Work Text:
When Andrew Cody first asked you on a date, you had been hesitant to accept. Because, well, he was a Cody. And everyone who lived in Oceanside knew what that meant. Blood money, guns, and danger. Pope especially was known as a loose cannon. But you had ultimately accepted, and the small smile that graced his face was enough to tell you that maybe you could take a chance on him. So you did. He picked you up at your apartment, hands nervously wringing together and eyes wide and unsure, helping you into his truck and looking at you with disbelief, like he wasn’t actually sure you were real. It was the same look that he donned when you eloped a few years later, looking at you with adoration from the other end of the small altar (it was really a pop-up table in the middle of a park, but it served its purpose).
And, truly, you couldn’t believe he was real either. Andrew was such a provider. You knew what he did for work, and you had your objections at first, but after you got married, he scaled back. He only did jobs that he wanted to do, planned by his brothers, and never involving his mother. You didn’t see them much, only occasionally when Deran and Craig decided to come visit. Smurf decided to cut her losses after Andrew had made a stand against her, very clearly choosing you and your new life together over whatever nightmare of manipulation she curated. You were so proud of Andrew for taking control of his life. He had bought a property in the country after learning you were pregnant, citing the need for your kid to be able to explore nature and run as much as they wanted. He was such a good father, staying home while you worked your job, and providing for his family in every way imaginable. Groceries? Covered. Bad day at work? Bath and herbal tea ready. Gas? Your car was always full. Hell, your son, even though he was only a year old, was already on the waitlist for the most prestigious pre-school in the area. Over the years, Andrew had built a life for himself outside of simply being his family’s attack dog. He hadn’t softened, per se, but he allowed himself to relax. At least a little.
You looked out the window of your kitchen with fondness. Andrew was sitting on a blanket in your yard, holding your son in his lap and bouncing him absent-mindedly. A bird flew past and he leaned down to his eye level, pointing it out. Your son giggled and your smile widened further, if that was even possible. You grabbed the soda you had come in for and quickly walked back outside. It was nearing the end of summer, and while the sun still warmed your skin, you could feel the chill of the approaching night starting to nip at your neck. You pulled your sweater tighter around your torso as you handed Andrew the can and settled down next to him.
“Thanks,” he popped open the tab and took a sip before setting it down carefully in the grass. The blanket faced the mountains and you watched as the sun painted them a warm golden-pink color. You rested your head on Andrew’s shoulder and sighed. “Rough day?” He hummed, leaning his head against yours. Your son crawled out of Andrew’s lap and picked fist-fulls of grass from the lawn. You both watched him with soft smiles.
“Yea,” you confirmed “That one client is being really difficult. And of course, because I’m in a senior position, I have to figure out a way to make him accept the offer.” Andrew’s fingers intertwined with yours and brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your hand.
“He’s an asshole.”
“Andrew.” You gestured to your son, who was trying to grab a stick off the ground. Andrew huffed with amusement.
“He doesn’t understand what I’m saying.”
“I don’t want his first word to be a swear.” You murmured and your husband pressed a kiss to your temple.
“M’sorry, you’re right.” A pause and a smirk. “It’s gonna be ‘dada’.” You rolled your eyes. You had had this conversation multiple times.
“You wish,” You scoffed “He’s mama’s boy, aren’t you?” Your son turned to look at you with a giggle and crawled into your lap. You wrapped him in your arms and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He was only a year old, but he already looked so much like Andrew. His hair was auburn and starting to curl against his neck. You were hesitant to take him for his first haircut, it was growing out so beautifully. Freckles spattered across his nose and his big, brown eyes looked up at you with the same expression as his father: like you had hung the moon and stars in the sky.
“I thought I was your boy,” Andrew pouted, nuzzling into your cheek. You turned and bumped your nose against your husband’s.
“You are,” You confirmed softly. “Always.”
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The past year had been rough. After returning to work after maternity leave, you were plunged into new projects. You had thought your coworkers were being polite when they said they couldn’t function without you, but apparently they had been telling the truth. Somehow, in the span of twelve short weeks, your company had managed to piss off the owner of the biggest account. And when you came back, your boss had come in and practically begged on her hands and knees for you to help reign him back in. It was all you could think about for the past seven months. He was unmoving, stubborn, ‘old-school’. Most of your waking hours were spent concocting ways to perform damage control. Including the time in your bedroom, when you were supposed to be blissed-out at the hands of your husband.
