Work Text:
She’s been waiting on him to come back for months.
She’s missed him for so long that finally having him here, panting beneath her thighs as she straddles him on the huge, soft bed in this little cabin just for them feels surreal and absolutely unbelievable. Her months of dreaming for him to wake up were pale impersonations to the immense satisfaction of how utterly real he is beneath her.
Nothing is intense as the reality of this moment.
She had made a home of a blanket and a carefully positioned, completely uncomfortable chair by his bedside while this planet’s atmosphere worked it’s slow healing properties on him. Her mind torn between exploring the science of the atmospheric shift on their already radiation-soaked bodies and her heavy heart wishing it would work faster.
She watched him get stronger, saw the progress in his vitals improving at an astonishing rate while the man on the biobed remained still as he was over a hundred years ago. Weeks passed and she observed the raw skin turn whole, pink and puffy but clean and safe. The cells multiplied and the scalpel marks on his stomach would be nothing more than memories for her to trace if he would only pull himself out of this awful slumber and back to her. Every molecule in her body thrummed with a yearning for him to wake up.
Abby would wake up from restless dreams with Jackson’s hand on her shoulder, gently urging her to go get some real sleep. Indra tried as well, swearing that she could stand watch and alert her the second Kane showed any signs of movement.
Even Octavia made her own attempts. Never trying to take her place but sitting with her in the silence, a weathered old book in hand and a nod of acknowledgment as they would wait together.
Yet all the words of reassurance in the world were muted encouragements when the man she loved was right there, chest rising beneath her palms as she wished on every star in the galaxy that he would open his eyes. She monitored his pulse and muscle retention. Even asleep as he was, they were able to get more nutrients into his body on this new planet with its plethora of medical supplies than either of them had consumed in years.
She knew every blip on his charts and each abnormality in the readings. She watched the spikes in his brain activity that told her he was there, he was alive and everything must be functioning.
Everything.
She saw the patterns spark. She saw his body react to the dreams he couldn’t tell her about.
She kept Jackson and the other doctors and Diyoza in particular at bay when his body would betray him. There was no way anyone in MedBay would fail to notice the way the standard issue Eligius sleep pants would tighten about his thighs and the rapid alert pulsing on his heart rate monitor.
Marcus would be mortified if he finally woke up only to be greeted by Diyoza’s smug cracks about a century of sweet dreams.
God, she felt awful for staring at him too. He was unconscious. It was a normal, autonomic response that couldn’t be helped but still she licked her lips, rubbing her thighs together and wishing that desire alone could pull him from dreams to reality.
She never touched him, not like that, but god she thought about it. The pants he wears are crisp and clean but Marcus is so lithe, so much more than anyone could ever realize unless they spent the same hours she had, legs splayed on top of him, stretched over that long length of him, that the fabric clings to him regardless of the carefully tailored hem.
It must be awful even in his sleep. Some part of him must register the terrible discomfort of being confined.
Seeing the bunched black fabric combined with the body preserved by more than a century of cryosleep would send flutters twisting in her stomach. She dreamed about it sometimes. About putting her head down next to his in the small cryobed, waking with his hungry hands roving over her, alive and well and wanting her with the same ferocity he once had years ago.
It’s been months and months since they were together intimately. Months waiting for him to wake up, weeks before with tension strung taut between them, and a century of frozen sleep inches apart from each other.
Their last few weeks in the bunker were strained at their best moments. Deep in the pits of addiction and torn with the weight of a lifetime culminated to a dark, desolate future, neither could find the same comforts they once held.
Abby’s relief was chemical and manufactured. It was an escape from pain and then guilt and then pain again. Inner peace was a foggy sensation, a dulling, muted register of the world around them. Marcus was too honorable to do anything when she was on the pills. It was a dim acknowledgment that has become all the more vivid in her memories. The careful path of his hands, touching without searching, testing without pushing. Fingertips drawn along her spine to gauge her reaction. Her want. It was never a lack of desire on his part.
He always wanted her.
The hungry rake of his gaze never stopped running over, never left even after all their time together, after all the atrocities they faced and the terrible, awful dark year. Marcus would still want to curl himself around no one else and bury himself body and soul into a twisted frenzy only with her for hours on end.
But when he could tell that she was somewhere else, somewhere green and far away from their own underground hell, he wouldn’t touch her. Never like that. He would hold her tight, pulling her into the security of his support and she would spend the night squirming in his arms until the magic of her pills finally let her drift off to sleep.
