i will sing you morning lullabies
i will sing you morning lullabies
mr. gold/belle (once upon a time); r
~2,800 words
It took time, and more than one argument, but eventually she found herself, not surprisingly, falling back into his arms. Now things were better-normal, even.
(Warning: cavity inducing fluff. Seriously. We deserve a reprieve from all the angst we're having to go through right now.)
notes: thanks to saturninepen for helping create mr. thatcher with me. we love him far too much even though he's just an itty bitty part. this is also partially dedicated to zombres to tell her that i love her and am thinking of her and lovelysolitude for being my cheerleader. also here at ao3.
He woke up to a dull throbbing in his knee as he did every morning. Stretching it out, he exhaled slowly and winced. It had become routine at this point, something he simply had to live with. Simplicity was only something he had recently come to understand, however. Rolling onto his side, his eyes fell on the person who helped him understand it.
Smiling felt so natural when he was with her, especially in these quiet moments, her face pressed serenely into the pillow, an old, striped, button-up pajama shirt riding up her back. She had found it deep within his closet and upon holding it up, declared it her pajamas. Reaching out, he ghosted his fingers up her spine and took notice of the way the little hairs on her back stood on end and how she shivered. When he looked back at her face, her eyes were fluttering open and he continued smiling.
“Morning,” she said sleepily, stifling a yawn afterward.
He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder and her cheek and then finally her lips in response. When she tilted into him, one of her legs moving to intertwine with his, he gripped the back of her neck lightly. As they broke apart, she scooted closer to him and nuzzled her head beneath his chin, letting the steady beat of his heart lull her eyes back shut.
He gingerly ran his hand up her bare thigh, traced the edge of her underwear with a finger, and she hummed pleasantly. His - her - shirt was pushed up and as he pressed his hand lightly along her navel, she felt a lurch of pleasure in the pit of her stomach, and warmth pooling between her legs. This seemed to wake her up and she arched against him, her lips landing over and over again up his neck and along his jaw. She shifted so she was partially lying on top of him and that was when she caught sight of the clock.
“Is that the time?!” she squeaked and suddenly moved to scramble off the bed until one of his arms snaked around her middle to prevent her from doing so. She was pulled up against him and he buried his face in her hair, one of his hands moving up to gently cover her breast. He grinned at the sound she made, failing to stifle it by biting down on her lip.
“What does it matter what the time is?” His hand began to massage tenderly as his other slipped precariously downwards until it was batted away.
Reluctantly, she peeled his hands off of her and was able to jump out of the bed before he caught her again. “I have to be at the library in twenty minutes! Remember? That job I got?”
“And nothing I say can convince you that your time would be much better spent in bed with me?”
“You’re incorrigible, Rum,” she muttered as she began riffling through the clothes she had bought for herself over the past several months since the sheriff had rescued her.
“No, just trying to make every moment count, love.” His voice was gentle and it suddenly made her turn towards him, clothes momentarily forgotten. Her smile could have lit up all of Storybrooke as a deep flush quickly spread from her neck to her cheeks. Ducking her head, she swiftly finished getting dressed before moving to sit on the edge of the bed beside him.
She rested her hand on his cheek, each of their smiles perfectly compatible with one another. “I’ll see you for lunch. Not so long from now.”
“Much too long. I want to spend every moment with you, make up for lost time.”
“We have the rest of our lives for that.” She smiled, believed it, and leaned down to kiss him. She stroked the back of her fingers across his cheek and he sighed into the kiss. He ran a hand down her side and as she pulled away, he felt her muscles tighten, knew she was leaving grudgingly, only because she had to. One last kiss was brushed across his forehead before she darted out of the room, into the life that had been restored to her.
The air in Storybrooke was brisk and fresh. It was so unlike the air she had been used to in the cell. It made her smile as she walked down the street. A lot of things were doing that lately. For a while she had been afraid she’d never smile again. Even when she was rescued it was hard. It had been disorienting with so many words and faces she didn’t recognize-at least not immediately. There were threats and for the first couple of weeks, Rumpelst - ah, Mr. Gold in public - refused to let her out of his sight, even as she stayed at the inn and stubbornly fought against him. Her bitterness from the way he treated her overflowed into this world. She certainly wasn’t going to let him off the hook after nearly beating her father to death, either. It took time, and more than one argument, but eventually she found herself, not surprisingly, falling back into his arms. Now things were better-normal, even.
