Archive of Our Own ^beta

July 1993.

Before you even get to Florida, you encounter an unforeseen obstacle. Passengers are still filing through the narrow aisle and you're nestled somewhat comfortably into the window seat when you notice that Mike is white-knuckling both armrests. He's already buckled into his seat and looking a little pale. 

“Mike?” you say gently, laying your hand over top of his. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Fine,” he replies, staring at the seatback in front of him.

“Mike,” you say again, voice going softer as you reach up to rub his neck. “Please talk to me.”

He only eases slightly at your touch, but he finally turns to look at you. “I hate flying,” he mutters. 

“Why didn't you say anything?” you ask, frowning. “We could have driven instead. Or taken the Amtrak or something.”

“A few hours beats a few days. I'll be fine once we get there.”

“Oh, baby,” you sigh, clasping both your hands around his. “Is there anything I can do? D’you get sick?”

He shakes his head, but grasps your hand instead of the armrest. “No, nothing like that. It just freaks me out. No control, y’know?”

“I get it,” you assure him. “I'm right here though, all right? Anything you need. It's only three hours and when we get to the hotel, you can rest as much as you need.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. S’mostly taking off and landing. I'm usually okay otherwise.”

You press a soft kiss to his shoulder and settle in to wait for the process to get underway. You're not all that experienced of a flyer and you definitely deal with a fair amount of anxiety with it, but something about knowing that Mike's even more afraid than you are helps you put your own worries aside. You'll probably end up crashing right along with him when you get to the hotel, but in the meantime, you intend to be fully present for him. 

Just as you both knew it would, your flight goes off without a hitch. Turbulence is nearly non-existent, though Mike does nearly break your fingers during takeoff and landing. But you don't complain, not when you touch down in Florida and the bright midday sun greets you along with palm trees, sandy beaches, and a nice breeze coming off the Gulf. 

The hotel you ended up choosing is a little further away from the downtown area, but what it lacks in proximity, it more than makes up for in privacy. Your suite has a private patio with a hot tub and from there, you're only a few hundred yards from the water. The room itself is beautiful too, complete with a canopied, massive king-sized bed, a large soaking tub, and a kitchenette. 

Mike takes a quick look around the room and enjoys the view with you for a few minutes before flopping facedown on the bed, over the covers, clothes and shoes still on, and falls asleep. You crank on the air conditioning, a light sheen of sweat already coating your body, and decide to shower before you do anything else. 

It's been a long time since you've gone on an actual vacation. There are certainly places you want to go, things you want to see, but traveling never quite made it to the top of your priority list. You took a trip to Vegas with Cassie and quickly discovered it wasn't your scene. You also spent a week at a cabin in the Adirondacks with Addie and Jen a few years ago and had the time of your life. 

Regardless of what you do here, you know it'll be your best trip so far just by virtue of being here with Mike. He seems so inseparable from New York and you're excited to see him soak in the Florida sun. When you're done showering and feel refreshed, you change into your swimsuit and pull on a crochet cover-up over it before heading out to the patio with a book. 

Just under an hour later, that's where Mike finds you, sunglasses on, several chapters in, and laid out on a lounge chair. You smile up at him and scoot to the side so he can sit down facing you. 

“Did you have a good nap?” you ask, stroking his cheek. 

“I did,” he says, toying with the tassels on your cover-up. “You been down to the water yet?”

“Nope. I wanted to wait for you.”

He grins and gives you a kiss. “I should go get changed then, huh?”

“I wouldn't complain,” you say with a shrug. “Bit warm out.”

He kisses you once more before ducking back into the room to change into his swim trunks. When he comes back out, you lift your glasses and drink in his broad, bare chest. 

“Hello, detective,” you say appreciatively and then give him a wolf-whistle. 

He preens, smirking and spreading out his arms. “That's right, babygirl, take a good look. This is the peak male form in action.”

You giggle, standing up to run your hands down his upper body, loving, as always, both the firm muscle and the softer parts of him. “It really is,” you tell him, going up on your tiptoes for a kiss. 

He stops you, his thumb tracing your full lower lip. “When do I get to see what's under this thing?” he teases, tugging at your cover-up.

“Oh, you want to see what's under here?” you ask, feigning innocence – which never works but is still fun, especially when you know it's riling him up. “You should look then.”

You make no move to take it off yourself and he growls, grabbing you by the hips and slowly dragging the soft material up your body and over your head. It's not like the cover-up leaves much to the imagination anyway, but your current swimsuit isn't that far off from some of the lingerie you own and you can't blame him for wanting to see it in its full glory. It's a bikini, colored a deep wine-red, with cutouts around your hips and shoulders, and for as sexy as it is, it's surprisingly comfortable. 

He hums low in his chest as he takes you in, tossing the cover-up onto your chair. When he looks at you like this, it stokes a fire deep inside you, makes your nipples harden and your cunt clench around nothing. You know this look. This look is as good as a verbal promise that he's going to do absolutely filthy things to you. 

“Look at you,” he says roughly, his hands gripping your sides. It's not an overtly sexual touch, but his hands are so big, the way they span around your ribcage, just beneath your breasts. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

“You like it then?” you ask, just this side of breathless. “I picked this color just for you, baby.”

His pupils dilate and his hands find your ass to pull you flush to him. You can feel his cock firming up where it's pressed against you, twitching every so often. He looks about two seconds away from dragging you back inside, but you pry his hands away, lacing your fingers through one of them instead. 

“Water first,” you tell him, tugging him toward the beach. 

He's a good sport for the first three quarters of the way down the gradual, sandy slope, but as you near the gentle waves, he scoops you up in his arms and charges for the water like the goddamn labrador retriever he is. You shriek and squeal and he splashes through the first few feet of water, grinning like a madman. 

“Mike!” you laugh, clinging to his neck. “Don't you dare drop me!”

“Oh, you mean like this?” He lets go of you without warning, but catches you before you really go anywhere. 

“You're actually so mean to me,” you grumble, though your smile doesn't fade in the least. 

He wades out until the water is chest deep – about neck deep for you – and slowly releases you, though you slide your hands to his shoulders, bobbing in the water as you languidly kick your legs. His hands are still all over you, and he eagerly licks into your mouth when you crane your neck to kiss him. 

You sigh softly when he guides your legs to hook around his hips, and you cling to him once again, throwing your arms around his neck. With his hands on your waist, he encourages you to grind against him, an action that feels as natural as breathing. As he grows harder against your core, he starts to breathe a little quicker in between long, languorous kisses. 

“There could be people watching us,” you mumble into his mouth, the movement of your hips never ceasing. 

“Could be,” he agrees, seeming perfectly unbothered. “D’you wanna stop?”

The head of his cock is at the perfect angle to rub against your clit and you shudder, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Fuck,” you breathe. “No.”

