Gloomi Bear

the apartment was quiet, it was late and the city lights bled softy between the curtains, all while the hum of traffic was somewhere far below.

you were both in bed. well, technically, bakugo was on top of you--thankfully not too heavy, just close. one arm was around your waist, the other was tucked under your back, all while his face was buried in the crook of your neck. his breath was warm against your skin and you could only assume his eyes were closed, he was relaxed in such a way that made it seem like he had no intention of moving for the next decade. these were the nights you loved, when he was free from patrol and all his hero duties.

it was rare to have this kind of stillness and you were sure many, many people would be baffled that the number five, pro-hero dynamight could exist like this.

"you're warm," he muttered into your neck, voice rough and sleepy from the long day.

you smiled while your fingers brushed lazily through his untamed hair.

and, if it was even possible, he pressed closer.

it was such a sweet, simple moment that you almost felt bad about the phone that you held above him. it had been recording for a few seconds now.

it was just for a trend mina had shown you earlier (and, of course, you have absolutely no intention of sharing it to anyone), but it was something stupidly cute to torture him with.

"he doesn't know when you're recording." she'd said. "that's the whole point."

you laughed lightly, "seems kind of mean."

well, bakugo definitely didn't know.

he shifted slightly and lovingly tightened his hold on you. then, his voiced dropped a little and he drawled out the words, "don't move."

"i'm not moving," you whispered in return, amused.

"good."

there was a pause. you almost didn't want him to see the camera and ruin the moment.

his hand flexed slightly at your waist as if he was checking that the moment was real, that you were real.

"stay here." he mumbled into your neck.

"you're clingy." you teased gently. even after all this time, he still gave you butterflies.

"shut up." he said, though there was no bite to it, only comfort.

his head sank deeper into your neck again and, for a moment, you thought he'd fallen asleep like that. his breath was so quiet and steady and the weight of him felt so familiar now, it made your heart ache a little.

then he murmured a little absentmindedly, "love you.." it was so soft that you almost missed it. your fingers paused in his hair, all the while the other hand kept the phone steady.

you had a small, more-than-content smile. "yeah, i know."

he hummed like that answer satisfied him.

then, bakugo shifted his head upward a little and pressed a soft kiss to your jaw.

that's when his sleepy, crimson eyes caught the dim light from the corner of his eye.

"what is that..." he muttered sleepily.

you stared at the ceiling when he shifted his head slightly, just enough to look up... just enough to see your phone... still recording.

the second bakugo fully registered what he was seeing, his eyes locked onto the camera and he jolted.

honestly, jolted is a bit of an understatement. the blond practically jumped back off of you so fast that the blanket shifted, then his hand snapped up instinctively like he was about to detonate the room out of pure reflex.

"WHAT THE HELL-"

he was already halfway from falling off the bed, glaring up at the phone then back to you like you had betrayed him more than anybody ever had.

you could already hear denki's stupid voice saying, "good one y/n, it could get, like, twelve million views."

"the hell is this!?"

you wheezed a little, "it's just a trend-"

"A TREND?"

"yes!"

"I'LL CREMATE YOU." at that, you lost it. you fell back onto your pillow and laughed, all the while he just sat there with messy hair and looking at your phone like it was the worst villain he'd come across. "DELETE IT NOW."

"i was gonna-" you tried to speak, still laughing, "i was literally gonna-"

"I'M NOT BEING RECORDED IN MY OWN DAMN HOUSE." he barked out and turned his head away, acting like he could escape embarrassment that way.

from somewhere deep in your laughter, you managed to speak, "you were being cute."

at that, he whipped his head back. "DON'T CALL IT THAT!"

"you're ashamed of love, katsu." you teased as your hand went out to pull him back into bed, the other hand putting your phone down.

despite his yelling, he leaned into your touch without fight. though before he could lay down, he leaned across you and grabbed your phone and threw it onto his side of the bed. you had to restrain yourself from calling your boyfriend dramatic.

then, he grabbed the blanket and yanked it up over the both of you. it looked like he was trying to erase the entire incident from reality.

"...whoever gave you this idea is dead." he muttered.

you were still smiling into his shoulder when he finally settled back down. he was a little grumpy and flushed, refusing to look directly at you now. but his hand still found your waist again anyway.

i just want to say how thankful i am for all the likes, comments, and reblogs. i just started this blog and it truly is so exciting and means a lot! also, if you send in a request, i got it but it might just take me a moment! (i'm graduating in 3 weeks and then i'm all yours) <3

tag list : @paleepeaches (lmk if you'd like to be added!)

The party was on full swing, people were laughing, dancing and drinking alcohol. Half of the crowd was friend groups enjoying the Saturday evening, others were teenagers enjoying their youth and some others were drinking with their friends and vibing to the music.

I was sat across Damiano's lap, who was talking and laughing with Thomas. His arm was securely wrapped around my waist and I had allowed my head to fall against his chest. I wasn't a fan of social activities but I agreed to come to this party because it was dedicated to the band's success.

“I'm going to get drinks,” Thomas announced, looking at us and Ethan. Victoria was partying somewhere inside the club. “Do you want something?”

“Mine's still full,” Damiano said after checking his glass. he glanced at my face, the club lights illuminating his face. “You sure you don't want anything?”

“No, I'm done for the night,” I replied, reaching to stroke his face. “Don't you remembered the last time I got drunk?”

Damiano laughed, his arm tightening around my waist, “The time you started singing Zitti E Buoni in the middle of the street while dancing around?”

“It could have been worse,” I laughed along with him. “Thank god, you saved me from running to the taxi driver and beg him to give me a ride to New York because this is where my dream job is. I have no idea what had gotten into me.”

“Well, at times of drunkenness, life always becomes different,” Damiano nodded. “Oh, here they come.”

Thomas got back with his and Ethan's drink, Victoria and one boy following behind. It was probably a new friend she had met earlier because I had never seen him again. Soon enough, more people joined and the couches around us were full and I was getting stressed.

“Did you get exhausted because of dancing and decided to join us?” Ethan teased, handing Victoria her glass after she fixed her bralette.

“Came for a drink and will be leaving again,” Vic replied, taking a sip of her freshly made drink. “Y/n, do you wanna come with us later?”

The newcomers attention turned to me, acknowledging me sitting on Damiano's lap. i suddenly felt awfully uncomfortable, not liking the sudden attention that I was receiving from everyone.

“Oh, you must be y/n, the girlfriend?” a girl said and I nodded, my shoe tapping against the wooden floor. “Are you enjoying the night?”

“Oh yeah, lots,” I replied, shifting uncomfortably on Damiano's lap. What was I supposed to say now? “It's a really nice club.”

“Will y'all be on the concert tomorrow?” Damiano immediately changed the topic, withdrawing the attention from me. i squeezed his arm, silently thanking him for changing the conversation topic.

Damiano's arm tightened around my waist and he pressed a loud kiss on my hair, rubbing my back with the other hand. “Are you okay, my love?”

“Yeah,” I replied, laying my head against his shoulder and sighing softly. “Do you not want to go with Vic and the others later? I don't wanna stop you from enjoying the night.”

“No, baby, it's boring anyways, I'm better off with you,” he replied. “I actually say we should leave soon and go to somewhere calmer and nicer.”

“Damiano, it's a celebration for you and your friends,” I told him, glancing at him. “Just because I have social anxiety and can't get in a conversation properly, it doesn't mean you shouldn't have fun.”

Sometimes, I didn't even know how he could stand being in a relationship with a dull person like me.

My relationship with Damiano started after Eurovision.

I was working as an assistant to the makeup artist. I was Italian, constantly moving around with small jobs and I was lucky enough to end up in the contest.

I hadn't met Damiano till the final, instead I had met his best friend Ethan. He was really kind and friendly, and I thought how nice it'd be to be in a friend group with people like him. I had my best friend, Emilia, and till now I hadn't thought of having more friends. I wasn't a social person.

In fact, I couldn't stand talking to people a lot. You would ask me, why are you working as an assistant where you have to talk with people every day and half of the people are rude? I wanted to save money and there weren't many available jobs that didn't require being social and I didn't want to end up broke because of a chemical reaction in my head that didn't allow me to act normally around people.

Right after the final, I was planning to leave immediately for Italy again to assist my mother - a caretaker - with the senior citizen she was assisting. I bumped on Damiano backstage while packing my bags.

“Are you one of the make up assistants?” he asked me, surprising me. He was out of breath, smudged makeup and a face full of happiness and ecstacy.

“Oh, yeah,” I nodded, hurriedly throwing product after product on the small bag. “I'm y/n. It's nice to meet you.”

I was afraid about how to act. I was shy around people and meeting this handsome, intimating man made me even more shy.

I don't even remember how it went, it started from him learning that I lived in Rome too and then we went out on a date. It always took me sometime to warm up to someone but Damiano made me feel safe. I liked the feeling of him being close to me and the protection he radiated.

We started dating two months later. I never mentioned to him about my social insecurities and he never asked me anything. What mattered was that I gave him all my love and he made me feel protected and loved.

And right now, on the club, even if I felt weird and uncomfortable with so many people around me, he made me feel safe and protected. That even if I embarrassed myself, Damiano would be by my side and wouldn't judge me, tease me or roll his eyes at me. He made me feel like someone could accept me for how I am and not get bored of me because I'm no fun.

“Are you and Damiano dating for a long time?” one other asked politely, the conversation turning back to me. It was obvious that they were being kind to me and I hated how I was too afraid to continue conversing with them smoothly.

“Oh yeah, around ten months now,” I nodded, tightening my hand on Damiano's, my leg bouncing up and down. He put his hand over my knee, gently pressing it. I slowly relaxed it and he rubbed the exposed skin. “You know, we met after Eurovision and became close.”

“Relax, baby,” Damiano whispered, his hand still on my knee. “Breathe for me.”

His lips pressed against my forehead and nose, instantly making me smile. He pulled my head close to his chest and whispered, “I'm here, alright? Remember that.”

“Thank you Damiano,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

“Hey, I insist we should leave.”

“Damiano—”

“You know parties are not my favourite way to spend a night,” he said and sat up, still holding me. “Look, I have an idea.”

“Go home and sleep like we're eighty years old?”

“No,” he laughed. “What if we go out for gelato and a drink and then go for a walk in the park? It'll be far better than just dancing and chit chatting with people.”

“Are you sure?” I asked worriedly, still thinking he might be forcing himself to act in a way he does not want to. “Like, one hundred percent sure?”

“Don't overthinking it, baby,” he said, leaving a kiss against my lips. He gently eased me off his lap and got up. “Let's say goodnight to the others and go.”

After hugging and saying goodbye to Ethan, Thomas and Victoria and promising Victoria that we'd meet tomorrow with Janis before the concert to get ready, we left the club.

I allowed myself to let out a big breath and lean against Damiano's shoulder, “So, where are we going?”

“Do you remember that shop we went on our second date?” Damiano asked, holding my hand as we crossed down the street.

“Oh, you mean that nice, little shop down the street near your studio?”

“Yep,” he nodded. “Don't you remember how good their gelato is? Let's go down there.”

We walked down the street, crossing our arms together as we joked and giggled about whatever thing that came to our mind. I had leaned my head against his shoulder that was covered by his coat and he leaned his against the top of my head, dropping a kiss.

The shop was brightly lit, everything was out on display and a woman was sitting behind the counter. I didn't have trouble ordering but it still felt like I was being judged, it still felt like I was going to die sometimes and it still felt like I would embarrass myself any moment now.

“The usual?” he whispered in my ear and I nodded.

Damiano ordered for the both of us and once again, I leaned to hug him, him kissing my forehead gently.

Once we had received our orders and paid for them, we walked outside to the chilly night and sat on the park. We ate the tasty gelato, fed each other playfully and talked and talked and laughed till it was late and we were receiving strange glances from the pedestrians.

“You're my soulmate, you know,” I told him. “The universe had us meet because we'd have a great impact on each other's life. Thank you for staying with me Damiano.”

The kiss I received afterwards was so sweet, passionate and loving, that I was falling in love all over again.

