Oh I really enjoy writing Merle, he's a interesting individual who say just out of pocket shit. I really wish they kept him longer in the show.
Anyways, here is one of my fav chapter so far.
Come and ride or die to the bitter end
Meet me halfway, one step from heaven
Oh, honey, a heart that never breaks
Oh, treasure, mark that never fades
Oh, darling, love me this way
'Til my feet take me to the grave
And angel, sing
Angel, sing
Love is Complicated by Labrinth
Chapter 25 - Ride or Die
As you step out of the prison into the dark, wintry night, a cool breeze caresses your skin. Despite the late hour, the outside is bright and illuminated by the full moon, casting a glow over Rick's garden and the newly built horse shed. Rick and Daryl had constructed the shed after catching a wild horse. it was an exciting day, as you and Carol watched from aside, laughing and making bets, as the men try not to get kicked in the face.
The construction of the outdoor kitchen is going smoothly, and a lot of new people have joined the group. It's been a bit challenging to keep track of everyone's names, but things are going well overall. Throughout all, one thing is clear, the Dixon brothers are well-liked and popular for their hunting skills and ability to track, which has led them to bring many people to safety.
As you walk, you hear a whistle from your right, and as expected, you see Merle leaning against a tree, not too far away. You pull your jacket tighter and approach him. To your surprise, Jamie is standing next to him, partially concealed, listening to whatever Merle is saying.
"Did you get it?" Merle asks, pushing off the tree as soon as you draw near.
"Yeah, yeah," you reply, tossing the small plastic bag that held the weed inside. He catches it with his good arm and sniffs the buds.
"Good, because this here city boy thinks he can roll a better joint than us country folks," Merle says, chuckling with a glimmer of humor in his eyes. He throws his prosthetic arm over your shoulder and leads you down the path. You snort and shove him off you.
"Hey, I'm not doubting your skill. I'm just saying, I can show you the Brooklyn way," Jamie says, laughing and waving an unopened bottle of bourbon. "Besides, you liked the booze I picked, so imagine what I can do with a little paper."
"You did a good job, kid," Merle replies. You raise your eyebrows, looking at the two men and wondering when this unlikely friendship had started. You assume even Merle's racist attitude can't keep him away from Jamie's bright personality. However, besides yourself, Jamie is the only other person genuinely friendly with Merle. After all, even though Charles is closer in age, he's too serious to hang out with the older Dixon.
You look up at the building as your feet stop at the eastern guard tower. It has been Merle's idea to ambush his brother with a good time, and you had warily agreed to it. But now that you are here in front of the guard tower, you're no longer sure. Daryl has been keeping himself busy, and you aren't sure if you are welcome in his personal space. You have only been here once, right when you first came to the prison, but back then, he hadn't turned it into his living quarters.
Merle opens the door and begins to climb the stairs. "Come on now, sweet cheeks," he calls out to you.
"Stop calling me that," you mumble.
"I don't know, sweet cheeks kinda fits you," says Jamie, chuckling as he follows you up the stairs.
"You're only saying that because you have a cooler name," you tell him with a frown, though you doubt he can see it well in the dark stairways. Jamie simply shrugs. 'Brooklyn' is what Merle has been calling him, and that sounds like a much cooler name than some derogatory term he has been calling you since you were a teenager.
Merle arrives first at Daryl's door, with you and Jamie standing behind him. He pounds on the door and calls out, "Hey, you in there!"
Daryl's muffled voice responds, "What the fuck do you want?" as he shuffles around inside. Merle doesn't answer but bangs on the door again, this time even louder, before trying to pull it open.
"What?" Daryl growls at his brother, jerking his door.
Merle chuckles as he brandishes the small bag of weed, waving it around and pushing past his younger brother. "Well, ain't this a fine way to welcome your big brother who's brought you some of the best Grass in this darn city?" Daryl's gaze immediately falls on you.
"Hi," you greet him, waving hello. "We brought booze,"
"And cards," Jamie adds, pulling out a deck of cards from his jacket pocket.
There's a moment of silence before Daryl opens the door wider. As you step inside, you feel his eyes fixed on you the entire time. The last time you were in this guard tower, it was empty, and you didn't pay much attention to it. Now, it feels inhabited and much smaller than you remember.
