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When Harry came into your apartment, he was hit full force by the amount of clothes you had dumped onto the living room floor and couch. "Woah," he said.

"Hi," you greeted him, throwing a dress onto another pile. "Sorry. I just needed to look at everything in better lighting."

"Mhm," he said, nodding. "So, what's going on?" he asked after a second.

You finally met his eyes then. "Um, I just… I really wanna clean out my closet. I feel like my clothes suck, and I don't feel good in them. So I just want to find my style and figure out what I need to buy," you said.

He nodded some more. "What about your clothes suck?" he asked.

"I just feel like I don't look professional," you said.

"Well, you don't look professional right now," he started, and you glared at him until he continued, "but you're at home. You don't need to. Do you want to look professional all the time?"

You groaned. "You don't get it."

"You're right, I don't," he replied, taking a seat on a small uncovered area of the couch. "Sorry, I'm trying to."

You looked at him sitting on the couch, looking up at you with genuine curiosity, and your heart melted. Your shoulders slumped and tears came to your eyes. "I had a really shitty day at work today."

He frowned. "I'm sorry, baby. What happened?"

You sighed and sat down next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. "What always happens. No one there takes me seriously."

He kissed your head. "That's their problem."

You nodded, wiping a tear.

He smoothed your hair. "For what it's worth, I think you can look very professional when you want to. Some people just aren't going to give you your flowers regardless. That doesn't mean it's your fault. It means they don't know what they're missing out on."

You glanced up at him. "Thank you, Harry."

"Mhm. Can I help you put these clothes away?" he asked. "We can still go shopping if you want. Just… It looks like a bomb went off in here."

You nodded, standing up to begin collecting the items strewn all over the room. "Thank you."

He silently followed you, taking trips up and down the stairs until he met you in the bedroom with the last pile. "Do you wanna talk more about it?" he asked eventually.

You looked at him, standing in front of the bed. "No," you replied, lifting your shirt off your head.

He smiled, watching as you peeled your sweatpants off as well and walked over to him. You lifted his shirt up and undid his pants.

"I want to just be with you," you said softly as he stepped out of his jeans. He nodded, gently maneuvering you onto the bed, kissing your neck.

You lost yourself in Harry's touch, his skin, his hair, his lips. Only when he unwrapped the condom did you speak up, "Wait."

"Mm?"

You rearranged yourself to be on top. "I need this right now," you said, sliding the condom on him. He smiled up at you, gently patting his thighs as an invitation.

You settled on top of him and you both let out sighs of pent-up desire. He held out his hand to you, which you took in yours before grinding down onto him. "Jesus, baby," he managed.

You didn't let up until you both finished. By that time, his other hand cupped your breast, and the one holding yours was cramping from your death grip. You rolled over to his side and panted. "Is your hand okay?" you asked when you could speak again.

"Let's give it an hour and see," he said, grinning. He kissed your forehead. "You're amazing."

"I'm just pissed off," you brushed it off, smoothing his hair back.

"And amazing," he tacked on. He stood up after a bit to stretch.

"Harry, you're gonna make me pin you down again," you said, looking up at him from the bed.

"Who says I'd complain?" he replied. "One sec," he said, going into the bathroom before you could pounce on him again.

You laid silently on the bed, realizing you should use the bathroom once he was done to avoid any problems. You grabbed your phone, scrolling to find inspiration for dinner.

When Harry came out of the bathroom, he must've been reading your mind. "What do you want for dinner?" he asked.

"Mm, I don't know. Let me pee," you replied, going into the bathroom. You came out of the restroom to find him scrolling now. "Any thoughts?"

"I'm thinking I need better manners," he said.

"What?" you asked, utterly confused.

He locked his phone and looked at you. "You should get to pee first," he said.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh my God, Harry. Not a big deal. What's for dinner?"

He sighed. "I want Thai. Which place do you want?" You ordered dinner and waited, scrolling on your phones and playing footsie. "So."

You glanced at him. "So?"

"What happened at work today?" he asked.

You rolled your eyes. "I told you. Same bullshit. It's not a big deal."

He stared at you for a moment. "It's a big deal if it makes you this upset," he said.

You sighed. "Just the story of my fucking life is all. I try to do my job, and I get bulldozed. It's shit. Trust me, I'll spare you the details," you elaborated.

He nodded. "Is it that same guy?" he asked, remembering you complaining about one coworker in particular lately.

