Each time he says her name it's like being touched. No, touched is the wrong word. It isn't intimate enough and too physical. This is different, raw with the newness, but utterly necessary because of that. Is this what everyone feels when their name is spoken? No, of course not. Names have power, yes, but whatever she is makes them so much more. How else would she find that word, that name, fit so well? M- may be what she uses for others for the moment, but Maeve is hers as much as Mab belonged to the woman she was before. New but still the same.

"Blade," she answers, so close to him it is almost a kiss. The power is there in the name he gave her, lesser than before, but she is sure that for a moment he will feel something like that stroking.

With very little effort and shift of her weight, she offers him entrance. There is so little to be afraid of in the increased intimacy provided by the slow roll of her hips that has him inside of her compared to the naming, it seems only natural. There is perhaps a mercy in the difference between the body and the mind, for the action is entirely pleasurable and without pain.

"Blade," she breathes with the next roll of her hips, going slow as he suggested. The fact they are both built so clearly to be capable of a more athletic performance is clear, but she left the need to show off in the farmhouse. They'll have more time to try to find out what else her body remembers soon enough.