Andrew had been between your thighs for forty-three minutes. You had checked the clock on your nightstand. Forty-three minutes of your husband’s tongue pistoning in and out of your core, swiping along your folds and suckling on your clit, rutting himself against the mattress to provide relief to his strained erection. Usually, you would have been gone by now. Multiple times. And yet, not a lick of an orgasm curled in your abdomen. It didn’t feel bad, but the stimulation wasn’t catching and your arousal simmered instead of its usual burning intensity. You were too in your head, thinking about deadlines and marketing strategies and your son’s doctor’s appointment next week. Life weighed heavy on your mind and left no room for pleasure. You had told Andrew after twenty minutes that it probably wasn’t going to happen, but he had insisted that he knew you could do it. You appreciated his dedication. In all the years you had been together, he never allowed himself to cum unless you had first. But you could tell he was getting tired. He paused every so often to stretch his jaw, using his fingers to stimulate you instead. And his cock looked painfully hard, stretching the fabric of his boxers so much that you could see the veins. He wouldn’t give up without a fight and, honestly, you just wanted him to cum so you could cuddle up next to him and get some sleep. It was already past eleven. So, you did the only thing that made sense at the moment. You decided to fake an orgasm. Not for the first time in your life, but definitely the first time with Andrew. After a particularly harsh suck to your clit, your hand tangled in his hair. You pressed your thighs a bit tighter around his face. Andrew’s eyes flicked open to look up at you, excitement and accomplishment flashing in the hazel circles. He had finally been able to get you to climb up the peak. He knew you could do it. He focused, swirling his tongue in the same way that had ignited you, keeping eye contact. You knew you wouldn’t be able to fake it if he was looking at you like that so you turned your head to the side and screwed your eyes shut. And, to his credit, it felt wonderful. Just not enough to actually banish the stress from your mind.
“Fuck, Andrew,” You gasped, bucking up into his face like you normally did. “I’m gonna…” You weren’t. But you clenched your thighs tight and forced your lower body to convulse, clenching your walls around his fingers and letting out a shaky breath and a small moan. Andrew let out a whine as you rode his mouth, hips sputtering against the mattress as he came in his boxers. You watched the wet patch grow and it shot a bit more arousal down your spine. It wasn’t a total loss. You forced yourself to breathe heavily and wiped your forehead with a palm. Andrew pulled back from you hesitantly. You met his gaze and found a subtle confusion crinkling his brow. He licked his lips and clenched his jaw, like he was trying to figure something out. You thought you gave a good performance. His lips parted like he was going to ask something, but you pulled him into a kiss before he had the chance to. You kissed him with as much passion as you could muster, but it only made his brows furrow deeper. Okay, maybe you weren’t usually that greedy immediately after a mind-shattering orgasm, but you felt a little guilty about the ordeal and wanted to show him some appreciation. Andrew pulled away after a while and muttered something about getting cleaned up. He disappeared into the bathroom with his pajama pants. You saw him staring into the mirror for a few moments, blinking hard and clenching and unclenching his fists. His lips twitched with silent words. You called out to him softly, which broke his trance. He gave you a small smile and closed the door. You heard the shower turn on. You thought you’d gotten away with it. But you truly underestimated how obsessed with you your husband was, enough to have memorized and catalogued every single noise you made when you squirmed beneath him. Those moans weren’t real, and Andrew knew it.
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Andrew sat on a bench in front of the seal habitat. The stroller rested beside him, cover pulled over as his son dozed through the afternoon. Andrew took him to the local aquarium every Thursday. He had a season pass. It was their bonding time out of the house. Andrew was always surprised by the amount of noise your son could sleep through, but he still chose the quietest spot he could find to make sure Little Man actually got his naps in. That spot was beneath an overhang overlooking the harbor seal pool. Andrew watched the sausage-shaped mammals glide back and forth through the water. He liked them. You sometimes joined them on their aquarium adventures and you always said the seals reminded you of Andrew. Apparently they had the same ‘big, wet eyes,’ whatever that meant. He was glad that it was nap time, because he had a lot to think about. He leaned forward on his knees and pressed his thumb into his palm, rubbing in little circles, as he let his eyes glaze over.
