A little something with dirty things for pass the time... hope you'll enjoy this!
A couple of weeks after what should have been her departure, Lisbon got back to her newly rented apartment with spring in her step: finally, she had been given back, full time, her old job. And if that wasn't reason enough to celebrate… she knew that, that day, Jane had seen his doctor to be cleared off for duty.
And no- it wasn't knowing that he would be back in the field to make her happy, but the fact that he was going to be declared fully healed. Ergo… the fun could finally begin. After years and years, she was going to stop dreaming and having dirty, sexy fantasies on her consultant, for in no time he was going to be hers for the taking. She smirked, wondering if the almighty mentalist was able to do his mind-tricks in the bedroom too, and if his hands were as good on a woman's body as they were when he played cards. She felt herself blush, her nipples hardening almost painfully, thinking about how his touch on the bare skin of her breasts could feel like, his thumbs rolling the nipples as he nipped the skin at the juncture of her neck and her shoulders, his lips going lower and lower, until she could feel him blowing on her navel, his talented fingers still at work on her breasts; and then… then a touch of his tongue, teasing, just where she needed it the most, moving on her lips, licking over them like he was licking her lips to force her to kiss him. But it wasn't a kiss he was after, nor she; so, as he was still arousing her breasts with his touch, teasing her sex with his tongue, she put her hands in action, one on the back of his head, pushing him against her, the other opened herself up to his penetration, showing her coral core to him in all its glory, all for the taking. She felt Jane smirk against her inner thigh, and then he moved in, and penetrated her with his tongue, his lips pressing down on her clit, so close to her opening, given her pleasure as she had never felt before….
Screw dinner, she told herself as she unlocked the door, shaking her head as to awake herself from the sinful fantasy she had, once again, fallen victim to. She couldn't wait any longer. She would enter in her own place, and then kiss him, and drag him to bed and have sex with him until they couldn't walk any longer. And maybe some more. They had the weekend free, after all. Two days and an half to just discover how kinky they could be, to push each other boundaries and some more. Blindfolds, handcuffs, silk, stiletto heels, role-play… what was he going to like? And what was his favorite sexual position? Was he an expert of the Kamasutra? Did he liked giving head, or did he just loved that it was given to him? She groaned, walking at closed eyes across the rooms, her whole being lapped by the flames of desire.
She needed him, there and then. Screw the bed. Screw carpet bourns. Screw even the condoms- it wasn't like she wasn't on the pill, after all.
But when she entered in the kitchen, and saw him sitting at the table with his head between his hands, almost desperate, it was like cold water had been dropped all over her. Seducing the man who had kissed her at the airport would have been easy, but this desperate man right before her needed a shoulder to lean on, someone who would listen to him, and not a… a nymphomaniac who had spent the better part of her nights, for twelve, long, years, touching herself in the darkness of her room, wishing it was his touch to bring her to orgasm.
She needed the sex. He needed her more, though.
"Ehy." She simply said, with a sweet smile tainted by worry. She sat at his side, nuzzling his neck as she gave him a sweet, domesticated kiss on the tanned skin. She wanted to add what's wrong? Are you all right? but she didn't dare to. It was too soon in their relationship to push him, besides, she knew Jane, the one she had seen when he had opened his whole heart in front of a hundred of perfect strangers so that they could both know the truth. This new Jane was going to talk with her- eventually, when he was going to be ready.
"So…" he started, patting her knee a bit awkwardly, looking in front of himself instead then at her. "Doctor says I'm fully healed. Yahoo, let's celebrate?"
It didn't sound like an affirmation, but a question, and he didn't feel too happy about it. Teresa lifted her face from his neck, and looked at him, really did, just like she had done when he had professed her his love. She met his eyes, and saw the nervousness, and when he looked away, at everything but her, she wondered if he was nervous because he was offering her sex. But how could it be? She wasn't naïf: she had seen the kind of dresses he had taken for her in Miami, short and see through and thigh and low-cut, the kind of dresses that demanded no underwear at all; that, added to the whole scenario (and the condoms she had found while looking for painkillers), screamed an attempt of seduction. In Miami, Jane wanted to sleep with her, bring her back with the promise of sex, giving her a foretaste of things to come. Besides, he was Patrick Jane. they had known each other for over twelve years. He was sex appeal walking. He attracted women like honey with bees. And he had never been upset by this, nor awkward in his encounters.
