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sillyrabbit81 · 2 years ago

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I'm sorry? I hope it was a good cry!

I'm glad you enjoyed all those parts. They took ages to try and get right, so it means a lot that you noticed them and they worked for you. Hahaha, I rarely write Aika, so it was fun to include her for once.

I get that. I also don't think this was a second try at love, they onlly broke up a few weeks ago and I don't think either of them really were finished with the relationship and they hadn't done all they could to repair it. To me, the argument was like a speed bump.

Yeah, I liked the spin on the trope too so I was really excited when I got the prompt. I love tropes, but more than that, I love putting spins on tropes.

When I wrote it, I really wanted to make sure the argument was about something deep, something that would require commuunication, negotiation and maturity. And when I thought of this, I was like, yes!

Thank you. I always try to make my smut match the tone and feel of the rest of the story (if it isn't just PWP that is.) So I'm really glad you thought it worked with the story.

The ending... I wasn't sure about it, I just started writing and thats what happened. You'll have to thank my Beta readers for it, because I almost deleted the ending.

He is a keeper for sure. I really feel like he would give his all to a relationship and someone like that isn't easy to give up on.

Thanks again for reading and leaving such a beautiful comment. It really means the world to me. Sorry it takes me so long to reply sometimes. But trust me, I appreciate it very much ❤️

Heart Of The Matter

Summary: A few weeks after you and Sy break up, you show up on his doorstep determined to win him back.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 8k

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, couples fighting, smut, some angry sexual contact, slight praise kink, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation (male), vaginal fingering, p in v sex, some fluff at the end.

Authors Note: This took a lot longer to write than I had anticipated. I've had a rough week in my personal life and truely, the angst and the making up of this ended up being pretty therapeutic.

As always I need to thank my amazing mates and readers @amberangel112 and @henryobsessed and @nashibirne , your thoughtful and honest comments are always appreciated.

Edited by me, there will be errors

Thanks to the Anon who sent in this prompt, I hope you enjoy it.

Dividers by me.

Masterlist

Looking in the rear vision mirror, you rub your sweaty hands on your jeans before running them over your hair, checking that it’s still in place. It’s dark, you can barely see and the streetlights are not sufficient to check your makeup, but you try to look anyway. You’re also stalling.

“Fuck it.”

Steeling yourself, you draw on every last bit of courage you have and get out of your car. You close the door as quietly as you can manage, and wince as you lock the doors and the headlights flash.

You pull your v-neck down over your hips then stick your hand in your bra and reposition your tits. Your shake your head and ask yourself for the millionth time, What the fuck are you doing?

You should have worn something else, something a bit less provocative because you know he’s going to know exactly what you’re trying to do.

Drawing in a deep calming breath, you straighten your shoulders and walk to the door you haven’t knocked on in three weeks. You start confident, but with each step your will seems to wane and by the time you climb the few stairs to his porch, your knees are trembling and your hands are shaking.

The moment your foot hits the timbre decking the porch light comes on and you are momentarily blinded.

Fuck.

You had forgotten about the sensor light.

You’re frozen in place, unsure whether to keep going or run back to the car. As you agonise over your decision, a dog lets out a low growl and you gasp.

Shit.

“Shhh, Aika,” you take the remaining steps to the door and whisper, “It’s only me, girl.”

Her growl turns into a playful bark, and you can see in your mind's eye the way she’s probably sitting with her tail wagging enthusiastically.

“Aika! Hush,” you say a little louder, but she ignores you and barks again, then you can hear her scratch at the door.

Fuck.

You aren’t ready.

If Sy wasn’t already aware that there was someone on his porch, there is no doubt he knows now; there’s no way he didn’t hear Aika barking. Losing all courage you turn and run down the porch steps like a criminal fleeing the scene of a crime, pulling your keys from your bag, praying you don’t trip in the dark.

You don’t make it far when you hear your name.

Shit.

You close your eyes, grit your teeth, plaster a smile on your face and turn around.

Immediately you want to close your eyes again and you thank every God you have ever heard of that Sy was too far away to hear the whine that forced its unwelcomed way up your throat. Wearing only light blue jeans, they weren’t even done up, he fills the doorway with his bulk and stands like Adonis with his bare chest puffed out and his arms crossed.

You avert your eyes as you climb the steps again, concentrating on Aika. She’s sitting just like you thought she’d be, tail wagging and everything. She makes you smile, you had missed her, and as if your smile is a sign, she bolts through Sy’s legs. You giggle, as she stands at the top of the porch steps and you reach out to give her a pat.

“Aika,” Sy calls sternly.

For a second Aika seems torn, looking from you to Sy, then back to you. He grimaces then purses his lips to make a kissing noise and calls her back. Aika takes one more look at you before she runs back into the house between Sy’s legs.

Biting your lip you finally raise your eyes to look at him. The look he gives you makes your guts churn. He doesn’t appear pleased to see you, not one bit.

