..."

Soft, moist lips traced the curve of my ear, left a trail of kisses until they were nestled right against the shell. And then a deep voice answered me: "I am yours."