"It's all of them," you said. "No one stands up for me. No one stands up for each other, actually. It's a sham of a team." You shut your eyes. "I need to keep applying."

He paused. "How much longer do you think you can take?" he asked.

"I mean, I'm gonna have to stay until I get a new job," you said. "My lease isn't up until next year. I can't afford rent without my paychecks."

He drummed his fingers on the bed. "Promise you won't get mad?"

"What?"

He sat up. "You should just quit. I hate seeing you so unhappy."

"H, I just said--"

"Fuck that. I'll pay your rent," he interrupted you. "I mean, what are we talking about here? Why should you stay somewhere that makes you miserable if I can help?" he asked.

You pouted. "Harry, that is very nice of you to offer, but--"

"No," he said, standing up then. "No, really. Think about it. This is out of control. It'll just buy you some time before you find a new job. What's the point of being unhappy?" he asked.

You looked up at him. "I… I couldn't. I mean… We're boyfriend and girlfriend, okay. But this is… This is like what a married couple would do for each other. Your money isn't mine," you said.

It was quiet for a second. You only began dating officially a month ago. You hadn't even told each other "I love you" yet. Harry was just that open-hearted towards you.

"But I want to," he said. "Just think about it, okay? We don't have to argue about it. Just think about it for a couple days, and let me know."

You nodded, agreeing. "Okay. I will."

He sat back down on the bed. "Thank you. Because no matter how good the sex is… If you're not happy, I'm not happy."

You smiled then. He always knew how to make you laugh.

"We can just ragebait you with Fox News or something. We'll figure it out," he continued, riffing.

You cackled. "How can you make my shitty day so much better?" you asked him.

He shrugged. "I try."

You kissed him. "You succeed. Thank you, H."

"Y/N, what do you think you'll get?" your friend asked you, nudging your elbow.

You paused under the neon lighting of the tattoo parlor. Avoiding your friend's eye, you glanced down at the 9x11 of cartoon designs, although a certain one did stand out. "Oh, I don't think I'll get anything," you replied.

"No?" someone else asked, and now the entire bachelorette party was listening in.

You sighed. It wasn't that you didn't want a tattoo, persay. Let's just say that this very topic came up between you and Harry recently, and you didn't want to bring home anything he wouldn't be elated about.

It was no secret that your boyfriend was a ripped 40-year-old with loads of tattoos. The secret was that Harry ultimately regretted a lot of his ink. He told you about it last week over dinner; that if he could go back in time, he might not have gotten any tattoos. It wasn't to the point that he'd consider removing them, but he just wasn't thrilled with them anymore. He wished he'd thought it about it more at the time.

He finished sharing and elaborated that he absolutely loved your skin, and was jealous of your blank canvas. You didn't reply, simply musing on what he'd just shared with you.

Later in bed, you told him that, for what it was worth, you found his tattoos super sexy. He grinned, but the expression in his eyes told you he still regretted them.

And two weeks later, here you were in Nashville, oogling really stupid tattoos that you probably will regret later on.

You turned to your friend. "I don't know… I kinda like this cowboy hat, but I don't know what Harry would think." You pointed to the simple design.

"Why does it matter what he would think? As long as you like it," she replied, which you knew was right. His words still rang in your head, though.

But everyone else was getting tattoos, and you knew if you didn't do it now, you never would. Needless to say, you bit the bullet and got the cowboy hat on your hip.

On the flight back, you began to get nervous. It wasn't that Harry would be genuinely mad at you, but you knew it took a lot for him to open up and share, and it's almost like you threw it in the trash. You just wish the conversation hadn't happened so recently.

You got off the flight and went to the airport bathroom, sneaking a peak at your tattoo under your shirt. Thankfully, 48 hours later, you could still say you liked the tattoo you got on Broadway. Explaining it to your man was another thing.

He picked you up as always, asking you all about the trip and updating you on his week as well as his daughters'. Your stomach twisted a little - you distinctly remember Harry saying that he would never want his daughters to get a silly tattoo. Would he be mad at you for being a poor example?

You got settled at the house, taking a shower and resting on the couch. Harry made you dinner and snuggled with you, watching TV. His hand trailed to your thigh, and you squirmed, afraid he'd somehow adjust your clothing and see the ink. His eyebrows shot up. "You good?"

"Y-Yeah," you said, nodding. "Sorry. Just tired."

He nodded. "Okay."

Your phone started buzzing with updates of people getting home from longer flights, and even commiserating about sore tattoos. You scrolled through the group chat, shaking your head until your friend sent a picture of her new ink. You flinched, quickly locking your phone and putting it away.