Storybrooke had no castles or enchanted forests or ogres and it hadn’t been easy to adjust to. Nonetheless, that’s precisely what she did. Its residents (well, most of them) were quick to welcome her and she wasn’t going to deny friendship when she had been without it for so long. She could still hear whispers, rumors about what had been done to her, who she was, and a particular favorite was her relationship with Mr. Gold. Still, they were harmless and when she got a smile from Mary Margaret or Mr. Hopper on the street, she felt lighter.
Turning a corner, the library loomed before her and in the middle of the path between it and her, Regina walked. If there was one person who could still get Belle to tremble in fear, it was her. She was learning to cope, however, and the trembles were almost fleeting now. With her chin turned upwards in defiance, Belle kept eye contact, made it clear she was no longer afraid of her. Regina hurried her steps, a scowl on her face, and soon she was behind Belle. It would all be a learning curve.
“Ah, good morning, Isabelle. I was wondering if you were going to make it in today.”
Belle smiled good-naturedly, turning to hang her coat (and also to hide her blush at the memory of why she was late, Mr. Gold’s hands caressing her). “Just a small delay.”
She was grateful for the job at the library. Mr. Gold had assured her that it wasn’t necessary but she insisted and Thaddeus Niles Thatcher (who went by Niles to most people), the librarian, was more than happy to give her the job. It gave her something to do, something to distract herself with, and made her feel more integral to Storybrooke. Plus she got to spend hours each day surrounded by books. She couldn’t imagine anything better except, of course, her lover being here as well.
As she began her duties for the day, returning books to their rightful places, she ran a finger delicately down each spine as she did so. She felt so at peace. It was a change she was still getting used to but not at all an unwelcome one. She was particularly fond of helping children whenever they came in looking for a book, especially Henry, the fact that he was Regina’s son never entering her mind. Conversation when there was a respite of visitors was always another one of her favorite activities of this job. Thaddeus was old and gentle, with bushy white eyebrows and the kindest smile she’d ever seen. He had stories to tell, so many stories, more stories than could ever fit into the library, and he always made her laugh. It was more than a good match.
On her lunch break, she had a pattern.
“Izzy! I was wondering where you were.” Ruby leaned her forearms on the counter as Belle pulled herself up onto a stool. “The usual, I assume?” At Belle’s smile, the waitress smirked in response before moving away to grab the pot of coffee and put in Belle’s order.
While she waited, Belle turned in her seat and took in the sight of the diner. It was a place in Storybrooke she had come to feel comfortable in. Most places were now, though it had taken some time. At first she had stayed in her room at the inn and when she ventured out, she never strayed too far into the center of town where most people congregated. She took up taking long walks in the forest, listening close to the sounds of the wind through the trees.
It was a gradual process but she weaved herself into the community of Storybrooke and day by day her steps grew with confidence and her shoulders carried less weight. Then she found her way back to Rumpelstiltskin. Or rather, she made him find his way back to her. She still loved him, unequivocally, but she had no intention of making this easy. He stepped up the plate, however, and finally - finally - she knew what happiness was again.
It didn’t take long for Ruby to come back with a large, brown paper bag and slide it across the counter towards Belle. “I’m not even going to pretend I understand you and Gold,” Ruby began, and Belle’s heard it before, from many more people than Ruby, and she smiled. She didn’t expect people to understand, not when she didn’t understand it at first. “But you should really ditch him for a night to come out. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
Belle wasn’t actually sure she’d have much interest in what Ruby considered might be ‘worth her while’ but she kept smiling anyway. She considered Ruby a friend and felt oddly more self-assured when she was around her. “Perhaps one day I’ll take you up on that offer. But for now - lunch!” Ruby laughed and shook her head, watching the brunette scurry out of the diner, so different from when she had first laid eyes on her.
Belle loved Mr. Gold’s Pawnshop. She wanted to familiarize herself with every trinket and object he had in there. She wanted to create her own stories behind every clock and lamp and the little items that were tucked away that people rarely ever thought to look for. She did it slowly to make it last, only pouring over a handful of items each week and spending inordinate amounts of time with them.