He then moved to attack, grabbed her head and forced their lips to meet in a sloppy, messy kiss that had nothing of their previous encounters; she moved to straddle him, hoping that it would make things easier, but he suddenly moved, shifting position, and she fell on the cold, hard floor on her butt.
"What the hell, Jane!" She almost screamed, massaging her lower back as she grunted in his general direction. She looked at him with fire and rage, she was ready to demand an answer, or maybe just get back in her room and close herself until he didn't came and ask for forgiveness, but then he groaned in despair, hitting his head against the table, sighing, and she didn't have the heart any longer to be mad with him. How could she? He seemed already like a kicked puppy, after all.
"Uhm, Jane? Are you… is everything all right?" she asked, getting closer to him, his face still buried on the table. She patted his back, all the while still massaging her ass- it hurt, but it did more seeing Patrick Jane, her Jane, like that.
Jane kept in silence, and groaned something against the wood, then, as he understood that her silence meant she hadn't gotten a word, he lifted his face from the cool surface, and stared in front of himself at closed eyes.
"LAST TIME I HAD SEX I DIDN'T LAST MORE THAN THIRTY SECONDS!" He screamed, and then he turned, facing her, with an expression that screamed of terror. Lisbon was simply shocked, because she didn't know what to do or to say: he was a smart man, after all, with a mind filled with… well, everything. He had gone years, years without having sex, of course the first time would meant to be short-lived. She knew it too… and she understood it. how could he not? Did he really believe that she was going to break things up with him and get back in Marcus' bed because he wasn't going to be the perfect lover on their first time?
"It's not only the fact that Lorelai is the last woman I've been… intimate with." He said, gulping down a mouthful of saliva as shame engulfed him. It caused him physical pain to talk about the other woman, but if he wanted for Lisbon to understand, he had to. "Ok, it's that, but it's not only that."
Teresa looked at him as he bit his lips as their eyes met. "Is it me? Because it hasn't been that long since I last slept with Marcus?"
"Uhm, no, trust me, the problem is entirely on my side." He said, taking a big breath, then he said, without taking a whiff of air. "I may not be as experienced as you may think I am."
She simply said Oh, biting her lips, and rolling his eyes a bit, he decided to explain himself a little. he was in a relationship with Lisbon now, after all. he was supposed to be honest and open up to her. "Angela and I got together when we were just fourteen, and we never…" he paused, taking a big breath. It was strange and hard, talking about his late wife with Lisbon, and a little embarrassing, too, for what he was about to say. "We never spiced things up. In the bedroom, I mean."
Really, I thought you were talking about your kitchen. She thought, but didn't say. It was hard (no pun intended) enough for Jane as it was, without her using the lowest form of wit. "Ok. Uhm… I… I appreciate that you have been…" She struggled for words. Faithful? Celibate? Abstinent? She didn't want to hurt his pride, didn't want to sound like she didn't cherish how he was, so she just made a movement with her hands, between the two of them, hoping he would get it. "But it's not like you've never…." He shook his head, and she took a big breath, eyes huge in surprise. Could men do that? She wasn't aware of it. All her other boyfriends had either demanded something or taken things in their own hands when they used to wake up, preys to morning wood. She and Jane had already shared a bed, but it had never been with the intention of having sex, and anyway, she always woke up a good hour after he did, so how could she know that he didn't jerk off in the solitude of her bathroom?
She bit her lips as the image of Jane naked, busy manhandling his cock, hit her full force; she had never seen him naked, and yet here he was, right before her third eye, his body tanned and toned, glistening with sweat, the breath leaving his being in small puffs and eh kept his eyes closed, head thrown back in pleasure, back arching as he pumped himself, thrusting in his fist the long, hard column of silky, steely flesh, his thumb rolling on the tip, smearing his penis with precum to lube himself… thrusting until he sighed, a wicked smile gracing his lips and his still closed eyes as jet after jet he emptied himself on his abdomen, the white, creamy stains sticky on his skin. And then, still at closed eyes, he rubbed the stuff all over his torso with a dreamy expression, and when he was covered with it, he brought his index finger to his mouth, and sucked on it with all his might, tasting himself on his skin and…
"And here I thought that it was an urban legend that women liked to look at their men jerking off…" he said, matter of fact, with the expression he had when he was busy putting another box in his memory palace. "Well, as good as it is knowing that you like to think about me getting dirty, I fear that my answer to your question is, indeed, never. After all, you are supposed to know that I am a master at biofeedback. Do you seriously think that it would be that hard for me, willingly an hard-on away, when I can fake my own death by lowering breathing, blood-pressure and my own heartbeat?"