It had been three days since The Incident, but it was still all he could think about. Those manufactured moans. The spasms you pretended were an orgasm, but your walls didn’t flutter around his fingers like they usually did. He was hurt, actually, that you thought he hadn’t noticed. How could he not notice the difference when the feeling of you coming undone around him was his favorite sensation in the world? When he had made it his life’s mission to melt you with his tongue? His wife faked an orgasm. For him. You had told him gently that you weren’t feeling it, but he had been so confident in his abilities that he promised you. And he had failed. The thought made his stomach tumble and he pressed his lips together because he genuinely thought he was going to be sick. What was worse- he actually came. He experienced release and you didn’t. His selfish act made his skin crawl. He should’ve just held back, gone to bed with you after you told him it wasn’t going to happen. But no. His stupid ego got in the way. An ego that was, apparently, unfounded.
It didn’t make sense to him. You had never faked an orgasm before. He knew that was a fact. So what was different? Andrew ran over the events of the past months in his mind. The only big change was that you had started the new account project. He knew you were stressed, he had tried his very best to help you unwind. You were staying later, getting called in on weekends. And to be fair, you never seemed thrilled to take time out of your domestic bliss with Andrew and your son. But recently, there had been a slight shift. When your phone rang, you didn’t grumble as much. You actually looked excited to go into work. You had mentioned that you got a new team member who was really helping you with ideas. Some guy from Harvard business. He began to connect the dots. Andrew’s stomach sank and the color drained from his face. Had you found someone else? Was Mr. Harvard the reason you were a touch happier in the mornings and worked longer days? Because you were about to see him at work and spend time with him? Did you…love him? Andrew’s hand began to hurt with the force he pressed his thumb into his palm. He always knew this day would happen eventually. That you would realize you could do so much better than some broken man whose resume was written in blood. Andrew had allowed himself to think that, maybe, after your son was born, that meant he was yours forever. That you actually wanted him around. Sure, you said it all the time, but he thought you had meant it. How could he be so stupid? The beratements spilled from his mind, echoing the words of Smurf and everyone else who had mocked him throughout his life.
The only saving grace from his spiraling thoughts was a small babbling sound from the stroller. Andrew’s eyes snapped to it. Your son had woken up. Andrew took a deep breath and pressed his eyes together, willing away any remnants of his mental drowning. He put on a smile as he pulled back the cover. He was met with the groggy, chubby face of the best thing that ever happened to him. Second best, actually, behind you.
“Hey there, little man.” He whispered, picking him up from the stroller and placing his feet on his thighs. The baby grinned widely and Andrew’s heart clenched. He had your smile. The way his cheeks pulled up and his eyes crinkled slightly at the edges was the same expression you bore when Andrew did something unintentionally hilarious. You used to wear it all the time, but he realized at that moment it had been a few weeks since he got a smile that wasn’t exhausted. Andrew swallowed and pulled his son tight against his chest, like if he let go the universe would take him away, too. After a few moments, the baby started to fuss. It was time to go. Andrew packed up the stroller and wheeled it out of the aquarium. After your son was all secured in his car seat, Andrew got into the car and sat there for a moment. He looked out at the parking lot and saw two ducks walking together. He began to cry.
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You hummed as you worked around the kitchen. The heavenly aroma of apple cobbler filled the air. It was your first night off in a while, and you were enjoying the rare family dinner time. Jeremy, the new hire to your team, was an excellent problem solver and exactly what the project needed. He brought a fresh perspective and the client actually listened to him, which was a nice change of pace from his usual outbursts. You had thrown yourself into your work to get all the loose ends tied up as quickly as possible. You were excited to have this additional project off your plate so you could spend more time at home with Andrew and your son.