"Woman! Stop your squirming" He growled not even needing to turn as he stoked the fire.

He'd left to you alone on the bedroll for a mere 60 seconds to add more logs to the fire and there's was a whimper, curse and shuffle. When the shuffling didn't stop he hissed and snapped his head back only to find his prized female naked and soiled wearing his cum like some form of war paint across her skin.

Geralt sighed and rolled his eyes before getting up and trudging towards his woman who had managed to roll over and was trying to wriggle away from the mess you'd landed yourself in. You whined, yelping around the fabric he'd had to stuff in your mouth to keep you quiet and not attract any beasts. The last thing he needed was to try and find his sword kill something with his cock swaying in the wind.

He grunted and stood over his catch making his woman, black eyes fixed on the bouncing ass. The bouncing ass he'd not yet got around to enjoying tonight. He'd wanted to tease and defile you in other ways first. All his effort had been put into giving you what you'd asked for. The fucking of a lifetime you'd begged and pleaded and bratted demanding he treat you to your fantasy and 'juice up' on potions and fucked you like the whispers of animalistic beastly witchers pinning down their conquests and ploughing them into the dirt ravaging them.

And thats exactly what he'd been doing... he paused and placed a large hot palm to your back, grinning when his prey jolted and squealed.

@/lizziedwire: Y/n is so cute with her baby bump🥺 The way her hand is just constantly touching on it and the way she smiles at her tummy just makes me wanna cry my eyes out. She’s so precious

> @/marvelledsire: let’s talk about her pregnancy glow though?? Like don’t get me wrong the woman was already stunning before, but even i’m findin her irresistible to look at

@/livingonntheflatearth: Did anyone notice in the video when Henry was reading the instruction manual to the crib, and his other hand was just rubbing Y/n's stomach mindlessly. I just know he positioned her rocking chair right there for that exact reason. But also I can’t blame her if she just wanted to watch him up close 🤪

—-

@/Cavillsfangirl00: Their nursery is so cutely decorated, all the pastel stuffies and toys on the shelves; DONT GET ME STARTED ON THE SUPERHERO BABY BOOKS THEY HAVE. I’m volunteering to be reincarnated as their baby

> @/leavemealonepls: Watching Henry in a vest top and shorts trying to build a crib, is something we didn’t know we needed. Thank you Y/n for posting this😭😭

—

@/Tacosandcheese: Henry leaning his head up like a kid to ask Y/n for a kiss as a reward gets me all giggly every time. Who knew a man needed a kiss after every hammer hit☠️

> @/clarkentwho: Y/n looks so done with him every time he put his head up for that😭 but did you see how she always ended up smiling into their kiss?! I’m sleeping on the highway tonight for real

—

@/369girlswannadrink: My favourite part of this video has to be when Henry accidentally dropped a bit of wood too loud and instantly turned around to Y/n, scared that he had “woken the weep chap”

> @/presidentofyourheart: Mine was when he finished the crib and him and Y/n started placing the mattress in it, you could see them both tearing up when they were hugging that dog stuffed toy they had😩

>> @/Saneiofanhere: How about when Y/n was sat eating baby sausages and every few seconds Henry would open his mouth and she’d try to aim one into it, then at one point she just got grouchy cause she ran out and he went and got her more. Sausage queen

—

@/noobmasterer: Y/n is absolutely stunning in her maternity dress, i’m actually in awe, what a goddess

> @/henrycavill: yeah imagine how I feel waking up to her everyday

—

@/beyoncesbackupdancer: Yall remember when they just revealed their pregnancy, AND HENRY CHANGED ALL HIS BIOS TO SAY “Future dad” This man is so extra i love it

> @/jellybaby: Can we blame him though? Mans has waited ages for a woman like her and waited even more for his own family. He deserves it sm!!

—-

@/Iminlove: I nearly cried when the baby kicked Y/n’s stomach in the video and Henry dropped everything to go to her side to soothe the baby, with gentle kisses and cuddles😭😭

—

@/princesspopper: No lie I saw them buying the crib in ikea, and Henry was complaining wondering why the baby couldn’t sleep with them☠️☠️ Y/n had to hit him up the head and remind him that he can’t squish the poor thing

> @/princesspopper: THEN Y/n hugged him but she couldn’t cause of her stomach so he went around and hugged her from behind. I’m jealous can you tell

—

@/britishenthusiast: Omg the plaster cast of Y/n's bump in the background is so fricking cute, I heard that Henry did it himself at home.

—

@/bringitonsatan: I hate how there’s still fans hating on this beautiful family, CANT YOU SEE THEYRE LITERAL PERFECTION

> @/emmalovescake: omg yeah i know right, you can clearly see how much love they have for each other just by their eyes, I can’t imagine what they’re going to be like when their baby is here

—

@/cheesytoes: Ok but Y/n ogling Henry while he’s building the crib is a mood, Henry ogling Y/n while she’s sorting out the toys is also a mood. I’m in love with them both

—

@/Y/ncavillstan1: I can’t wait for vids of Y/n with their baby and singing them to sleep😭 I need to see it.

> @angelfeeder: I know AND I CAN ALREADY SEE THE BABY IN RUGBY GEAR CUS OF HENRY OMG

—

@/Y/nCavill: @/HenryCavill you purposely put the bar of this crib too high, I can’t get out of it

> @/Henrycavill: I told you not to get in it pet, luckily it’s big enough for a feckn bear

>> @/Y/nCavill: Please baby i’m gonna piss myself, I just wanted to check if it was comfortable enough for our baby boo 🥺

>>> @/HenryCavill: Alright babs i’m coming up now

>>>> @/supermanreds: stop it. The cuteness is too much.

———-

@/Trishathelion: Okay but I love how their wedding was tangled theme, the flowers in her hair and the veil with the imprint of a golden sun 😭 ps: heard Y/n and Henry discussing babies but ya didn’t hear it from me

> @/marvelsmarvel: WHERE DID YOU HEAR IT THOUGH?!

>> @/evanscavill: HENRY SAID IT IN AN INTERVIEW AFTER THE WEDDING LOLOL, YOU CAN FIND IT ON YOUTUBE

-

@/crissywakeup: No one gonna mention how Y/n lit fell asleep on Henry’s shoulder during the reception in the wedding movie they released. Henry just get stroking her hair and kissing her forehead AND MISS GIRL WAS LITERALLY SMILING IN HER SLEEP. The highway seems nice tonight

-

@/Simbaawo: How about in the movie when Y/n couldn’t be bothered to get her food from the buffet so Henry went and got her a plate first before he got his own♥️♥️

> @/draculauraaa: Ok but my favourite part was when he had to kneel down and get her garter from under her skirt in front of their families, and their reaction when he pulled it off with his teeth ☠️☠️

>> @/eddiemuns: Let’s not forget the man we’re talking about here, we have heard costars of Henry say they saw poor Y/n limping about set so many times :3

-

@/chimmy101: When Y/n’s nephew was sitting on her lap and Henry was spoon feeding him cake, they so looked like a cute little family

> @/christ1na: Or when the little guy fell asleep on Henry’s shoulder that he didn’t move for a good 20 minutes before the mum came and got him

-

@/Henrysnumberuno: Henry had a piece of purple fabric in his breast pocket and I was wondering what it was??

> @/pinkpaintednail: It’s a piece of the scrubs Y/n wore when she first graduated med school, Henry and her had been dating for around a year at that point. He was so proud of her and he still is ♥️

-

@/donkeyswamp: Did anyone else notice one hour into the film, where Henry snuck in a packet of biscuits and him and Y/n were sneaking them into their mouths trying not to laugh. I want that. HE EVEN GAVE HER THE LAST COOKIE.

-

@/Rainbowpuffers: I saw Y/n a few days ago after the release of the movie and let me just say, that woman is glowing. She was out buying flowers and she looked so beautiful, Henry i’m jealous

-

@/HenryCavill: I’m glad you all enjoyed our wedding movie! Y/n and I are now well on our way to our honeymoon destination to do some extra loving ♥️

> @Y/nCavill: It’s ok hun, they know you mean sexy time

>> @/visionsalive: OMG SHE CHANGED HER USER TO CAVILL AND OMG THEYRE SO WINEUDJD

-

@/DailyNews: Trending! Henry Cavill and Y/n seen getting intimate on Hawaii beach, is it the start of a Cavill expansion?!

-

@/Lisatrure: I’m from Hawaii and I think I just saw Henry and Y/n on the beach, mans hands were not trying to hide his grip on her ass. Don’t even get me started on the way he was kissing all over her too😭😭

> @/fairyglowpic: I SAW THEM TOO!! HENRY HAS A NEW TATTOO ON HIS CHEST AND ITS OF Y/NS INITIALS. I AM GONNA CRY THEYRE SO CUTE AND LOVING

>> @/33userjwuje: I swear Y/n has a new tattoo too? It’s on her upper thigh and you can see it in her bikini post on insta, it says “H.C”

-

@/spanishmission: In the reflection of Y/n’s sunglasses on her insta post, you can literally see Henry’s face going like this 😮 when she poses with her ass facing the camera

> @/poppylong: MANS WAS CAUGHT LACKIN

IN 4K

-

@/Twistedknots: My mum works with Dr Y/n in the hospital and apparently Henry still comes everyday to sit and eat lunch with her in their staff room. He brings her homemade stuff like pasta and even bring her an extra jacket because it gets colder on the wards at night

-

@/swiftie2836: When Y/n started walking down the aisle and Henry started crying 😭😭😭 Bro got me near in tears too with the way he was looking at her with so much love. HE DID NOT HESITATE TO KISS HER BEFORE HE WAS EVEN ALLOWED TOO GODDAMN

-

> @/zizitobe: DURING THE GAME WHERE THEY HAD TO HOLD A SHOE UP FOR THE ANSWER, AND BOTH OF THEM SAID Y/N WAS THE BOSS🫣🫣 ALSO I DID NOT KNOW HENRY WAS THE FIRST ONE TO SAY I LOVE YOU IN THEIR RELATIONSHIP. IS NO ONE ELSE CRYING AT THE FACT THAT HENRY CHOSE HER FOR THE MOST LIKELY TO LEAD THE BEDROOM

-

@/listennlearn: The photobooth photos from their wedding are so magical, the photo where Y/n is on his lap and he’s kissing her cheek 🥺🥺

-

@/butterflytruck: When Y/n's dress got too heavy for her so he literally helped to carry her skirt at the back for her, and he let her sit on his lap for the reception too so he could kiss her shoulders. Plus the way in the after scenes where we took such gentle care taking out each of her hair pins, WHICH THERE WERE HUNDREDS BY THE WAY

>> @/lisbonprincessa: well we all know what happened afterwards cus I could clearly see Henry’s paws venturing under her silk robe a bit TOO OFTEN

______

“Yeah,” you say, “That’s me.”

The receiver crackles, sounding as though the man must have released a held breath. There’s silence for a few beats. Then a few more; no sound except for the drone of the robot bugs. You sigh, wondering if this was a prank call or a wrong number. But that couldn’t be, this person knew your name. Maybe the call was dropped.

“Hello?” you ask irritably.

You impatiently turn off the gas and get a plate from the cupboard. You’re about to hang up, when you hear the man clear his throat.

“It’s Sy,” he says simply.

Sy? You almost drop both the stir-fry and the phone. You think fast, placing the pan on the stove and taking a seat at the small dining table in your kitchen. Gripping the phone in one hand, you quickly bring the waiting wine glass to your lips with the other, gulping down the dry Pinot Grigio and nearly finishing the glass.

“Syverson?” you ask stupidly.

Why on earth was he calling you? He should be overseas. At least that’s what he had told you two months ago.

“Are you home already?” Then you gasp, your hand covers your mouth. Oh my god. What if he was shot or injured? “Did you get hurt?”

“No… uh — I’m in Iraq.”

