His other hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you into him with the gentle force of a man who knew nothing but how to fight, yet wanted nothing more than to hold you, the kiss that followed was slow, languid, a kind of surrender, his lips were rough, tasting of salt and the stories he’d never tell, but there was tenderness too, a promise that whispered between you with each gentle press of his lips.

His love is a divine hymn that falls from his lips like a trail of saliva made of the nectar of the intoxicating candy that you are psychologically and mentally addicted to, your soul's poured into his soul, cast together, hardly separable and the powers of the worlds cannot separate, he is yours and you are "his*, his confessions of his greatest love for you pour, pour and drown you until you are greedy to get out of that dark lake.

You are his belief⎯⎯I love you, I love you, i love you, i love you, i love you.

The air thickened with the scent of pine and earth, the world around dimming into a blur of shadows and whispers. His forehead rested against yours, and for a moment, the weight of the world disappeared to all that was left was the two of you, tangled in the silence, in the soft night air, in the unspoken understanding that even the fiercest of men could be undone by love.

“You.” He breathed, his voice low and broken,⎯“you’re the only thing that makes sense to me.”

And as his hand slipped from your cheek to intertwine with yours, you felt it—the unspoken promise that no matter how wild the world around him spun, no matter how deeply he tried to bury himself in the chaos, his heart was forever bound to you.

His lips scatter kisses with passion and reverence over every inch of your face, his large calloused hand coming to caress and give a firm but soft squeeze to your cheek as he devours your mouth, the sweet taste of your mouth on his, Dave, fond of you, for years since the fragility of your essence, you met him, your soul to his soul together, not death, they will not be separate.