At the moment, however, she flew by all the various objects littered throughout the shop, and made a beeline for his back office. He looked up when she entered, lunch in tow, and she felt the butterflies in her stomach turn into elephants at the sight of his smile-his smile that was reserved solely for her. “Hi,” she said simply and set the bag down on the desk, all nerves and smiles. She felt comfortable with him now, more than comfortable, never anxious and yet she found he still made her spine tingle.
“Hello,” he replied, amusement laced throughout the word. He wove his fingers together, elbows resting on the arms of his chair as he watched her climb into a chair of her own on the other side of the desk. “How is the library?”
“Oh, it’s wonderful,” she gushed, as she did any time someone asked her about it. “Niles told me a new story today.”
They lunched like that, simply talking - usually her more than him - and getting to know one another again. Belle especially noticed how far each of them had come. She once more found the fiery spirit Regina had slowly stripped away from her, year after year in that cell in the hospital. She became a fundamental part of Storybrooke, as if she had known these people for much longer than she did in reality. She formed a particular friendship and respect with Emma. As for Mr. Gold - no, no, Rumpelstiltskin for this - he finally allowed himself happiness. It was immensely satisfying.
“I’ve said it before,” Belle began as she slid a French fry through some ranch dressing. “But I’m still so amazed at how different you look.”
“Better, you mean.”
“That’s not what I said.” She raised an eyebrow as a challenge and he backed down hastily. “And it’s not just physically.” At his nod, she continued. “You’re lighter, and more vulnerable. You feel whole.”
“Oh, that’s all because of you, dearie.”
She ducked her head for a moment to hide the blush. “I was so angry with you.”
“Yes, you didn’t try to hide it at all. I’m sure everyone was aware.”
“You really believed… that I was dead all this time?” She saw the reaction on his face, like she had suddenly punched him in the gut. They hadn’t much talked about this since her rescue, or even since they finally came together as they always should have been. He hadn’t pushed her and she was grateful that. He so easily could have, and within his own rights too. He had treated her with such reverence that it overwhelmed her.
He was quick to respond after his initial reaction. “No. I don’t know. What other choice did I have? I searched for you, which is no lie. But greater matters arose - this curse, for example.”
“She taunted me that she’d use me against you and that I would forget you.”
“She has quite an excellent knack for that - underestimating people.” His lips pressed together in a thin smile. She could tell he was putting forth an effort to keep his emotions in check for her and not press her with questions. She was sure he would never stop amazing her. She didn’t realize just how much the same held for him.
Her smile was wide and infectious. “True love can overcome anything, remember? Henry’s very insistent on it. He’s still entirely baffled by who you could be.”
“Yes, won’t he be surprised when he finds out Rumpelstiltskin is the beast?”
“The prince,” she corrects him.
He went quiet for several moments. “…I would destroy her for you.”
“I know.” Her answer is firm and without hesitation. “And one day we will. We.” She said it like that because she had never felt hatred before, not really. People always thought they did but she knew now it was a difficult feeling to harness. After being locked away as a means to an end, denied any semblance of happiness, lied to and put away as if insane, in both worlds, she detested the Queen.
“And until that day, love, we both need to get back to work.”
Belle hesitated to believe him, tried to convince herself that they still had all of lunch left but she knew it was a lost cause. She was light on her feet as she darted around the desk to where he was sitting. His hand was out in an instant and he lightly ran his fingers along her arm, gripped her wrist as she leaned down to kiss him. His tongue glided across her lower lip. “No, no, no,” she began and twisted free. “Work, remember?”
That night, work was a distant memory. His hands mapped every curve and line of her body, brushing her breasts and rolling the hardened nipples between his fingers, reveling in the sound she made when he did. He licked at the skin over her collar bone, the sweat on her skin salty and arousing. Her breath was hot against his neck and she grasped at his body wherever she could, hooking a leg over his hip, wanting to be as close to him as possible.
When they came together, she dug her nails into his back, a wordless scream on her lips. She gasped his name once, twice, and was interrupted the third time by his kiss. Her hands held onto him tightly, gripping his hips, pulling him down, wanting to be closer, closer, closer. He panted above her and when he felt her tighten around him, he groaned, low in the back of his throat. He felt a shudder run throughout the length of his body and called out her name, a single name that held the weight of his entire existence in it.
They lay together, spent and exhausted. She felt the race of his heartbeat beneath his breastbone and traced a finger lightly across his stomach. He brushed his fingers through her hair as each of their breathing grew softer. He closed his eyes as he heard her hum contentedly.
“I love you.”