"You sure?" Harry asked.

"Mhm."

You and Harry eventually retired upstairs and got ready for bed. Only now, you waited for him to use the master bath before changing into pajamas. You also picked a T-shirt rather than your typical sports bra to wear to sleep. You just wanted to tell him about the tattoo when the time was right.

You used the bathroom after him and got into bed next to him. Your phone still buzzed with messages, and you silenced it. "Sorry about that," you said quietly.

"Y/N."

"Hm?"

"Is there anything you need to tell me about this trip?" he asked.

"Um…" You trailed.

"If you need to tell me something, I'd rather you just say it," he said, his features stone cold. Did he catch a glimpse of the tattoo somehow? Maybe he saw what your friends were texting about when you idiotically left your phone in the bedroom.

"I'm really sorry," you gushed. "I just wasn't thinking. I know you said--"

"Fuck, Y/N," he interrupted you, standing up.

"Well, wait," you said. "You haven't even seen it yet. Or have you?"

He paused.

You lifted your sleep shirt to show the tattoo on your hip. Looking at it now, it was so tiny. You looked back up at him. "I… I know you said you regret yours, but it's not like I'm gonna go crazy with them or anything. Everyone was getting one. Which I know is stupid to say, like, if they all jumped off a bridge, would I? But, it was just for fun. And it's not like anyone can even see it. If you hate it, I'm sorry. I know you opened up to me, and I was listening. Just… I'm me. You're you. And if I regret it, I'll tell you, and you can totally say you told me so," you rambled.

He blinked his eyes slowly. "It's a little cowboy hat."

"Yeah, I know. It's stupid," you murmured.

"It is stupid, but whatever," he said, shrugging. He rejoined you on the bed. "Did it hurt?"

You shrugged. "A little. Did your leaves hurt?"

"Yeah, cause they're huge. Yours is tiny."

You grinned, biting your lip. "You aren't mad?" you asked.

"Baby," he said, shaking his head.

"I know. I just… It's just bad timing is all," you said.

"I get it. It is kinda awkward. But no, I'm not mad at you. It's cute. I'm glad you had fun with your friends," he said.

"So, wait," you said, rethinking your conversation.

"Hm?"

"What were you mad about?" you asked. "Why did you get out of bed?"

He cleared his throat. "If your cowboy hat tattoo is stupid, get ready to hear really stupid," he prefaced. "I don't know… You weren't super responsive to your phone while you were away, which I get. It's just usually, you text me all day. I honestly wasn't suspicious til you got home and were still quiet," he began.

"Suspicious?" you asked.

"You didn't want me to touch you downstairs, when normally a weekend apart has you reeling. I know I am, but I'd never pressure you. Regardless, though… Then you're hiding your phone and not changing in front of me…" he trailed.

"Did… Did you think I cheated on you?" you asked.

"A little."

You gaped. "Harry!"

"I know. I said it was really stupid," he replied.

"It is really stupid," you agreed. "Although when you say all that stuff, I get it. I'm sorry. Let's just call it a wash," you said, relaxing into bed with him.

"For the record, I'm sorry," Harry said after a beat of silence. "Sorry for thinking that you'd cheat, and sorry for giving you the impression I'd be mad if you got a tattoo."

"I knew you wouldn't be actually mad. I just didn't know what you'd think," you allowed. "Harry, you have to know that I'd never cheat on you, though."

He nodded.

"I didn't even have guys on my radar this weekend. I was with my girls. You're the only guy in my life. And, ironically, it doesn't hurt that you're the tattooed daddy of my dreams," you said, kissing his cheek.

"Now that's something to get tattooed," he murmured.

You giggled. "Tattooed daddy of Y/N's dreams?"

"Yeah. On my forehead."

You kissed it for good measure. "I love you, Daddy. I'm just tired. You can give it to me tomorrow, okay?"

He rubbed your bum. "Mhm. I'd never want to pressure you, babydoll. Just everything added up…"

You nodded. "I know."

He kissed your forehead in return. "I love you, too."

October cooled into November, and you were seriously beginning to get cold at night.

“Sid?” you asked him.

“Y/N?” He looked at you and realized your teeth were chattering. “Jesus, come here,” he allowed, and you moved into him, glad he offered before you dared to ask.

Since desperate times called for desperate measures, and you honestly had been dreaming about it for weeks, you wasted no time shoving your face into the crook of his neck. You reddened at the involuntary sound of pleasure that escaped your lips and pretended he couldn’t have heard it.