Images from the fall of Baghdad came unbidden to your mind. You prefer not to watch the news, but these days it is impossible to avoid. Between the 24-hour news stations, newspapers, magazines, or the homepage where you check your email, it was difficult not to absorb at least some knowledge of what was happening in the Middle East; bombings, firefights, IED attacks, and countless other presumed horrors.

It didn't explain why he was calling you though. The two of you hadn't known each other very well. You were barely even friends, having only seen each other a few times before he left for Iraq. You were undeniably attracted to him. To you, he was the total package: ruggedly good looking with his buzz-cut, chiseled jaw, blue eyes to die for, and a tall, powerful, burly physique. The fact that he was a soldier hadn’t put you off either. Your father was a retired marine, and your brother was currently serving, so you knew enough decent military men to not instantly dismiss Syverson.

“Hello?” Sy says.

Shit.

What do you say? How do you talk to him? Why was he even calling?

The one date he had taken you on was good, the make-out session on your couch at the end of the night had been even better. As far as you were concerned, the date went well and you were sure he would ask you to go on another. Over the next few weeks he had called a handful of times, but when he didn’t ask you out again, you assumed that he wasn’t interested. The last time he called was to tell you he was being deployed. He gave you no promises and you offered none in return, knowing what deployment meant, especially during wartime.

“Sorry,” you say with a short laugh, “I’m surprised you’re calling me.”

“Want me to go?” His voice became gruff and guarded, but his tone softens your demeanor.

“No, not at all. I… I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Silence again.

You wrack your brain trying to think of something to say, anything to fill this awkward silence. You don’t know why he’s calling you, but you’re sure he doesn’t get to sit around making overseas calls all the time. You think back to when your father was deployed in the Gulf War, trying to remember what you would talk about. You remember telling him about school, about a new song you heard, you told him boring, everyday things.

You’ve been silent too long and you don’t want the short time he has to be wasted, so you say the first thing that pops into your head, “Hey, remember when we were talking about how I’d never seen Ghostbusters?” You want the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

“Yeah?” You sit up a little straighter in your chair, he actually sounds interested.

“Well, I watched it a few weeks ago.”

“Ya did?” His voice became lighter, as though he were smiling.

“Yeah, it was on TV,” you say, smiling, “I sort of understand why you had a crush on Sigourney Weaver back in the day.”

“Hell, Sugar, you ought to see her in Alien.” Sy whistles, “She is fine.”

“I saw Alien: Resurrection,” you laugh, “She’s still looking pretty good.”

“She’s great in that, but ya gotta watch Alien. And Aliens as well. Ya can probably give Alien 3 a pass though.”

“Ok, I’ll put those on my list then.” Shit, there goes that topic. You quickly try to think of something else. “Oh my God! Have you heard they’re making an Alien versus Predator movie?”

“You’re kiddin’,” Sy says, “Really?”

“Yeah, I can’t decide if it will be awesome or terrible.”

“It could be awesome. The Xenomorphs will fuck shit up,” Sy says confidently.

“But the Yautja had a Xenomorph skull in the ship at the end of Predator 2, so we know they hunt them.”

From there the conversation between you both simply flows.

You go back and forth, each arguing for your side and gently ribbing the other in jest. The conversation is easy, as comfortable as it had been when you went on that date.

“Yup,” Sy says in an altered tone. It’s short and cold, and noticeably different, you realise instantly that he isn’t talking to you. Your father has a similar tone.

“Give me a minute,” Sy adds in his work voice.

No, not his work voice, that’s his Captain’s voice. Your heart flutters. Christ, that’s hot. The subtle air of authority in his baritone makes your knees weaker than you care to admit.

“I gotta get going, Sugar,” Sy says.

“Yeah, of course.” There is a sinking feeling in your belly, you don’t want him to go yet.

More droning bugs. This silence is short though and not as awkward. Progress.

“I don’t know when I can call ya again,” Sy says apologetically, as if you were expecting this phone call in the first place, let alone more in the future, “I’d like to, when I can — that is, if you want me to.”

“Sure.” You giggle a little, thinking about your conversation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask you how you were or anything. Just talked your ear off about a stupid movie.”

Sy hums, “No, Sugar, it was...” you hear him take a deep breath, “it was exactly what I needed.”

You shift in your seat as a feeling of pleasant warmth radiates through you, “Well then, next time, I’ll give you a review of Freddy versus Jason.”

“Hold on, now! Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees? They made a movie ‘bout that?”

“Like I said, next time,” you deliberately tease.

Sy chuckles. It’s a short laugh, more indulgent than amused, but you’ll take it.

“I look forward to it, Sugar. Bye now.”

“Bye, Sy.”

The phone goes silent.

For a while you sit looking at the receiver in your hand with a mixture of happiness and confusion. Was he just bored? Did he try to call other people and they weren’t available? Did this mean he liked you like you had originally thought? Will you have to wait another three months before he reaches out again? Maybe he does this to all the girls, calling them while he’s away to make them feel special so that when he comes home he doesn’t have to work so hard to get with them.

Shaking your head, you admit you can’t possibly know why he called. No amount of guessing or theorising would answer that question. Finishing the wine in your glass, you pour another before finally eating your stir-fry.

It’s a little cold, but you don’t mind.

About two weeks later Sy phones again. You’re in bed, comfortably reading, thinking about letting the call go to the answering machine as you normally would this late at night, but ever since Sy’s phone call, you rarely let the machine take them.

“Hello?” you ask, feeling a little silly when you hear the hopeful note in your voice.

“Hey Sugar,” Sy says, and your mood soars.

“Sy! Oh my God! How are you? What’s been happening? It’s good to hear from you,” you gush.

Sy chuckles, and although you feel a little embarrassed by your obvious excitement, you’re pleased that he seems happy.

“I’m glad I caught ya,” Sy says, “I’ve been curious about this Freddy versus Jason thing. Can’t stop thinking ‘bout it.”

“It’s just a movie, Sy,” you laugh, “It’s a good movie, but it’s no Citizen Kane.”

“Maybe not, but I’ve been lookin’ forward to hearin’ you tell me all about it.”

“Oh,” A warmth spreads over your cheeks at the playful way he emphasises those last few words, making them suggestive and flirtatious. You swallow hard as your words get caught in your throat and manage to rasp out, “Um, ok.”

Over the next couple of months, Sy calls you regularly, usually two or three times a month. The calls aren’t long, ten or fifteen minutes at most, but you look forward to them like a kid looks forward to Christmas. After each call you’re on a high for a day or two, replaying the conversations in your head. When that thrill wears off, you start to think about the next call you'll have with him and the excitement builds anew.

“Are you seein’ anyone?” Sy asks during the fourth or maybe fifth call.

The question seems to come from nowhere, but you’re relieved because maybe he will give you an idea of why he’s been calling you. Is this just friendship? Are you just a person to anchor him to normal life, someone to talk to so he can have a break from whatever it is he’s seeing and doing over there? Or is there the potential for more?

“I’m not dating anyone.”

Sy falls into silence and the robotic hum is back. Although you always do most of the talking, he hasn’t gone this quiet since your first call. Maybe he’s expecting you to say something else.

“Are you?” you ask with trepidation. What if he says yes?

“No, Sugar,” Sy chuffs and you feel a rush through your body as your heart pumps faster, “Now, uh, tell me more about this car you’re thinkin’ of buyin’?”

Months pass by and nothing changes. This thing between the two of you is never discussed and you’re mostly okay with it. Sure, when you think of him your stomach flips and you can’t concentrate, but you enjoy his calls, and you tell yourself that his friendship is enough.

One call seems to change everything. Sy is about to hang up when he asks you a question.

“Hey, before you go, I wanted to ask you a favour.”

“Sure. I can try.”

There’s a beat of silence while you hold your breath.

“Will ya send me a picture of yourself?” Sy asks.

Your eyes widen.

“A picture?” You shift awkwardly on your couch, bringing your knees to your chest, “What kind of picture?” you ask with a shake in your voice.

“Whatever you want, Sugar,” Sy says lightly, “One from your birthday, maybe from a party, or weddin’, or somethin’. I'll take anythin’.”

“Oh,” You let out a giggle of relief, “Oh, I can do that. I thought you meant…” Heat burns your ears, you aren’t going to finish that sentence.

“Thought I meant what?” Sy asks before suddenly barking out a laugh, “Oh, no. No, I didn’t mean a picture like that,” He pauses and while he still sounds amused, his voice lowers, “I wouldn’t say no though.”

“Well, I will say no, to that kind of picture,” you say, still thoroughly embarrassed by your misinterpretation, and a little shocked. It’s the first time he’s really flirted with you.

“Cain’t blame a man for tryin’,” Sy jokes.

“But, I will send you a nice one, if you send me one of yourself too.”

“Deal. Now, ya got a pen handy? I’ll tell you how to get it to me.”

The next day you look through the last couple of rolls of film you developed, and check the images on your new digital camera. There is one photo you like, taken at a game of putt-putt, but it’s casual and you aren’t dressed up. It’s a candid shot, you’re laughing and half looking at the camera while lining up for your putt. You decide to send that one, along with a picture you'll take this weekend when you go out with friends.

On Monday, you place the photos in a box along with the latest edition of Rolling Stone, a book, some pretzels and trail mix, hot sauce, a foam football, and some socks that your brother said all the guys were raving about. You wonder if it is too much, if it’s crossing a line, but your brother assures you that Sy will love it.

Nearing the end of the conversation with your brother, he becomes serious, giving you the third degree, and warning you that those Special Forces guys are a different breed.

“They’re gone six to nine months of the year just for training when they're not deployed. On tour, he could be gone anywhere from six months to two years. They frequently won’t be able to tell you where they’re going. Communication is difficult, coms black outs are common. I don’t know this for sure, but they seem to move more than we did growing up.”

“Are you saying I should stay away?”

“No. I’m just giving you the facts. You have to decide if he’s worth the price you’ll have to pay. Being alone and waiting isn’t easy, you saw how hard it was on Mom.”

He’s right, you know that. But the way your hands start to shake, and the way your mouth goes dry whenever you hear the phone ring, that can’t be ignored.

“We’re just talking,” you retort. “He’s never said he wants more than that anyway.”

“You know I love you. You’re my little sister. But, if you think he’s calling you every week…”

“Sometimes every two weeks,” you correct him.

“Fine, every two weeks,” You can practically see him rolling his eyes, “If you think he’s calling you that often because he wants to be your friend, then you’re a dumbass. He’s interested in you. He’ll ask you out at some stage, you wait and see.”

The call with your brother leaves you in a strange headspace. Part of you wants more from Sy too. Well, a large part of you wants that, but your brother's warning has got you all tied up in knots. Even if Sy does want more than friendship, would you be able to deal with that? Truthfully, you don’t know.

You stare into the shipping box, feeling like it’s missing something. Other than the photos, there’s nothing tangible of you in there, and it feels too impersonal. You think a letter might be nice, you’ll make it short and keep it light, just like your phone calls.

Dear Sy,

Forgive me if I’ve overstepped by sending you some gifts. I know my brother always loves getting packages from home, so I hope you do too. He recommended the socks, and hopefully the recommendation of a Jarhead is okay with you. Haha!

I can’t wait to hear from you again. I’ve really been enjoying our phone calls. I was thinking that I could keep writing to you too, if you’d like, and maybe send you some more magazines or snacks. Next time we talk you'll have to give me a few ideas.

I bought two copies of the book I sent you. I thought it might be fun to both read it so we can talk about it together. Maybe that’s silly. I don’t even know how much time you have to read. I don’t even know if you like reading, or if you do, what kind of books you like. But, I’d like to know Sy. I’d like to know those things about you.

Take care.

You sign the letter with just your name, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you throw it in the box, tape it shut and take it to the Post Office.

When you check the mailbox a week later, you see a small white envelope with your address handwritten in a small, narrow, but neat, script. You quickly turn it over and see that it’s from Sy.

It’s embarrassing how quickly you race to get inside your apartment. With shaky hands you unlock your door, dump your bag on the floor, and try to get comfortable on the couch. You’re too excited, your body tingles with goosebumps, and your fingers tremble.

