I'll wait for you (Dayasco)

The finale

-light smut-

His hands trailed down my body, over my stomach and to my chest. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, and I couldn't help the gasp that escaped my lips. He chuckled softly, a knowing sound that made me shiver. "So sensitive," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

I nodded, my eyes fluttering closed. His touch was electric, sending shockwaves through me. He took one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking gently. My back arched off the bed, a silent plea for more. He complied, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

Our bodies tangled together, a dance of passion that had been building for months. His hands roamed, exploring every inch of my skin as if he'd never seen it before. The warmth of his palms against my breasts was a sweet agony, and I couldn't help the whimper that escaped me.

Daya's hands traveled lower, slipping under the waistband of my shorts. His fingers danced over my skin, teasing me, making me beg for his touch. He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

I nodded, unable to speak. The anticipation was killing me, my body screaming for his touch. He kissed me again, deep and desperate, as he slid my shorts down my legs. His fingers found their way where I wanted him most, and I moaned into his mouth, my body trembling.

He teased me, his touch feather-light, until I was writhing beneath him. And then, with one firm stroke, he sent me over the edge. My body convulsed, pleasure flooding through me like a tidal wave. "Daya," I gasped, my nails digging into his back.

He pulled away, his eyes searching mine. "I want to be inside you," he said, his voice a mix of desperation and tenderness. "But I don't want to hurt you."

I nodded, my breath coming in pants. "It's okay," I murmured. "I'm ready."

He positioned himself, his eyes never leaving mine. With a gentle push, he entered me, filling me up in a way that was both familiar and brand new. We moved together, our bodies syncing up like two puzzle pieces that had finally found their match.

Our love-making was slow and sweet, a gentle reaffirmation of our commitment to each other. Every thrust, every kiss, every touch was a promise of forever. I felt like I was floating, lost in a sea of pleasure that only Daya could navigate.

And when he finally came, his body shuddering with release, I felt a sense of completion that I hadn't known was possible. He collapsed onto me, his breath hot against my neck. "I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

"I love you too," I murmured back, my body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

We lay there, our hearts racing, our bodies entwined. The fight from the night before felt like a distant memory, erased by the love that we'd just shared.

As the room grew dark, the only sound was the steady rhythm of our breathing. And in that moment, I knew that no matter what the future held, we'd face it together. Our love was a beacon in the darkness, guiding us through the storm.

And as we drifted off to sleep, the weight of the world lifted from our shoulders, we knew that we had each other, and that was all that mattered.

The next few days passed in a blur of happiness. We talked about the future more than we ever had, sharing our fears and dreams, our hopes and insecurities. It was like we were discovering each other all over again, peeling back the layers to reveal the raw, vulnerable truth beneath.

Daya's nightmares became less frequent, and when they did come, he no longer woke up in a cold sweat, but rather, in the warm embrace of my arms. Each time, I'd whisper soothing words, and together we'd chase the shadows away until the sun rose to greet us with a new day.

I put bio oil on him every day, and his scars began to fade, they no longer defined him, rather they were a story he could tell to those he trusted the most.

We decided to take a weekend trip to the beach, a place where we could escape the stress of the city, the steakhouse and my writing and just be together. The salty air kissed our skin as we held hands and walked along the shore, the waves crashing against the sand like a symphony composed just for us.

The hotel room was simple but elegant, with a large king-sized bed that swallowed us whole each night. We made love and each time it seemed to reach new heights, as we learned every line and crease of eachothers bodies. I knew what he liked, what he loved and what he didn't.

The days were filled with laughter and sunscreen, the gentle caress of the ocean breeze and the taste of saltwater on our lips. We built sandcastles that were washed away by the tide or knocked over by Daya's foot, and watched the sunsets that painted the sky with hues of pink and gold.

But as much as we enjoyed the carefree days, the nights were our sanctuary. We'd lie in bed, the sound of the ocean lulling us into a peaceful slumber. It was there, in the quiet darkness, that we'd talk about our futures, about the life we wanted to build together.

We talked about kids, and the names we'd give them, about the house we'd buy with the white picket fence and the dog that would bark at the mailman. We talked about the places we'd travel to, the memories we'd make, and the love that would only grow stronger with each passing day.

And when the weekend came to an end, we didn't want to leave our little haven. But we knew that reality was waiting for us, and we had to face it, hand in hand.

As we drove back to the city, the horizon stretched out before us, a canvas of possibility. We had each other, and that was all we needed. We'd face whatever came our way, together, as a team.

Because in the end, love isn't about being perfect, or having all the answers. It's about holding on tight, even when the storms come, and knowing that you're not alone. And as we pulled into our driveway, the lights of the apartment beckoning us home, I knew that no matter what the future held, we'd weather it together.