ur local cryptid

You secure the reins to a nearby tree and trudge through the thick blanket of snow until you find a good spot to lie on your belly. The rifle is frigid against your cheek as you settle in for a shot so easy that it almost feels unfair. But winter is hard and a buck that size could feed a lot of hungry mouths back home. A stillness settles over you as you line up the shot. Muscle memory takes over; in the lull between breaths, your finger squeezes the trigger. The bullet enters just below the shoulder. The buck lurches and staggers a few futile steps before it falls a few yards away, staining the untouched snow crimson. 

By the time you get the buck secured on Scout’s back, you’re soaked in sweat and the sun is high in the sky, still lurking behind the clouds. Every inch of your body aches. A particular stiffness has made its home in your legs and back, the kind that only comes from straddling a horse for hours on end. Hauling yourself up into the saddle with your weary arms is a herculean effort. You give Scout a grateful pat as the two of you begin the trek back to Jackson. Both of you deserve a good meal and some rest after all this hard work. You can feel the temptation of your bed calling your name. 

The bright rays of the early morning sun finally spill onto the earth as the clouds dissipate. You lean back with a hum, eagerly soaking in the warmth. These little things are all that keep you sane in the crazy world you’ve found yourself living in. A sunny day, some hot tea with a little honey, soft blankets to wrap yourself up in at night - and maybe the company of a good man. Your face warms even more at the thought of him. 

Joel Miller, the infamous eldest Miller brother, who may not be as cold as he makes himself out to be. Only a few days have passed since you coaxed him into your home in those early morning hours. You haven’t been able to get him off your mind since. His mere presence tugs at your very core, a siren song of stolen glances and secret smiles. The way he wants you leaves you breathless. It’s irrevocable in its wholeness and hunger, a little intimidating in its intensity. It should unnerve you; instead, you find yourself returning it wholeheartedly. You’ve learned the hard way to hold tight to any joy this world lets you have.

The walls of Jackson creep into view before you realize how much time has passed. The sound of those massive wooden gates groaning open sends relief washing over you. With a nudge of your heels at Scout’s sides, the two of you head for the mess hall at a slight jog. All you want is to drop off the game and collapse onto your couch for a long nap. 

Those thoughts drift away at the sight of Joel and Tommy making their way down the dirt road. That one glimpse is all your one-track mind needs to be right back on Joel. His head turns sharply as you call out his name and you wave your hand in the air to draw his eye. You can tell the exact moment he realizes it's you - he does a double-take and his broad shoulders draw back as he straightens his posture. Even from this distance, you can see the smile on his face. You can’t help but return it.

Tommy lets out a whistle as they draw closer. “Someone’s been busy!”

“I couldn’t get back to sleep thing morning, so I checked the snares early.” You admit with a shrug. “I might have gotten a little lucky on the way back.” 

“A little? This thing’s gotta be… what, two hundred pounds?” The pure admiration in Tommy’s voice makes your face heat up. The surge of pride warms you against the cold. 

“Probably more if my strained back is any proof.” You chuckle as you unhook your left foot from the stirrup. 

Tommy moves as if to help you down, but Joel steps in with a quiet, “I’ve got her.” You slip your hand into his and Joel eases you onto your feet. His other hand comes to rest on your lower back, his touch lingering as you stretch and shake out your stiff limbs. You don’t miss the knowing look Tommy gives you both, but all you can focus on his the weight of Joel’s hand against you. 

“Ya alright?” He murmurs. You can just barely feel his thumb caressing your back through the thick material of your coat. A small, soothing motion that makes you want to melt into him. 

“I’m okay. Just a little tired.” You reassure him softly, leaning into his touch without thinking about it. He offers you that small smile you adore. “I need to get this all taken care of but… Maybe we can catch up after if you aren’t busy.” 

Tommy interrupts before Joel can even open his mouth, telling you that you’ve done more than enough heavy lifting for one morning. You know better than to press the issue - no amount of arguing can ever change that stubborn man’s mind. Tommy slings an arm over Joel’s shoulder and jostles him with a playful grin. “Go on and take care of your girl, big brother.”

There’s no denying the flush of heat that rushes up your neck and cheeks. Joel’s girl. Your teeth sink into your lower lip in a vain attempt to hide the smile it brings. Joel shoves his little brother’s arm off and glares at him in return, but he isn’t fooling anyone. The rosy color that tints his cheeks and the tips of his ears suits him, you think. Joel pulls your hand up into the crook of his arm and leads you down the road toward your house. You don’t have to look to know Tommy is watching, probably with that same grin and a twinkle in his eye. 

The two of you walk in comfortable silence and you take a moment to appreciate how he looks in the morning sun. Even though he’s squinting against the brightness, you can see how the light transforms his pretty brown eyes. Warm and deep like the perfect cup of coffee on a lazy Sunday morning. You watch him, enraptured by the sight of his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. 

The crinkles around his eyes deepen as he directs his squinted gaze at you. “What are you starin’ for?”

“You’re handsome.” You say matter-of-factly. 

Your smile only grows when he rolls his eyes, a vain attempt to hide how he preens under the compliment. He mutters something about ‘not needing to butter him up’ but he still walks a little taller nonetheless. The years seem to disappear in moments like this. His eyes shine a little brighter. The harsh clench of his teeth is easier to ease into a smile. You’ve watched the edge he carries start to soften these last few months in Jackson, something you remember all too well from that first strange year of adjusting. 

Joel gives you a soft smile as you push open your front door and lead him inside. He makes himself right at home, not hesitating to hang up his coat and tuck his boots next to yours. With the heaviest layers discarded, you finally surrender to the urge to get your hands on him. Joel hums low in his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist and squeezes you tightly. You weren't the only one aching for a little comfort. 

“Fuck, I'm so tired.” You grumble, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “I didn't realize just how bad it was until now.” 

“You've been runnin' around all morning on no sleep, sweetheart.” His hands rub up and down your back soothingly. “I was thinking I could get a fire goin’ while you relax. I’ll even make some of that tea you like. How does that sound?” 

Something in your chest loosens, a tension you didn’t realize you were carrying. Such thoughtfulness and kindness have been in short supply these last few years. You can count on one hand how many times someone has been so attentive. The simple act of being seen - you didn’t realize just how much you’ve missed it. It’s enough to have you like putty in the palm of his hands. 

“That sounds perfect.” You say as you press up on your toes, your nose brushing his. “But I need a kiss first, Mr. Miller.” 

Joel chuckles before he gives you exactly what you want, just a soft and sweet kiss. The warmth of his palm on your cheek brings back memories of that night. The way he tugged you into his lap. The heat of his tongue and teeth at your neck. The desperate curiosity of his hands exploring your body for the first time. The memory leaves you a little dazed and needy, warmth simmering low in your belly. Even this chaste kiss exposes how much you ache for him - your fingers curl into his flannel, keeping him close as your lips linger a hair's breadth apart. He gives you one last kiss before he pulls away. 

“Go get comfortable, baby.” He says with a playful pat on your behind before disappearing into your kitchen. 

It isn’t long before you find yourself curled up on the couch in your tank top and leggings with a steaming mug of tea in your hands. Another mug waits on the coffee table as Joel tosses some wood into the fireplace. You indulge yourself in the sight he makes kneeling on the hardwood. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up past his elbow to expose his forearms. His eyebrows draw together in focus as he patiently coaxes a flame from the dry wood. Warmth curls through the room as the fire catches and spreads across the logs and twigs. He stands with a small groan and stretches, the hem of his shirt riding up to expose his soft belly. 

A small smirk crosses his face when he sees you watching him so eagerly. Joel snags his mug and settles in next to you, welcoming you into his arms with ease. The two of you talk about the last few days - your hunting, his construction projects, the smallest ins and outs of the time not spent together. The rumble of his chest relaxes you even more than the tea ever could. His palm strokes along your shoulder and arm absentmindedly as he listens to you rant about the latest spat with your neighbor. 

“She swears up and down that my bedroom light keeps her up all night. She even complained to Maria about it!” You’ve sat up straight at this point, your hands waving about as you speak. “Joel. My bedroom doesn’t even face her house!” 

“That woman could start a fight in an empty house. Can’t take anything she says to heart.” Joel scoffs, his voice laced with irritation. You can’t help but laugh at the genuine exasperation in his voice. “What? You can’t tell me she isn’t a massive pain in the ass.” 

“No, she definitely is.” You say as you sit up to get a good look at him. “I just missed you and your southern-isms is all.” 

“My ‘southern-isms’?” He teases. His eyes flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze once more. “Is that all you missed?” 

“Hmmm,” You hum in faux contemplation as you lean closer, your fingers toying with the buttons of his flannel. “Maybe not all I missed…” 

Joel doesn’t hesitate. His calloused hand cups your jaw and he pulls you into a kiss. His tongue glides along the seam of your lips and you part them without pause. Joel groans as your tongue meets his, sitting up until he practically looms over you. His other hand falls to your waist and tightens as if to trap you there. As if you could imagine ever trying to break free of him. Kissing Joel is as easy as breathing - a natural, aching need that you’re sure would kill you if not sated. 

You slowly undo the buttons of his flannel until the soft material falls down his shoulders, quickly shoved off by Joel’s intent hands. It’s so easy to fall into him, to lean into his warmth and lose yourself in his touch. The day’s pains fade as his hand drifts down to your neck, his thumb resting on the hinge of your jaw. A cavernous wanting cracks open in your chest, something you have been resisting for far too long. You press closer, intent on climbing your way into his lap and carrying on right where you last left off - 

Something sharp and painful twists in your back, protesting the way you lean over him. A pained sound filters through your gritted teeth and Joel pulls back, concern written all over his face. You try to brush it off and draw him back to you, but he isn’t having it. He doesn’t have to voice the question for you to know the question that lingers in his eyes. 

“I just strained my back a little, it’s okay.” You reassure him, your hand brushing his stubbled cheek. “You don’t need to worry. I promise.” 

He studies you for a moment, something unknown blooming in his gaze. “How about a massage?” 

Part of you wants to argue that you're fine, that you just want to keep kissing him until you lose all sense - but you can't resist the allure of those strong hands on your body. Joel moves the coffee table out of the way and turns to find you tugging your tank top off. You never thought you could feel irresistible in just a sports bra and leggings, but the way Joel’s gaze lingers… the man looks like he could eat you alive. His eyes never leave you as you stretch out on the fluffy rug that lies in front of the fireplace. The heat of the fire feels like heaven against your bare skin. Your breath catches as he straddles your hips, careful not to press too much of his weight into you. 

His voice is low in your ear. “Where does it hurt, baby?” 

“My shoulders and my lower back.” You reply, trying your best not to sound as breathless as you feel. 

Joel gets right to it. His hands find the base of your neck first, carefully kneading the knots out of your muscles. The tension slowly begins to melt away under his firm, methodical touch. It's the perfect kind of ache, right on the cusp of pain but so damn good at the same time. He takes his time, lavishing every inch of your shoulders with attention. Every firm press of his fingers draws a pleased groan from your lips. A shiver wracks your body as the pain is replaced with a warm pulse of relief.

“Oh my god…” You groan as you bury your face in your arms. 

“How ya feelin’?” He murmurs. 

“Good,” You damn near sound drunk. “So good.” 

Joel chuckles low in his throat as he shifts to your lower back. It would be impossible to miss the tightness in your muscles. The worst of the pain lingers there - but it's no match for Joel’s strong hands. The sounds you make are downright pornographic. You haven't felt this relaxed in years. Joel's fingers dig in harder with every little sound you make, his breath becoming shaky. The effect you have on him is so painfully clear and you just know you're already addicted to it.

His hands come to rest at the small of your back, his thumbs tracing arcs along your skin. His fingertips dip just beneath the waistband of your leggings. The soft touch tickles, makes you shift beneath him and… oh. You can just barely feel his cock straining against the thick denim of his jeans. Joel draws in a breath through clenched teeth, his fingers digging harder into your flesh.

“I bet your legs are achin’, too.” There's a gruffness in his voice that hides beneath that faux contemplation. His huge palms squeeze the back of your thighs, his thumbs pressed so close to your core. “Aren't they, darlin’?” 

It takes a moment for the realization to surface in your blissed-out mind - he's asking for permission. You grant it without a second thought. 

“Mhmm,” You hum indulgently, shifting your hips beneath him. “Gonna take care of me, cowboy?”

Joel pushes his hand between your thighs and palms your cunt through your leggings. He draws in a shuddering breath. “I always take care of my girl.”

 You arch into the touch with a whimper of his name. That’s the only encouragement he needs to manhandle you onto your back. The two of you work in tandem with impatient, fumbling hands to tug away the few layers of clothes that still separate you. You manage to strip him down to his briefs before Joel grabs your thighs and pulls you closer, leaving you flat on your back beneath him. Vulnerable in the most enticing, aching way. His tongue flicks out along his bottom lip as he takes in the way you look beneath him, all that skin finally bared to his greedy gaze. 

Joel doesn’t give you long to admire him before he slinks down your body, his eyes never leaving yours. You spread your legs further, little murmurs of ‘yes, yes, yes’ falling from your lips in an endless stream of pleas. There’s no room to feel ashamed of your desperation. You’re too consumed with the need to feel that sinful tongue right where you need it most - and Joel is nothing if not a giver. His shaky exhale ghosts across your soaked cunt, cooling the slick that already coats your inner thighs. His eyes flick back to yours as his tongue curls a long, slow pass up your slit. 

Your head falls back as the heat of his tongue blossoms through your core. Joel groans against you and something in him seems to break. His tongue swirls over your clit with a frenzied need that makes your hips jerk in surprise. The grip he has on your thighs tightens, holding you open right where he wants you. There’s no use in biting your tongue - even if you didn’t love what your sounds do to him, you couldn’t hold back if you tried. You grind against his face, breathy moans escaping your lips with every exhale. Every little sound you make is met with one of his own. He licks and sucks at your most sensitive places, feasting on your cunt like a man starved. It strikes you just how much he loves this. He’s fucking good at it, too - attentive and thorough and so fucking hungry. 

You can’t stop yourself from burying your fingers in his hair and digging your heel into his shoulder, grinding down against that sinful tongue. Two calloused fingers glide along your cunt before one sinks in, quickly followed by the other. His fingers are so thick, curling and stretching until all you can do is tremble beneath him. It doesn’t take long for him to find that sweet spot that has your cunt fluttering around him. Pleasure pools low in your belly and your skin prickles in anticipation as he drives you ever closer to that sweet edge - and he can’t get enough of it. 

You look down to find his eyes still locked on you, roiling with darkness even in the flickering firelight. It’s the fiery determination in those pretty eyes that finally does it. You fall apart beneath him, crying his name with every flush of pleasure that falls over you. Joel makes a feral sound, mangled and trapped in his throat. He doesn’t - no, he can’t stop; his tongue swirls slow circles over your clit until you’re trembling in the aftershocks. His fingers slip from your sensitive cunt, only to dig into your thighs and keep you anchored to his mouth. You know fingertip-shaped bruises will mottle your soft skin soon. You revel at the thought. It isn’t until you whine for him to stop, that it’s too much, that he finally relents. 

“So good… my sweet fuckin’ girl.” He murmurs, a possessive edge dripping from his tone. Joel sits back and admires the mess he’s made of you. His hands never leave your body. They trail up and down your thighs, then along your sides and back again. Worshipful. Doting. Greedy. 

The shiver of sensitivity isn’t enough to quell the need that pulses through your body with every beat of your heart. You push yourself up and drag him into a kiss, reveling in the taste of yourself still lingering on his tongue. There’s nothing refined about it, but that’s what you need. You don’t want perfectly poised Joel and the guarded gaze that hides him from the world. You want this - the unraveled Joel, all tongue and teeth and roaming hands. The Joel that chokes on your name as your fingers lightly graze along his cock. The Joel that looks at you with a fire in your eyes that burns away even the coldest Wyoming winter. 

Joel’s head falls back as you stroke his cock, his breath stuttering in his chest. You can’t resist the temptation of his neck and your lips quickly find a home there. His huge hand cups the back of your head, holding you close as your lips and teeth worry marks into his skin. His hips jerk up to meet your hand and a deliciously needy sound meets your ears. A thrill shoots through you at the effect you have on him. It’s heady, addictive. 

It doesn’t take much urging to get him right where you want him - leaned back against the couch with you in his lap. Your impatience gets the better of you the moment you feel the weight of cock press against your inner thigh. He watches you with a heavy, lust-drunk gaze as you sink onto him slowly. Even with the preparation of his fingers and tongue, you aren't ready for the stretch - a sweet, aching sensation that steals the breath from your lungs. Your eyes flutter shut as you settle into his lap, his cock twitching deep in your belly. 

“That’s it… that’s my girl.” The possessive praise slips down your spine, hot and syrupy. He can’t keep his hands in one place. They glide along your back and squeeze at your thighs, his nails digging into your soft skin. It isn’t to urge you on, to guide you into movement. Only to feel you against him, every inch of your skin against his. His words are quiet and gruff, full of reverence. “Take your time, baby.” 

You were never good at taking instructions. 

Your hips grind down into his lap, driving him impossibly deeper. Twin groans melt into the hot air that surrounds you. One hand braces against the edge of the couch, the other anchored at the curve where his neck and shoulder meet. His hands tighten at your hips, a bruising grip that only encourages every rise and fall of your hips. Your breath leaves you in a rush every time you bottom out, forced from your lungs by the sheer depths he reaches. A rough curse falls from his lips as you keep that pace, relentless in your chase for more. Joel’s lips find yours in a messy rush of tongue and teeth. His touch brands into every inch of your skin, sears his claim with every bruise and bite. All you can feel and taste and smell is him. He surrounds you until all that exists is this. 

Divine. 

Joel leans back just enough to get a good look at the mess he’s made of you. Your skin sweat-slick and littered with his marks, your teeth sunk into your lower lip, your thighs trembling with every rock of your hips. You’ve never felt more beautiful than in this moment. More desirable. More seen. His gaze darkens as it falls to your cunt, pupils dilating as he watches you take him over and over again. 

The sight must break the trance you’ve put him under. His hips jerk up to meet yours and the sudden movement sends you reeling. The embers of lingering sensitivity reignite as Joel fucks up into you. He drags you down by your waist to meet every thrust - all you can do is take it. The bite of your nails into his shoulders only encourages him. Every thrust grinds into that sweet spot so hard your vision goes spotty. Your eyes flutter shut, content to let him drag you over the edge again. Until his hand grips your jaw and draws your face close to his. 

“Eyes on me.” Joel rasps. “Y’look so pretty when you come for me. Let me see you, baby.” 

All you can do is whine his name and lean into his hand, but Joel is all too happy to keep you held there. Right where he wants you. Your cunt tightens around him, pulses with every beat of your heart. It’s plain on his face how it damn near sends him over the edge. His lips parted and his brows furrowed. Those breathless sounds flow without restraint. He watches you with those intent eyes, taking in every reaction you give him. 

