Chapter Text
Lucy woke from a dream that felt too good to lose.
She’d been standing on a mountain somewhere wild and bright, wind catching the edges of a white dress she hadn’t realized she was wearing. Tim had stood at her side — clean-shaven and grinning like she was the only thing that had ever mattered — and her friends and family had watched from below, all sunlight and smiles and something unspoken in the air, like a promise.
Her first conscious thought was a disgruntled damn, because she had really wanted to see how that dream ended.
But then she felt it — warm breath and the slow drag of a tongue across the inside of her thigh. Rough stubble grazed the sensitive skin near her center, and her breath caught in her throat, her entire body tightening in response.
Oh. Not a dream. Better.
The heat of him was undeniable, unmistakable — the kind of focus that could only be Tim Bradford when he had a mission and no intention of stopping. And this morning? She was apparently the mission.
She tried to keep still, to keep her breathing steady like she hadn’t just woken up with his mouth already between her thighs. But then that same tongue slid flat and deliberate along her folds, followed by a slow, deliberate suck at her clit — and all hope of keeping quiet or still vanished completely.
Her hips jerked up with a soft gasp.
Pleasure bloomed low and hot in her belly, a slow wave that crested with each careful, unhurried movement of his mouth. He worked her open with reverence, like every inch of her mattered, like he could spend all morning mapping her pulse with his tongue.
And God, it was good. Hot and sweet and dizzying. Her thighs trembled slightly with the effort of staying relaxed under his slow-burning worship, and every time his tongue circled her clit, it lit up a new nerve, like her body was learning how to respond from scratch.
She whimpered before she could stop herself, reaching down blindly to grab the edge of the blanket. She tugged it up, heart thudding in her chest, and the soft morning light let her glimpse the top of his head — the messy halo of brown hair, the strong shoulders locked in focus, and then, finally, his eyes lifting to meet hers.
Those blue eyes wrecked her. Affection poured out of them like sunlight through cracks in a wall. He was flushed from effort, stubble dark against his jaw, lips slick with her — and still, the only thing he looked at was her face.
“Good morning, baby,” he rasped, voice low and thick with warmth.
Then he dipped back under the covers before she could even answer, tongue slipping inside her as she cried out, hips rising off the mattress involuntarily.
“Shh,” he says, voice muffled against her skin. “Just let me take care of you.”
She sinks back, heart pounding. His hands hold her steady, thumbs pressing into the softness of her hips as he licks a slow, devastating stripe that makes her back arch.
God, he’s good at this.
There’s something decadent about being worshipped half-awake, about being slowly undone before her brain can build walls. She’s soft with sleep and softer under his mouth, pliant and panting before long, one hand is clawing at his shoulders the other gripping his hair.
He moans into her like she tastes like everything he’s ever wanted. And maybe she does.
Lucy can’t keep quiet. Doesn’t even try.
Her breath hitches with every sweep of his tongue, every gentle suck, every press of his mouth like a promise. Her legs tremble. Her hips roll without thinking.
“Tim—fuck, I’m—”
She falls apart like she’s been waiting for it all night. One hand slams against the mattress, the other blindly grips the headboard as her climax shudders through her. Long and hot and helpless.
When she comes down, she’s gasping.
The blanket shifts as he rises, kissing a trail up her body — across her stomach, between her breasts, along her throat — before finally reaching her mouth.
She kisses him with everything she has, tasting herself on his tongue, hands fisting in his hair.
“Good morning,” she says finally, dazed and flushed and wrecked.
Tim just grins. “Hey there, was wondering when you’d wake up. It’s gonna be a big day today.”
She blinks up at him, still struggling to reboot her brain. “Not all of us are hardwired to get up at 5 Tim. What are you—?”
“Get dressed Angel,” he murmurs, brushing hair off her face. “You’ll want something comfortable. And sturdy shoes.”
She narrows her eyes, suspicious and still breathless. “Wait. Are you taking me on some secret mission? Is this a ‘don’t ask questions’ situation?”
“Something like that,” he says, already moving out of bed and tugging on a t-shirt. “You’ll like it. I promise.”
Lucy groans into her pillow. “You ambushed me with sex and now you’re being cryptic. You’re lucky I love you.”
He leans back over her and kisses her temple. “I’m counting on it, now go get ready. I’ll be back in 30 minutes.”
==
Tim pulled up just as Lucy finished tying her shoes, the morning light spilling soft and golden across the driveway. Kojo hopped out of the truck, tail wagging furiously, nose twitching as he sniffed the air around her.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Tim said, grinning as he handed her a steaming cup of coffee.
