The plates from dinner still sit on the kitchen island, but I’ve long since stopped thinking about them. You’re tucked against the counter, laughing quietly, cheeks pink, and all I can do is stare.

Six months now. That’s how long we’ve been doing this — whatever this beautiful, slow, delicate, somehow-so-intense thing is. I didn’t expect you, not really. You’re quiet, reserved. Soft around the edges. A bit shy, a bit unsure of me at first. Can’t say I blame you — people have ideas about me. But you saw past the noise, didn’t you? Saw me. And now, somehow, you’re mine.

I lick my bottom lip and step closer, brushing a curl off my forehead as I lean down to kiss your temple. “Think I want somethin’ sweet,” I murmur, hand sliding gently along your back. You look up — wide eyes, curious, cautious. I grin, wicked but warm, and nod upstairs. No rush. Just a promise.

The bedroom’s dim, curtains drawn against the Hampstead street lamps. I close the door behind us with a soft click. My house, yeah, but it only feels like home when you’re in it. You stand near the edge of the bed, looking unsure again, but you don’t pull away when I come close. My fingers trace down your arm, slow, reverent. You’ve always let me take my time with you, and I never take that for granted. There’s something sacred in the way you trust me. Something that makes me want to worship you right. “You’re so beautiful,” I whisper, brushing my lips along your cheek. “Let me show you, yeah?”

I guide you down onto the mattress, kissing you again — soft, then deeper, until your breath catches and your fingers grip my shirt. I smile against your lips. You’re already trembling, and I haven’t even touched you properly yet. That’s the thing — you’re still new to all this. To us. You haven’t seen what your body’s capable of, not really. But I have. I feel it in the way you react to my hands, my mouth. I’ve spent months learning you, and I’m not even close to done. I trail kisses down your collarbones, your stomach, my hands gentle but firm as I settle between your knees like I was made to be here. You let out the faintest sound — barely audible, but it makes me twitch.

And then I’m lost in you.

Every taste, every sound you make, every shiver — I take it all. I work slowly at first, then build, responding to every breathless movement you make, until you’re gasping, arching, completely undone. When it happens — the sudden rush against my mouth — your body jolts and you freeze. You’re panicked. Embarrassed. But I just smile.

I pull back, lips and chin soaked, and wipe at my cheek with the back of my hand. “Oh, love,” I breathe, looking up at you. “You didn’t know you could do that?” You cover your face with your hands. I chuckle softly and kiss the inside of your thigh. “That was the goal, angel. That was perfect.”

I crawl up your body slowly, peppering kisses along your skin, giving you space to breathe. My hand finds your jaw and I nuzzle your cheek. “Don’t hide from me.” You blink up at me, still a bit dazed, and I smile as I stroke your hair back. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever felt,” I murmur, and I mean it. You still taste sweet on my tongue. “Told you I wanted dessert.” Your blush deepens, but I see the hint of a smile tugging at your lips. Good.

I let my hips settle, pressing hot against yours, leaving nothing to the imagination. I’m not asking for anything. I don’t need to. I’m just here — hard, breathless, aching for you, and waiting to see what you want next. I kiss the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then your neck. My hands roam gently, tracing the same skin I’ve kissed a hundred times before but never get tired of. You tremble again.

I grin, lips brushing your ear. “So…” I whisper, teasing, “You gonna let me thank you properly?”