“And I you, dearie.”
mr. gold/belle (once upon a time); r
~2,800 words
It took time, and more than one argument, but eventually she found herself, not surprisingly, falling back into his arms. Now things were better-normal, even.
(Warning: cavity inducing fluff. Seriously. We deserve a reprieve from all the angst we're having to go through right now.)
notes: thanks to saturninepen for helping create mr. thatcher with me. we love him far too much even though he's just an itty bitty part. this is also partially dedicated to zombres to tell her that i love her and am thinking of her and lovelysolitude for being my cheerleader. also here at ao3.
He woke up to a dull throbbing in his knee as he did every morning. Stretching it out, he exhaled slowly and winced. It had become routine at this point, something he simply had to live with. Simplicity was only something he had recently come to understand, however. Rolling onto his side, his eyes fell on the person who helped him understand it.
Smiling felt so natural when he was with her, especially in these quiet moments, her face pressed serenely into the pillow, an old, striped, button-up pajama shirt riding up her back. She had found it deep within his closet and upon holding it up, declared it her pajamas. Reaching out, he ghosted his fingers up her spine and took notice of the way the little hairs on her back stood on end and how she shivered. When he looked back at her face, her eyes were fluttering open and he continued smiling.
“Morning,” she said sleepily, stifling a yawn afterward.
He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder and her cheek and then finally her lips in response. When she tilted into him, one of her legs moving to intertwine with his, he gripped the back of her neck lightly. As they broke apart, she scooted closer to him and nuzzled her head beneath his chin, letting the steady beat of his heart lull her eyes back shut.
He gingerly ran his hand up her bare thigh, traced the edge of her underwear with a finger, and she hummed pleasantly. His - her - shirt was pushed up and as he pressed his hand lightly along her navel, she felt a lurch of pleasure in the pit of her stomach, and warmth pooling between her legs. This seemed to wake her up and she arched against him, her lips landing over and over again up his neck and along his jaw. She shifted so she was partially lying on top of him and that was when she caught sight of the clock.
“Is that the time?!” she squeaked and suddenly moved to scramble off the bed until one of his arms snaked around her middle to prevent her from doing so. She was pulled up against him and he buried his face in her hair, one of his hands moving up to gently cover her breast. He grinned at the sound she made, failing to stifle it by biting down on her lip.
“What does it matter what the time is?” His hand began to massage tenderly as his other slipped precariously downwards until it was batted away.
Reluctantly, she peeled his hands off of her and was able to jump out of the bed before he caught her again. “I have to be at the library in twenty minutes! Remember? That job I got?”
“And nothing I say can convince you that your time would be much better spent in bed with me?”
“You’re incorrigible, Rum,” she muttered as she began riffling through the clothes she had bought for herself over the past several months since the sheriff had rescued her.
“No, just trying to make every moment count, love.” His voice was gentle and it suddenly made her turn towards him, clothes momentarily forgotten. Her smile could have lit up all of Storybrooke as a deep flush quickly spread from her neck to her cheeks. Ducking her head, she swiftly finished getting dressed before moving to sit on the edge of the bed beside him.
She rested her hand on his cheek, each of their smiles perfectly compatible with one another. “I’ll see you for lunch. Not so long from now.”
“Much too long. I want to spend every moment with you, make up for lost time.”
“We have the rest of our lives for that.” She smiled, believed it, and leaned down to kiss him. She stroked the back of her fingers across his cheek and he sighed into the kiss. He ran a hand down her side and as she pulled away, he felt her muscles tighten, knew she was leaving grudgingly, only because she had to. One last kiss was brushed across his forehead before she darted out of the room, into the life that had been restored to her.
The air in Storybrooke was brisk and fresh. It was so unlike the air she had been used to in the cell. It made her smile as she walked down the street. A lot of things were doing that lately. For a while she had been afraid she’d never smile again. Even when she was rescued it was hard. It had been disorienting with so many words and faces she didn’t recognize-at least not immediately. There were threats and for the first couple of weeks, Rumpelst - ah, Mr. Gold in public - refused to let her out of his sight, even as she stayed at the inn and stubbornly fought against him. Her bitterness from the way he treated her overflowed into this world. She certainly wasn’t going to let him off the hook after nearly beating her father to death, either. It took time, and more than one argument, but eventually she found herself, not surprisingly, falling back into his arms. Now things were better-normal, even.
