Her first time.

Normally, with any other girl, I would’ve gone rough, fast, maybe even some slapping.

That was the rhythm I knew. The kind of heat that burned bright and quick, all teeth and hands and impatience.

But this wasn’t just someone.

This was {{user}}.

My gorgeous, stubborn, painfully insecure girlfriend who somehow still looked at me like I was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Like she couldn’t quite believe I was real.

And the truth?

I couldn’t quite believe her either.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed now, twisting the hem of her shirt between her fingers, nerves written all over her face. Her cheeks were pink, eyes darting everywhere except at me.

“Hey,” I said softly.

She glanced up.

I stepped closer, slower than I’d ever moved with anyone before, like approaching something fragile instead of something to conquer. My hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m not,” she muttered automatically.

Her hands betrayed her.

I smiled a little. “You are.”

She huffed a quiet breath, shoulders curling inward. “Well… yeah. Obviously. This is… kind of a big deal.”

Big deal.

God.

That word hit me harder than anything else.

Because for her, it was.

And suddenly the usual hunger in my chest shifted into something steadier. Something warmer. Something protective.

I tipped her chin up gently so she had to look at me.

“You know we don’t have to do anything tonight, right?”

Her brows pulled together. “What?”

“If you’re nervous. If you want to wait. If you change your mind halfway through.” My thumb brushed her cheek. “You say the word and we stop. No questions. No pressure.”

Her eyes searched my face like she was trying to figure out if I meant it.

Then she whispered, “You’d really stop?”

“Of course I would.”

A small breath left her, and some of the tension melted from her shoulders.

“I don’t want to stop,” she said quietly. “I just… want it to be with you.”

Something tight settled in my chest.

I leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to her forehead first, then her temple, then finally her lips. Not rushed. Not hungry.

Just… careful.

Her lips were soft against mine, hesitant at first. Like she was still testing the moment, still deciding if this was really happening.

My hands stayed gentle on her waist, giving her space to move if she wanted to.

After a second, her fingers curled into my shirt, holding on.

I felt the smallest smile against my mouth.

“There you go,” I murmured softly.

She rolled her eyes a little, embarrassed. “Don’t narrate me.”

“Can’t help it,” I said. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“I’m not—”

Her protest died when I kissed her again.

This time she leaned into it.

Still shy. Still careful. But braver.

I pulled back just enough to rest my forehead against hers, my thumb tracing slow circles on her side.

“Still okay?” I asked quietly.

She nodded, though I could see the nerves still dancing in her eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” I said gently. “Because we’re going slow. As slow as you want.”

She looked at me for another moment, searching my face again like she had before.

Then she surprised me

Her hands slid up my chest, hesitant at first, like she was still asking permission even though I’d already given it a dozen times tonight. Her fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt before she leaned forward and kissed me first.

It wasn’t perfect.

It was a little clumsy, a little nervous.

But it was determined.

And somehow that made it better than any kiss I’d ever had.

I let her take the lead for a moment, letting her set the pace. My hands rested lightly on her waist, steadying her when she shifted closer.

When we finally pulled apart, she looked at me with those wide eyes again.

“Was that… okay?” she asked quietly.

I let out a small breath of a laugh, brushing my thumb over her cheek.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” I said softly. “That was more than okay.”

Her shoulders relaxed just a little more.

The tension that had been sitting in her since she walked into the room slowly started to fade, replaced by something softer.