Andrew had been tense for the past few days. Deran had called him, proposing a job. Something simple, just stealing a few cars from a dealership. And yet Andrew emanated stress like he was about to rob a Las Vegas casino. He never got you too involved with the plans, for your own safety, but something about this job seemed different. Andrew seemed different. He had approached you as he usually did, in the bathroom before bed, him scrubbing his face and you brushing your teeth. He had told you that Deran called him. That’s all he said- all he needed to. And the next morning, when he said he was going “shopping” (his term for conducting surveillance) you had responded as you normally did, leaning in to kiss him and telling him to be safe. But he shifted from you, your lips only catching his cheek. Odd, no doubt, but to be fair the baby monitor had squeaked to life at the same moment and Andrew had hurried to check on your son. You brushed it off as an awkward exchange and nothing more. But…what if it was something more? Planning a job was stressful, and Andrew enjoyed taking out his stress on you. Or, more specifically, he enjoyed getting out his pent-up energy by bending you over the counter and pounding into you while he stuck his tongue in your mouth. And he had pent-up energy. He carried it in his shoulders- a small hunch that told you he was overthinking details and running through possibilities in his mind. But the second part never came, even though you were extremely ready for it. In fact, you hadn’t had sex in weeks. The only action you’d gotten was when you had to fake that orgasm. And it annoyed you. The strings of sexual frustration were beginning to pull tight. You felt it in your stomach, the deep need to be close to your husband. You were tired of waiting. So, you decided to bake something. Andrew loved to see you in your domesticity, cooking for him, folding laundry, bouncing your son on your hip. It did something to him, reminded him that he could be normal. Beneath your clothes, you wore a black lacey bra and panty set. The set that Andrew had bought you for your anniversary. One of his favorites.
Andrew sat at the table, wiping the spaghetti sauce from your son’s chubby cheeks. You scooped a portion of cobbler into a bowl and placed a spoon in it. You walked around the counter, making a point of swaying your hips. Andrew noticed. You set the bowl down in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder, allowing it to slightly dip onto his chest. You pressed a kiss to his cheek. You could feel the increased warmth of his skin on your lips.
“Enjoy,” You hummed, nuzzling your cheek against his. “I’m going to put him to bed.” You lowered your voice. “I’ll be waiting for you.” A little heavy handed, sure, but you were tired of waiting for him to make the first move. It wasn’t long before you were laying on your bed, only in the lingerie piece, awaiting Andrew. When he walked in and saw you, his breath hitched slightly. He paused in the doorway, blinking hard and swallowing. His hand fiddled with the seam of his pant leg. Your head rested in your hand, allowing your breasts to spill out of your bra and your spine to curve in a way that showed off your ass. Andrew took a deep breath and held it, walking to the side of the bed and crawling beneath the covers. You watched his eyes slowly drag down your form, gaze lingering on the swell of your chest and the curve of your hips. He tentatively reached out to your face, fingers brushing the skin of your jaw. You closed the distance, capturing his lips in a deep kiss. Andrew let out a little moan, gripping your jaw and pressing his face into yours. Excitement bloomed in your chest. Finally. Your hand snaked around his neck, burying your fingers in his hair and scratching lightly against his scalp. Andrew’s hand drifted from your jaw down to your neck to your collarbone. Your heart fluttered against your sternum. His fingers were so close to brushing your nipple, to giving you any form of pleasurable stimulus.
Andrew pulled back abruptly, like he had just remembered something. His eyes flickered between yours, searching. He didn’t find his answer, only confusion, and his gaze hardened. He retracted his hand and pulled the covers over his bottom half, covering his erection.
“The cobbler was good,” he said, voice raspy but quiet. “I’ve…got an early day tomorrow.” He nodded, like he was convincing himself, and turned over and flicked the light off. The rejection punctured your chest cavity. Your legs went numb and embarrassment climbed up your spine and settled in your throat. Oh. Okay. You mumbled out a ‘goodnight,’ but you weren’t sure that Andrew even heard you. You pressed your face into the pillow and stared into the dark room. Fuck. Something was wrong.
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The door clicked open. It was the night of the car job, and you had been sitting on the couch, slipping in and out of sleep while you waited for Andrew to come home. You always did, just in case. In your mind, the day you went to bed and assumed he would come home safely would be the day that the unthinkable happened. You would gladly endure a bit of tiredness the next morning if it meant being able to fall asleep next to your (still alive) husband. The sound of the door immediately roused you from your dozing. You were on your feet the moment Andrew stepped through the door. He was wearing all black and a backwards baseball hat. The sight almost made you giggle. You crossed the room and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug.
“Hey,” was all he said, arms loosely draping over your lower back. Annoyed at his lack of enthusiasm, you pressed your body further into his.
