Together. Forever.

i also think he’d learn almost all of your habits (to add onto his suspicion of him being creepy with you 😔) he’d noticed you were most beat in the middle of the day—which he learned from catching sight of you after second period with slumped shoulders and eyes you could barely keep open. you liked spending your free period's alone—which he noticed one time when he kept trying to amp himself up to go inside to ask you for a stapler. you had told him he was the 'exception' when he asked you if you would've preferred to be left alone and he got dizzy. also noticed how you take care of your classroom and supplies. there would be paint flecks on the tables and the sinks full of muddy-colored water by the end of the day, your storage closet full of drying clay projects and half-open paint jars. he loved your classroom most like that, and liked how you let it be until the next morning when you began to clean everything up for a new day. that's why you would always be one of the firsts in the building, he finally learned.

he would gradually begin to spend as much time in your classroom as he could, just popping in two or three times a day to ask for things he definitely already had in his classroom. how could he not when you always gave him an eager "of course" and immediately jumped to help him? it definitely got to the point of it not being discreet at all. you'd mention to him how your students had told you that "mr. grace talks about your class a lot" or "mr. grace told us we'd learn about this!", with a gentle "you mention my class a lot?"

he'd try to diffuse and play it off, telling you "not that I talk about— I mean, I'm just familiar with a lot of... lesson plans..."

you'd say a small "okay" with a smile that made his heart flutter and he felt relieved you found it funny instead of creepy. he knew he wasn't being subtle about his interest in you at all, but at least you weren't completely shutting him down.

you’d always been a safe ground for him, and it’s easy for him to get too into you when he’s calm. nothing would be in his mind but you and the way you gave that ragged laugh when he stared at you like you hung the stars. the dazed look in his eyes would always reveal what he was thinking. well, that and the way he’d trail kisses down your neck. more mouthing and licking than pressing his lips to your heated skin.

he was too messy when he was like this, not that you minded. always dragging a stripe up your stomach with his tongue when he knelt between your legs, your arousal spreading all over his five o’clock shadow when he made out with your cunt. your pants and moans only encouraged him. he’s never felt this light, tasting heaven and listening to your noises, he could die happy here. you have to push his head away when you finally cum, too lost in your essence to even realize he already got you past that point.

it was a funny sight, ryland, usually so jittery and tense, so composed and controlled, staring at you with half-lidded eyes and his chin glistening with you. he was starved for you, leaning into whatever touch you offered him before he pulled himself back over you.

the night would end with him pressing you against the mattress, kissing you clumsily as he softly whimpered against you. his hand would tangle in your hair, unaware of how tightly he’s gripping the strands while his hips continued to thrust into you. soft mumbles of “you feel so good,” or “that’s the spot? right there?” would tumble from his lips every time he watched your brows knit together or legs wrap around his waist.

if it was, he (un)surprisingly did not take advantage of it. the days he had spent brainstorming the project were only filled with him trying to distract himself from your proximity and trying to get back to the safety of his solidarity the moment it had been over. he never regretted something more.

and that’s why he was here. new year. new classrooms. new students. it had been a little early in the year, school just began three months ago, your project wouldn’t happen again until second semester, but he wanted to get ahead of it, share some new ideas with you, and maybe… finally be able to talk to you. outside of the classroom.

ryland has paced the entirety of the hallway for the fifth time now. his hands were clammy, he was fidgety. constantly rearranging his tie, fixing the way his glasses sat on his nose, or adjusting his hair in the reflection of the small window on his classroom door. it was a silly thing to be stressed about, you. what was he expecting, for you to bite off his head and tell him to leave? his worry was irrational, you weren’t that type of person… he hopes you weren’t.

he told himself this was the day he was going into your classroom to ask you about it. he had tried earlier today during his free period, but he got jittery halfway through and sped past your classroom door to make his way to the bathroom. he tried again a few minutes later, only to do the same thing and head towards the teacher’s lounge instead.

but now, the eight graders were at recess and the second floor was silent, for once. he completed his sixth walk down the hallway now, eyes fleeting towards his watch for the umpteenth time. recess was over in ten minutes, the conversation would last at most five minutes. he swallowed, rubbing his hands over his face before finally making his way to your classroom. “you’re a teacher,” he muttered to himself. “you talk for a living. this is the same thing.”

he stopped at the door, hand hesitant as it moved between wrapping itself around the doorknob and falling back to his side. “…this is not the same thing.” still, he finally decided to let out a breath and open your door with a soft knock. he stepped in and saw how your head perked up at the sound, a small smile on your face as you greeted him. Oh God, you looked like moonlight. Why did you have to look so nice today? Right now?

“hey,” he said sheepishly as he hovered near your desk, unsure what to do with himself. “i, uh..” he cleared his throat, looking at your expecting eyes. did you think he was making a fool of himself? “i was just wondering about the project, y’know, the… thing.”

he mentally berated himself. the thing? seriously? “i wanted to know if you ever wanted to meet up some time, outside of school… just— to talk about the project! nothing else.”

