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Author of 10 Stories |
This is my very first fanfiction, inspired by a pairing that I love, Hitsugaya Toshirou & Hinamori Momo.
Warnings: spoilers for the Soul Society arc, and rated for mature content.
All comments and feedback are much appreciated!
February 2008: Heavily edited for grammar and context. None of the content has been changed, only mistakes. It's still the same story, but with a bit more finesse. Also, the original 3-chapter setup has been condensed into a one-shot, because it works better that way.
I'd wipe away all of your tears.
When you'd scream;
I'd fight away all of your fears.
I've held your hand through all of these years,
And you still have all of me.
The Storm
She had always hated nights like this. The storm outside was relentless, rain pounding against the window, the wind howling. The frequent flashes of lightning, always followed by booming thunder, made her want to scream. There was once a time when she could find comfort from the storm, a safe haven from the world and all of its uncertainty. But not tonight, not this storm…not anymore.
She stared out the window into the chaos of the night; eyes focused on nothing, the blanket around her shoulders doing little to keep out the chill. The storm raging inside her heart was no less brutal, and tonight there was no hiding from either of them.
She wanted to escape from the nightmare, but she couldn't forget. There were times when she wished she had died rather than face this pain…rather died than people she cared about being hurt. Blindly, she had let herself be used. Foolishly she had believed… such horrible things. And ultimately, she had turned on the person she cared about most.
An image of his face flashed through her mind, bewildered by her words, confusion and hurt in his eyes as she held Tobiume to his throat, ready to kill him for what she believed he'd done. Her dearest friend, who had only ever tried protect her. He had almost died because of her.
Shiro-chan…
She was drowning in her own guilt, in memories that constantly replayed themselves in her mind. Her captain's face, so warm and kind. His gentle dark eyes, her name on his lips. Her overwhelming joy at seeing him alive, being held in his arms as she cried with relief. He whispered it was all alright…and then the pain, all consuming, the shock as she saw his sword in her chest, blood staining her hakama. She looked into his face. He was smiling, but the warmth in his eyes was gone…and then there was only darkness.
A sudden flash of lightning nearly made her jump out of her skin, and she gasped aloud into the empty darkness of her room as the deafening sound of thunder rang in her ears. She pulled the blanket tighter around her thin shoulders as a solitary tear ran down her cheek.
She didn't deserve it, the second chance at life…the understanding they all showed her since she'd woken up. Kira-kun…Shiro-chan…why didn't they hate her? She couldn't stand to see the pity in everyone's eyes. And the worry, about her condition, about the stability of her mind… She wished she had never woken up.
The darkness hadn't lasted long. It was followed by nightmares, horrible visions she couldn't escape. The sound of screaming, a familiar voice so full of rage, calling her name in fear…the sounds of battle, of wicked laughter. And all the while she saw his face… Aizen Taichou…smiling as the blood trickled down her chest. He had betrayed her, used her in the worst possible way. She had wanted to die, to sink into the darkness…anything to escape the horror of that day. Why hadn't she simply faded into that welcoming nothingness?
A voice…calling to her…pleading…
A warm hand, holding hers…
A soft, tender voice …asking her to hold on…to come back…
His voice…
Her Shiro-chan…
No. Not her Shiro-chan, not anymore. She lost the right to call him that when she turned on him, her closest and oldest friend, turned her back on the memories they shared, all of the times he had been there for her. He had always held her hand, and she would never forgive herself for betraying him.
The storm continued to rage, and she wanted so badly to hide from it, like she used to do when she was young and afraid, wanted to run to that familiar place where she knows she would be safe.
That place she could never go back to.
When she had woken up he had been holding her hand, his face over hers as he brushed the hair from her brow. The look in his eyes, so relieved, she had almost thought she saw…She will never forget the look on his face as he whispered her name, welcoming her back. His face…so much older than before. How long had she been lost in that darkness?She would find out later that is had been years since that day, and that he had never given up, never lost hope for her. Why? After what she had done, what she had accused him of…
She didn't deserve him, she knew that. She didn't want him to waste any more of his time on her. So she had pushed him away. She had told Captain Unohana that she no longer wanted him to visit her. She had wept at the sound of his voice calling to her from the other side of her hospital room door, pleading with her in that stubborn, abrasive way to just talk to him.