He touched this, you think, he wrote this for me, this is his handwriting.

You carefully open the envelope, peeling back the flap slowly, watching as the glue pulls away in strings before it snaps apart. Inside is a photograph and what looks like a letter on white paper with faded blue lines.

You pull out the picture first. It’s a headshot and it’s a little blurry, but it still takes your breath away. Sy is wearing a dark brown shirt with a green and black scarf wrapped around his neck. He’s staring into the camera. His brows are drawn together in a serious expression. He looks different to the way you remember him; his face is a little slimmer, and the beard is new. You didn’t think they were allowed to have beards.

All at once you remember the night he took you on that date, and you subconsciously draw your thighs together. Looking at his short hair, you remember how it felt, soft like velvet as you ran your hand over it when you kissed. He was so warm, his skin was almost hot to the touch as your hand had caressed his neck.

You wonder if he’ll have the beard when he comes back. You wonder what his kisses would feel like with the beard. His lips had been smooth and strong. Would his beard prick at your lips? Would it chafe at your skin like a five o’clock shadow, or will its length make it softer? Would its coarseness add a layer of sensory pleasure that you haven't felt before?

Knowing that those kinds of questions will only lead you down a path of distraction, you put the photo down, and take out the letter. You have to read it several times before it starts to sink in.

Sugar,

Sorry about the quality of the photo, I didn't have many options. I got it from one of my team, he took pictures of all of us a few months ago before we left the city. If I don’t look impressed, it’s because I wasn’t. Thought it was a stupid idea, but I’m glad I let him take it cause now I can send it to you myself instead of asking my sister to send you one. Although, if you want a better one, I can ask her.

I want to thank you for talking to me. You didn’t have to, and I don’t know how to tell you how much I appreciate it. Talking to you has been just what I’ve needed. Remind me to tell you about the other girl who’s keeping me sane this tour, she’s a little smaller than you, much hairier, barks when she’s hungry, and answers to the name Aika.

I also want to apologise for not spending more time with you before I left. I was an idiot, an asshole really. I wanted to, it’s only that I was leaving and thought it would be better that way. I regret that now, I should have made more effort and not been

There’s more I want to say, but I want to say it to you in person. For now, I want you to know that I look forward to speaking to you, just thinking about it makes me smile, and more than once I’ve been caught thinking of you by my guys.

I’ll call you real soon and I look forward to your photo. I’m laughing now, thinking of how cute you must have looked, all embarrassed, when you thought I was asking for a dirty picture. I remember how cute you looked when I kissed you that night. I think about that sometimes. I think

Thank you,

Sy

By the time Sy calls you again, you must have read his letter a hundred times and looked at his photo twice that amount. You keep both on your nightstand, committing his words and image to memory before you sleep each night, strengthening your recall whenever you think of him.

“I gotta make this quick, Sugar. I ain’t got much time, but I got your package today and had to thank you,” Sy greets you.

“Yeah? You got it? Is it ok that I sent you the other stuff? I wasn’t sure. If you don’t want any of it, you can give it away. I don’t—”

“Hell no, baby! I ain’t givin’ any of it away,” he sounds a little outraged at the suggestion, “I love everythin’ you sent me,” his voice softens and you would give anything to see his face, “You’re just as gorgeous as I remember.”

You smile and you feel your body heat up. You’re glad he can’t see you right now, you would barely be able to look at him.

“Sy…” you murmur. “I, uh, thank you. That’s sweet.”

“Ain’t nothin’ sweet about it. It’s the truth.” Sy chuckled. “And you sent me two photos. And all the other things. Not gonna lie, darlin’, I feel a li’l spoiled.”

You laugh, feeling a little uncomfortable. Not because of anything Sy has said, but rather it’s your brother's advice that plays on your mind. You change the subject, first asking him about the book and if he wants to do a read-along. He does. Then you ask if he wants you to send more packages. He does. However, it takes a while for him to admit it, he doesn’t want you to go to any trouble.

“I should be the one buyin’ you things, and givin’ you surprises,” There’s a hint of flippancy in his tone, but not much, “Takin’ you out somewhere nice to eat.”

Oh. Maybe your brother was right.

You laugh it off, “It’s 2003, Sy, women can pay for themselves.”

“I’m serious, Sugar. No woman of mine would be buyin’ me dinner.”

Woman of mine? Did he even realise what he just said? Or was he just speaking in a general sense?

“Well, I’m not trying to pay for dinner. I just want to send you some more magazines and socks.”

“You’re a sweet thing ain’t ya?” Sy says and his words set fire to your cheeks. “You takin’ the time to talk to me is more than enough.”

“What if I send you another picture with each package? I'll—”

“Deal,” Sy interrupts and you giggle.

Sy laughs, it’s a little teasing and you think about the last paragraph of his letter, the part that until now you haven’t wanted to acknowledge. You two have grown comfortable with each other, and a little light flirtation at this point of a relationship is natural, even for friends. You’re both testing the boundaries, seeing what you can get away with, probing for the potential of more. But, even so, you still aren’t sure you want to go there with Sy because there’s too much to unpack, so you redirect and ask him about Aika.

“Should I be jealous?” you ask with faux petulance. Shit. You aren’t supposed to be flirting back.

“Maybe,” he concedes, “She makes me smile almost as much as you do.”

You fall into silence, dropping your head with a grin. Fuck, you do want him to flirt with you. You can hear him breathing, suddenly heavy, and so loud that the robotic buzz is drowned out, and you like that too. When he speaks again, his voice is husky and deep.

“I’ll bet you’re smilin’ right now, ain’t ya, Sugar?”

“Sy…” you say softly. You’re more than just smiling, your body tingles and your heart beats so hard, you can feel it in your toes.

“Yeah, you are. You don’t have to tell me, I can hear it in your voice.” He makes a noise in his throat, like a groan, “I gotta go. I… Things are a li’l crazy ‘round here right now. It may be a while before I can call you again.”

“Okay,” you say, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice, “Sy, I…”

“Yeah, baby?”

You shouldn’t say it. It’s on the tip of your tongue. You know you aren’t going to be able to stop yourself, because you want him to know. So much for working through how you feel about him later. Your heart already knows, it’s just taken your brain a little while to catch up.

“I think about that night we kissed too,” you whisper, referencing his letter.

He makes that noise again. You wonder if it’s the same noise he made in your ear that night and your spine feels like jelly.

“I gotta go,” Sy says so softly, you barely hear him, “I’ll be thinkin’ about you.”

Before you can say goodbye, the line goes dead.

It takes a while before you feel like you can move. You hold the phone tightly in your grasp, not wanting to let it go, because you fear if you do, you’ll forget the sound of his voice.

It’s over a month since you've heard from Sy. You know he said he was going to be busy, but after the second week of not hearing from him, you begin to doubt. You question everything, you stop reading his letter and looking at his picture. You remind yourself that he is on the other side of the world, and you remind yourself to protect your heart.

By the fifth week you’ve almost convinced yourself that he’s finished with you. You were just a distraction, a way for him to pass the time; a warm female voice to drown out the sounds of the cold men he dealt with daily.

What really messes with your mind is that even if he’s not calling because he doesn’t care about you, you’re incomprehensibly okay with that. You’re okay with it because it means he’s alright, it means he’s safe. He’d be a complete asshole, but he’d be fine. You can’t stand to think about other possible reasons for his silence.

When the phone rings, late on Sunday morning, you’re still in bed catching up on sleep. No longer do you answer the phone with your heart in your throat, indifference is all you can manage. It’s probably just your mother anyway, calling to remind you about meeting her for lunch.

But as soon as you raise the receiver to your ear, you know it’s him. The line crackles with the same robotic humming that you thought you’d never hear again.

“Sy?” you whisper, or at least you try. Your voice sounds strangled, even to your ears.

Blood roars in your head, from anger or relief you can’t tell because you feel both. You open your mouth to tell him you hate him, tell him you miss him, tell him you’re glad he’s okay. But you don’t. You slam your mouth shut, you keep it inside, you don’t want to give away too much. It was too painful after last time.

So you wait. As the silence stretches, the strange pulsing static of the line grows intolerable, and you begin to worry. Is this even Sy? Are you hearing things because you desperately want it to be him?

Then he clears his throat, a short cough that sounds wrong. As soon as he speaks you know something isn’t right.

“Hey, baby,” he sounds tired, but not just tired, depressed. Oh my God, what happened?

“Hey, Sy,” you say gently.

You want to ask him what’s wrong, you want him to tell you what happened, but you know he won’t. In all the time you’ve been speaking to him he hasn’t told you a thing, he hadn’t even mentioned Aika until his letter. You don’t take it personally, you knew next to nothing about your father’s or brother’s deployments. Sy may not even be allowed to tell you anything, that’s just the way things are in most military units. Still, after all these weeks, he must be calling you for a reason, you just can't put your finger on why.

“You never call me at this time of day, Sy. Are you okay?” you prompt lightly.

Sy sucks in a breath. It’s been so long since you saw him in person, and you can’t remember what he looks like when he does that. You wish you could remember. You wish for so much.

“I needed to hear your voice, Sugar,” he says softly, and your heart stutters as his reason for calling emerges. He’s speaking so slowly that his accent has become thick, and his voice is so heavy that it flows like syrup into your ear, “It's been too long.”

“You’ve been busy, huh?” you say, surprised at the lack of bitterness in your voice. You can’t bring yourself to be upset any more, not when he sounds so awful.

Sy hums in what could be agreement. He’s quiet for a while and you wait, hoping he’ll say something before you tear your hair out in frustration.

“When I—” Sy starts, then stops, and it takes a few moments for him to speak again, “I think about you, Sugar. A lot. More than I probably have a right to.”

You don’t know what to say. After all this time, are you finally going to have an honest conversation about your relationship? Are you going to talk about where this is going? If it’s going anywhere at all?

“Will ya do somethin’ for me?” He asks.

“Sure,” you say, “If I can.”

“Will ya tell me that you’re waitin’ for me? That you’ll be there when I get home?”

You’re a little taken aback, so you hesitate in answering. You think about the last month, the pain of not hearing from him, and the constant worrying. This is what a relationship with Sy would look like more often than not, irregular communication for months or years at a time. Is that what you want? Was he worth it?

“I won’t hold ya to it,” Sy says, “I just—”

“Sy—”

“Fuck, forget it—”

“Wait—”

“I shouldn’t’ve asked—”

“Sy, stop!” you say firmly, “Just stop,” Sy stops talking but he’s still there, you can hear him breathing, “I’m not going to say something like that just because you ask me to.”

“I know, I—”

“Would you let me finish, Sy?”

He grunts, low and guttural, his frustration as evident as yours. You wish you could see him. You wish he could see you. You don’t know if you have the right words to tell him how you feel, but you try.

“I want you to know that if I say something like that it’s because I really mean it. I don’t want you to doubt it, and if I tell you that now, like this, you will.”

The silence from Sy feels heavy, the dead air is thick with unspoken words. Your gut twists as you think of him alone, obviously going through something, and he reaches out to you, only to be rejected. But that’s not what you mean, and you need to let him know that.

“Can I tell you some other things? Some things you’ll know are true.”

“Please,” he murmurs.

“I can tell you that after we speak, I smile for hours, days, weeks,” your voice quivers and you take a deep breath. He doesn’t need your tears. “I think about how you laugh and how wonderful that sound is.”

You wonder what he’s doing in this moment. How is he sitting? Is he laying down? Is his head in his hands? Is he petting Aika? Is he alone? Has he showered? Can he shower? Is he wearing the socks you sent?

You want to comfort him, you want to tell him that it’s going to be ok, but you know you can’t. He knows you can’t promise him that. What do you say when you don’t know why he seems to be in so much pain? You don’t know what he could possibly need from you.

The truth. You tell him your truth.

“And I smile because for those moments that we’re talking, I’m not worried about you. I know you’re safe.”

You hear him expel breath into the phone. The speaker crackles and shudders, or is that him? Is he crying? Is he okay? You wish…

“I wish I could see your face when I talk to you. I wonder what it looks like when you say certain words or speak in a certain tone. I’d like to know what you look like when you’re quiet. Like now, I want to see your face so bad.”