Lucy smiled back, her heart fluttering at how normal this felt—coffee in hand, Kojo bounding, Tim leaning against the truck. But then her eyes flicked to the passenger seat.
There was a little box there - black wrapping paper with a red bow on top, flat probably clothing?
Tim’s hand brushed hers as he reached over to the passenger seat, his voice low and teasing. “That’s for you, but not till we get where we’re going. Think you can wait, babygirl?”
Lucy’s heart fluttered. She smiled against the morning light streaming through the windshield. “Absolutely,” she breathed, fingers tightening around his.
Lucy settled beside Tim, coffee in hand, the sun warming her skin through the open window. The soft hum of the engine blended with Kojo’s contented panting, and for a moment, everything felt simple and good.
“Thanks for the coffee,” she said, reaching over to squeeze his hand.
Tim glanced at her with a crooked smile. “You’re welcome. Figured you’d need the fuel.”
Lucy grinned. “Yeah, and you?”
“Been up for a while,” he admitted. “Had a good reason.”
She raised an eyebrow, but he just winked.
Kojo settled between them, occasionally nudging Tim’s arm with his wet nose. The truck hummed softly beneath their easy silence, windows down just enough for the fresh pine-scented air to drift inside.
Tim hummed a lazy tune under his breath, his eyes flickering to hers with warmth that made her cheeks flush.
When they pulled up to the trailhead, Tim switched off the engine, the sudden quiet filling the cab with a hush except for the soft panting of Kojo resting in the back. Outside, the early morning sun filtered through the tall pines, casting long shadows that danced gently on the gravel parking lot. A cool breeze whispered through the leaves, carrying the crisp scent of damp earth and wildflowers.
Tim turned toward her with that familiar half-smile — the one that always made her pulse quicken — his eyes gleaming with something wickedly sweet and just a little dangerous.
“Open it.”
Lucy’s fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the small black box nestled on the passenger seat. The satin ribbon was smooth between her fingertips as she untied it slowly, unwilling to rush this moment. Peeling back the black tissue paper, her breath caught sharply in her throat.
There it was: delicate lace, soft and inviting, folded just so — crotchless, elegant, and impossibly sexy. The sight of it made a shiver run down her spine.
Tim leaned in, his voice dropping low and gravelly.
“Last night I believe you said I could have you anyway I wanted if I was good.” he said, “I certainly remember you saying I did good so I’m cashing in. You’re gonna change into that and wear it until I fuck you later tonight.”
Lucy’s cheeks flamed, the heat rising through her chest, but before she could even gather her thoughts, he added,
“And you’re gonna change into it now. But you better hurry — who knows who else might show up. It’s early, but not that early.”
She glanced around the quiet parking area and wooded path, her eyes flicking between the scattered cars and shaded picnic tables. The trailhead was mostly empty — a few early hikers far down the path, a lone cyclist pulling into the distance — but that thought added a delicious edge of risk to the moment. Not that she could resist.
Lucy didn’t hesitate. Her hands were shaking slightly as she slipped out of her clothes quickly, the cool morning air prickling against her bare skin. Heart pounding, she slid into the lace, the intricate pattern hugging her curves, the crotchless design sending a thrilling spark of vulnerability and excitement through her.
Tim pulled out his phone, his grin widening as he pressed record.
“Perfect,” he murmured, watching her. “Beautiful, just for me.”
Lucy bit her lip, catching his gaze. “You’re terrible.”
He laughed softly, a warm sound that made her pulse race even faster.
“Only for you, Angel.”
She turned slightly, trying to look casual despite the fire burning low and steady between them, the gentle rustle of leaves the only witness to their little secret.
They walked on, the conversation drifting between memories and light teasing — the way Kojo always thought he was the boss, Tim’s stubborn insistence on navigating without a map, Lucy’s endless questions about the plants they passed.
At one bend, Lucy paused to take a deep breath and look back down the valley. The town looked tiny from here, a patchwork of roofs and roads nestled in the embrace of hills.
Kojo trotted back to them, tongue lolling happily.
Tim reached out, brushing a leaf from Lucy’s hair. “Almost there.”
When they rounded the final turn, the trail opened onto a rocky overlook. The view stretched wide — rolling hills fading into distant mountains under a sky painted soft blue and white.
Tim stepped close behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist as Kojo sniffed curiously at the wildflowers dotting the rocks.
Tim gently caught Lucy’s arm, holding her back as she started to move forward toward the edge. His touch was firm but tender, grounding them both in this quiet moment away from everything.
He took a deep breath, eyes locking with hers. The soft breeze teased strands of her hair across her face, and his heart pounded in his chest.