When she had been released from the 4th Division's care she had contemplated leaving Soul Society altogether, to escape the feelings and memories she found in every corner. And to escape him. To hide from the hurt in his eyes, hurt she had put there. Again. In the end it was Tobiume who convinced her to stay, and remain a Shinigami. But right now she still didn't know if she was up to that task.
Eventually he left her alone, stopped trying to talk to her, stopped asking for an explanation she couldn't give him. It hurt her deeply to force him out of her life like that, after all the years they spent as constant companions. But it was better than seeing the look in his eyes…
So she watched him from afar, silently amazed at the man he has become. She had always been so proud of him, her brilliant Shiro-chan. And now he had truly become what he was always meant to be, and to her it was bittersweet. He was so different now. Tall, strong, fully grown into himself and his potential. Yet he was still the same somehow. Still so serious, with a mind ahead of his years. He had never really been young, even when his body had still been that of a child's. And now…No, she wouldn't let herself think of that. He had always been so protective of her, even from the silliest things. And it had almost gotten him killed.
Aizen…had betrayed them all. Betrayed her, betrayed her trust. Played on her childish feelings. She had adored him, he had been her hero. Idolized. Admired. Loved…
No…
It was all a lie. She never loved him. Never admired him. Because truthfully, she had never even known him. It was all a manipulation, a game. Nothing she ever felt for him was real.
Not like…
Her heart skipped a beat as the realization hit her, and her eyes weledl with tears. The blanket dropped to the floor as her hand covered her open mouth. All of these years… but she had never allowed herself to reflect and acknowledge it, ignoring her feelings, burying them in her subconscious. Aizen had been the distraction, making her forget the truth she has somehow always known. She was truly a fool.
He was her hero…
It was him she admired…
It was him she needed…
It was him she loved.
She didn't bother to put on her sandals as she ran out the door into the storm.
He was always comfortable in a storm. In fact, he wondered if he might actually be having an effect on it. Even before he had awakened Hyourinmaru he could sense and sometimes manipulate the weather, particularly when he was upset.
This would probably be one of those times.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips and he ran his fingers through his spiky silver hair. His face was strained and there are dark circles under his eyes. He knew this because his lieutenant told him so, but he really didn't care. He never slept well anymore; his mind was too full of thoughts and memories. Sometimes he felt as though he hasn't truly slept in years, not since that day…
There was another loud boom of thunder and he looked to the window as lightning flashed outside, illuminating the blackness. His garden was flooding.
He thought of her, of how she was always afraid during these kinds of storms. Was she afraid now? He remembered when they were children, when she would come running into his room, climb into his bed and curl up next to him, wanting someone to protect her from the night. He had always wanted to protect her, to save her, from everyone, from everything. But he had failed her.
He stood suddenly and paced the room, his mind racing, his anger building. He had always watched over her, even from the smallest things. Unnecessary, he knew, but he couldn't help it. She was the only thing in the world that truly mattered to him. He would sell his soul to protect her, even die to protect her. He almost had died.
But he couldn't save her. From the worst thing that ever happened to her, he was unable to protect her, and too weak to avenge her.
He still had nightmares about that day, when he saw her lying there, bleeding out upon the cold floor, the look of shock frozen on her face. Dying. Aizen's sword covered in her blood. He had been filled with a rage and pain that he had never known was possible. But in the end he had been too weak…
He stopped pacing and slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a gaping hole to mark his frustration. His eyes were bright with anger and regret.
Aizen…no matter what it takes, no matter what he had to do…Aizen would die for this.
He leaned his head against the wall next to the hole he made, feeling as though his anger and frustration would tear him apart.
After that day, when he woke up in the hospital and heard that she was still alive, he had never felt so much relief. She was alright. She would come back to him. But she wasn't alright. She was trapped in a prison of her own making, Unohana had told him as he watched her sleeping. She was haunted by Aizen's betrayal. She had lost the will to live. Her face was so pale, her body so weak and frail he thought his heart would break just looking at her. It was his fault, because he hadn't been strong enough.
He sat by her side, day after day, speaking to her his most private thoughts, holding her hand, willing her to live, to come back to him. But then days had turned into months, months into years. He continued to sit by her side whenever he could, and when he couldn't he had thought of her constantly, waiting for the 4th division to give him any news.
