It builds—steady, rhythmic, rising like a wave that has waited all night to crest.
The sounds between us are sacred: the hush of breath, the low groans, the whispered words.
Every time our eyes meet, it’s like falling all over again.
The rhythm deepens. Quickens. Turns urgent.
Not rough. Just real.
Two people chasing the same edge, the same high, the same forever.
It begins in my lower spine, tightening with each thrust, each whispered “I love you” shared between us.
When release hits, it’s not just pleasure. It’s everything––years of almosts and never-agains. The relief of survival. The joy of arrival. The ache of being known and loved and needed.
We fall over the edge together, breath catching, bodies trembling, hearts wide open.
And when it’s over, when the high fades and our bodies are still, he doesn’t roll away.
He stays.
Wrapped around me. Inside me.
He buries his face in my neck, arms strong and secure. I kiss his temple, fingers brushing the sweat-damp hair at his nape.
“Forever,” he murmurs against my skin.
“Forever,” I echo.
We lie tangled in the center of the bed, still flushed and slick. His arm wraps around my waist, his hand resting flat over my stomach.
I trail my fingers over his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my palm. Still fast. Still alive with everything we just gave each other.
Then his body shifts, a subtle stretch and press of muscle as he props himself on one elbow.
“I need to see it. I’ve waited long enough.”
The bedside lamp clicks off, plunging us into a soft, dreamy darkness. And then—click. A small violet beam cuts through the shadows as Alex flicks the black light on.
He scans the space between us with curiosity, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin. And then the beam catches on something between my thighs.
He blinks. Pauses. Then lets out a low, surprised chuckle. “Well, hello,” he says, his grin widening.
“What?”
“I think what I’m seeing is a stream of my cum leaking out of you.” he says, entirely too pleased.
“Oh my God.” I say, laughing so hard my ribs ache. “I didn’t even think about that!”
He presses a kiss to the top of my head, his chest shaking with amusement. “Hmm… I think I’m gonna enjoy this flashlight. I can see everywhere I’ve marked you now.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“You’re glowing like crazy, sweetheart.”
He moves lower with a hum of satisfaction, sweeping the beam along my inner thighs, hips, and over the arch of my waist. His expression changes—from playful to captivated.
He’s searching now, not for fun. But for the message and meaning.