“Lucy...” His voice was low, steady, but full of emotion. “I’ve fallen in love with you three times.”
She blinked, searching his face, her breath catching with the sudden weight of what he was about to say.
“The first time was the very first night you worked your rookie shift.” He smiled, the memory clear in his mind. “You told me I was a pain in your ass. Not exactly how most people say they start falling for someone, but damn, that was the moment you got under my skin.”
He stepped closer, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“The second time... I don’t even think I knew it was happening. Somewhere between the twelve minutes you were late to work — which, by the way, had me pacing like a damn fool — and the eight hours it took to find you that night, I realized I was thinking about you when I shouldn’t have been. You were stuck, and all I could do was want to bring you home safe.”
Lucy’s eyes glistened, her lips parting in a small, quiet smile.
“And the third time was after that undercover job. When you kissed me.” He swallowed hard, voice catching just a little. “That was when I knew I wasn’t fooling myself anymore. I was falling in love with you — for real.”
He reached down slowly, pulling a small box from his pocket. His knees touched the earth, steady and sure, as he opened it to reveal the simple, elegant ring inside.
“And right now...” His gaze lifted to hers, warm and fierce. “Right now, I’m falling in love with you all over again. I want to keep falling in love with you, every single day, for the rest of my life.”
His hand trembled slightly as he held the ring toward her. “Lucy Chen... will you marry me?”
Lucy’s breath hitched, her heart pounding so loud she thought he might hear it. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the stunning view before her—but all she could focus on was Tim, kneeling there with that hopeful, vulnerable look.
“Tim...” she whispered, voice thick. “Yes. Of course, yes.”
The knot in her chest untangled as relief and joy crashed through her. She smiled through the tears, a soft laugh bubbling up as she dropped to her knees beside him, pulling him into a fierce, trembling kiss.
His hands cradled her face gently, thumbs stroking her cheekbones as he kissed her back, slow and reverent—like he was committing every moment to memory.
They held each other there, letting the world fade away—the fresh air, the rustle of leaves, the warm sun kissing their skin—all just the backdrop to this perfect, unrepeatable moment.
As they finally parted, still wrapped in each other’s arms, the sound of joyful panting interrupted them.
Kojo came trotting back, tail wagging wildly, jumping up and showering them with enthusiastic licks as if he understood exactly what had just happened.
It was a good day.
==
The café smelled like fresh coffee and warm pastries, sunlight spilling through the windows and catching in the dust motes dancing above the wooden tables. Kojo sat patiently by their feet, his tail thumping softly against the floor, his eyes bright and alert, clearly enjoying the easy, relaxed vibe.
Lucy barely noticed any of it.
Her gaze kept drifting down to her hand, where the delicate ring glinted on her finger, catching every stray sunbeam like a secret light only she could see.
She kept turning her hand this way and that, marveling at the weight of it, the promise of it.
Tim caught her staring, a crooked grin tugging at his lips from his place beside her. “You like it?”
Lucy glanced up, cheeks warm. “I love it.”
Tim’s grin deepened, eyes sparkling with wicked amusement. “Glad you like the gift. Though I gotta say... I wish your other present was getting as much love.”
Her pulse quickened before he added, low and teasing, “You could make this whole brunch a lot more interesting if you just said the word.”
Lucy’s cheeks flushed deeper, heat creeping up her neck.
“Come on,” he whispered, fingers sliding over the back of her hand in slow, lazy circles. “We have the whole day to celebrate properly. I’m already planning how I’m going to worship you tonight. But hey, a little early appetizer couldn’t hurt.”
Her breath caught.
She glanced around, scanning the cozy café. Most of the other patrons were lost in their own conversations, buried in laptops or dog-watching like them. A couple at the next table cast a glance their way but didn’t linger. The half-wall by the sidewalk offered a bit of privacy, and Kojo sat quietly on the far side, content to chew on a treat.
You know you want to.
Tim’s voice echoed in her head, and when she met his gaze, she could see how sure he was of her answer. She leaned into him, letting his arm wrap fully around her shoulders. She kissed him—slow, deep, with the kind of promise that made her stomach flutter—and then whispered just one word against his lips.
“Yes.”
His grin was devastating.
She gasped softly as his fingers found the waistband of her leggings and eased beneath, finding skin. The lace was cool against her overheated flesh as he brushed over it, then lower still—his fingers gliding through slick heat like he already knew exactly how ready she was for him.
“Still warm from earlier,” he murmured casually, like he was commenting on the weather.
He stroked her with maddening patience, feather-light at first. Enough to make her shift in her seat. Enough to make her legs tense and thighs press together. But not nearly enough to satisfy.