It was during this time that he realized he loved her. He had always loved her in his own way. He had been jealous of her adoration of Aizen. He had wanted to be better than him, to make her look at him that way. But almost losing her had made him realize how truly precious she was to him. He needed her. He didn't want to live without her.
…Hinamori…
He remembered the day she woke up like it was yesterday. He had been noticing how shrunken and pale she had become, a shadow of her former vibrant beautiful self. He had no idea what to do anymore to bring her back to him. It was only a matter of time, they said, before her body stopped fighting. Before she wasted away and was lost to him forever. He had never felt so helpless.
Then she had opened her eyes.
Her beautiful brown eyes had looked up at him and he wanted to tell her everything right there and then, wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her how much he had missed her, how much he needed her, that he would never let her go again.
But he knew it would be too much for her to take. The trauma of that day would have to be dealt with; she still didn't know the full details, the extent of Aizen's betrayal, or what had happened afterward. She would have to adjust to living again, all the years she had missed, grieve for the friends that had been lost in the war against the Arrancar. He had waited this long for her; he could wait a while longer. It was enough that she was going to be okay.
And then she had shattered his world. The day he went to see her and Unohana told him that he couldn't, he was not allowed in…he had knocked on her door, called out to her to talk to him. He received no answer. Unohana had told him she was dealing with her grief in the only way she knew how, that she had her own feelings of guilt to overcome, and that he must allow her to come around on her own.
His mind understood what the soft-spoken captain was telling him, but he was still hurt by it, and angry. He had sat by her side for years; pleading with her to return to him, whispering to her that she was needed here, needed by him. He would do anything if only she would wake up, if only she would be alright. And now she didn't want to see him. Didn't want him to be in her life. He didn't understand…
Still, he couldn't be angry at her, not after all this time. Not after all she has been through. It was enough that she was alive. He wanted her to be happy again, wanted to see her smile. Even if it wasn't for him.
A noise at his door. Someone was outside.
He wondered vaguely if it was Matsumoto stumbling drunkenly to the wrong room again, when he heard his door slide open. He turned around sharply, and his breath caught in his throat.
She was standing in his doorway; soaked to the skin and barefoot, wearing nothing but a light sleeping robe, and oblivious to the rain pouring down on her head.
Hinamori…!
They hadn't spoken since that day she refused to let him into her hospital room. And now she was here, like this, and he was completely speechless.
Wasn't she afraid of the storm? It didn't seem like it as she made no move to come in, being drenched more and more every second. He was utterly baffled by her sudden appearance. She hadn't come near him in months. He couldn't make himself move or speak. All he could do was stand there with his mouth open, staring back at her.
Hinamori began to walk toward him, slowly, the look on her face and in her eyes indescribable. She moved as if in a trance, her features a mixture of curiosity, sadness, and…
His expression pained her; he was staring at her as if she were a ghost, her avoidance of him so complete that he was shocked to see her. She had been so wrong. She didn't think about what she was doing as she moved slowly and steadily toward him. She had ignored the truth in her heart for so long; it was time to let it lead her where it may.
She came to a stop mere inches from him. She hadn't realized how much he'd grown; nearly a head taller. She found small amusement in that, but she didn't show it as she looked up at his face, his beautiful blue-green eyes full of questions. Was it too late?
His breathing was shallow as he fought to control himself. From doing what, exactly, he didn't know. He gazed into her eyes and thought maybe it was because of that look she was giving him, those large dark pools so full of some emotion he can't name. Or maybe it was because her very light silk yukata was soaked through and molded to her body, leaving very little to his imagination. Her face and neck were wet from the rain, and tiny droplets glisten on her skin. Her hair was loose and curling, plastered to her head in places from running through the downpour. It was longer than he remembered, cascading over her shoulders and down her back.
She had never looked more beautiful.
His eyes burned into her, searching her face for answers. The words just wouldn't form as she stood before him, absorbing the heat from his body, breathing in his scent. He was tense, not knowing what to expect from her, but he wasn't moving away. She wanted to tell him how she felt, why she braved the storm to come here, but right now she just couldn't think of anything but how close he was to her.
Slowly her hands rose to his shoulders, and she carefully moved his shirts to the side, revealing his chest. She tried not to think about how firm and warm he was, concentrating on the large, even scar running from the top of his shoulder down the length of his pectoral, ending just above the nipple. She gently touched the scar tissue on his collarbone, and with feather-light fingers she traced the line the sword made, faintly pink against his pale skin.