“How did it go?” You murmured into his ear, pulling back and giving him a kiss on the forehead. Andrew shrugged. Your brow furrowed. He didn’t like to discuss the gory details, but you usually got more than that. He waited until you released him to slip past you and down the hallway. You followed him to the bathroom, not unlike a lost puppy. He looked at his hands under the light. His knuckles were bruised and there were small cuts on the back of his hands. “What happened?”
“Had to break a window,” He murmured in that monotone voice that you could never decipher. Andrew struggled to bend one of his fingers to grab the gauze from the medicine cabinet above the sink.
“Here,” You offered, reaching out for his hand. But he pulled it away from you. Okay. That was it. You set your jaw and crossed your arms over your chest. “What is wrong with you?” You bit out “You’ve been acting weird for the past, like, month and I’m getting tired of it.”
“That’s just my personality,” He huffed humorlessly. You met his gaze in the mirror. He wasn’t just looking at you, he was staring at you. Really, truly trying to bore into your mind and get a glance at your thoughts. There was a slight darkness to his gaze, so unlike the way he always looked at you, that it made tears prick at your eyes.
“I mean it,” your voice wavered slightly. “We haven’t…I feel so far away from you Andrew. Please, talk to me. D-Did I do something wrong? Is it something physical? Do you not…think I’m, like…pretty? Anymore? Or is it something I said?” Andrew sighed and pressed his eyes together, his hands gripping the side of the sink and lowering his head between his shoulders. You gave him a few moments, but he didn’t say anything. “Please,” you begged softly, “Please talk to me.”
“What’s his name?” His voice is so soft, like if he said it any louder he would shatter.
“Who’s name?”
“The man you’re leaving me for.” Andrew’s gaze lifted again and you saw the pain in his eyes. Raw and unfiltered. He braced for your response. You just blinked at him. “You found someone else, right? Someone…better? That’s why…” He swallowed, muscle under his eye twitching, looking down at his feet. His voice cracked when he spoke. “That’s why you faked it last time? Because I’m not as good as he is?” Your jaw dropped and your eyes widened.
“Wh-What?” You were truly dumbfounded. Never in your life would you have thought Andrew would be able to tell, let alone come to that conclusion. “No,” You reached out for him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Thankfully, he allowed you. You curled your other hand around his arm. “Andrew, I would never, ever do that to you. I love you so much. I’ll only ever love you.” You assured him, eyes wide and pleading. “And the faking it? It…it was a one-time thing.” You let out a small chuckle. “Honestly, I’m impressed you could tell. I was just so stressed and you were trying so hard. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“So you’re not leaving me?” Andrew’s eyes lightened a bit, but his mouth was still pressed together, as if he was debating whether or not to believe you.
“Never.” You confirmed, nuzzling your face against his shoulder and pressing a kiss against his shirt. “You’re stuck with me. Until death do us part. And even then, I’m going to haunt you.” You waved your ring finger at the mirror, your wedding ring catching the light. A faint smile twitched at Andrew’s lips. He turned and pulled you into a hug, pressing his lips to the crown of your head.
“I’m sorry I’ve been acting odd. I was just worried, I guess. I just…I still can’t believe that you chose me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’ll never have to find out.” You pressed a kiss to his lips. You had meant for it to be gentle, reassuring, but Andrew immediately deepened it, running his tongue along your bottom lip. His hands drifted down to your hips and tugged you closer to him, pressing his thigh between your legs. The kiss got sloppy fast and when Andrew pulled back, his lips were puffy and red. His eyes held a glint of amusement and the simmering arousal you had missed so deeply.
“I’m a little hurt, you know,” He muttered, running a thumb over your cheek “That you think that’d work on me. When I know what makes you tick.” You were about to protest that your performance wasn’t that bad, but you were quickly silenced by the feeling of him dragging you against his thigh, the ridge of his hard cock rubbing sweetly against your fast-dampening folds.