Abby would begin to sober sometime in the the late evening hours feeling every thick, long inch of him flush against her backside. A distant part of her knew that he used to feel so good like that, that the woman she was before would caress herself against the swelling press of him until his teasing hand resting on her stomach would slip itself slowly beneath her panties. That woman would be wet already, craning her neck to kiss him and share a murmured ‘Finally’ while he spread her open on his curled fingers.
But she can’t feel anything when the headache and the dry mouth demand relief and the throbbing shudders guide her hands to the plastic casing tucked away beneath their mattress.
She couldn’t feel desire and she couldn’t feel him. Not the real him, just teases of the physical pieces of Marcus: the strong arms and the long legs that wrap around her easily, the warm hollow of his throat and the cock that fills her entire being like she’s never really been filled in her entire life until she crawled into bed with him. She couldn’t feel the warmth of it all, couldn’t lose herself in the sensation of being desired and loved.
Two swallows later, one for the pills and one for the guilt, she would start to relax. Her muscles would go slack and the old double bed that barely housed them felt luxurious as every piece of her drifted off again to that distant place. The weight and the length of him were temptations slipping away into the chemical ether as the wash of her fix comes over her. Sleep would always come faster the second time around.
In a few weeks or hell, maybe days at the rate of his recovery, they could venture to something out there among the birds and the lush grass and the bright sunlight bathing over them. They didn’t have nearly enough time to enjoy the sunlight streaming into their room in Polis, bathing them in a golden glow. Or under the moonlight and the stars and the cool night as together they twist their way to a burning urgency.
Her breath catches, struck by the future she was afraid to want while he was asleep. She leans down to catch his kiss again, sucking on his bottom lip as a lifetime of moments greedy for him breathes into her.
Now is just for them, for being together again. Finally.
Not that her need to finally feel him again, to take him deep inside her body could stop him from hauling her pliant form up the long length of him. She laughs until she quivers because Marcus exhaled hot breath all over her sensitive outer folds. She can feel herself dripping already, wetness smearing over him.
Thighs stretched across his shoulders, Marcus brought her down upon his mouth over and over again. She shook and trembled and scrambled for purchase as he slicked his lips over her folds and teased his tongue inside her. She pulled his hair and he growled a muffled, hungry thing rippling against her core that sent convulsions down her spine.
She threaded a hand into his hair and the other onto the headboard.
She made the mistake of glancing down at him, seeing his shaggy head between her legs. He caught her in the fire of his eyes, watched her shudder violently by his diligent attentions.
Abby gave up trying to hold herself up for him, gave in to his desire and rode her hips frantically and mercilessly on anything he would give her. His beard burned deliciously on tender skin and his mouth devoured her.
She screamed his name when he dug his hands into her ass and forced her to be still while his tongue stroked in and out of her. Soaking onto his lips and coating his beard, Abby felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes when the first orgasm in over a century tore her apart from the man nuzzling himself into her folds.
She lets the moan rip itself from her, long and high and loud because there’s nothing to stop her now. Nothing to make her hold back the screaming praise she gives him for the rest of their lives.
Marcus chases all of it, every flushed part of her she’s ever taught him and soft circles on her clit until blinding pleasure becomes a warm current where he touches her and god, a laugh, a low, breathless giggle because oh fuck, that was good.
“Did I mention that I missed you?” Abby makes a halted, clumsy climb down his body. Her legs and her arms are lazy and languid and she’s worried she might simply collapse on top of him before she can drag him into the same post-really-fucking-good orgasm lethargy she’s feeling right now.
Marcus’ laugh rumbles from his lips to hers and deeper, down to the sensitive tips of her breasts pressed firmly against him.
“All of you.” Abby tastes herself everywhere on him when they kiss. Marcus can’t stop touching her everywhere, strokes along her spine and cupping her ass and teasing her tits.
She missed being held by him and god she missed holding him inside her. “It’s been so bad without you.”
His body arcs sharply when she wraps as much of her hand as she can around him.
It’s always taken two hands to wrap all the way around him. He keened and convulsed the first time she ever teased her mouth around the slick, weeping head. Marcus worshiped her for days. Well, worshiped her more than usual. He’s so naturally generous that she never failed to feel like anything short of a goddess by the reverence he treated her naked body.