…if you didn’t think he was a fool then, you definitely did now.

if you did, you definitely didn’t show it. you just gave him a small smile and nodded, telling him a “that would be great.” he’s sure he accidentally scheduled a time to meet with you during one of his grading times, but he doesn’t know how he was expected to focus when your eyes glimmered under the schools lights.

you settled on a coffee shop two blocks away from the school after work on friday, and he had to stop himself from grinning until his cheeks hurt. he bid you a small goodbye before walking out your classroom, closing your door with a soft click before punching his fist in the air, practically skipping back to his classroom.

but that was before you had slipped back into his passenger seat, still laughing over a joke he forgot he told. your eyes bright under the streetlamp, your lips glossed over with a soft pink like an invitation he forced himself to deny.

he couldn’t even remember the ride back to campus. he didn’t remember the songs playing, all the turns he missed. all he can recall was your hand interlocked with his over the center console, the way you bit the inside of your cheek whenever he made you laugh, the faint scent of your perfume hitting his nose each time the wind blew through the open windows.

he turned off the ignition when you both finally arrived at the parking lot, the keys jingling in his hand as he fidgeted. he looked over at you, ready to say something polite, maybe something else that would’ve made you blush, but when you looked at him, it was over.

before he knew what was happening, he was leaning over the console, his hand cupping the side of your neck like he’d been dying for the proximity all night. you met him halfway, lips soft, warm, and open before he even asked.

it deepened fast, almost too fast, like you both have been waiting for this moment since the first night out, and he silently cursed himself in that moment for ever wanting to play the long game.

his fingers slipped into your hair without thinking, your hand moved to grip the collar of his white button-up. your teeth grazed his bottom lip, just barley, and he moaned into your mouth without meaning to, hips shifting in the driver seat as he tried not finish right then and there.

his hand dropped to your thigh, fingers digging into your flesh. he didn’t mean to go higher, he really didn’t. but your dress hiked up and your breath hitched when you felt his hand reach your inner thigh. that was when he pulled back, just barley. his pupils blown and breath shaky.

“okay,” he whispered, more to himself than you. “okay, i… i should walk you in.”

you nodded, but he could only focus on your kiss-swollen lips, your eyes wide as you stared at him like you were expecting something else. he wanted to give in, close the distance and take you right there in the passenger seat, but he tried to remind himself that he had a plan for the night. he promised to be decent, wait until you asked him to come back to your dorm. he wanted to appreciate you in full for the first time you did anything more.

“can i…” he cleared his throat, his hand squeezing your thigh. “can i walk you up?”

you nodded and he let out a breath, getting out the car and adjusting his jeans before beginning to walk to your side to open the door. his hand rested on the small of your back as you both walked through campus all the way to your residence hall.

you’d given him a small smile, thanked him for dinner and he had to act like he wasn’t hoping for you to ask him to come to your dorm. still, he smiled at you, even though his heart was pounding.

Especially when he was with you, you’d think he crafted the universe with his bare hands by the way you looked at him. The way you held him like he was made of glass, like he was something worth keeping.

And he hated it, at first. Hated how you handled him like something precious. How you looked at him with soft eyes instead of scared ones. He hated how every time you kissed him, it felt like it was the last time you’d ever be able to. He could never escape his circumstances, never allow himself to imagine how easy life might be with you. He despises that he gets to be loud about every other part of his life, except the one that matters most.

He would be, if you’d let him. He’d hold you close when you walked down the street. He’d take you to the local diner and smirk whenever someone saw you and realized you were his. He’d bring you to a drive-in and kiss you stupid in the front seats of his busted car. He’d help you get ready for a dance and sway with you in the middle of the floor. And his heart aches when he realizes he’ll never have you in that way.

Instead, he’s forced to see you only in the dark corners of an alley, in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town, in your bedroom after sneaking up to your window—like you’re a secret he doesn’t have to explain if he keeps you hidden. A star forced to hide in the shadows.

It’s mostly your decision to keep it quiet, a logical one. With your brother being a Shark—Luis, if Riff remembers correctly—there’s no possible way you could be with Riff freely. Especially not in this neighborhood, where people who look like him would treat you like the dirt on their shoes. And you force yourself to take it. Who knows what could happen to your family if you acted out in the wrong place, at the wrong time? You don’t even want to imagine what it would look like between Luis and Riff if he ever found out.

You’ve already gotten a taste of the gangs’ rivalry tonight at the Dog Days Dance, and that was supposed to be a chance to get along. But you didn’t expect much from boys who fight like animals.

You hadn’t planned on going at first, but Riff had his ways of persuading you.

“C’mon, girly,” he’d drawled, his calloused hands sliding up your arms. You remember trying to bite back a smile.

“You don’t gotta stay long. Jus’ wanna see you all dolled up, havin’ fun. Then you can give me a dance ‘fore you leave.”

But he’d failed to mention that he was bringing a date. Graziella. Gorgeous, in a vibrant blue dress that complemented her blonde curls. A laugh like bell chimes. Eyes like emeralds. It stung, having to stand on the opposite side of the gym and watch Riff twirl a girl he wouldn’t be shamed for. To pretend you didn’t suddenly hate your complexion. You didn’t stay for the dance you promised him.

Nights like this were always cruel. The gods dangling a pearl just out of your reach, something you weren’t allowed to hold, only ached for. As if you could ever stop wanting the one thing that made you feel whole. You hadn’t noticed the tears until you were in your room, undressing, tasting them on your lips. The dress was velvet, soft like rose petals, glowing under the lights when you spun. You wore it for that reason. You wore it for him.

