WARNINGS: angst, smut, swearing, choking, roughness
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It was late afternoon. Thursday, to be exact. The air was cold and bitter, with winds blowing enough to chap any bit of exposed skin. Amongst it all, the snow and ice, a certain tall Swede was climbing out of his car.
Despite the wicked cold that burned his lungs the moment he breathed in, there was a stupid grin on his handsome face, wide eyes flickering about to take in his surroundings.
A quaint front yard, covered in blankets of white. A wide, inviting front porch, and a modest, tasteful house right in the center. A familiar warmth spread through his chest at the mere sight of it all.
This was it. He was home.
With a sigh, Bill fumbled with his keys, heading round the car to open the trunk. He heaved his luggage out, nearly falling overtop of it as he attempted to keep it out of the snow and close the trunk at the same time. Once he was situated, he trekked up to the house, all too giddy with excitement.
He wasn't even supposed to be home today. He'd told you that he would be home on Saturday, the day before Christmas Eve, but things had worked out in his favor, and he'd been able to get home two days earlier. He had decided to keep it a surprise, so not a word of it had been uttered to you.
Now here he was, jet lagged, cold, and currently struggling to find the house key on his keyring, but here nonetheless. He managed to pull up the correct key, and moments later, he was stepping into the warm house.
He kicked the snow off his shoes, set down his suitcase, and began to shrug off his many layers. Gloves, a coat, a scarf, a sweater beneath. That left him in his jeans, a t-shirt, and some festive socks that had little pictures of the Grinch sewn in.
Bill left his suitcase as the door, and ventured further into the house, which was decked out in Christmas decor. Everything was quiet, as far as he could tell. In the kitchen, he found a half empty cup of coffee sitting on the counter, most likely where you'd stood to eat breakfast that morning.
Carrying on, he strolled through the living room, which was void of any signs of life. So, further he went, humming quietly to himself as he headed towards the stairs, figuring you were on the second floor. As he reached the top of the staircase, he took pause, for a certain sound had brushed past his ears.
He went quiet entirely, listening closely. It didn't take him long to figure out that those sounds were moans. Soft and sweet and so familiar. Bill crept further down the hall, pausing at your bedroom door, which was cracked open. Inside, he was met with the sight of you, your beautiful body completely bare, writhing against the unkempt sheets.
A thousand thoughts filled his head at once as he watched, seemingly frozen in place. He considered joining in on your fun. The image of you in such a state was enough to arouse him considerably. But the longer he stood there, the more things he noticed.
His eyes, always calculating, drifted over your form. Your hand was between your legs, a cylindrical vibrator buried within you. The look on your face was what got him. Desperate, twisted into such a breathtaking, sweet agony.
Your free hand gripped at the sheets, the pillows, anything you could get ahold of. He knew the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm, he had your body memorized, and could tell that you were quickly approaching that peak. Your hips bucked, and Bill's name, as well as a mantra of please, fell from your lips in strangled gasps.
His cheeks burned ruby, his body suddenly growing warm. An odd feeling began to rise within him, not one of arousal, but one of...sadness? Yes, sadness. That's what it was.
Bill backed away from the door slightly, ready to turn back around and go downstairs. But he paused for just a moment, eyes still locked on your body. A tear had begun to slip down your cheek. He could remember the times you'd cried for him during love making. They were always such tender moments shared with one another. But now here you were, crying unabashedly. Not because he was there with you, but because he was away from you.
You had been apart for so long, and you'd grown lonely, unbearably so.
When he saw the way you tensed up, back arching against the mattress as you let your head fall back into the pillows, he knew you were done for. It was then that he turned around, silently rushing away from your room and back down the steps. His face was still burning up, so he headed straight for the kitchen sink, turning on the cold water and splashing it over his skin.
He stayed there, standing at the sink, for several seconds, breathing in deeply, trying to calm his spinning mind. He felt awful, really. The sound of your cries and gasps were still echoing through his head. Empty, desperate, alone. Just like the way he'd left you.