The world around them didn’t falter—the hum of light jazz from inside, the occasional bark from a nearby dog, the clink of forks on porcelain. Somewhere across the street, someone shouted a greeting and a skateboard rolled past. Normal life.
The heel of Tim’s palm pressed into her clit with slow, lazy pressure that was anything but casual. It rolled with each subtle movement of his wrist, his middle finger sliding between folds slick with arousal. The angle had her squirming, barely breathing, caught somewhere between panic and pleasure.
Just as she opened her mouth to say something—anything—their waitress appeared.
“Can I get you two anything?” she asked brightly, unaware.
Tim didn’t miss a beat. “We’ll have two croissants and coffees, please. Black for me, something sweet for her—surprise her. This is apparently where she had the best croissant of her life. Isn’t that right honey?”
Lucy blinked at her, trying not to tremble. She opened her mouth to thank her—to say something —and that was exactly when Tim added a second finger inside her and pushed. Her breath caught with a soft, choked sound that might’ve passed for a cough. The waitress turned away none the wiser, and Lucy’s fingers dug into the edge of the bench.
“Ye-yeah. Best chocolate croissants anywhere,” Lucy said, her voice just barely steady as she forced a bright smile.
Tim didn’t miss a beat. “Do you still have those dog safe cookies? We’ll need one of those.”
The waitress beamed down at Kojo, who gave a happy little wag of his tail in response. “Yep! We’ve got some sweet potato dog cookies that’ll set this little guy up nicely. I’ll be right back!”
As she turned and walked away, Lucy exhaled like she’d been holding her breath the entire time.
The moment the waitress’s back was fully turned, Tim’s focus slid back to her. He leaned against the table’s edge, still looking maddeningly relaxed.
Lucy shifted in her seat, trying to subtly adjust her posture—an impossible task with his fingers still idly teasing between her thighs.
The café air smelled like cinnamon and warm butter, with the occasional whiff of car exhaust drifting from the street. Someone behind them sneezed. Another dog barked in protest.
And no one knew.
No one knew her fiancé had his hand buried beneath her clothes and was stroking her into a quiet frenzy while talking about brunch like he didn’t have her trembling on the edge of control.
Her breath was shallow, her pulse thundering in her ears.
She shot him a glare—weak at best, especially with her hips twitching forward, chasing the pressure she craved. His fingers moved again, just enough to make her inhale sharply. His thumb brushed against her clit with maddening precision, and her eyelids fluttered.
“Careful,” he whispered, leaning in like he was going to kiss her again. “Someone might see how much you like this.”
Lucy swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak.
“You’re evil,” she hissed.
He grinned against her skin. “You said I could have you anyway I wanted. This is what I want, Angel.”
She bit her lip to keep from groaning, closing her eyes for a beat before opening them again, trying desperately to keep it together while Kojo thumped his tail against the wall, completely oblivious.
“Keep it together, baby,” Tim said, brushing her hair back with the same hand that wasn’t currently driving her insane under the table. “We’ve still got brunch to get through. And then I’m going to take you home, lay you out, and remind you exactly who you said yes to.”
Lucy wanted to tell him to take her home right now—screw the croissants, screw the coffee. But something in her face must’ve given her away, because his fingers stilled for just a moment, shifting to trace soft, grounding circles against her hip instead. The teasing edge in his voice faded, replaced by something gentler.
“Just say the word,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “And I’ll stop.”
“No. K-keep going,” she whispered, breath catching. “Just… maybe not while the waitress is right there?”
“I thought that’s what made it fun.”
“This is plenty fun,” she hissed through clenched teeth, trying not to arch into him. “So could you please just—” the fingers were back, three this time spreading her open and fucking her deep . Damn his talented fingers. “Yeah. That. Just that. Fuck, Tim. ”
His grin returned, slower this time. Warmer.
“Good girl.”
The world shimmered at the edges, her focus narrowing to the steady, maddening rhythm of his fingers beneath the table. Every brush of his palm, every deliberate stroke had her nerves sparking, heat pooling low and spreading until even the breeze felt like a caress. Her breath came in shallow bursts, chest rising and falling in a rhythm entirely her own.
He built her slowly, methodically—taking her up, higher each time, until she hovered right at the edge of something blinding. She felt like she might fly apart, unravel entirely, right there in broad daylight with the sounds of the café buzzing around her like static.
Then—just when her thighs trembled and her fingers curled tight into the edge of the bench—he would stop. A passing couple, a bark too close, footsteps on the sidewalk. Any interruption, and his touch would still, retreat just enough to leave her aching, breathless, and half-wild with wanting.
Did she love him for trying to be considerate? Yes.