You feel like such an idiot.

You clear your throat to greet him, but he speaks first.

“Sugar,” he says in a husky voice, somehow managing to make your old pet name feel like an insult in his mouth, “What do you want?”

“I…” you flounder, licking your lips as you try to collect yourself, “I thought…”

You try to find the words to explain what you’re feeling, but the eyes that flatly stare back at you aren’t giving you any sign that he wants to hear anything you have to say. His tongue runs over his teeth and he sighs.

Jesus.

He couldn’t make his annoyance any plainer if he tried.

“I just…” you try again. God, this is hard. “Can I come in?”

You start to climb the steps, but he raises his eyebrows at you and you stop short. He keeps staring at you in a way that makes you feel like he’s looking into your soul, like Anubis weighing your heart after death, deciding whether or not to gobble you up.

He looks at you for so long, you think he is going to say no, then abruptly and without a word, he stands back from the doorway and sweeps his arm out in invitation.

Your throat tightens as you climb the stairs. You keep your eyes on the ground as you walk past him and try not to make a sound as your nose picks up the scent of his spicey soap. You catch a whiff of his woodsy beard oil; it was the same one you had given him for his birthday and then you smile. Maybe it isn’t hopeless after all.

He closes the door behind you and you stand awkwardly in the entryway, still unable to really look at him. His fingers briefly brush your skin as he lifts your bag off your shoulder and hangs it by the door. It was a familiar gesture, one he’d done a hundred times, but this time it made you gulp.

“Want a drink or anythin’?'' he asks. Even while annoyed he is polite, a good host. His mother would be proud.

“Maybe a glass of water,” you say, softly, raising your eyes to find him looking intently at you.

Sy’s tongue slides swiftly over his bottom lip before he pulls it into his mouth and gives you that hard stare again as if he’s trying to read a deeper meaning to your words.

“Water,” he repeats as he half smiles and you wonder what he finds amusing. He lifts his chin, using it to point to the couch. “Go on, I’ll bring it out.”

Aika is sitting on her blanket, her ears lift as you enter the room. As soon as you sit, she pads over, popping her head on your knee like she used to. You scratch behind her ear, grinning as you watch her tail swish and her hind leg tremble with pleasure.

“Miss you too girl,” you murmur softly.

Sy comes in with a glass of water and a beer, and he places the water on the coffee table. He looks at the sofa, then over at a single seater and you see his mind working, deciding if he should sit next to you or across the room. He snaps his fingers and points to the blanket and Aika pads away, giving Sy room to sit next to you and he opens his beer. Although you sigh with relief, the crack of the can seems abnormally loud in the awkward silence between you and your anxiety rises until you feel like your heart is going to burst from your chest.

“So,” you say, “how have you been?”

He looks at you a long time before he exhales roughly through his nose and shakes his head.

“Busy,” he says, waving an arm around the room and for the first time you notice the moving boxes.

“Right.”

It’s not that you forgot he is moving, it’s the reason you had the argument in the first place, but you were more focussed on other things.

“When are you leaving?”

“In a week,” he says.

“Not long then.”

“Nope,” Sy says, popping the ‘p’ as he says it. He moves his head side to side as if arguing with himself and his annoyance returns. “I can’t do this,” Sy puts his beer on the table, “Just cut the bullshit, Sugar and tell me what you want. Why are you here?”

“I… I don’t know,” you stammer, unable to hide your nervousness from him any longer.

“You don’t know,” he says each word slowly, drawing them out. His eyes run over your body and he leans in closer. “I think you know exactly why you’re here.”

“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

“What else,” he asks in a throaty tone that makes your mouth feel dry.

He drops his gaze to your low cut top and he bites his lip. He raises a finger and traces the edge of the fabric, his warm pad leaving your skin feeling scorched to the bone. You feel like you're barely breathing, but you can see how quickly your chest rises and falls beneath his touch.

“I don’t want us to not be on friendly terms.”

“You wanna be friends?” He shakes his head and smirks, his drawling voice is low and as slow as pouring honey as he continues, “You sure about that? Cause from where I’m sittin’ you look like you want somethin’ else.”

“I… I wanted to…”

Sy leans in so close to you, you can smell the beer on his breath. You draw your thighs together as your body thrums. Being so close to him like this is intoxicating and the worst thing is, he knows how he makes you feel; you’ve never been able to hide the effect he has on you when he unleashes the full extent of his potent sexuality. He puts his hand on your neck and his thumb caresses the shell of your ear before he tugs softly on your earlobe.

“You wanna hook up ‘fore I go? Have ourselves one last farewell fuck. Are you here for that?”

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it, if it wasn’t part of the plan to get him back. You had definitely dressed to get him thinking about it. But you also aren’t planning on it being the last time.

“I still love you, Sy,” you whisper because you can’t catch enough breath to say it any louder.