Minutes passed before his hands found yours, his thumbs running over your knuckles. You sighed into his neck at the comfort until he began kneading them a little clumsily. “Ouch,” you murmured.

“They’re cold,” he said. Great, so he could totally hear you. There goes that facade.

You looked at him and blinked at one another for a moment. He was impossible to read, so here goes nothing.

You pulled your hands away from his and slowly but surely moved them underneath his shirt so they rested on his abs. You maintained eye contact with him the entire time.

“That warm?” he asked quietly.

You nodded.

He cleared his throat. “Good.”

Neither of you dared to shut your eyes. “You can kiss me,” you whispered. “If you want.”

He leaned in immediately to peck your lips with his. You took his hands and placed them underneath your shirt. Minutes of lazily groping and making out later, you panted, “I know what can make us warm.”

He pulled his hands away. “No,” he said firmly.

“No?” You asked, frowning.

“You think I haven’t wanted this for weeks?” he asked rhetorically, making you feel significantly less delusional about the tension that had been building between you both. “If you get pregnant… We’re fucked.”

“Just pull out,” you replied simply.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, because that has an amazing contraceptive success rate,” he said sarcastically.

“Did you just say the words ‘contraceptive success rate’ during the fucking apocalypse?” you asked.

“Yeah, I did. You can’t get pregnant, Y/N. You cannot,” he repeated.

“We can do… other stuff,” you said, planning to convince him more later.

“I don’t wanna tempt myself,” he said, shaking his head.

You flipped around so you didn’t face him.

He kissed the top of your head. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Sidney.”

He must’ve wrapped his arm around your waist overnight. His morning wood rested on your ass cheek, just as God intended. You took his hand and placed it on your breast and began touching yourself, grinding your ass on his dick. “Sidney, yeah,” your moaned. He groaned into your ear, signaling you’d woken him up. “Baby, fuck,” he rasped, the pet name spurring you on.

“Fuck me,” you whispered, beginning to turn around.

“No,” he reiterated, keeping you pinned facing away from him by reaching his hand down between your legs. He helped you set a rhythm on your clit before entering two digits inside you.

“Oh, Sid, yes!” You panted, climaxing. You rested against his shoulder again when you came back down and realized he hadn’t finished. You flipped around, kissing him. “Let me suck you off,” you said, climbing down him already.

He stood. “No, I’ll… I’ll go take care of myself.”

You stared up at him. You never knew a man to resist a blowjob. “Come on. I can…” you trailed, shrugging.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t worry about breakfast, I’ve got it. Just lay back down and try to keep warm.”

You eyed him quizzically before he left to apparently beat off in the woods alone instead of getting sucked off by you.

The rest of the day was quiet, to say the least. You didn’t know if he was mad at you; if in your horny craze you somehow overstepped a boundary or made him uncomfortable. All you knew for certain is that Sidney Crosby did not want to fuck you. He didn’t even want a blowjob from you. Nearly a month spent with this man, and he was determined to not be attracted to you.

You couldn’t deny that your ego was bruised. You had developed quite a crush over the past few weeks. He said he wanted you too last night, but his actions proved differently. Sure, he said he was worried about getting you pregnant, so why not just accept the fucking blowjob?

You were eating dinner in silence when it happened. A yell. “Hello?” You immediately looked at each other, panic and excitement evident in your eyes.

“Is anyone out there?” The voice was getting closer.

Sidney placed his hand on your arm. “Hide,” he instructed you. “I’ll come get you. I promise.”

However perplexed and rejected he made you feel this morning, you had learned to trust his judgment. You asked no questions, simply bolted in the opposite direction of the voice and found a tree to hide behind. You crouched down and kept an eye on your surroundings.

About an hour passed before you heard Sidney call, “Y/N?”

You stood up, moving away from the tree. “Sid, I’m here,” you called back, rotating until you found him looking at you ten yards away.

He smiled at you. “Good hiding spot, hon,” he said, which was new, as he approached you. He’d never used a pet name with you with the exception of your fooling around this morning. “There’s a shelter,” he shared simply. “It’s about ten adults, five kids. Two women are pregnant. I think… I can’t say for certain, of course, but I think this may be a group worth joining.”

You furrowed your brow. “What makes you think that?” you asked.