Of course, you both knew how his schedule was, how high the demands were. You'd never complained about his long periods of absence. You handled them with grace, and were always put together and ready to welcome him when he returned home. For some reason, what you had to go through while he was gone had never truly dawned on him, not in this sense. He knew he had to somehow make up for it all, but he wasn't sure how.
He tried to push the thoughts out of his mind, opting to instead pretend like he was just arriving home and make a bunch of racket to alert you of this. He headed over to the front door, pulled it open, and loudly pushed it shut again.
"Sweetheart?" He called out, grabbing his suitcase and pulling it to the stairs, slowly though, so you'd have enough time to right yourself. Within seconds, he heard the patter of feet on the hardwood floor upstairs, and just as he was ascending the stairs, you came scurrying down, stopping halfway when you saw him.
Your face lit up, lips curling into a wide smile. "Bill!" You exclaimed, scrambling towards him in the process. Bill let out a musical laugh as you collided with him, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face against his chest.
"Hello to you too," he murmured, smiling fondly down at you.
"How did you manage to get home early?!"
He shrugged. "Worked something out. I decided to surprise you."
"Well I'm definitely surprised." You pressed your face into his chest again. "Gosh, I missed you so much."
The words sent a pang through his chest, and he rubbed a hand over your back. "I know, I missed you too, sweet girl."
Slowly, you began to slip away, ready to head up the stairs with him in tow. But he stopped you, pulling you back so he could plant a gentle kiss on your lips. "I love you," he breathed, wanting you to know.
You kissed him back. "I love you too. C'mon, bring your suitcase up, let's get it unpacked so we don't have a six foot pile of laundry later on."
He did so, following you up the the stairs and to the bedroom. He noticed that you haphazardly made the bed moments before, erasing remnants of you ever being in it. Bill felt even worse then, wondering why you felt the need to hide such a thing from him.
He didn't say anything on the matter, though. He simply tried to push it from his mind and instead put his focus on getting settled. He placed his suitcase on the bed, but then stopped for a moment, remembering that your Christmas gifts were inside, unwrapped. "Um, can you close your eyes for a minute?" He asked you, "I have gifts in here that you aren't supposed to see."
Without a word, you turned around, waiting until he gave you the okay to turn back. Once he did so, you turned around with a beam on your face. "While you're unpacking, let me show you what I got for your brothers and parents!"
And so, things carried on. Bill began unpacking, you happily showed him the well thought out gifts you'd gotten for his family, and life began to slowly drift back to normal, the way it was before he'd left.
You were in that bedroom for an hour, sorting through laundry and talking. You spoke of your Christmas plans, what foods you should make to bring to the celebration. Seemingly mundane things that Bill realized he'd always taken for granted. He loved the constant of every day life. The routine. In the past, he never did enjoy it. But with you, he did. He loved you endlessly, and even doing something as boring as talking about which dish to prepare for Christmas dinner was entertainment enough for him.
"Bill?" His name being called was what drew him out of his thoughts. His eyes drifted to you, standing before him. "Did you hear me?"
"No...no."
"I said, are you hungry? It's near dinner time."
"Oh, sure. Yeah, I'm hungry."
You smiled. "Good, I was thinking of making some kind of pasta. I have some good wine in the cupboard that I've been wanting to crack open, too."
"Sounds perfect," he mused, letting you take his hand and pull him after you. In the kitchen, you told him to sit at the island while you got dinner ready, but he refused, insisting that he was going to help you. No more than twenty minutes later, a dinner of spaghetti puttanesca had been prepared, furnished with two generously filled wine glasses.
The two of you sat in the living room to eat. Something you normally didn't do, but this night was an exception. A cheesy Christmas movie played softly in the background while you sat together on the couch, your legs strewn across Bill's lap as you talked and enjoyed one another's company. Bill listened intently as you caught him up on everything he'd missed.
Though you were sharing stories all in good humor, Bill couldn't shake the feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach. He was missing so much of your life. And while that was just the way it was, when it came to both your careers, he still felt awful. As of late, you hadn't been talking as much. His schedule had been ridiculous, filming at odd hours, interviews in between, public events. You, on the other hand had been extremely busy with your teaching job. You were at work while he was either asleep or filming, and when he did have a few moments to spare, you, in turn, were sleeping due to the time differences.
