Terrence honestly couldn't decide which he liked more, the utter possession he felt of her - whether he'd claimed her or she'd given herself to him, it was one in the same - or feeling utterly possessed by her. He'd wanted Ella from the very moment he'd met her, and was completely sold on being hers as soon as he realized that she would never play games or put a noose around his neck to keep him. He had willingly given her all of him six years ago, kept finding ways to give her more, and never regretted any of it, never would, ever. He had never needed to change anything about himself, never needed to sacrifice anything: even this was not a sacrifice, since he'd gained back the part of his soul that he'd lost, and gotten so much more from it in the process.
He could feel her desire for him right alongside his desire for her, thrumming inside him like a heartbeat and flowing through his veins. He was aware that it was separate from his own emotions, that it was the part of her soul he'd taken into his own body, but it felt no less real than his own emotions. Not that he had ever doubted that the pure lust she'd shown for him before was exactly what she felt, but it was even more of a rush to know it with the absolute certainty that only being able to feel exactly what she was feeling could give him. He would never, ever doubt his own instincts when it came to Ella, even though now they were probably unnecessary.
When they'd finally got all of their clothes off, he pulled her down to the floor with him, unable to reach the wall through the circle of fire around them. Just as well, because the ecstasy running through him already would probably triple in intensity once they were actually shagging, and bring him to his knees.
God, all of her skin under his hands and her hands on his, the taste of her mouth when it was on his, the feeling of her teeth on his skin when it wasn't, the feeling of her beneath him; it was all going to his head too fast, his mind couldn't even process the sensual overload. He bit through the skin of her neck, tasting blood as he fit his hips against hers and entered her, a groan from deep inside him rumbled up and vibrated back at him against her throat as his body shuddered and his eyes closed tight against the sensation.
If he hadn't just made himself immortal, he might almost have believed that he had died and gone to hell, surrounded by fire and succumbing to pleasure so great it was almost painful. They just kept getting better and better together, and yet, he wasn't sure whether he could even physically handle anything that felt better than this without exploding into flames himself. He was just a puppet to his desires now, trying his damnedest to meld himself against her and devour her whole at the same time, every part of his body longing to be pressed against hers, to feel her breaking his skin and to break hers in return. The boundary of where he ended and she began was more blurred than ever before, yet he was still trying his hardest to break it completely, and would probably keep trying until the day he died or the day he succeeded.