1. Happy Birthday

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Warning: NSFW scenes.

Warning: NSFW scenes

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Year: 2021

It was known. December nights had always been cold. Darkness had clouded the moonlight. The sound of rain could be heard striking against the windows of the enclosed stores. No one was visible in the alley. The rumble of thunder and lightning had covered the flicker of the streetlight.

It had passed 3 a.m., and no living soul seemed awake at that moment. But at the end of the street was a small apartment, with candle flames flashing from the 3rd-floor windows.

When questioned, the neighbors stated it was the home of two people who had no one but each other. Their house was not big, but it seemed warm, especially compared to the harsh weather outside.

Walking through the door, the eyes would drop on several paintings whose beauty was recognizable even in the dark.

On the left side, the kitchen could be seen where tonight there was a small half-eaten birthday cake with 23 burned candles on the dining table. A gift box was placed beside the cake, featuring a silver wristwatch with a white dial.

The bedroom door was partially open. Passing by the couch and table, two people breathing in the room was better heard. The dim room had been kindled with a handful of candles.

"I love you, Y/N," whispered the man. His voice was gentle, hoarse with desire. He glided over the woman, sealing his lips on hers.

She willed to melt into the kiss, dissolve in his embrace as she had done many times before. His mouth was a perfect match for hers with the sweetest taste. Jesus! His big hand revolved around her neck with strength but softness.

She brought him closer to herself, wanting to feel the throbbing of his heart. His eyes were fixed upon hers, and a smile found its way to his lips. He caressed her hair and resumed the thrust, his body moving rhythmically inside her.

The woman's body moved back and forth beneath him, her body drifting against his. "... I... love... you... Satoru..."

Her hand clutched the sheets, running the other one along his bareback, down across the ribs to feel the dimples of his hips. It was an odd sensation to have something in your arms and still be yearning for it. She could feel the hardness of him stretching her inner walls.

He ran his fingertips lightly across her cheekbones. His eyes searched her face. She was his dream. His reason for being, living and trying. She was all he wanted when he blew out candles on each birthday.

"You feel so good, Y/N," and his voice seemed to send vibrations through her bones, so she gave in and faded between his arms. Truthfully, she loved these moments the most; the sincere compliment, the heartfelt peace. She loved his weight on her body, the feeling of his sweaty skin, his naked body wrapping around her. She never felt closer to him than when there was nothing between them.

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