After a few moments, you glance up, eyes searching the area around you. You can hear cars passing by on the street in front of your hotel, but the nearest people you can see are so far down the beach that they're just blurry shapes. To the other side of you is the end of the beach, a natural little cove surrounded by trees and rocks.

“Over there,” you tell him, nodding in that direction. “In the shade. I need you inside me, baby.”

He groans out loud at that, cock throbbing as you continue grinding on him. You have to pause briefly so he can collect himself enough to make his way over. The water is slightly deeper here, and a little cooler because of the shade, but his feet are still comfortably flat on the sandy bottom. You slide your hand down between your bodies, stroking him through his swim trunks, and he drops his head against yours, letting out a soft exhale of breath. He doesn't let you carry on for long though, instead pushing aside the crotch of your bikini bottoms, his thumb going right to your clit. 

You cling to him, nails digging into his back, and whimper as he circles your most sensitive area. “Oh fuck, Mike,” you sigh, eyes falling shut. 

“You ready for my cock, sweetheart?” he asks, brushing his nose against yours. 

“Please,” you whisper, hips bucking forward and searching for more when his hand leaves you. 

The water strangely makes things much easier. He's able to support you without issue, even as he frees himself from his shorts, and the gentle lapping of the waves around you is a calming, serene sound. Slowly, he slides into you, the stretch that much more prominent without either of your fingers or an orgasm warming you up first. But you love the feeling. You get drunk on the way he fills you so completely, the generous girth of his cock steadily spreading you open. 

“Oh god,” you choke out, hips already working again. “That's it, baby, that feels so good.”

His hips come to rest against yours, as deep in you as he can be in this position, and he twitches inside of you, his hold on your waist keeping you steady. He groans, a quiet noise from deep in his throat, before lifting his head to kiss you again. “So fucking perfect,” he breathes. “Wanna spend the whole week like this, stuffing this pussy full. Gonna make you come over and over and over again, turn you into the prettiest mess I've ever seen.”

“Yes,” you cry, shudders rolling through you, “fuck, baby, yes! Love when you fill me up, love it so much.”

With each thrust, he pulls you back down onto him and you have to bury your face against his neck to keep from moaning too loudly. He's extra heavy-handed with the praise, and it just makes you more wild for him. 

“Good girl, takin’ me so well, honey,” he says, hips snapping up into you. “Touch yourself for me.”

You have to adjust your hold on him, but once you're stable, you slip your hand down between your legs. You can't help it – as soon as your fingers reach your clit, you're circling it desperately, mouth falling open against Mike's cheek. 

He growls again, breaking off into a low moan when you clamp down on his cock. You're certain he can feel you coiling tighter and tighter, both of you too turned on to last much longer. 

“Wanna feel you come, baby,” you gasp, writhing in his lap. “Need it so bad.”

His hips stutter and you can tell from how frenzied he is that if you were in bed right now, he'd be pounding into you as hard as you could take it. “You gonna take it all for me, babygirl?” he purrs. “Gonna let me fill you up?”

“Yes, yes, god!” A broken sob leaves your mouth, right on the edge yourself, but thankfully, he's right there with you. Most of the time, when he comes, he buries himself as deep as he can get, but this time, he continues fucking you through it. You don't just fall over the edge, you're thrown over it, your limbs locking around him at each anchor point. 

“Fuck, such a good girl, you're my girl, all mine,” he grits out as you ride it out together, twitching and pulsing. 

You whimper softly when it's all over, your now-free hand wrapping back around him. He shifts, moving to pull out of you, and you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders. 

“Don't,” you breathe, “not yet.”

He adjusts his hold on you, but stays buried inside you for as long as he can. It never feels long enough, no matter the circumstances, even when he settles you in his lap and makes you stay still, enduring every twitch of his cock. 

“God, you're perfect, sweetheart,” he sighs, mouthing at your throat. “So fucking beautiful, so sweet, so good for me.”

“Love being good for you, baby. S’all I ever want.”

He caresses your back until he slips out of you and quickly fixes your bottoms, putting them back into place before squaring himself away. “Wanna be able to taste myself when I eat you out later,” he says, catching you completely off-guard. 

You whimper. “One of these days, you're gonna say or do something so outrageously hot that I'm just gonna combust.”

He smirks. “Don’t worry, I'll take care of you, sweet girl.”

“Not helping,” you mumble, dropping your head onto his shoulder. 

“Come on,” he chuckles, “let's go get you some room service, yeah?”

“I can't tell if that's an innuendo or not,” you giggle as he sets you down. 

He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Please give me a little more credit.”

After lunch, you change into a sundress and Mike into shorts and a tank top and walk down to the busier side of town. You stop and take pictures at a few places, see the sights, and by the time you head back to the hotel, you're starting to feel needy again. He's been so sweet all afternoon, holding your hand or slinging his arm around your waist, insisting on taking a few pictures of just you with the wind in your hair. When you first started planning this trip, you hadn't realized just how badly both of you would need it. Now that you're here, it's like you've left the weight of everything on your shoulders back in New York and it's a massively welcome reprieve. 

You gaze up at him on the walk back to your hotel and when he meets your eyes, he seems amused to see you already looking at him. “What?” he laughs, his smile making him light up in a way you haven't seen in a while.

“Nothing,” you say breezily. “Just admiring.”

“Well, geez, warn a guy, would ya? You know I'm always happy to put on a show.”

You laugh, nudging him. “I don't need a show, Mikey. I just need you.”

He slows for a moment to kiss the top of your head before continuing on. “You'll get me soon enough, sweet girl,” he assures you, his hand sliding to your ass, making you blush. “Can't wait to get my mouth on you.”

You very nearly trip as you go weak in the knees and your cheeks turn even redder. “This is fun for you, isn't it?”

“It's one of the true joys in my life, teasing you and working you up,” he chuckles. “You make it so easy and so rewarding.”

“Yeah, well, my boyfriend is pretty much a sex god, so I don't think I can be blamed entirely.”

“You make a convincing argument” he muses, giving you a pat on the ass. “Speaking of which, when we get back to the room, I want you on that bed, naked, legs opened nice and wide for me. Think you can do that, babygirl?”

He knows exactly what he's doing, talking dirty to you at all, let alone saying these things to you as if it's a perfectly normal conversation to have while walking down the street. Your breath catches in your throat for a moment as you work to remember how to speak. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, eyes focused on the sidewalk so you don't make a complete fool of yourself. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Bet you're already dripping for me,” he continues, making your cunt ache. “Gonna have to find a way of keeping you from getting too loud.”

That one actually makes you whimper and if it wasn't so goddamn arousing, you swear you'd hate him a little. Even though the weather is cooling down, you feel hotter than ever. When you walk into the hotel lobby, the air conditioning is a godsend, and it's even cooler in your room. Mike lets you go so he can lock the door and you almost rip a hole in one of the seams on your dress in your haste to take it off. Eagerly, you fling yourself back onto the bed, though by the time he turns toward you –

“I got a little tangled up,” you tell him with an unconvincing pout. Your underwear are twisted around your ankles, keeping your legs together, and he looks hungry as he leisurely walks to the foot of the bed. 