Now it was thrown over your laundry basket as you lay in bed, like the whole night had meant nothing. Your eyes were finally starting to dry, the faint street noises outside beginning to lull you toward sleep. You almost let yourself drift off until you heard a knock at your window. Soft, but loud enough to get your attention. You didn’t need to guess who it was.

You stayed still for a moment, debating whether you wanted to face Riff again tonight. But your body moved before your mind caught up, and before you knew it, you were on your feet. You glanced in the mirror, wiped away the remnants of your tears, and made your way to the window. You exhaled heavily before parting the curtains.

And there he was, standing on the fire escape. Still dressed from earlier, hair slicked back, blue shirt matching his eyes. You hated how badly you wanted to kiss him at that moment.

You sighed, pushing up the window. The cool summer breeze raised goosebumps on your skin. Riff was already starting to climb in when you stepped in his way. His brows furrowed, eyes narrowing slightly as if you had offended him. Not mad, just surprised. Like he had expected a smile and hug instead.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His expression dropped into something duller, worn-in. “You gonna play this game again, girly?”

“No estoy jugando. Go away before someone sees you.” Your voice stayed firm, even as your chest tightened. You didn’t move.

He scoffed, but it didn’t have its usual bite. “Ain’t nobody saw me. I was careful, yeah?” He paused. “Just wanted to see you. Got somethin’ I gotta say.” He added, his voice quiet.

“Riff—” you warned, but he was already climbing the rest of the way in.

“I gotta talk to you,” he said, voice low but firm. He wasn’t pleading or asking. Just telling you.

You stared at him for a moment. Then, with a sigh, stepped aside. He moved past you into your room, eyes adjusting to the soft glow of candlelight. It was dark enough to keep the worst of you hidden. You stayed near the shadows. Far from the moonlight.

His gaze flickered around your room, analyzing the lit candles, your slept-in bed, and the books on your shelf. It smelled like lavender and warmth. Safe. Yours.

He stood in the middle of the room, looking almost out of place.

“Where’d you go?”

You didn’t answer.

“At the dance,” he added, like you’d somehow forgotten. “You disappeared. Didn’t even say goodbye.”

You let out a short and bitter laugh, the type that didn’t reach your eyes.

“When were you planning to say it, huh? After you were done… doing whatever it was you were doing with your little date?”

He blinked, caught off guard. You could almost see the words trying to make sense in his head.

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“¿Qué crees?” Your tone sharpened, frustration bubbling in your chest. “Maybe in the dark corner where no one would see us again?” Your voice cracked towards the end despite your best efforts. Damn it. You turned your face, as if hiding could stop your lip from quivering.

He stilled at the sound. Said your name softly. The way he only ever said it when no one else was around. When the city was quiet and his guard was down. Like it was something precious.

You shook your head, trying to keep that wall up as the tears burned at the corners of your eyes. You felt stupid. Weak.

“I’m tired of this, Riff. Ya no lo puedo aguantar.”

“I know.”

“No—” You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hold it together. Your voice could barely push the words out. “You don’t know what it’s like. Nunca lo vas a entender.”

He looked at you like he was trying to solve something he didn’t have the pieces for. “You know I try—”

“Do you?”

The air thickened between you. His jaw tightened. “‘Course I do. You think I like livin’ like this?”

“You don’t mind it when you’re running around with your little gang,” You shot back. “No te da ni un carajo cuando ellos lo hacen. You let them say what they want.”

“That ain’t on me,” he snapped. “I can’t control what they think or say—”

“Aren’t you their leader?”

That made him pause. The silence stretched. You saw it in his eyes, the moment when all his excuses left him.

“You think I want it to be like this?” he finally asked, quieter now, less sure. “You think I ain’t tried to make ‘em see different? They’ve been like that way before I ever met you. It ain’t about you.”

Your brows pinched together when you looked at him, at the tiredness in his face, the way he kept fidgeting like he didn’t know what to do with his hands if they weren’t holding you.

“It feels like it.”

He looked at you, like he was finally seeing what all of it had cost you, and something in him softened. His voice dropped.

“I’m sorry. I mean that. I’m sorry I can’t change ‘em. But you gotta know I ain’t like them, alright? I don’t think like that. I don’t feel like that.”

He took a step closer, slow and deliberate. Like one wrong move might shatter whatever thread still held you in place. You didn’t back away, but your throat closed up. You felt helpless, stripped bare in front of him, and still unsure if he could see you.

“…I love you. You know that.” His voice barely cracked above a whisper, but it landed heavy. And he meant it. That was the one thing you never questioned.

“And I wanna give you everything, doll. You deserve it all…” He breathed out, like it physically hurt to say. “But I don’t wanna lose you.”

You sniffled, eyes glossing as your brows drew together. You didn’t know what to do with that; it didn't feel like enough. It had started to feel like a reflex, accepting whatever scraps he gave you just to have something.

You swallowed hard. “No lo podía aguantar, viéndote con ella.”

He blinked, head tilting. “...What does that mean?”

You rubbed at your eye, not even trying to hide the crack in your voice anymore. “I couldn’t stay there and watch you with her. So I left.”

He blinked. Like it hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“That’s what this is about?” He stepped in, tone teetering between relief and disbelief. “You know I don’t feel nothin’ for Grazi, right?”

“No, that’s not—” You cut yourself off, throat closing up. You tried again. “Just standing there. Seeing you with someone like her, someone you deserve to be with—”

“Don’t start that.”