"I didn't want to insult you! It's just that…"
"That you are disappointed? You think I don't know you've been fantasizing about me jerking on and coming right now? That you've been doing it for years, every time you touched yourself in the darkness of your room, after we had spent the day working on a case together, casually touching each other? That you have expectations because I can read people, so reading your body language and giving you just want you want shouldn't be a problem?" he stood up and paced the room, clearly frustrated, running his hands through his curls. She looked at him doing so for a while, then she stood up too, and joined him, her arms around his neck as she went on tip-toes to get better access to his handsome face.
"Jane… when it will happen…. It will not be special because you are a master of sex. It will be special because…" she gave him a little kiss on chin, blushing like she was a silly teenager in love for the first time. But the fact was, she was being honest. She wasn't going to deny it: she had had dreams, expectations, fantasies. But they didn't matter, because neither of that was real. Jane, though, the man right before her, her man, was real. He was the man she had loved for so long and had thought lost to her forever. He was the man who had found and saved her from herself and a life she didn't really wanted. He loved her, and she loved him back, they had both done so for far too long. It was a cherished feel, the one they shared. Of course it will be different, special. "Because it will be you and me." She gave him another kiss, this time on his right cheek, as he hummed in pleasure. "Because it is always more special when you finally make love with the person you are in love with and who loves you back." She kissed his left cheek, his hold on her stronger and stronger. "And because you know me like nobody did before you." She smiled and gave him one final kiss on the nose, smiling happy. "C'mon, let's get to bed." She said as she took his hand in her own, and dragged him upstairs, in her bedroom.
There, she retreated in her bathroom, changing into the red shirt she had worn when she and Jane had gone undercover- Marcus had never seen her with it, somehow it felt wrong- and then joined him; Jane was already under the covers, wearing pajama pants and a white undershirt, hands joined behind his head, when she joined him, cuddling against him, her head on his heart as the beat lulled her to sleep.
She wanted for her hand to go south, but then she decided against it, and instead she hugged him. right now wasn't the right moment to ask him for sex, not after their talk, when she had told him she understood and she could wait. But, it wasn't a matter of waiting. She could do it, really. It just wasn't fair for him, when he had been deprived for so long of real intimacy. He was a good man, who had been able to make her happy, and that same happiness, he deserved it in return.
But not now, when he was so tired and stressed. Even if she knew that there was nothing better than orgasms to tire men out.
But of course…. They were also a nice pastime to start the day on weekends.
Lisbon woke up well before six, and when she did, Jane was still fast asleep (a miracle, if you were to ask her). What made everything better, though, was the hard weight she felt against her lower back, pressing insistently between her ass cheeks; the fact that he was still clothed as he dry-humped her, still asleep, was a bit of a turn off, but at least her nightshirt had shifted while she was asleep, uncovering her lower body. She turned her head and watched over her shoulder, appreciating the tent in his pants with a grin. Well endowed, but after all, he does have big feet. She thought. That, added to the fact that she was a messy woman (ergo the best lover), made for great fun in the bedroom. they just had to get their first time (or better yet: his first orgasm) out of the way, so that he could last as long as he liked and go at it as many times as they wished, screw insecurities and so on.
Careful not to wake him up (not that it was complicated: when he managed to fall asleep, he slept like a baby for a good eight-ten hours), she untangled herself, and opened her drawers, looking for few items she was going to need, if they both wanted to enjoy some healthy sex; she knew it wasn't going to look too spontaneous, and that it really didn't go along with her whole "let's make it special" speech of the previous evening, but she didn't want to waste time any longer. Twelve years had been way too long, it was time she took (literally) matters in her own hands and spurred him in the next phase of their life together. For God's sake, she was going to turn forty in few weeks, her clock was ticking and if he was as serious as he said he was… well… they could still have a chance to have a family. But that would have meant nothing, if he didn't have sex with her first. and since he was scared…
Looking over her shoulders, she put on her garment, black stiletto heels, fishnets hold-ups and dark green lace, see-through lingerie, a push-up bra that made her breasts look like they were ready to explode, and a sinful thing who wasn't really covering anything at all, easy to put aside to gain all the access they were going to need, finishing with the last touch, a dark red shade of lipstick worth of a fifties diva. Once she was done, she carefully climbed back in bed, and on her hands and knees, she made her way towards Jane's groin. Once she was level with the tent in his pants, she straddled his legs without putting weight on him, and with her small, delicate hands, she lowered the slack enough to free his erection.
