You’d think that after five hundred years —and then some— love would start to wear down. That passion would eventually fade, like a dying star. That at some point, two people who’ve shared entire centuries would run out of things to say, run out of ways to feel.
But that… that never applied to you and Mark.
At around 520 years old each, you still loved each other with the kind of intensity that defied time itself. It wasn’t just routine, or comfort. It was passion, it was fire, it was the kind of love that had survived wars, losses, collapsed universes, and the brutal passage of time. Your love hadn’t dimmed — it had evolved. Grown deeper. Sharper. Fiercer.
Now, with Terra all grown up and living her own life light-years away, the house —the home you had built together— was yours again. Quiet. Peaceful. Full of memories, of course, but also full of space to be just the two of you again. Space for soft silences and stolen moments like this one.
Mark had just returned from a long interplanetary council meeting. He wasn’t in uniform anymore, but he still carried himself like someone who’d spent hours holding the weight of the universe on his shoulders. He stepped through the front door, closing it behind him with a sigh that only someone who’s lived more than half a millennium could release. His footsteps were slow at first — heavy. But then he heard your voice calling from upstairs.
And everything shifted.
You only said his name. Nothing urgent. Just that soft, sing-song tone he knew so well — teasing, maybe, or just affectionate. That was all it took.
He looked up toward the stairs, like your voice had pulled him by an invisible string. He began to climb, slow and deliberate, like he already knew something important —something intimate— was waiting for him.
And then he saw you.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
You were lying on the bed, calm, effortless, with the kind of quiet confidence that only time and deep trust could give. Your head was resting on your hand, elbow propped up for support. The sheets draped around you like silk, soft and suggestive. Your eyes sparkled — playful, warm. You knew exactly what you were doing. And so did he.
“Ah—”
The sound slipped out before he could stop it.
Short. Stunned. Not because he didn’t expect it… but because you still left him breathless. After all this time.
A slow smile crept across his lips — the real kind. Not the practiced one he gave to diplomats or allies. This one was soft. Personal. Yours.
His shoulders dropped, tension melting off his body in waves. His entire face shifted — from tired to stunned, from stunned to utterly in love. He leaned against the doorframe, drinking you in with his eyes. Every curve, every strand of hair on the pillow, every familiar and sacred detail.
His chest filled with warmth. With awe. With desire, yes — but more than that, with something gentler. Deeper. The kind of love that made his heart ache in the best way.
He thought —like he sometimes did— about how impossible this all should’ve been. How unlikely it was, after everything, that you were still here. That after centuries of chaos and pain and impossible odds… you were still his.
And yet, there you were.
He didn’t say another word.
He didn’t need to.
He already knew what was going to happen.
And not for anything in the entire galaxy… would he have stopped it.
He knew exactly what was going to happen.
And he loved it.