“Nothing we can't sort out, right, sweetheart?” His voice is liquid, just like the heat between your thighs. He slides a hand along your calf, gently massaging your muscles before easily pulling your underwear off. He flicks them toward your suitcase as though they've personally offended him and crawls up onto the bed, parting your legs as he goes. 

Once they're sufficiently hooked over his shoulders, he reaches out to spread you open. At the same time he sees it, you feel a mixture of your arousal and your mutual release from earlier slowly dribble out of you. He curses under his breath and you make a soft noise, more than a gasp but not quite a whimper. The moment is unexpectedly tense with how entranced he seems to be, still fully-clothed between your legs, his mouth mere inches from where you want him most.

“Mike,” you whisper, nearly panting. He looks up at you, eyes glazed over. “Touch me.”

He doesn't need to be told twice. He holds you open with his thumbs and licks a long, slow stripe up your center and your head instantly falls back, though you remain propped up on your elbows. He flicks his tongue against your clit before settling in and circling it over and over again. 

You whine and grind against his mouth, shuddering when he sucks hard at your clit. It's difficult since you're not used to having to be quiet, but you try to keep in mind that you're in this hotel for the next week and that it likely has much thinner walls than your apartment building. Maybe it's because you're on vacation or because of the way he talked about doing this, but his tongue feels even better than usual, your chest heaving as you whimper and moan. 

“Oh fu-uck,” you cry when he starts licking into you, reveling in your taste. His hands grip your sides, both keeping you still and a reminder that he's right here with you. You love when he does things like this, blends something soft and sweet with something debauched.

He works you up just as he's done for the last two years, essentially having perfected and honed his techniques to suit your needs. “Gonna make me come,” you gasp, unable to look away from where he's buried between your legs. “Just like that, baby, that's perfect.”

He locks onto the rhythm, tongue working your clit just as he slips a thumb inside you. It's exactly what you need to finish – something to clench around – and he moans against you as you tense up, a loud moan escaping your mouth. Your back arches and your legs tremble on either side of his head. Thankfully, he backs off a bit, instead pressing open-mouthed kisses to the insides of your thighs and your lower belly. 

You flop down onto the bed, no longer bothering to prop yourself up as you work to catch your breath. “I think,” you mumble, “you might actually break me this week.”

“Never, babygirl,” he promises, both amusement and honesty in his voice. “I'd never give you more than you can take.”

It's oddly touching considering your current arrangement, but he can make you laugh when you're crying or cheer you up when you're angry. Of course he's able to melt your heart while he makes you come. 

“Can you give me one more?” he asks, sounding hopeful. You love him so much. You love that he loves this. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. “Long as I get to repay the favor when you're done.”

He takes your hand and kisses each of your fingertips before he lets go. The ticklish sensation makes you giggle, a blissed out smile on your face even as he kisses back toward your clit. You let out a soft sigh and bring your hands to your breasts, catching your nipples between your fingers. He moans again, almost certainly watching you, and though you don't lift your head, you can feel his gaze burning into you. 

“God, Mike,” you whimper, “so good, it's so good.”

This time, he focuses on your clit with his tongue and slides two fingers into you, curling them perfectly, but quickly gives you a third. You cry out his name, and he starts to speed up, pumping them in and out of you at a steady pace. The closer he gets you, the louder you get until you turn your head and cry out into one of the pillows, muffling the sound. 

He pushes you over the edge soon after, one arm flung over your lower body to keep you from pulling away. You swear and gasp for breath as you grind against his perfect mouth, and when he moans along with you, it makes it that much better. By the time you rejoin the land of the living, he's halfway up your body, kissing what feels like every single inch of you. He pushes your hands away from your chest and replaces them with one of his own and his lips. 

You whimper, eyelids fluttering, and though it feels amazing, you end up reaching for him not long after. You take his face in your hands and draw him up the rest of the way and quickly get lost in his kiss. Your fingers thread through his hair and you aren't shy about pulling it, not when it earns you a rough groan. 

“I want you in my mouth,” you pant as his lips chase after yours. “Lay down.”

“What if I wanna keep kissing you?” he mumbles before doing just that. You permit him a few more moments before you catch his chin in your hand.

It would be laughably easy for him to pull out of your grasp, but he holds still for you. “On your back,” you say firmly. 

He gives an appreciative hum before he does as you say, a sizeable tent in his shorts. The sight of him laid out for you is mouthwatering, even fully-clothed. Your first order of business is getting rid of everything in between you and his body, the need to see him completely bare and hard for you taking over. You go up on your knees and pull his tank top off. He seems incapable of resisting the urge to touch you, so you allow it when kisses you again, his hands coming up to cup your breasts. 

“Can't help it, babygirl,” he says against your lips, “you're so fuckin' pretty, feel so good in my hands.”

“Stop trying to distract me,” you say weakly, trying to will yourself to pull away. 

He kisses along your jaw and then slides a hand up to your throat. He doesn't apply any pressure, just holds you there, but it still makes your breathing go ragged and a shiver rolls through you. He has to know what this does to you. Suddenly, you don't just want him in your mouth, you need him.

You slip down his body and waste no time in yanking his bottoms off, his cock springing free and smacking wetly against his belly. He curses under his breath, seeing the hunger in your eyes. You drag your hands up his thighs as he lays back against the pillows, his arms folded behind his head. 

After a quick moment of drinking in the gorgeous view in front of you, you wrap your lips around his cock and immediately start bobbing your head, stroking him in the same rhythm. 

“Oh, such a good girl,” he groans, cock twitching in your mouth. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

As much as you love when he talks to you, your goal every time you blow him is to make him fall apart so thoroughly that all he can do is moan – the same thing he does to you. You give in completely to every ounce of love and lust you feel for him and sink down on his cock, letting him slide into your throat. You hold him there for a few seconds, reveling in the heat and the taste and the girth.

A moan rips from his chest and it's music to your ears. You pull back, tongue flicking along his length, drag air into your lungs, and then take him deep once again. He strains beneath you, fighting to keep his hips still, and as much as you'd love to be able to let him have a bit more control, you enjoy breathing and being able to speak. 

“Fuck, babygirl,” he chokes out, his head falling back.

You moan around him, holding a bit longer before pulling off with a loud pop , stroking him quickly to give your jaw a break. “Love your cock, baby,” you whimper. 

“And you take it so good, so fuckin' good. Such a mess.”

You watch intently as you swallow him down again, now moving continuously instead of holding him in your throat. You lose yourself in it, drinking in the noises he makes, hand wrapped around him at the base to keep him steady. 

