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borathae · 2 years

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“Two weeks in paradise and your husband still finds ways to surprise you.”

Pairing: husband!Jungkook x wife!Reader

Genre: honeymoon!AU, Smut

Warnings: sub!Jungkook, gentle dom!Reader, mommy kink, surprise nudity, love making, nipple sucking, oral (f.receiving), fingering, it's the slow & tantric type of sex, Lotus position, closeness and being so in love, she also edges him cowgirl style, whiney!Kook, she has her hand around his throat at one point, unprotected sex but they are clean & on birth control

Wordcount: 8.1k

a/n: I just seriously adore love making. Also this type of domination just gets me so hard, it's so intimate and carries so much mutual respect omfg I want to scream. Enjoy hehe ❤

The sun set about an hour ago. You were witness to the event, sitting by the beach in utter silence with your husband by your side. It was a nice silence filled with the sound of waves dancing over the sandy beach and the songs of birds somewhere high in the trees.

There weren’t any other people on the beach with you. Just you and Jungkook, holding hands.

Well, truth be spoken, there weren't any other people on this island at all.

Jungkook purchased it just for this holiday with the excuse that you and him will have many more holidays here. You were just slightly mad at him for spending so much money on an island somewhere on the Indian Ocean, but Jungkook convinced you with his cutest bunny eyes to give it a chance and so you did.

That was two weeks ago, when you and him were sitting in a plane to Jungkook's island - correction, your shared island - three days after your wedding ceremony.

Jungkook was right. You love it here. The beaches are beautiful, the water is warm and your spacious bungalow is filled with everything you could dream of in such a paradise. Also the main coast was just a ten minute boat ride away, allowing you and Jungkook to try out the best restaurants in town whenever you wanted.

You bury your toes in the sand and scoff softly. There were times in your life when you physically and financially couldn’t think of fancy restaurants and luxurious bungalows on private islands and yet here you are. Visitor of said restaurants and owner of said bungalows. It feels like betrayal to your past self's morals and yet you can't be angry at yourself because being visitor of said restaurants and being owner of said bungalows means that you are Jeon Jungkook's wife. And that was truly - truly - the only treasure you needed in your life. All those riches were just a little bonus point, which came with the man.

You smile and turn to look at your bungalow. It was just a good hundred steps to your right, merged perfectly with the landscape and with a small wooden terrace overseeing the water.

Jungkook disappeared in it a good forty minutes ago, telling you that he was really tired and that he wanted to go to sleep. So you kissed him goodnight and wished him sweet dreams, before watching him strut along the beach in his colourful shorts and wavy shirt.

You didn’t join him because quite frankly you developed quite the liking for sitting at the beach and listening to the waves.

There wasn’t lots of artificial light on this island. Safe for the lights by your bungalow and the few lights by the dock, the island was kept as it was to give nature its well deserved sleep. The beach was dark at night, only the moon was your companion. You didn’t mind the darkness. Darkness never scared you and especially here it doesn’t scare you. This here is paradise and paradise can’t hurt you.

However right now, it can most definitely make you shiver in the breeze.

"Brr", you let out and rub your naked arms to warm them, "it's getting chilly, I think I’m gonna head inside."

Jungkook left the door unlocked for you and kept the lights burning in the entrance hall. You lock the door once inside, making sure to wipe off the sand on your feet before entering the rest of your home.

Your first destination is your kitchen for a bottle of water and a snack in the form of some crackers. You munch on them on your way to your next destination.

The bathroom, located at the east wing and with a view of the rich fauna behind the house. Right now, only darkness looks back at you as you let the water run down your body.

Once clean and wrapped in your fluffiest rope, you make your way to your living area for a late night movie. You are tiptoeing, careful not to wake your slumbering husband. You soon come to a stop however, when you notice red dots splattered all over the floor.

"Huh? Is that blood?"

You quicken your steps. The redness comes closer and closer. You stop.

“Oh okay, phew thank god. It’s just rose petals...wait. Why are there rose petals on the floor?”

They are scattered on the wood in a neatly placed line, as if someone had placed them here intentionally. You follow the line with your eyes first. It stretches along the hallway until taking a sharp turn to the right and disappearing from your sight.

"What the hell is going on?" you murmur, following the path all the way to your bedroom.

Faint light joins the petals in a slow flicker. It becomes stronger when you step through the threshold.

Candlelight coming from dozens and dozens of candles.

You lift your head.

"Oh my god", you gasp and break into laughter.

Jungkook is lounging on the bed on his side and with one leg propped up while his head is supported by his hand.

He is buttnaked, but holds a heart shaped praline box in front of his crotch.

"What is that? Oh my god Jungkook, what are you doing?" you laugh.

“‘ello me ‘ady”, he has a red rose between his teeth which makes talking difficult, giving you a seductive wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Baby, oh my god, please look at you”, you giggle, “you look so handsome”, you laugh, stumbling to the bed.

You get on it and sit down in front of Jungkook, helping him take out the rose.

"What are you doing?" you ask him in a cackle.

"I wanted to surprise you in a sexy way", he explains in a bright smile.

"I am definitely surprised", you chuckle, caressing his arm lovingly.

"Yeah? Is it sexy?"

"Most certainly. Sexy, but also really funny. You could fit into a funny movie or something."

He grins, "but it’s more sexy than funny is it?"

"Yes, it is", you say and cup his face to pull him into a kiss.

Jungkook sighs and kisses you back with eagerness. He tastes minty with the slight aftertaste of his cherry chapstick. You like that combination, nibbling on his lower lip for more of it.

“Thank you”, a kiss, “baby”, a kiss, “I love-”, a kiss, “-it.”

Jungkook smiles into the kiss, sighing softly when you end it by rubbing the tip of your nose against his own.

Jungkook mewls as you pull away more, fluttering his eyes open slowly.

"I thought you were tired”, you say, touching his chest. You can’t stop doing it. Touching Jungkook feels so nice, especially when he prepares such awesome surprises for you.

"No, that was just a scheme to prepare all of this. I was honestly a little paranoid doing it because I was scared you'd come in too early and see me crouching on the floor like an idiot and throwing rose petals all over the place."

You snicker.

"You didn’t do that naked, did you?"

"No", he cackles, "I took off my clothes when I heard you come in."

"I see", you say and feel up and down his torso, "damn Bunny, this is seriously such a nice surprise. I didn’t expect it at all."

"Yeah? Want to see everything?" he tempts, sneaking a glance down at the pralines.

You do too, rubbing your legs together in desperation. You really want to see more.

"Are those actual chocolates?" you ask him.

"Yup, they’re for you."

"Well thank you Bunny. But what are you hiding behind them? Is it something else I can snack on?" you crack yourself up with the joke.

Jungkook smiles fondly. You and your stupid mom jokes.

"Why don't you find out?" he rasps.

"Yeah? Can I?"

"Yes, you can."

You take a hold of the box of pralines and in one eager movement it is gone from his crotch, now sitting forgotten on the mattress.

“Pfff, no way”, you have to cackle again.

"Do you like it?" he asks in a boyish grin

He shaved for you, looking so sexy you feel your mouth water at the sight. But what made you laugh so heartwarmingly sweet wasn’t his effort of shaving but the red ribbon he tied around his dick and balls.

“You are literally full of surprises.”

“Right? Didn’t expect that, did you?” he says and wiggles his hips just slightly to move it around a bit.

You snort and cackle again, reaching for his hips to squeeze them.

“I totally didn’t. You’re so handsome."

“Yeah? So you like it?”

"Of course I do, you’re the sexiest man ever. Fuck baby, I’m so lucky”, you gush and push him down into the matress by his shoulders.

Jungkook falls in a soft moan, grasping your hips. Just a second later he is gasping, tensing his thighs upon feeling your naked core on his skin.

“Wait you’re naked too?” he gasps.

“Yeah?” you chuckle, “you think I’m gonna put my freshly cleaned ass into clothes after the shower?”

“I, I don’t know. I thought you’d wear panties at least.”

“I could go put some on…”

“No!” he exclaims loudly, pulling your hips back down.

You laugh and lean down to caress his face with both your hands, brushing his dark hair out of his forehead as you do.

“I thought so”, you rasp.

"Fuck my love, now I kinda wanna see", he confesses, oggling your clevage.

"I'm not one to stop you, Bunny."

Jungkook licks his lips hungrily and then tugs at the string of your rope. It falls open, gliding over his chest and exposing your own to his eyes. He lets them race over your breasts, licking his lips again. He looks so greedy for them.

“You just have to ask Bunny”, you coo.

“Can I-”, he clears his throat, locking eyes with you, “-can I suck on your nipples?”

“Yes you can.”

He opens his mouth and draws closer.

“Uh-nuh”, you stop him, forcing his head back into the mattress. It makes him moan oh so sweetly, “aren’t you forgetting something here?”

“Can I please suck on your nipples, Mommy?”

“There we go, now you’re being polite”, you praise, releasing his hair, “of course you can suck on my nipples, Bunny.”

Jungkook looks into your eyes, speaking his next words as clearly as possible.

“Thank you, Mommy.”