"Bill!" Yet again, your voice jarred him from his thoughts. He blinked, gaze shifting to you, before you continued. "Did you hear what I just said?"
He offered an apologetic look. "No I didn't."
With a frown, you turned to set your plate down on the coffee table before leaning closer to him. "Is something wrong, baby?"
Bill sighed, shaking his head as he took your hands in his. "I'm just tired. Jet lagged, is all. Sorry."
You weren't sure if you believed him. You knew how he was when he was tired, and how he was when he had something on his mind. It seemed like he was both, in that moment. "You sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Now what were you saying?"
You shook your head then, pulling your legs off his lap. "It wasn't important." You slid off the couch, gathering your dishes to carry them back to the kitchen. Bill was quick to follow, practically bolting after you.
"Sweetheart, I'm sorry, I just-"
"You don't have to explain, Bill. It's okay, it really wasn't important." His shoulders slumped, and he stopped, watching as you set the dishes in the sink. You turned, taking note of the look on his face, and a soft smile played at your features. "How about you go have a nice shower and change into fresh clothes?"
"No, I'll help you wash the dishes."
"Bill," you continued with the raise of a brow. "That wasn't a suggestion. Go shower. You're tense, you need to loosen those muscles up under hot water."
And so, he did as he was told, slowly turning on his heel and ambling out of the kitchen. Upstairs, he ran the water hot, so hot is was nearly scalding, and after shedding his clothes, he stepped beneath the harsh stream. He let the water cascade down his back, a soft groan escaping his parted lips as he did so. The water did well to loosen his tight muscles, and he stood there for a long while, letting the nearly unbearable heat distract him from his troubles.
Almost thirty minutes later, he was finally stepping out of the shower, skin warm and pink. He toweled off, wrapping the plush fabric around his waist before opening the door and sauntering out of the en-suite bathroom. As he rifled through the drawers for clean clothes, he could hear the sound of Christmas music playing softly downstairs. He imagined you dancing along to it, and he smiled to himself at the thought. Without anymore dawdling, he grabbed some underwear, sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt, soon dressing himself before going downstairs.
Halfway down the steps, he realized he'd forgotten socks, so he turned back around and hurried back into the bedroom, plucking some wool socks from the drawer, shoving them on, and heading right back down the steps. Once he was downstairs, he found that you'd already finished cleaning the kitchen, and were now putting the finishing touches on two mugs of hot chocolate. You offered a wide smile, and a whipped cream topped mug as he approached you. Bill gladly took the cup from you, watching as you retrieved your own.
"How about we go finish that movie?" You suggested. He agreed, and the two of you made yourselves comfortable in the living room yet again. Bill tried to pay attention to the movie, he really did. It was your favorite, after all, and he always made it a point to get excited about your favorite things with you. But he couldn't bring himself to sit through the whole thing. His mind kept drifting far away, unable to stop thinking of what he'd seen earlier.
"I'm sorry, I'm just too tired to watch this," he murmured, moving to get up from his seat. You were quick to grab the remote and hit pause.
"I'll come to bed with you then," you suggested, already turning off the television before he could protest. As Bill headed upstairs, you took the time to turn off all the lights downstairs and make sure the doors were locked before following suit. Once you reached your bedroom, you found him turning down the bed covers, ready to climb onto the mattress.
Wordlessly, you strolled across the room, stopping to gather your pajamas. Your nightly routine commenced, as if Bill had never been gone. You changed into your pajamas, Christmas themed, of course. You carried on to the bathroom, leaving the door open in order to be able to talk to Bill while you commenced your skincare routine and brushed your teeth.
"I was thinking," you called over your shoulder, as you grabbed a wash cloth from the cupboard. "Maybe tomorrow we can take the littles to see Christmas lights. I think they'd love it, and it would get them out of Megan's hair for a few hours."
As you began washing your face, you heard no answer. "Bill, did you hear me?" Still no answer as you dried your face. With a huff, you stepped into the bathroom doorway, wondering if he'd fallen asleep. But Bill was perfectly awake, a faraway look in his eyes. You stared at him for a few moments before tossing your towel onto the bathroom counter. "Bill."
