The desperation in my voice wins him over. He laves me once more with the hot, wet flat of his tongue, eliciting a soft groan from me. Then he levels himself above me, those beautiful, sunlit emerald eyes pools I could fall into forever.
“I do love it when you beg,” he says softly, nuzzling my nose with his. I can feel his hot, stiff cock between my thighs.
“Please,” I say again, smiling right back. “Please, Nik, won’t you fuck me?”
He slowly begins to slide inside of me. I grip his biceps, the corded muscle like steel beneath my palms. Pleasure floods me the deeper he plunges, until he’s fully in and we’re both breathless with restraint. He pulls my lower lip between his teeth, and begins a gentle, deep rhythm.
I arch my back, wrapping legs around his hips and grinding against him. He watches me, eyes glittering with pleasure, lips parted. He’s so beautiful, so imperfectly perfect—and he’s mine. I push him back and climb on top, placing my palms flat on his muscular chest. He grips my ass, grinning as I begin to ride him. He hits just right, and I throw my head back, spine arched as I take him in deeper and deeper.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, the timbre of his voice ragged with pleasure. He looks up in wonder at my body, running his hands over every curve.
His lust and love, the hungry look in that beautiful face, have me desperate. I sink my fingers into his shoulders, throwing my head back as I ride him. The friction is delicious, leaving me breathless. My moans begin to rise, his grunts coming in tandem. I gasp as the climax floods me, crying out and gripping him tight. He gasps slightly, clutching my hips as he comes inside of me.
My moans continue bouncing off the walls as I ride the orgasm, wave after wave of buzzing, electric pleasure. Nik’s ragged breathing only pleasures me more. When it slowly begins to sap out of me, I fall onto my back beside him, gasping.
“I thought you said you were going to be gentle,” he growls, but there’s a smile in his voice. He twines his fingers with mine. “But I don’t mind.”
“You’re terrible.”
“Am I?”
I roll onto my side, drinking in the sight of him, naked and beautiful in the falling sunlight. “No.”
He looks at me, strokes my cheek with the back of his palm. “I always knew.”
“Knew?”
“That we’d find our way back to each other.”
My heart warms. “I think I did too,” I say softly. He pulls me closer, and I rest my head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.
And somehow, after the blood and war and sacrifice, everything feels perfect—here in the free world we’ve built for ourselves.
Or, I suppose, for each other.
THE END