Did she really want him to make her cum over his fingers in the middle of the sidewalk no one the wiser? Fuck yes.
The next time it was the waitress with their food, and like the gentleman that he was Tims fingers stilled again - so Lucy did something she never thought she’d do - she shifted her hips to ride his stilled fingers right there at the table.
A little more - come on.
“Here you go! One black coffee, a frappuccino extra caramel, a doggy cookie, and two chocolate croissants! Can I get you guys anything else at the moment?” The waitress was so pleasant and wonderful and needed to leave right the fuck now.
Tim seemed a little red glancing between Lucy and the waitress. “No, I think we’re good.” His fingers started slowly moving with her thank fucking god. “You need anything honey? Is this okay?”
Lucy’s cheeks flushed deeper, a warm heat blooming across her skin. Her breath hitched slightly, the subtle pressure sparking a delicious tension she was struggling to hide. “This is—fucking fabulous. Thank you so, so much!”
“Guess you really do like those croissants. Well I’m glad, I’ll be back soon to check on you.”
As soon as the waitress was walking away Lucy shifted, Tim curled his fingers and she grabbed his collar hard to drag him into a kiss full of teeth so her shriek was hopefully swallowed as her orgasm ripped through her.
His mouth opened, teeth grazing hers in response, tongues tangling in a heated, messy dance. The world around them blurred into background noise — the clink of dishes, distant laughter, even Kojo’s faint panting faded into silence under the weight of their shared hunger.
Eventually, it all started to become too much — the slow, teasing circles of his fingers driving her closer to the edge until she couldn’t hold still any longer. With a final, deliberate withdrawal, his fingers slipped free, still glistening with her.
Tim didn’t miss a beat. He took a slow, deliberate bite of the croissant, eyes dark and playful, then leaned back just enough to lick his fingers clean—each movement languid, almost savoring the taste lingering on his skin.
“Damn,” he murmured, voice low and thick with something deeper than hunger. “You’ve got me all distracted.”
Lucy’s breath hitched, cheeks flushed, body still humming from the intensity. Tim’s gaze softened as he reached over and brushed a stray hair from her face.
“That was… more than I expected,” he said quietly, concern threading through the teasing. “You okay?”
She nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. Just… wow.”
Tim smiled, a warmth spreading through his eyes. “Come here.” He broke off a small piece of croissant and gently fed it to her, watching as she melted into the sweet, flaky bite.
“Drink this,” he said, holding out her coffee cup. “Gotta keep you hydrated, babygirl.”
Kojo, sensing the shift, padded over and settled close against her legs, nudging her hand with his nose. Tim glanced down and smiled.
“Looks like someone wants to snuggle you while I get you some real fuel.”
This man is going to kill me. What else could he have planned?
==
Tim dropped by the stupidly expensive doggy daycare after brunch to drop off their best boy.
Kojo, freshly brushed and wearing his little “Best Dog” bandana from the engagement brunch, soaked up the attention like he was royalty. The staff cooed over him, showering him in treats and fuss while slipping in sly congratulations to Tim on the engagement — one even winked when she whispered, “She’s a lucky girl, but so are you.”
Tim just smiled, rumbling out a quiet “Yeah, I know,” as he knelt to scratch Kojo behind the ears.
“Be good, buddy. We'll be back tomorrow.”
Kojo whined once — either in protest or in solidarity — before trotting off toward the indoor play area like he owned the place.
By the time Tim got home, Lucy was curled in the passenger seat with the softest look in her eyes, the kind of warmth that made his chest feel too full. They barely made it through the front door before her laughter turned breathless, arms looped around his neck as he swept her off her feet like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She squealed in surprise — then melted into him completely.
He carried her all the way down the hall, still grinning like a man stupidly in love, until they reached the bedroom.
There, Tim set her down as though she were made of something delicate.
Her heels touched the floor, but he didn’t step back.
He leaned in instead — one hand lingering at her waist, the other brushing her cheek — and kissed her like she was a promise he’d waited years to keep.
Then Lucy’s hands went to the hem of her top, fingers sliding under the fabric with a practiced ease, but before she could lift it past her ribs, Tim caught her wrists.
Lucy’s hands slid to the hem of her shirt, fingers curling like she meant to pull it off — but before she could lift it more than a few inches, Tim caught her wrists.
“Let me,” he murmured, voice low and rough at the edges.
Her brows arched, teasing. “Oh? You sure I can’t distract you from… whatever this plan is?”
Tim leaned in, pressed a kiss to the hinge of her jaw — slow and deliberate. “Not tonight,” he said, the words brushing against her skin. “I’ve been dreaming about this for literal years, Angel. I think I’ve fantasized about exactly what I’d do after I proposed longer than I’ve had the damn ring.”