Slowly, he looked at you, suddenly coming back to reality. "What?"
"I was asking if you think Os and Kolbjörn would like to see Christmas lights with us tomorrow."
"Oh. Uh, yeah, sure. They'd love it."
Breathing out a soft sigh, you flipped off the bathroom light, padding over to the bed. "Baby, what's going on? You're not yourself."
"I'm just tired," he reiterated. You simply folded your arms over your chest, shooting him a look.
"Stop pulling the tired card on me. There's something bothering you, I can tell."
"It's not a big deal."
"Did something happen?"
"No, no, it's just-"
You cut him off. "I want you to be completely honest with me. There's something eating at you and I want to know what."
Bill looked at you for several moments, not uttering a word. Just when you were beginning to think that he wasn't going to reply, he opened his mouth. "I'm sorry," was what he said. "So, so sorry."
At his words, your brow furrowed in confusion. The tone in his voice had you dreading what he might say next. "Sorry for what?"
"For leaving you alone."
"Bill, you-" before you could finish, he was swinging his legs over the side of the bed, looking up at you as he took your hands in his and pulled you closer. "I saw you. Earlier today, when I got home. I came up to look for you and I saw you touching yourself."
At his confession, you became a little self conscious. "Oh?"
His thumbs rubbed gentle circles across the tops of your hands. "I was going to join you, but...it made me think. I'm the reason you had to do that. It's because I wasn't here, I left you alone."
"Babe, I touch myself all the time while you're gone. It's not a big deal. I mean yeah, it's not as good as the real thing, but it's a way to relieve tension. That's all."
He shook his head, knowing you better than that. "No, you were crying. I watched it all, I could hear it in your voice. You're having trouble with the distance, aren't you?" His voice was gentle, words carefully chosen.
It was your turn to go quiet, processing what he'd just said. In all truthfulness, you had been lonely. The last few months had been very hard for you, you'd missed Bill so much, painfully so, and while you tried to fill your life with bustle, nothing worked to fill that void within you. You were no stranger to distance, that was certain.
But this time around, he'd been gone longer than he ever had been before, and you were left at home, in a big, empty house, and plenty of time to think and let the loneliness eat you alive. It was then that you let your body sag in defeat. You'd tried to put on a strong face for him this whole time. Now it was time to break.
"It's so hard, Bill. I try to keep busy but my mind just fixates on the fact that I'm alone. I know it's your job, and I could never fault you for it. But I've been feeling so lonely these past few months. My mind plays tricks on me and I overthink everything. It's miserable. I'm miserable."
He reached up, placing his hands against your cheeks. His chest ached, and all he wanted to do was fix everything for you. "I'm so sorry, my love."
"You don't have to apologize. You can't help your schedule." You took a deep breath, letting your eyes flutter shut for a moment. "Am I selfish for feeling this way?"
His sweet eyes bored into your own, and he slowly shook his head. "No, you aren't selfish." Bill went quiet then, hands dropping down to rest against your hips as he pulled you closer. You took in a breath, the contact sending a shudder through you, even through the fabric of your pants.
"I don't want to be that girl that constantly demands attention and gets angry when you have to leave. I want to give you space to do what you love."
"You aren't that girl, trust me. You have dealt with this so well, you're so strong. And honestly, I don't deserve you. I never did."
You leaned down to press your lips to his, body relaxing at even the simplest of touches. "I love you," you breathed.
Bill pulled you into his lap, hand coming up to rest against the back of your neck. "Let me make it up to you."
"You don't have to do that."
"Yes I do. I owe it to you, I owe everything to you. I want to ease your pain."
Yet again, you closed your eyes. Your head fell to his shoulder, arms slipping around him. Soft lips pressed against warm skin, and you hummed, letting him know that it was okay. "Go ahead, I'm all yours."
Without another word, Bill was careful to place an arm behind you before swinging around, laying you across the mattress, your head against the pillows.
"I'm going to make love to you, alright?" You nodded, but you weren't quite sure if you wanted soft love making. The desire that had settled deep in your belly was primal, and you wanted it all hard, deep, fast. Nonetheless, you let Bill carry forth, ducking down to kiss your lips every so gently.