Storybrooke had no castles or enchanted forests or ogres and it hadn’t been easy to adjust to. Nonetheless, that’s precisely what she did. Its residents (well, most of them) were quick to welcome her and she wasn’t going to deny friendship when she had been without it for so long. She could still hear whispers, rumors about what had been done to her, who she was, and a particular favorite was her relationship with Mr. Gold. Still, they were harmless and when she got a smile from Mary Margaret or Mr. Hopper on the street, she felt lighter.
Turning a corner, the library loomed before her and in the middle of the path between it and her, Regina walked. If there was one person who could still get Belle to tremble in fear, it was her. She was learning to cope, however, and the trembles were almost fleeting now. With her chin turned upwards in defiance, Belle kept eye contact, made it clear she was no longer afraid of her. Regina hurried her steps, a scowl on her face, and soon she was behind Belle. It would all be a learning curve.
“Ah, good morning, Isabelle. I was wondering if you were going to make it in today.”
Belle smiled good-naturedly, turning to hang her coat (and also to hide her blush at the memory of why she was late, Mr. Gold’s hands caressing her). “Just a small delay.”
She was grateful for the job at the library. Mr. Gold had assured her that it wasn’t necessary but she insisted and Thaddeus Niles Thatcher (who went by Niles to most people), the librarian, was more than happy to give her the job. It gave her something to do, something to distract herself with, and made her feel more integral to Storybrooke. Plus she got to spend hours each day surrounded by books. She couldn’t imagine anything better except, of course, her lover being here as well.
As she began her duties for the day, returning books to their rightful places, she ran a finger delicately down each spine as she did so. She felt so at peace. It was a change she was still getting used to but not at all an unwelcome one. She was particularly fond of helping children whenever they came in looking for a book, especially Henry, the fact that he was Regina’s son never entering her mind. Conversation when there was a respite of visitors was always another one of her favorite activities of this job. Thaddeus was old and gentle, with bushy white eyebrows and the kindest smile she’d ever seen. He had stories to tell, so many stories, more stories than could ever fit into the library, and he always made her laugh. It was more than a good match.
On her lunch break, she had a pattern.
“Izzy! I was wondering where you were.” Ruby leaned her forearms on the counter as Belle pulled herself up onto a stool. “The usual, I assume?” At Belle’s smile, the waitress smirked in response before moving away to grab the pot of coffee and put in Belle’s order.
While she waited, Belle turned in her seat and took in the sight of the diner. It was a place in Storybrooke she had come to feel comfortable in. Most places were now, though it had taken some time. At first she had stayed in her room at the inn and when she ventured out, she never strayed too far into the center of town where most people congregated. She took up taking long walks in the forest, listening close to the sounds of the wind through the trees.
It was a gradual process but she weaved herself into the community of Storybrooke and day by day her steps grew with confidence and her shoulders carried less weight. Then she found her way back to Rumpelstiltskin. Or rather, she made him find his way back to her. She still loved him, unequivocally, but she had no intention of making this easy. He stepped up the plate, however, and finally - finally - she knew what happiness was again.
It didn’t take long for Ruby to come back with a large, brown paper bag and slide it across the counter towards Belle. “I’m not even going to pretend I understand you and Gold,” Ruby began, and Belle’s heard it before, from many more people than Ruby, and she smiled. She didn’t expect people to understand, not when she didn’t understand it at first. “But you should really ditch him for a night to come out. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
Belle wasn’t actually sure she’d have much interest in what Ruby considered might be ‘worth her while’ but she kept smiling anyway. She considered Ruby a friend and felt oddly more self-assured when she was around her. “Perhaps one day I’ll take you up on that offer. But for now - lunch!” Ruby laughed and shook her head, watching the brunette scurry out of the diner, so different from when she had first laid eyes on her.
Belle loved Mr. Gold’s Pawnshop. She wanted to familiarize herself with every trinket and object he had in there. She wanted to create her own stories behind every clock and lamp and the little items that were tucked away that people rarely ever thought to look for. She did it slowly to make it last, only pouring over a handful of items each week and spending inordinate amounts of time with them.
At the moment, however, she flew by all the various objects littered throughout the shop, and made a beeline for his back office. He looked up when she entered, lunch in tow, and she felt the butterflies in her stomach turn into elephants at the sight of his smile-his smile that was reserved solely for her. “Hi,” she said simply and set the bag down on the desk, all nerves and smiles. She felt comfortable with him now, more than comfortable, never anxious and yet she found he still made her spine tingle.
