Isn't it confusing, what first love does to a man?
Story where Alexine is Soldier Boy's first love and rekindle after many years apart.
[UNGOING]
[Warnings; smut, angst, torture, mention of torture, trauma, physical abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse...
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(This will discuss the heavy topic of SA, self harm, if you are not comfortable with it, please wait for the next chapter and I'm very concerned that you've made it that far on the fiction.)
Alexine woke up to the weight of Benjamin's head resting on her chest, his body warm against hers. They hadn't made love the night before. His exhaustion was overwhelming, and his body still betrayed him with moments of dysfunction. She didn't dwell on it, though. Her mind was filled with other thoughts—Belle, her daughter, the need to bring her back. No matter what had happened, she had to get her child back.
But as she lay there, her fingers softly braiding a small strand of Benjamin's hair, her thoughts shifted. She looked down at him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the gnawing need inside her stirred. It was raw, consuming. A hunger, not just for his touch but for him. To be held under the weight of his body, to hear his breath hitch with need, to feel their skin come together like it was meant to. She longed to kiss away the pain that lingered in his soul, to strip away the hurt with every press of her lips, every whisper of her touch.
She wanted to give herself to him completely, to offer her body as a sanctuary where he could lose himself and find solace. If only it were that simple. If only she could heal his brokenness with the warmth of her skin against his.
Her body shifted beneath him, trying to move without waking him, but it was enough to stir him. His eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep, and his hand brushed across hers. His touch, even in its gentleness, sent a spark through her.
"Morning, sunshine," he mumbled, voice rough with sleep, but there was something in it that made her stomach flip.
"Morning, baby," she whispered back, her lips trailing softly over his neck, brushing against the skin in slow, open-mouthed kisses. His breath hitched, a soft groan escaping him as his hand moved to cover hers.
With a sudden motion, he rolled on top of her, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was all fire and desperation, like he'd been waiting for this. His lips parted hers, and their tongues met, tangled in a mess of heat. She felt him push deeper into the kiss, his hand gripping her jaw, keeping her in place as if he needed to possess her, to claim this moment.
"You used to be so fucking horny in the mornings, how do you fare now?" he murmured against her lips, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yes.." "Oh, yes? That ain't an answer." He smirked too, his hand slid down her body, tracing her neck, her chest, her waist, the touch so fleeting, it drove her mad. Every caress left her aching, a dull fire building in her lower belly, her skin prickling with need. Her voice came out softer than she intended, breathless, raw.
"How's the cock situation, my darling?" She didn't mean it to sound crude—it was honest, vulnerable, wrapped in the intimacy they shared. But she saw the flicker of something in his eyes, a flash of insecurity he tried to mask with a smile.