“Me too baby,” his gravelly voice is throaty, his drawl is so strong.

“I want to see you when you get home, Sy. I do. I’m not making any promises, but I like you... a lot. I've liked you from the start. You’ve kept me at arm’s length though, and that just isn’t going to work for me.”

“Because I knew I was leaving,” he repeats the excuse he wrote in his letter, but his tone makes you wonder if he's not trying to convince himself more than you.

“When are you comin’ home?” you ask softly.

“Officially, my tour is up in a few weeks,” Sy’s voice is stronger now, more like what you’re used to, “But after what went down…” More silence, “Could be tomorrow, or six months from now.”

Six months. Or tomorrow. Or…

“Keep calling me, Sy. Or write if you can’t call. Do you have email where you are? Send me an email, even if it’s just one line.”

“I will, but I can’t email. There’s no internet at this camp.”

You hear him breathe in, long and deep. Then you hear that noise again, that deep rumble in his throat. Your thighs clench together and your face heats up.

“Sy, what are you doing?” you ask, just above a whisper.

“Right now? Layin’ on my bed. Just… thinkin’.”

“Yeah? What are you thinking about?”

Sy chuffs, “Not what, who.”

“Who are you thinking about then?” you ask innocently, not realising until too late what he means.

“You,” Sy says, and his voice takes on that low husky tone. Your thighs rub against one another, you can’t stop them, “I’m always thinkin’ of you— You wanna know what I’m thinkin’ about?”

“I don’t know,” you swallow, feeling breathless, “Do I?”

“How ‘bout I tell ya one thing I’m thinkin’ about, then you can tell me if ya wanna hear more.”

You want to know. You want to know if he’s having the same thoughts as you.

“Okay,” you murmur, and restlessness sinks deep into your bones. Your body is so hot, and you already feel the wetness ebbing from your center.

“I’m thinkin’ about that night I took ya out. Thinkin’ about that dress ya had on... God, you were so pretty. All night I wanted to kiss you.” He pauses, and you hear that sharp inahle again, “Then we went to your place and— fuck, baby, you really let me kiss you.”

“I liked that,” you tell him as you sigh, and he makes that noise that keeps driving you wild, “I liked you kissing me.”

“That’s good, baby,” Sy says, “That’s what I want... to make you feel good.”

“You did, Sy.”

“I wanna do that again. When I come home, I’m gonna kiss you just like that,” Your body heats even more at his suggestion. Would you let him kiss you again?

“I want that too, Sy,” you say firmly, despite your trembling voice, “I really want you to kiss me like that again.”

Sy hums, his deep voice rumbles in his throat, “Whenever I imagine that, making you feel good, it doesn’t stop at kissin’, Sugar.”

He just says it, a little tentatively perhaps, like he’s testing your reaction, but he just admits he’s thought about being intimate with you. And from the way he says it, he’s thought about it often.

“Do you wanna know more, or should I stop?”

You let out a small noise, like a squeak. You hope he knows that means yes.

“Where are you?” he asks. Is that a grin you sense in his voice?

You look around, like you've forgotten your location in this universe. God, he truly makes your brain shut down. He makes you stupid in the best possible way.

“Actually… I haven't gotten out of bed yet.”

“Shit,” Sy groans, drawing the word out.

His reaction makes you bold, and although your heart thunders, you close your eyes, and manage to speak, “I’m still in my t-shirt, the one I wear to bed.”

You hear him swallow, “Anything’ else?”

“Just my panties,” you barely breathe.

“Fuck,” Sy groans again. “You’re makin’ it really tough for me not to grab my cock right now, baby.”

“Oh,” you say on a long exhale, because you feel like you have to say something.

What you really want to say is: do it.

“Why don’t you?” you add quickly, squeezing your eyes shut in mortification.

Sy is quiet, all you hear is his quickening breaths. “Do ya want me to?” he asks, his voice is hoarse and breathy.

“Yes,” you admit. God, you’re shaking, your hands are trembling.

The speaker fills with static as he breathes out. “God dammit, I wanna touch you so bad. You gonna touch yourself too, Sugar?”

Shit. Oh shit. You weren’t expecting that. You’re definitely in the mood, but this is still too new and you’re insecure. You’ll probably end up replaying this moment later and cursing yourself.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Too much?” he says hoarsely, but gently. There’s no anger in his tone.

“I… I feel like I want…,” you don’t know how to explain yourself.

“Tell me, Sugar. It’s ok, tell me what you want.”

“It just feels… strange, to do this on the phone for the first time, instead of together, in person.”

Sy hums mulling it over, “But… you would want that?”

You don’t say anything. What can you say? You’ve just teased the hell out of him and now you feel like an ass.

“How bout we save all that ‘til we see each other again?” Sy suggests.

“I feel bad.”

“Nah,” Sy laughs, “I’ll just wait until ya hang up to finish.”

“Sy!” you exclaim, but you laugh along with him.

You talk for a few more minutes before you tell him that you have to go, “I’m meeting my mom for lunch. I’m already going to be late.”

“Yeah, I should go too. I’ve used every privilege I have as an officer, and some I don’t, to get the phone for this long,” He pauses and becomes serious, “I know what you said earlier, but… will ya do me a favor?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me if you start seein’ someone.”

“I’m not going to start seeing anyone, Sy. I’m not sure where this is going with us, but I’m not about to throw it away either.”

Sy calls you more frequently now, usually once a week. There hasn’t been another call like that one, but you feel as though your relationship has changed again. It’s subtle, but tangible.

Sy says things like, “When I get back, we should see that,” or “I’d like to take you there when I get home.”

Tentative promises are made, and restrained flirtations are thrown around. You tell him you think about him, you tell him sometimes you want to see him so bad you ache. He tells you he wants to see you, he wants to kiss you; he hints that he wants you to be his, but the line you established on that earlier call is never crossed.

You both send more packages, more photos, and more letters. Sy sends you a picture with Aika, in it he’s wearing sunglasses, shorts, and a red shirt. He seems bigger than you remember. So broad in the chest. You wish he’d have taken the glasses off though, so you could see his handsome face.

Then the day finally comes, the day when he tells you he’s coming home. At first you can’t process it, like you had accepted that Sy was just a disembodied voice, not something to see, or touch, or smell. Then, as he lays out the process of returning home, you start to believe.

“I’ll really get to see you? In two weeks?” You ask incredulously.

“I’ll be all yours for thirty days. No work, nothin’.”

“What about your family?”

Sy grumbles, but you can tell he’s putting it on, “I suppose I’ll have to go see them for a few days.”

“Yeah, you should,” you say, smiling.

“Will ya come with me?” he asks.

“Sy…” You can’t fault his tenacity, “Let’s see how things are between us first?”

“There ain’t no way we won’t work,” Sy says, “I've never wanted a woman like I want you.”

“That’s only because you’ve had to wait over a year.”

“That ain’t it, baby,” Sy says seriously. Then his voice lowers, getting so gravelly he practically growls, “That’s why I’m so fuckin’ horny... but that ain’t why I want to be with you.”

As it always does when he talks like that, a fire ignites in your gut and radiates through you, heating your blood until you feel hot all over. You can’t imagine how it will feel to have him touch you and talk to you like that. You shiver just thinking about it.

You want to ask him why he wants to be with you, but he diverts the conversation and tells you he has to get you clearance to visit him. Sy lives on base, and he says it’s easier for him to pick you up to bring you to his place.

“Less paperwork,” he explains.

“Don’t you want me to meet you when you arrive?” The party atmosphere of homecoming was one that soldiers usually look forward to. If he doesn’t want you there, maybe he’s not as serious about you as you thought.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about that. As much as I want you to be there,” Sy makes a noise like he’s sucking in air through his teeth, and says amused, “I don’t think you’d wanna meet the guys that way.”

“Yeah ok, good point,” you concede with a laugh. The thought of meeting his group and their families in an atmosphere like that is a bit intimidating.

“We’re plannin’ a barbeque for a couple of weeks after we get home. I’d like to take ya with me, and you can meet the guys then.”

“Sounds like a much more relaxed way to meet them.”

“Good,” Sy says, sounding pleased.

“Shit, I’m nervous just thinking about it.”

“What?! Meetin’ the boys? Baby, they love you already.”

Your eyes widen, “You told them about me?”

“I didn’t say anythin’, they just figured somethin’s up. Been a few comments about my mood having improved this deployment, and the packages I’ve been gettin’, and how they wanna meet the girl that keeps makin’ me smile.” Sy chuckles.

Your cheeks burn, but it's a pleasant feeling and you smile widely. You like hearing that he’s happy.

“Okay.” You don’t know what to say, so you steer the conversation back to his homecoming. “Will Aika be coming home with you?”

“Yeah,” Sy says and you can hear the joy in his voice. “She’ll be quarantined for three months though.”

“Oh, that’ll be tough,” you say sympathetically. “You’ll miss her.”

“I will,” Sy agrees. “But I’ll have you.”

God damn him. Four words and he renders you speechless again.

“Baby? Are ya still there?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking,” you scramble, trying to remember what you were talking about. “Oh, yeah. So, if you’re coming to get me anyway, why don’t you just stay with me?” you ask.

“Cause your couch is too small for me to sleep on.”

“My bed’s not too small.”

You hear Sy suck in a breath. “I can just go home at the end of the night. It'll be easier that way. You should still fill out the forms though, so you can visit me when ya want to and—”

“Sy,” you interrupt with a smile. It suddenly dawns on you that he’s nervous.

“Yup,” His lips make a small pop when he says it.

“You don’t want to sleep in my bed?” you ask, playing a little coy.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” Sy says roughly.

“Me neither.”

“I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself.” There’s a question in his statement, like he’s unsure that you would want him to touch you.

“I wouldn't want you to,” You hold your breath in anticipation of his answer.

“From the second I see you, all I’m gonna want to do is touch you,” he groans.

A moan leaves your lips as your arousal wells between your legs. “I want that too.”

“And baby... Once I start, I ain't gonna stop,” Sy says.

His voice sounds strained, like he’s struggling to lift something. Then he clears his throat, his voice is back to its normal deep, soothing baritone, and he changes the subject.

“We’ll play it by ear then, Sugar.”

Never in your life have you felt such a cocktail of emotions. It makes sense though; there is so much riding on tomorrow. What if you and Sy don’t click like you had when you last saw each other? What if he realises that you’re not what he really wants in this life?

Pushing aside your worries and insecurities as best as you can, you finally succumb to uninterrupted sleep in the early hours of morning and don't wake until well into daylight. In a way, this was good, Sy was planning to come to your apartment after lunch, so there is plenty of time to get yourself ready.

You take a long shower, using the time under the warm water as a way to stay calm. After you dress, you put on makeup and fix your hair, deliberately keeping your pace measured and unhurried. You don’t want to be ready too early, knowing that waiting around for Sy with nothing to do will send you into an anxiety induced panic. You double check that the apartment is clean, that you have all the ingredients for dinner, and that you have plenty of beer.

When the security buzzer goes off during the next unnecessary inspection of your apartment, you freeze like a deer in headlights. You can barely breathe. Every muscle in your body tenses and you have to force yourself to move. Will you even be able to make it to the door?

Your hands tremble as you press the intercom button.

“Hello?” you rasp.

“It’s me, Sugar. It’s Sy.”

Your hand flies to your mouth, your body can’t decide if it wants to sob with relief or squeal in excitement. Your stomach churns in on itself, you feel faint and lean your head against the wall for support.

“Sugar?” Sy repeats. “You there?”

Oh shit! How long have you left him standing there? Your face burns so hot you think you might break out in a sweat.

“Yeah, I’m… uh… I’m here,” you stutter.

“You gonna let me in, baby?” Sy says and even through the crackling static of your intercom you can hear the amusement in his voice.

You press the security button to open the door. Your breathing grows shallow as you wait for Sy to make his way up the stairs, and you find it hard to swallow.