“Un-fuckin’-beliveable,” Sy says coarsly. He straightens, removes his hand and leans back into the corner of the couch. He’s no longer crowding you and you finally feel like you can breathe again. “It’s too late for that, Sugar.”

“I said I was sorry, Sy. I—”

“Sorry ain’t gonna fix what's happenin’ here, darlin’,” he interrupts with a thin mouth and a shrug, “I still gotta move, ain’t got no choice. You refused to come with me, so that’s it. This is as far as we go.”

“You didn’t even give me a choice. You just sprang it on me.”

“I told you it was a possibility when we started datin’. I told you how it works.”

“But you wanted an answer then and there. You didn’t care that I’d have to see if I could get another job first or find another apartment.”

“I told ya I’d take care of you. I don’t live on base, you could live with me. Take your time finding work if you wanted…” Sy rubs his palm over his head before running it over his face and beard. “Darlin’, I don’t wanna go over all this again. There’s no point.”

“But I…”

“I don’t hate ya, baby,” Sy says, giving you a heartbreakingly spiritless smile, “I wanted to but I can’t. So if that's what you needed to know, well now you know.” Sy stands and adds, “And if that's all, I gotta get to bed.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“Things haven’t changed. I’m still bein’ transferred and you’re still not willin’ to come with me so what's the—”

You stand, folding your arms angrily across your chest, and talk over him, “You’re not giving me a chance to explain.”

“To explain or to dig the knife in just that little bit further,” Sy’s jaw clenches as he turns away from you and he slams his mouth shut as though he has more to say and is biting back the words.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” your voice cracks and frustrated tears sting your eyes, “I never wanted to hurt you.”

The tone of your voice makes Sy turn back to you. His eyes are wide and his brows are pinched and raised.

“I don’t want us to be over,” you sniff, trying to get control of yourself, “I don’t want to lose you, but you’re asking me to give up everything I’ve worked for without even considering giving anything up yourself.”

Sy’s hands cover your cheeks and he wipes the tears from your eyes. “I tried to tell you, I gotta go where they say when they say it. I told you,” his voice lowers and he softens his expression as he rests his forehead against yours, “that I wasn’t the right man for you.”

“But you are, Sy,” you whisper, “You’re everything I could hope for.”

“But here we are. You’re cryin’ and my heart is breaking cause I can’t do a thing about it.”

“You’re worth crying for.”

You tentatively rest your hands on his waist. His skin is so warm and so firm that your hands itch too feel the texture of the rest of him. His hands press into your cheeks tilting your head until your noses rub against each other’s.

“I ain’t,” he insists softly.

Your mouths are so close that you breathe in his words and they burn your lungs like acid. How could he think that? How can he not see how much he is worth? And you realise in that moment he doesn’t think he’s worth it because you never showed him he was.

You didn’t choose him.

You wanted to, you still want to. There has to be a way around this. This can’t be the end.

His beard brushes your chin as your arms wrap around his back and letting out a sob, you close your eyes.

“Shh baby,” Sy soothes. His lips brush yours as lightly as a feather while he speaks, “Shh, It’s alright, it’ll be ok, you’ll be ok.”

His lips are stroking yours, not quite kissing you, but you can feel his silky flesh skimming over yours. He mumbles his reassurances as his hand moves to cradle your neck and his other presses against your back drawing you closer and though your bodies meet, he draws you closer still as if he wants to pull you inside himself, fusing you together until you can no longer be torn apart.

Then abruptly, he loosens his grip and lifts his head.

“You should go,” he says. He reaches behind his back and removes your arms.

“Why?” you ask, confused by his sudden change in attitude.

He picks up your drink and his beer and you follow him as he goes into the kitchen.

“Why?” you ask again.

“Cause it won’t change anythin’,” Sy says, emptying your glass and pouring out his beer into the sink.

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying desperately to hold back your tears, “It hurts Sy, it hurts so much.”

“I know, baby,” he says in a rough voice.

“Can’t we forget Sy? Can’t we forget and have one more night together?”

“It doesn’t have to be our last night, you could still come with me,” he turns to you and takes you in his arms again, “I still want you to.”

You feel stricken, sick to your stomach, “I–”

“Don’t say it again,” he interrupts, raising his fingertips to your lips, “I can’t hear it again.”

His fingers trail over your lower lip, dragging it down before he reaches your chin and lifts it until you’re looking at his heated blue eyes. His gaze is firmly locked on your mouth and his lips part as he breathing becomes laboured.

“One more night, you’re mine?”

You could drown in his voice, it is so deep and seductive. He seems to tower over you, making you feel vulnerable, but you aren’t scared of the feeling. You’re far too eager to care.

