Page 109 of Eternal

AZRA

“Speak Softly Love” by Andy Williams

Present

I wanted this. Him . Like this.

“I’ve been waiting for this…” he murmured.

“You always this dramatic when you get laid, Damir,” I managed between kisses.

He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, his lips were swollen, his smile lazy. “You haven’t been laid by me yet,” he replied.

“Confident.”

“ Desperate ,” he corrected, voice rough now. “You sure, right?”

It’s him. It’s him. It’s him.

Close your eyes. Breathe. Remember.

“I trust you,” I whispered.

His hand paused on my cheek, then slid to my neck, holding me like something precious, not breakable, just real . Solid.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” he said. “I just want this to be good for you. Only you .”

I tried to smile, I did, but I could already feel it.

That old shame pressing down on my chest, the hum in my ears, the part of me that started counting seconds before anything even began, the way it hurt .

I swallowed hard.

Please don’t think about it. Please don’t see the ghosts.

“Damir… Don’t… think about it.”

“About what?” His voice was careful, like stepping through glass.

“My past. This isn’t the first time since… everything .” My voice shook. “But it’s the first time I want to feel it.”

He closed his eyes for a second, like the words hurt and healed him all at once.

“I don’t want you to think I need this to want you,” he said.

“I wanted you when you laughed the first time you bruised my lips during our first fight. I wanted you when you couldn’t look me in the eye because I was shamelessly flirting with you.

When you were angry. When you were okay. It was never your body.”

He wants me when I’m okay. He wants me when I’m more than just pain.

“I think… I think I’m healing,” I whispered. “And I want to remember this. Not forget it.”

He didn’t move, he stayed there, his thumb brushed under my eye like he knew a tear might come or maybe already had.

“You can stop anytime,” he said. “You don’t have to push through anything for me.”

“I know,” I said, and I meant it.

I can stop it now. I have the choice…

But then I nodded too fast, trying to prove something to myself.

It’s him. It’s safe. You’re not there anymore .

And still my body tensed before he even touched it, and I hated that.

“I feel… stupid,” I breathed. “I want this so bad, and my brain’s still screaming like I’m back there.”

“You’re not stupid,” he said immediately, serious now. “You’re here, you’re safe. And we go slow, or we stop.”

I nodded again, slower this time. His hands didn’t rush. His eyes didn’t stray.

I’d had sex before. Technically .

I’d had bodies on top of mine, around mine, in rooms I don’t remember clearly because I’d left myself behind the second their hands touched my skin.

I dissociated so well, I used to think it was a skill. Like vanishing on cue was something to be proud of.

But this... this wasn’t that.

His eyes stayed on mine, searching like he was afraid to miss even the smallest shift in my breath.

“I need to hear it,” he said, voice low. “Not because I don’t believe you. But because I want you to believe it yourself .”

My throat tightened. I almost couldn’t speak, but I nodded. “I want this,” I whispered. “I just… I’m scared I won’t feel it the way I’m supposed to.”

He didn’t look away. “Then tell me how you do want to feel. You get to choose that now.”

God . How long had I been waiting for someone to say that?

“Like I’m normal. And you… You always made me feel like I was a person. Not a past .”

A soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, not smug, just warm. “You’re cute when you say things like that.”

His hands hadn’t even moved lower, but my body was already bracing for something it had never been allowed to want .

“Stop it,” I laughed almost, softly.

Cute . He called me cute…

I swallowed hard and blinked up at him. “I always wanted it to be you .”

His eyes softened immediately. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to say that.”

“But I’m scared.” My voice cracked. “Not of you. Just of… not being able to stay here. In this room. With you .”

He nodded, brushing his fingers over my temple like he could smooth the noise in my head. “If you don’t want this,” he said gently, “I’ll get us pizza or make you a giant bowl of yogurt and cereal, like you like it. We’ll watch something stupid and I’ll rub your back like an old man.”

That made me laugh, a real breathy laugh that surprised both of us. He smiled, eyes still on mine. “It’s not about what we do. It’s you . I just want you. ”

And maybe that’s when it hit me, that this could be something different. That it was .

I looked at him for a long second, my heart racing for reasons I couldn’t name. I reached for his hand, brought it to my chest and held it there.

“I want you to touch me,” I whispered. “But I want it to feel like this . Like it’s mine too. Like I’m not being used. Like I’m yours. ”

He leaned in, his lips just brushing mine. “You are,” he said softly. “You’ve been mine since the first time you laughed at one of my terrible attempts to seduce you.”