Suddenly, you were on the bed, fully naked, with Andrew kissing down your navel. Your skin was on fire, and you squirmed beneath him. You could feel every pulse of your heart throughout your body, but it culminated between your thighs. It was a hammering need and you kept murmuring ‘please’s while Andrew took his sweet time getting down to his prize. When you felt his mouth on yours, a firework of pleasure fizzled in your abdomen. His tongue was warm and wet and prodded at your opening. His nose bumped at your clit and his hands pulled you further against him. Your eyes fluttered open to the sight of him between your thighs, pupils blown, hair slightly sweaty, and bloody knuckles gripping onto the soft flesh of your thighs like if he let go you’d disappear. You moaned, high pitched and needy, at the scene. God he was so fucking hot. And he was all yours. Andrew lapped at your cunt like a man starved, and he was. Usually he liked to taste you every night, and the week-long drought had driven him to the edge of madness. A fact that made itself known in the way that he devoured you. Andrew’s lips suckled on your clit as he pushed his two middle fingers inside you to the knuckle. You gasped when you felt the cool metal of his wedding band slip between your walls. He curled his digits into you, immediately finding the spot that made your toes curl and your back arch into the bed. Andrew was relentless, lapping at your pussy and stroking your walls vigorously. It wasn’t long before you felt the tingling tightness of your orgasm building. It started with a catch deep in your core and built from there, spreading until it shook your legs and consumed your brain. Your eyes pressed together and your mouth fell open. It hit you hard. Your legs shot closed around Andrew’s face, practically drowning him in your cunt as you rode his face for every ounce of pleasure you could get from it. A moan tore from your throat as you hurtled over the edge, walls clamping on his fingers and breath coming out in short pants. Andrew rode it out, hips involuntarily humping against the mattress in time with the way you bucked against his face. When you came back down to earth, your vision was a little blurry and your legs were shaking. Quite possibly the most intense orgasm of your life. Andrew pulled away from you and you looked down at him, breathing still uneven. He sucked on his fingers and shook his head.
“Can’t believe you thought I couldn’t tell the difference,” He growled, crawling over you and pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was sloppy and consuming, the mixture of your saliva and juices running down both yours and Andrew’s chins. He slipped his arm behind your back and rolled you over on top of him. You pressed yourself up and planted your palms on his chest. When you sunk down on his cock, Andrew watched you take every inch. He rested his head against the pillows only when he had bottomed out. You gave an experimental roll of your hips and Andrew caught his bottom lip between his teeth. He watched, unblinking, as you found your rhythm. He looked up at you with wide eyes, gaze moving from your face to the way your breasts bounced as you rode him. You loved when he looked at you like that. Not appraising, but adoring. So caught up in the impossibility that you were actually allowing him to help you feel good. One of his hands settled loosely on your abdomen, fingers brushing the outside of your hip while his thumb stroked your clit. It was more to keep you steady than actually helping you glide along his length. His other thumb went to your mouth, pressing against your lips. You opened readily and sucked around his finger. He used the newly-wettened pad of his thumb to rub circles around your nipple. You gasped and dug your nails into his chest.
“Yea, you like that?” He breathed, pinching the hardened bud between his fingers. You moaned and nodded, picking up your pace. You slammed yourself down on his cock, letting out little gasps every time the head brushed against your cervix. Andrew just laid there in awe, rubbing against you and helping you build to your next orgasm. “Please cum for me,” He whined “Need to feel it. M’so close. Use me. Use me to get yourself off. That’s it.”
“Fuck, Andrew,” You praised, voice shaky. The edges of your brain were starting to blur again, but you wanted to make sure he heard your words. “Feels s’good. You take such good care of me.” Andrew bit down harder on his lip and began rutting up into you frantically. “I love you so much.”
“Cum with me,” he pleaded. And you did. Your body went limp as another orgasm crashed through you. Your pussy spasmed around his cock and you squeezed your walls around him, milking him for everything he had. Andrew spilled inside you only moments later, face up with ecstasy and small gasps puffing from his lips. You collapsed onto him, nuzzling your face into his neck. Andrew’s arms were around you instantly, pulling you impossibly close into his chest. You felt so full of him. His cum dribbled out of you and cooled on your thighs while the pressure of his hug soothed you. Your hearts beat rapidly against each other and you laid together until they both returned to their normal rhythms. Andrew pressed kisses to your forehead and petted your head. “I love you so much,” He whispered. You smiled against his chest and he felt it. “I mean it. You’re my everything. All I want to do is to take care of you. Always. If you’re not feeling it one night, just tell me. I don’t want you to think you have to perform for me. Okay?” You nodded. “Promise me.” You lifted your head and kissed him slowly, fingers finding the hair at the base of his neck.
“I promise.”