“Hello,” he replied, amusement laced throughout the word. He wove his fingers together, elbows resting on the arms of his chair as he watched her climb into a chair of her own on the other side of the desk. “How is the library?”
“Oh, it’s wonderful,” she gushed, as she did any time someone asked her about it. “Niles told me a new story today.”
They lunched like that, simply talking - usually her more than him - and getting to know one another again. Belle especially noticed how far each of them had come. She once more found the fiery spirit Regina had slowly stripped away from her, year after year in that cell in the hospital. She became a fundamental part of Storybrooke, as if she had known these people for much longer than she did in reality. She formed a particular friendship and respect with Emma. As for Mr. Gold - no, no, Rumpelstiltskin for this - he finally allowed himself happiness. It was immensely satisfying.
“I’ve said it before,” Belle began as she slid a French fry through some ranch dressing. “But I’m still so amazed at how different you look.”
“Better, you mean.”
“That’s not what I said.” She raised an eyebrow as a challenge and he backed down hastily. “And it’s not just physically.” At his nod, she continued. “You’re lighter, and more vulnerable. You feel whole.”
“Oh, that’s all because of you, dearie.”
She ducked her head for a moment to hide the blush. “I was so angry with you.”
“Yes, you didn’t try to hide it at all. I’m sure everyone was aware.”
“You really believed… that I was dead all this time?” She saw the reaction on his face, like she had suddenly punched him in the gut. They hadn’t much talked about this since her rescue, or even since they finally came together as they always should have been. He hadn’t pushed her and she was grateful that. He so easily could have, and within his own rights too. He had treated her with such reverence that it overwhelmed her.
He was quick to respond after his initial reaction. “No. I don’t know. What other choice did I have? I searched for you, which is no lie. But greater matters arose - this curse, for example.”
“She taunted me that she’d use me against you and that I would forget you.”
“She has quite an excellent knack for that - underestimating people.” His lips pressed together in a thin smile. She could tell he was putting forth an effort to keep his emotions in check for her and not press her with questions. She was sure he would never stop amazing her. She didn’t realize just how much the same held for him.
Her smile was wide and infectious. “True love can overcome anything, remember? Henry’s very insistent on it. He’s still entirely baffled by who you could be.”
“Yes, won’t he be surprised when he finds out Rumpelstiltskin is the beast?”
“The prince,” she corrects him.
He went quiet for several moments. “…I would destroy her for you.”
“I know.” Her answer is firm and without hesitation. “And one day we will. We.” She said it like that because she had never felt hatred before, not really. People always thought they did but she knew now it was a difficult feeling to harness. After being locked away as a means to an end, denied any semblance of happiness, lied to and put away as if insane, in both worlds, she detested the Queen.
“And until that day, love, we both need to get back to work.”
Belle hesitated to believe him, tried to convince herself that they still had all of lunch left but she knew it was a lost cause. She was light on her feet as she darted around the desk to where he was sitting. His hand was out in an instant and he lightly ran his fingers along her arm, gripped her wrist as she leaned down to kiss him. His tongue glided across her lower lip. “No, no, no,” she began and twisted free. “Work, remember?”
That night, work was a distant memory. His hands mapped every curve and line of her body, brushing her breasts and rolling the hardened nipples between his fingers, reveling in the sound she made when he did. He licked at the skin over her collar bone, the sweat on her skin salty and arousing. Her breath was hot against his neck and she grasped at his body wherever she could, hooking a leg over his hip, wanting to be as close to him as possible.
When they came together, she dug her nails into his back, a wordless scream on her lips. She gasped his name once, twice, and was interrupted the third time by his kiss. Her hands held onto him tightly, gripping his hips, pulling him down, wanting to be closer, closer, closer. He panted above her and when he felt her tighten around him, he groaned, low in the back of his throat. He felt a shudder run throughout the length of his body and called out her name, a single name that held the weight of his entire existence in it.
They lay together, spent and exhausted. She felt the race of his heartbeat beneath his breastbone and traced a finger lightly across his stomach. He brushed his fingers through her hair as each of their breathing grew softer. He closed his eyes as he heard her hum contentedly.
“I love you.”
“And I you, dearie.”