You’re trying not to lose it.

You have to get a hold of yourself or you’re going to ruin everything. You fill your lungs with air until they’re nearly bursting, holding it in for a count of three, then slowly letting it out. You do it again, and again, hoping to reach some level of calm before he arrives at your door.

The next moments happen in slow motion: he knocks— you open the door, and he’s standing there within your reach. You could lift your hand and touch him, if only to make sure he’s real, but all you can do is gawk. He’s taller than you remember, his eyes are bluer too, and you’re surprised to see he still has his beard.

You swallow hard and try to smile, to say hello, to say anything, but you just stare at him. You would feel embarrassed, but it seems he has been struck motionless as well. Well, not quite motionless, you can see his chest heave with every hard and heavy breath. He’s so big, his chest strains against his t-shirt, revealing the outline of his pecs with every inhale. His jeans fare no better, so tight against his thighs you think there was no way they could be comfortable.

Tearing your gaze from Sy’s body, you meet his eyes. Beneath his lowered brows they are dark with a hunger that you’re not sure you are ready for. It’s overwhelming, threatening to consume you from the inside out, until there’s nothing left except your craving for him. He starts to move, taking small but deliberate steps into your apartment. You barely notice the overnight bag that is slung over his shoulder until he drops it in your entryway.

Your fingers slip from the door knob as you move back to give him room, and the heavy door swings itself shut with a solid thud. Like a lion stalking his prey, Sy follows you step by step until your back hits the wall. He catches your hand as it falls and his eyes lower to watch as he entwines your fingers together; your hand is so small in his. Bringing your joined hands to his chest, he closes the distance between you with one short stride. Your heart skips a beat at this gesture, his tenderness is so unexpected.

With the tips of his fingers, he steadily glides them up your bare arm. His touch is so light that your skin tightens into goosebumps, and you shiver. Sy’s lips curl into a smile as his hand moves across your collar-bone until he holds your chin, raising it just enough to look into your eyes.

He’s so close that his scent fills your nose like a vapor. The subtle masculine fusion of spice and leather makes your mouth water with a greedy desire. You lick your lips, just as Sy’s pink tongue darts out to sweep over his own.

He moves closer still, his body crowds yours, and though you’re trembling, you reach your free hand for his lower back and draw him towards you. He raises his eyebrows, and he dips his head slightly as if to ask; Are we doing this? Is this what you want? He must be as tongue tied as you are.

You nod in response and close your eyes. You feel his warm breath first as it tickles at your wet lips, and your breath catches in your throat. His thumb strokes your cheek as he gives your hand a squeeze.

Then his lips press against yours; closed, firm pillows beneath a layer of soft flesh. They stroke over yours, moving with a dreamy ease. His beard gently grazes over your skin, the sensation of his soft whiskers is new and electrifying. His mouth parts, and his tongue slowly laps at your top lip, coaxing you to open for him. You yield, you have to, you couldn’t have stopped him even if you tried.

Meeting his tongue with yours, the contact makes you both moan. Sy’s hips press against yours as your hand fists in his t-shirt, gripping firmly and tugging him closer. For a moment you’re both uncontrolled, lost in each other. Your hand lifts his shirt to feel the warm skin on his back. His body feels hot, hard, and dense. His hulking, powerful physique is undeniable as his hips begin to roll in tight circles against you.

Sy’s hand slides down your neck, clutching your throat momentarily before moving lower. He brushes his flattened hand over your chest, palming your breasts with a low growl. Your legs are no longer strong enough to hold you up and you melt into him, becoming boneless in his embrace.

As quickly as you get lost, Sy brings you back, breaking the kiss with a gentle peck. You both open your eyes as he moves his hand to caress your cheek while you straighten his shirt.

Sy is grinning widely, seemingly satisfied for now. His face is flushed, and he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as his eyes drink you in. You want to look away because your cheeks feel aflame under his gaze, but you don’t, and you’re sure he can feel how your skin burns. You let him look, because you’re looking too. You’re searching and examining for the details of him that you remember and also trying to discover what is new. His light freckles, his unique blue eyes with the slash of brown within the left, the small scar on his nose, those are familiar; there is a new scar on his cheek, and a deep tan to his skin.

“Hi,” Sy says, finally.

You laugh, for the first time in nearly eighteen months you hear his voice without the filter of some sort of electronic device and it's wonderful. “Hi.”

Sy huffs with a smile and shakes his head as if in disbelief. You can’t quite believe it yourself; to have him finally here with you, in the flesh, it’s like a dream. He kisses your mouth again, just a soft brush of his lips before he groans.

“Christ, baby, I just wanna…” His eyes are scorching and he presses himself into you. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous.”

His lips meet yours again. He’s rougher now, and his kisses leave your mouth, trailing down your jaw to your neck. Teeth scrape at your skin, his mouth sucks, and you squirm in his arms, giggling as he growls into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Sy,” you half whine, half laugh.

Leaving you with one last nibble, he stands back. He draws his lower lip into his mouth and folds his arms over his chest as if he needs to deliberately hold himself back. Maybe he does.

“Damn, baby, look at you.”

Looking down at your summer dress and bare feet, you shake your head and walk down the hall, past the bathroom and your bedroom, into the kitchen and family room. You glance over your shoulder and smile as Sy follows you. You’re still a little rattled by his kiss and the anxiety that led up to today, but you also feel a giddy high and you don’t think the smile on your face will fade easily.

“Want a beer?” you ask.

He nods, “Thanks.”

Going to the fridge, you get a beer for Sy and a wine cooler for yourself. You open them both and hand Sy his. His eyes haven’t left you once.

“Well, cheers,” you say, lifting your bottle to Sy’s.

“Cheers.” Sy grins and meets your bottle with his.

You rest against the countertop while Sy leans against the island. Unable to take your eyes off him, as he brings the bottle to his lips and takes a sip. His bicep curls into a ball, straining the sleeve of his shirt as lifts the bottle higher, and his Adam's Apple bobs as he swallows nearly half of his beer. As he pulls the bottle from his lips, his tongue peeks between them, licking them with satisfaction before sucking first the bottom one, then the top one into his mouth. He is so effortlessly sexual and masculine, just watching him drink feels pornographic, and you hurriedly take a drink before he notices how you’re staring at him.

“You’re quiet,” Sy notes.

Shrugging, you finally escape the capture of his gaze and bring your drink to your lips, “It’s different having you here.”

Sy hums, as if thinking about his response, “It is,” he agrees.

You peek at him, his attention is still on you, and you don’t know how to act. This new dynamic seems strange to you. He’s so familiar; his voice, the tone and rhythm, is one you’d easily pick out of a crowd. You feel like you know him so well, but the man in front of you, the physical embodiment of that voice, is practically unknown.

“I like it though,” Sy says with a grin, “Bein’ here with you.”

“Me too,” You smile back at him then drink.

Sy puts his beer down on the counter and, widening his stance, opens his arms. “Come ‘ere.”

You hesitate. After the heated moment you exchanged in the entryway, you worry another kiss like that will send you both straight to the bedroom. Would that be a bad thing though?

Sy sees your hesitation and cocks his head a little to the side. You feel your cheeks warming as Sy softens his expression and lifts his chin in a beckoning gesture. “Come ‘ere,” he repeats, a little more gently.

Taking a deep breath, you step between his legs and his arms encircle your waist. He pulls your body close with a satisfied hum. Your body is a little stiff with anticipation.

“What did you plan for us to do today, Sugar?”

“I thought we could watch a movie,” you say, “Then I’d cook you dinner.”

“You don’t want to go out?” Sy asks.

“Sorry, I thought…” You turn your head away worried you’re assuming too much. Sy puts a crooked finger under your chin and lifts your face to his.

“Go on,” he says.

“I thought it would be nice… to be alone.”

“That sounds perfect,” Sy says, drawing out each word, showing his genuine affection for your plan.

Tension rises in your body, your muscles grow taut and expectant as he moves his hand to your neck. He gently fondles your throat then moves down your chest, his eyes follow the path of his hand until it rests between your breasts. Your lips part as your chest heaves beneath his hand, you can’t catch your breath.

You think he’s going to kiss you as he licks at his lips and places his hand on your cheek, instead he closes his eyes and leans his forehead against yours. You’re both still, neither of you moving as you stay in the moment. He murmurs something you don’t quite catch, something about being real. Then he opens his eyes, and they blaze with heat.

“What movie?” Sy asks throatily, as he lifts his head from yours.

“Huh?” You have no idea what he’s talking about.

Sy chuckles and the tension breaks, suddenly you can breathe again, “What movie do you want to watch?”

“We don’t have to,” you say, downplaying your suggestion, “It’s silly now that I think about it.”

“No, Sugar. Tell me.”

“Freddy versus Jason?” Sy’s eyebrows raise when you say the title, and you cringe a little, it was a dumb idea.

“You remember that?” he asks, smiling crookedly.

“Of course,” you smile, hesitantly.

“God damn, baby. You’re such a sweet thing.” He kisses your forehead, and his beard prickles your skin. He leans back a little and looks at you while you struggle not to squirm under his intense gaze.

“What?” you ask.

He keeps staring at you, but slowly the edges of his mouth lift into a smile, “Nothin’. Let’s go watch the movie.”

Sy smirks as you take him to your couch. You give him a questioning look as he sits and pulls you onto his lap, your legs straddling his huge thighs.

“I remember this couch,” Sy says. “Thought about it a lot while I was gone.”

His hands slide over your waist and he cups your ass. Your eyes widen as he pulls you closer and raises his hips until you can feel his jeans between your legs. He is so strong, manhandling you with ease and you giggle at his display.

“I remember too,” you laugh.

Sy puts a hand on your neck and gently brings your face close to his. Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, his eyes study your face before they roam lower.

“I remember you just like this,” Sy says in a deep, rough tone, “Every time I’d think of you, you were sittin’ just like this.”

Words fail you as you swallow hard, and your heart picks up its pace. You place a hand on his shoulder and run it over to his neck. Sy’s eyes close as your hand glides over the short velvety hair on his head and he makes that noise, that deep satisfied groan you heard on the phone so many times.

“You would touch me just like that,” Sy mumbles. He opens his eyes, and he doesn’t even try to hide the scorching urgency in them, “Keep doin’ that.”

Because you can’t speak, you nod as you put your other hand against his chest. It slides down his shirt, and biting your lip, you savour every curve and dip of his muscles that you can feel through the thin cotton. You tug lightly at it, lifting the hem. Sy sits forward quickly, and you both pull it off.

It barely hits the floor before Sy’s arms are around you and his lips find yours. His kiss is rough and hungry, without a hint of softness as his beard stings your lips when you kiss him back. His tongue slips past your lips instantly, demanding and dominating as he explores your mouth.

Sy clutches you to him, his kiss doesn’t stop as his hands move over your back and presses his chest hard against yours. You hold onto his arms, moaning at the feeling of his dense muscles beneath his smooth skin.

“Fuck, baby,” Sy breaths into your mouth, “I want this so much. I need you so bad.”

Your hands move to his shoulders and down his back, and you pull him closer too. Soon he is touching you everywhere, squeezing at your breasts, running his hands under your dress and up your thigh, kneading your ass through your panties.

An ache grows between your legs, a deep urgent desire pulses through your veins. You want him, you want all of him. Your hips begin to move, grinding against him as you seek to ease your need. Your head falls back, your throat exposed, and Sy latches on, sucking and nipping at your sensitive skin.

“I want to fuck you right here,” He growls into your neck, “I wanna taste you… I wanna be inside of you… I wanna be all fuckin’ over you.”

You feel Sy move beneath you and he holds your waist and the back of your head as he rolls you over into a sitting position on the couch. He’s on his knees in front of you, lifting your dress, and pulling desperately at your panties.

“Sy,” you say, pushing a flattened hand against his chest.

Sy looks at you, his face a picture of pure animal lust. His jaw is clenched tight, his nostrils are flaring, and his teeth are almost barred. You gasp and your core clenches, you have never had a man look at you like that before.

