Page 110 of Eternal

His hands roamed up my sides, slow, thumbs stroking the curve of my ribs as he simply lifted my shirt up with so much curiosity, not taking it off completely.

“Don’t you dare flirt again,” I muttered, heat rising in my face.

“Too late,” he murmured, dragging his mouth up the center of my chest. “I wish you could see in my head the things I want to do to you when you’re laid naked like that for me.”

I laughed, I actually laughed. It burst out of me like something I didn’t know I’d been holding in. “You’re such a flirt.”

“And you like it,” he said, nipping at my collarbone.

“I like your mouth when it’s busy,” I said, and then gasped when he bit down.

His hand dipped between my legs, and when he found how wet I already was, he groaned into my neck.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “ Azra… this wet?”

“You’re surprised?” I panted.

“I’m honored, actually.”

He kissed me again, messy, senseless.

His fingers circled, tested, slid, and my hips lifted into his hand like my body had a mind of its own, no shame, no shrinking. It was desire in its purest, darkest form.

He stripped me like he’d done it before, like he’d thought about it, over and over again.

His shirt came off with one hand, bunched behind his neck and dragged over his head. Mine followed, slower, not because he fumbled, but because he looked while doing it, like he needed to memorize how it felt to peel me open.

His eyes didn’t leave mine. Not when his fingers brushed the curve of my waist, not when the hem of my shirt caught at my ribs, not when I gasped at the sudden coolness of the air.

“You're blushing,” he murmured, soft and amused.

“Shut up.”

“ Make me… ” He replied.

I reached for his mouth but he caught my wrist, and then that damn smile curved his lips, the one that made me ache before he even touched me.

And then he did touch me.

With the hand still holding my wrist, he lowered it back down above my head, pinned it there, his other hand slid down between us, between my thighs.

I couldn’t see what he was doing, I could only feel it.

His fingers parted me with aching patience. A slow, teasing stroke that made my hips lift instinctively, and he caught that too, pressing his body harder against mine to keep me in place.

“Stay still, partner ,” he said, that lazy smile never leaving. “You’re gonna want to feel this properly.”

My breath caught as his fingers circled my clit once and I stopped breathing.

“Sensitive?” he asked, head tilting like he didn’t already know.

“Damir…”

“God, you say my name like that again and I’ll come before I even get inside you.”

I laughed… and then gasped again, because that same hand was inside me now, two fingers deep, sliding in slow while his thumb toyed with that spot, he knew had me fucked.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, his forehead pressing to mine. “You knew I’d touch you like this, didn’t you?”

“I hoped .”

He kissed me, hard. His fingers stilled long enough to draw a moan out of me, then started again. That rhythm, lazy, taunting, right at the edge of overwhelming. And all the while, he watched me. “Eyes on me, Azra,” he said.

“I can’t— I can’t when you?—”

“You can,” he cut in, breath warm against my lips. “I want to watch your face when I ruin you.”

I opened my mouth to snap something back, but he curled his fingers again, and I choked on the words.

“That’s it,” he murmured, smirking. “Didn’t need a comeback anyway.”

His cock pressed against my thigh now, hot, heavy, so ready it made my stomach twist.

He pulled his fingers from me slowly, dragging every inch of slick out like he wanted me to feel what he was giving up. Then he licked them clean, without breaking eye contact.

I was panting, my body was already begging for something it wasn’t used to. A touch, a kiss, anything as long as it carried his essence.

“I think you’re ready for me…”

“ Mmhh… You should see for yourself.”

He lined himself up, pressing the tip barely against me, dragging it through the mess he’d made, but he didn’t push in. Not yet.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered. “Suddenly shy?”

He grinned. “Not shy,” he said. “I don’t want to miss the look on your face.”

Long fingers brushed against my scar on the jaw and he smiled again, “Remember it’s for you. Have fun. Don’t think. It’s just you and me.”

Then he thrust in, slow but solid, stealing the air from my lungs.

My back arched. A cry slipped out before I could swallow it.

“ Fuuck ,” he groaned, still watching me like I was a miracle and a crime scene all at once.

He filled me like he had every right to, not rushed, not brutal. Certain . Inch by in, feeling it all.

My hands gripped his arms, his back, whatever I could reach. My legs wrapped tighter around his hips, holding him there, refusing to let him pull back yet.

“You okay?” he asked, but he already knew.

I nodded, barely , and then clenched around him on purpose.

His head dropped to my shoulder with a hiss. “ Fuck… Fuck… ”

And I laughed softly before gasping for air again. He sounded pathetic for me, pathetic for touching me , as if it was a chance.

“You think that’s funny?” he breathed with that same smile.

“A little.”

“Such a brat.”

His mouth was at my throat a second later, tongue dragging across skin like he needed to taste me mid-punishment.

And then he started to move, long, deep thrusts that had me gasping with every drag.

The pace wasn’t punishing, it was perfect.

He wanted me to feel each one of them, to memorize how it felt when he took his time.

“You’re filthy,” he whispered, breath hot in my ear. “And perfect. Look at the way you take me.”

“Hard to look when you’re— oh my god ?—”

He grinned.

One hand braced beside my head, the other dropped between us again, working my clit in tight, wet circles.

“Use your words,” he said. “Tell me what you want.”

“ You .”

“You have me already.”

I was falling apart.

He was naked, sweat glistening along his collarbone, chest heaving while he stayed buried inside me like he didn’t belong anywhere else, and he didn’t. He really didn’t .

The rhythm built, faster now, harder, his hips slapping against mine with sound and heat and hunger. Every thrust angled to make me feel full, destroyed, worshiped.

“Gonna come,” I breathed. “Fuck, Damir, please ?—”

“Yeah?” he panted. “Then give it to me.”