Never breaking eye contact, he began undressing you. First, your socks. Then your pants. Then your shirt, which finally left you in your underwear. Cutesy panties covered in little polar bears, furnished with a blue sports bra. Not your sexiest look, in your opinion, but Bill loved it. You were in your most comfortable state.
"So pretty," he mumbled, lips on yours again, hand slipping down the front of your body. "My pretty little girl."
That same hand pushed down into your panties, moving further until those fingers of his brushed against soft, wet heat. Despite your last orgasm having been hours ago, you were still quite slick, and it didn't take Bill long at all to work you up, get you soaked around his fingers.
Once he was satisfied, he tugged your panties off, soon disposing of your bra. He latched his mouth onto a nipple, sucking gently until it was hard against his tongue. He attended to the other one, all while kneading your breast with his large hand. You whimpered, relishing in the stimulation. He brought his free hand down between your legs again, sliding two fingers inside and slowly fucking you. You rolled your hips into his hand, much like you'd been doing earlier that day on your own.
At the sight of you writhing beneath him, Bill was already hard, and a tight coil of desire began to wind in his chest. He sucked at your neck, grazing teeth over throat, tongue over clavicle. He nipped at your lips, delved his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like the hot chocolate he'd just consumed.
And when he'd had enough, he began ridding himself of his clothes, quick as lightning. He parted your legs, enabling himself to fit between them. For just a little bit, he hovered over you, viridian eyes gazing into yours, memorizing every inch of your face. Still looking at you, he reached down, nimble fingers wrapping around hard flesh.
He offered a few tugs, at which he gasped, before he placed himself against your slick. Bracing himself above you, he watched as he sank into you, sheathed in your soft warmth. He didn't stop, only continued until he was bottoming out. It was then that his eyes flickered up to meet yours again.
An odd feeling began to blossom in his chest, tight and almost painful. You were one again, tethered together in the most intimate way imaginable, and it was overwhelming. He couldn't believe he'd deprived you for so long. Not only had you needed him to fulfill your emotional needs, but your physical needs as well.
He felt completely whole, and from the look on your face, he knew that you did, too. His eyes blurred with unshed tears, and he let his head drop, nuzzling his face against your neck. He stayed still, but you wanted more. You grabbed at him, heels digging into the soft flesh of his bottom, hoping this would encourage him to move. He whimpered against your neck, sorrowfully.
"Bill..." You whispered, "baby, move."
Slowly, he did. He rocked his hips into yours, just barely stimulating you where you so desperately needed it. You placed your mouth against his ear. "I need you to fuck me. I need it to hurt, please make it hurt."
With a groan, he lifted his head, looking right at you. "Are you sure?"
"Yes I'm sure, just do it already." He could sense your need, and with the way you were tightening around him, shifting to accommodate him, it sparked that same need within him. So, he gave you what you wanted. He moved back a little, pushing your legs further apart and capturing your lips in a kiss before snapping his hips into you.
You sucked in a strangled gasp, body jerking against his. He did it again, harder this time, and you knew that he was not going to disappoint you. He placed his hands on either side of your head, building up his own rhythm. Deep, jarring, hard. Your grunts and gasps entwined, falling into each other's mouths. You kept your legs wrapped around him, holding him to you.
Despite his more vigorous pace, it still wasn't enough for you. "Harder," you gritted out.
"Fuck," he hissed, though complying with your wishes. He firmly grasped your legs, shoving them up until your knees hit your chest, which gave him more range of motion. "You feel so goddamn good."
You didn't bother to hide the sounds that left your mouth. Unbridled moans, calls of his name, painful gasps. Your heart was pounding, filling your ears with the constant rhythm. Your lips found Bill's again, and you keened against his mouth, hands coming up to grip his hair.
"Tell me how good it feels," he breathed, consumed with the moment.
"O-oh god, so good."
"That's not good enough. Tell me how fucking good it feels."
You yelped as he offered a particularly hard thrust. "Fuck, baby, you fill me up so well, it feels s-so good," you cried, fingers digging into his scalp as you jerked against him. Then he snaked a hand down where your bodies connected, skilled fingers locating your swollen clit. He had your eyes rolling back in your head at that, and your mouth parted to let out a deep groan.