“Keep those pretty eyes open for me, honey,” he says breathlessly. “Look at me.”

You hadn't even realized they'd fallen shut, but they fly open and you meet his gaze, intense and adoring. 

“That's my girl,” he says with a sigh, shifting so he can reach down to stroke your cheek. “D’you have any idea how beautiful you look right now, those lips wrapped around me? Gonna make me come so fuckin' hard.”

You keep your eyes locked on him and moan around his cock as you continue to hold a steady pace. He twitches on your tongue and moves his hand from your cheek to tangle in your hair. His hold becomes tighter the closer you bring him and by the time you've got him right on the edge, you're moaning right along with him. 

“I'm so close, honey,” he gasps, hips straining beneath your hands, “just like that, fuck… ”

He trails off and moments later, he's coming down your throat, pulsing in the wet heat of your mouth, his head tossed back as he groans and grunts through it. He's utterly intoxicating as you swallow him down; you love how vocal he is, both in terms of dirty talk and just the noises he makes. There's never been a question of whether or not he enjoys what you do for him when he sounds like this.

You keep him in your mouth until he's pulling you off, too sensitive to take it any longer. “C'mere,” he mutters, reaching for you. You're more than happy to settle in his lap and he kisses you thoroughly, occasionally letting out soft, contented moans as he does so. “Such a good girl, sweetheart.”

You kiss him again before he rolls, turning both of you onto your sides so you're facing one another. Over his shoulder, you catch a glimpse of the alarm clock on his nightstand. “Happy birthday, baby,” you breathe.

He hums as he pushes some of your hair back. “Thanks,” he says softly. “Might be the best birthday I've ever had.”

You smile and brush your thumb from his chin up along his jawline. “I hope I can make it better every year. You deserve it.”

“Long as I got you, honey, that's all I care about.” 

As you watch his eyelids droop, love you never knew you were capable of blooms in your chest. You adore him, everything about him, even when he's annoying the living shit out of you. He's done so much for you over the last two years and all you want is to give him a fraction of that same love in return. Once his eyes are closed, he nuzzles into your hair, his body relaxing in your arms in a way you haven't felt in a while with all that's happened. You take a few minutes to enjoy it before you drift off too.

Mike inadvertently wakes you the next morning when he opens the curtains and the sliding door, letting the sun stream in. As you blink against the sunlight, you think you've never been so happy to wake up before. But you turn your head and see Mike leaning against the doorframe, just in a pair of boxers, and gazing out at the view and a smile spreads onto your face. 

For the hundredth time, you try to sneak up on him, but when you wrap your arms around him from behind, he doesn't so much as flinch. “I hate your stupid bat-hearing,” you mumble sleepily against his back. 

He chuckles, turning around to face you, and kisses the top of your head. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning,” you say with a contented sigh. “Happy birthday.”

“You already said that,” he reminds you. 

“Get used to it, pal, ‘cause I'm gonna keep saying it all day.”

He rolls his eyes and scoops you up into his arms and heads for the shower, and you laugh and kick your legs the whole way there. 

Once you're both dressed and ready for the day, you sit him down at the foot of the bed before pawing through your bag until you find his gift. “Here,” you say softly, a subtle blush on your cheeks as you hand him the square box. “Happy birthday, Mikey.”

He quirks an eyebrow, but takes it from you and making quick work of the wrapping paper. As soon as he sees the logo on the box, he looks up at you. “Honey…,” he says in warning. 

“Just open it,” you tell him, leaning against the bedpost. 

He gives you another look but does as you say and you watch his eyes widen. Before he can scold you or ask how much you spent, you speak up again. 

“It's from the year you were born. They don't make this model anymore, but Nat helped me track one down. And I know you've been having issues with your current watch, so the timing ended up working out really well. No pun intended.”

He ignores your terrible sense of humor as he turns the Rolex over in his hands. The longer he inspects it, you start to worry that you're way off-base and he just doesn't want to tell you.

“It's okay if you don't like it, I can always sell it –”

He stands suddenly, hardly giving you a second to react before he takes your face in his hands and kisses you long and slow. “You absolutely did not have to do this,” he says, “but thank you, sweetheart, it's… well, it's incredible.”

You light up. “You like it?”

“I love it.” As if to demonstrate it, he slides the watch onto his wrist and clasps it and you take his hand. 

“It does kind of look amazing on you,” you giggle. 

He rolls his eyes and kisses you again. “You are far too good to me,” he says with a sigh.

“No such thing. Besides, you deserve it. And I thought maybe it could be like my necklace. I know you said I'm always with you anyway, but now you won't have to look at a picture to remind yourself. I'll be right there on your wrist, just like you're right here with me.” You lift your hand to the heart at the base of your throat, watching as his eyes go soft. 

“My sweet girl,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your forehead as he wraps his arms around you. “Thank you.”

You hug him tight, unable to wipe the smile off your face for anything. “You're welcome, baby. And listen, whatever you want to do today, I'm game. It's your day. I do want to take you out for a nice dinner later, though.”

“Oh, because the vacation and obscenely expensive watch wasn't enough?” he laughs, rolling his eyes. 

“You're getting it!” you cheer, clapping your hands. 

“Shut up,” he snorts, pushing you onto the bed with a hand on your forehead and making you cackle. 

After some deliberation over breakfast, he mentions that he saw a sign the day before for sailboat tours and you easily agree. You tell him about Jen's dad taking you both sailing once and how much you'd enjoyed it and it seems to make him more excited knowing that it's something you're interested in too. 

It turns out to be a perfect day for it, with a strong, steady breeze that feels like heaven when you're out on the water. You spend almost as much time watching Mike as you do looking out at the view. He's almost always grinning and even more affectionate than usual and you snap a few candid pictures of him like that. You want the memory of his face forever, of how happy he is and how much fun he's having. It's like New York City doesn't even exist right now for all he cares and it's a beautiful sight. 

The tour only lasts an hour, and it flies by, but you're so glad you did it. After, you pop into a few shops nearby that you'd been too impatient to check out the day before and you pick out a couple things to bring back home for Penny and your friends as well as an ornament for the Christmas tree with the name of the town on it. It's still too early for lunch once you finish there, and Mike suggests walking down to the pier. 

You stroll along the worn wooden boards hand-in-hand, occasionally pausing to peer over the edge. It's a weekday and it's still relatively early, so the town seems to just be waking up. As such, it's not very busy and you pass a few other tourists on your way out to the far end, along with a couple fishermen. When you reach the railing, Mike hugs you from behind as you look out over the water, resting his cheek on your head. It's the easiest thing in the world to lean back in his arms and let the sun beat down on you. 

You snag a nearby bench and he puts his arm around you. “This was a great idea you had,” he remarks, almost glowing in the sunlight, the very beginnings of a tan darkening his skin. 

“It's been known to happen from time to time,” you tease.