She grinned. “Tim, you bought the ring on our second date. ”
“And I don’t regret a thing,” he said, not missing a beat. “You can do whatever you’ve got brewing in that freaky little head of yours on our honeymoon. But tonight?”
He dropped his forehead to hers again, his hands sliding from her wrists to her waist, fingertips ghosting over the thin cotton of her shirt — a featherlight touch that made her shiver.
“Tonight,” he whispered, “I’m going to take my time with you.”
His fingers brushed the hem of her top, teasing it higher with slow, deliberate drags of his knuckles against her stomach. Then he skimmed his hands beneath the fabric, palms warm against her bare skin as he smoothed them over her sides.
“I’m going to tell you every little thing I love about you — not just your body, but the way you exist. All the moments you probably don’t even remember… the ones that knocked the wind out of me and made me realize I was already gone for you.”
Lucy sucked in a quiet breath, chest rising into his touch. He swept his hands upward, not quite removing the shirt, just mapping her skin like he was memorizing it.
His thumbs brushed the curve of her ribs — pausing over the familiar ink etched just below her left side. He traced the edge of her tattoo with reverence, his touch featherlight, his gaze never leaving her face.
“I’m going to undress you slow,” he murmured, mouth grazing her temple now, “and you’re going to stand there and look in the mirror.”
He moved behind her, his hands coming to rest at the small of her back and pull her into him.
“You’re going to see the woman I see — the one I fell in love with. The one I still can’t believe said yes.”
She turned her head slightly, eyes glassy, lips parted with a soft, almost disbelieving smile.
“I’m going to worship you, Angel,” he said, voice thick now, full of quiet awe. “And you’re going to let me.”
She surged up, hands fisting in his shirt, and kissed him — hard.
Her lips parted against his, mouth hungry and sure, and Tim responded with a low, surprised groan, one hand flying to the back of her neck while the other tightened at her waist.
Her fingers slid into his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl against her mouth. He backed her gently toward the mirror, one step at a time, like they couldn’t bear to break contact.
When they finally broke for air, Lucy was breathless, her lips kiss-bitten and eyes blown wide.
“You still in charge, Bradford?” she whispered, a little smug, a little wrecked already.
Tim huffed a laugh, resting his forehead against hers, chest rising hard against hers.
“God help me,” he muttered, kissing the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then the pulse just beneath her ear, “ yes. ”
She barely had time to catch her breath before he was stepping away, crossing the room to retrieve the mirror from the closet. It was tall and framed in black steel, and he angled it just right — propped against the footboard so it caught the entire reflection of the bed.
Then he turned back to her, hands already reaching.
"Clothes stay on for now," he said softly, beckoning her. "Kneel. Face the mirror."
There was no hesitation. She moved onto the bed, shifting to her knees, back straight, eyes flickering to their reflection — to him behind her, still dressed but untucking his shirt sleeves with slow precision.
His hands found her sides immediately, running up in long, slow sweeps that made her stomach flutter. He settled behind her, chest to back, the heat of him sinking through her clothes. She could feel the press of his thighs bracketing hers, the warmth of his breath at her ear.
"Look at you," he murmured, tilting his head to kiss her jaw, then the slope of her cheek, then her temple. "God, Lucy. I could spend the rest of my life trying to deserve this.”
She met his eyes in the mirror — the way he looked at her, the want and wonder and love etched into every line of his face — and felt her breath catch.
Her back arched ever so slightly as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, trailing slow, aching paths over her stomach and ribs.
"I love you because you love people like they’re better than they are,” he said, voice warm at the shell of her ear, tinged with something deeper. “Like they could be. Even when they don’t deserve it. Even when they’ve never believed it themselves.”
She could feel his mouth move against her skin as he spoke, brushing her gently with each word. His palms flattened against her torso, reverent as he stroked upward — fingertips tracing the delicate curve of her waist, the edge of her ribcage, the hollow just beneath her breasts. She shivered when he pressed a kiss to her back, just below her shoulder blade.
“You believed in me, ” he whispered. “Long before I did.”
The shirt dragged slowly upward, the fabric grazing her skin in tandem with his hands. Every inch he bared was followed by the heat of his mouth — kisses that made her twitch, sigh, tremble beneath his touch.
"Tim—" Her voice cracked, breathless.
He caught her wrists before she could turn, his grip gentle but firm.
“No,” he said softly. “Stay like this.”
He brought her hands to his mouth, pressing kisses into each wrist — lips soft against the thundering pulse there — before guiding them to the baseboard of the bed, just beneath the mirror’s frame.