He almost died from this… for her.
His muscle rippled slightly as she touched him, her fingertips trailing hot down his chest, and all he could do was stare down at her as she gently caressed his skin. Suddenly she raised her head and looks into his eyes.
"Why?" she asked, her eyes filled with tears.
He didn't follow. "Why…what…?"
"You could have died…for me!" she cried, looking again at his scar, much larger than her own.
He frowned at her, because she should have known better. "I couldn't just stand by after what that bastard did to you! I wanted to protect you."
"Why would you do that? You could have been killed! I couldn't live with myself if that happened!"
"It was my choice. I'd do it again," he said quietly.
"But I don't deserve it! Why? Why for me?" She began to sob, her body shaking.
It was too much for him to bear, seeing her punish herself with undeserved guilt.
"Damn it! Because I love you Momo!" he shouted, his voice frustrated and sad.
She stopped crying and looked up at him in shock, wide eyes searching his.
"Because I've always loved you." he added, his voice barely above a whisper.
He was looking at her, looking into her, his eyes so deep and full of emotion she became lost in his gaze, her heart so full there were no words. She needed to show him how much those words meant to her, how much he meant to her.
"Toshirou…"
Her hands were still against his chest, and she slowly slid her palm up over his scarred shoulder, the other hand moving further inside his shirt. She could feel his heart pounding as she leaned in closer, until their bodies were touching. She felt his breath hot on her neck and ear as she lowered her forehead to his chest, his masculine scent intoxicating her. It felt so good to be close to him like this.
He closed his eyes and a ragged sigh escaped his lips as she began to kiss his bare chest, slow and feather light as her mouth moved along the line of his scar. Her breath on his skin was like fire, and he reached up to cradle her head, his fingers twisting into her damp hair. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and held her tighter as her tongue glided over his sensitive scar tissue, sending a shiver through his body. She moved from his scar line to his collarbone and her head rested on his shoulder, her face buried in his neck. He moved his hand from her hair to cup the side of her face, lifting it to his. His thumb caressed her cheek as he looked once more into her eyes. So beautiful.
She found herself lost again in his amazing eyes. Normally so cold and icy, closing off his thoughts from the world, they were now so warm, dark and full of something so primal and male it made her melt inside. It gave her a secret thrill to know she was the only one to see them like this. Her head swam with the intoxicating feeling she was getting from his proximity and his hands on her body, and she tilted her face up to his as he leaned in...
It seemed as if time stopped as he kissed her, soft and tender as he tested the waters. His lips parted slightly, his lower lip grazing hers as he caught his breath, then moved in for more. This time his lips were more confident, more demanding as desire and longing were unleashed. She returned his kiss eagerly, her passion matching his own. His hand slid up her back until both hands held her face, his fingers entwining in her hair once more as his tongue entered her mouth, at first lightly, teasing, then more deeply, exploring all of her and causing a tiny sound to escape throat, her senses reeling.
Her hands slip from his shoulder to tightly grasp the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and she pressed her body against him. He gasped a little and a soft moan escaped him, and she used the opportunity to playfully nibble his lower lip, caressing it with the tip of her tongue before receiving his passionate kiss again. His hands wound tighter in her hair and she was amazed by the sensation it brought, and a shiver ran down her spine as she clung desperately to him.
She was vaguely aware they were moving, as one of his arms wrapped around her waist to guide her. She held tightly to him, tried to stay as close as possible as she followed his backward steps. There was no time or space, only the need to be with him like this. In her struggle to remain kissing him as they moved, she accidentally tripped him and they fell over backwards onto the bed. His quick reflexes saved them from crashing too hard as he turned their bodies, bracing their fall with one arm, and she heard him give an amused laugh under his breath as he gently set her down on the bed, half sitting. She smiled apologetically for her clumsiness, and he smiled back as he leaned over her. He gazed lovingly at her while his hand played with her hair, moving it from her face and eyes.
She was suddenly aware that there was entirely too much clothing between them, and she sat up further, grasping for the front of his robes. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as his white captain's haori was ripped off and thrown across the room, followed quickly by both of his shirts. Her expression was determined, as if she was intent on ripping all of his clothes off, and he was entirely certain he wouldn't mind that at all. Her hands caressed his bare chest, fingernails grazing lightly as she ran her palms down his torso, sending shivers through his body. They stopped just above his belt, fingers slipping just underneath his waistline. He drews in a sharp, hissing breath as her fingers and nails began to move over the very sensitive skin below his navel.