His hands go to your hips, and he pulls you to the edge of the couch before leaning his body over yours.

Sy’s brows come together, lifting, wrinkling his forehead like he is pleading, “Please, don’t ask me to stop.” His arm wraps around your lower back, lifting your body against his and his hand rests on your neck. “I’m just gonna touch you.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you tell him softly. He growls, and you cup his cheeks, holding his head close to yours. “But… slow down. Don’t rush.”

“Okay,” he rumbles, brushing his lips against yours so delicately that you shiver. “Okay,” he repeats, losing some of his urgency, but none of his desire.

Sy drops his head to your neck, and he kisses you, using his lips, tongue, and breath to caress your skin with the lightest of touches. His shoulders are bunched tight and you wonder if it’s an indication of how hard he’s trying to hold himself back for you.

“Sy,” you moan.

Sy kisses your jaw, down your throat, making his way to the tops of your breasts. His mouth is wet as he sucks at your exposed skin, and you run your hand over his close cropped hair.

“I wanna make you say my name like that over ‘n’ over,” Sy groans into your chest, “Fuck, baby, I just wanna make you feel good.”

Sy kisses you over the fabric of your dress, you can feel the heat of his breath through the thin cotton as he warms your skin with his descent. He keeps moving lower, over your breasts, down your belly, and across your hips. He puts his hands on your knees and his thumbs rub the inside of your thighs. They’re warm on your skin, comforting, though rough and calloused. They’re the hands of a man who knows how to touch a woman.

“Will ya let me, baby?”

He moves his hands up your thighs slowly, kissing your knees as he waits for you to speak.

“Yes,” you can barely breathe.

Sy groans as his teeth sink teasingly into the flesh above your knee. You mewl and your body twists as his hands continue to climb. His fingers hook into your panties at your hips, and he looks at you.

“I’m gonna take these off.”

“Sy…”

“I ain’t finished,” Sy says quickly. He brings his face to yours, so close that you’re sharing each other's air. “I’m gonna take these off, then I’m gonna touch you there, put my fingers inside you.” He pauses, to softly skim his lips over yours, gliding his tongue delicately over them. “Then I’m gonna put my mouth on you,” Sy murmurs through his kisses. “Gonna taste how sweet you are… and darlin’ I can’t wait to hear how you say my name when I make you come.”

“Fuck!” Your hands grip his arms, your fingers digging into his flexed muscles, your whole body feels restless with unspent energy and desire.

“Will ya let me do that for you?”

You bite your lip, look directly into his stormy blue eyes, and nod.

Sy groans and kisses you as he tugs at your panties. Without needing to be asked you lift your ass a little and he pulls them down where they fall to the carpet. With his mouth still on yours he spreads your legs and moves between them.

His hands move up your thighs, lifting your dress as he goes.

“Want me to take this off?” you ask, pulling at your dress.

“Not yet,” Sy says, “When I went down on you in my head, ya always had a dress on.” Sy grins and clamps his jaw tight as he growls through gritted teeth, “You don’t wanna know the things I’ve done to you in my head. The things I wanna do—”

“Don’t I?” you interrupt. Fuck yes, you want to know, “Maybe I’ve thought of the same things.”

Sy’s eyes close as he breathes deep through his nose. “You thought of me? Doin’ things to you? Touchin’ you?” He asks, as he digs his fingers into the meatiest part of your thighs and eases your legs further apart.

“Yeah,” you say hoarsely and lick your lips. .

“That’s so hot,” Sy murmurs. His hands go higher, until his thumbs reach the crease at the top of your thighs. “Did ya touch yourself?”

“Yes,” you say, somehow not embarrassed to admit it.

“So. Fuckin’. Hot.” His thumbs run over your swollen, soaked slit and he curses. “Shit, baby, you’re so fuckin’ wet. You want this too, don’t ya? You want me to touch ya?”

“Please.”

“God damn baby, you’re so good to me. How did I touch ya when you thought of me?” Sy slips his hands under you and shifts you to the side until half of your ass is off the couch. “Hmm? Tell me.” He grabs a couple of throw pillows and puts them in the corner.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

Sy just grins and leans over you. He cradles the back of your head and splays the other hand against your back.

“Lay down.”

He guides you until you're laying against the corner of the couch. He bites on his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth as he looks over you. His eyes are dark as he studies you and runs his huge hands over your sides until he’s sitting back on his heels, “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, I can barely stand it.”

Your whole body trembles with anticipation, you had no idea it was going to be like this, how much you need him. You want to scream “fuck me already”, but this languid pace, his gentle touch, feels so good.

“You still haven’t told me how I touch ya when you think of me.”

Sy holds the ankle closest to the couch and lifts your foot until he can place it on the cushion, leaving the other on the carpet. You’re spread open now, your body is on fire, but your skin feels cool where the air touches your bare wet centre. He doesn’t look though, instead he kisses your thigh near your raised knee.

Your mouth feels dry, and you swallow hard. “At first, you touch me… like you are now,” you tell Sy. He closes his eyes against your thigh and groans. “Soft, and gentle. It makes me feel like you care about me.”

“I do, baby. So much,” Sy shakes his head, “You’ve got no idea.”

“Then later, you’re rougher… harder.”

“God damn it, I—”

Sy stops talking mid-sentence and his eyes are fixed firmly on your exposed pussy. He doesn’t move, he barely blinks, then he licks his lips before pulling the lower one into his mouth. You wait, thinking he’ll move, that he’ll do or say something, but he doesn’t. Feeling exposed, and unsure, you bring your legs together.

“Don’t you dare,” Sy says with an authority that makes you freeze instantly and your core clench. He finally lifts his eyes to yours, “You are so gorgeous.” He looks slowly over you, all the way down to the hand still wrapped around your ankle, the rough pad of his thumb brushing over the bone. He moves his hand up your leg, following its path with his eyes before diverting and he brings his face close to yours. “Even when I dreamed of this… God, you’re just so much more…”

A small smile plays on Sy’s lips as he trails off, his fingers rising up your thigh, making you quiver with agonizing anticipation of his touch. Your heart is beating so hard you feel it everywhere, your cheeks, your ears, your thighs and your core, they all throb in time.

Sy looks back between your legs as his fingers glide over your wet and swollen skin. One of them brushes over your clit and you gasp. His smile widens as he slides a finger into you. You feel yourself tighten, but you’re so wet he slips in easily.

Sliding in and out slowly, Sy’s mouth parts as he watches, his chest puffs harder and heavier. You start to relax as he moves, surrendering to his touch. He sighs and kisses your thigh again.

“That’s it, baby.” Sy says. “You’re so good for me. You’re so soft and so pretty.”

He adds a second finger curling them inside you. Your body twists, your eyes close, the urge to seek friction is too strong and your hips start to roll.

“Sy,” you moan, “Sy I…”

Something soft and velvety brushes over your clit. You open your eyes to see Sy staring back at you, the tip of his tongue against your sensitive nub. Still kneeling on the carpet, he’s bent at the waist chest on the couch, his mouth hovering over your pussy.

Sy. His mouth. Your pussy. Oh God!

“Oh fuck,” you say with a shuddering breath.

Sy grins as he sweeps his broad, wet tongue over you. Your body quivers, every muscle coiling tight. He closes his eyes and growls.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath, “You’re fucking breathtaking.”

Sy puts his head down and takes you into his mouth. He sucks gently, while his tongue moves over you and his fingers pump against your spot.

“Oh, fuck!” you cry.

You throw your head back against the pillows, your back arching as you try to push yourself against Sy’s mouth. He is so warm, his tongue subtly rough, and his soft beard rubs against your delicate skin; the contrasting textures mingle and heighten every sensation.

It doesn’t take him long to have you mewling, quickly discovering what you like, he uses it to his advantage, deliberately teasing, drawing you out. It’s like he wants to stay between your legs and never leave.

Sliding his hand under your ass Sy lifts your hips, tilting them at a new angle, and he somehow seems to take more of you into his mouth. He keeps playing with you, varying his technique, speed, and firmness, listening to you and watching. Always watching. His eyes stay on you, even when he groans and closes his eyes, they pop open straight away, dark and hazy, pupils blown wide, drunk on lust.

You reach for him, your fingers slide over his beard and jaw. His eyes widen a moment, then keeping his mouth firmly on you, they shut slowly as he leans into your hand. You scratch softly at his beard as he works you closer to your peak and he practically purrs around your clit every time you squirm or moan.

Sy builds you slowly but ruthlessly, until every muscle in your body tightens and shakes, desperate for release. His hand slides out from beneath your ass, and you grab hold of it, fingers clamping down hard around his. Your heel digs into the couch, trying to get purchase as your back arches and your whole body pulls taut. Finally, you snap, and you cry out sharply as the tension releases in explosions of hot pleasure.

As your orgasm ebbs, you continue to tremble and can’t stop. Sy leans over you and covers your body with his. His fingers are still inside you, not moving, just keeping you full, and you like the way it feels. He looks at you, his brows drawn low together as he slips his free arm around your back. You wrap your arms around him and snake a leg around his too, clinging to as much of him as you can. He pulls you close, and you nuzzle into his neck, seeking the comfort of his warm skin.

“You’re ok, baby,” Sy whispers in your ear, “You’re good. I’ve gotcha.”

“I can’t stop shaking,” you whisper back.

“I know,” Sy lifts his head. “Take your time, baby. You were right, we ain’t gotta rush.”

Sy’s smiles reassuringly, his lips are glossy, his beard glistens and you realise with both horror and desire that it’s from you. His mouth and beard are wet with evidence of your arousal. You bite your lip and lean into his shoulder again to hide your face.

Sy’s pulls back so you can’t hide, one eyebrow is raised in question. “What’re you thinking right now, Sugar?”

He licks at his lips and all at once, you feel the ache deep in your gut return, and once again your cheeks flare. Smirking, Sy lets his fingers slip from your clenching core and brings them to your lips.

“Is this it, baby?” Your eyes slam shut.

Yes, that’s it, Sy.

You had no idea he was going to be like this, dirty, eager, unselfish, yet dominant and it’s blowing your mind. Sy moves his fingers to slide over your lips, so slick from you that you can’t feel the roughness of his pad.

“You got so wet for me,” Sy says huskily. “Tasted so fuckin’ sweet, just like I knew you would. And those noises you made for me,” he hums as if he’s just sampled something delicious, “God damn they were hotter ‘n hell.”

A whimper leaves your throat as you try to speak. “It felt amazing, Sy.” You open your eyes. “You made me feel so good.”

Sy groans, his voice rumbles like thunder in his chest, “I’ll do it again if you want,” he says. You almost giggle at his eagerness and you nod.

Without hesitation, he slides out of your arms. At first, you’re not sure what he’s doing, then you feel his hands push your thighs further apart.

“No, Sy,” You can’t stop your laugh this time as you grab hold of his shoulders, and he lets you bring his body back over yours, “I don't mean now.”

Sighing like he’s actually disappointed, Sy climbs onto the couch, settling between your legs. He holds his body weight on one arm and looks down between your legs. Although he’s had his shirt off for a while, you haven’t had the wherewithal to actually look at his body. Shirtless, he seems even bigger than you thought. His shoulders are massive, and you can see the corded muscles rippling under his skin as he supports himself over you. His pecs are tight below a dark layer of fur, and his core is engaged, making his abs stand out. He has more hair around his navel and following its trail lower, it disappears beneath his jeans, rousing your curiosity and desire.

Sy’s hand cups your pussy, interrupting your thoughts, and he lowers himself slightly, you feel some of his weight.

“You feel so good in my hand, Sugar,” Sy says. He leans down into your ear, his lips tickle as they move against it. He rubs his hand over your slit in long firm strokes. “I knew you would. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop touching you.”

Moving your hands down Sy’s chest they stop at his belt and your fingers slide into the tantalising dark hair that sinks below his jeans. Your hand slides lower, searching and when you find what you’re seeking, you gasp. Palming him over his jeans, you explore him with your fingers, spreading them over and around to gauge his girth and length. Sy sinks his teeth into your earlobe with a growl that seems to come from deep in his gut, and your heart kicks in your chest as you feel how thick he is.