Desperate you nod, “However you want me Sy,”

He looks torn, reluctant but also hungry. He bites his lips and closes his eyes. His hands slide down your shoulders, his touch achingly gentle and though you’re too scared to breathe, in case he stops touching you, you raise yours to his chest, relishing the feel of his coarse curls beneath your fingers.

With a frustrated growl Sy reaches for your neck, his huge hand covers your throat as he backs you against the counter, his hips pressing against you.

His kiss is bruising, punishing as you crash against the counter with a thud, his hands are at your pants and he tears at your button and zip. With viscous impatience he drags your panties and jeans down your thighs. You kick off your sneakers, unwilling to stop kissing him even as his fingers claw into your hips. He lifts you to the counter and strips you of your remaining clothes.

His hand grips your jaw as he steps between your legs. His fingers dig almost painfully into your cheeks as he makes you look at him. Your eyes widen, as he spits on his hand and he opens you up, finding your heat instantly.

Your eyes slide close and you sigh with relief as he fills you with a finger. Your repose is brief though because he shakes the hand holding your jaw.

“Look at me,” he snarls, “Don’t close your eyes, you look at me.”

You nod as he slides in another finger, and he kisses you with his eyes open.

“This one is mine. You give me this one more time,” his voice lowers and a dangerous edge creeps in as he adds, “Cause the next time you do this, I ain’t gonna see it,” he kisses you and it's softer, but still not gentle, and he whispers, “It ain’t gonna be ‘cause of me.”

His eyes are glacial fury as he fucks you with his fingers. His look is a stark contrast to the heated reverence that you’re used to seeing. You raise your hand to his cheek, wanting to melt his gaze, wanting to see the warmth he used to have for you. With an aggravated growl, he jerks his head away from your touch.

You flinch, he’s never done that before. His eyes widen and he lets you go. His eyes travel down your body and he follows the path with his hand. Your body quivers, so caught up in the heat of the moment that you don’t care if he hurts you.

You almost want him to.

“Fuck,” he says through gritted teeth. He picks your shirt up and throws it at you. “I can’t, I’m too fuckin’ angry.”

“I don’t care,” you beg, “I’ll take you like this, I’ll take you angry, I’ll—”

“No,” he says, turning his back on you, “Get dressed.”

“You still want me.”

“No shit.”

“Then what's the problem?”

“This ain’t us, this isn’t what we were. This isn’t…” he shakes his head, his voice is low, emotive, “this isn’t how I love you.”

“Then just talk to me, figure this out with me, please?”

“Put your clothes on.”

Shame fills you. You’re pushing yourself on a man who may be attracted to you, but sure as hell doesn’t want to be with you. Your pride can only stand so much. You take a deep breath, it rattles through your tight throat, but you lift your chin. You tried, you don’t know what more you could do, so you dress as quickly as possible while your whole body trembles trying to hold in your frustration and misery. You can’t look at him as you pull your pants on, but you feel his gaze like you would feel the heat of a bonfire.

As soon as you slip your shoes on, you start to walk to the door, your pace quickening with each step until you’re practically jogging by the time you’re on the porch. Hot tears are running down your cheeks and you know it’s over.

Even as you’re running across his yard to your car, you’re pulling your keys from your bag. You hear the Sy’s front door bang shut and he calls your name, but you aren’t going back. You have too much pride.

Sy always teases you about being slow, how you’d lose your keys in your bag or how you take twice as long as him to be settled in the car, messing with the radio before putting your seatbelt on. Not this time though. You start to laugh through your tears as you put your car in drive and peel off just as Sy reaches the sidewalk.

You can see his figure in the rearview mirror, mostly in shadow, you can’t make out his features. But you can see his hands are on his head as he slows to a walk and he watches you drive away.

As empty headed as a zombie you crawl into bed a few hours later. You cried on the way home, cried in the shower, cried as you tried to watch a movie to get your mind off Sy, cried as you tried to read. Eventually, you had no more tears, no more energy to focus on negative thoughts and you made it into bed.

Just as your brain gets foggy and the swirling visions of dreams start to overtake you, the shrill of your phone hauls you from your slumber.

In the darkness you reach for the receiver by the bed and numbly mumble a greeting.

“Okay, talk.”

“Sy!” you cry in shock.

It takes you a few beats to make sense of his words. Your mind is suddenly clear, but for the life of you, you don’t know what to say.

When you had gone to his house, you had so many ideas of what to say, but the whole evening had not gone as you had planned. Now, you have no idea where to begin or if he even really wants to hear what you had to say.

But he’s calling you, reaching out to you, asking you to talk. Maybe he isn’t ready to let go either.

“I don’t think you moving means we have to end things,” you start.

There’s a pause, long and deathly quiet.

“Go on,” he says, finally.

“We could treat it like a deployment,” you continue, “We’ve done that before.”

“It’s different,” Sy says dismissively.

“I don’t see why,” you counter.

“‘Cause you can’t come with me when I’m deployed, there’s no choice. You chose not to come with me, that's the difference.”