You smile and then shimmy up his body so your breasts would hover above his face.

“You’re welcome, my Bunny."

Jungkook eyes them, cheeks flushed and lips parted. He is waiting.

"Go on, get your treat", you order.

Jungkook obeys with a hungry moan, holding your breasts between his big hands and guiding one of your nipples to his lips. He closes them around you, sucking softly before becoming more eager. He is so gentle in his touch, showing you just how appreciative of your beauty he is.

"Mommy", he sighs, "you're so pretty."

He makes sure that your other nipple gets the same treatment. Oh, how warm he feels around you. How he makes you tingle.

You have your eyes closed, running your fingers through his soft hair and grinding your hips against his stomach slowly. There was no rush in those movements. They feel amazing and make you wet, but you have no intention of chasing them. The main act was Jungkook and his skilled mouth, the little grinding was just a very pleasurable side product.

He releases your nipple with a quiet slurp, kissing and nibbling on the softness of your breasts while his hands hold them safely. Truly this is heaven. Being so worshipped by him. Jungkook has a talent for worshipping and he proved it to you on many nights during your honeymoon. There was one sunny afternoon which you spent lounging on the beach while Jungkook kissed and caressed your back for a good hour. He woke you with the softest hand kisses each morning and tonight wasn’t the first time he is asking to suck your nipples. There was also the one time during movie night where he spent half of the movie lodged between your legs as he worshipped your pussy. Jungkook always says that he thought he couldn’t get any more obsessed with you, but that being your husband showed him that he can.

You won’t complain, because you are also quite inhumanly obsessed with him ever since he became your husband.

"I can't get enough of you", Jungkook sighs, moaning as he kisses your nipple, "you're so beautiful. Oh my love, why are you so addictive?"

"I'm addictive?" you ask in a fond chuckle.

"Yeah."

He looks so sweet when he looks at you like that. Big eyes all sparkly and happy, cheeks blushy and pink lips just slightly wet from his drool.

"You're so cute, Bunny", you say, caressing his cheek.

Jungkook leans in and kisses the inside of your hand. He returns to your breasts right away, eliciting a sigh from you.

"Yes Bunny, I love that."

It feels so divine to be appreciated by him. He is tracing your shoulders, including your upper spine whenever his fingers brush against it. Goosebumps are a constant side effect of that touch, once starting on your back but having covered your entire body by now. Jungkook is aware that he makes you shiver and your skin prickle as your nipples are just a little bit harder. He licks and sucks them eagerly, thinking to himself that this night couldn’t get any better.

Back to your chest his hands travel again. For just a short moment and a quick feel of his favourite spots. Along your collarbones, up and down your sternum, softly right over your pits and back to your breasts. Maybe he is imagining things, but all this worshipping he is doing makes them feel even softer in his palms.

"You're so soft, I love this so much", he whispers.

"Me too Bunny, I love this so much", you sigh, floating on the sensations.

He squeezes your breasts, letting your left nipple slip out of his mouth for a moment of breath. He is gazing at you, having kept his lips parted in awe but smiling cutely when you give him a smile.

"You're so handsome." "You're so pretty."

You and him said the words at the same time, gasping in realisation before giggling.

"What are the odds, right?" you giggle, leaning closer.

"Yeah, soulmate behaviour", Jungkook agrees and lets out a throaty giggle.

"Mhm", you cup his face, "my sweet Bunny", you whisper, rubbing the tip your nose against his'.

"My soulmate, hehe", he murmurs, making you smile goofily.

"Yeah, my soulmate", you agree and claim his lips in a longing kiss.

He tastes so sweet, his lips are so tender, his tongue is so polite in giving you the lead. Your chest is pressed against his', sharing warmth and tingling in the softness of his skin. You can also feel that he is hard by now, rubbing against your stomach each time you grind your core over his thigh.

You break the kiss in a smile, keeping your eyes closed.

"Mommy…"

"Mhm?" you open them, meeting devotion in his pretty eyes.

"Can I maybe, please, eat your pussy? Please?"

His politeness makes you smile. He is such a good boy. You trained him so well.

"You wanna eat my pussy?"

He nods his head.

"How much do you want her?"

"So much. So, so much."

"Mhm, that sounds like a lot", you give him a playful grin, "alright, yes you can have my pussy."

"Thank you, Mommy", he says and moans in excitement, "can you lie down?"

"Of course."

You take off your rope and then rest back in the pillow heaven Jungkook created. You feel like royalty in this position. Body comfortable but propped up enough that you see what Jungkook was doing. Legs tickled by the softest of silken sheets and arms supported by the pillows. This is perfect.

Jungkook seems mesmerised, resting on all fours while his eyes are glued to your pussy. Like this you can get a glimpse of how hard you make him with nothing but visuals. No touches, no stimulation, just your wet pussy and pretty tits and Jungkook is rockhard, stretching the red ribbon to its limit.

“You’re so sexy”, he whispers, reaching for your legs to feel them up with soft palms.

“Thank you, oh Bunny, I love this.”

Jungkook runs his fingertips up and down the inside of your thighs. It is a soft touch, simple and yet it carries such pleasure with it. Just seconds later and you find yourself squirming just slightly, wishing for him to move faster.

Jungkook kisses your feet first, starting with the left one before kissing your right. He did so in a kneeling position, the visual is making your skin feel electric. He is truly so perfect. The next kisses he leaves on each of your ankles, soft and placed with devotion.

“I’m yours”, he whisper, trailing kisses up your calves, “so fucking yours…”

He is close enough so you can reach out and play with his hair and so you do. You run your fingers through it, drinking in the way it glows in the lights and how you leave paths in it. It is seriously such a relaxing view. Tonight it turns you on as well, making you use your nails every now and then which results in Jungkook sneaking a glance at you and giving you a sweet sigh.

“That feels so good”, he tells you each time he does before placing an open-mouthed kiss on one of your inner thighs. He is just inches away from your pussy by now, holding your hips in his hands and showering your skin with kisses.

“You’re a tease tonight, aren’t you?” you say, sounding just slightly breathless. Truly, you are aching for his tongue.

He shakes his head, smiling to himself as he places his next kiss right next to your pussy. You shiver and gasp, parting your legs further.

“Just wanna take all of it in”, he whispers, kissing his way up to your lower stomach, “your skin”, a kiss, “your body”, a soft moan, “your taste”, a kiss right next to your core, “I wanna make sure I remember it.”

You can’t say anything against that. You could, but you don’t want to. It truly feels like a blessing to have Jungkook worship you with such passion.

"You're seriously so cute", you say, feeling his shy grin against your skin.

He shakes his head, "you're cuter."

He makes you chuckle and pet his hair.

“Okay, okay I’m cuter”, you give up, knowing very well that Jungkook in his competitiveness could argue about that for hours. And while you loved your arguments about who was cuter or who loved the other more, tonight you just wanted to get lost in the sensations. No loving bickering, just Jungkook’s touches.

“Mhm yeah”, he murmurs and nods his head, “so much cuter…” he whispers, trailing his kisses down to your core. He helps himself by parting your folds with his fingers. The gesture is already enough to make you squirm. It feels so good when he touches you like this, because you know what will follow.

A kiss right on top of your clit. A soft sigh of appreciation. Then his eyes flit up to look at your face.

“I love your pussy”, he whispers, letting his hot breath swirl over your core.

You give him a smile, petting his hair. He gives you a grin and then looks back at his favourite view.

“So pretty”, he whispers, parting you more just so he can watch how wet he has already gotten you. It looks so beyond temptatious and Jungkook can’t stop his tongue from darting out and stealing a taste. One slow lick, managing to make you gasp and for his tongue to get obsessed.

“So tasty”, he rasps, licking his lips.

He dances his pointer finger up and down your pussy, feeling up every inch of her while his other hand was still holding her open. The touch is soft, so tender, making you so incredibly needy for more.

“And so soft”, he whispers, rolling his fingertip over your clit slowly. It makes your hips buck up and your breath hitch in your throat. If only his touch wasn’t that gentle, oh you are going insane. This is the sweetest torture.

He abandons your clit, dancing his finger down your pussy again. He flips his hand so you now have a view of his palm. His eyes are locked on your core, his lips are parted in quick pants. He pushes, making your pussy swallow his ring finger slowly.

“Yes, ah fuck”, you moan, clenching around him. You can feel his wedding ring inside of you. Warm metal, now getting soaked in your juices. It is as if you are sealing your togetherness even more through the gesture.

His movements are slow. In and out. In and out. In and out. He uses his wrist for them, making sure to hold you open so he can watch how you stretch around him.

“So warm”, he rasps, wiggling his finger when he is inside of you. The movement is targeting your g-spot, tickling it out of hiding more and more.

You moan, making his eyes flit up.

“Is this the spot?” he asks.

You nod your head, whimpering out a yes.

“It feels so good”, he says, looking back at your pussy.

“Yeah it does…”

It seriously does. Jungkook is so skilled with his hands. He knows exactly how to touch you to make you feel as if you were floating. You roll your hips up and sigh his name, giving his hair a soft twist.

“Mhm Mommy”, he moans, connecting his lips with your clit in a slow tongue kiss.

“Yes, fucking hell, yes”, you groan, letting your head drop in the heap of pillows. Your legs fall open more, your entire body feels electric.

Now that his fingers are holding you open, he can reach you even better. Each suck, each lick, each kiss feels a dozen times better. His mouth is so warm, so wet, moving with such devotion.

“This is amazing Bunny”, you sigh, arching your back.

He answers you in a cute moan, licking over your clit slowly. His finger is pumping in an out of you again, going slow yet with the sole purpose of making it feel incredible for you. And it does. It feels heavenly.

“Amazing, ah so good…”

For the longest time you were a little weird about receiving pleasure. You blame the years of terrible sex you had at your work. Giving was just part of the job and not receiving anything the norm. And for the longest time you were just a little bit weird about Jungkook devoting himself solely to your pleasure. Lying back down, relaxing and letting him explore your body until you were trembling sounded like a task impossible to your work-poisoned mind.

You don’t feel like that these days. Although you still prefer watching him crumble under your touches, you love it so much when he is the one making you feel good.

“So good, you’re making me feel so good”, you moan softly, petting his hair. Jungkook is wiggling his finger again, sucking on your clit as if he was sucking on a lollipop. The sensation is incredible, sending jolts of electricity through your veins.

You also learned that Jungkook needs to give. He is truly such a giver and you learned that if you deny him his probably most instinctive desire he grows very unhappy with his performance in bed. You could make him cum a dozen times, make him shake and tell him that he did an amazing job, but he will still think that he sucked. So giving him nights where he can shower your body in devotion and attention is mandatory for his confidence and also for the happiness in your sex life.

“Oh right there”, you gasp, “there feels incredible, yes Bunny yes.”

Jungkook mewls, looking up at you. He can’t really see your face because you have your head thrown back, but he can see just how quickly your chest heaves up and down. Every now and then it stops completely as you hold your breath before moving again in quick pants. He loves the view so much. Your breasts look so good when he can look up at them.

Jungkook targets the wiggles of his finger on the spot which made you praise him, grinding the flat of his tongue over your clit.

“Yes Bunny, ah so good”, you moan, feeding him a throb of your clit, “so g-good.”

Jungkook mewls, feeling his cock throb. This right here is like heaven to him.

Now, allowing Jungkook nights where he can give and give and give is truly not a difficult task to do. He is just so good at what he gives. He is always attentive, ready to learn and improve, ready to listen and quite frankly also very aware of what feels good without you even having to tell him. Just like before when all it took for him to make your legs shake was the familiar feeling of your g-spot against the pad of his finger. That is all he needed to know what had to be done. Slow curls, talented wiggles, smooth rolls out of his wrist. He knows that you are obsessed with them and he is happy to give them to you.

“Another finger, Bunny”, you tell him, sighing in bliss when Jungkook slips his middle finger into you as well.

He breaks his lips away from your clit, letting the string of saliva break and hit his chin.

“Like this?” he makes sure, now moving both his fingers inside of you.

“Yes, fucking hell, exactly like this”, you croak, squirming on your pillow throne.

“I love this so much”, he moans, returning back to his spot between your legs. His right hand holds your pussy open while his mouth was making out with your clit. There is truly no better spot on earth.

“I love it too, I love it so much”, you pant, curling your toes in bliss.

Jungkook has the perfect fingers to use on your body. His nails are always groomed, never too long and obviously never dirty. His fingers have the perfect thickness to them and his knuckles fill you up so well. They also carry a certain strength in them, they are very obviously the hands of a strong man, and yet not once do they show you just how strong they were. They are always tender with you, holding and touching you in unbreakable devotion.

“Hold my tits”, you order him with an arch of your back.

Jungkook obeys with a soft moan, abandoning your pussy to dance his fingertips up your stomach to your breasts. His tongue has gotten your clit so swollen and sensitive that you barely even notice that he isn’t holding you open anymore. He still manages to send a constant stream of warmth through your veins with his licks.

Jungkook cups your right tit, holding it safely in his big palm. He squeezes it softly, having his eyes locked on it.

“Like this?” his voice is muffled by your pussy, the vibrations make your legs twitch.

“Yes like this”, you moan, voice quivering with every spoken, “just hold it, yes. Ah Bunny.”

“Mommy”, he whimpers, closing his eyes again. He loves it so much when he knows that he does a good job. It makes him feel a million times better. He does a good job. He is giving you pleasure. There is nothing better to him than this.

Truly there isn’t. A successful day at work, managing a difficult workout, finishing a long-term project perfectly. None of those things come close to how he feels when knows that what he is giving you is making you feel good.

“Licks Bunny, my faves, you know which one.”

“Yeah”, Jungkook croaks, furrowing his brows in complete desperation. Your favourite licks. The really, really fast ones. The ones which sound oh so wet and sinful and which make your legs shake uncontrollably. Tonight they also manage to make your hips buck up and your voice to crack in the most desperate of ways.

Jungkook knows what that means. You are currently trying to make yourself cum. He feels dizzy. He loves making you cum. And he goes literally crazy when you cum on his tongue and around his fingers.

You moan and Jungkook moans right with you, feeling just as much pleasure as you do. You taste so sweet, clench so much around him, shake so amazingly. Jungkook can barely handle the sensations. You can handle them even less, hearing your heartbeat in your ears and having to twist your own hair in pure desperation.

“Jungkook…I’m cumming”, you press out, having to gasp for air afterwards.

Jungkook moans needily, squirming on the mattress while his mouth was working wonders. He wants it, needs it, craves it. He hopes that it is soon. He really wants your climax.

“Ah Jungkook”, you moan, feeling the knot in your stomach burst. It spreads right from underneath his tongue, soaking into the deepest parts of your pussy and making his fingers feel incredible as well.

And Jungkook guides you right through it, swallowing everything you have to offer while thanking the heavens for giving him this current moment.

“No more, Bunny”, you gasp, fleeing his mouth with a wiggle of your hips.

Jungkook breaks away, lifting his head to gaze at your face. His chin and lips are glistening in your orgasm, his hair is ruffled and his pupils are so dilated. He keeps his hand on your breast, soaking up the way your heart is racing.

“Good job, holy fuck”, you whisper, slacking against the pillows, “that was so incredible. Oh careful.”

“Did I hurt you?” he gasps. He had pulled his fingers out before, but stopped when he felt you tense.

“No, just really sensitive.”

“Okay, like this? Is this good?” he asks, moving slowly and carefully.

“Yep, yeah. So good.”

He slips his fingers free, sticking them into his mouth instantly. You don’t even notice that he licks and sucks his own fingers, recovering on your pillow throne with your eyes closed and mouth agape. Jungkook does it nonetheless because he loves the taste of you. He moans when his tongue graces his wedding ring, having to sit up and climb on top of you.

It forces your knees to unbend and drop on the mattress. Jungkook plops down right on your pussy, moaning softly when this reminds him of all the time he rode your strap in this position. But tonight there is no strap there, just your heated skin and stickiness. Jungkook loves this sensation just as much.

You peel your eyes open and lift your head with a hum. His hands run up and down your torso, massaging your tits each time he meets them.

“Mhm Bunny”, you mumble, touching his toned thighs, “you just wrecked me.”

He giggles, “I’m so hard”, he confesses, still giggling.

“Yeah?” you look down at his cock. It is standing against his toned stomach proudly, his hard balls are rubbing against your lower stomach. Also the red ribbon. It is struggling, making his cock and balls appear deep red.

“You made a makeshift cockring there, didn’t you”, you say, playing with the perfectly done ribbon.

“Yeah, it’s so tight. I had to make sure it doesn’t slip off my soft dick, but I forgot about how big I get when I’m hard”, he says, whining just slightly.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not much, it’s bearable.”

“Do you want me to take it off and ride you?”

“Yes”, he moans, looking desperate immediately.

You sit up with the help of your abs, grabbing his ass and making him gaze deep into your eyes.

“Why don’t you relax against the pillows and I’ll fuck you slow?” you rasp, making Jungkook chase your lips with every spoken word.

He moans softly, fluttering his eyelids, “yes please.”

“Then get off of me.”

“Okay Mommy.”

He works quickly, climbing off your lap and exchanging places with you.

Now he is the one getting supported by the pillows, sitting cross-legged. You climb on top of his lap, running your hands up his inner thighs.

“Is this how you want it?” he asks.

“Yes, it’s perfect like this”, you say and tug on the string of the ribbon. It opens easily, making Jungkook groan in relief.

“Holy fuck, that was so tight. Oh my god, my cock feels so good now.”

His veins throb aggressively, making his entire length twitch needily.

“You’re so perfect”, you praise him, searching for the softness of his hair instantly.

Smiles get exchanged. It feels so good to be so close.

"Help me, sweets", you order him and Jungkook obeys gladly. He places his left hand on your lower back, using his right one to align himself with you.

He gives you the softest of pushes, signalling your hips to sink down. And they do. They sink down, allowing his length to breach you and fill you up.

"That’s it Bunny, that's it", you encourage him, pressing his forehead against yours and gazing into his eyes.

"___ I love you", he whispers, having to shiver afterwards.

He bottoms out, you and him shudder and moan, drawing closer.

"I love you too, Jungkook", you answer him and then you kiss him.

You kiss him, because that is all you wanted to do right now. Taste his moans, feel his kiss, hold him close. This is all you need right now.

His arms are cradling you, showing you just how strong he was and promising you everlasting protection.

Your fingers are running through his hair, showing him just how much you loved him and promising him everlasting adoration.

Your bodies move automatically and just perfectly in sync. Your hips showed the rhythm to him, slow but constant. Just back and forth in smooth rolls. This is afterall one of the best ways to feel the other.

It makes his length feel just so much better. Now, Jungkook was an amazing talent in fast and rough fucks. He makes you tremble like no one else could whenever he fucks you that way. But there is just something about truly taking the time to feel the other. When he fucks you fast and rough, his movements blend into one constant stream of amazingness, but when you and him fuck that slowly, you feel every shift and movement. And this is what reminds you just how fucking lucky you are to have him as your husband.

Jungkook has to break the kiss then, tilting his head back just enough that you can see his eyelids fall closed.

"You feel so good", he sighs, smiling droopily.

"You too, my love", you answer him, "you're made for me."

"Yes, just for you….all for you….o-only for you."

"Mhm Bunny", you sigh, resting your forehead on his shoulder, "I freaking adore you."

Jungkook squeezes you, nuzzling his face into your hair.

"Me too. I adore you so much", he croaks then let's out the sweetest of moans.

He throbs inside of you, meeting your movements for just one desperate buck of his hips. Then it is already back to slow rolls and feeling every single second of the warmth.

Bodies draw closer. Like this you can feel his silken skin against yours and his pecs brush your chest. You like being this close to him. You like to feel how the tightness of the hug squishes your breasts against him. It is such a nice sensation because it means that in this moment you and Jungkook are one. One body, one soul, one. And there was no better feeling in this world.

You lift your head, only to bury it in his neck instead. Soft kisses, slow grinds, loving touches and Jungkook is shivering, squirming for just a second.

"Thank you so much", he chokes out, squeezing your butt with his big hands, "thank you, thank you, thank y-you."

"Mhm my Bunny", you sigh, kissing his neck with all the love you have for him. You love it so much when his hands are on your butt, they feel as if they belonged there. Tonight he uses them to help you with the movements. Now, they weren’t exhausting movements or the kind which required help, but Jungkook likes to help nonetheless. There is quite frankly nothing more rewarding and perhaps even healing for his soul than knowing that he can help you feel good. He also just really likes the sensations of your muscles flexing and his hands following your movements. It makes the sex you are having just all the more immersive for him.

"My Bunny", you come up for air, "this right here is gonna make me cum."

"Really? Is, is it nice?"

"Yes Bunny, so nice. I love being close to you", you whisper and moan.

Jungkook whimpers, giving your butt a needy squeeze.

"Yes Bunny, this yes. You help me so well, I love what you’re doing", you praise him, feeling him shudder underneath you.

"Kiss me please", he begs, turning his head.

You do. You kiss him deeply, tasting the sweetness of his sounds and letting his tongue tangle with yours. He is eager in his kisses, clearly wanting it to be deeper than you do. And so you let him guide you, moaning into his mouth while your hips draw circles on his length.

Tongue kisses. Dizzy heads. Lungs aching for air. Bodies trembling.

"Fuck, my love", Jungkook croaks between kisses, digging his nails into your ass.

"I know my love, I know, it’s so good", your voice is pitched in pleasure, quivering as you speak.

His pubic bone is grinding against your clit with each movement and it’s driving you insane. Truly, it is hilarious just how easily his body can bring you to your limits. Yes, the grind feels nice but when you experience it with him it feels electrifying.

"Can, can you please – ah – relax?" he stutters, tensing his thighs.

You feel his hasty breath swirl over your lips.

"It's so good, Bunny", you sigh, caressing his trembling stomach.

Jungkook whines softly, parting his lips. He is throbbing oh so much, making his cock feel a dozen times better. Your body tingles in warmth.

"You fuck me so well, Bunny. I'm fucking obsessed with you."

"Mommy", he squeaks out, "I won’t last l-long."

"Hush, it’s okay. I know you can do it, my Bunny", you comfort him, claiming his lips in a sloppy kiss afterwards.

Jungkook kisses you back eagerly, feeding you his high-pitched sounds of pleasure while his hands squeezed and squeezed and squeezed your butt.

Your bodies were oh so heated, carrying a sheer layer of sweat where you touched. It draws you just that much closer. It feels so divine to be just slightly too hot with him. Especially when this brings you oh so close to your high.

"Ah Kook", you break the kiss, cupping his face in your hands, "now listen to, to me."

"Yes Mommy, I’m listening", he sighs, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes.

"I'm gonna cum and, and y-you are gonna – ah – hold back for me."

You tremble, tensing your stomach.

"Understood?"

"Yes Mommy, understood", he says, sounding just that little bit desperate. This is a task. His cock is aching oh so much and having to hold back when you orgasm around him is going to be so difficult. But he has to, he is your good boy, he doesn’t disobey you. Especially not tonight when his disobedience would ruin the fuzzy feelings you and him are currently in.

So Jungkook bites down on his lower lip and tenses his body, readying himself for the sweet, incredible feelings of your high.

"Yes Bunny, yes oh yes. Yes, yes, yes", you chant and groan, flinching just once before stilling your hips.

"Ah Mommy", he presses out, feeling oh so close. Your orgasm feels so good. Oh god he just wants to cum.

"Ah Kookie, my Kookie. Holy fuck yes", you pant, chasing the full high with uncoordinated ruts of your hips. Climaxing just like this, feels oh so good.

"It's so hard, I wan-wanna cum", he mewls, squirming underneath you.

"Ah Bunny", you come down with a sigh of your favourite nickname, stilling on top of him.

You lift your head. Your vision is just slightly blurry, but the desperation on his features is as clear as day to you.

"Do you want to cum?" you ask him.

"Yes, so much", he says in a pout.

"Okay then", you say and do the criminal thing of slipping off of him.

"No! Back, oh my god, back. Please back, back. Please, Mommy please back", Jungkook begs, voice almost breaking in tears.

He tugs on your hips, tries to get you to move, trembles and sniffles.

"Please back, please back, pleasee", he draws out the last word, eyes filling with tears.

"Lie down for me and I will."

"Okay, yes okay, yes. Lie down. Yes okay."

Jungkook obeys, within seconds he is sprawled on the mattress in whatever direction his body falls.

Head facing the left edge of the bed and legs pointing at the right corner. His hair is all messy too, having fallen into his face and making him look so beyond adorable.

"Please back now, please please please", he begs.

"You're so cute when you’re like this", you coo, climbing on top of him.

Jungkook welcomes you with grabby hands, holding your hips in an instant. You don’t let him wait too long, sinking down on him the moment you are in your preferred position. Right on top of him, with your hands on his pecs and your eyes locked on his face.

It is currently pulling the cutest expression of utter bliss. Eyes closed, mouth agape and lashes resting against his rosy cheeks prettily.

"You're so handsome, oh so handsome", you praise, caressing his cheek with the back of your hand.

"Mommy", he gets out and then he resorts to making the best sounds for you. Moans, sighs, whimpers and cute gasps for air. Jungkook is completely and utterly lost in the sensations.

"I love this so much", you sigh, resting your hand around his throat. You don’t squeeze it, you just allow him to feel the weight of it.

Jungkook reacts with a gasp of your title, fluttering his eyelids without ever managing to open them.

"You're mine, my love, mine", you whisper, caressing the side of his neck with tender fingers. His pulse is racing under your fingertips.

"Yours…"

Jungkook arches his back, making his length shift deeper inside of you. It makes him gasp and then tremble. He drops with a grunt, dragging his hands from your waist down to your hips.

"Good?" you ask, despite knowing the answer.

"Good, so good", he rasps and whimpers. He bucks his hips up.

"Uh-nuh", you stop him, squeezing down on his throat in warning.

He peels his eyes open, looking confused and completely drugged-out.

"Stay still Bunny, just stay still."

"Mommy", he whines, squeezing his eyes shut, "you give me so much tasks."

You grin. There we go. Jungkook has reached the point of adorable sex dumbness. Now you won’t get any clever sentences from him. You are obsessed with this state of his’.

"This is one task, Bunny. Come now, show me how good you are."

Jungkook squirms, pouting desperately.

"Wanna move."

"I know you do, but you won’t", you rasp, caressing his heated cheeks with loving fingers, “am I correct?”

He nods his head vigorously, furrowing his brows in concentration.

“Yes? And why is that?”

“I’m Mommy’s good Bunny.”

“Yes you are. My good Bunny, such a good boy”, you praise, placing your hands on his chest. You arch your back and stick your ass out, using the new position to fuck him even better.

“Ah fuck”, Jungkook moans loudly, scrunching his nose up, “holy f-fuck.”

“Can you feel how deep you are?”

“Yeah…”

“Mhhm yeah”, you murmur, circling your hips when you reach his terribly sensitive tip.

Jungkook’s legs squirm on the mattress, his forehead creases as he furrows his brows even further.

“Stay still, Bunny. Stay still.”

Jungkook nods his head, tongue darting out to wet his lips. A second later his mouth falls open, allowing blissed-out moans to roll over his tongue. You make him feel fucking spiritual. So goddamn close to god. This right here is the only thing he’ll ever pray to.

“Fuck, you seriously look so handsome right now”, you praise, giving him a clench of your warm walls.

He throbs. Fingers twitch on your hips. His throat works in a harsh swallow before he moans again. You can also watch that his eyes race behind his lids. He is officially lost in the sensations.

“My handsome husband”, you whisper, forcing his back to arch.

He drops, squirms and arches his back again. He also lets out a soft sob, lower lip sticking out in a cute pout. His cock is so hard inside of you, throbbing each time you drop down on him.

“You’re allowed to cum whenever. Just no moving”, you tell him, painting epiphany on his face.

“Faster please”, he croaks.

“Yeah? Do you need it faster?”

He nods his head, “please.”

“Like this?” you ask him and show him just how good you can ride him.

“Fuck”, he presses out in a barely there whisper, dancing his hands up your sides. His eyes race behind his lids again, his lips curl into a drugged-up smile.

“Yeah, just like this. Look at that handsome smile”, you say, rewarding him with skilled rolls of your hips. You time them with quick bounces up and down his sensitive cock. Truly, it feels amazing for you too. Jungkook has the most perfect cock ever.

He laughs then, ending it with a sharp intake of breath and his brows shooting up in surprise. You speed up, gawking at his face with crazy obsession in your eyes.

“Fuck”, he croaks and moans in a laugh, “holy fuck.”

His hands land on your tits, palming them with eagerness. It sends sparks of electricity through your body.

“Cumming, Mommy”, he squeaks out, squirming.

“Don’t hold back, cum for me”, you encourage him.

“Holy fuck”, he moans loudly, stumbling over the edge with such intensity that he almost knees you in the back as he begins kicking and shaking.

“There we go, yes Bunny you’re doing so good”, you encourage him, helping him with slow rolls of your hips.

“It’s so good”, he whines, throwing his head back, “holy fuck, Mommy.”

“I know bunnybaby, I know. It’s what you deserve”, you rasp, calming down his shaking body with soft touches.

Jungkook huffs out air, grinding his teeth. Just one last shake. One last amazing, mindnumbing shake and then he drops on the mattress. His limbs stop working, he feels short of breath. Gasping for it, he tries to get air back into his lungs.

“You did so well, oh my babyboy, you did so well”, you coo, littering his handsome face with kisses. His forehead, his nose, his eyelids, his cheeks, his chin, his jawline. You are obsessed with every inch of it.

“Oh my sweet babyboy, you just made Mommy so happy”, you whisper, kissing his lips over and over again.

Jungkook can barely kiss you back, feeling so dizzy and far gone. He wasn’t ready for just how intense his climax would feel and now he is barely even alive. This is going to stay in his little mind drawer of best nights I had with my wifey.

You lift your head with a giggle, studying his features.

“Are you okay Bunny?” you ask him, cupping his cheek.

“No”, he croaks out, “he died.”

“Oh dear”, you crack up, smooching his lips, “was it that good?”

“Yeah, so fucking intense.”

“Ah that’s so nice to hear”, you snuggle into him, “I’m so glad I could make you feel like that.”

Jungkook wraps his weak arms around you, inhaling your scent. You smell so good after sex.

“Thank you, Mommy.”

“No, I have to thank you. That was seriously the best surprise ever, Bunny.”

“Mh-hm yeah, my brain is huge.”

You laugh, petting his head.

“Of course it is. You’re such a smart and creative man. I’m obsessed.”

Jungkook smiles goofily, blinking slowly before deciding that keeping them close was the better option. He is so happy to be your husband.

1K notes · View notes

valmare · 9 months

Note

For your 300 party I was wondering if I could request reader lovin on Ice. I've read a lot of Ice taking care or protecting reader, but at this point in my life I need some soft, clingy Tom. Maybe he's sore from an ejection, or he caught some sickness (or maybe he get tension headaches from clenching that gorgeous jaw of his.....)

Idk, you do you boo

Okay, so, this is a little angsty but I think it accomplishes the mission at hand. Somehow it ended up 14 Google Docs pages, but, I'm not complaining. Enjoy the Iceman, love.

Keep Me Alive

“God, it’s good to be home.”

If the little edge of impatience weren’t so evident in Slider’s tone, the way he shifts a little on his feet and cards fingers through his hair would be evidence enough. For the better part of an hour, they’d been standing on deck as the carrier slides home to quay, dwarfing any and all the bodies that have gathered to welcome some six-thousand men home.

For the first time Tom is conscious of, the beast beneath his feet isn’t moving, cutting through dark waters. Bobs on the surface of glassy waters, like God’s bath toy, but isn’t in motion. Knocks against the wharf every so often. A sure sign he is home.

Mentions of home have kicked anticipation down the length of his spine like a mule for nearly a week. He hadn’t slept soundly since they’d pointed the rig in the direction of the golden coast. There’d been no better way to spend time on this thing than counting the days he’d be docked, feet planted on solid ground. Even on his hops, he’d been half distracted thinking about home—his bed, his car, all the meals gone cold from being too busy holding you. Eight weeks on the water was enough–two of them in Medical had driven him just short of insanity.

Medical had taken a concussion and a jacked collarbone all-too seriously, but that was the Navy for you. Making a big deal out of injuries when in reality, it came with the gig. Maintenance issues happened, cropped up out of nowhere all the time—facts of life, all that. Traveling at mach speed, pulling Gs and breaking sound barriers tended to work a bird pretty hard. Loosened some screws. And he didn’t exactly take it easy on his rig, that wasn’t his job. He flew the damn things, went to work, ensured national security, and came home.

But, a hundred and fifty miles out is a helluva distance to bail and watch the ocean consume forty million tax dollars. Man doesn’t really know what insignificance feels like until he’s surrounded by churning waters and open sk.Dwarfed by the cruel joke that is the behemoth of the ocean. Reality had hit him as soon as he’d broken the surface, Ron a few hundred feet to his right—he wasn’t as indestructible as adrenaline would lead him to belief.

He’d almost bought it. Died. In a matter of seconds, everything he’d known about the world hadn’t mattered. He’d only thought of his little slice of home in San Diego, you waiting for him on the front porch. His car parked in the driveway—the life he could have with you. All the things he’d never said but wanted to have bludgeoned him like a sledgehammer. Seconds were all he had, but he lived an entire life in those heartbeats—or, rather, hadn’t lived.

Ice didn’t have any idea how actually freezing the Indian was. Well, more accurately, how freezing open ocean was. Survival training had been forever ago, the body easily discarded information that wasn’t necessary to immediate survival. His feet had hit the water first, its glacial bite cutting straight to his bones as the full weight of miles of endless depth had attempted to pull him under surface. He’d immediately started shaking, heart kicking against his ribs, brain somehow managing to tell his limbs what came next. Lungs immediately burning, Ice realized he was a complete pussy—not built for the cold, couldn’t hold his breath for shit. Realized how actually awful he was at swimming. Cursed the Navy for not enforcing mandatory swim training as he’d cut through the water, grappling for air.

The black veil of unconsciousness pushed inward from the perimeter of his vision. Hadn’t even been aware he was still wearing his helmet, it did nothing to cut the roar of a spinning ocean. Bile splashed in the back of his throat he’d taken one breath of air, panicked, and dropped back down. Might as well have weighed a thousand pounds. Seconds from kicking off his boots, his vest engaged to float him up, and a firm kick of his legs sent him popping back above the water.

Treading water became second nature. He hadn’t even registered the pain of his arm until the glass ceiling of reality had shattered—Ice went through the motions, almost like routine. Popped ink. Sucked frigid, biting air into his lungs. Watched his chute roll away on the water, tipped his head back to see the still-there trail of smoke he’d left behind. Remembering Slider, he was prepared to meet Kerner halfway. Angled to attempt a crawl. Instead, white-hot, shooting pain rocked him to his back, twisted his freezing facial muscles into a grimace. Arm rendered all but usable, it was already throbbing despite the freezing water trying to suck him in.

You passed through his mind on a continuous loop, unstoppable. Beautiful. Every few seconds he was smacked with the truth of his current state of affairs, that he could still die. Die without telling you again how much he loved you. How you were the sun, he but a revolving moon chasing after you. You put him back together, took him apart. Fixed the places the world dared to break. He allowed you to, because nobody touched him like you could—nobody saw him like you did. They saw the Iceman, the master of the skies, the man without mistakes. The saw who they wanted to see.

You saw him for who he was—imperfect. Broken. You saw the reflections he hides for the world. Demons he fights. And, you loved him. You still worshiped him, sought him. Ran into his embrace when he came home—because. Just because. His reward; witnessing parts of you that locked out the world, that rattled the cages of those who looked inside. Imperfections that only resurrected in the valleys, when the time was equal parts right and wrong. You didn’t ask him to fix you, to do it the right way. Expectations were a discussion, not a right.

Ice didn’t have to be the Iceman when you held him. You allowed him to be Tom, to pursue his own mistakes—to make them. And when he did, you helped him fix them. He could be just Tom. Like nobody else had allowed him to be. Since he’d been able to walk he’d run in the shadow of his family name. The Academy had created Iceman. Buried any form of the little boy who had raced across Hawaiian sands and drank in the ocean, who had become a man. And you? Well.

You saw the Iceman. You remembered the boy. You embraced both sides of him and understood they reflected off the other. Chose to see both sides of him when the world only would witness one.

And dying—God, dying apart from that feeling? Hell reincarnated.

Aware that you already knew all these things was poor man’s poison. He could tell you a hundred times he loved you, could hang it in the sky and write it in blood and everlasting starlight but he’d starve over it again and again. It could never echo loud enough. He was going to die sometime, probably in situations not unlike the one he’d been in. He would die like this, knowing that even telling you endlessly would never be enough. That was hell.

Small eternities had passed, tossed around in frigid whitecaps and swelling waves, before Slider had cut through the bleeding ink to him. Ron was fine, thank Christ for him. But he’d known nearly immediately that Ice was not. Shaking hands managed to tether them together, and a flyby exam had Kerner suspecting that he’d wracked up something in the top shelf. Together they’d just bobbed there. Waiting for SAR, maybe dying. It was anybody’s guess.

SAR had sent him straight to Medical, where he’d been in and out for two weeks nursing a concussion and a cracked collarbone. He’d lasted three days in a brace and had tossed it across quarters. Hadn’t worn it sense, but had been restricted to light duty. Grounded. His plane buried miles beneath the dark water. He’d almost anticipated them flying him off, but the O-6 had thought he’d be useful running comms and flight sims. Fuck Captains and the crazy stick up their asses. He could’ve been home, with you, sleeping in a bed more his than any of the ones he’d even been assigned—eating hot squares, watching you make his assignment a home.

It doesn’t matter, not in hindsight. He’s docked and home. Somewhere in the press of bodies at the wharf, you’re there waiting for him and will welcome him with open arms and that gorgeous smile that’s ravaged him from the first time he saw you, at that stupid volleyball game where he’d lost to Maverick. Fucking Maverick. His ego would probably never recover from that one.

Thank God for that loss, though. Maverick. If Mitchell hadn’t been trying to smile at you, pick you up, he’d never have barged over and smiled back. While there was a lot about Mitchell that pissed him off, his timing wasn't always terrible. And he had good fuckin’ taste in women—he’d wanted you. But miracles did exist — you hadn’t bought his cowboy attitude, abs and smile and all.

“It’ll take a lot more than a pretty smile and skin, cowboy,” you’d shrugged a shoulder, swung a leg over the bleacher you’d been parked on, and effortlessly your eyes had skated over to him from the other man. Maverick dared to comment that you were unreasonable. “Oh I’m not unreasonable. You’re just more trouble than you’re worth. Anyone ever tell you you’re dangerous, honey?”

Signed, sealed, delivered. He was sold. Shoving Slider’s proposition for another game off, he’d thrown on a shirt and eyeballed you as you’d cut back to your car—the ‘72 Chevy C/K with a four-barrel V8 and fat, gorgeous tires that still killed him. Powder blue with a strip of cream, it had all the right curves. Like you. All sure signs you were worth the effort of jogging over and making his case. You’d agreed to a drink, just one– he’d offered to pick you up. You’d laughed and he’d been boneless.

You did not take rides in cars with boys. Even if they wore wings and looked pretty in their U.S. Navy best. And his favorite thing about it? You had boundaries. Standards. Boundaries that preserved whatever sweet thing the two of you had. He’d never met a pretty little thing that hadn’t folded under the right smile. Whites always impressed the tits anywhere he’d ever gone—and while he’d caught you more than appreciating him, it wasn’t enough.

Never since his time even in the Academy had Ice imagined there being anything that could parallel the rush of cutting through the air. Racing by at mach speeds, the sting of adrenaline in the blood. For so long that had been it for him, nothing boots on the ground could compare. But then you’d come into his life, and everything and nothing started making sense. He’d kissed you and his heart had been avalanched wide open, in ways he hadn’t known existed. You’d asked him to stay. Tethered him like a kite to the earth, beckoning him back to somewhere that had meaning. Even if that somewhere had never before been home.

“Ice. Kazansky—you okay, chief?” His gaze snaps up, all too quickly. “Fucking hell, Ice—you’ve got it bad. Dick really that hard over her already?” He’s not serious, but the glint in the other man’s eye is enough to send Ice’s own eyes rolling. Exasperated, he shakes his head a little.

“Shut up, Slider,” he manages the growl as quietly as possible, while slipping aviators into place, “don’t act like I don’t know you haven’t been fucking yourself for eight weeks.” Ice can’t help but rally in his victory of heat rushing to the tips of Kerner’s ears, “You and I both know you’re in whatever pussy so much as bats an eye your direction.”

“That right?” Ron cuts a look over his shoulder, and Tom’s cheshire grin is unmissable, probably from space. “Think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you, Kazansky?”

“Tell me I’m wrong, Slider,” he shoves at Kerner’s shoulder, sending the man forward, “I’ll wait.”

“Screw you, Ice.”

Commotion on deck signals the ramp’s letdown. Slider’s elbow knocks his, jostling him a bit as he bends for his gear, hauling it up to his shoulder. Ice manages his own, but forgoes his shoulder, favoring the injury that still aches as he falls in behind Ron. Kerner’s height towers above most and cuts a path through the gaggle of bodies lingering on deck, waiting for them disembark. It’s a perk of being an aviator.

Last to load, first to leave.

He can’t help but laugh at the man’s sour expression, but he’s beat and Slider knows it. It isn’t a serious offense, but the heat hasn’t dropped out of Slider’s ears yet, which sends a bolt of pride down to his face. It sounds off in a sure smile.

Slider might hate it, but he knows his RIO pretty well. Cold beer, some laughs and a good fuck constitute a successful date is really all it takes to impress his backseater. And Ice can’t really fault him for it. To each their own. Slider hasn’t met the perfect girl yet—he doesn’t get it. He may never. But that isn’t exactly Ice’s problem.

He knows he’s right, though, as the ramp drops to the quay, rattling the chains between scuppers. It’s all the release the atmosphere on deck needs—nearly instantly, the weight of six thousand men press around the small crop of aviators stepping off, all bristled with the anticipation of finding family and going home. But they don’t get to leave, not for a few days. Families waiting at the base of the ramp are for aviators, him. It’s a powerful, alarming feeling. He can’t imagine the torture of being so close but so far away.

But he doesn’t care—immediately he begins looking for you, eyes scanning over a few dozen nameless faces in between heartbeats. He can’t see over Slider’s goliath height as they meld into the press of nearly-silent people, and for a second, Ice wonders if anyone can feel his heart throbbing like a jackhammer against his ribs, or if that’s a privilege reserved just for him and blood in his ears.

Someone clips his injured arm and he grimaces, releasing a low huff at the bolt of pain that zings to his fingertips and down his spinal column. It bleeds into the familiar, dull ache again as Slider continues cutting between bodies. Guiding him to the perimeter of the crowd, neither of them spotting you. For a second fear sinks deep fangs into the back of his head—you could’ve forgotten he’s home today. There could’ve been an accident, you could be a thousand miles from here.

But you aren’t in the press of bodies waiting at the dock. Mingling with the other families and making small talk, reeling in the nervous energy of waiting wasn’t all that appealing for so early in the morning as you’d parked your pickup in the lot, well beyond the dock. You’d gotten here earlier than the other families—you always did. Watching the carrier rumble into port without the white noise of milling families was its own kind of magic. Especially in a quiet cab with hot coffee, a journal, and Sunday’s notes skittered across the dash.

It’s the worst possible Saturday your boyfriend could dock, when you’re preaching Sunday. Scheduled to stand before nothing short of a couple hundred people at your family’s church, you’d been nervous about this for weeks. When you’d been approached for the opportunity, almost immediately you’d remembered the date circled on your calendar. The papers Tom had talked to you about nearly eight weeks ago—he was due home. Today. Hours before you were giving your first sermon as a graduating minister, the sermon that would lock in your credentials and guarantee you a diploma. Trembling from excitement and nerves, you’d accepted the opportunity and scheduled a date to meet with the church’s board of elders.

And between cleaning the house, sermon preparations, your thesis, and missing Tom you’d been scrambling well into the early hours of dark morning. Hadn’t collapsed into bed until well after two in the morning, you’d gotten up at six to be out the door. The dock wasn’t far from assignment housing, but family’s have had vehicles parked here for a few days. Not wanting to grapple for parking, you’d just decided to camp here, when the carrier had been little more than a speck on the gray horizon.

Sipping at your coffee, your eyes dart up from the material you’ve been pouring over for the better part of a week. Paul and the church of Corinth, the subject of your thesis. You can’t wait to preach it. It sends zips of nervous energy to your fingertips, thinking about it, but it blows away like a late summer breeze when you spot Slider’s height through the crop of people. Your heart slams to an all-stop as he cuts out of the crowd, a head of blonde hair not a breath behind him.

Your smile broadens when you see him casing for you. Fingers effortlessly pop the latch of your door and you slip out onto the step bar, balanced against the door. Slipping fingers in your mouth you release a sharp whistle, then reach down to punch the horn a couple of times. You break out in giggles and see the minute he spots you, waving at them with a bright, goofy smile. Even from here, his pearly smile is captivating and unmissable.

Immediately they both start making their way from the dock and you drop back into the cab, hurriedly closing your materials and tucking them up on the dash against the windshield. Flipping the visor, you check what little makeup time had allotted for you to apply, and with a shrug you smack it closed. Acceptable, your fingers brush the keys in the ignition when you pop out of the truck, batting the door closed behind you.

Darting around the pickup, you step from the concrete to the steps sloping from the lot, heart rate nearly at odds with your quick feet. Taking them nearly two at a time, you forgo the last step with a little hop. And when he’s close enough, his bag drops to the ground and his arms open. Scooping you up, you don’t miss Ice’s grunt of pain upon impact. He slides his glasses into his hair, doesn't make a big deal of his injury. You don’t either, and within seconds his hands are cradling your face for a hard, desperate kiss.

You’re happy to stay here and drink him in, to never stop and let the world bleed away, until Slider makes a gagging sound over Ice’s shoulder.

“God, this is embarrassing—alright, okay, we get it, you’re made for each other. Now if you’re done eating each other’s face, let’s get the hell out of here.” He sounds irritated but you know better—Slider’s a jealous creature, but it's all in good fun.

You snort out a laugh against Ice’s mouth and break back with a wet pop to look over at Slider. A crooked smile twists up his mouth as he adjusts the bag on his shoulder. Offering him a lazy smile, you rest your head against Ice’s chest as his arms snug up a little tighter around you, which wrinkles your nose affectionately.

“Hey, Kerner.” He’s smiling at you when you slip out from Ice’s arms to wrap the RIO in a welcoming embrace. He bear-hugs you, thick arms arm as he exaggerates his hug with a little growl, nose tucking into your neck for a breath of your perfume. “Good to see you, Sli.”

“Hey yourself, pretty,” he claps a hand on your shoulder and you lift on toes to kiss his cheek hello, which sends a sparkling smile to his lips. “Got enough room in daddy’s pickup for the three of us?” He knows you do, but makes a show of flexing his chest to emphasize his size. The running joke, always. You can’t help the smile and little roll of your eyes, shoving him back at the shoulder.

“Of course I do, if you ride in the back, Ron.” you step back, Ice’s arm lifting over and he laughs. Full and loud, rich and genuine it prompts a smile from you as he slips his aviators back into place, your arms sliding home around his middle as Slider rolls his eyes and makes for the stairs, looking miffed.

Slider tosses his and Ice’s bag in the bag of the pickup, and as he does so, Ice crowds you against the driver’s door, arm draped through the open window. His hand moves to play with one of your curls, the lazy smile on his face coquettish as his eyes scan over your face, drinking you in. Your bottom lip rolls in under your teeth and you sink back against the door a little beneath his gaze. Swirl of butterflies in your stomach, the muscle of his jaw ticks with a repressed smile.

“Hey you,” his finger slips your curl behind your ear, then slowly falls down the cut of your jaw to hook your chin in place. You manage back the most pathetic return “Hey,” that’s more of a squeak than anything that could be considered a greeting. You jump when two sharp bangs erupt from the box, Slider’s fist knocking against the side of your pickup with deliberate force.

Brows lifted, the look says everything as he gestures to the truck. “We leavin’ or what?”

Ice’s look is stone cold. “Ron. Shut up.”

Your brows lift as you turn back to Tom, shifting on your feet a little as your eyes sweep down his frame, which is slung forward to pin you against the door. Pleasurable color rises to your cheeks as you feel Ron open the passenger door. “You two always this married?” And you don’t miss the amusement on Tom’s face as you smile at him, eyes purposefully lidded. His lips part to respond but you reach behind your back, pop the door, and nudge it open. “You drive, I’ll ride middle seat.” And you slip through door along the bench seat, in next to Slider.

It’s a tight fit, but comfortable enough when Ron lifts his arm along the back seat, allowing you to rest against him as Ice flicks the keys forward, the 350 rumbling to life with a smooth growl that sends appreciation through your blood. Ice has always looked delicious driving your pickup, but eight weeks of not seeing him hits differently in the pit of your gut. Your tongue skates along your low lip as you devour him navigating the parking lot, the cut of his arm in short-sleeved khaki.

The jaunt to your little rental isn’t long, but Slider’s complaining of the cramped quarters anyway when Ice pulls the pickup against the curb, making room in the driveway. Kerner wastes no time getting out of the cab, retrieving his gear beside Ice as you scoop up your reading material in the crook of your arm. Ice passes you your keys and you hurry up to the door to unlock it, slip inside, and dip into the attached garage to slap at the door controls.

Dropping your stuff in the kitchen, you sling your keys into the tray they’re always parked in. You straighten your college sweatshirt a little, push the sleeves up to your elbows. Nervous habit— you’re more than a little anxious to have that eyesore of a Trans Am out of your garage. It’s been sentinaled beside Ice’s Chevelle since he’d parked it there, in your spot. More than once you’ve thought about rolling it out to the curb so your baby can rest in its rightful spot, but you aren’t that soulless. Even if it’s the ugliest damn thing you’ve ever seen.

Telling yourself you’re genuinely glad to see Ron and that you don’t actually want to chase him out, you can’t ignore Ice’s taste still on your tongue, the need you have to be alone with him.

Bouncing down the two steps into the garage, you pass between the Chevelle and Pontiac, finger deliberately tracing the sharp body lines of the Chevy at a slow, swaying pace that’s enough to notice Ice’s attention side-eye over to you. Leaning against the side of the garage, he’s been discussing something or another with Kerner in one-word answers. The back of your mouth thickens with dry—his sun-kissed arm flexes the material of the khakis as he crosses his arms, his fingers all but magnetic as they slide over his skin.

Electricity at the mere sight him cuts down your spine and you jump a little, moving to dip low through the open window of the Trans Am. Your fingers find the keys along the column. A peek over the steering column and you catch Ice watching you, reveling in the sight of you slung into Ron’s car. His expression isn’t readable as your lips twist into a grin, and you deliberately linger to draw his attention. And you can’t miss how he rubs his hand along his jaw, attempting to stifle the absolutely filthy look glinting in his eyes.

Slipping back through the window, you pop tall and spin Slider’s keys on your finger. “Kerner,” he stops mid-sentence to glance at you, hands still mid-gesture. His expression changes from one of passive indifference to sexual appreciation as your hip falls against the door of the Pontiac with deliberate flirtation. Underhanding his keys to him, you crook a smile. “Get this sorry piece of crap out of my garage before I roll it into the middle of the frickin’ street.”

Ice’s cough is more a laugh as he sets his jaw, impressed with the look that muddles Kerner’s face. The RIO’s brow drops into a frown as he snags the keys from the air in his hands, looking from them back to you. You’re giggling at him, brightening the smile on your face to indicate that you’re only teasing, but not really. And then Ice looks at you, his wolfish gaze dragging over you slowly. Lingers where your hands knead through the front of your sweatshirt, the cut of your hip that’s more than a little cocked. You offer him a greedy look of your own. Exaggerate licking your lips. And it says everything.

He looks good. You look as good as you imagine you can, in jeans and a college sweatshirt and what little makeup you normally wear. But you know it doesn’t matter what you wear, not really. Eight weeks nearly lifetime-guarantees interest, even if you’d been wearing a nunnery. Locked in a wordless conversation, Ice’s brow raises a little and his head cants to the side. You look away, purposefully.

Cat and mouse, forever and always. All the little games that you love, come ashore to play. Heat simmers at the base of your spine, and you absently spin the ring on your finger, rocking up on your toes as your eyes fall back to the Chevelle, which you love. You love this damn car. Probably more than you should.

Passing the keys between his hands, Slider rolls his eyes and audibly groans. Moving to haul his gear to his shoulder, he points first at Ice and then at you, finger cutting between the pair of you as he moves to the Trans Am, you crowding back against the Chevelle to let him by.

“You both behave yourselves,” he chucks his bag through the window to the passenger seat. Popping the door a little, he turns to thrust an accusatory finger in your face, “Don’t do anything I would do, Reverend.” Trying to sound serious, his lips curl up into a barely-contained smile that makes you giggle.

“Ew. No,” you try to look serious. It cracks beneath a hint of a smile.

He points to the side of his mouth, indicating a kiss as he slips sunglasses into place from the pocket of his uniform. Rolling your eyes, you press a soft kiss to the spot, Slider beaming proudly at the accomplishment. He looks to Ice and wags his brows, and Tom rolls his eyes. “See ya later, pretty.” He makes a show of grabbing you aggressively, like he wants more than just a friendly kiss. He doesn’t, but it pushes Tom from his leaning position against the garage all the same.

