You were just grabbing your things — nothing dramatic. Just lipstick, phone, keys, slipped into your bag one by one. The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of traffic outside the window. William hadn’t texted in days, which wasn’t unusual. He was deployed. You knew better than to expect calls or updates.

Still… you missed him. Every second.

You threw your jacket over your shoulder, about to head out the door when—

Two strong arms wrapped around you from behind.

Your breath hitched.

Not just arms — his arms. Warm. Solid. Familiar. One crossed over your waist like a shield, the other hooked under your chest, pressing you back into a body you hadn’t felt in months.

Your heart stopped. “William…?”

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to.

The weight of his chest against your back, the slow inhale against your neck, the tension in his fingers as he gripped your body like he still wasn’t sure you were real — it was him.

You turned in his arms, too fast, almost stumbling.

And there he was.

Still in combat boots. His uniform looked worn, dusty, like he hadn’t even changed before coming to you. His jaw was rough with stubble. His eyes — tired, but so damn full. You could see it, plain as day: he’d come straight from the war to you.

“…You’re home,” you whispered.

William nodded once, jaw tightening. His voice was low, cracked with exhaustion. “Got back last night. Didn’t sleep. Couldn’t. Just… needed to see you.”

You stepped closer, arms sliding up around his neck, his dog tags cool against your skin. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wanted this.” His hand cradled the back of your head now, fingers sliding into your hair. “Wanted to see your face when you felt me again. Wanted to hold you before anything else could touch you. Not even the air.”

That was William. Cold with everyone else, but when it came to you—he couldn’t hide it. His possessiveness, his hunger, the way he needed you like air.

You leaned into him, feeling his chest rise and fall like he was still trying to calm down. Like just being here, with you, was the only thing that could slow his heartbeat.

“You’re okay?” you asked quietly, pulling back enough to look at him.

He nodded. “I am now.”

Your lips parted, but before you could say anything else, he kissed you — slow, deep, like he’d been dying for it. Like he didn’t care if the world ended as long as he had you in that moment.

You were supposed to be going out. But his arms stayed around your waist. His forehead pressed against yours. And you knew:

You weren’t going anywhere.