“Not forever. I didn’t say that. Just for now.”

There’s another long pause before he speaks. “What are you saying?”

“I've only been at this job for twelve months, it's not enough time to really get the experience I need,” you explain, “If I stay for another year, I’ll be able to apply for more jobs. I should be able to get a job near you much easier and without starting from the bottom again.”

“A year?” Sy asks, drily. “A year?”

“Sy that's nothing in the scheme of things.”

“We had plans,” Sy states without any explanation, but you don’t need any. You know what plans he had; white picket fences, a yard, marriage, kids, the whole nine yards.

Here it is, the modern woman's question; what's more important, kids, or a career?

“We did,” you say, carefully, trying to keep your cool, but you feel a ball of frustration growing in your gut, “We also talked about solidifying my career before we went down that road.”

Sy chuckles bitterly, “I see. We’re back to this, we’re always back to this.”

You want what Sy wants, but not with the urgency he seems to want them. You’d be lying to yourself if this isn’t the real reason for your split. This is the crux of why the schism is so deep, of why he refuses to even listen to you when you say you aren’t going to drop everything and move with him.

“You know I…” you shake your head, “I never wanted to have kids, never wanted to get married. That was always what you wanted–-”

“With you,” Sy interrupts, “I wanted that with you… want that with you.”

“And I want that with you,” you say.

“So what’s the fucking problem, Sugar? Just come with me.”

“I want something for myself first, Sy!” The ball of frustration in your gut bursts. “I want to accomplish something for myself before I give it all up for you!”

“See that's the problem. It shouldn’t be for me or for you, it's for us,” Sy growls. “You never think of us. You only ever think in terms of you or me, never for us.”

“That's not true!”

“No?” Sy argues, “Name one thing that's ours, huh? After all these years, what's ours? We don’t even own a plant together for fuck’s sake. Be honest with yourself, you were never committed to this. We were convenient, easy until it wasn’t, cause you ain’t ever had to actually do anythin’.”

“What did you do Sy?”

“Fuckin’ everythin’,” he says, “I put you first with everythin’, you think it was easy for me?”

“Oh you mean you stopped screwing around? Jesus, Sy, you didn’t cheat on me, so that makes you a saint? That’s the bare fucking minimum!”

“You’re fuckin’ joking, right? I changed my career. I made plans, all my plans, around us,” Sy’s voice gets louder, louder than even the last time you fought. “I went Officer for you for fuck’s sake–”

“You went Officer for yourself,” you retort.

“I did it for us, for the money, so we didn’t have to go through this shit, worryin’ about you workin’.”

“Don’t lie to me, Sy. You did it for your ego!”

“Bullshit!” Sy bellowed.

You suck in a breath. He’s never yelled at you before. Ever.

His silence is eerie.

“Sugar, I… You’re wrong,” Sy says softly now, “You’re so wrong.”

You thought your tears were done, but your chin wobbles and your eyes sting. “I’m going to hang up.”

“Baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at ya.” Sy’s voice sounds hoarse, it’s so low you can barely make out the words.

You don’t say anything, you just hum, hoping he takes it as acceptance of his apology.

“I’ll quit,” he says quickly, desperately, “I’ll quit. I’ll do somethin’ else.”

“I can’t let you do that,” you say, trying and failing to keep your voice from wavering, “You’ll end up resenting me. Like I will end up resenting you if I go with you.”

“Why did ya have to come over?” Sy asks, his voice is muffled, so quiet it's like he’s on the other side of the world. Right now, he may as well be. “Why did ya… It don’t matter.”

You want to ask him what he was going to say, but he’s right. It doesn’t matter.

Sometimes… sometimes there’s no solution.

“It really isn’t going to work for us, is it, Sy?”

“Sugar… God damn. I want it to. So fuckin’ much.”

You sniff softly, wiping at your tears. You’re exhausted, so fucking tired, you can’t keep doing this.

“I’m going to go,” you mumble, your eyes closing as you lay back into the pillows.

“I don’t wanna hang up, Baby.”

You laugh, it's short and you smother it immediately with your hand. You can almost see what Sy’s face would be like in your mind's eye, how he’d draw his brows together and tilt his head, a half smile on his face as he asks…

“What’s got you tickled, Sugar?”

“I just remembered when we first started dating and you’d stay on the phone…” You’re still smiling, but your eyes water and you can’t finish.

Sy hums, you can hear his amusement in his tone. “Wanna stay on the phone until you fall asleep?”

You do. So much. But…

“Please?” you ask.

He hums again, this time it's not as strong, as if the noise got caught in his throat. You hear movement, Sy’s breath gets a little louder for a few minutes before falling into a soft slow rhythm. You think he must have gotten into bed but for some reason you can’t bring yourself to ask.