She gasped, licking her lips and blushing a little at the vision right before her eyes. It was even better than in her dreams, and even if she had already felt it against her, it was even bigger once "naked". At the idea of being filled by that silky perfection, Teresa moaned, as a gush of arousal wetted her sorry excuse of panties, wetting her to her knees like she was a virgin who had never seen a cock up and personal before.
Wickedly smiling, she went at work, performing one of her favorite sex act; she took hold of the base of his erection with one hand, and squeezed him like it was a cock-ring, not wanting to end the fun before it actually begin, then, in tandem, her tongue joined in the festivities, licking it all, up and down, up and down, until a very awoke Jane wasn't moaning and squirming underneath her, his hands on his face like he couldn't believe it to be possible.
She chuckled against his skin, moaning too as the sensation reverberating through his whole being made his bigger, harder, and when she felt a big hand caressing her dark locks, she lifted her eyes, smiling maliciously, like a sex predator, at him, who grinned without saying a word. He wanted to say that there was no need to, that she didn't have to give him head, that he was alright with waiting, but he knew that Teresa was doing this as much for herself as she was doing it for him: his heart may have been healed by her tender presence in his life, by her strength of character, but his body needed someone to teach him how to be a man again, and Teresa, a grown-up, experienced woman who took non prisoners and knew what she wanted, the woman he loved and desired with all his might, was perfect as sex therapist.
As he looked down at her, her tongue and her deep red lips against the pulsing vein, he realized he really didn't know what to do with his hands; he didn't really want to push her against his member, forced her mouth to be fucked ruthlessly, also because everything was new and he didn't know what he was capable of, or what she liked in the bedroom- even if her attire suggested a kinky nature- so he simply tangled the finger of his right in her glossy, long dark curls, while he rested his head on the other hand, enjoying what was happening to him between a symphony of sighs and moans that did nothing but increase as she upped the game, swirling her tongue around him, licking him and sucking on his corona like he was ice-cream.
He groaned and groaned, his free hand gripping with painful force the pillow, the other one tense on Teresa's head, fighting the urge to give up on his male, animalistic instincts, to his darkest urges and desires, his wicked dreams where he fucked her tiny, pouting mouth with brute force until she didn't gag. He wanted to come, shoot his load in her, all over her almost naked body, but it was like a silent imperative given by her radiant, almost divine form, like she was willing him to keep playing until she wasn't going to be satisfied.
And then, then he gasped, as he felt her mouth engulfing him, the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat; the breath dead in his throat, he lowered his gaze until he didn't meet his eyes, and he was met with the vision of Teresa, busy between his legs, never breaking eye-contact with him; she gripped the base of his shaft with her right, her mouth going up and down on him, on tempo with the movement of her talented wrist. But her other hand wasn't idle either: at first, as she was licking him, he could see it disappear underneath the sorry excuse of underwear she was wearing, and he could imagine the movements, the sensations of her fingers dancing on her lips, skimming her clit, and then penetrating her, agonizingly slow, first one, then two, until three of her own fingers were stretching her wet, hot sex, moving in her, pumping slowly at first, and then quicker and quicker, in synch with her erratic breathing against his genitalia.
Then, though, as she shifted every now and then from sucking to licking, she gripped his shaft with strength he knew her fully capable of, her other hand went to tickle his hairy balls, and her tongue played insistently with and in the tiny slit, and as he felt her gasping like she was on the receiving end of such delightful ministrations, the world went black and then burning white right before his eyes, as his orgasm hit him full force, so forceful he felt like he couldn't breathe any longer; he went rigid underneath Lisbon, shooting his load on her chin at first, but then she moved, moaning like a delirious kitty, dry-humping his legs, her mouth once again around his cock, wide-open to receive his pearly, milky seed.
He didn't know how much he spent, or how long it went on, he just knew that it felt like a lifetime, and when he felt like he could get back to the land of the living, he lifted his head slightly, looking at the spectacle he and Lisbon made; his rod was still half-hard, sticky with seed and smeared of her dark red lipsticks, and Teresa's face was in the same state, lipstick that made her look like the Joker and cum on her chin, that she cleaned away with her hand, licking at closed eyes, moaning, what remained on her fingers.
