Page 112 of Unrequited

We’re newlyweds on a honeymoon.

We had a beautiful wedding.

There’s no one chasing us, no shadows clawing at our heels.

No enemies who want us dead.

Just peace. Just us.

Safe, finally. Blessedlysafe.

But then the memories come flooding back. Dreams that felt too real to just be dreams.

I saw an angry Irishman dragging him away from me.

I screamed, reached for him, and begged, but they wouldn’t let me.

Rafail. Stern, stone-faced, and shaking his head like I’d disappointed him. Like he was already mourning something inevitable.

Seamus sighs and moves. It’s just a small shift, the slow drag of his thick, calloused palm down the curve of my hip, but it starts something in me.

A chain reaction.

My body remembers his touch. Remembers everything we did. And I respond before I can think.

He kisses the base of my neck softly, and I tilt my head back without thinking. My eyes flutter shut.

We don’t speak.

We don’t need to.

We move like this isn’t new, as if he didn’t take my virginity just two nights ago.

Like our bodies already know each other, like they’ve always known.

He rolls me onto my back, his body covering mine like a shield. I feel the weight of him, the length of his erection pressing against my belly. He cups my face, so gently, it’s like he’s scared to break me.

And then he presses down, slow and deep, his cock throbbing against me.

This isn’t about power or control or domination.

This isn’t a lesson in obedience.

This is something else entirely.

Something sweet, aching and wordless.

We say everything with our bodies because the words would shatter the moment.

I love you.

You are my safe place.

You complete me.

We breathe in tandem.

His mouth finds mine, his tongue sweeps inside, and we kiss like we’ve got forever.