Instead of laughing with you, he suddenly seems more serious. “I mean it. After this last year… I think getting away for a while was the only answer. And somehow, you always know what I need before I do.”

Your heartbeat ratchets up as he speaks. You're not sure if he's just talking or if he's doing a whole speech planned in advance, but ever since you talked about getting engaged, the idea of him proposing has remained in the back of your mind. Truthfully, you really don't care how or where he does it. You know your answer – you have for a long time now. It's just a matter of when he chooses to ask you. This is the first time, though, that it's felt like he might be leading into it. 

“Well, luckily for me, you and I seem to need the same or similar things a lot of the time,” you say, doing your level best to keep calm. You're not convinced yet that that's even what he's doing, but you're giddy at the mere idea of it. “But really, I don't know, Mikey, I just want you to be happy. I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

“I've been asking myself the same question for two years and I still don't have an answer,” he muses, gently running his fingers along your shoulder.

“And what question is that?”

“What in the hell did I do to deserve you?”

You reach up to kiss him. “You deserve me – and every good thing that comes your way – just by virtue of being you. You're a good person, Mike, so much better than you give yourself credit for. Besides, I don't want anyone else. Never will, now that I've found you.”

He gazes softly back at you, making your insides turn to mush with that handsome smile. “I love you,” he replies, kissing you once more before you lay your head on his shoulder.

“And I love you,” you echo.

Truthfully, you're not expecting a proposal while you're here. The thought is there, but it's not going to upset you if he doesn't. You want him to ask you when he's ready, not when he thinks he's supposed to. You don't even know if he's found a ring yet and you're pretty sure he knows that you'd rather it was all a surprise. You've talked about getting married, about what it means to you both, and that you're both at the same place when it comes to taking that next step. That's all that matters to you. Everything else is secondary. 

You take your time walking back down the pier and you pick a casual spot for lunch with outdoor seating. Mike remarks on your rosy cheeks and you're sure that despite practically bathing in sunscreen, you're already burning. You make known your jealousy of how he doesn't seem to burn, just tans, and how you've never been that lucky. He takes the opportunity to tell you he loves you exactly as you are, red cheeks and all. 

From the restaurant, you head back to the hotel, both of you looking forward to more time in the water. You change into one of the other bathing suits you brought, this one an electric blue with lime green accents and judging by the look on his face, Mike definitely approves. Before he can lean down to kiss you, you dart toward the water, shouting “race ya!” over your shoulder. 

He catches up with you easily considering his long gait, but by then you're at the water’s edge and you dive in, narrowly escaping his grasp. When you resurface and wipe the water from your eyes, he's nowhere to be seen. You're expecting it when he grabs you from under the water and pops up with you in his arms, but you still shriek and dissolve into laughter. 

That seems to be the theme of the day: laughter. You tease and joke with one another with practiced ease, and you're smiling so much that your cheeks ache. He challenges you to races that he always wins and you try to convince him that you can hold your breath longer than he can, but he catches on quickly when he realizes you're not even going underwater until he starts to come up for air. 

When you've sufficiently tired yourselves out, you sprawl out on a couple beach towels in the sand, an umbrella offering shade from the sun's rays. Even still, Mike is adamant about reapplying your sunscreen, and you have no desire to complain when he massages it into your back, his fingers working to soothe your muscles. 

“Shouldn't I be doing this to you?” you mumble, not bothering to lift your head. “S’not my birthday.”

He shushes you as he works his way from your neck to your lower back. It's not like he's never given you a massage before, but it's also not really a common occurrence. And it's even better lying on a white sand beach with the sound of waves crashing and tropical birds calling all around you. You positively melt, making soft contented noises. When he finishes, lays back down next to you, propped up on an elbow, and draws his fingers through your hair over and over again. 

You wake up about an hour later, a bit disoriented at first, and then pout when you realize you're by yourself. As you sit up and stretch, you stare out over the sparkling water and revel in the slightly cooler breeze. When you grab the towels and start back toward your room, you spot Mike inside, buttoning up his shirt. He looks up when you enter and grins. 

“Have a good nap?” he asks, pecking you on the lips.

“I did,” you answer happily. “Do you know where you want to go for dinner?”

He flops down on the bed, sitting up against the headboard and crossing his legs. “Sure do. Ready whenever you are.”

“You could have woken me up, you know.” You don't bother closing the bathroom door as you change into your dress. “It's not like I needed a nap.”

“We're on vacation, sweetheart. You can nap whenever the hell you want.”

“You make a good point,” you laugh. “Did you sleep too?”

“No, not really. Laid next to you for a while, kept playing with your hair. You're so damn cute when you're asleep, did you know that?”

“Don't you always think I'm cute?”

“More cute than usual. Your cheek was all smushed up against your arm and your nose’d twitch every once in a while. Cute.”

You shake your head, giggling as you try to decide what to do with your hair. “I'm glad you enjoyed yourself.”

The two of you talk until you emerge from the bathroom, your hair twisted at the back of your head and held in place with a claw clip. You slip into the single pair of heels you brought along – specifically for this dress – and then turn to where Mike's still reclined on the bed. 

“You look gorgeous, honey,” he says appreciatively.

You're pretty happy with your look for the night – an ivory floral dress with buttons down the front, a deep burgundy lip, and wedged heels – and are even more pleased that he likes it too. “Thank you,” you say with a smile. “So do you.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything, instead placing his hand low on your back as you leave your room. Rather than heading downtown, you head the opposite direction, and in just a few blocks, you reach an Italian restaurant. It's not very busy, but with it being a weekday and not on the main drag, you didn't expect it to be. The hostess seats you and a waiter arrives promptly to take your drink orders. 

“The lady at the front desk at the hotel recommended this place,” Mike tells you as you peruse the menu. “I figured why not.”

“It sure looks good,” you agree. “Smells good too.”

You make a mental note to thank the woman at hotel reception when you see her next because the food is delicious. You also manage to tip off the waiter that it's Mike's birthday without him noticing and they bring out a generous slice of chocolate cake with a candle stuck in it for dessert. He gives you a look as he blows out the candle and seems relieved when none of the workers come out to sing happy birthday. 

He insists on giving you the first bite, holding out his fork for you to try. Just like the food, the cake is incredible. Neither of you can handle another bite, so you get it boxed up to bring back to the hotel. When you get back to the room, Mike pulls you into his arms and holds you close for a few moments, swaying slightly. You smile and lay your head on his chest, reveling in the closeness. 

“Will you go for a walk with me?” he asks as he rubs your back.

“Of course, baby,” you agree. 

You both kick off your shoes and head out onto the beach as the sun sets. Mike keeps your hand firmly in his, your fingers laced together. Slowly, you make your way down to the water's edge, letting the gentle waves lap at your bare feet. For a while, you walk along the shore in silence, more than happy to enjoy the evening breeze at his side. 

