your lips pressed comfort into the outline of his jaw, soft thighs and warm hands hugging him, straddled around his waist and wrapped around his shoulders. your scent provided him ease, delicate notes of that lovely shampoo you always used forcing him to relax as your thumbs worked around the tension in his shoulders. by nature he fought against it, rigid and almost dismissive, but soon his cold hands slid up the expanse of your naked thighs, dipping beneath the soft cotton sleepshirt you wore. the silver rings were ice against your warm skin as he splayed his fingers with a sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. he couldn’t resist you and he knew it, he didn’t know why he tried. he kneaded your ass gently, allowing you to kiss away his worries as best you could.

he always found it remarkable how you tamed him so effortlessly.

you had your life ahead of you. you were full of potential and life, a symbol of hope and promise to mikey. you reminded him of a life he wished for, one where he could be normal instead of like this. stuck in a cycle of death and loss, corruption and abuse that left him so shallow hearted and empty. he looked in your eyes and saw the life he wished he had, and selfishly he clung to you for only a taste.

a taste that came in the form of strawberry lip balm.

his pelvis met yours slowly, gently grinding into you as he fisted the sheets beside your head. his tongue dipped in your mouth and teeth nipped against your lip, panting heavily into one another as your legs wrapped around his waist. the feeling of your heels in his back drove him in deeper, sting behind his eyes forcing him to clamp them shut. his head fell in the crook of your neck, dizzy from the sensation, drunk from your elixir.

he found refuge in you, his home between your thighs much more satisfying than that villa near the beach he spent most his time in. the way you welcomed him greedily and readily no matter how long he took to come back to you was matched by nothing else. no one, nothing could make him feel as loved as you did, even if you weren’t trying. even when all you did was say his name in those syrupy tones you do, babbling mindlessly about how much you loved him and how perfect he was. all you did was make him feel something, and to him that was more than enough. it was enough to bring tears to his eyes as he emptied himself over and over inside you, until you gushed and gushed around him, until it ached him to continue and he still pushed to give you more like you desperately begged for.

mikey just wished one day he’d find the courage to say it without fear of losing you too.