“Someone you should be with.”

“Doll—”

“Lo odio,” you whispered, and your voice cracked clean down the middle. “I hate it. I hate looking in the mirror and seeing this skin and knowing what it means. Knowing what it costs me.”

He stared at you. Silent. His face shifted into something like sympathy. You hated that look. “I can’t stop thinking about how it could be for us if I just… looked like her.” Your voice wavered. “Like any of them.”

His expression cracked. Like the words physically hurt him. He took a measured step closer, as if he moved too fast, you’d vanish. His hand came up, hovering for a second before cupping your cheek gently. He tilted your face up toward his, thumb brushing slowly over your skin like he could smooth out the pain.

“There’s a reason I’m with you and not Grazi,” he said, steady. Like it was the simplest truth he knew.

“Riff—”

“No. Listen to me.” His tone didn’t leave room to argue. “I don’t care what you look like. I don’t care if it’d be easier with someone else.” He took a breath, jaw tightening as he tried to find the right words. “You think I want easy?”

His hand dropped to your arm, thumb rubbing gently over your skin, a nervous habit he probably didn’t even realize he had.

“I know I've got no clue what it’s like. Walkin’ ‘round every day with people starin’ at you just ‘cause of where you’re from.” His voice dropped even lower. “But I’ve seen you. How you carry yourself. How you are with your people? You’re proud of it.” He looked you in the eye. “Don’t let ‘em make you ashamed of somethin’ they’ll never understand.”

Your lip trembled. He reached up, gently tucking your hair behind your ear, like he needed to see every part of your face when he was talking to you.

“I’ve only ever wanted one girl,” he said. “And she’s standin’ right in front of me.”

You exhaled shakily, the words barely tumbling out. “I just wanna be with you.”

“You are with me.”

“Sin escondernos. Like you were with her. I wanna dance with you. Love you where everyone can see.”

He nodded slowly, like he already knew that truth and hated it. His forehead pressed to yours, eyes shutting as he breathed you in.

“I want it too, girly,” he whispered. “I hate havin’ to pretend you ain’t mine.”

The whimper you tried to swallow broke something in him.

He pulled back just enough to see you again, thumb brushing away the tear trailing down your cheek. His hand curled gently around the back of your head as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering like he didn’t want to let go. His eyes shut tight, and his brows pulled together like holding you was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“I couldn’t care less if you’re a different color than me, doll,” he whispered. “Don’t give a shit if you have darker eyes. None of it matters to me ‘cause I’m in love with you. Just you.”

He tilted your head so you would face him. He could feel his heart begin to break when he noticed your bloodshot eyes and your tired expression. He sighed, placing another soft kiss on your forehead. His lips slowly trailed to your temple, lowering to your salty cheeks. Your breath hitched. He kissed the tip of your nose before leaning in close, his lips brushing yours like a question. When you tilted your head up, he answered.

He kissed you slowly, reverently, and his hand cradled your face. It was gentle and tender, like a silent prayer of devotion and promise. It wasn’t like any of the kisses you’ve shared before, it felt like he was baring his heart out to you in hopes that you’d accept it.

He pulled back enough to catch a breath, his nose pressing against yours before he tilted his head as he leaned back in to kiss you, deeper. He didn’t push for any more than you’d let him; instead, his tongue brushed over your bottom lip in a plea to let him in. And when you did, he cradled the back of your neck to tilt you up, his tongue slowly moving into your mouth to memorize every part of it.

You sighed at the intrusion, and he groaned in retaliation, his slacks starting to feel restricting. His hands moved to encircle your waist while his tongue sought out yours. Your hands moved to grip the openings of his jacket so you could begin to push it off his shoulders. He helped you, pulling it off before he mindlessly tossed it to the side, his arms returning to your waist.

You felt him, hard and hot through his pants, pressed against your thigh, and the quiet moan you let slip into his mouth made him tense. That was what snapped him out of it.

He pulled back from the kiss, like it hurt him to do it. And it did. His eyes lingered on you, your big eyes, kiss-swollen lips, and he looked like he might break and dive right back in. When you leaned forward to kiss him again, he held you still with a hand on your waist.

“Wait… I—” He cursed under his breath, jaw tight as if forcing himself to stay rooted. “I gotta tell you somethin’.”

You were still breathless, lips tingling, and heart pounding in your ears. He looked like he was conflicting himself, debating whether or not to keep the peace you’ve made.

“…You’re not gonna like it.”

Your brows furrowed. Your chest was rising and falling fast. “What, Riff?”

He hesitated, a pause that felt unnatural to him. Riff never hesitated, but now it looked like he was walking on eggshells. “At the dance... You know Tony, right?”

You nodded. He gave a dry little laugh. Not funny at all. Just nerves. “Yeah. Tony got into it with Bernardo.”

“¿Qué dices? How?”

He rubbed at your side absently, like he was already trying to calm you down, like he knew how you were going to react. “He saw him dancin’ with his sister. Wasn’t too thrilled.”

You sighed. Of course. No one ever was when it came to crossing lines. Not here, not in this neighborhood.

“So I went to talk to him.”

Your head snapped up fast. He hesitated again, then forced it out. “Told him we should settle it. Jets and Sharks. One big fight.”

His voice dropped to almost nothing. “Tomorrow. Midnight. At the salt shed.”