You fight sleep for as long as you can. You know you don’t last long because it seems like as soon as you close your eyes you open them again and the cordless phone is laying by your side and emitting a long steady obnoxious tone.

Sy’s gone.

You wake before your alarm goes off. You never do that on weekends. You try to roll over and go back to sleep. You just close your eyes when you hear the doorbell.

You think about ignoring it and pull the covers up over your head. Who on earth would be at your door at 6.30am on a Saturday?

No it couldn’t be.

You sit bolt upright and throw the covers back. You don’t even bother putting on a robe and you run to the door.

You pause with your hand on the doorknob and swallow hard. Pulling yourself together as best you can, you peek through the peephole.

Oh my God. It’s him.

With a yelp you throw the door open, your eyes wide as you see him standing there. Your mouth works trying to say something, but you can’t make the words form.

“A year,” he says, simply, “I can wait a year.”

“Sy…”

“Baby…”

Then his arms are around you, drawing you close, his mouth crushing yours so hard you’re sure they’re going to be tender tomorrow, but you don’t care.

Sy lifts his head, walking you back into your apartment, closing the door behind him with his foot. He holds you close while he raises a hand to smooth down your bed hair, his eyes searching your face, caressing your cheeks, your lips, your brows.

The more he touches you, the more his eyes seem to soften. Whatever intimacy, whatever connection had been lost is coming back. You lift your hand to his cheek, needing to touch him, needing to feel his warmth again. He covers your hand with his as he turns his head and breathes deeply, closing his shining, stormy blue eyes while he kisses your palm. He stays there his lips pressed against your skin, until he releases a long ragged breath.

“Love you so much,” he mumbles quietly, as if talking to himself, “I was such an ass thinking I could let you go.”

Happy tears well in your eyes, he wipes them away as quickly as they fall. “Me too, me too.”

“I want you,” he stresses, “I get so greedy and impatient cause I want all of you. But that's on me. It’s wrong of me.”

“I’ve made you wait a long time, Sy,” you say apologetically.

“You’re worth it. I don’t want any of that other stuff unless it's with you.”

Knowing you don’t have the words to tell him how you feel, you let your actions speak and pull on his shirt, bringing his mouth to yours. You kiss him softly, slowly, wanting to take your time rebuilding the connection. Although you’d been apart only a few weeks, there has been a shift and you need to ground yourself in each other again.

When you pull away, Sy takes your hand and leads you towards the couch, “I guess we ought to talk about how this is all gonna work.”

Of course Sy wants to work out the logistics immediately, but you have other things on your mind. You shake your head and smirk.

“Later,” you say, wrapping your arms around him and lifting your face to his.

His nose nudges playfully at yours and you giggle a little as you nudge him back. You close your eyes and press your lips against his. Sy hums, returning your kiss immediately, though he holds back. He lets you take the lead, lets you deepen the kiss when you’re ready, lets you take his hand and lead him to your bed.

Your heart thumps hard in your chest as you lay on your head on the pillows and you can’t stop your thighs from cinching together as Sy crawls up the bed, kicking his shoes off as he goes. He lays on top of you, leaning on his elbows and smirks.

“Are we making up, baby?” Sy asks in a roguishly husky voice.

“You wanna talk first?” you ask in reply, raising an eyebrow.

Sy slowly shakes his head, his eyes darkening as he grins wolfishly. You had planned to take it slow, to kiss, to reconnect, but deep seeded need takes over and in a rush of tangled and frantic hands, you tear at Sy’s pants while he tears at yours, as if you were racing each other.

Beating him to your goal you lick your palm before wrapping your fingers around his cock bringing it half erect out of his barely lowered jeans. His huge body shudders at your touch and he gives up trying to get into your pants as if he's lost all coordination. He drops his head into your neck with a ragged breath and wrapping his arms around you he rolls you both onto your side.

You close your eyes, feeling him pulse and grow while he puts a hand on your neck and lifts your chin. His breath is hot as he moves his mouth roughly over you, feasting almost viciously on the delicate skin under your jaw as he rocks his hips, fucking your hand.

“Baby,” he growls in your ear before he bites your neck. You gasp and he groans, “Fuck, you touch me so good. Get me so fuckin’ hard.”

“I love touching you,” you murmur, “Love feeling you get hard in my hand.”

He pulls your head down until your foreheads touch and you breathe each other's air. “Wanna fuck ya so bad,” Sy’s voice is thick and deep, “Wanna taste ya. Want all of you.”

Almost frustrated he lifts your hand off him and holds it above your head. Sy’s body presses against yours until you're on your back then he moves between your legs, his size making you spread your legs to accommodate him.

He moves to his knees, hurriedly undressing before he tugs at your shirt and then your pyjama pants, making you raise your legs high before they drop to the mattress again.

He pauses and looks you over, biting on his lip as he shakes his head slowly. You begin to tremble in anticipation, but your eyes are as busy as his, looking from his broad shoulders and perfectly furry chest, to his cock standing unashamedly tall against his stomach.

