It was the kind of kiss that ruins you for every other kiss after it. Soft, so slow, his moan in my mouth, oh so full of everything we hadn’t said out loud yet. My hands ended up in his wet hair without me even deciding to move them, and I just pulled him closer because I physically couldn’t stand even an inch of space between us.
It was simple and sweet and quiet. I'llneverforget that day. I'll never forget. We were both exhausted, and we hadn't even realized what the hell was happening until we were in the middle of doing it.
I could tell he wanted to fight it, and it's not like it was bad for us to be together. I was legal, but I still think he probably saw me as, like, a little sister or something. But I could tell he was battling it. Then the kiss deepened, and I could tell he was trying to stop. I could feel him for the first time, when my hand accidentally grazed his lap, what it felt like when he was aroused. I wanted him so badly, and he was kissing me harder. But then he stopped very gracefully like a gentleman, even though it was hard for him.
I still remember the feeling of him, just how excited he was and what it felt like. I remember the hungry look in his eyes, the way that for most of our relationship he's looked at me, how much he wanted it. But he waited and waited until eventually he couldn't wait anymore.
A month later, he gave in to the temptation. And boy, did I tempt him. I worked overtime to tempt him because I knew that if I didn't push, he was gonna be too much of a gentleman and not let anything happen.
A year after that, that February, we moved in together in a small apartment in the older part of Hudson Vale. Later that year in November, on the twenty-second, a quiet night at home, he asked me to marry him while sitting next to me on our couch. The following year after that, in June, that's when we got married.
June 17th.
My favorite day out of the whole year because it's the day that I became his and he became mine.
We loved each other fiercely, made love all the time. He was so protective of me, so jealous of anyone who would be around me, always telling me, "You're my woman. You hear me?" And it was beautiful. I would tell him the same thing, that he's my man. Any girl who looked at him, I would not hesitate to let them know that I've staked my claim. He loved it, loved when I would be possessive over him, told me that it makes him feel wanted.
Even when we argued, we would argue with a fierce love, angry at each other but still making love with each other even through our anger, and then laughing it off. God, the angry sex was the best. We'd have sex so much, and even when we decided not to, it was always on purpose, holding off, me walking around with nothing on, teasing him, reminding him that we'd have to wait a week, edging each other.
Where he would put his fingers between my legs, using his middle and index finger to rub over my clitoris, getting me as wet as humanly possible before stopping and then kissing my neck, using his tongue to slide up the front of it before putting his lips on mine, leaning over while we sit together, while he puts his fingers inside of me. God. Just thinking about it now, it makes me shake.
I would do the same, slowly stroking his dick through his pants and then reaching inside and feeling the wet tip, the proof that he wanted me as bad as I wanted him. Then right before either of us could go over, we would stop, panting.
Then he would ask me:
"You sure you don't wanna just do it?"
"No. We're supposed to be holding out," I would laugh.
"I don't think I can hold out anymore. I'm ready to bust right now."
"That's why it's fun," I told him.
And we play with each other all the time, watch shows together, go on walks together, go on adventures together. Just enjoy each other, try to have new experiences and all of that. That was our relationship. We've always felt like each other's family with how long we've known each other.
A big portion of our lives have been with each other. We decided not to have kids, at least not right now. And September twelfth, around five years ago, we had already been married three years, we decided that we were gonna get a baby.
A little hamster that we named Walnut. That was our baby. The money was better, and I couldn't help it. At the Riverside Market, there was a rescue table for animals that had been seized, and that's when we saw Walnut. He was the thing that tethered us even closer together, the easiest version of a kid that we could get without having an actual human baby. It was sweet.
That December, we moved into our house where we live now, and we've been living in it, the money coming in making it easier to pay the mortgage.
Last year, October is when he started his job at Helion, and only early this year it became even more grueling than it was. You see, when he started in October, it was manageable. The money greatly improved. The hours weren't murder.
Life was okay.
We adjusted around it even though I had to see less of him. But then things came with burdens and with catches. Our dynamic began to change. The company starts pushing overtime. Lincoln began staying later and later and later. And honestly, even before then, I was already feeling the distance.
Yes, we're making beaucoup dollars, but weekends have become basically the only time I really get to see my husband when he's not falling asleep or barely has any time because he has to shower and get sleep to do it again the next day. Living expenses are increasing. Our house is not that expensive. I never asked for a big house, but he wants one closer to the job. And of course he's thinking for the future, you know, something that we can call ours, something that will be separated from crime and all of that. He wanted someplace safe for me, someplace where myfather would feel proud. He's always trying to impress my dad. And that's beautiful.
But then last month happened when he came home super late. And, look, I don't wanna be the one to sit here and say that the only reason he was late that night is because it was that woman's birthday, Sarah, his coworker that likes him. He had mentioned it at some point, but he never mentioned it that day. I never brought it up because I didn't want to hear the bad news. I wanted to believe him. And from what he told me, yes, there was a big get-together, but it had nothing to do with that. He legitimately was doing work. That's what he tells me every time, and I believe him.
But now… now I don't know what to think because the truth is we barely see each other, and he's coming home later and later. But this is actually a breaking point for me because out of our whole relationship, this is the only time that he's ever come home in the middle of the freaking morning. This is so unlike him, even more than before when he had come home at twelve, especially given we just had this conversation recently. And I feel like I'm losing my husband, and if I don't speak up and say something now, I'm going to regret it. And this is my way of giving him a way out.
There's a pit in the void of my heart where our love once was, and I feel like he doesn't love me anymore. Whenever I kiss him, he kisses me back, but it feels like he's somewhere else. He's always tired, but I don't know if that's just a front for him being distant or if he's actually legitimately tired. Like, I don't know.
And how will I?
Because we barely talk.