The feeling of him filling you, stretching you out, was unlike any other. It made your heart sing, body responding naturally to him, like you were made to fit together like this. He could pull the most animalistic sounds from you, raw and unfiltered, crying out his name, begging him for more.
Bill became just a little rougher, fucking you right into the mattress, just like you wanted him to. He clenched his jaw, focusing all his energy on you. You were falling apart, hair mussed, face contorted in painful pleasure, chest heaving.
He leaned down to latch his mouth onto your chest, sucking and biting more roughly than before. You were so sensitive, and he was unrelenting. At that point, he could feel you dripping, arousal soaking him as he carried on. You were a complete and utter mess, and it was all his doing.
"You take me so well," he breathed, "such a good girl."
You thrived on his praise, wanting nothing more than to be exactly that, his good girl. "B-Bill," you whimpered, "I wanna be on top."
Without a word, he was flipping you both over, hands firmly gripping your hips to keep you connected to him. He settled back against the mattress, and you splayed your hands across his chest, letting out a satisfied sigh before you began moving, oscillating your hips against him.
Bill watched through hazy eyes, taken by your beauty. As you built a fast, rough pace, your breasts bounced, your head fell back, and your lips parted to let out those lovely moans he loved so much. He reached up, large hands grasping at your chest, holding onto you as you moved.
His blunt nails scraped over hard nipples, and you couldn't help the mewl that crept its way out of your throat. Your head was spinning, body burning with such delicious heat. You were overcome with an intense need, a desperation like no other. You needed to reach your release, and you needed it now.
Gritting your teeth, you moved even faster, lifting yourself almost completely off of Bill, clenching your muscles around the very tip of his cock before slamming yourself right back down, pulling a rough "uh!" from his chest.
Your nails dug into his chest, painfully so. But the discomfort only brought him pleasure, and he found himself growing louder, your voices surely loud enough to be heard throughout the house.
All the while, you shoved your hand downwards, fingers pressing against your clit as you kept up your pace. Bill bit his lip hard at the sight of you, using him all for your pleasure. You could feel him throb within you, and you couldn't help the pride that blossomed within you. You were responsible for this, for making him so hard. It spurred you on further.
"Are you close?" You managed to gasp, staring down at him. You were growing fatigued, your thighs beginning to burn from the constant movement.
"Getting there," Bill grunted. He slid his hands down your back, nails scraping the skin ever so lightly. He took ahold of your ass, squeezing hard. "Fucking hell, you look so pretty riding my cock."
You were dripping with sweat at that point, and your thighs were quivering, muscles nearly ready to give out. "B-baby, I can't-" Before you could finish your sentence, you fell forward, right into Bill.
"Want me to take over?"
"Please."
And so, he did. He slid his hands down to your hips before he took control from you, thrusting upwards. From that position, he hit that oh so sensitive gathering of nerves within you that had you shouting his name. Smiling to himself, Bill kept up the sharp pace, hitting the right angle over and over again until you were trembling and on the verge of tears.
Without warning, he flipped your bodies back over, slamming you into the mattress and wrapping a hand around your throat before shoving his free hand between your legs yet again. His fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, not enough to restrict your breathing, but to cut off the blood flow for a few moments, sending a completely new wave of pleasure searing through your body. The pressure had you tightening around him, and he cursed.
You were on fire, hot to the touch, sweating, breathless, overwhelmed. Bill was murmuring deliciously disgusting things in your ear as he fucked into you, stimulating every possible nerve in you. Tears had begun to roll down the sides of your face, and your words had seemingly left you, replaced by incoherence.
You were losing touch with everything but the sensations you were feeling. Your eyes rolled back, mouth fell open, and back arched. The only thing you could manage was lifting your arm, tapping Bill's wrist twice - your predetermined gesture that let him know you wanted him to pull his hand away from your throat.
Instantly, he did so, stopping his movements altogether. "Are you alright?" He asked, concern evident in his voice.
"Y-yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just...keep going."
