We don’t say a word.We don’t need to.Every look, every touch that passes between us says more than any words could.
She slides her panties off, and moves to straddle me again, but I guide her back, easing her onto the couch.“Let me,” I murmur.
I start at her ankle, peppering kisses up her calf, behind her knee, and then up the inside of her thigh.
She spreads her legs wider, her center glistening it’s so wet, and I drag my tongue through her folds, tasting every thing I’ve missed.Her back arches, a whimper sounding from her; a sound that I swear I’ll hear forever.Her nails dig into my scalp as my tongue moves slow, steady, then deeper, building until she’s trembling under my hands.I don’t stop until she comes apart, until she gasps my name like it’s the only one she will ever need to say again.
I give her a moment to breathe, then crawl up her body, kissing every inch until I reach her breasts.I suck one nipple into my mouth, hard, then the other, my hands anchoring her hips when she writhes against me.
Her fingers find my shoulders, dragging, needy.I move higher, capturing her mouth, tasting her, tastingus.My body shakes with need, cock throbbing, slick at the tip.
I shift my hips so I’m between her legs, line myself up to her core, and push, slow, deep, inch by inch, until every nerve is me screams with relief.Her eyes flutter open, and for one long heartbeat, we just exist like that.Connected.Whole.It isn’t fire, it’s like loss of gravity.Warm, steady, consuming us from the inside out.Floating in a place that is entirely our own.A magnet locking into place where it always belonged.
Then I move.Not fast.Not frantic.Just a rhythm we fall into naturally, bodies remembering the choreography our minds forgot.Her hips rise to meet mine, soft gasps turning to moans, her nails scoring my back as the couch creaks in protest.
I brace my forearm beside her head, the other hand gripping her thigh, guiding her to move with me.Each slow thrust drags a new sound from her throat – half gasp, half plea, and I match each one with my breath against her ear.The rhythm builds like a song that refuses to fade.The longer we move, the more everything else blurs until there’s only pulse and skin and the sound of her moaning my name.
The air grows thick with heat, our breaths, our heartbeats.My control starts to slip.She feels too good, too right.“Look at me.”I whisper.
Her eyes lock on mine, glassy and full of everything I’ve been starving for.
“I’ve got you,” I tell her, my voice rough.“I’m right here.”
“Luc…” she breathes, hips trembling under my hold.
“Come for me, baby.”
She does.Her entire body bows, tight and trembling, and I follow, because there’s no universe where I don’t.The pleasure rips through me, hot and consuming, every muscle pulled taut as I spill inside her, lost in the sound of her release.
The only light is the lamplight, the hum of the fridge in the background, the quiet breath of our daughter asleep down the hall.
I brush a strand of hair from Lily’s cheek.She smiles, soft and wrecked and real.
We don’t say a word, we don’t need to.It’s in the silence, in the heartbeat pressed against mine, in the way she sighs my name like a promise that’s finally found its way home.
We stay tangled long after the tremors fade, hearts tripping over each other.The air tastes like salt and forgiveness.When she finally smiles, it’s the slow kind that says she knows exactly what we just rebuilt.
I wake up to warmth.Her breath on my chest, the soft weight of her thigh over mine, her fingertips curled in the fabric of my shirt like even asleep she’s afraid I’ll disappear.I’ve never felt more whole than I do in this single, quiet second.
Then—
BANG.BANG.BANG.
The bus door shakes.A fist hammering it like the world’s ending.
“LUC!GET UP!You need to see this!NOW!”Dean.And he sounds - not cocky.Not amused.Panicked.
Lily flinches awake, bolting upright, eyes wide.Larkin stirs in the bedroom behind us, a little whimper floating through the quiet before settling again.
“What?”she whispers, voice raw with sleep and leftover tenderness.
I don’t have time to answer.Another slam.Harder.
“Luc!Open the damn door!”
I throw on sweats and open the door.Dean barrels inside holding his phone like it's a bomb.And then I see the screen.A photo.Grainy but unmistakable.Lily.With Larkin in her arms.Outside the bus yesterday.
A headline screaming across it:
