I refuse to post anything schmaltzy about my husband on social media with people we actually know in real life for many reasons, so tumblr, I apologize, but I just need to say it and this is the closest thing I have to a diary.
I'm really, head-over-heels, struck dumb in love with my husband.
And I don't believe in astrology, or fate, or religion, or anything like that, but hot damn...lady fortune was quite generous with me in the realm of love.
This past year, I was the lowest I've ever been; depressed and overwhelmed with grief and he just knew every step of the way how to love me. How to keep me in my body. In the present. In the past when I needed to be. Looking forward when the past was pulling me down.
And not only that, but I knew, deeply, without question that I could grieve. I had the space. I had the time. I had the gift of grieving, because I knew he could handle our life and me with care and competence and grace.
And that trust proved to be so well-founded.
He wasn't pitying or saccharine or impatient. He wasn't my caretaker but he took care of me, and our son, and our life.
And he saw me. He sees me, and nothing about me has him shying away. And he's always been that way, and I never expected less of him, but this year has me really appreciating his unwavering gaze to a heightened degree.
I am very aware, now more than ever, what a precious, rare gift it is to be seen and loved and to be able to love like this and I don't ever want to take it for granted.
----
TL;DR: Life is really fucking hard, and love really is the only thing that matters in the end.
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Hello, I'm in love with all of your fics and have lost count in how many times I've reread them. I just finished rereading Something Old, Something New and just wondering if I may request a sweet spicy one based on this fic? Maybe their first time? Pretty please?
Gil wakes up first. It's dark, his tv having shut itself off in its neglect. Their takeout is sitting out, abandoned. The ice cream is the only thing they actually finished.
They got back a matter of hours ago. The bags are still in the car, since he himself said that they could just leave them for later. He was eager to get out of the car, stretch out and lie down, hold Thena in his arms.
Thena is still asleep, curled up against him like they've always slept together--like it's the most natural thing in the world. He certainly feels like it is, feeling the rise and fall of her chest and how he can hold her so perfectly.
He can feel something else, too.
He sighs, resting his head on the armrest of the couch. His neck is going to be killing him tomorrow, he knows (they're not as young as they used to be). But it's not that. It's the familiar ache between his legs, not quite there, not quite gone either.
He knows he just woke up, but still, it's not exactly morning either.
Thena somehow feels that he's awake and shifts on top of him, between his legs. Her arm - previously trapped between his back and the couch, slithers out and over his chest.
Gil blinks. He had been planning to sneak up and use the bathroom (alleviate his little issue). But Thena's fingers hook into the v-neck of his t-shirt and pull him. He didn't think she was awake, but she pulls him down so the first thing she can do when her head lifts off his chest is kiss him.
They both taste like ice cream.
Thena smiles as they part, blinking at him owlishly in the dark of his living room. "Hi."
He forgets his little problem as soon as she looks at him. His hands settle onto her back again. "Hi."
Thena tilts her head, her chin resting on her hand resting on his chest. "When did we fall asleep?"
Gil grunts, reaching for his phone on the coffee table. He has over 20 missed calls and texts, all from work, demanding to know how and why he's just quit on them out of the blue. His 'I quit' text was sent two hours ago. "Not long, maybe an hour."
Thena sighs, undeniably sated from just their brief little nap. "We can't make this couch thing a habit, you know."
Gil grins at her. The memory of her pulling him against her on the couch of the vacation house is still vivid in his mind. How could it not be? "Hey, that first time wasn't my fault."
"You're the one who fell asleep on me."
"You lured me into it," he argues, having far too much fun with it, too. He taps his fingers along her arms. "All soft and warm--and wearing perfume."
"I wasn't-" she starts to deny but he knows she was, and she knows that he knows it too. A car drives by outside and he catches a glimpse of a vivid pink in her cheeks.
He kisses her, unable to resist the temptation. Not when she's in his arms, looking as beautiful as she is. She kisses him back like it's second nature. They've become very good at this in the very short time they've been doing it. Must be because they're so good together.
"Gil," Thena lets out a little sigh, shifting on top of him to reach him better--kiss him deeper, more easily. She moves up and closer, her knee brushing between his legs as she moves on the couch.
Ah yes, his little issue.
Gil grunts, trying to hold her at bay while not pushing so hard as to make her feel rejected. "H-Hang on, Sweetheart, I gotta-"
"What?" she whispers, continuing to kiss him, continuing to lie on top of him with her breasts pushes against his ribs. Her arm comes up, letting her fingers trace over his cheek. "You have to what?"
"Thena," he grumbles, because he swears she knows what she does to him. His face is burning hot. "Can I not romance you?"
"I don't need romance," she laughs quietly, and her voice feels loud for how close it is. But she's whispering. He is too. The room is quiet except for them and their whispers and their laboured breaths. "Just you, Gil."
God, he loves this woman.
Thena moves gently against him, slowly and softly, but definitely encouraging him to harden fully against her. She rolls her hips, and he feels the little flat plane of her tight white skirt move against the bulge in his jeans.
"Thena, please," he groans, and it sounds whiny in his ears.
But Thena leans drags her teeth against his earlobe. "Please, what, Gilgamesh?"
She will be the death of him.
"Tease," he growls as she shimmies, her hand slipping down between them to undo his button and zip. His hands have somehow made their way to her skirt, pulling the tight material up her thighs. "This isn't how I imagined this."
"Me neither," she breathes a little heavier as he tests if she's as eager as she's telling him she is. She is. "But does it matter?"
Maybe it doesn't. Maybe she knows him too well--knows that he would just get himself worked up over this anyway. She knows that he would worry about making their first time together perfect.
But she's right: he just needs her.
Gil groans as she helps him push into her. It's not a bed covered in rose petals, or in front of a roaring fire. It's not even dinner and drinks. But it's him, and it's Thena, and it's his couch with a flimsy blanket thrown over them. And it's perfect for that.
"Gil," she moans as she starts moving, her on top of him, moving slowly and sweetly in the dark. She doesn't move too far away--eager to kiss him as she moves.
He's just as eager, moving his lips with every stroke. He holds her, hands under her partially unbuttoned cardigan and holding her waist. Her skin is heated, and he hopes her heart is beating as feverishly as his. "Thena."
He shifts them, and she responds to it easily and happily. He wraps his arm around her, thrusting lazily and gently. She meets his hips with hers, every time. She kisses him, her hair spilling around his face freely. He doesn't have a problem with it so long as he can still get glimpses of that beautiful face.
"Gil," she whimpers as he changes angle again, picking up speed a little. She flinches around him, and he realises their hearts have both skipped a beat. Her nails dig into his chest a little.
He kisses her more desperately. His hands move from her back down. He grips her hips more tightly, presses her closer with each move. One hand moves down to cup a cheek.
Thena gasps against his open mouth, tongues tangled up messily. "Gil!"
It's sudden, and it's not momentous or life-changing. But it's beautiful, and it's soft, and that's all he wants. It's them together, in the quiet and the dark, kissing as they meld together with no end to one before the beginning of the other.
Gil pants for breath under her, his head tilted back, looking up at the ceiling of his living room. Thena buries her face in his throat, kissing his adam's apple as she rides out her high. His hand comes up to her head, over her hair. "Wow."
"Hm," she lets out quietly, and it sounds like so many things--satisfied, content, maybe a little amused. "Wow?"
"Sorry," he huffs, blushing again. "I usually like to plan my romance."
"You can romance me next time," she promises him, also dragging in air after their impromptu little love-making session.
"In a bed?"
"If you like."
Gil laughs, and soon she's laughing too. Because it's new - like, brand-fucking-new - but it also feels familiar. Because it's Thena. He lifts his head up to look at her. "Will you wear perfume for it?"
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