All you can do is cling to him as another orgasm unfurls in your belly, explosive and devastating. Joel’s thrusts stutter but don’t stop, and it feels never-ending. It consumes you, washes over the essence of your very being until you’re left trembling in its wake. Joel whispers his encouragement, laced with gruff curses that descend into choked-off moans as he spills inside of you. 

The world goes still. The room fills with the sound of soft panting and the crackle of firewood. You feel weightless, lost in the warmth of his body beneath you. Joel blinks up at you, his eyes glossy with satisfaction but no less intent. He studies your face for a beat and you just smile back, a dizzied little grin that tells him everything he needs to know. You see a hint of a smirk curl the edge of his lips before he draws you into a messy kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth and his taste draws a satisfied moan from you. He drinks it in, ever greedy for anything and everything you give him. 

You don’t know what it is - the back-breaking start to your day, the two orgasms, or the pure relief of being in his arms - but it takes a while for your thoughts to come forth through the daze. It’s strange to feel so exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. Joel’s warm, calloused hands rub up and down your back, over and over in an endless path that leaves you sleepy against his chest. The position… isn’t great. You can already feel the ache budding in your knees, but you don’t want to move. All you want is to feel the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath you. 

It doesn’t take him long to notice. 

“C’mon, baby,” Joel murmurs. You can feel the vibration of his voice against you, deep and lulling. He squeezes your hips in an attempt to get you moving. “Gonna be hurtin’ all over again if we keep this up.” 

You hum a noncommittal sound, busying yourself with the taste of his skin on your tongue. He tastes of sweat and woodsmoke and something so distinctly Joel. You can’t help but tease along his collarbone with your teeth and tongue. Joel’s resolve crumbles under the heat of your touch. He squeezes your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You can feel his softening cock twitch inside you with every open-mouthed kiss you press into his skin. It doesn’t take long to find the perfect spot - that strong cord of muscle where his shoulder and neck meet. You worry your teeth against it before soothing it with a soft lick, only to repeat it over and over until a dark mark settles into his skin. You lean back with a satisfied hum to take in the little piece of artwork you’ve bitten into him. 

He blinks at you dazedly. He squeezes your waist as if assuring himself this is real, that you’re truly here. The confirmation seems to clear the haze in those pretty brown eyes. 

“How about a bath?” He asks, still a little breathless. 

You have to give him credit - he knows just the right buttons to push.

Moments later, you find yourself perched on the bathroom counter, naked as the day you were born, as he draws a scalding bath - just the way you like it. Joel sits against the edge of the bathtub, his hand cupped beneath the stream of water to monitor its temperature. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to fall on you. You give him a smile - soft, satisfied, a little sleepy. His gaze trails down your body, lingering on the various marks that have just started to truly show. His marks, the ones he branded into you with his hands and his teeth. You never thought someone could look so sated yet starving at the same time. 

That look lingers as he helps you lower into the hot water, as you coax him in alongside you, as he settles you against his chest, his chin resting on your shoulder. It never falters as he drags a soapy washcloth over your skin or when you demand he let you show him the same attention. It’s still there when your fingers turn pruny and the water loses most of its heat, and he finally pulls you from the bath. 

He doesn’t leave your home until the sun begins to set, painting the skies with bright oranges and pinks. He leaves you on the couch, tucked under a soft blanket with your book in your hands. With a soft kiss, he promises to come back once he makes sure Ellie is settled in at home rather than off in some kind of trouble. He returns an hour later, his cheeks tinged pink from the frigid air. It takes one look at you for him to collapse into you, ignoring the ‘oof’ sound you give when his weight fully sinks into you. The cold tip of his nose presses into your neck and he shoves his hands beneath your back, and you swear you only complain a little as he warms himself up with your body. 

The weight of his body is comforting. Your fingers rake through the curls at the back of his head and you can’t help but chuckle at the pleased groan Joel gives in return. Your free hand props your book up on his shoulder. Something warm and content settles in your chest, fills the spaces between your ribs with belonging. This is all you could need in this life. The glowing embers in your fireplace, a good book to get lost in, and Joel Miller softly snoring on your chest. You let a few chapters pass before accepting the sleepiness that tugs at your eyelids. 

“Joel,” You run a firm hand down his spine, gently coaxing him to the waking world. “Baby, you’re falling asleep.” 

Joel just shifts slightly on top of you, muttering a completely dignified ‘nuh-uh’ into your chest. You huff out a laugh. Ridiculous. You nudge his ribs with your knee. 

“C’mon, Joel. I’d much rather have you in my bed.” 

You secure the reins to a nearby tree and trudge through the thick blanket of snow until you find a good spot to lie on your belly. The rifle is frigid against your cheek as you settle in for a shot so easy that it almost feels unfair. But winter is hard and a buck that size could feed a lot of hungry mouths back home. A stillness settles over you as you line up the shot. Muscle memory takes over; in the lull between breaths, your finger squeezes the trigger. The bullet enters just below the shoulder. The buck lurches and staggers a few futile steps before it falls a few yards away, staining the untouched snow crimson. 

By the time you get the buck secured on Scout’s back, you’re soaked in sweat and the sun is high in the sky, still lurking behind the clouds. Every inch of your body aches. A particular stiffness has made its home in your legs and back, the kind that only comes from straddling a horse for hours on end. Hauling yourself up into the saddle with your weary arms is a herculean effort. You give Scout a grateful pat as the two of you begin the trek back to Jackson. Both of you deserve a good meal and some rest after all this hard work. You can feel the temptation of your bed calling your name. 

The bright rays of the early morning sun finally spill onto the earth as the clouds dissipate. You lean back with a hum, eagerly soaking in the warmth. These little things are all that keep you sane in the crazy world you’ve found yourself living in. A sunny day, some hot tea with a little honey, soft blankets to wrap yourself up in at night - and maybe the company of a good man. Your face warms even more at the thought of him. 

Joel Miller, the infamous eldest Miller brother, who may not be as cold as he makes himself out to be. Only a few days have passed since you coaxed him into your home in those early morning hours. You haven’t been able to get him off your mind since. His mere presence tugs at your very core, a siren song of stolen glances and secret smiles. The way he wants you leaves you breathless. It’s irrevocable in its wholeness and hunger, a little intimidating in its intensity. It should unnerve you; instead, you find yourself returning it wholeheartedly. You’ve learned the hard way to hold tight to any joy this world lets you have.

The walls of Jackson creep into view before you realize how much time has passed. The sound of those massive wooden gates groaning open sends relief washing over you. With a nudge of your heels at Scout’s sides, the two of you head for the mess hall at a slight jog. All you want is to drop off the game and collapse onto your couch for a long nap. 

Those thoughts drift away at the sight of Joel and Tommy making their way down the dirt road. That one glimpse is all your one-track mind needs to be right back on Joel. His head turns sharply as you call out his name and you wave your hand in the air to draw his eye. You can tell the exact moment he realizes it's you - he does a double-take and his broad shoulders draw back as he straightens his posture. Even from this distance, you can see the smile on his face. You can’t help but return it.

Tommy lets out a whistle as they draw closer. “Someone’s been busy!”

“I couldn’t get back to sleep thing morning, so I checked the snares early.” You admit with a shrug. “I might have gotten a little lucky on the way back.” 

“A little? This thing’s gotta be… what, two hundred pounds?” The pure admiration in Tommy’s voice makes your face heat up. The surge of pride warms you against the cold. 

“Probably more if my strained back is any proof.” You chuckle as you unhook your left foot from the stirrup. 

Tommy moves as if to help you down, but Joel steps in with a quiet, “I’ve got her.” You slip your hand into his and Joel eases you onto your feet. His other hand comes to rest on your lower back, his touch lingering as you stretch and shake out your stiff limbs. You don’t miss the knowing look Tommy gives you both, but all you can focus on his the weight of Joel’s hand against you. 

“Ya alright?” He murmurs. You can just barely feel his thumb caressing your back through the thick material of your coat. A small, soothing motion that makes you want to melt into him. 

“I’m okay. Just a little tired.” You reassure him softly, leaning into his touch without thinking about it. He offers you that small smile you adore. “I need to get this all taken care of but… Maybe we can catch up after if you aren’t busy.” 

Tommy interrupts before Joel can even open his mouth, telling you that you’ve done more than enough heavy lifting for one morning. You know better than to press the issue - no amount of arguing can ever change that stubborn man’s mind. Tommy slings an arm over Joel’s shoulder and jostles him with a playful grin. “Go on and take care of your girl, big brother.”

There’s no denying the flush of heat that rushes up your neck and cheeks. Joel’s girl. Your teeth sink into your lower lip in a vain attempt to hide the smile it brings. Joel shoves his little brother’s arm off and glares at him in return, but he isn’t fooling anyone. The rosy color that tints his cheeks and the tips of his ears suits him, you think. Joel pulls your hand up into the crook of his arm and leads you down the road toward your house. You don’t have to look to know Tommy is watching, probably with that same grin and a twinkle in his eye. 

The two of you walk in comfortable silence and you take a moment to appreciate how he looks in the morning sun. Even though he’s squinting against the brightness, you can see how the light transforms his pretty brown eyes. Warm and deep like the perfect cup of coffee on a lazy Sunday morning. You watch him, enraptured by the sight of his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. 

The crinkles around his eyes deepen as he directs his squinted gaze at you. “What are you starin’ for?”

“You’re handsome.” You say matter-of-factly. 

Your smile only grows when he rolls his eyes, a vain attempt to hide how he preens under the compliment. He mutters something about ‘not needing to butter him up’ but he still walks a little taller nonetheless. The years seem to disappear in moments like this. His eyes shine a little brighter. The harsh clench of his teeth is easier to ease into a smile. You’ve watched the edge he carries start to soften these last few months in Jackson, something you remember all too well from that first strange year of adjusting. 

Joel gives you a soft smile as you push open your front door and lead him inside. He makes himself right at home, not hesitating to hang up his coat and tuck his boots next to yours. With the heaviest layers discarded, you finally surrender to the urge to get your hands on him. Joel hums low in his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist and squeezes you tightly. You weren't the only one aching for a little comfort. 

“Fuck, I'm so tired.” You grumble, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “I didn't realize just how bad it was until now.” 

“You've been runnin' around all morning on no sleep, sweetheart.” His hands rub up and down your back soothingly. “I was thinking I could get a fire goin’ while you relax. I’ll even make some of that tea you like. How does that sound?” 

Something in your chest loosens, a tension you didn’t realize you were carrying. Such thoughtfulness and kindness have been in short supply these last few years. You can count on one hand how many times someone has been so attentive. The simple act of being seen - you didn’t realize just how much you’ve missed it. It’s enough to have you like putty in the palm of his hands. 

“That sounds perfect.” You say as you press up on your toes, your nose brushing his. “But I need a kiss first, Mr. Miller.” 

Joel chuckles before he gives you exactly what you want, just a soft and sweet kiss. The warmth of his palm on your cheek brings back memories of that night. The way he tugged you into his lap. The heat of his tongue and teeth at your neck. The desperate curiosity of his hands exploring your body for the first time. The memory leaves you a little dazed and needy, warmth simmering low in your belly. Even this chaste kiss exposes how much you ache for him - your fingers curl into his flannel, keeping him close as your lips linger a hair's breadth apart. He gives you one last kiss before he pulls away. 

“Go get comfortable, baby.” He says with a playful pat on your behind before disappearing into your kitchen. 

It isn’t long before you find yourself curled up on the couch in your tank top and leggings with a steaming mug of tea in your hands. Another mug waits on the coffee table as Joel tosses some wood into the fireplace. You indulge yourself in the sight he makes kneeling on the hardwood. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up past his elbow to expose his forearms. His eyebrows draw together in focus as he patiently coaxes a flame from the dry wood. Warmth curls through the room as the fire catches and spreads across the logs and twigs. He stands with a small groan and stretches, the hem of his shirt riding up to expose his soft belly. 

A small smirk crosses his face when he sees you watching him so eagerly. Joel snags his mug and settles in next to you, welcoming you into his arms with ease. The two of you talk about the last few days - your hunting, his construction projects, the smallest ins and outs of the time not spent together. The rumble of his chest relaxes you even more than the tea ever could. His palm strokes along your shoulder and arm absentmindedly as he listens to you rant about the latest spat with your neighbor. 

“She swears up and down that my bedroom light keeps her up all night. She even complained to Maria about it!” You’ve sat up straight at this point, your hands waving about as you speak. “Joel. My bedroom doesn’t even face her house!” 

“That woman could start a fight in an empty house. Can’t take anything she says to heart.” Joel scoffs, his voice laced with irritation. You can’t help but laugh at the genuine exasperation in his voice. “What? You can’t tell me she isn’t a massive pain in the ass.” 

“No, she definitely is.” You say as you sit up to get a good look at him. “I just missed you and your southern-isms is all.” 

“My ‘southern-isms’?” He teases. His eyes flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze once more. “Is that all you missed?” 

“Hmmm,” You hum in faux contemplation as you lean closer, your fingers toying with the buttons of his flannel. “Maybe not all I missed…” 

Joel doesn’t hesitate. His calloused hand cups your jaw and he pulls you into a kiss. His tongue glides along the seam of your lips and you part them without pause. Joel groans as your tongue meets his, sitting up until he practically looms over you. His other hand falls to your waist and tightens as if to trap you there. As if you could imagine ever trying to break free of him. Kissing Joel is as easy as breathing - a natural, aching need that you’re sure would kill you if not sated. 

You slowly undo the buttons of his flannel until the soft material falls down his shoulders, quickly shoved off by Joel’s intent hands. It’s so easy to fall into him, to lean into his warmth and lose yourself in his touch. The day’s pains fade as his hand drifts down to your neck, his thumb resting on the hinge of your jaw. A cavernous wanting cracks open in your chest, something you have been resisting for far too long. You press closer, intent on climbing your way into his lap and carrying on right where you last left off - 

Something sharp and painful twists in your back, protesting the way you lean over him. A pained sound filters through your gritted teeth and Joel pulls back, concern written all over his face. You try to brush it off and draw him back to you, but he isn’t having it. He doesn’t have to voice the question for you to know the question that lingers in his eyes. 

“I just strained my back a little, it’s okay.” You reassure him, your hand brushing his stubbled cheek. “You don’t need to worry. I promise.” 

He studies you for a moment, something unknown blooming in his gaze. “How about a massage?” 

Part of you wants to argue that you're fine, that you just want to keep kissing him until you lose all sense - but you can't resist the allure of those strong hands on your body. Joel moves the coffee table out of the way and turns to find you tugging your tank top off. You never thought you could feel irresistible in just a sports bra and leggings, but the way Joel’s gaze lingers… the man looks like he could eat you alive. His eyes never leave you as you stretch out on the fluffy rug that lies in front of the fireplace. The heat of the fire feels like heaven against your bare skin. Your breath catches as he straddles your hips, careful not to press too much of his weight into you. 

His voice is low in your ear. “Where does it hurt, baby?” 

“My shoulders and my lower back.” You reply, trying your best not to sound as breathless as you feel. 

Joel gets right to it. His hands find the base of your neck first, carefully kneading the knots out of your muscles. The tension slowly begins to melt away under his firm, methodical touch. It's the perfect kind of ache, right on the cusp of pain but so damn good at the same time. He takes his time, lavishing every inch of your shoulders with attention. Every firm press of his fingers draws a pleased groan from your lips. A shiver wracks your body as the pain is replaced with a warm pulse of relief.

“Oh my god…” You groan as you bury your face in your arms. 

“How ya feelin’?” He murmurs. 

“Good,” You damn near sound drunk. “So good.” 

Joel chuckles low in his throat as he shifts to your lower back. It would be impossible to miss the tightness in your muscles. The worst of the pain lingers there - but it's no match for Joel’s strong hands. The sounds you make are downright pornographic. You haven't felt this relaxed in years. Joel's fingers dig in harder with every little sound you make, his breath becoming shaky. The effect you have on him is so painfully clear and you just know you're already addicted to it.

His hands come to rest at the small of your back, his thumbs tracing arcs along your skin. His fingertips dip just beneath the waistband of your leggings. The soft touch tickles, makes you shift beneath him and… oh. You can just barely feel his cock straining against the thick denim of his jeans. Joel draws in a breath through clenched teeth, his fingers digging harder into your flesh.

“I bet your legs are achin’, too.” There's a gruffness in his voice that hides beneath that faux contemplation. His huge palms squeeze the back of your thighs, his thumbs pressed so close to your core. “Aren't they, darlin’?” 

It takes a moment for the realization to surface in your blissed-out mind - he's asking for permission. You grant it without a second thought. 

“Mhmm,” You hum indulgently, shifting your hips beneath him. “Gonna take care of me, cowboy?”

Joel pushes his hand between your thighs and palms your cunt through your leggings. He draws in a shuddering breath. “I always take care of my girl.”

 You arch into the touch with a whimper of his name. That’s the only encouragement he needs to manhandle you onto your back. The two of you work in tandem with impatient, fumbling hands to tug away the few layers of clothes that still separate you. You manage to strip him down to his briefs before Joel grabs your thighs and pulls you closer, leaving you flat on your back beneath him. Vulnerable in the most enticing, aching way. His tongue flicks out along his bottom lip as he takes in the way you look beneath him, all that skin finally bared to his greedy gaze. 

Joel doesn’t give you long to admire him before he slinks down your body, his eyes never leaving yours. You spread your legs further, little murmurs of ‘yes, yes, yes’ falling from your lips in an endless stream of pleas. There’s no room to feel ashamed of your desperation. You’re too consumed with the need to feel that sinful tongue right where you need it most - and Joel is nothing if not a giver. His shaky exhale ghosts across your soaked cunt, cooling the slick that already coats your inner thighs. His eyes flick back to yours as his tongue curls a long, slow pass up your slit. 

Your head falls back as the heat of his tongue blossoms through your core. Joel groans against you and something in him seems to break. His tongue swirls over your clit with a frenzied need that makes your hips jerk in surprise. The grip he has on your thighs tightens, holding you open right where he wants you. There’s no use in biting your tongue - even if you didn’t love what your sounds do to him, you couldn’t hold back if you tried. You grind against his face, breathy moans escaping your lips with every exhale. Every little sound you make is met with one of his own. He licks and sucks at your most sensitive places, feasting on your cunt like a man starved. It strikes you just how much he loves this. He’s fucking good at it, too - attentive and thorough and so fucking hungry. 

You can’t stop yourself from burying your fingers in his hair and digging your heel into his shoulder, grinding down against that sinful tongue. Two calloused fingers glide along your cunt before one sinks in, quickly followed by the other. His fingers are so thick, curling and stretching until all you can do is tremble beneath him. It doesn’t take long for him to find that sweet spot that has your cunt fluttering around him. Pleasure pools low in your belly and your skin prickles in anticipation as he drives you ever closer to that sweet edge - and he can’t get enough of it. 

