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They had been just a moment in each other’s lives. A fragile, incandescent moment neither of them knew how to hold onto. They were too young to understand that some connections don’t ask for permission before becoming permanent. Too afraid of distance, of timing, of wanting too much. So they let silence grow where honesty should have lived, convincing themselves that one night could never shape an entire lifetime.
But it did.
Ten years ago, they shared something that was never meant to survive beyond the moment. He was older, already stepping into a life that would take him across cities, countries, and versions of himself he hadn’t yet met. She was still becoming, still learning how to exist in a world that constantly demanded strength before she felt ready to give it. They never made promises. Never gave themselves the language to define what they were. And yet, what they had didn’t disappear.
It stayed.
Quiet. Unfinished. Waiting beneath every song he wrote and every life she built.
Ten years passed. Ten years of pretending it had been easier to let go. Ten years of convincing himself that distance had made the choice for them, that silence had been kindness, that leaving things untouched meant leaving them unbroken. But somewhere deep inside him, beyond logic, beyond pride, he had never stopped longing for her. Never stopped wondering what would have happened if he had been brave enough to stay. If he had been brave enough to come back.
He had told himself there was nothing he could do. The truth was, there always had been, he just hadn’t known how to return to something that had never really left him.
The silence that followed was heavy, filled with ragged breathing, the smell of sex, sweat, and love scattered through every corner of the room. But it wasn’t peace. It was the kind of silence that comes before another collapse, another explosion, another cycle of hunger and pleasure.
Jolly still held her in his arms, her legs open around his waist, her chest pressed against his, his arms completely wrapped around her as if he could actually fuse them into a single body.
He kissed her shoulder, her jaw, her forehead, with that absurd tenderness that always came right after the savagery. His hand moved slowly along the sides of her body, up and down, soothing — or trying to.
Because in the middle of that tenderness, he felt it.
The way her hips moved, involuntary. Her nails lightly scraping his back. Her hands pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck. And that look… that look of someone who definitely wasn’t willing to stop.
— Baby... — he whispered, his voice hoarse, almost breaking. — You’re insatiable...
She laughed, that low, breathless, needy laugh, as she gently bit his shoulder. — You make me like this...
He inhaled deeply, holding her tighter, as if anything less than his full strength wouldn’t be enough to keep her there.
— Yeah? You want more? — he asked, brushing his mouth along her chin, then lower, lightly biting her collarbone. — You think you can handle more?
She didn’t answer. She just pushed her hips against him — and he felt it. The way she was already pulsing, begging, trembling, full of need.
His laugh turned into a low, rough groan, pure desire. His hand moved down, gripping her ass firmly, pulling her closer, and then he shifted on the bed, laying back and bringing her with him, settling her on top of him.
— Ride me. — His voice was no longer a request. It was a sentence. — Show me how much you want it.
She moaned, holding onto his chest, arching her back, her breasts rising and falling, her marked skin, her trembling thighs. God, she looked like delicious torture.
And without waiting another second, she slid down. Slowly. Deeply. Letting him fill her completely, every inch, until she was fully seated, until both of them moaned loudly at the same time, like the air had been ripped from their lungs.
— Fuck... — He threw his head back, gripping her thighs. — Just like that... fuck, baby...
She started to move. Slowly at first, rolling her hips, squeezing, feeling. And then faster, rising, falling, bouncing, moaning so loudly it felt like nothing existed beyond that room.
— Look at you... — he panted, holding her hips, guiding her movement, gripping hard enough to leave marks for days. — So fucking perfect...
The sound of their bodies colliding — wet, sweaty, filthy — filled everything. The sound of moans, gasps, dragged-out words.
She threw her head back, holding his shoulders, feeling him so deep, so right, so overwhelming that her body could no longer tell the difference between pleasure, love, or collapse. She only knew he was there. Inside her. Over her. Around her. Everywhere.
And then he grabbed the back of her neck again, pulling her forward, making her lay against him. His mouth pressed against her ear, teeth grazing, hands sliding down her back, her thighs, gripping, guiding, controlling.
— You’re mine... — he whispered, growled, bit. — All fucking mine.
He grabbed her hips, shifting position in one quick movement, rolling her beneath him, her back against the bed, her legs open, him settled between them, holding her knees to spread her wider, to see everything, to watch the way she trembled and begged without words.
— Look how fucking perfect you are... — he growled, looking over her entire body. — Look at that... look how you take me...
And then he pushed inside again — deep, hard, crushing, holding her down, groaning against her chest, her neck, biting, scratching, driving into her without mercy, nothing but desire, nothing but hunger, nothing but raw, savage, possessive love.