Marcus Kane was so much more of a lover than a fighter and he spent a lifetime in the trenches of the war on survival. Now is the time to live. Now is the time for love.
Abby doesn’t have the patience to take him into her mouth right now though the ache is certainly present. She loves the pliant fall of his body under her spell. The tautness in his thighs as he tries to hold himself back from pressing deeper at war with the slack of a man completely undone by her touch.
Maybe later. Maybe this afternoon. Definitely tonight at least but right now she needs him.
Marcus kisses her until they’re breathless while she strokes him. He sees stars when she twists her wrist and squeezes.
He swears to god and the stars and to her when she forces herself to slowly take just the thick tip of him inside her at last.
She can’t take all of him right away. She never could in the beginning and Marcus loved it more than he dared to admit. He loved the slow, hot drag of her adjusting around him, panting and spilling filthy endearments and trembling as he circled her clit with a firm, calloused thumb, pulling each small orgasm from her spent body until he could finally move.
Abby can’t take all of him right now either.
It’s been too long and he’s still just as big as their first night and every night. He’s thicker than any man made so much of lean muscle has any right to be. The length she might have predicted. Marcus is tall and strong. There’s always been that special trick to his gait which teased of something delicious just behind his guard’s uniform.
But he’s full and beautiful and long and it seems like a crime that one man should have so much but she’s just damn glad it’s her man. She’s possessive of him like this, whispering into his ear when she touches him about ‘all for me’ and ‘all mine’even if she can’t take all of him right away.
She’ll be damned if she doesn’t try regardless.
She whimpers through the first push. Her teeth worry her lip but the tip of his cock is so goddamn good inside her. Tears are building in the corner of her eyes again, fucking herself on this much of him, thighs spread wide to take him home.
“You feel so good, honey.” Abby purrs, tossing her head back with wild honey locks cascading down around her.
Marcus trembles under her praise, cock twitching at the sensual rasp of her voice. Abby keens at the shift, bracing her hands on his chest with her breasts pushed forward. Murmurs of oh god oh god, oh yes rush through the fleeting breaths and the choked gasps from the man beneath her. Marcus is being so good and so patient. Caressing her thighs and gripping her ass, careful to let her set this pace when each nerve in his body is on fire wishing for more.
“Oh yes, right there.” Abby whines her body’s acquiescence, going lower, going deeper. A few inches and she’s already feeling the hurt and the sweet, perfect, just right agony of it all.
Marcus with his thick, huge cock hitting those spots inside of her that shoot sparks arcing through her veins. He’s too muchand so thick and she can feel him everywhere inside her and along her body. He’s everywhere at once and she could weep for the mind-blowing pleasure of it.
“Fuck, Abby. Fuck, you feel--” Guttural, deep moans ripped from his throat going straight to her cunt, clenching even tighter around him. Their moans are simultaneous and loud, filling the quiet of their cabin. The air around them has grown warm despite the open windows, the glitters of sunlight dancing across them as the wind blows the curtains away.
Nothing works to cool her heated skin because the only thing she can feel right now is Marcus.
Marcus with his long hair in a tangle on the pillow, thoroughly debauched and not even rung to completion yet. Chest heaving and pink underneath her raking fingernails with each muscle drawn taut as he stays right there with her, drawing this out for all the time they couldn’t.
“I’m right here, Marcus.”
She can’t go any deeper. Can’t can’t can’t no, her mind reels but every fiber of her traitorous body wants more.
She’s done it before. She’s taken all of him, felt him burst inside her and the blinding, shattering sensation of having every aching part part of her apart seared with overwhelming delicious rapture.
She can’t but she wants to, oh god she wants to.
Abby can’t stop herself from rolling her hips, sliding up and he gasps, falling down and he growls. Marcus is so alive and he wants her unabashedly with everything in his being. It’s open in the way his eyes are dark and drawn to her, watching her rise and fall on top of him.
“Right here.” She echoes, palm over his heart. It’s rapid pumping soothes and excites her. Marcus meets her touch for touch, pressing her hand down into his chest. Heavy eyes take her in and it’s like being twenty years younger with how much he wants her even as he has her. Inside her and naked and her lover is still consumed with a desire for her that can’t be sated.
It’s too much, his love, to handle being still. It lifts her hips and slides them down and she fucks him with long, hard rolls of her body. She takes him without mercy, as much as she can every time because they need to feel this good together.