“Put them here,” he said. “And keep them there. Look at what I see.”
She obeyed, cheeks flushed, breath uneven — and watched his eyes flick up to meet hers in the glass again. The heat in them made her knees threaten to buckle.
Then his hands were on her again — sliding around to cup her breasts through the thin lace of the lingerie she’d been wearing all day. He didn’t remove it. Just brushed it aside, baring her inch by inch like a secret he intended to keep forever.
“I love the little noises you make when we’re together.”
His thumbs grazed over her nipples, light and slow, teasing enough to make her gasp.
“There,” he murmured, voice breaking just a little as he leaned forward. “That little hitch in your breath…”
His mouth traced down again — neck, collarbone, the slope of her shoulder — lingering at each spot with purpose.
“…I’ve been dreaming about that sound for years. ”
His lips brushed her pulse point again, and this time he added, “You’re my angel, you know that?”
Her breath caught.
“Not in the stained-glass, halo, divine judgment kind of way,” he went on, voice thick with feeling. “God knows I’m not religious. But you — Lucy — you make me believe in something. Something better. You pull light out of places I didn’t think had any left.”
She swallowed hard, her reflection starting to blur.
“I know what you’ve been through,” he murmured, kissing the slope of her shoulder again, lingering this time. His hand smoothed down her side, fingers grazing her ribs where the edge of her tattoo peeked out. “I know how close I came to losing you.”
Her muscles tensed.
“I love that you’re a survivor,” he said quietly. “That you’re stronger than anyone knows. Stronger than you let on. I love that you kept the tattoo — that you made it your badge of honor.”
She shifted, a little too fast. Her arms moved as if to pull away, to cover up — to hide the very part of her he was praising.
Tim stilled her immediately, catching her hips, then delivering a sharp but measured smack to her ass — not rough, but enough to snap her out of her spiral and make her gasp.
“Eyes on the mirror,” he said, his voice low but firm.
His hand came up to cup her jaw, thumb brushing the edge of her cheekbone as he tilted her face forward again. Their eyes locked in the reflection.
“Don’t look away from me. Not from this. Not from you. ”
His other hand moved gently now, skimming her side, tracing the outline of the ink at her ribs. She trembled, not from fear but from the weight of being seen — completely and without judgment.
“You think that scar makes you broken?” he asked softly. “You think that moment — that horror — took anything from you I haven’t already seen and still worshiped ?”
Her lip trembled. He leaned in and kissed the hinge of her jaw.
“You came back to life that day,” he whispered. “I know because I saw it. I was the one holding you when you started breathing again. And I swear to God, Lucy, that was the moment I fell in love with you. Right there, in the dirt, with blood on your face and that fire in your eyes. You chose to keep fighting.”
Her eyes welled up — and her fingers gripped the headboard just a little tighter.
“You are brave, and smart, and strong, and fucking gorgeous. So say it,” he murmured, letting his hand drift lower, ghosting over the waistband of her pants. “Say it for me.”
She shook her head once, small, unsure.
“Say it,” he coaxed again, one hand still holding her jaw steady, thumb now stroking her cheekbone. “Out loud.”
“I’m—” she hesitated, exhaled. “I’m brave.”
“That’s right,” he whispered, mouth brushing her neck again.
“I’m smart.”
His fingers dipped just barely under the hem of her waistband.
“I’m…a survivor” Her breath came faster now, trembly but steadier. “And I’m fucking gorgeous.”
He groaned — just for her — and peeled her pants down over her hips.
“There she is,” he breathed. “My angel.”
Tim’s hands slid firmly but tenderly under her hips, lifting her with a confidence that made her heart skip. He shifted her carefully till she was sideways on the edge of the bed and he was kneeling in front of her, nuzzling into her thighs as he spoke his love to her over and over again.
“God, your legs,” he murmured, voice thick with something tender and hungry all at once. “I swear, they’re the first part of you I ever really noticed.”
His thumbs brushed the underside of her thighs, slow circles that sent shivers rippling through her.
“I love how strong they are,” he said softly. “How they carry you through every goddamn thing life throws at you. How they hold you steady even when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.”
His hands slid lower, palms cupping the full curve of her thighs, fingers spreading wide as if memorizing every inch. The green lace was sheer enough to feel every contour beneath it, every pulse, every shiver he coaxed out with his touch.
He kissed his way down the inside of one thigh, slow and worshipful, tongue flicking just beneath the edge of the fabric, teasing the bare skin beneath.
“You’re perfect,” he breathed. “Every scar, every curve, every inch of you is fucking perfect.”
