Please, Remember Me

Chapter Twelve - Worship

The next three days were spent very much like that evening. I made up for my three year abstinence for sure.

We were barely clothed at all, we rarely left the bedroom. Once in a while he'd roam down to the kitchen and bring us sustenance, but other than that, the majority of those days were spent in ecstatic bliss, wrapped around each other in every way possible.

I drowned in him and his voodoo, in his heart and smile. He learned every inch of my body and I learned his. We devoured each other with such passion and frequency that I was a bit shocked neither of us ended up in hospital.

We talked in between, we shared our feelings for each other. He spoke words that branded my heart with his name, I told him about how I realized that not only was he the best friend I'd ever had, he was quite possibly the love of my life.

They were big words, huge words, but I meant them with every cell in my body. I couldn't imagine feeling this way about someone and it not being something significant on an almost fundamental level. I was absolutely gone, devoured and changed because of him. How could he not be my one love with all that?

We talked a lot, about things neither of us had shared before. We opened up those last few places in ourselves that we'd kept hidden because of the nature of our relationship as it had been before this moment. I laid the last little bits of myself on the table, handed them over along with my last pieces of trust.

We didn't speak about the future, though, we didn't mention that our time together was limited. We only focused on finally finding each other fully, the fact that we were madly in love and happy to be it.

He was mine and I was his.

If only for a little while.

On the second day of our lovers' hibernation he disappeared downstairs and came back up with a slim box in his hand.

He placed it on my belly, clad in one of his t-shirts, and looked at me expectantly and I sat up to slowly unwrap the white bow around it.

Inside laid a necklace. The intricate details of the locket were formed into a heart, with a C on one side and a Q on the other. It was small and swirly so you had to really look, and know what you were looking for, to find the letters and the heart.

It was stunning, and so completely us that I burst into tears. There was mystery to it, a kind of secrecy that spoke of "I want to only share this with you, because you're who matters" and the fact that we had our thing, C and Q... It just spoke of the entire time we'd had together, even before we knew the other. Those nicknames had come from the very first conversation, and now, nearly eight months later, it proved that something had clicked from the very beginning.

He freaked out at my tears and apologized, saying that he could get me something else. I could understand that. He'd only seen me cry once when he told me he loved me and those were obviously very happy tears. These were unexpected and very sudden, a burst of emotion that even I wasn't anticipating.

I attacked him and made sure he knew exactly how much I fucking loved the gift. He placed it around my neck and kissed the locket where it nestled between my breasts.

I knew I would never take it off.

**

On the third day, at about dinnertime, I had to put a stop to the madness. By that point I'd had more orgasms than I'd probably previously had in my lifetime, put together. I was raw, and tired. But he had his voodoo and had convinced me time and time again to stay in bed, stay in the room, stay in this moment. I'd happily obliged, because fuck me if this wasn't exactly where I wanted to live out the rest of my days. No darkness, no worry or melancholy, only passion, laughter and adoration.