#ttwj

“Say it…” He growls, his hips rocking forward.

Deep, deeper, deepest.

It didn’t matter. It wasn’t enough.

“Tell me what I wanna’ hear.”

You have one hand fisted in his damp hair and the other leaving crescent-shaped indentations in his shoulder. You pant, your face buried in the crook of his neck, soft whines leaving your raw, kiss-flushed lips with every snap of his hips.

He wasn’t sure how long the two of you had been there. Mere minutes? Hours? Days? He’d stopped counting, stopped questioning— had he ever questioned this? He couldn’t remember. If he had, all of those queries had long sank into euphoric oblivion. All that was left was you.

Leaning down he cages your head between his arms and demands once more, “Tell me, Baby. Tell me what I’ve always known.”

“M’yours,” You mumble, hand tugging softly at his hair, back arching up, your soft body meeting to contours of his hard one.

He moans in your ear and the sound rocks through your body. You shiver, another soft whimper leaving your parted lips between pants.

“Mine,” Stephen says, the single syllable coming from somewhere deep inside his soul, his body trying to match his timbre as he sinks impossibly deeper into your heat, “You’re mine, Augustine.”

Deep, deeper, deepest.

It still wasn’t enough. He needed more.

He needed to live inside you. He needed to feel your warmth wrapped around him for life. Longer than that.

Maybe religion wasn’t such a bad idea… if it meant he’d be able to spend eternity wrapped up in you.

Pulling back just a bit, Stephen looks down at you. Your face coated in a thin sheen of sweat, blonde lashes fluttering as your eyes open and close. Beautiful eyes. Magnificent eyes. He’d never considered himself a poet or a romantic, but he could see worlds inside your irises. Layers of greens and browns and gold unlike anything he’d ever seen.

Your hand runs down the plane of his back, gentle fingers sliding over his obliques, a soft smile on your lips. White hair falls over your shoulders and pillows.

“Beautiful,” He whispers, “So beautiful.”

Your smile grows, your hands settling on the small of his back as you reply, “You should see yourself.”

But he could see himself.

Why could he see himself?

“Tell me what you told me earlier,” You request, rolling your hips upward, “That’s what I want to hear.”

And he hadn’t said it earlier. Not that he remembered. But somehow he knew exactly what you wanted him to say.

“I love you.”

You flutter around him at the declaration, lips parting as you let out a soft moan, your eyes rolling back.

“I love you,” He repeats once more, reaching up to take your face in one hand, “I’ll love you forever.”

In a flash of no specific movement, you’re sat atop him, large, plush thighs straddling his waist, bare chest on display. You balance yourself using his thighs and throw your head back. You look glorious. You feel incredible… indescribable.

Your hips roll like waves, using his body to chase your own pleasure, and that was pleasure enough for him. His hands find your hips, kneading at the soft flesh, his eyes devouring you.

Perfect.

Perfect.

“Perfect,” You moan, “Feels so good, Stephen,” Your legs quiver, “S’too good.”

He reaches down and strums over your clit, though his eyes don’t stray from your face. You looked radiant. Literal light seemed to emanate from your person. Blinding and hot and—

Stephen’s eyes shoot open. Directly in front of him, the San Diego skyline. Yellow sunlight beams in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He rolls over, groans as if in agony— which he felt he was— and slams his fist into the pillow at his side.