"Nice setup," Jamie remarks, admiring the private space. "Much better than waking up to a crying baby." Merle snickers at Jamie's statement, and you playfully hit the soldier's arm, giving him a disapproving glance. Though he's not wrong, the sound of a crying baby reverberates in the high-ceilinged prison at night.
Taking a closer look around Daryl's cozy corner, you see his bed is just two stacked prison mattresses providing a softer surface against the hard floor. By the head of the bed, a gas lamp casts a warm glow, illuminating cups and bottles of water neatly lined up by the wall, as well as some fingerless gloves tossed aside. On the opposite side of the wall, a backpack with a few change of clothes and a pair of shoes lay in the corner.
"Pass it over," Merle instructs as he plops down on the floor by the foot of the bed. Jamie joins him on the ground, and you watch as the two men exchange the liquor for the weed. You settle across from Merle, sitting cross-legged, and watch as Jamie takes out the rolling paper and herb, ready to roll.
You observe as Merle opens the whiskey bottle using his knife hand and teeth, but Daryl interrupts him before he can take a swig. "Hey, man, come on," Daryl chides, grabbing a cup from his mattress side. "She ain't drinkin' your backwash," he explains, heading towards the door that leads to the deck. He opens it and empties the water before saying, "Just pour her some first."
"Aw, ain't you just the sweetest," Merle teases, accepting the cup and filling it generously. "Lookin' out for your girl, huh?"
"Shut up," Daryl grumbles, sitting down beside you. You hit Merle's legs playfully, just as you did to Jamie, but you feel a warmth inside you even before you get a taste of the alcohol. You and Daryl maintain a reasonable distance between each other, and you watch as he shuffles the deck of cards.
Merle hands you the cup, then takes a gulp from the bottle first, before passing it to Daryl, who does the same.
"Damn," Jamie exclaims, holding up the rolled joint for inspection. "The millionare, the mansion, the yacht, the two weed spots, the two hot glocks, that's how I got the weed spot." he raps, but the two brothers stare at him blankly. "Anyone? No?"
You take pity on Jamie. "I shot dread in the head, took the bread, and the lamb spread," you rap with a laugh, and you see a smile break out on the young soldier's face. "Biggie Smalls: where the Brooklyn at."
"That's why you're my girl!" Jamie shouts, giving you a fist bump. You reciprocate, laughing even louder as you notice the similar expressions on the Dixon brothers' faces.
"What?" you say, cheeks pink, "I did go to college in New York."
Merle nods in agreement as he turns to the soldier and says, "Go ahead, christen it for us," referring to the rolled pot that Jamie is trying to hand him. You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile as you wonder how this unlikely friendship between Merle and Jamie came about.
You recall that Jamie was once part of Merle's clean-up team during their raid on Woodbury, but you also sense that Jamie finds the older Dixon funny. Perhaps he finds solace in Merle's personality, having grown up with people like him in the urban side of Brooklyn, New York.
The pungent aroma of marijuana fills the air as Jamie holds the match to the flame, inhaling deeply. Soon, the joint is passed to you, and you feel Daryl's eyes on you. Taking a deep inhale, the smoke curls into your lungs as you hold it for a moment. As you exhale, you feel your worries melt away, and the tension in your body eases as you sink deeper into the ground, your body relaxing.
As you pass the joint to Daryl, he asks, "You smoke now?" and for a moment, you're reminded of the first time you smoked with him, coughing to fit of tears.
"Well, I had to get through medical school somehow." you tell him as the world around you becomes softly hazy.
"Like your chupacabra!" Merle hollers, laughing loudly as he recounts the story of their first night with the group camp outside of Atlanta. Daryl claims he saw a chupacabra while squirrel hunting. You and Jamie look towards the younger Dixon, the game of 'Go Fish' forgotten for a moment.
"I saw what I saw," he says with a huff, causing you both to laugh.
"You're tryna tell me that them mushrooms you ate didn't make you feel all kinds of funny?" Merle retorts with a snort as he passes you the joint. The liquor bottle is mostly empty, as the Dixon brothers know how to drink, and a second joint is lit. You feel warm and nicely buzzed and barely pay attention to Merle's ridiculous story. Your competitive mind is more focused on the game at hand, which Daryl is winning.