You had no idea he would even consider joining a group of people. You thought you and he made a pretty good team until last night. “I mean, it’s gonna get a lot colder than last night was,” he said, and your stomach twisted. He saw your face fall. “Y/N—“ he began.

“I trust you,” you interrupted him, not wanting to hear his bullshit excuse for whatever this morning was. “Let’s… Let’s at least scope it out.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” he agreed. “They’re friendly towards me, but I wanna make sure you’re comfortable as well. We’re a team, right?” He asked you.

You nodded, “Yeah.”

“Will you come inside with me? And then we’ll take a couple days and just think it over?” He asked.

“Sounds like a plan.”

It was extremely evident that these ten adults and five children absolutely knew who Sidney Crosby was, and the idea of having him join their makeshift apocalypse commune was a dream come true. You were just an accessory, someone they’d be willing to feed and house if the superstar demanded it, which he did.

One woman in particular was all over Sid. It was borderline embarrassing. It was to the point that the other women were eyeing you to see if you’d start a cat fight or something, but he’d made it clear you had no claim over him. You just sat there and watched him lap up the attention of this rando when he had so adamantly denied your affection this morning.

Nightfall came, and it was time to leave. You could tell that you had overstayed your welcome. The children were tired, and mothers were eyeing you suspiciously. Eventually, Sid got the hint too and escorted you out of the camp. The men graciously offered you to stay, but thankfully Sidney was mindful that you might not be comfortable with that, especially given there was currently nowhere private for you to sleep.

You walked out of the shelter and turned to look at Sid to gauge his thoughts. He spoke first. “So? What do you think? I think it’s definitely worth considering.”

“Yeah, I mean, maybe you could get a new girlfriend and I can just be the maid,” you sarcastically replied. “That’d be a really easy way to get rid of me, hm?” You asked.

He exhaled shakily. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” He asked you.

“Why don’t you just leave me out here since I’m so crazy?” You asked, wiping tears.

“I’m obviously not going to do that,” he contradicted.

“Oh right, because I’m such a lost cause. You couldn’t have that on your conscience,” you continued.

“Why don’t we fall asleep and talk about this tomorrow?” He asked you.

“No one even talked to me the whole time,” you cried. “And that includes you! You spent the entire time giggling with that woman. Is she really that much better than me? You’ve known her what, two hours?” You asked.

“Y/N,” he spoke slowly. “We’ve been out here by ourselves for a month. I’m sorry that I wanted to socialize with other adults.”

You sniffled, wiping your nose. “I at least thought we were friends,” you said quietly before following his instruction, laying down and shutting your eyes.

The next morning, you were shivering. You turned over to find Sidney staring at you. You wiped your eyes, having cried yourself to sleep. You were a big baby, but he knew that anyhow. It was probably part of why he didn’t like you.

He moved over to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. You laid still for a moment before his lips began leaving kisses all over your face and neck. You began to cry again. “Sidney—“

“So beautiful when you cry, but that doesn’t mean I like it,” he mumbled, kissing your lips again. He held you to himself as he rolled both of you over so he was overtop of you. He pushed his hands under your shirt. “Love these tits,” he remarked, lifting your shirt over your head. He kissed your collarbones before latching onto your right nipple. He spent some time on both your breasts before resurfacing to your face. “Hi, hon.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, smiling. “Hi.”

He kissed your cheek. “Can I go down?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you replied, which was true.

He wiggled your jeans down and nestled his face by your panties. “Fuck, you smell amazing.”

“I haven’t showered in a month.”

“Me neither, baby. You smell like you’ve been waiting a month for this,” he said, pulling your panties down before eagerly lapping at you.

“Oh, God—“ you moaned.

“Hush, hon. We didn’t go that far from camp,” he reminded you.

“I want that bitch to hear me,” you replied.

He smirked. “You’re fucking crazy, and I love it.”

You came, he came, and then you rested in his arms, warmer than you’d been since the beginning of this mess. “I told you this would keep us warm,” you said.

He kissed your shoulder. “You did.”

“I’m sorry I’m so fucking crazy,” you said after a moment. “I just finished my period, so I think I’m like, revved up. Especially after a month of being with you without, you know, that,” you said.

“Don’t apologize. When you said last night you at least thought we were friends… I had no idea how I’d made you feel. Thinking back, I get it. I want you to know… I love you, Y/N. I love your crazy ass.”

You kissed him. “I love you, too. I love your incredibly normal and well-prepared ass.”

“One more thing. I do think we should still see about the group. But if they make you uncomfortable, it’s a no. We can build something like that. I was checking it out last night. It’d take awhile, but we can do it,” he said.