She began to untie his belt, wanting to touch every part of his skin. Her mind was filled with purely instinctual desire as she ran her hands over his naked chest, his firm muscles rippling under her touch. He was gorgeous, from his shining white hair and dazzling jade eyes to his strong, lean muscles. Looking at him like this made her want to do things to him…things she had never imagined before. She blushed at her own naughty thoughts focused again on untying his belt.
His hand reached to cover hers, stopping her progress. She looked at him with surprise, wondering why he stopped her. Are you sure? was the unspoken question in his eyes. She loved him even more for that. She had never been more sure of anything in her life, and she smiled reassuringly with a hint of mischief glinting in her eyes. He moved his hand away from hers, resting it on her shoulder blade and kissing her neck as he let her remove his hakama. Finally she succeeded in removing the last of his clothing and was able to take in the full sight of him. She had thought it was bad before he took his pants off, but now she was in danger of losing all her control.
He seemed to sense this and took charge, moving in to kiss her again. She felt all of his need in that kiss, the taste of him sweet and intoxicating as he laid her back gently on the bed. There was nothing between them but her thin silk robe now; still damp and clinging to her curves in all the right places, driving him wild.
The hem of her robe slipped to the side as she lay down, her bent knee exposing her thigh. He leaned over and kissed the top of her knee, his hand sliding down the outside of her thigh as his tongue trailed down the inside. Her breath came in short little gasps as he placed hot, wet kisses and playful nips down the length of her thigh. His hand slid further up under her robe to rest on her hip. She could feel his breath moving ever closer to that heated spot and she quivered, anxious yet hopeful that he would continue his exploration. Her eyes flew open as she felt him retreat from her, and she saw a devilish smirk play at the corners of his mouth. So he wanted to tease, did he? She so wanted to make him pay for that, make him see what it meant to be teased, but her brain was so clouded with passion she couldn't move, could only lie there and let him do sweet, torturous things to her.
The front of her robe had come loose was now showing much more of her chest then it was supposed to, exposing the tiniest bit of cleavage, making him want to rip it off and devour every bit of her. Instead he placed an unsteady hand at her collarbone, and began gently trailing his fingers down the center of her chest, moving to her abdomen, pausing as his fingers ghosted over the small scar there, just below her ribcage. It was so small, less than two inches long, yet it had done so much damage. He knew there was a matching scar just slightly higher on her back where the sword had gone through her. He leaned over slowly and tenderly kissed her scar, as she had done his, nuzzling her skin as he did.
Eventually his hands continued their journey, fingers twisting in the folds of her sash. It was loose, barely holding her flimsy garment in place. His fingers trembled slightly in anticipation of what he was about to uncover as he pulled the bow apart, finally untying it and exposing her navel. His hand moved to the back of her neck and he lifted her up again, his other hand at the small of her back as he brought her to her knees. Foreheads touching, their breath mingling, he slid the robe from her shoulders and it dropped weightlessly from her body. He began to explore the newly uncovered skin, caressing her back, massaging her. His hands moved around her hips and up her ribcage.
She had never let a man touch her like this, and she was amazed by how incredible his hands, rough and calloused from years of sword fighting, felt against her naked skin. She moaned softly as his hands moved over her breasts, that roughness brushing the sensitive, hardened peaks. She leaned her head back as he nuzzled her neck, and he grasped her tighter as she moved into him, her breasts pressing against his chest. She grabbed his hair and pulled his head up slightly so she could nibble his earlobe, then moved along his jaw, kissing and biting until she reached his mouth and pressed her lips to his in another all-consuming kiss.
His hands stopped in their exploration briefly as he was overwhelmed by sensation, her kiss so sweet it was making his head spin. Suddenly she moved closer, closing that last tiny gap between their bodies, and they sighed into each other's mouths as they pressed into each other.
She felt his arousal brushing against her thigh, and didn't think she could take much more. Her need for him finally overcame her and she pressed against his shoulders, forcing him to lower onto his knees into a sitting position as she wrapped her thighs around his hips. She felt him against her center, the tip of him touching her heated skin. His arms wrapped around her in a desperate embrace as she slowly lowered her hips and allowed him to enter her.