Jamie speaks up, "When I was thirteen, I took my uncle's happy candy and felt like I was tripping balls for days, so trust me, brother, I totally get it." As you take another drag of the joint, the world around you seems to slow down. The colors become more vibrant, and the sounds more vivid. It's a relief to feel this relaxed after the hectic few months you've had, especially after being shot.
"Got any threes?" you ask Daryl, blowing out a puff of smoke. The smell is earthy and sharp, yet strangely comforting as the smoke twists and turns like a serpent in the air.
Daryl shakes his head, "Go fish," he says, taking the smoke from you, and placing it at the corner of his lips before drawing a card from the pile.
You never played many card games growing up, as chess and puzzles were more your thing. You learned Go Fish from your college roommate as a drinking game during freshman year.
"Damn, I gotta tell ya, the best high I ever had was from a pill I found in a prison mattress." Merle says, but you're not paying attention. As Daryl moves to rotate the weed to Jamie, you lean over, hoping to catch a glimpse of his hand.
"Yo!" Daryl says, cutting off Merle as he pulls his cards away from your eyes. "That's cheatin."
"Nah, I think it's suspicious you won three games in a row," you say, leaning forward even more.
"It's called skill, you goofball!" he exclaims, but you don't listen. With newfound confidence, you place your card face down and reach for his hand.
"No, it's called being a sore loser," you tease him with a laugh, finding the situation amusing due to the alcohol. "Which we both know you are!" You wrestle his arm down, locking it between both of yours, and he lets you.
Suddenly, Merle interrupts the card game, "Hey, Brooklyn, have I shown ya my shiny new reconstructed knife for my arm?" You look up, half of your body on Daryl, as Merle stands up.
"What?" you question the suddenness of it all, watching as Merle pulls the soldier by his arm into a standing position.
"Nah, man," Jamie puts his card down too. "Doc, here said you're almost done with it."
"Let's mosey on over and take a gander at it, why don't we," Merle says, throwing his prosthetic arm over the younger man. "Perhaps you can give me some insights from your city-slicker perspective on how that mechanism should work." You fumble to a seated position, lifting yourself off Daryl.
"Y'all enjoy," Merle says with a very obvious wink to his brother. "I'll take this though," he picks up the bottle, shaking the last bit of alcohol. Daryl looks like a deer caught in headlights as he watches his brother put on his jacket that he had taken off when he first walked in. You bite your bottom lip, pretending to be busy as you collect the deck of cards and put them back in the box. In the corner of your eye, you see Merle making a derogatory gesture to Daryl, tongue between his fingers mimicking oral sex, and with a big smile on his face, he walks out.
"Bye, y'all," you hear Jamie's distant voice as he is already heading down the stairs. There's a bang and the door is closed, leaving an awkward and tense atmosphere between you and Daryl.
"He thinks he's slick," you tell Daryl, trying to break the tension. "He brought you weed, booze, and a girl," you laugh.
"He's still an asshole," Daryl huffs, rolling his eyes. "Do ya want some water?" he asks as he gets up and heads towards the few bottles he has lined up by the head of his mattress.
You nod, watching him pick one for himself and one for you. When he returns, he sits across from you, where his brother once sat, his back leaning on the concrete wall. There's a moment of silence as you both sip from your individual water bottles.
"I guess you're going to have to forgive him now," you say, looking up at Daryl, wondering when you started taking Merle's side. "I think he's genuinely trying, and I think he's doing that for you." Daryl, more than anyone, understands being an outsider. After all, he was an outsider in high school with barely any friends. But Merle doesn't have the same patience, and you can imagine him giving up and leading to more destructive decisions.
Daryl doesn't say anything. He just looks at you, his eyes running over your face softly. He lets out a deep sigh like he's holding something close to his heart.
"What?" you question softly, feeling goosebumps rise across your arms. The affection in his eyes is real and warm.
"Nothin'," he whispers, looking down, his finger fiddling with the water bottle cap.
As the silence hangs, so does the tension. You decide to breach a topic you've been dying to discuss with him for a long time. You clear your throat and scoot closer to him.
"Why have you been running away from me?" you inquire, tilting your head to meet his gaze.
"I ain't running," he responds, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours, "I just need to think."
"Think about what... is this about what you saw, about Charles?" you draw nearer, resting your hand on his partially bent knees. "Listen, what you saw didn't mean anything. I have never looked at him as anything more than a dear friend, no matter how he feels about me."