“You feel so good.” Abby doesn’t hold back, not in word or burning undulation. She’ll be lucky if she can walk tomorrow and she’s so loud with rich hot sounds surrounding them. It doesn’t possible that he could get any bigger, already the delicious pain of his sheer enormity edging her into the abyss but she can feel the ache and the swell and knows that her words have gone straight to the core of him. “So goddamn big, Marcus. Oh, yes honey.” She reminds him with unbarred affection, feeling herself shift lower and lower, tears really falling helplessly happy down her face
“Make me feel good, Marcus. Make me feel good with how big you are. I love you. Love every--” She doesn’t get to finish. She doesn’t get to finish because Marcus can’t handle her stream of praise and love and the high effect of her voice when she’s so close to the edge.
This is the crux of how to draw him outside of himself, outside of the control and the restraint. Love.
He had shut himself off for so long even as opportunities surely presented themselves. Abby had been no stranger to the rumors about him, how one poorly chosen bed partner made the whole Ark aware of the weapon Marcus Kane carried. He had become a novelty, a thing to be conquered and never to be loved.
Abby had discovered it quickly, that easy secret of what lures him forward, because once they were finally naked together, every raw thing spilled out of them. Love most of all.
Marcus surges upward, cock seated fully inside her, throbbing and pulsing with every overwhelming inch of him filling her completely.
Abby screams and bucks and every time she tries to adjust, her body writhing at the onslaught of being so thoroughly filled she sends more tremors running through her muscles. Marcus draws feverish kisses from one breast to another, sucking a stiffened nipple into his mouth while his hand keeps the other to a tender peak.
It’s too much sensation and when he groans his mouth around her breast a second orgasm seizes hold of her without warning. Better than the first mere minutes ago, better than any sensation from watching him in his sleep, better than her own hand because he’s so completely there in that moment with her.
He keeps groaning around her breast, trembling from the tight hold of her cunt on his cock. She shivers and pulses and the slightest movement sends the thick flushed tip of his cock pushing closer to that one, tender, sensitive spot. Marcus can’t stop, not for the ripples of aftershocks coursing through or the breathy pleas falling from her slack lips.
He pulls her back, begging her for mercy even as he holds the power within his palms.
Abby nods, the orgasm still clutching its hold on her but Marcus is too desperate for her to be still. Her hips ride him in frenzy, chasing the lasting quivers in her body and Marcus encourages it with an eager ferocity. Abby stares down at him through a heavy gaze, sweat beading down her body, perspiration thick on his forehead.
Marcus rocks her hips, fucking her on his cock, soaking down every inch of him. The position and the angle don’t allow for the same long, deep strokes but Abby can feel every single inch of him completely inside her with a blinding clarity. She could come again like this, can feel it build slowly from the tips of her toes. She could spend the rest of the afternoon splayed across his lap, riding his cock until her body collapses.
It won’t be enough for Marcus. Marcus wants more. Marcus needs more. Her tender, generous lover is desperate to crash over the edge but that big, beautiful cock nestled comfortably between her legs could be achingly hard all day. And he would too, if he could. He would let himself burn apart if it meant she felt good.
Marcus needs more and Abby knows him well enough to take pity on his selflessness. Sharp fingers tug the rich, soft hair mussed at the back of his head, tugging his face to look at her. She captures him in a long, drawn out, completely indulgent kiss, tasting deeply of his lips that taste like her and his tongue that tastes like him.
“Tell me what you need, Marcus. You made me feel so good, honey. Tell me--”
“Get on your knees.”
He stares up at her, firm hands stretches across her ass, circling her body on him, watching her. Waiting for her. Afraid and unsure even after all this time to ask for his pleasure. She knows whatever he said was a question phrased a statement.
A plea if she was willing.
She could say no. She could insist on it just like this, face to face, warm breath teasing over each other until he finally breaks and she falls forward into his embrace.
“Yes.” Abby nods again because she’s the one person in every world who understands him best. She understands his need to feel everything, all the moments he’s missed with her.
The pull out is almost as painful as the push. There’s so much of him that he drags along her sensitive pussy when he slowly withdraws. She whimpers loudly at the loss. Without him inside her, she’s struck with the emptiness.
She’s hyper aware of how much of himself he gives to her and how badly she wants him back.