“Get lost, Slider,” Ice moves in beside you, and you shove at Ron’s shoulder. Impressed with himself, Ron’s grin widens and he kisses your forehead, lowering the shades on his nose enough to wink at you before he claps a hand on Ice’s uninjured shoulder, nodding at him.

“Alright. I’m outta here.” The RIO drops into the Trans Am, fires it up, and tears out of the driveway. You watch him from the vacated spot until the eyesore of a Pontiac is down the block and out of sight, the exaggerated muffler making your eyes roll to the ceiling of the garage as Slider purposefully feeds the thing fuel.

You don’t even have time to think before Ice grabs your arm and pulls you over to him, crowding you up against the back of the Chevelle. The steel is warm beneath your hands from California heat as Ice captures you in another hard kiss, licking into your mouth with a filthy moan that nearly cripples you where you stand. Suddenly unaware of anything but his sun-chapped mouth on yours, you melt into his touch when his hands find your thighs, nudging you back farther against his car.

In one fluid movement he takes your chin and angles it up a little, bracketing you against the car until he urges you to actually sit. You comply, more consumed with pushing and pulling at his lips when his hands move to push your legs apart, allowing him to step into place between them. His fingers are thick and burning even beneath the denim of your jeans, and your fingers curl into the line of buttons on his uniform to beg him closer.

Hands sliding to your hips, he moves to press a thick kiss to the pulse in your neck, your head canting to allow him. The sensation sends a bolt of heat down your spine and to the low of your gut, and your bare toes curl nearly to breaking. Heels dig into the warm chrome of the bumper, sheens of perspiration catching over your skin as Ice’s tongue lathes into the salty taste of your skin. It pulls a filthy mewl from you. Your arm slings around his neck, pulling him in and closer—you miss the bulk of whatever has him wrapped into place. The grunt he hisses into your skin jumps through your chest, making you gasp.

His shoulder. You angle back and away, a hand to his drawing him back to you. Beautiful color dusts over his nose. His eyes simmer with lustful light. And despite his best effort, you can see the lingering pain in his expression, the exhaustion in the shadow around his eyes. He looks tired—looks like a man recovering from crashing a taxpayer jet in the middle of the Indian. But there’s something else, something in his expression that you can’t quite put a finger on—something you’ve never seen before.

Swallowing a shallow breath, your fingers gently skip over his collarbone, your hands moving to undo the first few of his buttons. Pushing aside the collar of his shirt and tugging at the undershirt, sure enough—gauze is wrapped beneath his arm, around his barrel in a light brace.

“Ice,” you breathe a little when his fingers brush at the hair sticking to the sweat on your face, “are you really still this sore? How bad is this?" He’s too busy looking at your mouth to catch the worry mottling your eyes, and you’re thankful for that as your heart picks up within your breast, “You didn’t tell me it was this bad.”

“Because it isn’t,” he bites a bit sharply, tongue parting the seam of his lips a little in a greedy, hungry way, “The concussion from the impact was worse than the collarbone. Kept me in Medical for a few days, but really—I’m fine,”

“A concussion? Ice! Are you telling me you’re concussed? You drove us here!”

The look on your face prompts his shrug and the slight eye roll, but you snag his chin and pull his gaze back to yours. Wrinkled, you attempt your most concerned expression, though all you can feel is the fire of his touch flaming through you like a wildfire. “Kazansky—you have to tell me these things.”

He rolls his eyes, heaving a nearly bored sigh. “I tell you the important things.” It’s all he offers.

But his voice is more assured than his expression, and that little something creeps into the light of his eyes. It robs the mirth, muddies the waters of endless gray depth that usually have you tethered to somewhere far away, that doesn’t resemble the world. And then the muscle in his jaw ticks, in a way that isn’t his normal. The beast bucks the chain, and slips into his expression for all of a few seconds.

The crash. It’s still there—fear. Cold, detached fear. It still has him out in that ocean, somewhere, a thousand miles from you. You’ve never seen Ice off his game, never seen him this vulnerable. Watching his tongue fill the pocket of his cheek as his eyes drop from yours, you’ll never forget the bristle of discomfort the moment brings him. Something akin to shame hangs in his posture, skirts in and out of the shaky breath he releases. Tom has always been a barely-held-together pillar of strength, broken in all the ways men who crave control are. But he’d never been afraid.

“Tom,” your hand moves to cup his cheek, and he leans into the contact, and his eyes close. His exhale is much more confident, but he can’t shake the tremble. Not yet. His cold sweat skims into your palm, he’s never this clammy. “Ice. It’s okay—”

“Don’t.”

Nearly instantly Ice’s hands drop from your hips, his expression hard like a child that has been reprimanded. He attempts to take a step back from you, but you beat him to it—leaning forward, you snag the first few open buttons in your fist, tugging him back against your chest with an exaggerated pout about your face. Fist curling around the material, your brows avalanche into a hard line. He plants his feet, head kicked back a little to stare at you, expressionless. More like a man standing in the face of a drill sergeant than a lover. Passive, tolerant. As cold as ice.

Compassion rattles your chest for a minute before the muscle in your jaw ticks, burning with effort to keep your expression checked. “Cut the shit, Ice. You crashing into the ocean is important. Talk to me.” His eyes snap up to you at your use of language, which is very rare, as a minister’s daughter and student of the church. He holds you there, seated on the back of his Chevelle, with the weight of the world. “Ice. Please. Tell me wha—”

“I thought about you,” he takes your face between his hands softly, thumbs gently skipping over your cheeks as he drinks you in, studying with deep, attentive eyes. Your hands move to slowly slip along his forearms, welcoming the contact, and you gently wrap your legs around his hips, drawing him a little closer. “The entire engagement, all I could think about was getting back—coming home, seeing you, and—” In a very rare show of inarticulance he tumbles, gaze dropping as he attempts to rally. Stumbling about unintelligible attempts for a few moments, his eyes close and his head drops.

The moment of weakness won’t last, he won’t let it. And you don’t want him to. Ice has allowed you to see him so unfurled only a few times in your relationship. Carding your fingers through his hair, his hands move to hold you by the shoulders, firmly. Like he doesn’t want to let go. You're about to slip off the car when his hands firm up on your shoulder, softly jerking you to a halt.

“No, please. Stay.”

He pulls you forward for his head to rest against your chest, you feel him inhale the scent of you deeply. Gently sliding your nails along his scalp, you hum a little, exhaling a toe-curling breath. Tears gloss over your vision but you dismiss them. Relish instead in how he nuzzles into the rhythm of your heart, the warmth of your sweater. You can see him drifting, still at sea. Fighting to come back.

The Iceman. While it fits him to a T, it is such a foreign concept. Vulnerable, melting within your very grasp–everything an Iceman isn’t. It’s a power unlike anything you’ve ever known. And there’s nothing more beautiful. Like the slow bleed of the sun to the earth, giving way to night. Holy, magical. Breathless. This is how it is meant to be, between man and woman. Eve taken from Adam, not to be apart from him, but to complete him.

And you will complete him. God will you complete him.

“I love you, Tom Kazansky,” if he’s forgotten who he is, it’s your job to remind him. And it will be, as long as he allows you the privilege. The idea of him thinking about you during engagement sends a thrill through you, and you take one of his hands to draw his palm to your lips, softly. “I love you.” You say it again and again, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

When he lifts his head, a Tom Kazansky you don’t remember stares back at you. His eyes are red and rimmed in shadows. He isn’t guarded in the way you’d expected him to be, but instead, Ice looks as if he’s taken a great breath of fresh air, buoyed. Drunk on your words. For a fraction of a second you see the glint of moisture in his eyes, but it passes when his hand wraps around the back of your neck and forces you into a soft, barely-there kiss.

He sighs against your mouth, tipping his forehead against yours. “I love you.” It’s a statement, not a phrase. Nothing follows, nothing proceeds. Vibrations of it rip through you like a shockwave, his lips brushing over yours lightly as he bips at your bottom lip, wanting. “You keep me alive, fuck you keep me breathing.”

Arms laced behind his neck, your fingers slide through his hairline. He’s hot. Burning up, really, and sharing his head beads sweat across your forehead, in the ravine of your spine. Swallowing each of his breaths, you lazily kiss the corner of his mouth, until he turns to slant his lips over yours, hand roughing against the back of your neck. The other pulls at the front logo of your sweater, and your little sigh against his mouth pulls him back with a thick, wet pop.

Offering him a small smile, your fingers skip over his injured shoulder and up his neck, to cradle his jaw. “You should crash for a few hours, I have to prepare. You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.” That makes him splutter out a tired chuckle, nodding as you slip off the car and take his hand to guide him through the garage, into the house. “Wanna stay for dinner, or are they wanting you back?”

He stops you on the stairs, fingers lacing through your belt hoops to draw you back against his chest. Kissing your neck, his arms slide home around your middle as he takes a breath of your hair, a low moan rolling around the depth of his chest that sounds like “Nowhere to be,” but just makes you chuckle. The words rumble against your spine, before you step forward out of his arms and into the cool house.

Without further prompting the Iceman slips back into the rhythm of your home, as if he never even left.

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