My eyes stung. “Then make it okay. Make me okay.”

He came closer, pressing his forehead gently to mine. And just like that, something broke open in me. I wasn’t frozen, I wasn’t gone , I was right here, in my own skin, in his arms.

“Kiss me, now.”

And he did, deeper this time, slower. His tongue danced against mine sensually, like he meant to make up for every time he hadn’t kissed me.

I curled my leg around his waist again, grinding up into him just to hear him hiss through his teeth.

“Keep doing that,” he muttered against my throat, “and I’m not going to last long enough to show you half the things I’ve imagined doing to you.”

“You imagined it?” I teased, smiling against his jaw.

He bit my shoulder, not hard, but shy almost. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

He stilled, his hand slid down, found my thigh, and gripped. “Say that again.”

“Make. Me ,” I repeated, quieter now, more honest.

He sat back on his knees, dragging me up with him, so I ended up straddling his lap, his hand wrapped around the back of my neck, not rough, just… there .

“ Partner ?” he murmured. “You think I haven’t stared at your mouth and thought about shutting you up with my fingers, with my cock, with anything that would make you stop smiling at me like you knew how much I wanted you?”

I blinked, probably blushing too hard at the way he easily expressed his thoughts.

“You’re very loud all of a sudden,” I said weakly.

“That’s because I finally get to stop pretending I don’t want you.”

His hand slid lower, over my stomach, between my legs.

“And you don’t want soft .”

“ No ,” I whispered.

“You want brutal .”

I nodded. This is mine . My anger, my pain, my body, not my demons, not the past.

“You want me to fuck you like I’ve been mad at you since the day we met.”

“Because you have been,” I said, smirking again.

He laughed, dark and broken. “And so have you.”

His hand trailed down, knuckles skimming under the hem of my shirt, slow, patient. No sudden movements. Just feeling. Like he wanted to memorize the map of me before crossing any borders.

I tensed when his hand slid lower… there , where my skin was still inked with old pain.

His thumb brushed over the scars. And he stopped immediately. Didn’t pull back, didn’t ask. Just… paused.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, almost too quiet. “Just… don’t make it a thing.”

He nodded once, then kissed the inside of my thigh with so much care it almost made me cry “Not a thing,” he said against my skin. “Just you .”

I let out a shaky breath, and for the first time in my life, my whole life, I didn’t feel like I had to disappear to survive a touch like this.

I didn’t brace for pain, I didn’t flinch, I wanted more.

I sucked in a breath, spine arching into him.

His mouth moved back up my thigh, his hands tightening again, back to hunger, but now it was mixed with another feeling. Worship .

“You still want rough?” he asked against my hip. “Still want to be ruined?”

“You promised,” I whispered.

Maybe if it’s rough, I’m in control, it hurts, but it’s my pain this time. Mine .

Soft always felt like what I lost. Brutal feels like power.

I want to feel real, not numb. To know I’m still here, still fighting.

He pulled me back down to the bed, this time rolling with me, dragging his mouth across my jaw and back to my lips. “Then let go, partner .”

“Make me,” I said again, and this time, he did.

He leaned in and kissed me, his hand cradled the side of my face like I might vanish if he held me wrong.

And fuck . He kissed like someone who didn’t just want me, he kissed like someone who knew me. Like someone who had watched me fall more times than I could count and had waited until I was ready to let go on purpose.

My fingers tangled in his hair before I realized I was doing it. My whole body moved without permission, legs curling around his waist like my skin had been waiting for his all along.

He chuckled against my mouth, low and warm. A sound I’d never heard from him before but wanted to hear again. And again, and again .

It was happy, soft, and satisfying.

“What?” I asked, smiling because I couldn’t not.

He pulled back to look at me, his pupils were blown wide, “Just thinking how confident you sound for someone who’s shaking.”

“You’re the one trembling,” I shot back, though it came out breathier than I meant.

“I’ve been trying not to touch you for months,” he said. “You think I’m not going to lose it a little?”

“Makes me want to make you wait some more,” I said, chuckling.

He laughs against my skin. And fuck, it’s so him . That cocky, quiet rasp of amusement he always gives me when I talk shit. Except now, it’s paired with his hand tugging my shirt up over my ribs, teeth grazing my collarbone.

“You’re not going to be so mouthy when I’m done with you,” he says.

“Try me.”