Biting his nail, he looks up at you and whispers, "Maybe you should," his voice choking on his own words.
Your stomach drops to the ground as you lean back and ask, "What?"
"He's strong, and he can take care of ya. I came real close to gettin' ya killed... Charles would never have taken that vest," he utters in a hushed tone. It suddenly dawns on you, and you understand how he might perceive it: his failure to protect you had pushed you into the arms of the soldier.
"Oh my god, Daryl," you swear, and with newfound strength, you move closer. "Is this about the vest? I begged you to take it. How were you supposed to know?"
"You took a bullet because of me," he confesses, huffing and averting his gaze. "I was aware of the danger, but I didn't use my head. I couldn't keep ya safe like I was supposed to." He believes that you got shot because of him, and that Charles had kept you safe for so long, even during the peak of the pandemic.
"It was my plan, Daryl. I knew what I was doing when I gave you that vest. You were on the front line-" he cuts you off.
"Your heart stopped... Hershel was beatin' on your chest... ya face... for a moment, you really died," you notice the anguish etched on his face and how deeply this thought had eaten him. "All I could think 'bout was how I might've lost ya, and it would've been my fault. I did that to you," he clings tightly to his body, and you reach out for his hand that was white-knuckled and fisted.
"Hey," you interject, slipping between his open thighs. You long to confide in him about how your heart stops every time he enters a room, but might not be the best time. "That's not on you. You didn't pull the trigger. It was the Governor and his men."
"It don't make no difference. I was there, and I put on the vest," he asserts with conviction, his anguish palpable in his voice.
"Daryl, look around you. All those walkers are somebody's loved ones," you pause to let your words sink in. "No one is going to be able to protect me from that forever. We'll all eventually die. But while I'm here and alive… this is exactly where I want to be." You swallow back the last sentence you want to utter. I want to be with you…
He regards you with a pained expression. "Charles... could," his words are hesitant as they leave his mouth. "He kept you safe this whole time." You're aware that Jamie has been prattling on about Iraq and the herd that overran the military base.
"I don't think you understand, Daryl," you let out a sigh, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. His hair is longer than you've ever seen it, and you use your hand on his cheek to brush the few strands away from his eyes.
As you gaze upon the face you know so intimately, tears start to well up. Daryl has reflected on his decision long and hard, and you're aware that you'll have to take the plunge off this cliff, perhaps alone. Nonetheless, you need to make your position clear in order to move on and leave him behind.
You begin to speak, your gaze firmly fixed on his. "The day I got engaged to Frank," you say, "I said 'yes' with a smile, but my body was trembling. Although he was a good man, all I could think about at that moment was how wrong the ring felt on my finger. It was large and flashy, the kind you would never have picked for me." You recall how Frank proposed at the breakfast table, telling you sweetly how he wanted to wake up to the sight of you for the rest of his life.
"After he left for work, I got into my car and drove aimlessly. I don't know how, but I ended up in the woods." You recall finding yourself in upstate New York, surrounded by tall trees that seemed to touch the sky.
"Muddy and stumbling in my scrubs, all I could think about was how you were going to come through those trees any moment with your stupid crossbow, calling me goofy and scolding me about how inappropriately dressed I was for the woods." Your lips tremble as you take a deep breath. "I waited and screamed until my throat was raw, but the cruel reality set in, and it was then it truly hit home that I was never going to see you again." Tears finally start to trickle down your cheeks as you remember the sinking feeling of knowing you would belong to someone else and say 'I do' for the rest of your life.
Daryl's intense gaze brings you back to the present moment. As he wipes away your tears with his finger, you reach up to hold his hand against your cheek. "You are my first love, and I held onto that love, the vision of you for what felt like my whole life. You were the sun, shining through all the darkness around you, and I was the moon, always rotating and chasing after you, but never in the same place."
You were always so close, yet so far away.
"A month later, I signed up for my first rotation with MSF and just ran," you say, recalling the confused look on Frank's face as he held your paperwork for Doctors Without Borders in one hand and wedding venue brochures in the other. "And then, it was the end of the world. I could have died alone on the other side of the world, stranded in the middle of the desert where no one truly knew me." You didn't have high hopes when you made that distress call; it was just a shot in the dark.