The only thing that left his mouth was the word "Wow".
She giggled like a naughty schoolgirl (Oh, yeah, role-playing was definitely in their future, especially if Teresa decided to wear one of those sexy uniforms) and shaking her head she went into the bathroom; he could hear the water running, and he imagined that she was washing her face, cleaning away the make-up. He guessed that she would have brought back a wetted towel for him too, but he didn't feel like wasting precious time. His newly rediscovered best friend was half-hard again, ready to slap against his stomach at the first sight of a semi-naked Lisbon. He took from "his" nightstand an hanky, and like he was an animal in heat unable to control himself he spilled the glass of water he kept at the side of the bed on the soft fabric, wetting the high-quality cotton too. The water still running in the bathroom, he closed the fabric around his shaft, remembering all the times he had played with himself as a young man, before knowing the bliss of sex with women he loved with all his heart; he touched, skimmed and pumped, almost out of breath, and when Teresa left the bathroom and walked in his direction, arms outstretched over her head enlightening her full breasts , wearing only stocking and porny heels, her sex as bare as a baby's skin, his movements became more erratic; he was almost closing his eyes, going to give in to pleasure once again, when he heard her soft steps approaching the bed, and she tsk-tsked deep in her throat.
Like she was his mistress- which she was, in a certain sense- he obeyed her orders, and he let it go if the fabric, revealing a shiny cock, completely clean, full hard once again.
"Oh, and you were scared you weren't going to impress me…" she chuckled, skimming with a perfectly manicured toenail his engorged sex. He looked at her dreamily, smiling like an idiot, like he didn't believe his luck; he chuckled, too, thinking back to what he wanted to be an attempt at seduction, back in Miami. He had wanted to seduce her there, but had been scared of his performance abilities and what her reactions would have been, and, between the case, her discovery and his doubts he had decided to give up. It came out he shouldn't have been worried: Teresa was erotica walking. And she was all his.
"You know Teresa…" he said, still breathless, lazily pumping his cock as she liked her lips. "I wasn't expecting such a nice surprise…" he indicated the juncture of her legs with a movement of his head, with the expression of an old perverted pig. He almost roared, imagining himself in her, opening her coral lips with his fingers, and penetrating her with his tongue.
Soon, he told himself, but not now. Now his cock was painfully erect, and demanded to spill in her core, so deep to splash of his milky semen her womb; it was irrational, he knew she was on the pill, but the Neanderthal part of his brain- or maybe the lizard one, he wasn't sure, he couldn't be sure of anything with a naked Lisbon right before his eyes – hoped that it wouldn't work, that he would be able to impregnate her on their first time together. He wanted for all the world to see who she belonged to, that she was his for the taking for all the days to come, the only one allowed to thrust so deep in her she could feel it on her tongue.
She chuckled, giggling like she was drunk on alcohol, but inebriated by desire and pleasure instead. "Well, I knew a special occasion was going to come soon, so…" she skimmed again his erection with the same nail, scratching the tissue in a way that made him shiver with need and want, the blood leaving his brain and going south completely. "But I have to say, for your complexes, you are surprising me too, Mr. Jane…."
"Oh, I have a nice sexual therapist. She got me back in perfect shape in no time at all…" he said, grinning like a maniac as he stood up, his cock slapping against his stomach, her eyes never moving far away from his erection. "And, by the way, Teresa…. Can I say that those heels just gave me a great idea?"
He got closer and closer, and Lisbon had to take few steps back, looking at him in the eyes, seeing the same gaze she had seen so many times before; it was intent and sure, like when he was coming out with a plan or he was fighting to get what he wanted for himself- vengeance, justice, her. He was just a breath of air when her knees hit the feet of the bed, and when they were going to give up and she was ready to fall on the soft mattress, he took her for the elbows, and steadied her; he saw her gulping down a mouthful of saliva, and looking tenderly at her, he massaged the skin of her arms, reassuring her that everything was all right and that she didn't have to be scared of nervous- it had been her idea, after all – and he sweetly and tenderly kissed her on the lips, in the exact same way he had in that holding cell, filling his lips with all the love and passion and need he was capable of.