“Let's head back,” Mike suggests, his other hand shoved in his pocket. 

“Are you sure?” you ask. “It's so nice out.”

“Yeah, c’mon,” he insists, gently pulling you back toward the hotel. 

Your brows furrow, but you let it go and accompany him back the way you came. “Are you feeling all right?”

“What?” he says, seemingly caught off guard. “Yeah, honey, I'm fine.”

You don't believe him, but you let him be for a while, trying to figure out what might have happened between the restaurant and now. When you reach your private little stretch of sand, you turn to face him and reach your other hand up to his cheek. “Where's your head at, baby?” you ask gently. 

“I'm sorry,” he sighs, taking both of your hands in his. “I'm good, I promise. Just…” He trails off, swallowing hard, and then drops down onto one knee. 

Your tears are instant, a soft sound catching in your throat. “Oh, Mike,” you say thickly. 

“I love you so much, sweetheart, more than words can say. And I think I've been ready to do this for a lot longer than I realized. When I blew out that candle at dinner, the only thing I could think to wish for was this – you. There was a time when I thought I'd never get this, that I didn't deserve it. But over the last two years, you've shown me everyday that even someone like me is deserving and worthy of love. There's so much of it in your heart and you give it so freely to so many people and I consider myself lucky to be one of them, to get even a fraction of what you have to offer. Everything good in my life is because of you and I don't want you to ever wonder how I feel about you.”

It's strange, smiling so broadly while you cry, but how could you do anything else right now? You may have been thinking about him proposing that morning, but it wasn't even on your radar this evening. Regardless of the timing, you know your answer – you have for a very long time. 

“You have to actually ask me,” you say with a wet laugh. 

He breaks into the most beautiful smile you've ever seen, his own eyes misty, and pulls a small box out of his pocket. As he opens it for you, he asks the most important question anyone has ever asked you. 

“My sweet, gorgeous girl,” he murmurs, “will you marry me?”

Your jaw drops, hands flying up to cover your mouth. The ring is stunning, so much more unique than anything you would have picked out, and once again, you're grateful for his taste in jewelry. “Baby,” you whisper, voice trembling along with your hands, “yes, of course I will.”

He stands before you can drop down to his level and presses his lips to yours. Your arms loop around his neck and he hugs you so tightly that he lifts you up off the ground and spins you. “Love you so much,” he says against your neck. 

“I love you,” you echo, torn between sobbing and laughing. “Oh, Mikey.”

Even when he lowers your feet back to the sand, he keeps his arms around you as if he can't get close enough to you. You feel the same way so often, like no matter how long you hold him, it'll never be enough. He cradles you against his body as he kisses your shoulder and neck, breathing you in. 

“Can I see the ring?” you finally ask, though you don't really want to let go of him. 

It's as if he's just remembered he's still holding the box and chuckles to himself. He pulls your engagement ring out and you hold out your hand, trying and failing to stop it from shaking. But then he takes it in his and presses a gentle kiss to it before sliding the ring onto your fourth finger. 

A fresh wave of tears well up in your eyes as you admire it – both the ring itself and that you get to wear a ring on that finger. “Mike, baby, it's so beautiful,” you sniffle, watching the stones glint in the remaining sunlight. “It's absolutely perfect.”

“You're sure?” he asks, tucking a loose hair behind your ear. “We can always look at something different.”

You shake your head. “I love it,” you maintain. “It's just… god, it's so much better than I could have ever imagined.” You take his face in your hands and kiss him deeply before pulling back to continue admiring the ring. 

It's a gold band with delicate little vines and leaves and two small diamonds on either side of the main stone, a brilliant blue and purple gem. You're actually speechless as you stare at it, wondering how hard it was for him to find and if he knew as soon as he saw it that it was the one for you. 

He takes your hand, his thumb brushing against the band. “It's alexandrite,” he tells you, gesturing to the largest center stone. “And there's a matching wedding band that'll fit right below it. When I saw it, I don't know, it just felt like you. Felt right. According to the saleswoman, it's supposed to bring good luck –” he rolls his eyes – “and balance and creativity. Y’know, if you buy into that shit.”

You laugh, dropping your head against his chest. “Never change, Mikey,” you snort. 

He lifts your chin and gazes into your eyes, his own expression incomprehensibly soft. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“For what?” 

“Everything,” he tells you. “I know you don't see it this way, but from the moment you came into my life, you changed everything for me. You've – god, you've given me so much, given me yourself , and just the fact that you love me…” He trails off, blinking rapidly, and you wrap your arms around him. 

“To know that I did something right that you love me too,” he says thickly after a few moments, “means the world to me.”

“You better get used to it,” you joke, emotion in your own voice, “because you've got me for life, Mike Logan. There is nothing that could make me stop loving you.”

It doesn't come as a surprise when he bends down and lifts you into his arms and starts back toward your room. You pepper his face and neck with kisses, holding tightly to him. He doesn't put you down until you reach the bed, where he lays you out atop the covers. He stands, looking down at you looking utterly lovestruck and your heart feels ready to explode. 

“Wait,” you say softly, sitting up and reaching for his hand. “Did you get a ring for yourself?”

He chuckles and pulls the box back out of his pocket and lifts up the foam and velvet holder where your ring sat, revealing two more bands. One is the matching wedding band for your engagement ring, almost identical but without the alexandrite in the center and a couple more small diamonds. You reach for Mike's instead, a thicker, more plain band with vines and leaves wreathing it that match the ones on yours. 

Without another thought, you slide off the bed and go down on one knee in front of him. “Baby, in the last two years, you've given me things I'd only ever dreamed of having. With you, I feel so safe. I know you know how much that means to me, that security is something I always needed but never really found. You didn't just tell me I could trust you, you showed me. You gave me the space to be myself and met me with patience and understanding and so much grace. You became my home – something I didn't know if I'd ever find with another person. 

“You make me laugh even on my worst days. You hold me when I cry. You lift me up when I feel low. And you have made me happier than I ever knew I could be. You're my best friend, Mikey, my favorite person, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The emotion in your voice is thick and he hangs on every word. As soon as he's certain you're finished, he breaks into a beautiful smile, his chin just barely quivering. “You have to actually ask me,” he breathes, echoing your earlier words. 

You laugh, a few tears spilling over as you take his hand. “Mike, baby… will you marry me?”

His smile goes even wider and he nods, choked up. You slide his ring on and take a moment to admire it and how it matches yours perfectly. “There's nothing I've ever wanted more,” he tells you in a whisper as he pulls you to your feet, “than to be your husband. To call you my wife.”

You stand on tiptoe, your hands moving to his face, and he meets you halfway, his lips working in tandem with yours. How such a simple action can make you feel so much is beyond description. You don't think you've ever been so happy before, so hopeful about the future. Book deals come and go, plans can be broken, and nothing in life is guaranteed. But what you have with Mike transcends all of that. Without a doubt, you will love this man until the day you die, and if there's anything after this life, you'll love him there too. 