You look down to find his eyes still locked on you, roiling with darkness even in the flickering firelight. It’s the fiery determination in those pretty eyes that finally does it. You fall apart beneath him, crying his name with every flush of pleasure that falls over you. Joel makes a feral sound, mangled and trapped in his throat. He doesn’t - no, he can’t stop; his tongue swirls slow circles over your clit until you’re trembling in the aftershocks. His fingers slip from your sensitive cunt, only to dig into your thighs and keep you anchored to his mouth. You know fingertip-shaped bruises will mottle your soft skin soon. You revel at the thought. It isn’t until you whine for him to stop, that it’s too much, that he finally relents. 

“So good… my sweet fuckin’ girl.” He murmurs, a possessive edge dripping from his tone. Joel sits back and admires the mess he’s made of you. His hands never leave your body. They trail up and down your thighs, then along your sides and back again. Worshipful. Doting. Greedy. 

The shiver of sensitivity isn’t enough to quell the need that pulses through your body with every beat of your heart. You push yourself up and drag him into a kiss, reveling in the taste of yourself still lingering on his tongue. There’s nothing refined about it, but that’s what you need. You don’t want perfectly poised Joel and the guarded gaze that hides him from the world. You want this - the unraveled Joel, all tongue and teeth and roaming hands. The Joel that chokes on your name as your fingers lightly graze along his cock. The Joel that looks at you with a fire in your eyes that burns away even the coldest Wyoming winter. 

Joel’s head falls back as you stroke his cock, his breath stuttering in his chest. You can’t resist the temptation of his neck and your lips quickly find a home there. His huge hand cups the back of your head, holding you close as your lips and teeth worry marks into his skin. His hips jerk up to meet your hand and a deliciously needy sound meets your ears. A thrill shoots through you at the effect you have on him. It’s heady, addictive. 

It doesn’t take much urging to get him right where you want him - leaned back against the couch with you in his lap. Your impatience gets the better of you the moment you feel the weight of cock press against your inner thigh. He watches you with a heavy, lust-drunk gaze as you sink onto him slowly. Even with the preparation of his fingers and tongue, you aren't ready for the stretch - a sweet, aching sensation that steals the breath from your lungs. Your eyes flutter shut as you settle into his lap, his cock twitching deep in your belly. 

“That’s it… that’s my girl.” The possessive praise slips down your spine, hot and syrupy. He can’t keep his hands in one place. They glide along your back and squeeze at your thighs, his nails digging into your soft skin. It isn’t to urge you on, to guide you into movement. Only to feel you against him, every inch of your skin against his. His words are quiet and gruff, full of reverence. “Take your time, baby.” 

You were never good at taking instructions. 

Your hips grind down into his lap, driving him impossibly deeper. Twin groans melt into the hot air that surrounds you. One hand braces against the edge of the couch, the other anchored at the curve where his neck and shoulder meet. His hands tighten at your hips, a bruising grip that only encourages every rise and fall of your hips. Your breath leaves you in a rush every time you bottom out, forced from your lungs by the sheer depths he reaches. A rough curse falls from his lips as you keep that pace, relentless in your chase for more. Joel’s lips find yours in a messy rush of tongue and teeth. His touch brands into every inch of your skin, sears his claim with every bruise and bite. All you can feel and taste and smell is him. He surrounds you until all that exists is this. 

Divine. 

Joel leans back just enough to get a good look at the mess he’s made of you. Your skin sweat-slick and littered with his marks, your teeth sunk into your lower lip, your thighs trembling with every rock of your hips. You’ve never felt more beautiful than in this moment. More desirable. More seen. His gaze darkens as it falls to your cunt, pupils dilating as he watches you take him over and over again. 

The sight must break the trance you’ve put him under. His hips jerk up to meet yours and the sudden movement sends you reeling. The embers of lingering sensitivity reignite as Joel fucks up into you. He drags you down by your waist to meet every thrust - all you can do is take it. The bite of your nails into his shoulders only encourages him. Every thrust grinds into that sweet spot so hard your vision goes spotty. Your eyes flutter shut, content to let him drag you over the edge again. Until his hand grips your jaw and draws your face close to his. 

“Eyes on me.” Joel rasps. “Y’look so pretty when you come for me. Let me see you, baby.” 

All you can do is whine his name and lean into his hand, but Joel is all too happy to keep you held there. Right where he wants you. Your cunt tightens around him, pulses with every beat of your heart. It’s plain on his face how it damn near sends him over the edge. His lips parted and his brows furrowed. Those breathless sounds flow without restraint. He watches you with those intent eyes, taking in every reaction you give him. 

All you can do is cling to him as another orgasm unfurls in your belly, explosive and devastating. Joel’s thrusts stutter but don’t stop, and it feels never-ending. It consumes you, washes over the essence of your very being until you’re left trembling in its wake. Joel whispers his encouragement, laced with gruff curses that descend into choked-off moans as he spills inside of you. 

The world goes still. The room fills with the sound of soft panting and the crackle of firewood. You feel weightless, lost in the warmth of his body beneath you. Joel blinks up at you, his eyes glossy with satisfaction but no less intent. He studies your face for a beat and you just smile back, a dizzied little grin that tells him everything he needs to know. You see a hint of a smirk curl the edge of his lips before he draws you into a messy kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth and his taste draws a satisfied moan from you. He drinks it in, ever greedy for anything and everything you give him. 

You don’t know what it is - the back-breaking start to your day, the two orgasms, or the pure relief of being in his arms - but it takes a while for your thoughts to come forth through the daze. It’s strange to feel so exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. Joel’s warm, calloused hands rub up and down your back, over and over in an endless path that leaves you sleepy against his chest. The position… isn’t great. You can already feel the ache budding in your knees, but you don’t want to move. All you want is to feel the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath you. 

It doesn’t take him long to notice. 

“C’mon, baby,” Joel murmurs. You can feel the vibration of his voice against you, deep and lulling. He squeezes your hips in an attempt to get you moving. “Gonna be hurtin’ all over again if we keep this up.” 

You hum a noncommittal sound, busying yourself with the taste of his skin on your tongue. He tastes of sweat and woodsmoke and something so distinctly Joel. You can’t help but tease along his collarbone with your teeth and tongue. Joel’s resolve crumbles under the heat of your touch. He squeezes your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You can feel his softening cock twitch inside you with every open-mouthed kiss you press into his skin. It doesn’t take long to find the perfect spot - that strong cord of muscle where his shoulder and neck meet. You worry your teeth against it before soothing it with a soft lick, only to repeat it over and over until a dark mark settles into his skin. You lean back with a satisfied hum to take in the little piece of artwork you’ve bitten into him. 

He blinks at you dazedly. He squeezes your waist as if assuring himself this is real, that you’re truly here. The confirmation seems to clear the haze in those pretty brown eyes. 

“How about a bath?” He asks, still a little breathless. 

You have to give him credit - he knows just the right buttons to push.

Moments later, you find yourself perched on the bathroom counter, naked as the day you were born, as he draws a scalding bath - just the way you like it. Joel sits against the edge of the bathtub, his hand cupped beneath the stream of water to monitor its temperature. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to fall on you. You give him a smile - soft, satisfied, a little sleepy. His gaze trails down your body, lingering on the various marks that have just started to truly show. His marks, the ones he branded into you with his hands and his teeth. You never thought someone could look so sated yet starving at the same time. 

That look lingers as he helps you lower into the hot water, as you coax him in alongside you, as he settles you against his chest, his chin resting on your shoulder. It never falters as he drags a soapy washcloth over your skin or when you demand he let you show him the same attention. It’s still there when your fingers turn pruny and the water loses most of its heat, and he finally pulls you from the bath. 

He doesn’t leave your home until the sun begins to set, painting the skies with bright oranges and pinks. He leaves you on the couch, tucked under a soft blanket with your book in your hands. With a soft kiss, he promises to come back once he makes sure Ellie is settled in at home rather than off in some kind of trouble. He returns an hour later, his cheeks tinged pink from the frigid air. It takes one look at you for him to collapse into you, ignoring the ‘oof’ sound you give when his weight fully sinks into you. The cold tip of his nose presses into your neck and he shoves his hands beneath your back, and you swear you only complain a little as he warms himself up with your body. 

The weight of his body is comforting. Your fingers rake through the curls at the back of his head and you can’t help but chuckle at the pleased groan Joel gives in return. Your free hand props your book up on his shoulder. Something warm and content settles in your chest, fills the spaces between your ribs with belonging. This is all you could need in this life. The glowing embers in your fireplace, a good book to get lost in, and Joel Miller softly snoring on your chest. You let a few chapters pass before accepting the sleepiness that tugs at your eyelids. 

“Joel,” You run a firm hand down his spine, gently coaxing him to the waking world. “Baby, you’re falling asleep.” 

Joel just shifts slightly on top of you, muttering a completely dignified ‘nuh-uh’ into your chest. You huff out a laugh. Ridiculous. You nudge his ribs with your knee. 

“C’mon, Joel. I’d much rather have you in my bed.” 

You secure the reins to a nearby tree and trudge through the thick blanket of snow until you find a good spot to lie on your belly. The rifle is frigid against your cheek as you settle in for a shot so easy that it almost feels unfair. But winter is hard and a buck that size could feed a lot of hungry mouths back home. A stillness settles over you as you line up the shot. Muscle memory takes over; in the lull between breaths, your finger squeezes the trigger. The bullet enters just below the shoulder. The buck lurches and staggers a few futile steps before it falls a few yards away, staining the untouched snow crimson. 

By the time you get the buck secured on Scout’s back, you’re soaked in sweat and the sun is high in the sky, still lurking behind the clouds. Every inch of your body aches. A particular stiffness has made its home in your legs and back, the kind that only comes from straddling a horse for hours on end. Hauling yourself up into the saddle with your weary arms is a herculean effort. You give Scout a grateful pat as the two of you begin the trek back to Jackson. Both of you deserve a good meal and some rest after all this hard work. You can feel the temptation of your bed calling your name. 

The bright rays of the early morning sun finally spill onto the earth as the clouds dissipate. You lean back with a hum, eagerly soaking in the warmth. These little things are all that keep you sane in the crazy world you’ve found yourself living in. A sunny day, some hot tea with a little honey, soft blankets to wrap yourself up in at night - and maybe the company of a good man. Your face warms even more at the thought of him. 

Joel Miller, the infamous eldest Miller brother, who may not be as cold as he makes himself out to be. Only a few days have passed since you coaxed him into your home in those early morning hours. You haven’t been able to get him off your mind since. His mere presence tugs at your very core, a siren song of stolen glances and secret smiles. The way he wants you leaves you breathless. It’s irrevocable in its wholeness and hunger, a little intimidating in its intensity. It should unnerve you; instead, you find yourself returning it wholeheartedly. You’ve learned the hard way to hold tight to any joy this world lets you have.

The walls of Jackson creep into view before you realize how much time has passed. The sound of those massive wooden gates groaning open sends relief washing over you. With a nudge of your heels at Scout’s sides, the two of you head for the mess hall at a slight jog. All you want is to drop off the game and collapse onto your couch for a long nap. 

Those thoughts drift away at the sight of Joel and Tommy making their way down the dirt road. That one glimpse is all your one-track mind needs to be right back on Joel. His head turns sharply as you call out his name and you wave your hand in the air to draw his eye. You can tell the exact moment he realizes it's you - he does a double-take and his broad shoulders draw back as he straightens his posture. Even from this distance, you can see the smile on his face. You can’t help but return it.

Tommy lets out a whistle as they draw closer. “Someone’s been busy!”

“I couldn’t get back to sleep thing morning, so I checked the snares early.” You admit with a shrug. “I might have gotten a little lucky on the way back.” 

“A little? This thing’s gotta be… what, two hundred pounds?” The pure admiration in Tommy’s voice makes your face heat up. The surge of pride warms you against the cold. 

“Probably more if my strained back is any proof.” You chuckle as you unhook your left foot from the stirrup. 

Tommy moves as if to help you down, but Joel steps in with a quiet, “I’ve got her.” You slip your hand into his and Joel eases you onto your feet. His other hand comes to rest on your lower back, his touch lingering as you stretch and shake out your stiff limbs. You don’t miss the knowing look Tommy gives you both, but all you can focus on his the weight of Joel’s hand against you. 

“Ya alright?” He murmurs. You can just barely feel his thumb caressing your back through the thick material of your coat. A small, soothing motion that makes you want to melt into him. 

“I’m okay. Just a little tired.” You reassure him softly, leaning into his touch without thinking about it. He offers you that small smile you adore. “I need to get this all taken care of but… Maybe we can catch up after if you aren’t busy.” 

Tommy interrupts before Joel can even open his mouth, telling you that you’ve done more than enough heavy lifting for one morning. You know better than to press the issue - no amount of arguing can ever change that stubborn man’s mind. Tommy slings an arm over Joel’s shoulder and jostles him with a playful grin. “Go on and take care of your girl, big brother.”

There’s no denying the flush of heat that rushes up your neck and cheeks. Joel’s girl. Your teeth sink into your lower lip in a vain attempt to hide the smile it brings. Joel shoves his little brother’s arm off and glares at him in return, but he isn’t fooling anyone. The rosy color that tints his cheeks and the tips of his ears suits him, you think. Joel pulls your hand up into the crook of his arm and leads you down the road toward your house. You don’t have to look to know Tommy is watching, probably with that same grin and a twinkle in his eye. 

The two of you walk in comfortable silence and you take a moment to appreciate how he looks in the morning sun. Even though he’s squinting against the brightness, you can see how the light transforms his pretty brown eyes. Warm and deep like the perfect cup of coffee on a lazy Sunday morning. You watch him, enraptured by the sight of his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. 

The crinkles around his eyes deepen as he directs his squinted gaze at you. “What are you starin’ for?”

“You’re handsome.” You say matter-of-factly. 

Your smile only grows when he rolls his eyes, a vain attempt to hide how he preens under the compliment. He mutters something about ‘not needing to butter him up’ but he still walks a little taller nonetheless. The years seem to disappear in moments like this. His eyes shine a little brighter. The harsh clench of his teeth is easier to ease into a smile. You’ve watched the edge he carries start to soften these last few months in Jackson, something you remember all too well from that first strange year of adjusting. 

Joel gives you a soft smile as you push open your front door and lead him inside. He makes himself right at home, not hesitating to hang up his coat and tuck his boots next to yours. With the heaviest layers discarded, you finally surrender to the urge to get your hands on him. Joel hums low in his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist and squeezes you tightly. You weren't the only one aching for a little comfort. 

“Fuck, I'm so tired.” You grumble, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “I didn't realize just how bad it was until now.” 

“You've been runnin' around all morning on no sleep, sweetheart.” His hands rub up and down your back soothingly. “I was thinking I could get a fire goin’ while you relax. I’ll even make some of that tea you like. How does that sound?” 

Something in your chest loosens, a tension you didn’t realize you were carrying. Such thoughtfulness and kindness have been in short supply these last few years. You can count on one hand how many times someone has been so attentive. The simple act of being seen - you didn’t realize just how much you’ve missed it. It’s enough to have you like putty in the palm of his hands. 

“That sounds perfect.” You say as you press up on your toes, your nose brushing his. “But I need a kiss first, Mr. Miller.” 

Joel chuckles before he gives you exactly what you want, just a soft and sweet kiss. The warmth of his palm on your cheek brings back memories of that night. The way he tugged you into his lap. The heat of his tongue and teeth at your neck. The desperate curiosity of his hands exploring your body for the first time. The memory leaves you a little dazed and needy, warmth simmering low in your belly. Even this chaste kiss exposes how much you ache for him - your fingers curl into his flannel, keeping him close as your lips linger a hair's breadth apart. He gives you one last kiss before he pulls away. 

“Go get comfortable, baby.” He says with a playful pat on your behind before disappearing into your kitchen. 

It isn’t long before you find yourself curled up on the couch in your tank top and leggings with a steaming mug of tea in your hands. Another mug waits on the coffee table as Joel tosses some wood into the fireplace. You indulge yourself in the sight he makes kneeling on the hardwood. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up past his elbow to expose his forearms. His eyebrows draw together in focus as he patiently coaxes a flame from the dry wood. Warmth curls through the room as the fire catches and spreads across the logs and twigs. He stands with a small groan and stretches, the hem of his shirt riding up to expose his soft belly. 

A small smirk crosses his face when he sees you watching him so eagerly. Joel snags his mug and settles in next to you, welcoming you into his arms with ease. The two of you talk about the last few days - your hunting, his construction projects, the smallest ins and outs of the time not spent together. The rumble of his chest relaxes you even more than the tea ever could. His palm strokes along your shoulder and arm absentmindedly as he listens to you rant about the latest spat with your neighbor. 

“She swears up and down that my bedroom light keeps her up all night. She even complained to Maria about it!” You’ve sat up straight at this point, your hands waving about as you speak. “Joel. My bedroom doesn’t even face her house!” 

“That woman could start a fight in an empty house. Can’t take anything she says to heart.” Joel scoffs, his voice laced with irritation. You can’t help but laugh at the genuine exasperation in his voice. “What? You can’t tell me she isn’t a massive pain in the ass.” 

“No, she definitely is.” You say as you sit up to get a good look at him. “I just missed you and your southern-isms is all.” 

“My ‘southern-isms’?” He teases. His eyes flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze once more. “Is that all you missed?” 

“Hmmm,” You hum in faux contemplation as you lean closer, your fingers toying with the buttons of his flannel. “Maybe not all I missed…” 

Joel doesn’t hesitate. His calloused hand cups your jaw and he pulls you into a kiss. His tongue glides along the seam of your lips and you part them without pause. Joel groans as your tongue meets his, sitting up until he practically looms over you. His other hand falls to your waist and tightens as if to trap you there. As if you could imagine ever trying to break free of him. Kissing Joel is as easy as breathing - a natural, aching need that you’re sure would kill you if not sated. 

You slowly undo the buttons of his flannel until the soft material falls down his shoulders, quickly shoved off by Joel’s intent hands. It’s so easy to fall into him, to lean into his warmth and lose yourself in his touch. The day’s pains fade as his hand drifts down to your neck, his thumb resting on the hinge of your jaw. A cavernous wanting cracks open in your chest, something you have been resisting for far too long. You press closer, intent on climbing your way into his lap and carrying on right where you last left off - 

Something sharp and painful twists in your back, protesting the way you lean over him. A pained sound filters through your gritted teeth and Joel pulls back, concern written all over his face. You try to brush it off and draw him back to you, but he isn’t having it. He doesn’t have to voice the question for you to know the question that lingers in his eyes. 

“I just strained my back a little, it’s okay.” You reassure him, your hand brushing his stubbled cheek. “You don’t need to worry. I promise.” 

He studies you for a moment, something unknown blooming in his gaze. “How about a massage?” 

Part of you wants to argue that you're fine, that you just want to keep kissing him until you lose all sense - but you can't resist the allure of those strong hands on your body. Joel moves the coffee table out of the way and turns to find you tugging your tank top off. You never thought you could feel irresistible in just a sports bra and leggings, but the way Joel’s gaze lingers… the man looks like he could eat you alive. His eyes never leave you as you stretch out on the fluffy rug that lies in front of the fireplace. The heat of the fire feels like heaven against your bare skin. Your breath catches as he straddles your hips, careful not to press too much of his weight into you. 

