You were curled up on the couch, knees hugged to your chest, cheeks damp from crying. The day had crushed you in ways you hadn’t expected—every word from your boss, every unread message, every ounce of exhaustion building until you snapped. The room felt too big, too cold… until the door opened.
“Honey?”
His voice. It was soft, uncertain—Xavier stood in the doorway, backlit by fading evening light, eyes searching until they found yours.
You stood without thinking, and the second he opened his arms, you rushed into them. His warmth surrounded you like a shield, a place you hadn’t felt safe in for far too long. His hand came up to your hair, cradling your head gently. You held on tighter.
“I missed you,” you breathed, voice shaking.
He was about to respond, but you lifted your face, tears still clinging to your lashes, and kissed him. A deep, desperate kiss.
“My love—” he mumbled against your lips, slightly startled, but you didn’t stop. Your hands gripped the front of his shirt as if it were the only thing tethering you to the ground.
“Mmh—you’re upset?” he whispered as you kissed him again, voice muffled and breathless. “Do you… do you wanna talk first?”
“I don’t want to talk,” you murmured, dragging your fingers through his hair, pressing another kiss to his jaw, his lips, his neck. “I just need you.”
He froze. His hands gently curled around your arms, uncertain. “It’s not fair to me if you’re only doing this because you’re hurting…”
You looked up at him, eyes dark and pleading. “Stop refusing me, Xavier.”
His breath caught. “Honey…”
You didn’t give him space to overthink. You kissed him again, slower this time—still desperate, but laced with longing. The kind that made him shudder as he gave in, finally wrapping his arms around you completely, pressing his forehead to yours.
“If you need me,” he said hoarsely, “then I’m here. But only if this… really is what you want.”
Your fingers trailed down his neck, your lips brushing against his once more.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
Xavier’s eyes searched yours, still hesitant—but your certainty, the trembling honesty in your voice, quieted his doubts. He touched your cheek, brushing a tear away with the pad of his thumb. It feels like the softest wipe of tears. Then he kissed you back—slow, warm, and full of emotion.
It wasn’t rushed now. It was deep.
His lips moved with yours, carefully at first, then with growing hunger, matching the longing you’d held in all this time. His hands slid along your waist, grounding you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies.
You clung to him, needing to feel him, needing the comfort only he could give. The way his breath hitched when your fingers slipped beneath his shirt sent a wave of heat through you. He didn’t stop you. He leaned into your touch, kissing you harder now, like he’d missed you just as much.
You felt his heartbeat against your chest—fast, unguarded. Your own pulse raced with it.
His voice was low, rough when he finally spoke again. “You really have no idea what you do to me.”
You smiled softly against his lips. “Then show me.”
He guided you gently toward the bed, never breaking contact. Even in the urgency of your kisses, his hands remained gentle, reverent—like he was still making sure this was what you wanted, still giving you every chance to pull away. You didn’t.
When you lay back, he hovered over you, brushing your hair out of your face as he kissed your forehead, your temple, your lips again. Slower now. Deeper.
“Let me take care of you,” he murmured.
You nodded, pulling him down to you. And he did.
He kissed away your tears. He let you hold him tight. He moved with you in a rhythm that wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, intimate, raw. Every touch, every whispered breath was his way of saying he was here. For you. Not just now, but always.
And when it was over, and your bodies were tangled together under the covers, his arms wrapped around you protectively, he didn’t say anything at first. He just held you.
Until finally, he whispered, “Whatever’s hurting you… we’ll face it together. You’re not alone, My Love. You never have to be.”
Your fingers laced with his. You rested your forehead against his chest and let yourself breathe again.
“I know,” you whispered. “Not anymore.”
—-
The morning crept in slowly, pale golden sunlight spilling across the room like a whisper. You stirred beneath the covers, still wrapped in the warmth of Xavier’s body. His arm was draped across your waist, fingers splayed like he was afraid to let go, even in sleep.
You didn’t want to move. His heartbeat was a steady, quiet rhythm against your back. Comforting. Safe.
Then you felt it—his lips brushing against the bare curve of your shoulder, soft and unhurried.
“You’re awake,” you murmured.
“I was watching you breathe,” he said, voice rough with sleep. “You looked peaceful. For once.”
You turned to face him. His hair was messy, one eye still half-closed, but he looked at you like the world had stopped spinning just for this moment. Like you were the only thing that mattered.
“I still feel… heavy,” you admitted. “But not like last night.”
He nodded slowly. “Because you’re not carrying it alone now.”
You reached up to trace the edge of his jaw with your fingers. “You always know what to say.”
He smiled faintly, then kissed your palm. “No, I don’t. I just say what I mean.”
You let your hand fall to his chest, where you could feel his heart. Still steady. Still warm. “I needed you. I still do.”
Xavier leaned in and kissed your forehead—tender and grounding. “I’m not going anywhere.”
There was a pause, comfortable and filled with unsaid things. And then, lighter:
“…I drooled a little in my sleep, didn’t I?” you teased, nudging him.
He raised an eyebrow, deadpan. “You did. Right here,” he said, pointing dramatically to his chest. “I’m deeply traumatized.”
You burst into soft laughter, and he looked so proud of himself for pulling that sound from you, like it was the most valuable thing in the world.
“I missed this,” you said.
He kissed your nose, then your lips—slower this time, gentle and full of affection. “So did I.”
Your bodies tangled again beneath the sheets, not rushed, not desperate—just connected. His touch was patient now, exploring you like you were something to be memorized, not consumed. Every caress was a promise. Every kiss, a reminder: you were loved. You were safe.
Later, wrapped up in him again, your head on his chest and your hand in his, Xavier whispered, “Let’s stay like this a little longer. Just us. No world. No pressure. Just you and me.”
And for once, that was enough.
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