“I need you, honey.” His words reach your ears and your hands automatically start working open the buttons of his shirt. “Need to feel you.”

You kiss him deeply and push the shirt off his shoulders before you both shed the rest of your own clothing. Once you're both bare to each other, you push him back onto the bed and straddle him. “I always need you, baby,” you purr, dropping down to cover his body with yours. “I was made to be yours.”

Reaching back, you guide his cock into you, your eyes fluttering shut as you take all of him. He makes a soft sound as he comes to rest inside you, his arms pulling you as close as possible. You release a shuddering breath and press your forehead against his before you slowly start to move, slow rolls of your hips as you ride him. 

“Mike,” you sigh, fingers tangling in his hair. 

“I know, baby, I got you.” He alternates between digging his fingers into your skin and running his hands down the curve of your back. 

You know neither of you are going to last all that long, but that's not what it's about. Right now, all you want is to be close to him, as close as you can get, and you know he wants the same. He starts to rock up into you in perfect rhythm with the movement of your hips and you find yourself letting out little sighs and breathy whimpers. 

“That's it, babygirl, let me hear you,” he encourages. “Sound so pretty.”

You can't help but do what he asks, not even because he asks for it but rather that he just feels that good. You continue to grind on him, but after a while, your legs start to burn and he seems to know you're frustrated. 

“Come here, lay down,” he directs, waiting until you're on your side, your back to his chest. Then he guides himself back into you and pulls you as close as he can, enveloping you in his arms. 

“Oh, baby,” you gasp, reaching behind you to place a hand on his hip. “Just like that, right there, don't stop…”

From there, you lose yourself in the sensations, in the feeling of his breath on the back of your neck, the hand he has splayed across your belly, the low rumbles of the moans in his chest. You climb higher and higher together, and when you start to clench around him, he slides his fingers lower to rub your clit. It's over quickly after that, with you going tense and crying out as you come, and Mike follows close behind, spilling inside you in great shudders. 

You keep your hand on his hip, your thumb tracing soft patterns across his skin. “Will you stay in me?” you ask in a whisper, desperately wanting to stay just like this, with him still held in you and holding you tight. He kisses your shoulder, hand moving up to your chest, simply cupping your breasts, but he keeps his hips still.

“Never gonna get tired of this,” he mumbles, sounding like he's already half asleep. “My sweet girl.”

You can't keep the smile off your face. You're hyper-aware of the ring on your finger and even as sleep comes for both of you and drags you under, you know you've never been this happy. 

You wake up to Mike's head between your legs, already in the middle of a soft moan. Your hands fist the sheets and you don't even bother to open your eyes. You have no way of knowing how long he's been at it, but judging by the feeling, you're pretty worked up. There's a wetness that has nothing to do with his tongue sticking to your thighs and even through the remaining fog of sleep, you know he's going to make you come very soon. 

He licks into you over and over before moving back up to suck your clit, his hands keeping your legs from closing around him. He's never lacking when it comes to enthusiasm, but there's something almost frantic about the way he's eating you out. Your back arches and your mouth falls open in a weak, high-pitched moan as you come, and he eagerly laps up your release. By the time you push his head away, you're trembling from the intensity and gasping for breath. 

He resurfaces, kissing and worshipping your body as he goes. His lips map every inch of you, from your belly all the way up to your neck. By then, you're a bit more awake and you take his face in your hands to kiss him enthusiastically. He hums happily, his tongue stroking yours and drinking in all your soft noises. When you part, he goes right back to pressing his mouth wherever he can reach, this time to both cheeks, your nose, your forehead, and both eyelids. 

Before you can remember how to say good morning, he draws a hand up to your neck and grips your throat, exerting just the slightest amount of pressure. A much louder moan rips through you and your eyes roll back in your head as your hips buck up, searching for friction. He's done the same thing before, and the more he does it, the more powerful an effect it has on you, making your breathing go ragged, soft little whines leaving your mouth with each exhale. 

“You really like that, don't you, pretty girl?” he murmurs.

For a moment, all you can do is nod, breathing hard to get yourself back under control. 

“D’you wanna tell me about that?” He's curious, that much is obvious, but he doesn't seem bothered by it.

“It's… it's not a choking thing,” you say, voice wobbly. “It's your hands.”

“Yeah? What about ‘em?”

Your cheeks heat up. “I mean, I've always loved them. They're just… You have really nice hands, baby. They're so big, they cover so much of me, and you definitely know how to use them.” You pause, giggling. “I don't know, it's just really hot. I love how much bigger they are than mine, like when you hold my hand, it's kinda like when you hug me. You have this way of making it feel like you're… enveloping me or something. It feels safe and warm and right. Or like when you touch my chest.”

You take his hand and place it on your breast. You're certainly not lacking in that department, but his hand really is so big that it covers most of you. “Just seeing that, feeling it, makes me crazy.” You slide his hand back up to your throat and your eyelids flutter.

He squeezes, just barely, and you let out a desperate moan, completely out of your control. “S’good,” you mumble, hips rolling again. 

“Jesus Christ, look at you,” he breathes, in total awe. “Wish I woulda picked up on this a hell of a lot sooner. So fuckin’ sexy, babygirl, goddamn.”

“Will – will you fuck me?” you ask, too breathless to whine properly. “Just like this?”

“You can have whatever you want, sweetheart, ‘specially when you look and sound like that.”

“Slow,” you add, reopening your eyes so you can gaze up at him. “Wanna feel all of you. Want you to –” You break off into an absolutely wrecked moan when he pushes into you in one slow thrust, his hand still at your throat. He barely gives you a second to adjust, already pulling out in a slow drag. It's exactly what you wanted and your hips buck up hungrily. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, moving at a measured pace. “Love you so much.”

You whimper pathetically as you writhe on his cock. “Love – oh, fu-uck – I love you, baby, it's so good, gonna make me come so fucking hard.”

“Good,” he replies, keeping that gentle pressure on your throat as he slides in and out of you. “Want you to come all over this cock, fucking soak me, babygirl. Show me how good I make you feel.”

Your cunt throbs around his length and you shudder, thighs twitching where they're anchored at his waist. You grow increasingly desperate, tears forming at the corner of your eyes as he gradually drives you closer. You grip at his forearm, feeling his muscles flex to keep from actually squeezing your neck, and your other hand grabs at the sheets, trying to brace for the orgasm you can feel rushing toward you. 

“Gonna come,” you gasp, back arching. “Just like that, baby, I'm so fucking close, please!”

He gives you exactly what you need to get you there and instead of crying out when your body tenses, you go silent. It's so intense that you can't make a sound; all you hear is the wet sound of him fucking you through it as you gush around him, your knuckles white where you're clinging to the sheets. 