He brushed his fingers along the sensitive skin just inside her thigh, careful, respectful, like handling something precious.
Slowly, he lowered his mouth to her, kissing and licking with intention, every flick of his tongue and gentle suck making her pulse quicken.
Lucy’s breath hitched, her eyes flickering between his intent gaze and their reflection in the mirror. The way he looked at her—as if she was the only thing that mattered—made tears sting the corners of her eyes and her hips buck.
“Tim!”
An arm came down across her waist to hold her in place, the other reached up to hold her hand as his nose dug into her clit just right and his tongue pushed into her at the same time.
When she trembled and clenched around him, he pulled back slightly, pressing a soft kiss to her hip, breath warm against her skin.
“The way you say my name when you’re close...” His voice was rough, urgent. “Say it again. I need to hear you.”
She whispered it, soft and shaky, and his mouth found her again—this time quicker, more demanding, but always tender.
She lost track of everything after that.
The hickeys he pressed into her thighs like a trail of possession.
The slick, obscene sounds of his mouth working her open.
The seemingly endless lapping at her folds.
The toe-curling suction on her clit that pushed her straight over the edge again and again.
She could feel his stubble on her and knew she’d have marks from that too but she didn’t fucking care.
He loves me, he loves me, he loves me.
She lost count of how many times she came — only knew that by the end, she was shaking, tears slipping silent and hot down her cheeks, and it took her tugging on his arm to finally make him pause.
Tim pulled her into his arms without a word, kissed every part of her he could reach — her knee, her hip, the curve of her shoulder — murmuring between breaths: “You’re everything, Lucy. Every fierce, beautiful part of you.”
She was still trembling when he finally pulled back enough to look at her. His thumb brushed gently beneath her eye, catching the last of the tears she hadn’t meant to cry.
“Hey,” he said softly, voice gravelly but steady. “You okay?”
She nodded, eyes glassy and dazed in the best way. “More than okay,” she whispered.
Still, he stayed there a moment longer, studying her face like it held every answer he’d ever wanted. Then, with one last kiss to her temple, he rose to his feet.
Her eyes followed him as he undressed — piece by piece, slow and unhurried, like he wanted her to see him, not just look. Fingers slipping over buttons, tugging loose threads, dragging fabric from skin like it didn’t deserve to cling to him anymore.
He peeled his shirt off over his head, revealing the hard lines and faded scars she’d traced with her eyes a hundred times. A constellation of moments, of battles fought and survived.
His belt came next, the quiet slide of leather pulling through the loops loud in the hush between them. Then the soft thunk of his jeans hitting the floor, his movements deliberate, unhurried — letting her take in every inch of him with quiet awe.
By the time he crawled back into bed beside her, she was already reaching for him. But he caught her hand gently, lacing their fingers together instead.
“You know what else I love?” he murmured, kissing the back of her hand. “How you still get nervous around me sometimes. Like you don’t know how easy it is to love you.”
He leaned in, kissed her shoulder, then the soft spot just above her collarbone.
“You’re perfect,” he said, voice like velvet and heat against her skin. “You’re mine.”
Her breath caught, tears threatening again — but he kissed her before they could fall. Slow, anchoring, so present it made her ache. He kissed her like it was the first time all over again, like rediscovering her mouth was some kind of miracle.
Between breaths, he whispered, “How you kiss me like it’s the first time every time.”
Tim settled over her, gaze locked with hers, his expression open and unguarded in a way that made her chest ache.
“You know what I love most?” he murmured, voice rough with emotion and need. “You. Just… you. ”
He guided himself in slowly, thick and hot and real, and she felt every inch of it stretch and fill her.
Her breath hitched, back arching instinctively. “Tim—”
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, hand sliding up to cup her jaw. “I’ve got you.”
He bottomed out in one deep thrust, and they both froze — eyes locked, foreheads nearly touching, like the moment itself had its own gravity.
She clung to his shoulders, thighs tightening around his waist. His muscles flexed under her palms as he began to move — steady and hard, dragging moans from deep in her chest and low, ragged groans from his throat.
“I love you Lucy.”
Skin slapped against skin. Sheets twisted under them. Her nails bit into his back as he drove into her, faster now, with a kind of desperation that felt like worship and want tangled together.
She could feel the tension building in him — the stutter in his rhythm, the way his jaw clenched, the near-frantic grip of his hands on her hips.
Then he groaned her name like a prayer and spilled into her, pulsing hot and deep.
They didn’t move right away.
Breath mingled. Hearts raced. His weight was solid and warm against her, forehead pressed to hers like he couldn’t bear to let go.
They stayed like that — panting, wrecked, whole.
Together.
I love you, always.