His voice is low in your ear. “Where does it hurt, baby?” 

“My shoulders and my lower back.” You reply, trying your best not to sound as breathless as you feel. 

Joel gets right to it. His hands find the base of your neck first, carefully kneading the knots out of your muscles. The tension slowly begins to melt away under his firm, methodical touch. It's the perfect kind of ache, right on the cusp of pain but so damn good at the same time. He takes his time, lavishing every inch of your shoulders with attention. Every firm press of his fingers draws a pleased groan from your lips. A shiver wracks your body as the pain is replaced with a warm pulse of relief.

“Oh my god…” You groan as you bury your face in your arms. 

“How ya feelin’?” He murmurs. 

“Good,” You damn near sound drunk. “So good.” 

Joel chuckles low in his throat as he shifts to your lower back. It would be impossible to miss the tightness in your muscles. The worst of the pain lingers there - but it's no match for Joel’s strong hands. The sounds you make are downright pornographic. You haven't felt this relaxed in years. Joel's fingers dig in harder with every little sound you make, his breath becoming shaky. The effect you have on him is so painfully clear and you just know you're already addicted to it.

His hands come to rest at the small of your back, his thumbs tracing arcs along your skin. His fingertips dip just beneath the waistband of your leggings. The soft touch tickles, makes you shift beneath him and… oh. You can just barely feel his cock straining against the thick denim of his jeans. Joel draws in a breath through clenched teeth, his fingers digging harder into your flesh.

“I bet your legs are achin’, too.” There's a gruffness in his voice that hides beneath that faux contemplation. His huge palms squeeze the back of your thighs, his thumbs pressed so close to your core. “Aren't they, darlin’?” 

It takes a moment for the realization to surface in your blissed-out mind - he's asking for permission. You grant it without a second thought. 

“Mhmm,” You hum indulgently, shifting your hips beneath him. “Gonna take care of me, cowboy?”

Joel pushes his hand between your thighs and palms your cunt through your leggings. He draws in a shuddering breath. “I always take care of my girl.”

 You arch into the touch with a whimper of his name. That’s the only encouragement he needs to manhandle you onto your back. The two of you work in tandem with impatient, fumbling hands to tug away the few layers of clothes that still separate you. You manage to strip him down to his briefs before Joel grabs your thighs and pulls you closer, leaving you flat on your back beneath him. Vulnerable in the most enticing, aching way. His tongue flicks out along his bottom lip as he takes in the way you look beneath him, all that skin finally bared to his greedy gaze. 

Joel doesn’t give you long to admire him before he slinks down your body, his eyes never leaving yours. You spread your legs further, little murmurs of ‘yes, yes, yes’ falling from your lips in an endless stream of pleas. There’s no room to feel ashamed of your desperation. You’re too consumed with the need to feel that sinful tongue right where you need it most - and Joel is nothing if not a giver. His shaky exhale ghosts across your soaked cunt, cooling the slick that already coats your inner thighs. His eyes flick back to yours as his tongue curls a long, slow pass up your slit. 

Your head falls back as the heat of his tongue blossoms through your core. Joel groans against you and something in him seems to break. His tongue swirls over your clit with a frenzied need that makes your hips jerk in surprise. The grip he has on your thighs tightens, holding you open right where he wants you. There’s no use in biting your tongue - even if you didn’t love what your sounds do to him, you couldn’t hold back if you tried. You grind against his face, breathy moans escaping your lips with every exhale. Every little sound you make is met with one of his own. He licks and sucks at your most sensitive places, feasting on your cunt like a man starved. It strikes you just how much he loves this. He’s fucking good at it, too - attentive and thorough and so fucking hungry. 

You can’t stop yourself from burying your fingers in his hair and digging your heel into his shoulder, grinding down against that sinful tongue. Two calloused fingers glide along your cunt before one sinks in, quickly followed by the other. His fingers are so thick, curling and stretching until all you can do is tremble beneath him. It doesn’t take long for him to find that sweet spot that has your cunt fluttering around him. Pleasure pools low in your belly and your skin prickles in anticipation as he drives you ever closer to that sweet edge - and he can’t get enough of it. 

You look down to find his eyes still locked on you, roiling with darkness even in the flickering firelight. It’s the fiery determination in those pretty eyes that finally does it. You fall apart beneath him, crying his name with every flush of pleasure that falls over you. Joel makes a feral sound, mangled and trapped in his throat. He doesn’t - no, he can’t stop; his tongue swirls slow circles over your clit until you’re trembling in the aftershocks. His fingers slip from your sensitive cunt, only to dig into your thighs and keep you anchored to his mouth. You know fingertip-shaped bruises will mottle your soft skin soon. You revel at the thought. It isn’t until you whine for him to stop, that it’s too much, that he finally relents. 

“So good… my sweet fuckin’ girl.” He murmurs, a possessive edge dripping from his tone. Joel sits back and admires the mess he’s made of you. His hands never leave your body. They trail up and down your thighs, then along your sides and back again. Worshipful. Doting. Greedy. 

The shiver of sensitivity isn’t enough to quell the need that pulses through your body with every beat of your heart. You push yourself up and drag him into a kiss, reveling in the taste of yourself still lingering on his tongue. There’s nothing refined about it, but that’s what you need. You don’t want perfectly poised Joel and the guarded gaze that hides him from the world. You want this - the unraveled Joel, all tongue and teeth and roaming hands. The Joel that chokes on your name as your fingers lightly graze along his cock. The Joel that looks at you with a fire in your eyes that burns away even the coldest Wyoming winter. 

Joel’s head falls back as you stroke his cock, his breath stuttering in his chest. You can’t resist the temptation of his neck and your lips quickly find a home there. His huge hand cups the back of your head, holding you close as your lips and teeth worry marks into his skin. His hips jerk up to meet your hand and a deliciously needy sound meets your ears. A thrill shoots through you at the effect you have on him. It’s heady, addictive. 

It doesn’t take much urging to get him right where you want him - leaned back against the couch with you in his lap. Your impatience gets the better of you the moment you feel the weight of cock press against your inner thigh. He watches you with a heavy, lust-drunk gaze as you sink onto him slowly. Even with the preparation of his fingers and tongue, you aren't ready for the stretch - a sweet, aching sensation that steals the breath from your lungs. Your eyes flutter shut as you settle into his lap, his cock twitching deep in your belly. 

“That’s it… that’s my girl.” The possessive praise slips down your spine, hot and syrupy. He can’t keep his hands in one place. They glide along your back and squeeze at your thighs, his nails digging into your soft skin. It isn’t to urge you on, to guide you into movement. Only to feel you against him, every inch of your skin against his. His words are quiet and gruff, full of reverence. “Take your time, baby.” 

You were never good at taking instructions. 

Your hips grind down into his lap, driving him impossibly deeper. Twin groans melt into the hot air that surrounds you. One hand braces against the edge of the couch, the other anchored at the curve where his neck and shoulder meet. His hands tighten at your hips, a bruising grip that only encourages every rise and fall of your hips. Your breath leaves you in a rush every time you bottom out, forced from your lungs by the sheer depths he reaches. A rough curse falls from his lips as you keep that pace, relentless in your chase for more. Joel’s lips find yours in a messy rush of tongue and teeth. His touch brands into every inch of your skin, sears his claim with every bruise and bite. All you can feel and taste and smell is him. He surrounds you until all that exists is this. 

Divine. 

Joel leans back just enough to get a good look at the mess he’s made of you. Your skin sweat-slick and littered with his marks, your teeth sunk into your lower lip, your thighs trembling with every rock of your hips. You’ve never felt more beautiful than in this moment. More desirable. More seen. His gaze darkens as it falls to your cunt, pupils dilating as he watches you take him over and over again. 

The sight must break the trance you’ve put him under. His hips jerk up to meet yours and the sudden movement sends you reeling. The embers of lingering sensitivity reignite as Joel fucks up into you. He drags you down by your waist to meet every thrust - all you can do is take it. The bite of your nails into his shoulders only encourages him. Every thrust grinds into that sweet spot so hard your vision goes spotty. Your eyes flutter shut, content to let him drag you over the edge again. Until his hand grips your jaw and draws your face close to his. 

“Eyes on me.” Joel rasps. “Y’look so pretty when you come for me. Let me see you, baby.” 

All you can do is whine his name and lean into his hand, but Joel is all too happy to keep you held there. Right where he wants you. Your cunt tightens around him, pulses with every beat of your heart. It’s plain on his face how it damn near sends him over the edge. His lips parted and his brows furrowed. Those breathless sounds flow without restraint. He watches you with those intent eyes, taking in every reaction you give him. 

All you can do is cling to him as another orgasm unfurls in your belly, explosive and devastating. Joel’s thrusts stutter but don’t stop, and it feels never-ending. It consumes you, washes over the essence of your very being until you’re left trembling in its wake. Joel whispers his encouragement, laced with gruff curses that descend into choked-off moans as he spills inside of you. 

The world goes still. The room fills with the sound of soft panting and the crackle of firewood. You feel weightless, lost in the warmth of his body beneath you. Joel blinks up at you, his eyes glossy with satisfaction but no less intent. He studies your face for a beat and you just smile back, a dizzied little grin that tells him everything he needs to know. You see a hint of a smirk curl the edge of his lips before he draws you into a messy kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth and his taste draws a satisfied moan from you. He drinks it in, ever greedy for anything and everything you give him. 

You don’t know what it is - the back-breaking start to your day, the two orgasms, or the pure relief of being in his arms - but it takes a while for your thoughts to come forth through the daze. It’s strange to feel so exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. Joel’s warm, calloused hands rub up and down your back, over and over in an endless path that leaves you sleepy against his chest. The position… isn’t great. You can already feel the ache budding in your knees, but you don’t want to move. All you want is to feel the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath you. 

It doesn’t take him long to notice. 

“C’mon, baby,” Joel murmurs. You can feel the vibration of his voice against you, deep and lulling. He squeezes your hips in an attempt to get you moving. “Gonna be hurtin’ all over again if we keep this up.” 

You hum a noncommittal sound, busying yourself with the taste of his skin on your tongue. He tastes of sweat and woodsmoke and something so distinctly Joel. You can’t help but tease along his collarbone with your teeth and tongue. Joel’s resolve crumbles under the heat of your touch. He squeezes your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You can feel his softening cock twitch inside you with every open-mouthed kiss you press into his skin. It doesn’t take long to find the perfect spot - that strong cord of muscle where his shoulder and neck meet. You worry your teeth against it before soothing it with a soft lick, only to repeat it over and over until a dark mark settles into his skin. You lean back with a satisfied hum to take in the little piece of artwork you’ve bitten into him. 

He blinks at you dazedly. He squeezes your waist as if assuring himself this is real, that you’re truly here. The confirmation seems to clear the haze in those pretty brown eyes. 

“How about a bath?” He asks, still a little breathless. 

You have to give him credit - he knows just the right buttons to push.

Moments later, you find yourself perched on the bathroom counter, naked as the day you were born, as he draws a scalding bath - just the way you like it. Joel sits against the edge of the bathtub, his hand cupped beneath the stream of water to monitor its temperature. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to fall on you. You give him a smile - soft, satisfied, a little sleepy. His gaze trails down your body, lingering on the various marks that have just started to truly show. His marks, the ones he branded into you with his hands and his teeth. You never thought someone could look so sated yet starving at the same time. 

That look lingers as he helps you lower into the hot water, as you coax him in alongside you, as he settles you against his chest, his chin resting on your shoulder. It never falters as he drags a soapy washcloth over your skin or when you demand he let you show him the same attention. It’s still there when your fingers turn pruny and the water loses most of its heat, and he finally pulls you from the bath. 

He doesn’t leave your home until the sun begins to set, painting the skies with bright oranges and pinks. He leaves you on the couch, tucked under a soft blanket with your book in your hands. With a soft kiss, he promises to come back once he makes sure Ellie is settled in at home rather than off in some kind of trouble. He returns an hour later, his cheeks tinged pink from the frigid air. It takes one look at you for him to collapse into you, ignoring the ‘oof’ sound you give when his weight fully sinks into you. The cold tip of his nose presses into your neck and he shoves his hands beneath your back, and you swear you only complain a little as he warms himself up with your body. 

The weight of his body is comforting. Your fingers rake through the curls at the back of his head and you can’t help but chuckle at the pleased groan Joel gives in return. Your free hand props your book up on his shoulder. Something warm and content settles in your chest, fills the spaces between your ribs with belonging. This is all you could need in this life. The glowing embers in your fireplace, a good book to get lost in, and Joel Miller softly snoring on your chest. You let a few chapters pass before accepting the sleepiness that tugs at your eyelids. 

“Joel,” You run a firm hand down his spine, gently coaxing him to the waking world. “Baby, you’re falling asleep.” 

Joel just shifts slightly on top of you, muttering a completely dignified ‘nuh-uh’ into your chest. You huff out a laugh. Ridiculous. You nudge his ribs with your knee. 

“C’mon, Joel. I’d much rather have you in my bed.” 

You don’t bother trying to resist when he pulls you onto your back with practiced ease. This is a dance you’ve done too many times to count. He’s early to rise and impatient to wake you every morning without fail. Your eyes flutter open, squinting against the sunrise despite its softness. It’s early - too early. Your fingers tangle in his mess of curls and you let your eyes close, if only to block out the offending light. You’re all too content to lie there basking in the warmth of the sun and the curiosity that follows his wandering touch. His kisses trail aimlessly wherever he pleases; along your cheeks, over your fluttering eyelashes, to the tip of your nose. By the time he finally captures your lips, you’re drifting in that soft space somewhere between sleep and consciousness.

“Good morning,” Javier murmurs. You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Too early,” You sigh in response, not bothering to open your eyes. 

“Let me make it up to you.” 

Javier moves to settle over you and you make space for him without thought, your thighs spread around his own. You blink up at him with a sleepy smile on your face. You’ve always loved how he looks fresh from sleep. Mussed and messy, his curls sticking up every which way. His touch is slow and meandering, content to simply feel you beneath his palms. He looks at you with such reverence, such intense focus - it feels like you hold the center of his universe in the palm of your hands. 

You’ve never been able to resist him. Javier hums a pleased little sound when you pull him closer for another kiss. His hands are hot and insistent, slipping up your shirt - his shirt - until there’s nowhere else for it to go but off. Your underwear is quick to follow under his eager hands, tugged down your thighs and tossed to the floor. He’s just so easy to get lost in. His kisses become more persistent, tinged with a hunger you recognize all too well. Heat blossoms beneath your skin, spreading with every beat of your heart. 

Your thighs tighten around his waist, hips arching up to grind against the bulge of his cock still trapped in his briefs. The friction of the soft cotton, the sweet little sound it pulls from your lips, only spurs him on. A low moan leaves him as he dips down to drag his teeth along the column of your throat. 

Your nails find purchase in the taut muscle of his shoulders. Javier presses you into the mattress, hips rolling down against you in long, languid strokes. It’s impossible to think straight, impossible to make a decision; part of you wants to beg him to rip through the thin piece of fabric that separates you and fuck you until you can’t breathe. But this feels so good - just two impulsive, eager bodies desperate to feel every inch of one another. You press your head back into the pillows as his lips press against your nipple, his warm mouth engulfing the sensitive bud. 

In this moment, the only thing that exists in this world is him - his tongue, his hands, the relentless grinding of his clothed cock against your cunt. It’s only this moment lost in the shimmer of an early morning usually spent stealing kisses before he slips out the door to work. A flicker of clarity breaks through the cloud of desire, some echo of responsibility drawing to the forefront of your mind. 

“Wait -” You sigh. Javier doesn’t pause, all too caught up in lavishing your breasts with attention. You tug at the curls at the back of his neck. “Javi, wait! Don’t you have work?”

Javier just shakes his head before flicking his tongue against your nipple. Fucking tease. “Called out.” 

“Why?” You ask through a breathless laugh. 

“Oh, amor,” He gives you that cocky grin you adore. “We have plans, remember?” 

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. There are no appointments today, no huge tasks that demand an entire day away from the office. You tick through the running list of to-dos stuck to the refrigerator - donate old clothes, clean out the eaves, find a contractor for the bathroom renovation, finally tackle the spring cleaning you’ve been putting off for weeks. Nothing important enough to pull him away from work for an entire day.  

“Alright, you’ve got me.” You concede. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“My wife wants a baby.” He states matter-of-factly. You blink at him with wide eyes, your lips parted in surprise. Heat flushes up your chest and settles in your cheeks at a low simmer. Your heart feels like it might beat right out of your chest. He grabs your chin and kisses you soft and short before words can find you. His voice is gentle when he continues. “And what my wife wants, she gets.” 

All you can muster is a whisper of his name, your tone somewhere between surprise and awe. You’ve known how ready he was since the moment you nervously broached the topic a few months ago. He could barely bite back the grin on his face when he cradled your face in his hands and reminded you of the promise he made on your wedding night. That you would want for nothing, that he would put the world at your fingertips without a second thought. All you had to do was ask. 

“Been tracking your cycle.” He confesses. Anticipation curls into a tight knot in your belly at the glint in his dark eyes - bright with hunger but steadfast in his resolve. “Took the whole week off just for this.”

“You’re insane.” The teasing tone falls flat in the face of your desire. His fingertips glide along your sex, humming a pleased sound at how wet you already are. 

“Not insane.” There’s no missing the pride that clings to his words. He slips one finger inside of you, quickly followed by another, and curls them upward into that spot he knows so well. You can’t help the whine that leaves you as he slowly rubs your g-spot with that stupid grin playing at his lips.  “Just a man who keeps his promises.” 

He leans back slightly, just enough to watch your cunt pulse around his fingers with every little movement. There’s no hesitation in his touch - just well-rehearsed thrusts that unravel your very being from the moment he sets his pace. Your hips buck into his hand when his thumb rubs against your clit. You sigh his name, all pitched and breathy, and you swear you can see his pupils dilate at the sound. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” He coos, a tinge of pointed self-satisfaction creeping into his voice. It would drive you insane if it were unearned, but the pleasure building low in your belly proves him right. You can’t help but rock down into his touch. “Just achin’ for it, aren’t you?”

It isn’t fair for him to expect an answer when every crook of his fingers drags you further into that abyss of mindless pleasure - but he isn’t exactly known for being fair. 

“Gotta use your words,” He tuts at you. “Tell me what you want, baby.” 

Your lips part, a plea at the tip of your tongue - and his fingers move faster, zeroing in on that sensitive spot that replaces any conscious words with a sharp cry. Your back arches on instinct as a molten-hot spike of pleasure pulses through your body. 

“Don’t tease,” You whine, unashamed of the desperation that drips from every syllable. “I need you, Javi. Please.” 