"The universe somehow found a way and brought me here, gave you back to me," you say, your voice trembling with emotion. Fate had heard you that day and brought you back together. "That day when I screamed for you, the stars aligned. Now, all I want to do is fight by your side, survive by your side, and when the time comes, die by your side too." You weep, your vision blurry, as you hold on tighter to his shaky hand.
As he pulls you close to his chest, you feel yourself falling both literally and figuratively. Your body shakes as you cling to him, his fingers buried in your hair. How lucky you are to have this moment with him, to see him and hold him one more time, to smell his familiar scent that you know so well. Even if he chose to end your story here, you know that you've been given more than what most can say.
He pulls your face up to meet his, and you find yourself locked between his legs. His eyes are also wet with tears as he runs his calloused fingers across your cheeks.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks, and you can't help but chuckle through your tears. It takes you back to the first time you kissed him - the rain was pouring and you both sought shelter under the awning of a Chinese restaurant.
"You never have to ask," you whisper, feeling your heart full of anticipation.
"I do," he replies softly. "Because I ain't just askin' to kiss you."
"What are you asking for, then?" you question, already leaning in to meet his lips halfway.
He pauses, meeting your gaze, and you can see the determination in his eyes, as he leaps off that metaphorical cliff, too. "We can survive this, you and me. We can," he says with conviction, and your heart pounds. "I'll do better at keepin' ya safe, I promise. And we can go back to where we left off, but this time I'm askin' for forever. I can't do it if it ain't forever. I can't go through that kinda pain again."
You can't keep the smile from spreading across your face, and your heart feels overjoyed. "Yes, I'm yours. I have always been yours," you declare, pulling his hands from your cheeks to your lips and kissing his knuckles. "Yes, this time, let's do it until death do us apart," you exclaim, your tears renewed, laughing as if the overwhelming pain you've carried for the last fifteen years has lifted off your shoulders.
As his words wash over you, all the years of yearning fade away into insignificance. Without hesitation, you press your lips to his, eagerly running your fingers through his hair and across his cheeks. The intensity of your emotions threatens to overwhelm you, but you revel in it nonetheless, every fiber of your being tingling with anticipation.
His kiss is deep and open, causing you to moan with pleasure as your fingers feverishly work at the buttons on his chest. Pulling back for a moment, you look in his eyes, and you can see the hunger, the deep starvation reflecting back. That was all the permission you need before diving back in. Your lips are soft, wet, and full, and your breaths come in heavy gasps as you give yourself over to the moment.
Reminding yourself that this is real, you surrender to the heat of the passion as he lifts you up onto his leg. Your fingers eagerly roam over his chest, pulling at his vest and shirt as he tries to stand, momentarily stumbling. Your legs wrap around his narrow hips as you deepen the kiss even further, his teeth nipping at your lower lip.
As you make your way to the unyielding mattress, he stands before you, shedding his shirt and vest. As soon as you lay down, he pulls away, quickly undoing the tie around his ankles. Not to be outdone, you hastily remove your jacket, shirt, and bra, causing him to pause and look up at you. You both chuckle as you deftly remove your pants.
Once he tosses his shoes aside, his lips find yours once again. He eagerly helps you remove your tight pants, forcefully tugging them off your ankles. His hands roam your hips, exploring deliberately and causing goosebumps to rise. You reach for his belt, determined to take it off, and work at it until it's loose. Without hesitation, you part the fabric of his slacks and touch him, skin to skin, causing him to hiss in pleasure. Your grip moves up and down on his already hard cock, and he grits his teeth and closes his eyes, his fingers digging into the blanket.
Daryl's masculine groans fill the air as your kiss makes its way down to his neck, your tongue flicking all the way up to his earlobes. He pulls away to kick his pants off, his gaze fixed on your black panties as he greedily tugs them off, his hand exploring every inch of your exposed flesh. Before long, you are completely naked in front of him, and he pauses to admire you, as if you're a divine sight to behold. You observe him too, his hard and chiseled body just as how you remember it. As he spreads your legs apart, he places a wet kiss on your thighs, his lips trailing down your inner legs.
Your chest heaves with anticipation as you watch him under the soft glow of the lamp light, until he finally reaches your core. He groans deeply in his chest as he dives in, his tongue delving deep within you. You moan loudly, your head thrown back in ecstasy, forgetting just how good he was at this. Daryl had no qualms about what he put in his mouth, and you always loved every moment of it. Your toes curl, and your head is thrown back in pleasure.