“If we can build our own shelter, I can suck your dick whenever you want,” you whispered.

“Done deal.”

You laughed, crinkling your nose and leaning into him. “Okay, well then I have one more thing.”

“Hm?”

“I’ve been tracking my cycle… And in like two weeks, I’ll be infertile. Will you fuck me then?” you asked him, batting your eyelashes shamelessly.

alternatively stuck with you by Ariana grande and Justin Bieber

Three days into the most snow Pittsburgh had seen in fifteen years, you were starting to go stir crazy. Although the roads were mostly clear at this point, you couldn’t bring yourself to drive when you didn’t need to.

Sidney, on the other hand, was thriving. It was like his normal life, except less pressure to ignore his training schedule in pursuit of other time sucks. He would wake up, use the home gym, stretch, shower, read, use the treadmill, make dinner, watch TV with you, make love to you, fall asleep, and do it all over again the next day. He’d yet to complain.

On your third night of eating from the same grocery run, you sighed into your chili bowl. “Hm?” Sidney could miss social cues, but he had learned yours and especially picked up on your sighs.

You looked up at him. “Nothing. This is starting to feel like Groundhog Day.”

He shrugged. “What more could you want? Nothing to do, no plans to make, no people to avoid…” he trailed.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “An extrovert’s nightmare,” you deadpanned.

He gaped a little in realization that these things were not as pleasant to you. “I thought you were enjoying your book.”

“I am, but I can enjoy my book on any day. I typically read before bed no matter what,” you countered. “Anyway, what can we do to make tonight different?” you asked.

He drummed his fingers on the table. “Did we ever unpack our board games?”

So you spent the evening in a tournament to the death with the most competitive man you’d ever met who just so happened to also be the love of your life. You won Scrabble, Trivial Pursuit, and Boggle. He won Monopoly and Jenga.

“Monopoly definitely counts as more than one point,” he argued. You didn’t disagree. You learned to pick your battles when it came to Sid.

Monopoly ended up taking longer than expected as it tends to. As you cleaned up the game, you realized the time and yawned. “Oh my gosh. It’s way past your bedtime, Sid. I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

He shook his head. “Worth it.” It was a second before he added, “Now I can head to the Olympics with a fresh Monopoly victory under my belt.”

You smiled at him, knowing there was a small part of him that was not kidding. “Let’s go, champ.”

You brushed your teeth and made your way to bed. You rested on the pillow immediately. You were ahead in your book anyhow, and it was time to sleep.

“I didn’t think tonight was gonna be that different,” Sid said softly, nudging your arm.

You giggled. The previous two nights, you fooled around in bed, soaking in this time together. You teasingly opened one eye. “You aren’t sleepy?” you asked.

“I’m never too sleepy for you,” he murmured, trailing his hand down your side. “C’mon, baby. Real quick?”

You nodded, rolling over onto your back so he could lay on top of you.

He eagerly latched his lips to your neck and moved your sleep shorts out of the way to work on you. This love was slow and heated all at once. By the time you tugged his boxers down, your neck was slick and raw from hickeys being reignited.

He pushed into you and took his time dragging out and re-entering again, making sure to languidly use all of himself with each thrust. “Wanna know,” he uttered in your ear, “why I fuck you like this before bed?”

“Hm,” you replied as your way of urging him to continue while chasing your high.

“I want you to feel me in the morning,” he answered his own question.

You sighed blissfully, bringing your lips to his sloppily before crashing seconds later. You panted against his shoulder while he finished. “Some things never get old,” you whispered, kissing his shoulder gently.

“Mm,” he agreed, pushing his hands underneath your sleep shirt to caress what he hadn’t earlier.

He kissed your forehead after a bit, rolling to your side. “You okay being stuck here with me?” he asked.

You opened your eyes and nodded. “More than okay.”

He waited a beat. “I know you get restless, I just… I’m kinda glad this happened this way. Before I head out for the Olympics.”

You pushed your finger into his bicep. “Are you forgetting that I’ll be there?” you asked.

He shook his head. “You’ll be there, but like… It’s not gonna be like an off-season vacation. I’m there to win.”

You nodded. “I know,” you agreed then, seeing his point. “Maybe we go back during the off-season?” you suggested.

“I like that,” he said, smiling. “Scope it out for me, okay? That’s your job.”

“That I can do,” you assured him. “You focus on bringing home some more gold.”