It is unrepentant need that has you pawing at the waistband of his briefs until he helps you tug them down, stretched taut around his muscled thighs. Your teeth sink into your lower lip at the sight of his cock hanging heavy, so close to where you need it. There’s no resisting the temptation; your hand wraps around his cock and you revel in the feeling. The weight, the heat that emanates from him. So thick that your fingertips can’t touch. The first stroke of your fingers draws a low moan from your husband, his resolve already crumbling under your touch. You stroke him slowly, finally meeting his heavy gaze again. 

“I want you to put a baby in me.”

His fingers slow to a crawl inside you. His eyes slip closed as he draws in a long breath, only fluttering open again once he exhales. There’s a look that crosses his face, an intensity that you’ve come to know so well. A shiver slips down your spine and settles low in your belly. He usually revels in dragging honeyed pleas from your lips, in toying with you until you really beg. But this morning, with the intention that hangs thick in the air, those words are all it takes to snap the tenuous hold on his self control. 

You’re left achingly empty as his fingers slip away. Javier makes quick work of his last scrap of clothing, his briefs disappearing into the abyss with your own clothes. His cock slides along your dripping pussy with a slow, methodical roll of his hips. He lets out a quiet fuck as he feels you clench around nothing, your body enticing him back where he belongs. 

Your breath catches in your throat when the blunt head of his cock presses inside you. The stretch always catches you off guard, but this is different, more intense. Maybe you’re too used to an orgasm or three before he finally fucks you. Maybe it’s the knowledge of the claim he’s laying to your body, to your soul. He sinks into you in one slow, devastatingly deep roll of his hips, and you swear you can feel him in your stomach. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to keep him there, to pull him impossibly deeper. 

All you can do is squirm beneath him, whimpering his name in a plea for something, anything. The sight he makes only fuels the need burning through your veins. Javier’s eyes are closed, his lips parted to let short, rushed breaths escape him. His hands squeeze at your waist where he pins you to the bed, a pointed attempt to ground himself. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” His voice is rough, rumbling through his chest like a low roll of thunder. He all but collapses into you, one hand haphazardly braced beside your head as he gives in to that obsessive need to be as close to you as possible. The change in angle presses his cock snugly against your cervix and sends that dull ache of pleasure-pain rocking through your body. Your nails bite into his shoulders where you cling to him, drawing him in until his nose brushes yours. “Feels so fuckin’… God, you’re so good for me. My pretty little wife.” 

Javier tries to be still above you. He tries to let you catch your breath and adjust to the sudden fullness. He really does. Each breath ghosts across your skin in a staccato beat, followed by the soft melody of unsteady sounds on every exhale. His hips rock forward on their own volition - he’s barely even grinding against you, but it’s enough to have you both drawing in a sharp breath. He curses under his breath as if chastising himself, but he can’t stop. The slightest movement allows him to grind against your clit, coaxing the flames of your desire into a wildfire that burns through your core. 

It doesn’t help that you can’t stop touching him; your hands trail up the planes of his back, over his ribs, along his collarbone. Touching, caressing, scoring little marks into his skin with your nails. It’s all too much. Your fingertips trace a line along his jaw before finally curling in his hair and pulling him into a kiss. Javier moans against your lips, his tongue immediately seeking out the heat of your mouth.  He pulls out slowly before burying every inch back inside you. Testing, careful. Barely restrained. Your hips roll into his with his next too-slow, too-gentle thrust, and he practically whines. He takes it for the permission that it is, and that first real thrust sends you spiraling. 

The kiss breaks with a sound so uninhibited and raw that you barely recognize it coming from your lips. Your grip wrenches tighter in his hair and that sharp pinprick pain only spurs him on. Javier presses his forehead against yours, sharing your breath as he buries his cock as deep as your body will take him. Everything about it is devastating - the pressure against your clit, the unrelenting pace, the overwhelming fullness. And all you can do is take it, caged against the bed you share. 

There isn’t anywhere in the world you would rather be. 

You press a kiss to his lips before whispering against them, “I love you.” 

He chases your lips with an achingly needy sound, high in his throat, like nothing you’ve ever heard from him before. He whispers it back like a plea. I love you. I love you, baby. More than anything. The sincerity pours from him with every word, bleeds into desperation in how he fucks you. It takes every ounce of conscious thought to keep your eyes from rolling into the back of your head. Pleasure hitches in your belly, wavering on that fine line of devastation.

“‘M close,” You barely manage to gasp the words out. 

Javier pushes himself up just enough to see the aftermath of all his hard work. And if you thought he looked like a dream before, this must be heaven. He must have finally fucked you into an early grave because - holy fuck. He gazes down at you with wide eyes, the beautiful brown of his irises consumed by his blown-out pupils. The look he gives you is hungry but reverent - as if he can’t believe you’re here, you’re his, and he can never get enough. 

“Fuck. Fuck, baby you’re so -” His rambling breaks apart with a wounded sound. “- fuckin’ perfect. Made for me.” 

You’re so consumed by the heat threatening to boil over that you don’t realize his hand has slipped between your thighs until the rough pad of his thumb swipes against your clit - and you’re gone. That coil finally snaps and your back arches so violently that his pace falters. You can feel his gaze burning into you, eager to capture every millisecond of your pleasure. Sear each detail into his brain. You can barely make out his raw groan, the low murmuring of his praise. Fuck, that’s it, baby. That’s my girl. 

His hand flies to your hip, fingertips indenting your skin so hard you know they’ll bruise. The grip tightens and forces you down, and it's only then that you realize you’re writhing beneath him, begging with barely intelligible pleas. A faltering groan rips through his chest as he stills inside you, and the warmth that spreads through your core feels like nirvana. 

Every other sense goes hazy as the heat coursing through you lowers to a simmer. Your eyes feel too heavy to focus. Your ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. But you can feel him as Javier melts into you. You can feel his panting breaths where his face is tucked into your neck, cooling the sweat that clings to your skin. You can feel the rise and fall of your chest against his. You can feel the ache in your thighs, still pressed wide around his waist. You can feel his cock slowly softening inside of you, still twitching in a valiant effort to get hard again. All you can do is feel - as if every synapse in your brain can only focus on this while your consciousness slowly reboots. 

It isn’t until you shiver that Javier finally moves. The man runs hotter than a furnace, so your air conditioning works overtime to keep the house at a pleasantly cool temperature. But the slide of cold air against your bare skin is almost too much, too stimulating after it all. He shifts off of you with a grunt, shushing your displeased whine at the loss of his heat. Two fingers tap your hip. You crack one eye open to find him kneeling next to you, pillow in hand. 

“Lift.” He murmurs. 

A teasing smile twitches at the corner of your lips. “You’re ridiculous.” 

You do it anyway. 

“Well, you’re the one who married me, so I think that says more about you than me.” He teases right back. He shoves the pillow beneath your hips, a slight frown on his face as he adjusts it to his satisfaction. So concentrated, intent to get it right down to the most minute detail. He tugs a blanket over you both and settles in next to you with a heavy arm thrown over your belly to keep you close. His nose nudges your temple and he sighs, sounding so content that you fall for him all over again.  

A yawn takes you by surprise. “‘M tired, Javi.” 

“Mmm, I bet.” He presses a kiss just below your ear. “Take a nap, baby. Gonna need all the rest you can get.” 

You don’t remember falling asleep. There’s nothing in between the hazy memory of Javier burying his face in your neck and the growl of your stomach that wakes you. Every cell in your body thrums with an exhausted kind of satisfaction despite the protest of your empty stomach. Javier is still pressed against you, hasn’t moved an inch aside from the leg he’s hooked with yours. You let yourself savor his weight, his body heat, the steady rhythm of his breathing - until the hunger pangs get too annoying and you have no choice but to extricate yourself from his long limbs. It’s a slow process in your efforts not to wake him.

Your foot has just brushed the floor when Javier’s arms lock around your waist and he drags you back into the sheets. 

“Wh- Javi!” You wiggle around in his grasp in a half-hearted attempt to free yourself. You only stop when he nips at your shoulder, his sharp canines digging into your skin. “Ah, stop it!

“I’ll get it,” He grumbles as he kisses over the mark he left. “Whatever you want, I’ll get it. I’m not letting you out of this bed today.” 

“Oh?” You tease. “And how long do you plan on holding me hostage, Mr. Peña?” 

You don’t bother trying to resist when he pulls you onto your back with practiced ease. This is a dance you’ve done too many times to count. He’s early to rise and impatient to wake you every morning without fail. Your eyes flutter open, squinting against the sunrise despite its softness. It’s early - too early. Your fingers tangle in his mess of curls and you let your eyes close, if only to block out the offending light. You’re all too content to lie there basking in the warmth of the sun and the curiosity that follows his wandering touch. His kisses trail aimlessly wherever he pleases; along your cheeks, over your fluttering eyelashes, to the tip of your nose. By the time he finally captures your lips, you’re drifting in that soft space somewhere between sleep and consciousness.

“Good morning,” Javier murmurs. You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Too early,” You sigh in response, not bothering to open your eyes. 

“Let me make it up to you.” 

Javier moves to settle over you and you make space for him without thought, your thighs spread around his own. You blink up at him with a sleepy smile on your face. You’ve always loved how he looks fresh from sleep. Mussed and messy, his curls sticking up every which way. His touch is slow and meandering, content to simply feel you beneath his palms. He looks at you with such reverence, such intense focus - it feels like you hold the center of his universe in the palm of your hands. 

You’ve never been able to resist him. Javier hums a pleased little sound when you pull him closer for another kiss. His hands are hot and insistent, slipping up your shirt - his shirt - until there’s nowhere else for it to go but off. Your underwear is quick to follow under his eager hands, tugged down your thighs and tossed to the floor. He’s just so easy to get lost in. His kisses become more persistent, tinged with a hunger you recognize all too well. Heat blossoms beneath your skin, spreading with every beat of your heart. 

Your thighs tighten around his waist, hips arching up to grind against the bulge of his cock still trapped in his briefs. The friction of the soft cotton, the sweet little sound it pulls from your lips, only spurs him on. A low moan leaves him as he dips down to drag his teeth along the column of your throat. 

Your nails find purchase in the taut muscle of his shoulders. Javier presses you into the mattress, hips rolling down against you in long, languid strokes. It’s impossible to think straight, impossible to make a decision; part of you wants to beg him to rip through the thin piece of fabric that separates you and fuck you until you can’t breathe. But this feels so good - just two impulsive, eager bodies desperate to feel every inch of one another. You press your head back into the pillows as his lips press against your nipple, his warm mouth engulfing the sensitive bud. 

In this moment, the only thing that exists in this world is him - his tongue, his hands, the relentless grinding of his clothed cock against your cunt. It’s only this moment lost in the shimmer of an early morning usually spent stealing kisses before he slips out the door to work. A flicker of clarity breaks through the cloud of desire, some echo of responsibility drawing to the forefront of your mind. 

“Wait -” You sigh. Javier doesn’t pause, all too caught up in lavishing your breasts with attention. You tug at the curls at the back of his neck. “Javi, wait! Don’t you have work?”

Javier just shakes his head before flicking his tongue against your nipple. Fucking tease. “Called out.” 

“Why?” You ask through a breathless laugh. 

“Oh, amor,” He gives you that cocky grin you adore. “We have plans, remember?” 

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. There are no appointments today, no huge tasks that demand an entire day away from the office. You tick through the running list of to-dos stuck to the refrigerator - donate old clothes, clean out the eaves, find a contractor for the bathroom renovation, finally tackle the spring cleaning you’ve been putting off for weeks. Nothing important enough to pull him away from work for an entire day.  

“Alright, you’ve got me.” You concede. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“My wife wants a baby.” He states matter-of-factly. You blink at him with wide eyes, your lips parted in surprise. Heat flushes up your chest and settles in your cheeks at a low simmer. Your heart feels like it might beat right out of your chest. He grabs your chin and kisses you soft and short before words can find you. His voice is gentle when he continues. “And what my wife wants, she gets.” 

All you can muster is a whisper of his name, your tone somewhere between surprise and awe. You’ve known how ready he was since the moment you nervously broached the topic a few months ago. He could barely bite back the grin on his face when he cradled your face in his hands and reminded you of the promise he made on your wedding night. That you would want for nothing, that he would put the world at your fingertips without a second thought. All you had to do was ask. 

“Been tracking your cycle.” He confesses. Anticipation curls into a tight knot in your belly at the glint in his dark eyes - bright with hunger but steadfast in his resolve. “Took the whole week off just for this.”

“You’re insane.” The teasing tone falls flat in the face of your desire. His fingertips glide along your sex, humming a pleased sound at how wet you already are. 

“Not insane.” There’s no missing the pride that clings to his words. He slips one finger inside of you, quickly followed by another, and curls them upward into that spot he knows so well. You can’t help the whine that leaves you as he slowly rubs your g-spot with that stupid grin playing at his lips.  “Just a man who keeps his promises.” 

He leans back slightly, just enough to watch your cunt pulse around his fingers with every little movement. There’s no hesitation in his touch - just well-rehearsed thrusts that unravel your very being from the moment he sets his pace. Your hips buck into his hand when his thumb rubs against your clit. You sigh his name, all pitched and breathy, and you swear you can see his pupils dilate at the sound. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” He coos, a tinge of pointed self-satisfaction creeping into his voice. It would drive you insane if it were unearned, but the pleasure building low in your belly proves him right. You can’t help but rock down into his touch. “Just achin’ for it, aren’t you?”

It isn’t fair for him to expect an answer when every crook of his fingers drags you further into that abyss of mindless pleasure - but he isn’t exactly known for being fair. 

“Gotta use your words,” He tuts at you. “Tell me what you want, baby.” 

Your lips part, a plea at the tip of your tongue - and his fingers move faster, zeroing in on that sensitive spot that replaces any conscious words with a sharp cry. Your back arches on instinct as a molten-hot spike of pleasure pulses through your body. 

“Don’t tease,” You whine, unashamed of the desperation that drips from every syllable. “I need you, Javi. Please.” 

It is unrepentant need that has you pawing at the waistband of his briefs until he helps you tug them down, stretched taut around his muscled thighs. Your teeth sink into your lower lip at the sight of his cock hanging heavy, so close to where you need it. There’s no resisting the temptation; your hand wraps around his cock and you revel in the feeling. The weight, the heat that emanates from him. So thick that your fingertips can’t touch. The first stroke of your fingers draws a low moan from your husband, his resolve already crumbling under your touch. You stroke him slowly, finally meeting his heavy gaze again. 

“I want you to put a baby in me.”

His fingers slow to a crawl inside you. His eyes slip closed as he draws in a long breath, only fluttering open again once he exhales. There’s a look that crosses his face, an intensity that you’ve come to know so well. A shiver slips down your spine and settles low in your belly. He usually revels in dragging honeyed pleas from your lips, in toying with you until you really beg. But this morning, with the intention that hangs thick in the air, those words are all it takes to snap the tenuous hold on his self control. 

You’re left achingly empty as his fingers slip away. Javier makes quick work of his last scrap of clothing, his briefs disappearing into the abyss with your own clothes. His cock slides along your dripping pussy with a slow, methodical roll of his hips. He lets out a quiet fuck as he feels you clench around nothing, your body enticing him back where he belongs. 

Your breath catches in your throat when the blunt head of his cock presses inside you. The stretch always catches you off guard, but this is different, more intense. Maybe you’re too used to an orgasm or three before he finally fucks you. Maybe it’s the knowledge of the claim he’s laying to your body, to your soul. He sinks into you in one slow, devastatingly deep roll of his hips, and you swear you can feel him in your stomach. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to keep him there, to pull him impossibly deeper. 

All you can do is squirm beneath him, whimpering his name in a plea for something, anything. The sight he makes only fuels the need burning through your veins. Javier’s eyes are closed, his lips parted to let short, rushed breaths escape him. His hands squeeze at your waist where he pins you to the bed, a pointed attempt to ground himself. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” His voice is rough, rumbling through his chest like a low roll of thunder. He all but collapses into you, one hand haphazardly braced beside your head as he gives in to that obsessive need to be as close to you as possible. The change in angle presses his cock snugly against your cervix and sends that dull ache of pleasure-pain rocking through your body. Your nails bite into his shoulders where you cling to him, drawing him in until his nose brushes yours. “Feels so fuckin’… God, you’re so good for me. My pretty little wife.” 

Javier tries to be still above you. He tries to let you catch your breath and adjust to the sudden fullness. He really does. Each breath ghosts across your skin in a staccato beat, followed by the soft melody of unsteady sounds on every exhale. His hips rock forward on their own volition - he’s barely even grinding against you, but it’s enough to have you both drawing in a sharp breath. He curses under his breath as if chastising himself, but he can’t stop. The slightest movement allows him to grind against your clit, coaxing the flames of your desire into a wildfire that burns through your core. 

It doesn’t help that you can’t stop touching him; your hands trail up the planes of his back, over his ribs, along his collarbone. Touching, caressing, scoring little marks into his skin with your nails. It’s all too much. Your fingertips trace a line along his jaw before finally curling in his hair and pulling him into a kiss. Javier moans against your lips, his tongue immediately seeking out the heat of your mouth.  He pulls out slowly before burying every inch back inside you. Testing, careful. Barely restrained. Your hips roll into his with his next too-slow, too-gentle thrust, and he practically whines. He takes it for the permission that it is, and that first real thrust sends you spiraling. 

The kiss breaks with a sound so uninhibited and raw that you barely recognize it coming from your lips. Your grip wrenches tighter in his hair and that sharp pinprick pain only spurs him on. Javier presses his forehead against yours, sharing your breath as he buries his cock as deep as your body will take him. Everything about it is devastating - the pressure against your clit, the unrelenting pace, the overwhelming fullness. And all you can do is take it, caged against the bed you share. 

There isn’t anywhere in the world you would rather be. 

You press a kiss to his lips before whispering against them, “I love you.” 

He chases your lips with an achingly needy sound, high in his throat, like nothing you’ve ever heard from him before. He whispers it back like a plea. I love you. I love you, baby. More than anything. The sincerity pours from him with every word, bleeds into desperation in how he fucks you. It takes every ounce of conscious thought to keep your eyes from rolling into the back of your head. Pleasure hitches in your belly, wavering on that fine line of devastation.

“‘M close,” You barely manage to gasp the words out. 

Javier pushes himself up just enough to see the aftermath of all his hard work. And if you thought he looked like a dream before, this must be heaven. He must have finally fucked you into an early grave because - holy fuck. He gazes down at you with wide eyes, the beautiful brown of his irises consumed by his blown-out pupils. The look he gives you is hungry but reverent - as if he can’t believe you’re here, you’re his, and he can never get enough. 

“Fuck. Fuck, baby you’re so -” His rambling breaks apart with a wounded sound. “- fuckin’ perfect. Made for me.” 