“Sy,” you whine softly, silently begging for him to touch you.

He raises his head, his eyes seem to be pleading too as his hand presses against your slit. You inhale sharply as his fingers slide easily over you. You're well and truly wet and ready for him and your core tightens, desperately milking at nothing.

“Please,” you purr weakly.

“You don’t gotta beg baby,” Sy assures you in a dulcet tone, “Just missed looking at ya, is all.” He leans over you, holding his weight on an outstretched arm. “Gonna miss lookin’ at you,” he adds with regret in his voice.

“It’s not going to be easy for me either,” you tell him solemnly.

The edges of Sy’s lips raise in a small smile. He lowers himself onto his elbow and strokes your hair.

“I know, Sugar. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“I’m sorry I’m not…” you shrug, not sure how to form the thought rolling around in your head, “that I’m not different… That I want—”

“Stop,” Sy interrupts sternly, “You wouldn’t be you if you were different. I wouldn’t love ya so much if you weren’t you.” He kisses your lips and murmurs, “I love your ambition,” he kisses your neck, “I love that you fight for what ya want,” he kisses the tops of your breasts, “I love that you don’t need me,” he kisses your belly, raising his eyes as he says, “and I love that you want me.”

You press your lips together as your throat seems to close up and your eyes sting.

“Sy…” you whisper because you don’t want to cry and ruin the moment. You reach down and run your hand over the velvety hair on his head, as he kisses your hip. “I do want you, so much.”

His eyes are heated as his finger slips inside you. You roll your hips on his fingers and his eyes narrow as he watches you move in a way that makes you feel like a Goddess, like he's never seen anything more enthralling.

“God baby,” he growls, “wanna fucking watch you do this forever.” And for a while he does.

Languidly, he pumps his fingers inside you, laying his head on your thigh he kisses your exposed core, his tongue lightly coaxing your clit from beneath its hood. It's lazy, teasing, seductive and sighing you lay back into the pillows, drowning in the gentle yet overwhelming sensations he brings you. Slowly he builds you to your peak, your thighs tremble as your muscles tighten and scream for release.

“Please Sy,” you beg and he hums in soft acknowledgement.

“Don’t wanna stop,” he murmurs.

You lift yourself to your elbows and look down at him. He’s laying on his side, languorously stroking his cock as he licks you. You watch him for a while, aware he’s watching you, your body heats, you're burning up and you teeter on the edge.

“Jesus, Sy,” you mumble, “I love watching you do that… make me crazy.”

“Best fuckin’ pussy,” he growls against you, “makes me so fuckin’ hard.”

He groans and lets go of himself, wrapping his arms around your thighs and buries his face deeper into you. Spiralling out of control your hips rock against him, trying to make him go faster, your desperation overtaking every thought and all you can think of is release.

“Sy I’m, I’m… Oh fuck…”

He hums, voice reverberates in his throat and you feel its vibrations on your clit. He reaches between his legs again, but he’s not jerking off, he’s squeezing the head of his rock hard cock, trying to stop himself from coming. God, he drives you wild.

You cry out as you lose control, your mind blank as you ride out the rolling waves of torrid ecstasy. You’re boneless, weak as Sy climbs over you, pushing inside you as your core is still contracting, the sudden fullness bringing another wave of hot pleasure.

You can barely wrap your arms around him, but you need to. You need to hold him, you need to feel him, his warm skin, his corded muscles, his strength, his desire, his love.

He seems to want to be close to you too, holding you tight beneath him, an arm under your lower back, the other around your shoulders. He moves slowly, barely rolling his hips, the motion a subtle and torturous rocking.

Part of you wants more, you want to feel him for days, but this, this is sublime and rare. It's the way he has you when he knows he’s leaving, when he wants it to last, when he wants you to know not just his lust, but also his love.

His mouth finds yours, his kiss is soft too, agonisingly teasing. He sucks on your bottom lip, his teeth applying gentle pressure and you arch into him, the torment of his tender touch becomes almost unbearable in its perfection.

Your caress matches his, light and easy until you can take it no more and your nails dig into his back as you clutch at him, wanting him closer though it’s impossible. You touch him everywhere you can reach, his sculpted shoulders and arms, the roughened skin of his sun tanned neck, the soft bristles of his hair.

As your fingers trace his brows, he lifts his head above yours, the intensity of his eyes takes your breath away as he kisses your hand. The look on his face changes, his eyelids get heavy and his jaw clenches as he drops his head into your neck.

You chase his mouth with yours, his breath is torrid, heavy and laced with quiet groans. His arm leaves your back and he strokes your hair, touching you with such sweet and tender care, your chest tightens and your heart aches.

His thumb wipes under your eye, you didn’t even realise you had started to cry.