"Are you sure?" He wasn't about to continue if you couldn't handle it. But you were perfectly fine, and you let him know this with a kiss to the lips.
"Yes," you respired, "I-I want you to finish me off. Please." You sounded so urgent, so needy, that Bill could do nothing more than just as you asked.
He clashed his lips to yours before he continued at the same pace he had been keeping before. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him for dear life as he ravished you entirely. There it was again, that familiar heat, bubbling to life deep within your belly like molten lava.
Your muscles tensed, and Bill could feel it. Letting his forehead fall against yours, he spoke. "It's okay. Just let it happen, come for me."
You clawed at his shoulders, holding tight, anchoring yourself to him. Your body climbed that peak. It was there, sure enough, but it was just out of reach, and it made you want to scream. Bill's fingers pressed harder against your clit, unrelenting and fast. His cock hit that spot inside you repeatedly, sending knots coiling in your stomach. You begged, gasped, whimpered, cried. All of it was music to Bill's ears.
He leaned closer, mouth barely brushing against your own as he clenched his jaw, staring right into your eyes as he slammed his hips right into you, harder than before. "I said, fucking come for me. Drench my cock, sweetheart. Make a mess."
His eyes were fierce, and his face was hard set in determination. You gasped sharply, jerking against him as your body neared the end. You tried to tell him, tried to force the words out of your mouth, but you couldn't. Every single emotion and sensation came crashing into you at once, and you came with a howl, your release surging from you, wet and hot, soaking his cock and the sheets below.
A high pitched groan slipped from Bill's mouth at the feeling, your muscles clamping down enough to make it harder to move. He kissed you on the mouth, swallowing your cries as his thrusts grew a bit slower, but deep and deliberate.
"I love you," he sighed, the words dancing into your mouth, ringing through your head, manifesting in your heart. He closed his eyes as he came, his beautiful face twisting into that of pure, unrefined pleasure as he coated your still throbbing walls in his pearlescent essence.
"I love you too," you whispered into his ear as he slumped against you, utterly spent. His swollen lips left sweet kisses along your shoulder, trailing up your neck, jaw, and finally lips.
He pulled out of you then, and you could feel his release drip out of you the moment he did. His tender fingers skimmed over your cheek, and he gazed down at you. "You okay?"
"Never better," you murmured. "I'm gonna be sore tomorrow, though."
He smiled. "I'll run us a bath. How's that sound?"
"It sounds amazing."
So, he busied himself with preparing a bath. While the water ran, he cleaned himself up, then proceeded to pour copious amounts of vanilla scented bubble bath into the almost too hot water.
"Alright, sweetheart," he announced, sauntering out of the bathroom and to the bed. "The water is ready." He swiftly lifted you into his arms, eliciting a soft giggle from you as he carried you to the bathroom. He carefully set you in the water before following suit, sliding in behind you and thanking the universe that this house had a bathtub big enough for his long limbs.
The moment he was settled, you leaned back into his chest, sighing in contentment. His arms slipped around you, and he held you to him. He could feel you relax, months worth of stress and tension leaving your body. Bill kissed the top of your head, heart swelling with love, and a little regret, for he knew that he was the reason for that tension in the first place.
He promised himself right then that he was going to do everything in his power to make it up to you in the coming weeks that he had with you. He was going to put you first in all that he did, because that was the way he knew it had to be.
"You come first," he whispered. so softly you thought you were hearing things.
"What?"
"You come first. From now on, you come first. I'm going to make damn sure you never feel so alone again, alright?"
"Bill, it's o-"
"No, it's not okay. I caused you pain, and I never want to do that again. I love you, I have to put you first. Always and forever."
You turned, water sloshing about as you did so. Bill's eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and a look of sincerity was painted across his handsome face. You reached up, wet hand pressing against warm cheek. You didn't say anything, you didn't have to.
You thanked him by connecting your lips with his, wrapping your arms around his bare body, and nuzzling yourself into his chest. You sat there, enjoying one another's sweet company, your hearts intertwining all over again in this shared moment.
The night grew silent, just as the winter snow that fell outside your little home. After all, no more words were needed. Being in one another's presence was more than enough, and for the first time in months, you no longer felt alone. You felt whole.