You didn’t wait to think, didn't give yourself time to process. You shoved him back, hard enough that he stumbled a step before catching himself.

“What—?”

“Hijo de puta. ¿Eres estúpido?” Your voice shook with rage. “You come here tellin’ me how much it hurts to be apart, how you hate it — and then you go and plan a rumble?”

“It ain’t about you.”

“What the hell do you think it looks like?” you shot back. “You say you wanna be with me, and then start a war ‘cause someone else tried the same thing?”

“It ain’t about Tony and Maria!” he shouted, frustrated. “It ain’t!”

You just stared at him, stunned. Heart racing, disbelief turning hot in your chest. Your hands were trembling, and you didn't bother hiding it.

“Then what is it about, Riff?”

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like the walls were closing in, already knowing you weren’t gonna like any answer he gave. “It’s about territory.”

“Pinche idiota—“

“It’s about control,” he bit out, firmer this time. “We were here long before the damn Sharks. You know that.”

“You’re risking your life over some block that doesn’t even belong to you?”

“I’ve done this before, doll.” He brushed off. “Ain’t riskin’ nothin’.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Your voice cracked under the weight of the entire night. “I’ve seen you after. I’ve patched you up with my own hands.” You swallowed. “I’ve done the same for my brother.”

“I ain’t ever asked you to do that,” He said quickly, defensive.

You stepped back like he’d slapped you, the space between you already getting colder. “That’s not the point, Riff! If that’s how you come back from the easy ones, what the hell do you think’s gonna happen when they show up ready to kill?”

“You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t.”

He sighed hard and dropped his head, hands braced on his hips. Then rubbed a hand over his face like he could wipe away this whole conversation. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered, more to himself than you. “Hell, I’ll come see you right after if that’ll make you feel better.”

You shook your head, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek to keep from crying again. You could taste the metallic of your blood from wearing the skin all night, it was no use.

“And my brother?” Your voice came out low and tired. “What happens when I come home and find him half-dead?”

Riff’s jaw clenched, like he was trying to fight off the words, but they beat him anyway. “Then tell him to learn to fight.” It was out before he could stop it.

The silence was almost deafening. Heavy. You stared at him in disbelief. Your voice was flat. Cold. “You’re an asshole.”

And for once, he didn’t argue. Just stood there looking back at you, regret already pooling behind his eyes. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You stared at him, arms limp at your sides, chest tight enough that it hurt to breathe. Your throat burned with everything you wanted to say but didn’t. It always felt like this, like trying to scream through a wall that never cracked.

“Why’d you even tell me?” you asked, voice quiet but heavy. “If you’re gonna do it anyway… why come here?”

He blinked, looked down at the floor like it had the answer. Shrugged like it didn’t matter. “…I dunno.”

The silence stretched before he spoke again. Softer this time, not defensive, almost like a confession. “Didn’t want you hearin’ it from someone else.”

A beat passed, and you didn’t move.

“Figured if you were gonna hate me,” His voice was rough. “I’d rather it be to my face.”

You bit your tongue, holding back words too heavy to say. “…I don’t hate you,” you said, barely above a whisper. And you hated how true it was. How you fell in love with chaos and expected it to hold you gently. How, even now, after everything, you still wanted him close. “I just don’t understand why you do the things you do.”

His jaw worked, grinding back and forth like he didn’t want to answer. “’S all I’ve ever known, doll.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to keep livin’ like this.”

He sighed as he stared off, his eyes unfocused. “What’s the point in doin’ it different?”

“¿Nunca quieres parar?” Your voice is tired, quiet, and frayed at the edges. “Let it all go? Be something new?”

That made him look up. Really look. Like the words had pulled him out of some deep, familiar fog.

“Don’t you ever want to start something new with me?”

He swallowed hard. You’d talked about it before, leaving the West Side, leaving New York entirely, finding a place that didn’t bleed. A house with still walls, no yelling outside the windows. A life that didn’t tick like a time bomb. But those hopes always lived out of reach, locked behind the things you were both tied to.

Still, he answered.

“You know I do.”

He stepped forward, hands drifting toward your waist like he was unsure he had permission. When you didn’t stop him, his arms slid around you, slow and sure, drawing you in like you were the only thing he needed.

“I’d do anything for you.”

His eyes searched yours, frantic, almost like he was reading a language he’d never quite learned. And before you could say anything else, he kissed you again. Slower this time, more reverent than before. Like he was trying to memorize your shape, your warmth, your breath. Like this kiss needed to mean everything the words couldn’t carry.

You tilted your head into it, letting him take the lead, letting him guide the pace. His plush lips moved with yours, a soft, aching, steady rhythm, full of unsaid things. And for one second, just one, you let yourself believe that nothing else existed beyond the space between your mouths.

Your hand glided up his arm, fingers curling over his bicep. You pulled back just slightly, his lips chasing yours as your breath shivered out.

“Can you come see me before?” It came out suddenly. Unsteady. You didn’t mean to ask it — it just slipped, like something fragile cracking free.

He paused, eyes flicking across your face like he was etching you into memory. The candlelight danced in his irises, making them look golden.

Then he nodded once.

“I’ll come.”

You nodded too, lips parting like you wanted to say something else but couldn’t find the words. Instead, you leaned in. And he met you halfway.

