Urivvs

He’s come close many times. You are his favorite thing to talk about, which includes talking about all the things he loves about you.

“I love your smile.” “I love how the moon is reflected in your eyes.” “I love it when you yell at me.” “I love your morning breath. Not.” “I love the stupid face you make when you’re concentrating.” “I love how you taste.” “I love the way you say my name.” “I love your butt. Lemme smack it, sweetcheeks.”

But he hasn’t said that he loves you. You. Buggy has only shared his adoration for the things you do. How you look. Just pieces of you, not the whole.

You didn’t expect to hear those words you craved while being pounded on top of the captain’s desk.

Your ass hung off the wooden edge as Buggy pressed his hips into yours. Each hard thrust jostled the desk, knocking over pens and paper, and sending shockwaves through your sensitive body. The slap of damp skin making contact overlaid the sporadic deep creaks of wooden legs moving against the rough floor.

Buggy’s humid breath tickled your neck and fell down your chest, with the cotton breeze dragging across your hard nipples. His tongue trailed along your skin, the taste of salt filling his mouth. Puffy, kiss-bruised lips graze your racing pulse, keeping track of how quickly you were approaching the finish line.

His desire to consume still unsatiated, Buggy sank his teeth into the meat of your shoulder and wrapped you in his embrace. A strong hold full of heat and fire.

Desperate to throw yourself into the flames, you fell into him. You melted against Buggy’s body, against his touch. All you wanted was to feel him. To feel his hardness deep inside. To feel his passion. To feel his devotion.

Buggy groaned deeply as your body continued to mold to his movements, pulling him further inside. His lips moved on your skin, saying everything and nothing. Bountiful praises, filthy adoration, lewd and lustful comments laced with profanity. How much he loves your body. He loves how you feel. He loves how well you take him. He loves…

“I love you.”

His voice was clear and the words were finite. They’re not followed by anything else. And he repeated them. Again and again, with each thrust. Filling your mind, body, and soul to capacity, until you overflowed. Until tears leaked from your eyes. Until you clawed at Buggy’s shoulders, pulling him ever closer. Until you cried his name. Until you exploded. 

You erupted with an intensity that triggered a chain reaction. Buggy let out a choked moan as he released inside you with stuttering thrusts that slowly came to a stop.

Your body trembled with aftershocks that Buggy tried to soothe with gentle kisses. One to your neck. Your cheek. And your forehead. With the third kiss, you let out a long exhale and your body relaxed.

Later, you two laid entwined in bed. Buggy used your shoulder as a pillow with long blue hair fanned out behind him. Your arm was wrapped around him, not yet numb from the position. The pirate had hooked one of your legs between his, which he rubbed lazily like a cricket. A comforting weight from his crooked arm rested on your chest. His large hand rested just below your other shoulder, also moving idly. Pat, pat, pat, then a soft swipe back and forth, followed by another trio of light pats. A calming pattern that would often lull you to sleep. But not tonight.

“You know, that was the first time you said you loved me…” you murmured.

It was a comment. An observation you wanted to share with him. Not to complain that you hadn’t heard it before - you knew he loved you - but to acknowledge the milestone.

“Mmmh…” Buggy’s voice was rough as he pulled back from the sleep that was enticing him. He rubbed his face against your skin, grinding into his cushion of hair. You could just barely feel the scratch of his facial hair as he moved side to side to side. “First time out loud, I guess.”

The response didn’t make sense. Maybe Buggy was more tired than either of you realized. His hand was still moving, in the same slow pattern of hand-pats. You kissed the top of his head and inhaled, welcoming his warm, lightly musky, scent. He hummed softly and tilted his face to respond with three quick kisses. He seemed conscious enough, so you prodded further.

“What do you mean by out loud?”

Buggy pulled away just enough so he could look you in the eyes. Confusion was plastered across his unpainted face and he searched for understanding.

“With words. But I’ve told you loads of times that I love you,” he said, nodding slowly as he finished speaking - as if you needed the reassurance.

Rebounding his confusion with a squint, you responded in a measured tone, “I don’t know what you mean.” You two stared at each other, thoughts traveling on opposite, parallel tracks. “Buggy, what do you mean? How do you say it without actually saying it?”

Buggy scowled. “What do you mean? You’re the one that started it.” He had been following your lead. Why were you acting like you didn’t know? Like he hadn’t been professing his love to you every single day?

“I-I still don’t understand. Explain it to me,” you asked. “Please?”

Ocean eyes stared into yours, looking for shadows of insincerity. But there were none. You really didn’t know. You hadn’t heard his silent proclamations.

“I tell you like this,” he said in a gruff voice, patting your arm with more intent. Pat, pat, pat. “Or like this…” He leaned in and gave you three kisses on your forehead. “Like this…” He rubbed a hairy leg against your trapped one, three times again. Always three. I. Love. You.

“When you say it, you always squeeze my hand or rub my back or give me kisses three times. I thought that…” A surge of embarrassment overcame Buggy, drowning the rest of his words. 

He saw the comprehension on your face as he spoke, but not recognition. You weren’t doing it intentionally. That’s why you didn’t realize. He just made it up.

Feeling a prickly heat travel up his chest, burning his cheeks and the tips of his ears, Buggy sat up. He hid behind his hands and wallowed in the awkward silence.

“Is that why you always put 3 sugars in my tea?”

He nodded.

“And you sneak me three cookies?”

Another nod.

“Three flowers…” Nod. “Is…is that why there’s 3 pillows on the bed?” Nod. “When you hug me, you squeeze three times…” The statement was followed with another nod.

He was right - Buggy always told you he loved you. Within every touch and every thought that involved you was his love. If his hand was on your shoulder, his thumb tapped in bursts of three. When he smacked or pinched your butt - threes. You thought it was a quirk of his, not something he chose to do. But he did.

Your heart was bursting at the seams, and the excess emotions that did escape trickled out your eyes. Bowling over the morose clown sitting on the bed, you knocked Buggy back and began to smother him in kisses and tears. Most of which landed on the hands still covering his face.

“M’sorry, I didn’t know.” Kiss. “-was just so happy to hear it out loud.” Kiss. “I love you so much.” Kiss. “I’m sorry, Buggy.” Kiss. “Thank you for telling me.” Kiss. “I love you so so much.”

You paused and tallied up the kisses. Five. Tugging his hands down, you deliver the final kiss on his lips. Six. Double threes. I love you, times two.

“Please, don’t ever stop. That makes me really happy, Buggy. It makes me feel loved…” 

Buggy nodded. Three times. The blush that continued to deepen on his face managed to spread to yours. Two crimson-faced fools in love.

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