You’re so consumed by the heat threatening to boil over that you don’t realize his hand has slipped between your thighs until the rough pad of his thumb swipes against your clit - and you’re gone. That coil finally snaps and your back arches so violently that his pace falters. You can feel his gaze burning into you, eager to capture every millisecond of your pleasure. Sear each detail into his brain. You can barely make out his raw groan, the low murmuring of his praise. Fuck, that’s it, baby. That’s my girl. 

His hand flies to your hip, fingertips indenting your skin so hard you know they’ll bruise. The grip tightens and forces you down, and it's only then that you realize you’re writhing beneath him, begging with barely intelligible pleas. A faltering groan rips through his chest as he stills inside you, and the warmth that spreads through your core feels like nirvana. 

Every other sense goes hazy as the heat coursing through you lowers to a simmer. Your eyes feel too heavy to focus. Your ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. But you can feel him as Javier melts into you. You can feel his panting breaths where his face is tucked into your neck, cooling the sweat that clings to your skin. You can feel the rise and fall of your chest against his. You can feel the ache in your thighs, still pressed wide around his waist. You can feel his cock slowly softening inside of you, still twitching in a valiant effort to get hard again. All you can do is feel - as if every synapse in your brain can only focus on this while your consciousness slowly reboots. 

It isn’t until you shiver that Javier finally moves. The man runs hotter than a furnace, so your air conditioning works overtime to keep the house at a pleasantly cool temperature. But the slide of cold air against your bare skin is almost too much, too stimulating after it all. He shifts off of you with a grunt, shushing your displeased whine at the loss of his heat. Two fingers tap your hip. You crack one eye open to find him kneeling next to you, pillow in hand. 

“Lift.” He murmurs. 

A teasing smile twitches at the corner of your lips. “You’re ridiculous.” 

You do it anyway. 

“Well, you’re the one who married me, so I think that says more about you than me.” He teases right back. He shoves the pillow beneath your hips, a slight frown on his face as he adjusts it to his satisfaction. So concentrated, intent to get it right down to the most minute detail. He tugs a blanket over you both and settles in next to you with a heavy arm thrown over your belly to keep you close. His nose nudges your temple and he sighs, sounding so content that you fall for him all over again.  

A yawn takes you by surprise. “‘M tired, Javi.” 

“Mmm, I bet.” He presses a kiss just below your ear. “Take a nap, baby. Gonna need all the rest you can get.” 

You don’t remember falling asleep. There’s nothing in between the hazy memory of Javier burying his face in your neck and the growl of your stomach that wakes you. Every cell in your body thrums with an exhausted kind of satisfaction despite the protest of your empty stomach. Javier is still pressed against you, hasn’t moved an inch aside from the leg he’s hooked with yours. You let yourself savor his weight, his body heat, the steady rhythm of his breathing - until the hunger pangs get too annoying and you have no choice but to extricate yourself from his long limbs. It’s a slow process in your efforts not to wake him.

Your foot has just brushed the floor when Javier’s arms lock around your waist and he drags you back into the sheets. 

“Wh- Javi!” You wiggle around in his grasp in a half-hearted attempt to free yourself. You only stop when he nips at your shoulder, his sharp canines digging into your skin. “Ah, stop it!

“I’ll get it,” He grumbles as he kisses over the mark he left. “Whatever you want, I’ll get it. I’m not letting you out of this bed today.” 

“Oh?” You tease. “And how long do you plan on holding me hostage, Mr. Peña?” 

You don’t bother trying to resist when he pulls you onto your back with practiced ease. This is a dance you’ve done too many times to count. He’s early to rise and impatient to wake you every morning without fail. Your eyes flutter open, squinting against the sunrise despite its softness. It’s early - too early. Your fingers tangle in his mess of curls and you let your eyes close, if only to block out the offending light. You’re all too content to lie there basking in the warmth of the sun and the curiosity that follows his wandering touch. His kisses trail aimlessly wherever he pleases; along your cheeks, over your fluttering eyelashes, to the tip of your nose. By the time he finally captures your lips, you’re drifting in that soft space somewhere between sleep and consciousness.

“Good morning,” Javier murmurs. You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Too early,” You sigh in response, not bothering to open your eyes. 

“Let me make it up to you.” 

Javier moves to settle over you and you make space for him without thought, your thighs spread around his own. You blink up at him with a sleepy smile on your face. You’ve always loved how he looks fresh from sleep. Mussed and messy, his curls sticking up every which way. His touch is slow and meandering, content to simply feel you beneath his palms. He looks at you with such reverence, such intense focus - it feels like you hold the center of his universe in the palm of your hands. 

You’ve never been able to resist him. Javier hums a pleased little sound when you pull him closer for another kiss. His hands are hot and insistent, slipping up your shirt - his shirt - until there’s nowhere else for it to go but off. Your underwear is quick to follow under his eager hands, tugged down your thighs and tossed to the floor. He’s just so easy to get lost in. His kisses become more persistent, tinged with a hunger you recognize all too well. Heat blossoms beneath your skin, spreading with every beat of your heart. 

Your thighs tighten around his waist, hips arching up to grind against the bulge of his cock still trapped in his briefs. The friction of the soft cotton, the sweet little sound it pulls from your lips, only spurs him on. A low moan leaves him as he dips down to drag his teeth along the column of your throat. 

Your nails find purchase in the taut muscle of his shoulders. Javier presses you into the mattress, hips rolling down against you in long, languid strokes. It’s impossible to think straight, impossible to make a decision; part of you wants to beg him to rip through the thin piece of fabric that separates you and fuck you until you can’t breathe. But this feels so good - just two impulsive, eager bodies desperate to feel every inch of one another. You press your head back into the pillows as his lips press against your nipple, his warm mouth engulfing the sensitive bud. 

In this moment, the only thing that exists in this world is him - his tongue, his hands, the relentless grinding of his clothed cock against your cunt. It’s only this moment lost in the shimmer of an early morning usually spent stealing kisses before he slips out the door to work. A flicker of clarity breaks through the cloud of desire, some echo of responsibility drawing to the forefront of your mind. 

“Wait -” You sigh. Javier doesn’t pause, all too caught up in lavishing your breasts with attention. You tug at the curls at the back of his neck. “Javi, wait! Don’t you have work?”

Javier just shakes his head before flicking his tongue against your nipple. Fucking tease. “Called out.” 

“Why?” You ask through a breathless laugh. 

“Oh, amor,” He gives you that cocky grin you adore. “We have plans, remember?” 

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. There are no appointments today, no huge tasks that demand an entire day away from the office. You tick through the running list of to-dos stuck to the refrigerator - donate old clothes, clean out the eaves, find a contractor for the bathroom renovation, finally tackle the spring cleaning you’ve been putting off for weeks. Nothing important enough to pull him away from work for an entire day.  

“Alright, you’ve got me.” You concede. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“My wife wants a baby.” He states matter-of-factly. You blink at him with wide eyes, your lips parted in surprise. Heat flushes up your chest and settles in your cheeks at a low simmer. Your heart feels like it might beat right out of your chest. He grabs your chin and kisses you soft and short before words can find you. His voice is gentle when he continues. “And what my wife wants, she gets.” 

All you can muster is a whisper of his name, your tone somewhere between surprise and awe. You’ve known how ready he was since the moment you nervously broached the topic a few months ago. He could barely bite back the grin on his face when he cradled your face in his hands and reminded you of the promise he made on your wedding night. That you would want for nothing, that he would put the world at your fingertips without a second thought. All you had to do was ask. 

“Been tracking your cycle.” He confesses. Anticipation curls into a tight knot in your belly at the glint in his dark eyes - bright with hunger but steadfast in his resolve. “Took the whole week off just for this.”

“You’re insane.” The teasing tone falls flat in the face of your desire. His fingertips glide along your sex, humming a pleased sound at how wet you already are. 

“Not insane.” There’s no missing the pride that clings to his words. He slips one finger inside of you, quickly followed by another, and curls them upward into that spot he knows so well. You can’t help the whine that leaves you as he slowly rubs your g-spot with that stupid grin playing at his lips.  “Just a man who keeps his promises.” 

He leans back slightly, just enough to watch your cunt pulse around his fingers with every little movement. There’s no hesitation in his touch - just well-rehearsed thrusts that unravel your very being from the moment he sets his pace. Your hips buck into his hand when his thumb rubs against your clit. You sigh his name, all pitched and breathy, and you swear you can see his pupils dilate at the sound. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” He coos, a tinge of pointed self-satisfaction creeping into his voice. It would drive you insane if it were unearned, but the pleasure building low in your belly proves him right. You can’t help but rock down into his touch. “Just achin’ for it, aren’t you?”

It isn’t fair for him to expect an answer when every crook of his fingers drags you further into that abyss of mindless pleasure - but he isn’t exactly known for being fair. 

“Gotta use your words,” He tuts at you. “Tell me what you want, baby.” 

Your lips part, a plea at the tip of your tongue - and his fingers move faster, zeroing in on that sensitive spot that replaces any conscious words with a sharp cry. Your back arches on instinct as a molten-hot spike of pleasure pulses through your body. 

“Don’t tease,” You whine, unashamed of the desperation that drips from every syllable. “I need you, Javi. Please.” 

It is unrepentant need that has you pawing at the waistband of his briefs until he helps you tug them down, stretched taut around his muscled thighs. Your teeth sink into your lower lip at the sight of his cock hanging heavy, so close to where you need it. There’s no resisting the temptation; your hand wraps around his cock and you revel in the feeling. The weight, the heat that emanates from him. So thick that your fingertips can’t touch. The first stroke of your fingers draws a low moan from your husband, his resolve already crumbling under your touch. You stroke him slowly, finally meeting his heavy gaze again. 

“I want you to put a baby in me.”

His fingers slow to a crawl inside you. His eyes slip closed as he draws in a long breath, only fluttering open again once he exhales. There’s a look that crosses his face, an intensity that you’ve come to know so well. A shiver slips down your spine and settles low in your belly. He usually revels in dragging honeyed pleas from your lips, in toying with you until you really beg. But this morning, with the intention that hangs thick in the air, those words are all it takes to snap the tenuous hold on his self control. 

You’re left achingly empty as his fingers slip away. Javier makes quick work of his last scrap of clothing, his briefs disappearing into the abyss with your own clothes. His cock slides along your dripping pussy with a slow, methodical roll of his hips. He lets out a quiet fuck as he feels you clench around nothing, your body enticing him back where he belongs. 

Your breath catches in your throat when the blunt head of his cock presses inside you. The stretch always catches you off guard, but this is different, more intense. Maybe you’re too used to an orgasm or three before he finally fucks you. Maybe it’s the knowledge of the claim he’s laying to your body, to your soul. He sinks into you in one slow, devastatingly deep roll of his hips, and you swear you can feel him in your stomach. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to keep him there, to pull him impossibly deeper. 

All you can do is squirm beneath him, whimpering his name in a plea for something, anything. The sight he makes only fuels the need burning through your veins. Javier’s eyes are closed, his lips parted to let short, rushed breaths escape him. His hands squeeze at your waist where he pins you to the bed, a pointed attempt to ground himself. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” His voice is rough, rumbling through his chest like a low roll of thunder. He all but collapses into you, one hand haphazardly braced beside your head as he gives in to that obsessive need to be as close to you as possible. The change in angle presses his cock snugly against your cervix and sends that dull ache of pleasure-pain rocking through your body. Your nails bite into his shoulders where you cling to him, drawing him in until his nose brushes yours. “Feels so fuckin’… God, you’re so good for me. My pretty little wife.” 

Javier tries to be still above you. He tries to let you catch your breath and adjust to the sudden fullness. He really does. Each breath ghosts across your skin in a staccato beat, followed by the soft melody of unsteady sounds on every exhale. His hips rock forward on their own volition - he’s barely even grinding against you, but it’s enough to have you both drawing in a sharp breath. He curses under his breath as if chastising himself, but he can’t stop. The slightest movement allows him to grind against your clit, coaxing the flames of your desire into a wildfire that burns through your core. 

It doesn’t help that you can’t stop touching him; your hands trail up the planes of his back, over his ribs, along his collarbone. Touching, caressing, scoring little marks into his skin with your nails. It’s all too much. Your fingertips trace a line along his jaw before finally curling in his hair and pulling him into a kiss. Javier moans against your lips, his tongue immediately seeking out the heat of your mouth.  He pulls out slowly before burying every inch back inside you. Testing, careful. Barely restrained. Your hips roll into his with his next too-slow, too-gentle thrust, and he practically whines. He takes it for the permission that it is, and that first real thrust sends you spiraling. 

The kiss breaks with a sound so uninhibited and raw that you barely recognize it coming from your lips. Your grip wrenches tighter in his hair and that sharp pinprick pain only spurs him on. Javier presses his forehead against yours, sharing your breath as he buries his cock as deep as your body will take him. Everything about it is devastating - the pressure against your clit, the unrelenting pace, the overwhelming fullness. And all you can do is take it, caged against the bed you share. 

There isn’t anywhere in the world you would rather be. 

You press a kiss to his lips before whispering against them, “I love you.” 

He chases your lips with an achingly needy sound, high in his throat, like nothing you’ve ever heard from him before. He whispers it back like a plea. I love you. I love you, baby. More than anything. The sincerity pours from him with every word, bleeds into desperation in how he fucks you. It takes every ounce of conscious thought to keep your eyes from rolling into the back of your head. Pleasure hitches in your belly, wavering on that fine line of devastation.

“‘M close,” You barely manage to gasp the words out. 

Javier pushes himself up just enough to see the aftermath of all his hard work. And if you thought he looked like a dream before, this must be heaven. He must have finally fucked you into an early grave because - holy fuck. He gazes down at you with wide eyes, the beautiful brown of his irises consumed by his blown-out pupils. The look he gives you is hungry but reverent - as if he can’t believe you’re here, you’re his, and he can never get enough. 

“Fuck. Fuck, baby you’re so -” His rambling breaks apart with a wounded sound. “- fuckin’ perfect. Made for me.” 

You’re so consumed by the heat threatening to boil over that you don’t realize his hand has slipped between your thighs until the rough pad of his thumb swipes against your clit - and you’re gone. That coil finally snaps and your back arches so violently that his pace falters. You can feel his gaze burning into you, eager to capture every millisecond of your pleasure. Sear each detail into his brain. You can barely make out his raw groan, the low murmuring of his praise. Fuck, that’s it, baby. That’s my girl. 

His hand flies to your hip, fingertips indenting your skin so hard you know they’ll bruise. The grip tightens and forces you down, and it's only then that you realize you’re writhing beneath him, begging with barely intelligible pleas. A faltering groan rips through his chest as he stills inside you, and the warmth that spreads through your core feels like nirvana. 

Every other sense goes hazy as the heat coursing through you lowers to a simmer. Your eyes feel too heavy to focus. Your ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. But you can feel him as Javier melts into you. You can feel his panting breaths where his face is tucked into your neck, cooling the sweat that clings to your skin. You can feel the rise and fall of your chest against his. You can feel the ache in your thighs, still pressed wide around his waist. You can feel his cock slowly softening inside of you, still twitching in a valiant effort to get hard again. All you can do is feel - as if every synapse in your brain can only focus on this while your consciousness slowly reboots. 

It isn’t until you shiver that Javier finally moves. The man runs hotter than a furnace, so your air conditioning works overtime to keep the house at a pleasantly cool temperature. But the slide of cold air against your bare skin is almost too much, too stimulating after it all. He shifts off of you with a grunt, shushing your displeased whine at the loss of his heat. Two fingers tap your hip. You crack one eye open to find him kneeling next to you, pillow in hand. 

“Lift.” He murmurs. 

A teasing smile twitches at the corner of your lips. “You’re ridiculous.” 

You do it anyway. 

“Well, you’re the one who married me, so I think that says more about you than me.” He teases right back. He shoves the pillow beneath your hips, a slight frown on his face as he adjusts it to his satisfaction. So concentrated, intent to get it right down to the most minute detail. He tugs a blanket over you both and settles in next to you with a heavy arm thrown over your belly to keep you close. His nose nudges your temple and he sighs, sounding so content that you fall for him all over again.  

A yawn takes you by surprise. “‘M tired, Javi.” 

“Mmm, I bet.” He presses a kiss just below your ear. “Take a nap, baby. Gonna need all the rest you can get.” 

You don’t remember falling asleep. There’s nothing in between the hazy memory of Javier burying his face in your neck and the growl of your stomach that wakes you. Every cell in your body thrums with an exhausted kind of satisfaction despite the protest of your empty stomach. Javier is still pressed against you, hasn’t moved an inch aside from the leg he’s hooked with yours. You let yourself savor his weight, his body heat, the steady rhythm of his breathing - until the hunger pangs get too annoying and you have no choice but to extricate yourself from his long limbs. It’s a slow process in your efforts not to wake him.

Your foot has just brushed the floor when Javier’s arms lock around your waist and he drags you back into the sheets. 

“Wh- Javi!” You wiggle around in his grasp in a half-hearted attempt to free yourself. You only stop when he nips at your shoulder, his sharp canines digging into your skin. “Ah, stop it!

“I’ll get it,” He grumbles as he kisses over the mark he left. “Whatever you want, I’ll get it. I’m not letting you out of this bed today.” 

“Oh?” You tease. “And how long do you plan on holding me hostage, Mr. Peña?” 

You don’t bother trying to resist when he pulls you onto your back with practiced ease. This is a dance you’ve done too many times to count. He’s early to rise and impatient to wake you every morning without fail. Your eyes flutter open, squinting against the sunrise despite its softness. It’s early - too early. Your fingers tangle in his mess of curls and you let your eyes close, if only to block out the offending light. You’re all too content to lie there basking in the warmth of the sun and the curiosity that follows his wandering touch. His kisses trail aimlessly wherever he pleases; along your cheeks, over your fluttering eyelashes, to the tip of your nose. By the time he finally captures your lips, you’re drifting in that soft space somewhere between sleep and consciousness.

“Good morning,” Javier murmurs. You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Too early,” You sigh in response, not bothering to open your eyes. 

“Let me make it up to you.” 

Javier moves to settle over you and you make space for him without thought, your thighs spread around his own. You blink up at him with a sleepy smile on your face. You’ve always loved how he looks fresh from sleep. Mussed and messy, his curls sticking up every which way. His touch is slow and meandering, content to simply feel you beneath his palms. He looks at you with such reverence, such intense focus - it feels like you hold the center of his universe in the palm of your hands. 

You’ve never been able to resist him. Javier hums a pleased little sound when you pull him closer for another kiss. His hands are hot and insistent, slipping up your shirt - his shirt - until there’s nowhere else for it to go but off. Your underwear is quick to follow under his eager hands, tugged down your thighs and tossed to the floor. He’s just so easy to get lost in. His kisses become more persistent, tinged with a hunger you recognize all too well. Heat blossoms beneath your skin, spreading with every beat of your heart. 

Your thighs tighten around his waist, hips arching up to grind against the bulge of his cock still trapped in his briefs. The friction of the soft cotton, the sweet little sound it pulls from your lips, only spurs him on. A low moan leaves him as he dips down to drag his teeth along the column of your throat. 