His grip tightened around her, his teeth biting into her shoulder and he fought to control himself as she lowered her body onto his, enveloping him completely. He was shaking, every muscle tense, drowning in his need for her. He had wanted her for so long, so many years of hidden feelings, pent up desires. Sensations so strong washed over him in waves he thought for a second he might die of happiness. She felt incredible against him, around him, so hot, feminine muscles tightening, contracting around him. It was all he could do to maintain himself.
She was awash in her own pleasure, feeling it flood her veins. There was no pain, only a brief, minor discomfort as she stretched to take all of him inside her. The feel of him filling all of her was so intense, she thought she might explode from desire. Her insides contracted around him, and she noticed with some satisfaction that this had a major effect on him, perhaps more of an effect than she wanted to have so soon.
His arms wrapped around her in a vice grip and he held his breath, his head pressed into her shoulder. She thought he was trying not to hurt her by moving too suddenly, and it was partly true, but she realized that he was fighting a losing battle to remain in control. She moved slightly to settle against him and he hissed softly as his hands grasped her hips, holding her still. She relaxed against him, her arms moving around his neck as she gave him full control.
Slowly and carefully they began to move, his hands at her hips rocking her, and she picked up his rhythm and ground against him with the guidance of his hands. His grip on her tightened, as does hers around his neck as she surprised herself with the wave of pleasure this new motion brought, and they both groaned aloud as they moved together as one.
She leaned into him, her head thrown back as his hands cupped her breasts, his mouth finding her nipple. He teased her with the tip of his tongue, slowly circling the tiny peak, finally taking her into his mouth and sucking gently, his teeth lightly grazing as his tongue darted across the sensitive tip. She cried out and rocked her hips harder against him, every nerve in her body on fire.
Finally his control broke and he gripped her hips, lowering her back onto the bed, moving deeper inside of her as he settled on top. They began making love in earnest now, their mutual need breaking the last of their restraint. They were barely aware of their surroundings, their passion consuming them both as they clung desperately to each other, lost in their need and pent up desire. His hand grasped the back of her thigh and lifted it higher, and she wrapped her legs around him, tiny moans escaping her lips as he panted against her throat. She razed his back with her nails and cried out as heat exploded within her, smiling as he groaned and thrust harder, their movements becoming rougher, deeper, more intense, his taut back muscles convulsing as the dam broke and a tidal wave of pleasure and release washed over both of them.
The next thing she knew he was caressing her face, planting soft kisses on her brow, her eyelids, her cheeks, whispering incoherent words that she understood nonetheless. They lay together as he gently played with her hair, now damp again from the passion of their lovemaking.
The experience they had just shared, and the memory of her sorrow before coming to him, combined with the way he was looking at her now, like she was the most precious thing in the world, it was all too much to take and the emotions flooded her. She closed her eyes to hide her tears from him, knowing it was futile since he was intently watching her every move. She fought them off; afraid he would think that she regretted what they had done. She opened them again and met his gaze.
"I love you, Toshirou."
He smiled, his eyes bright with emotion, and his voice was raw as he replied, "I love you too, Momo." He tenderly kissed away the tears from her cheeks.
He shifted then and pulled her close against him, wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head on his chest. Her tiny fingers traced little patterns on his skin and he caressed her back, fingers playing gently with her soft curls. Her eyes closed and she listened to the sound of his heart beating, steady and strong, just like he was. She had never felt safer or more loved than she did at this moment with his strong arms around her, his breath against her brow. She was totally at peace.
They were unaware of time passing as they lay there holding one another, neither of them sleeping, just taking it all in, enjoying the feel of being together. She thought happily of the man holding her in his arms. He was a truly wonderful man, he was her man, and she would never let him go again.
"Shiro-chan?" she whispered, knowing that he was awake.
"Mm?" he murmured sleepily into her hair.
She snuggled closer into his embrace. "Can we stay like this forever?"
"Mmmm, yes Momo," he answered, kissing her forehead, "as long as you don't wet the bed." He smiled against her skin as his arms tightened around her.
She giggled softly, turning her head into his shoulder. She felt tired and relaxed, and the storm outside was finally rolling into the distance. Tonight, for the first time in a long while, they would both sleep peacefully.
-
End