Her hair is a tangle like his own, some cascading over her shoulders, some stuck along her spine as it mingles with the sweat coating their bodies. Abby glances over her shoulder at him, sees him on his knees behind her. The sunlight dances behind him, framing him in its glow and lighting him on fire. His cock hangs heavily between his legs, glistening with her smeared all over it. She gasps, reaching back for him clumsily, letting him drape himself across her bent form, meeting her together.
“Fuck me, Marcus,” she commands with his lips on the back of her neck. He nips at her shoulder blades and she mewls. He pauses, nuzzling himself in, breathing her into his being again and Abby arcs under his weight. “I need you.”
It’s easier this time which doesn’t mean a lot considering she still screams when he pushes inside her in one deep, fast move. No time to adjust, no time to slowly feel him inside and she wouldn’t have him any other way. She needs him like this just like he needs to be completely alive with her.
Abby can only clutch her hands desperately into the mattress for balance against the impossibly good pressure of Marcus thrusting inside her. It’s Marcus all around her. Marcus rutting her into the sheets. Marcus with his arm around her waist, his breath on her neck, his beard tickling her spine.
Marcus pushing her down into the mattress, panting her name and the flushed head of his cock hitting that sweet, tender, sensitive spot inside her.
She can’t stop the onslaught of whimpers and vulgar encouragements because her head is down into the mattress and her arms are shaking trying to find grounding but all she has is the hold of his arms around her, anchoring her directly to his cock and his hands on her and the obscene slap of their bodies writhing together. He’s so close and she can tell they won’t be able to hold this much longer. He’s been dizzyingly hard for so long now and she can’t believe he hasn’t exploded with the same ecstasy she feels by now.
She can’t believe he’s so big and he’s so good with it, so natural and so focused on giving everything over to her until she’s spent with pleasure coursing through her body.
She can’t believe he’s back and this is real and this could be every day because this is the life they have now. Here in this bed, twisted together for hours while her body aches with the immense shock of being pushed over the edge time and time again while Marcus keeps giving and giving.
She can’t believe that she can feel it happening again, driving her to a precipice she’s not certain she’ll survive.
Her world zeroes down to Marcus with his hand slipping lower, down beneath the soft hairs and then pinching her clit hard between his fingers. Her world shatters into hundreds of tiny, sharp pieces all starting and stopping with Marcus Kane inside her. Everything in her draws to a peak and collapses, pussy gushing as he fucks himself into her until finally the guttural sound of his orgasm washes over them. Oh, this feeling. All the memories of being filled and she remembers how much she loved this part. The fire it ignites in her, the thrill as he crashes down with her.
He stops rutting, stops moving everything except the hand on her cunt making her shake over and over with his cock filled to the top completely within her. She shakes and trembles and her whole body is liquid happiness.
The mattress groans when they collapse together. Marcus falls first, down to his side. Abby is already prone on the soft surface, protesting weakly then succumbing easily when he pulls her with him. Even softening slowly, Marcus is still inside her. She keeps him that way, holding on for a moment longer. Marcus on his side, Abby pulled back against his chest, gently tangling themselves together while the world comes back to being around them.
She only moves because she has to look at him. To see him and believe that this is real.
‘Thoroughly fucked,’ she had told him once before. When it’s this good and this intense and it takes too long for either of them to finally talk again, that’s how she describes him. Marcus had smirked, pulling her into him for a kiss that spoke of passion and gratitude and promises of later and forever.
He wears it well, this thoroughly fucked look. It paints a natural fire in his body, makes him a creature of the wild completely tamed for her.
Hearing his labored breathing, watching his chest rise and fall is scary and good and gently comforting. He’s so alive even if she is worried they may have overexerted him. They’ll figure out explaining that tomorrow.
But no, Marcus is okay. He’s smiling lazily, turning to look at her and the lopsided crook of a smile beckons her over. She climbs herself higher onto the bed, slipping her arms and legs around him. He turns into her embrace, head dazed lazily onto her breasts, their legs twined together.
She’s already going to be sore. This evening, in the morning, on their walk back to the central hub of their burgeoning town, so sleeping like this, tangled up in each other is one more ache she’s been craving for months. She holds him and this time, he’s holding her back.
“I was worried you wouldn’t come back.” Abby twirls her fingers in his hair. The words spill out of her, needing to be said in this unmasked truth about the terrible fears she lived with for too long. This is what they do, after all. The come together and they talk and they tear apart all the ugly things so that only hope can grow between them.
His breath falls over her breasts, tickling heat where her heart races beneath in her chest.