Your nails find purchase in the taut muscle of his shoulders. Javier presses you into the mattress, hips rolling down against you in long, languid strokes. It’s impossible to think straight, impossible to make a decision; part of you wants to beg him to rip through the thin piece of fabric that separates you and fuck you until you can’t breathe. But this feels so good - just two impulsive, eager bodies desperate to feel every inch of one another. You press your head back into the pillows as his lips press against your nipple, his warm mouth engulfing the sensitive bud. 

In this moment, the only thing that exists in this world is him - his tongue, his hands, the relentless grinding of his clothed cock against your cunt. It’s only this moment lost in the shimmer of an early morning usually spent stealing kisses before he slips out the door to work. A flicker of clarity breaks through the cloud of desire, some echo of responsibility drawing to the forefront of your mind. 

“Wait -” You sigh. Javier doesn’t pause, all too caught up in lavishing your breasts with attention. You tug at the curls at the back of his neck. “Javi, wait! Don’t you have work?”

Javier just shakes his head before flicking his tongue against your nipple. Fucking tease. “Called out.” 

“Why?” You ask through a breathless laugh. 

“Oh, amor,” He gives you that cocky grin you adore. “We have plans, remember?” 

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. There are no appointments today, no huge tasks that demand an entire day away from the office. You tick through the running list of to-dos stuck to the refrigerator - donate old clothes, clean out the eaves, find a contractor for the bathroom renovation, finally tackle the spring cleaning you’ve been putting off for weeks. Nothing important enough to pull him away from work for an entire day.  

“Alright, you’ve got me.” You concede. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“My wife wants a baby.” He states matter-of-factly. You blink at him with wide eyes, your lips parted in surprise. Heat flushes up your chest and settles in your cheeks at a low simmer. Your heart feels like it might beat right out of your chest. He grabs your chin and kisses you soft and short before words can find you. His voice is gentle when he continues. “And what my wife wants, she gets.” 

All you can muster is a whisper of his name, your tone somewhere between surprise and awe. You’ve known how ready he was since the moment you nervously broached the topic a few months ago. He could barely bite back the grin on his face when he cradled your face in his hands and reminded you of the promise he made on your wedding night. That you would want for nothing, that he would put the world at your fingertips without a second thought. All you had to do was ask. 

“Been tracking your cycle.” He confesses. Anticipation curls into a tight knot in your belly at the glint in his dark eyes - bright with hunger but steadfast in his resolve. “Took the whole week off just for this.”

“You’re insane.” The teasing tone falls flat in the face of your desire. His fingertips glide along your sex, humming a pleased sound at how wet you already are. 

“Not insane.” There’s no missing the pride that clings to his words. He slips one finger inside of you, quickly followed by another, and curls them upward into that spot he knows so well. You can’t help the whine that leaves you as he slowly rubs your g-spot with that stupid grin playing at his lips.  “Just a man who keeps his promises.” 

He leans back slightly, just enough to watch your cunt pulse around his fingers with every little movement. There’s no hesitation in his touch - just well-rehearsed thrusts that unravel your very being from the moment he sets his pace. Your hips buck into his hand when his thumb rubs against your clit. You sigh his name, all pitched and breathy, and you swear you can see his pupils dilate at the sound. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” He coos, a tinge of pointed self-satisfaction creeping into his voice. It would drive you insane if it were unearned, but the pleasure building low in your belly proves him right. You can’t help but rock down into his touch. “Just achin’ for it, aren’t you?”

It isn’t fair for him to expect an answer when every crook of his fingers drags you further into that abyss of mindless pleasure - but he isn’t exactly known for being fair. 

“Gotta use your words,” He tuts at you. “Tell me what you want, baby.” 

Your lips part, a plea at the tip of your tongue - and his fingers move faster, zeroing in on that sensitive spot that replaces any conscious words with a sharp cry. Your back arches on instinct as a molten-hot spike of pleasure pulses through your body. 

“Don’t tease,” You whine, unashamed of the desperation that drips from every syllable. “I need you, Javi. Please.” 

It is unrepentant need that has you pawing at the waistband of his briefs until he helps you tug them down, stretched taut around his muscled thighs. Your teeth sink into your lower lip at the sight of his cock hanging heavy, so close to where you need it. There’s no resisting the temptation; your hand wraps around his cock and you revel in the feeling. The weight, the heat that emanates from him. So thick that your fingertips can’t touch. The first stroke of your fingers draws a low moan from your husband, his resolve already crumbling under your touch. You stroke him slowly, finally meeting his heavy gaze again. 

“I want you to put a baby in me.”

His fingers slow to a crawl inside you. His eyes slip closed as he draws in a long breath, only fluttering open again once he exhales. There’s a look that crosses his face, an intensity that you’ve come to know so well. A shiver slips down your spine and settles low in your belly. He usually revels in dragging honeyed pleas from your lips, in toying with you until you really beg. But this morning, with the intention that hangs thick in the air, those words are all it takes to snap the tenuous hold on his self control. 

You’re left achingly empty as his fingers slip away. Javier makes quick work of his last scrap of clothing, his briefs disappearing into the abyss with your own clothes. His cock slides along your dripping pussy with a slow, methodical roll of his hips. He lets out a quiet fuck as he feels you clench around nothing, your body enticing him back where he belongs. 

Your breath catches in your throat when the blunt head of his cock presses inside you. The stretch always catches you off guard, but this is different, more intense. Maybe you’re too used to an orgasm or three before he finally fucks you. Maybe it’s the knowledge of the claim he’s laying to your body, to your soul. He sinks into you in one slow, devastatingly deep roll of his hips, and you swear you can feel him in your stomach. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to keep him there, to pull him impossibly deeper. 

All you can do is squirm beneath him, whimpering his name in a plea for something, anything. The sight he makes only fuels the need burning through your veins. Javier’s eyes are closed, his lips parted to let short, rushed breaths escape him. His hands squeeze at your waist where he pins you to the bed, a pointed attempt to ground himself. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” His voice is rough, rumbling through his chest like a low roll of thunder. He all but collapses into you, one hand haphazardly braced beside your head as he gives in to that obsessive need to be as close to you as possible. The change in angle presses his cock snugly against your cervix and sends that dull ache of pleasure-pain rocking through your body. Your nails bite into his shoulders where you cling to him, drawing him in until his nose brushes yours. “Feels so fuckin’… God, you’re so good for me. My pretty little wife.” 

Javier tries to be still above you. He tries to let you catch your breath and adjust to the sudden fullness. He really does. Each breath ghosts across your skin in a staccato beat, followed by the soft melody of unsteady sounds on every exhale. His hips rock forward on their own volition - he’s barely even grinding against you, but it’s enough to have you both drawing in a sharp breath. He curses under his breath as if chastising himself, but he can’t stop. The slightest movement allows him to grind against your clit, coaxing the flames of your desire into a wildfire that burns through your core. 

It doesn’t help that you can’t stop touching him; your hands trail up the planes of his back, over his ribs, along his collarbone. Touching, caressing, scoring little marks into his skin with your nails. It’s all too much. Your fingertips trace a line along his jaw before finally curling in his hair and pulling him into a kiss. Javier moans against your lips, his tongue immediately seeking out the heat of your mouth.  He pulls out slowly before burying every inch back inside you. Testing, careful. Barely restrained. Your hips roll into his with his next too-slow, too-gentle thrust, and he practically whines. He takes it for the permission that it is, and that first real thrust sends you spiraling. 

The kiss breaks with a sound so uninhibited and raw that you barely recognize it coming from your lips. Your grip wrenches tighter in his hair and that sharp pinprick pain only spurs him on. Javier presses his forehead against yours, sharing your breath as he buries his cock as deep as your body will take him. Everything about it is devastating - the pressure against your clit, the unrelenting pace, the overwhelming fullness. And all you can do is take it, caged against the bed you share. 

There isn’t anywhere in the world you would rather be. 

You press a kiss to his lips before whispering against them, “I love you.” 

He chases your lips with an achingly needy sound, high in his throat, like nothing you’ve ever heard from him before. He whispers it back like a plea. I love you. I love you, baby. More than anything. The sincerity pours from him with every word, bleeds into desperation in how he fucks you. It takes every ounce of conscious thought to keep your eyes from rolling into the back of your head. Pleasure hitches in your belly, wavering on that fine line of devastation.

“‘M close,” You barely manage to gasp the words out. 

Javier pushes himself up just enough to see the aftermath of all his hard work. And if you thought he looked like a dream before, this must be heaven. He must have finally fucked you into an early grave because - holy fuck. He gazes down at you with wide eyes, the beautiful brown of his irises consumed by his blown-out pupils. The look he gives you is hungry but reverent - as if he can’t believe you’re here, you’re his, and he can never get enough. 

“Fuck. Fuck, baby you’re so -” His rambling breaks apart with a wounded sound. “- fuckin’ perfect. Made for me.” 

You’re so consumed by the heat threatening to boil over that you don’t realize his hand has slipped between your thighs until the rough pad of his thumb swipes against your clit - and you’re gone. That coil finally snaps and your back arches so violently that his pace falters. You can feel his gaze burning into you, eager to capture every millisecond of your pleasure. Sear each detail into his brain. You can barely make out his raw groan, the low murmuring of his praise. Fuck, that’s it, baby. That’s my girl. 

His hand flies to your hip, fingertips indenting your skin so hard you know they’ll bruise. The grip tightens and forces you down, and it's only then that you realize you’re writhing beneath him, begging with barely intelligible pleas. A faltering groan rips through his chest as he stills inside you, and the warmth that spreads through your core feels like nirvana. 

Every other sense goes hazy as the heat coursing through you lowers to a simmer. Your eyes feel too heavy to focus. Your ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. But you can feel him as Javier melts into you. You can feel his panting breaths where his face is tucked into your neck, cooling the sweat that clings to your skin. You can feel the rise and fall of your chest against his. You can feel the ache in your thighs, still pressed wide around his waist. You can feel his cock slowly softening inside of you, still twitching in a valiant effort to get hard again. All you can do is feel - as if every synapse in your brain can only focus on this while your consciousness slowly reboots. 

It isn’t until you shiver that Javier finally moves. The man runs hotter than a furnace, so your air conditioning works overtime to keep the house at a pleasantly cool temperature. But the slide of cold air against your bare skin is almost too much, too stimulating after it all. He shifts off of you with a grunt, shushing your displeased whine at the loss of his heat. Two fingers tap your hip. You crack one eye open to find him kneeling next to you, pillow in hand. 

“Lift.” He murmurs. 

A teasing smile twitches at the corner of your lips. “You’re ridiculous.” 

You do it anyway. 

“Well, you’re the one who married me, so I think that says more about you than me.” He teases right back. He shoves the pillow beneath your hips, a slight frown on his face as he adjusts it to his satisfaction. So concentrated, intent to get it right down to the most minute detail. He tugs a blanket over you both and settles in next to you with a heavy arm thrown over your belly to keep you close. His nose nudges your temple and he sighs, sounding so content that you fall for him all over again.  

A yawn takes you by surprise. “‘M tired, Javi.” 

“Mmm, I bet.” He presses a kiss just below your ear. “Take a nap, baby. Gonna need all the rest you can get.” 

You don’t remember falling asleep. There’s nothing in between the hazy memory of Javier burying his face in your neck and the growl of your stomach that wakes you. Every cell in your body thrums with an exhausted kind of satisfaction despite the protest of your empty stomach. Javier is still pressed against you, hasn’t moved an inch aside from the leg he’s hooked with yours. You let yourself savor his weight, his body heat, the steady rhythm of his breathing - until the hunger pangs get too annoying and you have no choice but to extricate yourself from his long limbs. It’s a slow process in your efforts not to wake him.

Your foot has just brushed the floor when Javier’s arms lock around your waist and he drags you back into the sheets. 

“Wh- Javi!” You wiggle around in his grasp in a half-hearted attempt to free yourself. You only stop when he nips at your shoulder, his sharp canines digging into your skin. “Ah, stop it!

“I’ll get it,” He grumbles as he kisses over the mark he left. “Whatever you want, I’ll get it. I’m not letting you out of this bed today.” 

“Oh?” You tease. “And how long do you plan on holding me hostage, Mr. Peña?” 

You don’t bother trying to resist when he pulls you onto your back with practiced ease. This is a dance you’ve done too many times to count. He’s early to rise and impatient to wake you every morning without fail. Your eyes flutter open, squinting against the sunrise despite its softness. It’s early - too early. Your fingers tangle in his mess of curls and you let your eyes close, if only to block out the offending light. You’re all too content to lie there basking in the warmth of the sun and the curiosity that follows his wandering touch. His kisses trail aimlessly wherever he pleases; along your cheeks, over your fluttering eyelashes, to the tip of your nose. By the time he finally captures your lips, you’re drifting in that soft space somewhere between sleep and consciousness.

“Good morning,” Javier murmurs. You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Too early,” You sigh in response, not bothering to open your eyes. 

“Let me make it up to you.” 

Javier moves to settle over you and you make space for him without thought, your thighs spread around his own. You blink up at him with a sleepy smile on your face. You’ve always loved how he looks fresh from sleep. Mussed and messy, his curls sticking up every which way. His touch is slow and meandering, content to simply feel you beneath his palms. He looks at you with such reverence, such intense focus - it feels like you hold the center of his universe in the palm of your hands. 

You’ve never been able to resist him. Javier hums a pleased little sound when you pull him closer for another kiss. His hands are hot and insistent, slipping up your shirt - his shirt - until there’s nowhere else for it to go but off. Your underwear is quick to follow under his eager hands, tugged down your thighs and tossed to the floor. He’s just so easy to get lost in. His kisses become more persistent, tinged with a hunger you recognize all too well. Heat blossoms beneath your skin, spreading with every beat of your heart. 

Your thighs tighten around his waist, hips arching up to grind against the bulge of his cock still trapped in his briefs. The friction of the soft cotton, the sweet little sound it pulls from your lips, only spurs him on. A low moan leaves him as he dips down to drag his teeth along the column of your throat. 

Your nails find purchase in the taut muscle of his shoulders. Javier presses you into the mattress, hips rolling down against you in long, languid strokes. It’s impossible to think straight, impossible to make a decision; part of you wants to beg him to rip through the thin piece of fabric that separates you and fuck you until you can’t breathe. But this feels so good - just two impulsive, eager bodies desperate to feel every inch of one another. You press your head back into the pillows as his lips press against your nipple, his warm mouth engulfing the sensitive bud. 

In this moment, the only thing that exists in this world is him - his tongue, his hands, the relentless grinding of his clothed cock against your cunt. It’s only this moment lost in the shimmer of an early morning usually spent stealing kisses before he slips out the door to work. A flicker of clarity breaks through the cloud of desire, some echo of responsibility drawing to the forefront of your mind. 

“Wait -” You sigh. Javier doesn’t pause, all too caught up in lavishing your breasts with attention. You tug at the curls at the back of his neck. “Javi, wait! Don’t you have work?”

Javier just shakes his head before flicking his tongue against your nipple. Fucking tease. “Called out.” 

“Why?” You ask through a breathless laugh. 

“Oh, amor,” He gives you that cocky grin you adore. “We have plans, remember?” 

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. There are no appointments today, no huge tasks that demand an entire day away from the office. You tick through the running list of to-dos stuck to the refrigerator - donate old clothes, clean out the eaves, find a contractor for the bathroom renovation, finally tackle the spring cleaning you’ve been putting off for weeks. Nothing important enough to pull him away from work for an entire day.  

“Alright, you’ve got me.” You concede. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“My wife wants a baby.” He states matter-of-factly. You blink at him with wide eyes, your lips parted in surprise. Heat flushes up your chest and settles in your cheeks at a low simmer. Your heart feels like it might beat right out of your chest. He grabs your chin and kisses you soft and short before words can find you. His voice is gentle when he continues. “And what my wife wants, she gets.” 

All you can muster is a whisper of his name, your tone somewhere between surprise and awe. You’ve known how ready he was since the moment you nervously broached the topic a few months ago. He could barely bite back the grin on his face when he cradled your face in his hands and reminded you of the promise he made on your wedding night. That you would want for nothing, that he would put the world at your fingertips without a second thought. All you had to do was ask. 

“Been tracking your cycle.” He confesses. Anticipation curls into a tight knot in your belly at the glint in his dark eyes - bright with hunger but steadfast in his resolve. “Took the whole week off just for this.”

“You’re insane.” The teasing tone falls flat in the face of your desire. His fingertips glide along your sex, humming a pleased sound at how wet you already are. 

“Not insane.” There’s no missing the pride that clings to his words. He slips one finger inside of you, quickly followed by another, and curls them upward into that spot he knows so well. You can’t help the whine that leaves you as he slowly rubs your g-spot with that stupid grin playing at his lips.  “Just a man who keeps his promises.” 

He leans back slightly, just enough to watch your cunt pulse around his fingers with every little movement. There’s no hesitation in his touch - just well-rehearsed thrusts that unravel your very being from the moment he sets his pace. Your hips buck into his hand when his thumb rubs against your clit. You sigh his name, all pitched and breathy, and you swear you can see his pupils dilate at the sound. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” He coos, a tinge of pointed self-satisfaction creeping into his voice. It would drive you insane if it were unearned, but the pleasure building low in your belly proves him right. You can’t help but rock down into his touch. “Just achin’ for it, aren’t you?”

It isn’t fair for him to expect an answer when every crook of his fingers drags you further into that abyss of mindless pleasure - but he isn’t exactly known for being fair. 

“Gotta use your words,” He tuts at you. “Tell me what you want, baby.” 

Your lips part, a plea at the tip of your tongue - and his fingers move faster, zeroing in on that sensitive spot that replaces any conscious words with a sharp cry. Your back arches on instinct as a molten-hot spike of pleasure pulses through your body. 

“Don’t tease,” You whine, unashamed of the desperation that drips from every syllable. “I need you, Javi. Please.” 

It is unrepentant need that has you pawing at the waistband of his briefs until he helps you tug them down, stretched taut around his muscled thighs. Your teeth sink into your lower lip at the sight of his cock hanging heavy, so close to where you need it. There’s no resisting the temptation; your hand wraps around his cock and you revel in the feeling. The weight, the heat that emanates from him. So thick that your fingertips can’t touch. The first stroke of your fingers draws a low moan from your husband, his resolve already crumbling under your touch. You stroke him slowly, finally meeting his heavy gaze again. 

“I want you to put a baby in me.”

His fingers slow to a crawl inside you. His eyes slip closed as he draws in a long breath, only fluttering open again once he exhales. There’s a look that crosses his face, an intensity that you’ve come to know so well. A shiver slips down your spine and settles low in your belly. He usually revels in dragging honeyed pleas from your lips, in toying with you until you really beg. But this morning, with the intention that hangs thick in the air, those words are all it takes to snap the tenuous hold on his self control. 

You’re left achingly empty as his fingers slip away. Javier makes quick work of his last scrap of clothing, his briefs disappearing into the abyss with your own clothes. His cock slides along your dripping pussy with a slow, methodical roll of his hips. He lets out a quiet fuck as he feels you clench around nothing, your body enticing him back where he belongs. 