“Don’t think about it, Sugar,” Sy murmurs as he moves to kiss your cheek, “Just think about here and now.”

“I almost lost you, I’m so… We’re okay aren’t we?” you whisper, because it doesn’t seem right to say it any louder.

“Hush. I’ve got you now and we’re good. I’m here. You’re here. Just be with me.”

He holds you close and rolls onto his back and sits up. Your mind spins, his strength always surprises you in the best way possible.

Sy’s looking up at you now, grinning wickedly he playfully jerks inside you. You giggle and squirm, but your breath catches he lifts his hips and slides in deeper.

“God, Sy,” you murmur, encircling his neck with your arms.

His hands move up and down your sides, he watches the path of his touch before they settle on your hips and he looks at you.

“Take me, baby,” he urges, his thumbs rubbing softly against your skin. “I’m all yours.”

You cup his cheeks, letting your fingers sink into his beard, as you rise slowly and dip.

“So good, baby,” he groans, sliding his hands around your ass, lifting you as you rise up, “So fuckin’ good.”

“I love you,” you whisper.

He exhales roughly and puts a hand to your nape and pulls your mouth to his, “I know,” he growls. “And I fuckin’ love you.”

His kiss is lingering, his touch careful, considerate and every caress restrained and deliberate. His hands move over your back in delicate sweeps and across your chest with subtle pressure as he cups the weight of your breasts gently. His mouth is soft and gentle against your tight buds.

You want more, but Sy keeps it slow, so taking matters into your own hands you lean back a bit, resting your hands on his thighs so he hits that spot deep within you. Immediately you feel hotter, your skin burning and your head lull’s back because all you can concentrate on is keeping yourself upright as you grind against him.

“Jesus, baby,” Sy groans, “Fuck me, look at you…”

You lift your heavy head and Sy’s eyes are waiting. Your heart skips a beat at his look, before pounding even harder in your chest. You’ve never felt more beautiful than at this moment.

Without breaking eye contact, he brings his thumb to his lips, giving it a quick swipe of his tongue. He groans, as he covers your clit, and you feel his touch surge up your spine like lightning.

Losing yourself in the fierceness of his stormy blue eyes you grind against him, climbing once again to your peak. Sweat breaks out across your forehead and chest but it doesn’t bother him as he leans forward licking and suckling at your breasts, muttering soft praises and encouragement.

“That’s it. That’s what I want,” he whispers, “Feelin’ so good.”

He supports your lower back with a large, powerful hand as you lose control as your thighs shake and your arms grow weak.

“Sy…”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he assures you, “Let go for me.”

His thumb moves faster and presses slightly harder to help you along. Despite how good it feels it almost throws you off-course. He knows you so well, knows exactly how to touch you to get you to fall over the edge and for a moment you’re right back in despair, thinking about how you almost lost him. It's not only that he knows what you like that makes him special, it's that he cares enough to find out, to file that information away, and to use it when you need it.

God, you love him for that; for putting you first in everything, not just when he makes love to you. That's what he’s doing, right now, loving you and putting you first, like he always has.

Your heart feels like it's going to burst as you sob out his name and the euphoric heat of your peak rolls through your body.

As your body cools and Sy clutches you to his chest, you keep asking yourself one question; How are you going to spend a year without him?

Sy is dripping with sweat as he brings in the moving boxes from your car with Aika padding along behind him, his white undershirt is damp and clinging temptingly to his body. Your heart starts to race but you remind yourself that finally, after twelve months apart, and seeing each other only a dozen times, this time there will be no goodbye. You can wait until tonight before you run your fingers through the thick curls on his chest and gently tease his nipple with a scrape of your teeth and a lick while he shivers and pretends not to like it.

“Last one. More books,” he grunts, breaking you from your daydream. He leans down to give you a quick peck as he walks past. “Gonna open a goddamn library.”

He’s smiling though. You don’t think anything could dampen his mood today. You are moving in together and in three months you’ll be married and three months after that…

“You okay?” he asks, brows a little furrowed. “Been a long day. Why don’t ya lay down and have an afternoon nap, huh? Unpackin’ can wait a while.”

“I’m not suddenly made of glass, Sy,” you say smiling, watching him place the last box on the ground and straightening.

He smirks and steps in closer to you, wrapping his humid arms around you. “I know. But you’ve been tired and nauseous and—”

“And I don’t feel tired or nauseous anymore.” You slide your hands under his shirt, feeling your way up his body with a grin.

“Oh really?”

You nod slowly, biting your lip and lazily swaying your hips against Sy. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and grabs your ass pulling you closer, rolling his hips in return.

“Woman,” he groans, “These pregnancy hormones are gonna be the death of me.”

You shrug and try to smother your grin as you say, “I can think of worse ways to go.”

Sy’s grin grows larger as he leans down to cover your mouth with his, “I can’t think of any better way to go.”

#comment reply #heart of the matter

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