‘I know the feeling,’ he thinks, remembering half a decade of darkness in the bunker, hoping for the woman he loves to come back to him.
Marcus cranes his head, kissing the flutter of her pulse, the strong line of her jaw, the spot just behind her ear that draws soft murmurs of sated contentment from her. “Me too.”
They settle comfortably together again, Abby drawing her fingertips on the space between his shoulder blades and Marcus skimming his thumb along the jut of her ribs.
She’s surprised when he bends his head again, pressing a kiss to her breast and then her collar, running mischief with these little bursts of adoration. He can’t possibly be ready again but that means nothing for his need to kiss her passionately and constantly. He kisses her shoulder, enveloping her into his arms.
He rests his nose into her hair, kissing her forehead. Abby takes his easy comfort, giving herself over to it and settling herself into the low rasp of his words into her skin.
“Would you believe me if I told you I dreamed about that for over a hundred years?”
It’s a stupid, cheesy line.
It’s ridiculous.
Abby laughs anyway, swatting his back beneath her palm. Marcus snuggles himself impossibly closer to her and Abby bites down the wince already building in her legs. The planet will work its magic on her too, she thinks on a wild whim of fantasy.
“I don’t need to believe you.” She teases, teeth nipping at his skin. “I have your medical charts.”
When he couldn’t tell that she was high, when it was a really good day and she pulled him down by the stretched black collar of his sweater, he was ready instantly. A piece of him waiting forever to have her back that surges at the taste of her tongue skirting against his, eager to be consumed.
But through all the caresses and the kisses and the soft, happy murmurs the inevitable guilt would crash it down around them. Marcus would groan his wicked intentions into her lips and his hands would busy themselves tearing every impeding garment to be cast off recklessly. He would touch her and taste her, draw her nipples to peaks with his mouth but when he pushed inside her, he knew.
She didn’t cry out the same. Her mouth didn’t go slack and her head didn’t fall back for him to bury himself home in her neck. Her nails didn’t score the wings of his shoulder blades. She didn’t feel him as much.
The pills would numb that sensation and everything was all too easy.
Nothing was as intense.
Then he knew. Then it wasn’t real and she couldn’t look at the heartbreak staring down at her. She remembers that too in her nightmares. He stares down at her, heart shattering into pieces until he collapses onto the bed beside her, quiet and still and so far away from her.
Her body has been thrumming with anticipation since his eyes fluttered open.
Through the rasp in his throat, a voice that hasn’t been used in over a hundred years, he called for her, reaching for her hand on the bed next to him. His thumb traced along her knuckles and Abby couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Neither could Marcus as he stroked her hair, the two falling into quiet gratitude, heads bowed together, enclosed in a world existing only of them.
Physical therapy with Jackson and he was up and walking within the week. Marcus couldn’t believe how good he felt. He couldn’t believe that the scar on his thigh from TonDC didn’t burn as he stretched his legs over the edge of the medical bed.
Gentle coaching and meals shared alone in Sickbay and he learned how to eat again.
The work was remarkable. This planet is incredible. Marcus was eager to see it.
He held her hand as they went slowly through the acres of greenery given to their people by the descendants of Eligius III. Their people nodded their greeting at him, smiling brightly as they passed. Marcus is too lost in the splendor of it all to see the relief on their faces, the calming fall of their shoulders as they watched him return where he belongs. Among them.
Some part of these hundreds of survivors was waiting for Marcus as much as Abby had waited for him. Waiting to accept the possibility of something good, waiting for him to say this could be their home.
In a motley field of wildflowers on the outskirts of their village he pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her forehead.
Abby’s arms wrapped around him, squeezing him tight. She’s missed him so much and the only way she can tell him is to hold onto him with the desperation she’s been dreaming of for months. She’s missed his arms and his embrace and the feeling of his body, so solid and strong, right here with her.
‘I missed you.’ She hissed into his arms, allowing herself this vulnerability in front of the only one she trusts to hold it.
“All of you,” she echoes right now, sitting atop his thighs and watching the fresh pink skin bob with each heavy swallow. She toys with the trail of dark hairs leading down to swelling cock trapped beneath her.
Abby can’t move without feeling him everywhere, feeling the thick, flushed head brushing along her ass and the sheer girth of him begging for her when she curls along the growing length.
It’s nothing short of miraculous that they made it all the way back to their new home, inside its safety and its privacy.