20 Zara #4
That’s when he settles between my thighs, slow and unhurried, the tip of his bare cock lined up to me with aching precision. There’s no condom this time. Frankly, I know it’s stupid, but I don’t want it. We’re both clean, I’m on birth control, and this moment calls for something deeper.
I want nothing between us.
When he finally pushes inside me, it’s controlled, filling me inch by inch until we’re both trembling. We stay there for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, letting our bodies adjust. Then he moves.
It’s not fast or frantic. Each thrust is deep and intentional, drawing soft, broken sounds from my throat that he seems to collect greedily. His hands lace with mine beside my head, fingers locking tight as if he’s anchoring himself to me.
His eyes flick to my mouth, then back to my eyes, searching, open and vulnerable in a way that makes my chest ache.
“I love you,” he whispers as he moves, voice rough, like the words are scraped straight from his ribs. “Zae, I love you so much.”
My heart stutters, then races.
“I love you too,” I breathe, the words shaking as they leave me. “So much. It hurts.”
“I know,” he says, kissing me again, slow and deep and reverent. “Me too.”
We fall into a rhythm that feels less like sex and more like unity, as if we’re doing more than just joining our bodies.
Every roll of his hips is answered by a shift of mine.
When the tension builds again, it’s slower this time, warmer, spreading through me in pulses instead of crashing all at once.
He feels it before I say anything, hand sliding to my lower back to pull me closer, his other hand cradling my jaw, forcing my eyes to his.
“Look at me,” he murmurs, voice shaking. “Stay with me.”
I keep my eyes open as everything crests, watching his expression change as I fall apart beneath him. The way he watches me come undone looks almost reverent, like he can’t believe I’m letting him see this part of me.
He follows not long after, a rough sound torn from his chest as his grip tightens, forehead pressing harder to mine as if he’s trying to make us one. And for a moment, it feels like we almost are.
The sensation of his cum shooting into me is one I won’t soon forget. One I know I’ll crave more but won’t let myself do often.
When it’s over, he doesn’t roll away. He braces himself so he doesn’t crush me, chest heaving, heartbeat slamming against my ribs through his sternum.
I smooth my fingers along his spine, feeling the fine tremor running through him.
“Hey,” I whisper, nudging his nose with mine.
His eyes crack open, and there’s so much in them—relief, wonder, a little bit of fear—that I almost start crying again.
“Hi,” he rasps, lips curving.
“That was…” I trail off, searching for a word that isn’t cringe or wildly inaccurate. “A lot.”
He huffs out a laugh, dropping his forehead to my shoulder. “In a bad way?”
“In a you ruined me for anyone else forever way,” I respond, tracing patterns across his shoulders. “Not that I picture an anyone after you.”
“Good,” he mutters as he smiles into my skin. “That’s the goal.”
We clean up enough to not be disgusting, moving in the quiet, trading soft jokes and lazier kisses. The fort stays intact, the miracle of miracles. The movie remains paused somewhere around the midpoint. Calcifer watches over us with his little embroidered angry face.
At some point, we end up curled on our sides, facing each other, our legs tangled. The blankets are pulled up around our shoulders, the string lights casting faint golden halos in his hair.
He brushes a strand of hair off my forehead, knuckles feather-light. “How’s the energy bar now?”
I think about it. About the exhaustion in my bones, about the sadness that still hums under the surface, about the way they’re both tempered by this quiet, enveloping warmth.
“Still not green,” I admit, feeling almost guilty for saying it but not letting that emotion sink in. “But definitely less orange. Maybe yellow with sparkles?”
He smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll take sparkles.”
“You help. A lot.” I nudge his chest lightly so he knows I’m teasing. “Because you don’t try to fix it. You just stay without pressure, without bullshit words. Just you by my side.”
His throat works as he swallows. “I’m not going anywhere. Even on the days your bar is red. Especially then.”
I believe him.
For the first time in my life, I really, fully believe someone when they say they’re staying. Because he knows it all now, has seen it, understands it, and is still here.
It’s terrifying.
It’s everything.
“Good,” I whisper, scooting closer until our noses bump. “Because you’re stuck with me.”
He smiles, slow and soft. “Best trap I’ve ever fallen into.”
I roll my eyes, but my heart is doing cartwheels.
We talk in low voices until the words start to slur with sleep. He tucks my head under his chin at some point, his hand splayed across my back.
The last thing I remember before sleep finally pulls me under is his fingers drawing lazy shapes between my shoulder blades and his voice, warm and certain, murmuring against my hair.
“Sleep, Sunshine,” he says, brushing a kiss to the top of my head. “I’ve got you.”
For once, my brain doesn’t argue.
It just believes him.