Your breath catches in your throat when the blunt head of his cock presses inside you. The stretch always catches you off guard, but this is different, more intense. Maybe you’re too used to an orgasm or three before he finally fucks you. Maybe it’s the knowledge of the claim he’s laying to your body, to your soul. He sinks into you in one slow, devastatingly deep roll of his hips, and you swear you can feel him in your stomach. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to keep him there, to pull him impossibly deeper. 

All you can do is squirm beneath him, whimpering his name in a plea for something, anything. The sight he makes only fuels the need burning through your veins. Javier’s eyes are closed, his lips parted to let short, rushed breaths escape him. His hands squeeze at your waist where he pins you to the bed, a pointed attempt to ground himself. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” His voice is rough, rumbling through his chest like a low roll of thunder. He all but collapses into you, one hand haphazardly braced beside your head as he gives in to that obsessive need to be as close to you as possible. The change in angle presses his cock snugly against your cervix and sends that dull ache of pleasure-pain rocking through your body. Your nails bite into his shoulders where you cling to him, drawing him in until his nose brushes yours. “Feels so fuckin’… God, you’re so good for me. My pretty little wife.” 

Javier tries to be still above you. He tries to let you catch your breath and adjust to the sudden fullness. He really does. Each breath ghosts across your skin in a staccato beat, followed by the soft melody of unsteady sounds on every exhale. His hips rock forward on their own volition - he’s barely even grinding against you, but it’s enough to have you both drawing in a sharp breath. He curses under his breath as if chastising himself, but he can’t stop. The slightest movement allows him to grind against your clit, coaxing the flames of your desire into a wildfire that burns through your core. 

It doesn’t help that you can’t stop touching him; your hands trail up the planes of his back, over his ribs, along his collarbone. Touching, caressing, scoring little marks into his skin with your nails. It’s all too much. Your fingertips trace a line along his jaw before finally curling in his hair and pulling him into a kiss. Javier moans against your lips, his tongue immediately seeking out the heat of your mouth.  He pulls out slowly before burying every inch back inside you. Testing, careful. Barely restrained. Your hips roll into his with his next too-slow, too-gentle thrust, and he practically whines. He takes it for the permission that it is, and that first real thrust sends you spiraling. 

The kiss breaks with a sound so uninhibited and raw that you barely recognize it coming from your lips. Your grip wrenches tighter in his hair and that sharp pinprick pain only spurs him on. Javier presses his forehead against yours, sharing your breath as he buries his cock as deep as your body will take him. Everything about it is devastating - the pressure against your clit, the unrelenting pace, the overwhelming fullness. And all you can do is take it, caged against the bed you share. 

There isn’t anywhere in the world you would rather be. 

You press a kiss to his lips before whispering against them, “I love you.” 

He chases your lips with an achingly needy sound, high in his throat, like nothing you’ve ever heard from him before. He whispers it back like a plea. I love you. I love you, baby. More than anything. The sincerity pours from him with every word, bleeds into desperation in how he fucks you. It takes every ounce of conscious thought to keep your eyes from rolling into the back of your head. Pleasure hitches in your belly, wavering on that fine line of devastation.

“‘M close,” You barely manage to gasp the words out. 

Javier pushes himself up just enough to see the aftermath of all his hard work. And if you thought he looked like a dream before, this must be heaven. He must have finally fucked you into an early grave because - holy fuck. He gazes down at you with wide eyes, the beautiful brown of his irises consumed by his blown-out pupils. The look he gives you is hungry but reverent - as if he can’t believe you’re here, you’re his, and he can never get enough. 

“Fuck. Fuck, baby you’re so -” His rambling breaks apart with a wounded sound. “- fuckin’ perfect. Made for me.” 

You’re so consumed by the heat threatening to boil over that you don’t realize his hand has slipped between your thighs until the rough pad of his thumb swipes against your clit - and you’re gone. That coil finally snaps and your back arches so violently that his pace falters. You can feel his gaze burning into you, eager to capture every millisecond of your pleasure. Sear each detail into his brain. You can barely make out his raw groan, the low murmuring of his praise. Fuck, that’s it, baby. That’s my girl. 

His hand flies to your hip, fingertips indenting your skin so hard you know they’ll bruise. The grip tightens and forces you down, and it's only then that you realize you’re writhing beneath him, begging with barely intelligible pleas. A faltering groan rips through his chest as he stills inside you, and the warmth that spreads through your core feels like nirvana. 

Every other sense goes hazy as the heat coursing through you lowers to a simmer. Your eyes feel too heavy to focus. Your ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. But you can feel him as Javier melts into you. You can feel his panting breaths where his face is tucked into your neck, cooling the sweat that clings to your skin. You can feel the rise and fall of your chest against his. You can feel the ache in your thighs, still pressed wide around his waist. You can feel his cock slowly softening inside of you, still twitching in a valiant effort to get hard again. All you can do is feel - as if every synapse in your brain can only focus on this while your consciousness slowly reboots. 

It isn’t until you shiver that Javier finally moves. The man runs hotter than a furnace, so your air conditioning works overtime to keep the house at a pleasantly cool temperature. But the slide of cold air against your bare skin is almost too much, too stimulating after it all. He shifts off of you with a grunt, shushing your displeased whine at the loss of his heat. Two fingers tap your hip. You crack one eye open to find him kneeling next to you, pillow in hand. 

“Lift.” He murmurs. 

A teasing smile twitches at the corner of your lips. “You’re ridiculous.” 

You do it anyway. 

“Well, you’re the one who married me, so I think that says more about you than me.” He teases right back. He shoves the pillow beneath your hips, a slight frown on his face as he adjusts it to his satisfaction. So concentrated, intent to get it right down to the most minute detail. He tugs a blanket over you both and settles in next to you with a heavy arm thrown over your belly to keep you close. His nose nudges your temple and he sighs, sounding so content that you fall for him all over again.  

A yawn takes you by surprise. “‘M tired, Javi.” 

“Mmm, I bet.” He presses a kiss just below your ear. “Take a nap, baby. Gonna need all the rest you can get.” 

You don’t remember falling asleep. There’s nothing in between the hazy memory of Javier burying his face in your neck and the growl of your stomach that wakes you. Every cell in your body thrums with an exhausted kind of satisfaction despite the protest of your empty stomach. Javier is still pressed against you, hasn’t moved an inch aside from the leg he’s hooked with yours. You let yourself savor his weight, his body heat, the steady rhythm of his breathing - until the hunger pangs get too annoying and you have no choice but to extricate yourself from his long limbs. It’s a slow process in your efforts not to wake him.

Your foot has just brushed the floor when Javier’s arms lock around your waist and he drags you back into the sheets. 

“Wh- Javi!” You wiggle around in his grasp in a half-hearted attempt to free yourself. You only stop when he nips at your shoulder, his sharp canines digging into your skin. “Ah, stop it!

“I’ll get it,” He grumbles as he kisses over the mark he left. “Whatever you want, I’ll get it. I’m not letting you out of this bed today.” 

“Oh?” You tease. “And how long do you plan on holding me hostage, Mr. Peña?” 

It starts simple - a set of silken sheets that you bring onto the Crest. Din returns to find you sprawled out on the small bed you share with a sleepy smile that makes his chest feel funny. Your fingers fan out against the soft material.

“Come feel.” You murmur. He doesn’t hesitate to tug off the thick leather gloves and brush the fabric with the back of his fingers. You watch as his shoulders soften, his head tilting as he takes in the foreign feeling. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” He says contemplatively. “It’s soft.”

Your smile widens and you shift over, making room for your lover. “Join me?”

“In a bit,” Din promises. The chill of his beskar soaks into your skin as he presses his forehead to yours. His warm palm cups your cheek and he holds you there for a breath before pulling away. “I have some more work to do.”

It isn’t hard to convince him to strip down when he joins you later that night. He’s exhausted, body aching from a long day’s work. He lets you strip away his armor and flight suit until he’s left in his briefs. You’re used to him falling asleep the moment he collapses into bed - but tonight is different. His eyebrows raise in surprise when he relaxes back into the pillows, his fingers rubbing circles against new sheets. Din is a man of few words but it’s obvious how much he likes the new addition to the bedroom.

“Come here,” He whispers, beckoning you to join him. The tension melts from his body as you curl up against his side. He tilts your chin up and kisses you softly, a wordless offer of his thanks that you eagerly accept. Surrounded by the cool sheets and the woman he loves, he falls asleep within minutes. That morning, Din lingers in bed for those first drowsy moments after waking. He wakes you with a few gentle caresses of his hands over your shoulder and arm and a murmur of your name. He looks more rested than usual.

You make sure to buy matching pillowcases the next time you’re out.

With every passing day, Din learns how to slow down and savor the morning. It doesn’t take much to keep him in bed with you a little longer each morning - a few soft touches and sweet kisses, and Din sinks right back into your arms. He rubs his face into the crook of your neck and drifts in and out of sleep, practically purring with every brush of your fingers through his hair. His voice, so deep and rough first thing in the morning, rumbles low in his chest as he murmurs his love into your skin. It’s simple, this early morning peace the two of you share. So simple, but so important.

You slip into the shower with him one random evening. You can’t help it. He’s been gone for two days straight on a bounty hunt and you’ve missed him. His eyes light up with interest as they trail over your naked body, his hands finding your waist and tugging you against him. A shiver of desire arcs up your spine - but you didn’t come here to get fucked silly in the shower. Well, not yet at least. You loop your arms around his shoulders and press up on your toes to kiss him properly. Din groans against your lips, already moving to press you against the shower wall. A gentle tug on his hair is enough to stop him in his tracks.

“Can I wash your hair?” You ask, looking up at him like the picture of innocence.

Din blinks at you, confused. “You want to… wash my hair?”

“Yeah,” You say softly.

There’s no need to over-explain. The two of you have mastered this silent communication over the months you have spent together. He searches your face for a moment before his expression softens, implicit permission given in the way his eyes shine for you. You gently lather shampoo into his thick curls and let your nails drag along his scalp in the way he loves. His eyelashes flutter under your touch but his eyes don’t close. He’s too intent on watching you. The grip he has on your hips tightens as you work, little groans falling from his lips at the simple pleasure of your hands on his body.

He lets you maneuver him and tilt his head back into the water without a hint of resistance. For a man so used to keeping everyone at arm's length, the trust he holds for you is plain as day. His cock twitches against your belly as your fingers meticulously work the suds from his hair. The barest hint of your skin against his is enough to get him riled up, but this…? The press of your slick, bare body pressed against his? His body language begs for more. He leans into the press of your fingers and cants his hips forward, slowly grinding against you with stuttered breaths.

The moment the water runs clear, Din lifts you by your thighs and presses you against the cold shower wall. You can’t help but admire the bulge of his biceps as he leverages you up and nudges your entrance with the head of his cock, searching your face for permission. The hungry kiss you drag him into is all the permission he needs. A new rush of adrenaline seizes his body as he sinks into you. He fucks you hard and fast, pace faltering at the pure heaven of your body. He wedges his hand between your bodies and rubs insistent circles against your clit. He just knows your body too well - within minutes, those frantic bursts of pleasure built into a powerful orgasm that leaves you trembling and weak in his arms.

Din buries his face in the crook of your neck as he spills inside of you just seconds later. Every moan and panted breath echoes through the small shower. You shiver at the feeling of his lips pressed against your neck. He always knows just where to kiss and touch to leave you like putty in his hands. He goes willingly when you guide him in for a real kiss, lazy and slow as the water streams against you. Careful not to let you slip, he lowers you onto your feet and maneuvers you until the water pounds against your back.

You should have expected him to return the favor. Din doesn’t take no for an answer.

“It’s your turn.” He murmurs, too adamant and stubborn to be swayed. You’ve always loved that about him, even when it gives you grief.

You melt into his chest as he works product into your hair, his fingers massaging at your scalp in a way you didn’t even know you needed. Little sounds of satisfaction fall from your lips with every touch. Sometimes you forget just how big his hands are. He palms the back of your head and draws you close enough that your noses brush, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. He just watches you for a moment as he thoroughly washes your hair. He takes in the way you look up at him with an expression so full of love that he aches.

“I love you,” His voice is so low that it almost gets lost in the thrum of water, but you hear it. He can tell by the way your eyes light up, by the soft smile that curls your lips.

“I love you, too.” You whisper back. Din kisses you softly before tilting your head back and rinsing the suds from your hair.

Slowly but surely, you introduce Din to a life he never realized was possible. He learns how to revel in the attention and care you give him. He learns how to give it in return. His thoughts always return to you when he’s on a bounty, knowing he has to return to his little love waiting for him at his ship. Every now and then, he finds something to bring back to you - a little trinket, some sweets, a new book. You always look at him as if he’s placed the entire universe in the palm of your hands. Fuck, he would do it, too. Anything to see you so happy.

Din returns from a week-long bounty exhausted, sore, and with a little gift in hand. It’s just a new robe, something soft and airy for you to wear on those long nights in hyperspace. You gasp softly when he hands it to you, your fingers exploring the silky fabric as if it’s precious - and to you, it is. Not because it’s some rare or expensive treasure. Just because it comes from him.

Allowing you to remove his armor is as easy as breathing. He eagerly accepts every touch and kiss you give him, more than happy to let you do as you please. You set every piece of armor aside with care and neatly fold his flight suit. It doesn’t take any convincing to get him into the shower with you. The burning heat of the water soothes some of the aches that linger in his muscles. A dull throb still follows his every move but he powers through, not wanting to spoil such a pleasant evening with his lover.

He never really learned that he can’t hide anything from you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as he eases himself onto the edge of the bed.

“Just sore,” He concedes, slowly rolling his shoulders in a vain effort to ease the tension. Your eyebrows furrow as you look him over with a keen eye. All you wear is that scrutinizing expression and the pretty robe he got you, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful. He sighs and reaches for your hand. “Come on, let’s just get some sleep.”

“You can’t sleep if you’re this uncomfortable.” You squeeze his shoulder, frowning when you feel how tight his muscles are. “Let me help.”

Din meets your gaze, your eyes so earnest that he doesn’t even think to deny you. He lets you maneuver him as you please until he’s laid out on his belly with you straddling his hips. A low groan rumbles through his chest when your hands bear down on his shoulders. Every pass of your fingers brings a strange combination of pleasure and pain that leaves him melting into the bed.

Even after all these months, he just isn’t used to the feeling of your skin against his. A simple passing touch is enough to have him shivering, but this? It’s overwhelming, all-consuming in the best possible way. It doesn’t take long for that pain to melt away into pure pleasure. Breathless, needy sounds follow every pass of your fingers. He can't help but rock his hips, grinding his cock into the silken sheets.

By the time you've finished working your thumbs into his lower back, you've reduced the Mandalorian beneath you into a desperate, hungry mess. He goes without hesitation when you urge him onto his back. His hands immediately find your hips and he grinds up into the heat of your cunt. The only thing that stops him from flipping you over and fucking you into the sheets is the gentle hand you place on his chest.

“Let me.” You whisper. Your voice carries a soft thrum of need that leaves him aching. “Let me take care of you.”

His fingers tighten at your hips at the mere brush of your fingers against his cock. That grip becomes bruising as you slowly sink onto him. Pleasure curls through his belly at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him, so hot and slick and perfect - it would be so easy to lose his mind in the rapture of your body. It isn’t easy to keep his eyes open under the onslaught of pleasure, but it’s well worth it. He’s rewarded with the sight of your jaw falling slack and a shiver wracking your body. The stretch, the angle - it’s all new to you. You aren’t used to taking him this way. He isn’t used to letting you.

You sigh a breathy, pleased little sound that makes his heart skip a beat or two. Fuck, you might just be the death of him one of these days. It’s a demise he welcomes if it means meeting his end at your hands. That first roll of your hips has his head tipping back into the pile of fluffy pillows, yet another addition of comfort you’ve brought to this bed. You can’t take your eyes off him - the flex of his biceps, the clench of his jaw, the sheen of sweat that glistens on his tan skin. A delicious vision of the man you’ve come to love so dearly. You lean down and press a kiss to his chest, his collarbone, to that sweet spot where his pulse thrums in his neck.

Your fingers comb through his curls, bringing his pleasure-clouded gaze back to your own. His lips part as you set a slow, steady pace. Every rise and fall of your hips makes his eyelashes flutter but he doesn’t look away. He’s too entranced by this, by the pure newness of it all. Heat pulses and courses through your belly with every grind of your clit against him, grows stronger with every needy sound you pull from him. His chin tips up, an obvious plea, and you kiss him. Soft and slow, full of tongue and teeth.

Din doesn’t think he’s ever experienced anything quite as overwhelming as this. He isn’t a stranger to the feeling of your body or the love you somehow hold for him, but this is all new. Every slow rock of your hips sends honeyed pleasure slinking down his spine. There’s no need to rush. He can take his time and truly feel you, revel in the plushness of your thighs and the wet heat of your cunt. For the first time, he lets himself explore your body unhurried. His hands drift up and palm your breasts, his fingers rolling your nipple with a gentle touch. Your head tips back as you hum a pleased little sound.

Din can’t help but press his hips up, rising every time yours fall. He doesn’t take control, doesn’t try to set a faster pace. He just moves with you as fluid as rushing water. His hands shift to cup your ass, his fingers digging in and spreading you out for him. Desire clouds your gaze as he grinds his hips at that perfect angle that makes you see stars. You’re so close - he can feel it in the telltale rhythmic pulse of your cunt, in the way your thighs tremble. Slick drips in little rivulets down his thighs.

“Perfect, so perfect,” He rambles between rushed breaths. “My sweet girl, all mine.”

“Yours,” You promise. “I’m yours.”

All it takes is one perfect rock of his hips to have you falling apart for him. That tension finally bursts through your belly, your cunt tightening around him with every aching wave of pleasure. You lose all sense, all ability to keep your pace, but Din is quick to take over. His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you down, spilling himself as deep as your body can take him. You let yourself melt into his chest, a wave of pleasure shuddering through you with every twitch of his spent cock.

Din locks his arms around your back, all too content to keep your body against his. No complaint comes from you. You just tuck your face into his neck with a spent sigh. The two of you float together in that sweet, exhausted haze. He doesn’t know for how long, but he never wants it to end. He never wants any of this to end. He wants this forever, for every possible moment of his life to be soaked in this contentment. Surrounded by soft sheets and the smell of your perfume. Unhurried and easy, with you.

Months ago, such a realization would have thrown him into an existential crisis. But he didn’t have you all those months ago - this sweet, bright-eyed, spitfire of a woman currently taking a cat nap on his chest. He didn’t have the sweet scent of your shampoo infused in his sheets. He didn’t have your soft exhales ghosting along his throat. He just didn’t know that life could be like this. The moment you shift as if you’re making to get off of him, his arms tighten around you.

“Just a little longer,” He murmurs, his voice sleepy and pleasure drunk.