He slammed in deep and stilled, and I broke. I came hard, crying out, clenching around him while my whole body shuddered. Like my brain completely shut down for a second and all I could feel was him. He didn’t move, he held me there while I rode it, kissed me like he owned the tremble in my spine.

Then he started again, relentless now, chasing his own high with sweat and teeth and low, broken groans.

I could feel him getting close, the way his rhythm stuttered, the way his breath caught.

He cursed, pulled out with a growl, and then, his come hit my skin, hot, heavy, ribbed across my stomach like something filthy and sacred at once.

He braced one hand beside my head, panting, staring down at me like I’d undone him, and then he simply watched.

His eyes dropped between my legs, at the mess he’d made of me, at how I was trembling, dying, fucked .

“Look at that,” he muttered, fingers sliding down slowly to part me open and watch the slick stretch between us. “Still leaking for me.”

I reached for him, wrecked and desperate, but he didn’t come down yet. He rocked back on his heels, gaze like a disturbed ocean. “I want to see all of it,” he said. “Every drop.”

Then he leaned in.

His mouth pressed to my stomach, to the mess he’d made, not possession, no hesitation.

His lips dragged through the slick, tongue tasting what we’d made together like he wanted it etched on his memory.

“Don’t look away,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “You need to know what you do to me.”

So I didn’t.

He didn’t stop kissing me.

Even after I was shaking, still gasping from what we’d just done, he stayed there, mouth open against my stomach, then my cunt, tongue dragging through the heat like he couldn’t stand to waste a drop of what we were.

Kisses that traced down until it hit my clit, too sensitive.

“Oh… Again ?”

He looked up at me and smiled, pressing a kiss there, “ Again .”

I carded my fingers through his hair, not trying to guide him anywhere. I needed touch, his skin, his weight. Him .

A lick, a suck, kisses, lazily eating me out and it didn’t take more than a few minutes to feel something building down my stomach, and it hit me again.

“ Damir… ” I breathed, soft, unsure if it was a thank you or a prayer.

He looked up.

Face flushed, mouth slick, blue eyes blown wide with whatever emotion he was still trying to hide. And then he came up over me, crawling slowly, like a man hungry again right after the first bite didn’t do the job.

He kissed me full on the mouth.

I could taste us, and it wrecked me.

His hands were on my waist again, kneading my skin, lifting me slightly to caress my back. I was bare, already marked, still twitching from what he’d done before.

“You think we’re done?” he muttered against my lips.

“I was hoping not.”

“ Good .”

His mouth trailed to my neck, my collarbone. Then lower, and lower , and when I laughed, breathless, at the way he growled when I tugged at his hair, he only bit down harder at my hip.

But then, he stopped, and looked up at me, his voice shifted seriously. “We didn’t use anything.”

A pause. My heart kicked.

He lifted his head, brows drawn together. “I’m sorry. I didn’t bring a condom. I wasn’t thinking—I just ? — ”

And I smiled. “I know,” I said, voice small.

And I did, I knew, but I wasn’t scared, for once I wasn’t scared.

I looked at him, at the sweat on his chest, the mess between my legs, the worry in his eyes that wasn’t about him, but about me . The way his hands still held me like I could break.

“I’m clean,” I murmured. “And I have an IUD.”

He relaxed a little, not all the way. Just enough to breathe.

But I didn’t tell him the rest. The part I never say out loud.

That it wouldn’t have mattered.

That something broke years ago and never healed right, scar tissue and silence, pain I never had words for, doctors I never saw, things that happened when I was too young and too alone, and no one noticed what was taken until it was too late.

I didn't want to see the look on his face if I said it. That this moment could probably never make a life.

I didn’t even want to think about it, because I was in his arms, under his touch, and all I wanted was for him to keep making me feel normal and okay.

But his jaw flexed, then eased, still watching me like he was memorizing every blink. Then he said it, rough again. “Okay, I can continue.” He dragged me to the edge of the bed so my legs hung off, and dropped to his knees.

“Damir…”

“Let me ruin you, partner .”

His mouth was on me again before I could breathe.

This time it was slow, leisurely, like he had all night to taste everything. And when I came again, on his tongue, legs shaking against his shoulders, he only laughed into me.

“Still think we’re done?”

“ Fuck you .” I breathed almost laughing at myself.

“You will, I promise.”

And I did, twice more, against the door, and again, later, with my knees over his shoulders and the whole room smelling like heat and want and home .

I must’ve fallen asleep at some point, or blacked out.

Whatever it was, it came with my head against his chest, my limbs thrown across his body like I never wanted to be anywhere else. And I didn’t, not now, not ever .

His fingers were dragging absently through my hair, slow and calm like he didn’t want to wake me up. Like he was touching just for the sake of touching, because he could.

I pressed a kiss to his collarbone and he stilled.

“Still awake?” I asked, voice hoarse, spent.

“You think I could sleep after that?” he murmured, his hand drifting to my spine, thumb brushing along the curve of it. “You’re literally imprinted into my goddamn bones.”

I laughed, weak but warm, then I lifted my head to look at him. His eyes weren’t teasing anymore, they were soft.

We lay there, breathless and tangled, the quiet breathing between us loud, but comfortable.

His hands found mine and lifted them gently to rest on his chest, and my fingers spread, tracing the steady beat of his heart beneath my skin.

He smiled tenderly at me and spoke. “I promised you I’d keep them warm tonight,” he murmured as his lips brushed the top of my head, soft as a confession.

Then, careful and deliberate, he shifted me around, cradling me close, arms wrapping me in a cage I didn’t want to escape.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for trusting me.”

I closed my eyes, breath soft, heart full. “As long as you stay,” I whispered back, words barely there as sleep pulled me under.

His arms tightened once more, and that was the last thing I felt, the tender warmth of him holding me, like I was finally home .