The kiss turned desperate, like he was clinging to the moment with everything in him, like he knew it might be the last. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His fingers skimmed up your spine, slow and deliberate, and even through the thin fabric of your nightgown, you shivered.

You cupped his jaw, thumb brushing his cheekbone, and he moaned softly into your mouth as his tongue pushed past your lips in a slow, familiar rhythm that felt like home. He kissed you deep, mouth warm and steady, the kind of kiss that said, please, don’t let this be the end.

When you sighed into him, soft and aching, his grip tightened, fingers twitching against your back like he didn’t want to let go. His lips left yours only to trail down the line of your jaw. He breathed against your skin, and your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling loose the gelled waves he’d styled for the dance. His hair spilled through your fingers — soft and unruly, like it never quite obeyed him, like he never quite obeyed anyone.

His teeth pulled at your skin, soothing over the mark with a kiss. His hand moved to your hair, tugging just enough to get your head to tilt, bearing your neck to him. You let out a soft sound when you felt the first press of his wet, open kisses trailing lower. He latched onto a spot just above your collarbone, his lips hot and deliberate against your skin. You felt the suction first, slow and purposeful, then the gentle graze of his tongue, the sharp edge of his teeth. Your breath hitched as he sucked harder, like he wanted the mark to show.

He pulled back, eyes lingering on the bruise beginning to bloom, dark and tender against your skin. His thumb brushed over it, almost apologetic. His fingers slipped beneath the neckline of your nightgown, dragging it over your shoulders, low enough to where your chest was bare to him. He kissed the space just above your heart first, then moved to your sternum, mouth slow and sure as he began to suck.

It was the same kind of kiss, deep and purposeful, leaving a piece of himself behind. Like if he couldn’t say what you meant out loud, he’d press it into your skin instead.

His mouth trailed lower, unhurried.

You felt his breath against the hardened peak of your tit before anything else, his lips brushing over it. He kissed there first. Soft. Careful. Like he was asking before he took more. When his mouth closed over your nipple, your breath caught in your throat. It was gentle at first, just the heat of his mouth and the press of his tongue, but it made your back arch anyway, your fingers curling in his locks.

Riff hummed at your reaction, the sound low in his throat. And when he sucked, slow and deliberate, it felt like your whole chest tightened with it. A soft moan slipped past your lips, spurring him on. One of his hands came up, sliding over your other breast before he began toying with it, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipple between them.

He pulled away from your chest with a soft pop, only to shift his mouth to the other side. His licks were languid, lazy, almost, but purposeful. Meanwhile, his fingers didn’t stop on your nipple now slick with his spit; they kept rubbing in slow, wet circles that made your breath stutter.

He nipped the peak before pulling away to look at you, catching your lips once again. The kiss turned feverish, pushing you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, and you fell back onto it.

He followed, hovering over you a second later, his nose nearly bumping yours as he paused to catch his breath. He smiled blissfully, like he was the one being unraveled instead of you.

“You okay?” His thumb grazed over your cheek, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, and he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Need you to say it, doll,” he muttered against your skin.

“Yes,” you said softly.

He smiled, giving you a quick and deep kiss before he trailed down your neck, his lips pressing over the exposed skin of your chest. His hand gathered the hem of your nightgown, bunching it up to your waist and over your stomach.

Riff’s head lowered as his body moved down, kissing the center of your stomach and slowly trailing to your belly button. Your head fell back against the pillows when he pressed a kiss above your heat. He shifted, moving to hook your thighs over his shoulders, his eyes fleeting up to admire you from his position.

He nipped at the sensitive skin on your inner thighs, running his tongue over it when you softly winced. He continued his way to your center, pressing wet kisses all the way. The first kiss on your clothed cunt was soft, barely there, but then you could feel his tongue licking over your clit, the fabric adding a rich feeling of friction.

He hummed against your heat, his eyes closing as he continued his broad licks. He pulled back, watching the way your arousal and his spit dampened your panties. “You’re drippin’ for me,” he mumbled, a smirk growing on his lips as his middle finger moved to lightly rub your clit, making you softly whine. He hummed, looking up at you. “Can’t wait to taste you, doll. Jus’ you.”

You couldn’t even process his words before he pulled the fabric to the side, exposing your glistening lips to the cool air of your bedroom. Your hips rut against nothing, and he laughs, low and gravely, like seeing you this desperate is amusing.

“What do you want, girly?” His voice was low, warm with mischief, but his eyes were almost black with desire. Locked on yours, heavy-lidded, sharp with focus. As his fingers hooked under the soft cotton at your hips, he pulled slowly, like he wanted to draw it out.

You groan, lashes fluttering shut. “Eres horrible.”

He huffed a laugh, raising a brow as he slid the fabric down your thighs. “Not what I wanted you to say.”

An exasperated breath escaped you as you propped yourself up on your elbows, your glare aimed straight at him. Or, at least, at the smug grin he wore like armor. You wanted to wipe it clean off his face..

“ ‘Cause I got lots of things I could use,” He added with a shrug, tossing your panties to the side. “M’givin’ you options.”

Your mouth opened, about to snap something back, but your breath caught when he leaned in and pressed an open-mouthed kiss just above your knee. You felt it everywhere.

“You know what I want, Riff,” you muttered.

“Then why not say it?”

His voice dropped further, coaxing. Daring. Like he wanted to hear you say it. Not just for the words, but for the power it gave you to ask. To want.