Jolly grabbed her hands, lifting them above her head, pinning her wrists with one hand while the other held her chin, forcing her to look at him, at that perfect collapse that only existed between them.
— Cum with me. Now. — The command came low, rough, more broken than anything else. — Now, baby. Now.
And she shattered.
Her entire body failed, arched, trembling, screaming his name, while he groaned louder, deeper, coming inside her again, holding her completely, crushing her against him like he could actually fuse them into one being.
When it was over, he didn’t let go. Didn’t want to. Couldn’t.
They stayed there, trembling, sweating, pressed together, breathing like they’d just been pulled out from underwater.
He kissed her mouth. Not savage this time. Gentle. Tender. Love. The kind of kiss that said everything without needing words.
— I love you. — he whispered, his voice as broken as hers. — So fucking much...
— I love you… — she replied, smiling, ruined, marked, full of him, his scent, his taste, their love. — More than anything...
And they stayed like that.
The silence after that second shared orgasm was only a pause. A heavy, loaded pause, full of bodies pressed together, sweat-slick skin, uneven breathing, and their unmistakable scent filling the entire room.
Jolly was still on top of her, close, kissing her jaw, his hand moving slowly along her ribs as if memorizing every inch of her skin, every curve, every trace of her. And at the same time, he felt it.
The way her body moved, even without her realizing it. Her legs opening more, even after everything. Her hips seeking more contact, more friction, more… more of him.
He smiled against her skin, that dirty, rough smile she knew so well.
— Baby... — his voice came low, strained, pure hunger. — You’re not done… are you?
She bit her lip, laughing softly, breathless, trembling. — Never...
He slowly sat up, kneeling between her legs, looking at her there — completely open, marked, sweat-covered, her eyes unfocused, her thighs trembling, her chest rising and falling fast. And still, beautiful. Incredibly beautiful.
His hand slid slowly along her thighs, moving up, lightly scratching, gripping her hips.
— You’re a fucking masterpiece...
She smiled, biting her lip, and opened her legs wider, offering herself, provoking him.
— Then do something about it...
The sound he made wasn’t a groan anymore. It was almost a growl.
Jolly grabbed her by the knees, pulling her closer, and lowered himself, his mouth pressing against the inside of her thigh, then closer to her center, kissing, licking, sucking, like he’d never touched her before, like he had to learn her all over again, like it would never be enough.
His tongue was slow, deep, merciless. Alternating between slow licks just to make her writhe, and harder suction that tore louder, more broken sounds from her.
— Oh fuck... — he breathed, biting the inside of her thigh, looking up at her, his dark brown eyes consumed by desire as his fingers pressed into that specific place inside her. — Look at you falling apart again... so perfect... so messy...
And she broke. Again.
Her entire body arching, trembling, the orgasm ripping through her, tearing everything apart, throwing her outside herself, lost in him, in his mouth, in the filthy, overwhelming love he poured into her.
But he didn’t stop.
He moved up, holding her by the waist, kneeling in front of her. One hand grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him, the other wrapped around himself, hard, throbbing, pulsing like he hadn’t just come inside her twice.
And he started stroking himself right there. In front of her.
The sound of skin against skin, wet, heavy, filthy, filled the entire room along with his groans, her gasps, their broken breathing.
— You love this, don’t you? — he panted, gripping himself tighter. — You love watching me fall apart for you... fuck...
She couldn’t answer. She could only watch. Only gasp. Only hold herself, her legs closing and opening, lost, trembling, begging with nothing but her body.
— I’m gonna... fuck... I’m gonna cum... all over you... — he growled, tightening his grip, moving faster. — Watch me... look at me... don’t you fucking look away...
And she looked. God, she looked.
The first hot spurt hit her stomach, spreading across her skin. The second, stronger, landed on her chest, dripping down toward her navel. The third, weaker, slid across her skin, warm, marking her.
And he groaned, trembled, watching her like she was everything.
When he finished, breathing like he’d run a marathon, he laid her on her side, pulling her close, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world — and she was.
Her face buried in his chest. Their legs tangled. His hands moving slowly along her back, drawing soft circles, soothing, protecting, caring.
— I can’t believe I waited 10 years to be with you again... — he whispered, kissing the top of her head. — I loved you since that first time. More than anything. More than anyone.
She smiled, eyes closed, melted, whole, ruined, loved.
— I love you too, Jolly… I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.
And there, in the middle of tangled sheets, the smell of sex and love surrounding them, they stayed.
Just them. Just love. Just everything.