"Do you trust me, Teresa?" he asked her, and she nodded. He smiled of a smile that took her breath away, so filled with happiness it was, and he kissed her one last time, just a peck, before turning her in his arms. His mouth busy kissing the expense of skin between her lobe and her shoulder, he went at work with his hands, one rolled the nipples in hard buds, the other searched for the wet warmth between her legs, his desire hard and insistent against her ass. For a second, she wondered if he wanted to fuck her there, in her only virginal opening, and she immediately realized that she would have allowed him that too had he asked her; but while his fingers were playing with her folds, he made her shift position, and put her on all fours on the edge of the bed; she went to open her legs, but his big, warm hands stopped her before she actually do it, clasping instead her legs together, as she felt the tip of his penis teasing her entrance, rubbing against it.
"Mmm…. Jane…." She moaned, her eyes closed, her head thrown back already foretasting the pleasure to come. She felt Jane chuckle at her back, rubbing his cock against her, penetrate her slowly just a little, just to retreat and do it again and again. It was beautiful, but it was torture too, he had come, but she hadn't yet and she needed to have an orgasm asap. "Give it to me hard…"
"As you wish…" he said, almost out of breath even if he hadn't started to thrust yet. He took his cock all the way out of her, his feet hip width apart, his legs either sides of hers, his hands bruising on her ass, her hips, and without mercy, he entered her in one stroke, delighted by the scream of pleasure/pain that left her lungs as soon as he did so, her hips and ass moving enticingly as to spur him furthermore.
Teresa gasped as he kept roaring like a lion, sounds of ecstasy leaving her lips. She closed her eyes as to live and feel better the experience of Jane filling her for the first time, and with a wicked smile and a chuckle that reverberated through her, she moved a tiny, evil hands between her legs; Jane gasped as soon as she saw what she was doing; Lisbon wasn't simply skimming her clit from the front, increasing the sensation for him as he skimmed over her fingers every time he slammed full-force in her body; if, in fact, her thumb was stimulating her, all the other fingers were busy keeping her open for his penetration. He couldn't lift his eyes from the sight, it was too much, it took his breath away; it was sexy and indecent, almost scary, he was so big, and she was so tiny, and yet she spurred him, wanted more and more.
His thrusts became more erratic as her vaginal canal narrowed around his pumping cock, and as he felt her orgasming around him, he started to slap her ass, frantic in his need to cum in her hot, warm, clenching body; he pumped few more times, and then he come, starting inside her, his seed overflowing, making her come yet again for the burning sensation of being totally filled, totally owned by the only man she had truly wanted. He looked at his seed between them, his rod covered with their mixed juices, and as he left her body, she fell on the mattress, rolling on her back, her hand still between her legs, and he pumped his cock right before her, his eyes rolling his head, and he come and come all over her, few stains even getting on her face; she moaned and squirmed like to get more, her hips undulating, her head trashing right and left as she bit in the same finger she had used to pleasure herself.
When there was nothing left in him to spill, he still stood, on trembling knees, and looked with utter fascination and lust at Teresa; she was still pleasuring herself, was quickly building her next orgasm, when she removed the finger from her mouth, and started to play with the seed on her body, the sensation so strong he spilled on her lower belly some drops of his rich cream from his spent cock, and when he did, it took her breath away, and, eyes and mouth wide open, she came in a silent orgasm.
"Oh, God, I'll never, ever, have vanilla sex again…." He groaned when they had both came down from their highs; he fell on the bed at her side, face first, and he groaned as she laughed, filled by happiness and carefree like she hadn't felt in such a long time. "I think I'm death." He said, the sound muffled by the fabric, but in truth he thought, Why haven't we done this twelve years ago? Or even last year, as soon as I returned from Venezuela. But he didn't voice his thoughts – and his compliments to her in the bedroom department- because he knew the answer; he had been an idiot, he had almost lost her, and he would always remember that. He would treasure her, and what was between them, for the rest of their lives- or at least, until his dying breath.
"You better don't die on me, Jane." She said, nuzzling his neck and spooning him, her lips leaving sweet kisses against his neck. "I still want to live a lot of years at your side."
He turned, and looked at her, smiling, feeling happy an complete for the first time since he had lost his family, tears menacing to leave his eyes as the deepness and importance of her confession hit him full force; she hadn't told him directly the words, and this was as close as she had ever gotten to tell him not only that she loved him- but she wanted him in her life for the long haul.
"I love you." He told her, because now he finally could, and every time he told her the words he felt a little bit freer, brighter, engulfed by happiness like right now he was by her scent. He kissed her, smiling and laughing and chuckling against her skin, and covered her body with his own.
And he proceeded to show her how much he meant those words all weekend long.