You glared harder, and he just smiled, unbothered. His lips brushed against the inside of your thigh and—

“Ah!” Your gasp broke the air as he nipped at the soft skin there, enough to make you twitch.

He chuckled, low and pleased, eyes flicking up to watch the way your chest moved, how you squirmed under his mouth.

“C’mon, doll. We’re both thinkin’ it.” His hands tightened around your thighs just enough to anchor you. “Jus’ ask nicely.”

You swallowed, throat dry, watching how his pupils had swallowed nearly all the blue in his eyes. His voice was smug, sure, but the hunger beneath it was undeniable. He looked like he’d been starved for you.

“Want your tongue,” you finally mumbled, your voice small but clear.

His grin turned wolfish, satisfied, but there was something deeper beneath it, reverent, like he’d been waiting for that.

“Atta girl,” he said, his voice thick. The praise landed heavy in your chest.

He guided your thighs back over his shoulders, settled in again with a softness that contradicted all that teasing, and just before he dipped his head, he looked up at you once more, like a silent promise. Then he disappeared between your thighs, his tongue licking over your entrance.

You both moaned as his tongue collected your arousal, his eyes fluttering shut to focus on tasting and licking every last piece of you. You fell back against the mattress, biting your knuckles to try and keep your sounds muffled. Your free hand flew to Riff’s hair, gripping and tugging at the strands.

His fingers dug into your thighs as he ate you out, you’d tell him how it hurt if you weren’t so focused on the feeling of his tongue swirling over your clit. You were sure he was doing it on purpose, another mark to claim you in his silent way.

He groaned every time you tugged at his hair, the vibrations against your cunt elevating your pleasure. You could feel the warmth start to pool at your stomach, your heart flutters at the way he’s pressing your pussy to his face like he needs it to live. It felt like heaven anytime his nose would bump against your clit while fucking you with his tongue.

“Tastes so good,” he muttered, the words almost lost against your heat. You whined when he pulled back before feeling the absence of his tongue get filled by his finger. He smiled when you moaned against your hand, his eyes watching you as he slowly worked the digit in. He swallowed, his head getting hazy when he felt your walls flutter around him and eagerly let him in.

He pumped his fingers a couple of times before slipping a second in. His digits moved faster the more he heard your muffled sighs and groans, his mouth attaching back to your clit.

You were trying to be sensible and keep quiet, be careful not to wake anyone else in your house, but it seemed like Riff was always desperate to make his presence known. You didn’t even know if you were successfully being silent; all you could hear or feel was Riff’s fingers repeatedly entering your soaked cunt.

He suddenly pulled away, your walls clenching around nothing, before you heard the sound of his belt buckle. You watched him settle back up, your thighs making space for him.

“Can’t— can’t wait any longer, doll,” he muttered, his voice heavy with desire. He looked at you, his eyes dark. “Gotta feel you.”

You sat up, pulling his shirt up while he tried to unbutton his slacks. You tossed it to the side, your hand running down his toned chest. He hastily kicked off his pants and boxers, leaning down to kiss you.

You could taste yourself on his lips, his tongue gently dancing with yours. His hand cradled the back of your head, pressing a palm against the mattress to gently lay you back down, following after you. His hips settled against yours, and you could feel the precum leaking against your stomach.

You softly moaned against his lips, and his hips rutted against yours. You let out a small laugh, and he pulled away, staring down at you.

You felt bare under his gaze, stripped down in a way that had nothing to do with skin. Even though you’d seen each other like this countless times, something about now made it feel new. Different. Like there were no walls left.

His eyes moved over your face slowly, like he was trying to memorize you. The soft moonlight pooled across your skin, catching on your hair, and you watched the way his lips parted like he was seeing something holy. He reached up, brushing a few strands from your face with a gentleness that caught you off guard. His thumb smoothed over your temple, slow and steady, calming himself more than you.

“I love you,” he whispered. Like speaking it too loudly might break the moment wide open.

Your heart clenched. There it was, that look in his eyes again. Love-sick. Open. Vulnerable in a way he only ever let show for you. You could see it in the way he held you, like you were something delicate. In the way his voice softened at the edges. In the way he looked at you, like there was no one else in the world.

You could feel what he wanted without him saying it. He wanted you to say it back. You reached up, fingers brushing his jaw as your chest tightened, full.

“I love you, too.” Your voice came out as soft as his, but steady. Certain.

A smile bloomed slowly across his face. Not wide or cocky, just quiet. Real. The kind of smile that only ever showed up when he didn’t think too hard.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, lingering there for a moment like he didn’t want to pull away. “Do you want this?” His voice brushed against your skin, low and careful.

You didn’t even hesitate. You nodded once, firm, and pressed a gentle hand to his chest, guiding him back just enough to see him. His face was inches from yours. You could see the swirl of blue and brown in his eye, pupils still wide. He looked like he was holding his breath. “I want you, Riff.”

The words hit him like a shiver. His lashes fluttered just once before he surged forward, catching your lips in a kiss that was all heat and aching. His hand slid between your bodies, touch careful but hungry, and you felt your breath catch as you melted into him again. Every inch of him was electric, every movement steeped in something more than want. This wasn’t just about needing you. It was about having you, even if the rest of the world never made room for it.