"Daryl," you gasp, your back arching off the ground. You are so wet, you can feel the moisture running down your ass cheeks. This isn't how you want to climax. There's plenty of time for that later. What you desperately need right now is for him to be inside you. Blindly grabbing onto his hair with a fistful of locks, you pull him towards you. "I need you inside me, Daryl," you breathlessly plead. You know he's heard you as his lips find your throat, sucking and biting in a vicious, unthinking way. You press together, his hips rubbing against yours between your thighs, so close, yet not close enough… not nearly enough.
Your body writhes against his, as his cock rubs against your wet pussy, your desire for him growing with each passing moment. "Daryl, please," you beg, pulling his face close and pausing until he meets your gaze. He looks down at you, taking in your flushed face and swollen lips. His eyes are filled with a sense of awe, as though he can't believe that he's finally touching you. He runs his hands over your body, taking in every curve and dip with reverence.
"I've waited fifteen years for this. I can't wait a second longer," you say impatiently, your breaths coming in short gasps. "Please, I want you to fuck me." Daryl growls in response and kisses you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours as he thrusts into you in one smooth motion. Your moans blend together, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure as the feel of his cock stretch you, so hard and hot.
As you move together in perfect unison, the world around you fades away. You pant into his hair, moaning with pleasure, fingers running down his back, nails scrapping, scars you mapped so well under you digits, and occasionally nipping at his ear. "I've missed you so much," you whisper between gasps, desperate to hold onto this moment forever. "God, I've missed you so fucking much."
You had almost forgotten how intoxicating it feels to be wrapped up in his embrace, his hands exploring every inch of your body with an innate familiarity. But now, as you grind against him with sinuous movements, all the tension and heartache between you both is released in an explosive outpouring of desire.
Daryl groans at the sensation of your body against his, and you can feel his cock deep inside, moans and wet slap noise reverberating around his small space. You move with a lithe rhythm, and his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, while his hands explore the skin over your ribcage, keeping you firmly on the mattress, as he fucks into you hard, his grip firm.
It doesn't take long to build into it, it's been far too long for both of you. The pace quickens into something reckless, and your body bounce against his with barely a beat between thrusts. Soon, his fingers are tugging relentlessly at your hair, his arm bracing against the wall above your head. His teeth move up to latch onto your neck as your thighs clench around him. you lean back against his arm, eyes closed in ecstasy, moving with abandon.
Your thighs clench around him as something inside you tightens, and your pussy wall clinch around his cock, and you feel his hot breath against your ear as he growls, "Sweetheart, I'm so close." The sound of his voice does something to you, making your own voice tremble as you reply, "Me too."
As you both crest the wave of pleasure, you gasp, "I want you to cum inside me." The sensation is explosive as the pleasure hits, your eyes rolled back, and you lose yourself utterly in the feeling. His name falls from your lips in broken prayer, your nails digging into his skin as the bliss crashed down upon you, mere seconds apart. He collapsed on you in a heap of tangled limbs, and you hold him tight, feeling complete. It was as if the missing piece of you that had been floating in space, outside of your gravity, had finally made it back home.
Your breathing is ragged, and your skin is slick with sweat. You tell yourself not to fall asleep, but the aftermath of your lovemaking leaves you feeling intensely spent and exhausted, gasping for breath. Daryl nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, and you adjust your arms around him, holding him close.
Like a blanket of snow, it gently falls over you, a feeling of overwhelming trepidation consumes every inch of your being. You wonder if this is all just a dream and if you'll wake up alone, with nothing but the cold embrace of an empty bed to keep you company like in the past. The fear within you coils tightly around your heart, squeezing the life out of you.
You trace the contours of his face with your fingers, taking in every inch of him with your eyes. It's hard to believe that he's really here with you after all these years, like a miracle that you're not sure you deserve. Despite the overwhelming sense of joy, you can't shake the feeling that it's all a cruel joke.
"I love you," he whispers, his voice hoarse and barely audible. His words chase away the dark thoughts like the sunshine that he is.
"I love you more," you reply, a soft laugh escaping your lips. It's really happening, isn't it?
You move your fingers into his hair and revel in the feeling of his warm breath against your skin. The weight of his body pressing down on yours fills you with contentment.
Maybe, you can close your eyes just for a moment.