“Fuck,” you breathe. Your fingers keep sliding along his shaft until you finally reach the head of his cock, and your thighs pull together, in excitement or fear, you can’t tell, “So big.”

“That’s all for you, baby,” Sy rumbles into your ear, “You make me so fuckin’ hard. The way you look. The way you feel. The way you smell… the way you fuckin’ taste.”

You let out a moan as a rush of lust rips through you. The way he talks, it’s— you’ve never heard anything like it. His head moves above yours and he’s shaking it, disbelieving.

“’N’ your voice… Sugar,” Sy’s lips crush yours, pressing firmly, then pulling them into his mouth. His hand leaves your pussy to hold your hand against him, pressing your palm hard against his jean-clad erection. He moves, rutting against your hand, obscenely, “Your voice fuckin’ kills me.”

“I want to touch you, Sy,” you say, pulling on his neck, drawing him closer to you until you can purr into his ear, “I want to feel you.

“Fuck,” Sy exhales in a long and shaky breath. The sound thrills you to your core and your body surges. “Where, baby? Tell me, where?”

You know he knows where you want to touch him, you practically are already, only the denim of his jeans stops you. But you realise quickly he wants to hear you say the words. You wonder if he likes hearing dirty things as much as he seems to like saying them.

Talking like this, being dirty like this, isn’t something you’re used to. But it’s Sy. You know him. Of course you were nervous when he arrived, but more than that, you were excited. It feels the same now, an ansty energy makes your muscles tremble, but your anticipation makes your blood feel like jet fuel in your veins. His seemingly easy and raw sexuality makes you not only feel comfortable to express yourself, but also to match his crudeness with your own.

“I want to touch your cock,” you say softly in his ear, before nipping at his earlobe.

A strangled moan comes from Sy’s throat and then his lips are on yours. His tongue pushes deep into your mouth, filling you for a moment, before he pulls away. His hand cups your jaw and you are forced to look at him. That animalistic look of primal need is back in his eyes, there’s an aggressive tension in his gaze, and each breath he takes is ragged and harsh.

Sy keeps looking at you, staring for so long that you surrender under the scrutiny and try to look away. He brings your face back to his, and although his eyes blaze with rank animal lust, the tightness has left his face.

Bringing your lips back to his, you grab at his belt while you kiss him. Sy lets go of your other hand and you make quick work of undoing his belt, the buckle flying wildly as you continue to tear at the buttons.

“Jesus,” Sy groans, watching as you undress him. You slide your hands under his jeans and boxers, tentatively squeezing his firm ass cheeks before pushing the garments down around his thighs.

A small yelp sounds from him as you continue trying to unrobe him.

“Stop a second, Sugar,” Sy says, his voice pitched oddly high, “I’m caught in my boxers.”

Your hands immediately fly away from his thighs, terrified that you’re hurting him, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

He chuckles, “It’s fine… I’m fine,” he inhales as he moves into a more upright position, pulling his boxers back up before kicking off his jeans and exhaling a sigh of relief. “Sit up for me, baby.”

He slides his hand under your head until you’re upright. He kisses you again, his hands roaming over your breasts, cupping them, and gently squeezing. His thumb finds your nipple through your dress, they’re so tight and firm he couldn’t miss them. He pinches your bud, and you feel it like white hot lightning down your spine, straight to your core.

You moan, and reach out to touch Sy, you want to feel him in your hand, you want to know what he looks like, you want to make him feel like he made you feel. Your fingers find the elastic of his boxers, but Sy’s hand stops you. He holds your hand to him, right in the middle of his furry chest.

“Wait a bit baby,” Sy says. “I don’t want this to be over yet.”

“It doesn’t have to be over yet, I just want to feel you.”

Sy chuckles, “While I appreciate your faith in me, ya gotta know I ain’t gonna last a single minute once you touch me.”

“So?” You lean into Sy’s neck, kissing him with soft lips. His skin makes your lips tingle from his stubbly, sultry flesh. “We’ve got all night.”

“You want me to stay the night?” Sy asks, his fingers loosen their grip on your hand, and you run your fingers through the hair across his chest.

“You did bring your bag. You want to stay, don’t you?”

He rubs at the back of his neck, “Just making sure you still want me to,” his voice is strange, weaker than normal and for the first time he struggles to meet your eyes.

“I do, Sy. But do you?”

Sy doesn’t reply, instead he grabs hold of your dress, “Take this off for me. I wanna see you.”

“If you take your pants off,” you bargain with a grin.

“Deal,” Sy says, returning your smile.

Wasting no time, Sy shimmies his boxers off. He moves so quickly you don’t get the chance to see him before he meets your lips again with his. His arms encircle your back, his hands rubbing along your spine, the heel of his palm digging deep into your muscles.

Lifting your leg over his thick thighs, you sit on his lap, just as Sy pulls down your zipper. You reach for him again, but your dress covers him.

“Wait,” Sy says, firmly. God, he sounds like he did that day when you heard him speak with the authority of his rank and your core flutters. He speaks again, softer this time and with a smirk full of torrid intent. “I wanna undress you, I wanna enjoy this.”

Heat floods you, your face and ears burn, but your arousal overtakes any anxiety you have, and you laugh softly.

“Another one of those things you thought about?” you tease.

His smile grows bigger as he almost reverently slips a finger under your thin strap and slides it down your shoulder.

“Somethin’ like that, yeah.”

Sy leans in and kisses your shoulder, first one, then the other. His teeth scrape along your collarbone, causing you to shiver. Lowly chuckling, his finger traces the edge of your neckline, his rough pad caresses the tops of your breasts.

“There’s not much I haven’t thought about,” Sy says. He sounds almost distracted, like he’s talking to himself not you. “I’ve spent days with you in my head. Thought about bein’ with you in so many ways.”

“Sy…” You barely breathe, your voice a whisper.

He looks at you, his eyes trapping yours in his heated gaze, as he suddenly fists your dress and lifts it over your head. When you see him again, his eyes are still on yours, but they are wide open and his jaw is slack.

“You’re fuckin’ naked,” Sy mutters. You bite your lip, so you don’t laugh at him, you don’t want to ruin the moment. Sy closes his eyes, smirking like a fool, and shakes his head, “I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

You can’t hold it in anymore and you burst out laughing. You feel bad and your head drops into his neck.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh,” you say.

Sy chuckles, but you can hear the embarrassment in his laugh. He mirrors your position, dipping his head unto your neck and you can feel his beard prickle your skin. His arms snake around your back, finding your spine and he traces its path with a delicate touch of his finger tips. Your body arches instinctively at the sensation and your laughter abruptly stops. When he reaches the end of your buttocks, his hands move back to your neck, and he starts again.

“You’re so responsive,” He sounds distant again as if he’s talking to himself. “I never thought…”

You wait for him to finish but he doesn’t, he just presses a kiss against your forehead. Dipping your head, you look into the space between you, glimpse him for the first time.

Big.

It’s the only word that comes into your head as you stare at him. He stands straight up, thick and long, but not grotesquely so. He honestly looks perfect, and you smile, what else did you expect? Just another thing to add to the list of reason’s why Sy is perfect.

Not perfect, no. That’s not an accurate or fair label. Although you know him well, you know there’s a lot you don’t know, and possibly will never know about him. Why did he pull away from you before he deployed? Why did he call you that first time? Why did he call you that night when he seemed on the verge of a breakdown? There was trauma, there had to be. Maybe even a sense of self-doubt, despite his confident attitude. You know that a relationship with an active member of the military won’t be easy, but for him you will try. Not perfect, no, but maybe perfect for you.

Need scorch through your veins as if they hold acid, you have to touch him, have to feel how hard and soft he is. You don’t think about it, you don’t hesitate, and you wrap your hand around the middle of his shaft, gripping him gently. He’s so husky that you might even need two hands.

Sy’s reaction is immediate and strong, gasping as his body freezes, and the arms that caressed you gently now hold your hips in a vice-like grip. He throbs in your hand, and though his skin is nearly as soft as his lips, it’s so tight around his steel-like hardness, you think it must be painful. You move your hand, slowly, more to just feel him in your palm than for his pleasure, you enjoy the silky texture of him. He’s smooth, yet veiny, and hot, so fucking hot in your grasp. You moan as you kiss his neck, and your tongue catches his sweat as it breaks over his skin.

Hands grip your neck, lifting your head and Sy’s mouth is on yours. Feverish and hungry, it feels like he’s trying to devour you, swallow you up into him. His frantic kiss spurs you on and you start to pump your hand. As quickly as his kiss begins, he breaks it just as fast to look at your hand wrapped around his cock. He utters a curse, but you barely hear his whispered word.

Then he’s looking over your body, his eyes are wild, dark, and darting as if he can’t decide where to look. His hands tighten slightly around your neck as he groans.

“Fuck, thats good baby. That’s so fuckin’ good.”

“Touch me, Sy,” you urge.

Growling, his hands grab your breasts, his mouth follows swiftly, hot, wet, and sloppy; he mouths, licks, and sucks. He presses his mouth against you so hard you begin to lean back. Sy splays a hand across your back to keep you from falling and lifts his head from your breasts. He brings his other hand to your chin and tips your forehead to his.

“You gotta stop or I’m gonna cum,” Sy says in a rough and jagged voice.

“Cum in my mouth,” you say.

“Oh shit,” Sy’s body tightens, and his hips jerk off the couch, “You really want that, baby?”

Smirking and nodding, you climb off his lap and kneel on the carpet between his legs. You keep pumping him as you crane your neck to look at him.

“Do you want me to put your cock in my mouth?” you smile coyly, like you don’t know exactly what you are doing to him. You know, you can see the effect and it’s intoxicating. Knowing that every moan is for you, every groan is because of your touch, and every growl is because he wants more of you, sends you flying.

Clenching his teeth and practically snarling, Sy says, “Baby, I want to be inside you in any way you’ll let me.”

Your jaw drops, and you ache deep in your empty core. Fuck. He knows just what to say to make you turn into liquid.

“You better open your mouth or I’m gonna cum all over your pretty face.”

Fuck.

For a second you think about letting him do just that and you’re shocked. You’ve never wanted a man to do that to you before. But this isn’t just any man, this is Sy. You want him so badly, you want him so completely, you want to give him your whole self, you want him to do things to you that you would never trust another man to do.

You look at him in your hand, so male, husky, and potent. You look up as Sy’s thighs start to tense and his abs tighten. His chest is pumping with effort, sweat makes his body glisten as it clings to his hair, his mouth is parted sucking in breath, and his brows are drawn tight together as his eyes watch your every movement.

He is stunning.

Licking your lips, you lean down over him and despite how close he is, Sy puts his hand to your cheek.

“Look at me,” Sy says. “I wanna see— Fuck!”

He stops mid word as you put him in your mouth. There’s no point in teasing him, or building him up, he’s already there. He’s tense, sweating and each breath is a gasping groan.

Your lips stretch around him and although he’s like satin in your mouth, you know your lips will be swollen tomorrow. You don’t care, you want to see him to his end, you want to give him this pleasure. Your tongue laps at him and you suck softly as you keep increasing your rhythm.

When he said he was close, you had no idea he was this near to the edge. His breathing becomes rapid, to the point where you think he might hyperventilate. Then he stops breathing altogether and his eyes go wide as his face twists with strain and he throws his head back. You feel him grow thicker and throb in your mouth, his abs contract and his hips raise off the couch as his thighs tighten, the muscles trembling under the tension.

“Oh fuck,” he says repeatedly, until he groans out your name and fills your mouth with hot jets of his release.

When he stills, you slide your lips over him one more time, capturing with your tongue any remaining come and swallow. He shivers with a chuckle, his head is still thrown back, but he reaches for you, pulling you up onto his lap. Locking you in his embrace, he brings your head to his shoulder holding you close to him and despite his obviously woozy state, he lays a few closed mouth kisses over your cheeks and lips. Then he stills and closes his eyes with a hum.