His hand wrapped around his shaft as he gave himself a few pumps, moaning into your mouth before he pulled away to look at you. The tip of his cock pressed against your entrance, and your eyes closed.

Without another word, Riff slowly pushed inside you, gripping your hips as he filled you. He moaned deeply, his head dropping beside your ear as he fought the urge to rut into you like an animal. Your head fell back, your hands pressing against his back to bring him close.

He groaned as you held him close, his hips slowly beginning to move. He started with slow, shallow thrusts, trying to let you adjust to his size. He lifted his head to look at you, his eyes dark and wild with desire. He leaned down to capture your mouth in a rough kiss. "So tight, doll,” he murmured against your lips.

Riff moaned into your mouth, his pace faltering for a moment as your legs locked around him. His tongue tangled with yours, his hands squeezing your waist as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

He broke the kiss to press his forehead against yours, his breath fanning over your face. His eyes locked on yours, watching your every expression. His grip on you was possessive, almost needy.

“You feel so good," he panted.

“Riff…” you said in a soft gasp, his heart racing at the sound of his name falling from your lips, the sweet sound only fueling his movements. His hips snapped against yours with increased fervor, his pace turning rougher and more desperate. He leaned down to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his lips sucking and biting as he moaned into your skin. His hands continued to hold you firmly in place, keeping you from moving with his thrusts, trying to keep the bed from squeaking.

His breath was hot against your neck as he continued to push himself into you. His hands roamed over your body, his fingers leaving trails of fire wherever they touched. He needed to touch as much of you as he could, to feel every inch of your soft skin.

His thrusts were relentless, driven by a raw hunger that he couldn't control. He moaned your name against your neck, his grip on you was strong and possessive. "You're perfect." He growled.

He could feel you begin to clench around him, his fingers digging into your skin. His pace increased, his hips slamming into you with even more force. He moaned your name, his mouth hot against your skin. His lips found yours as his hand moved to press his thumb against your clit, rubbing rough circles against the sensitive spot.

Your nails dragged down his back, making him hiss at the burn. “C’mon, doll,” he grunted. “I can feel you. You’re close, yeah?”

You don’t know if he expected you to respond; you couldn’t, not with how deeply he was thrusting into you, not with how his thumb is pressing down against the swollen nub. You couldn’t even comprehend the sweet nothings he mumbled against your cheek, the 'I love you’s he kept repeating. All you knew was that the coil in your stomach finally snapped, your orgasm ripping through you in pleasurable waves.

Riff didn’t stop his motions, watching the way your release moves through you before moving his arm to wrap around your back, tilting you upward as he pushed as deep as you could take him with a barely muffled grunt. His hips stuttered, letting his thick ropes of cum paint your velvet walls.

He kept you in that position until you both came down from your highs, his pants against your ear making you shudder. He pressed a chaste kiss on your lips before sitting up on his knees, slowly pulling out and watching his cum drip out of you. He didn’t stay there for long, getting off the bed to take a towel from your bedside and going to run it under water. He came back soon enough, being careful to avoid any sensitive areas as he cleaned his remains off of you, but he couldn't help the amused smile that he got when your hips jerked away from him.

He soon lay back by your side, the mattress dipping with his weight as his arm reached out and curled around your shoulder. You felt yourself shift with him, pulled into the warmth of his chest as he tugged you close.

You were still boneless, floating, your breath just starting to steady after everything he gave you, after everything you gave back. And for a moment, you wanted to stay like that. Suspended. Weightless. To pretend this was your life. That he could stay in your bed and never have to leave.

But the feeling came creeping back, sharp, and familiar. Dread pressed into your chest like a hand you couldn’t swat away. You tried to push it down, tried to focus on the way he held you like you were the only thing tethering him to the earth. The way he kissed your hair so gently, little brushes against your temple, your forehead, like he was trying to quiet something, too.

Then he said your name. Soft. Like he didn’t want to startle you. His fingers found your chin, tilting it up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. He’d caught onto it. He always did.

“Hey,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your jaw.

“Stop thinkin’ ‘bout it, okay? Won’t do you any good.”

You wished you could. You really did. But the thought of something happening to him, of him not coming back, sat like lead in your stomach. Made your breath feel sharp. Made your skin cold, even in his arms.

So you didn’t answer. You just nodded, forcing yourself to believe him for now. And then you leaned up and kissed him, grateful, aching. Like it might be the last time.

Something about that kiss made him melt all over again. His mouth moved against yours with a softness that hurt, slow and lingering. You held his face between your palms, memorizing the way he kissed when there was no one watching. No noise outside. Just you and him. Just this. But even now… even here… it felt like a goodbye.

He pulled back after a moment, just enough to look at you, his eyes gentle. His smile is small but sure, trying to pass that confidence onto you.

“Nothin’ll happen to me,” he said quietly. “I promise.”

And he said it like it was law. Like it was fact. Like it was enough to rewrite the world.

You wanted to believe him so badly it hurt. And for tonight, you did. You let yourself fall for the beautiful lie. You rested your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as your hand curled against his chest. His heartbeat was slow and steady beneath your cheek. A lullaby. A promise. A prayer. You let it pull you under, into sleep. Into safety.

And as you drifted, you wished for a life where this could be real, where the world didn’t rip things like this apart. A life with just you. Just him. And the love that held you like a shield.

Tomorrow won’t go south. It can’t go wrong.

He promised.