You know you're capable of coming without direct stimulation to your clit, but it definitely doesn't happen every time and it's even rarer that you squirt like this without it. It's a testament to just how much he turns you on, the effect he has on you even after this long. 

Just as you begin to come down from your high, he speeds up. By all rights, you would still consider it on the slower side, but his thrusts are a little harder as he groans in approval. You hardly recognize the noise that leaves your mouth in response, a desperate, broken, ecstatic cry, almost a growl. 

“You keep squeezing me like that, honey, I'm not gonna last,” he warns you, breathless and nothing short of gorgeous. 

You're beyond words, unable to do anything but rock against him, chasing the second orgasm that's burning deep within you – well, technically the third of the morning. You're still throbbing from the residual waves of the last one as you wind tighter and tighter and cling to him. 

What he's sacrificed in speed, he makes up for in force, his hips slamming against your ass with each thrust. When he actually starts to grunt and growl, his cock impossibly hard inside of you, you fall over the edge – and this time, you're not even the least bit quiet. This time, you very nearly scream as you come undone, both hands clinging to his forearm. He curses and somehow manages to press his other hand over your mouth, muffling your moans and shouts as he comes, emptying himself deep inside you. You couldn't stop moaning even if you tried, and there's something about him covering your mouth that sparks something else within you. 

Both of you go completely limp as you come down, his hand falling to the side. He keeps the other one on your neck, but just lets it rest there, applying no pressure at all, his cock giving the occasional feeble twitch within you. You're both a mess between last night and this morning, but you wouldn't have it any other way. You stroke your hand across his back, gently massaging his neck and shoulder blades until he slides out of you and flops over onto his back. 

You follow him and lay your head on his chest, watching the ring on your left hand sparkle in the morning sun. “We're engaged,” you whisper as a smile spreads onto your face. “You're gonna be my husband.”

“We are,” he chuckles sleepily. “Can't wait to start saying ‘my wife.’ Gonna talk about you even more than I already do just so I can annoy the living shit out of Lennie.”

You giggle, unable to hold in your bliss. “I'm not even gonna pretend to scold you for that. Every time you call me your wife, I feel like my heart is about to explode. In a good way, of course.”

“Thank god. For a moment there I was worried I was gonna have to get you a pacemaker as a wedding gift.”

You laugh, watching as he lifts his hand to thread your fingers together, both of you admiring your engagement ring. “You did good, detective,” you say softly. “Really fucking good.”

“Only the best for my girl,” he says as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

After a bit more laziness, Mike coaxes you into the spacious shower, his hands and mouth all over you just as much as the water. He holds you from behind, runs those perfect hands across your belly and massages your breasts, catches your nipples between his fingers. You moan softly, your head lolling back onto his shoulder.

“So good, babygirl,” he whispers, so quiet that you strain to hear him over the noise of the shower. “Makes me wanna fill that pretty pussy up all over again.”

You whimper, a shiver running through you when he pinches and tugs your nipples. You lift a hand to curl around the back of his neck and relax completely against his chest, somehow managing to stay on your feet. 

“That's exactly what she needs, isn't it?” he presses, voice low and intoxicating. “Just wants to be so full of me, yeah?”

“Yes,” you pant, rubbing your thighs together. “Oh, Mike, yes.”

“Could spend all day making you come, sweetheart. Just listening to those gorgeous moans, getting you soaking wet with just my voice, my fingers, my cock. God, you're so fucking beautiful, you make me crazy.”

You shudder again, dripping wet and aching for him. “Baby, if we don't go do something in public,” you choke out, “I'm not letting you leave this hotel room until tomorrow.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing. We've still got four days after today. And, shall I remind you, we got engaged last night. If that doesn't call for wasting an entire day fucking, what does?”

“Fine, twist my arm,” you say with a mock-sigh. You turn around to face him, arms circling his neck, smiling when his eyes rove over your body. “What's the plan then? What're you gonna do to me?”

“Well,” he muses, looking downright mischievous, “I do have an idea. Now that I've gotten you all clean, I wanna mess you right the hell back up again.”

“Darn,” you mumble as you press your lips to his. 

He continues to kiss you even as he reaches behind him to shut the water off. “Housekeeping’s gonna fuckin' hate us, but I can't stop thinking about this.”

He ushers you back into the bedroom, pausing to dry you off before gesturing to the bed. You climb onto it, watching intently as he dries himself and then grabs a fresh towel. He folds it in half and slides it under your ass and your heart rate starts to pick up. You want to ask a million questions about what he has planned, what he can't stop thinking about, but you'll find out soon enough. Whatever it is, there's no doubt in your mind that you'll enjoy it. 

He approaches the bed, a hunger in his eyes that makes the ache between your legs that much more apparent. “What would you say,” he says casually, “if I told you that I wanted to see how many of my fingers you can take?”

Your reaction is instantaneous. “Yes,” you reply, almost cutting him off. “Just – yes.”

He smirks devilishly. “Knew you'd like that idea,” he chuckles, settling between your legs. “S’what my babygirl needs, isn't it? To be stretched open and stuffed full.”

You open your legs wider without even thinking about it. You need this. And it's not like you haven't had the same thought before, of seeing how much of him you can handle. He's never ever left you unsatisfied, but your hunger for him seems to know no bounds. “Make me take it,” you breathe, your voice wavering, betraying how aroused you are. “Please, baby, wanna take your whole hand.”

He moans appreciatively and surges forward to kiss you. “You just lay back and relax for me, sweetheart, yeah? Gonna make it feel so good.”

You have no desire to do anything but what he tells you, which, while not much different than usual, truly just turns you on even more. The idea of him being able to fit his whole hand inside you is quite possibly one of the hottest things you've ever imagined. You love his hands so much, love how good it feels when he touches you with them, holds you, squeezes you, fucks you, and you can't think of anything better than to have one of them filling you up like this, so completely.  

Before he goes any further, he breaks away to grab the bottle of lube he has in his suitcase. He grins when you arch an eyebrow at him. 

“Just exactly how much of this did you plan?” you giggle. 

“Well, the lube was just a good idea. You never know what we might get into,” he says, laughing. “I wasn't sure about the proposal though. I didn't sit down and tell myself that I had to do it while we were here. But I wanted to bring it just in case. Y'know, if it felt like the right time.”

Your smile softens even as he settles back between your spread legs once more. “You're the sweetest man I've ever known. And I love you so much.”

“I love you too, honey. My sweet, gorgeous girl. Now, just relax, all right? And tell me if it hurts or you need a break.”

You nod, propping yourself up against the headboard and pillows. You want to watch everything he does, every expression that crosses his face. Because as hot as this will be for you, how good it'll feel, he's likely going to enjoy it just as much. 

Two of his fingers isn't nothing, but you routinely take that, and even three happens often enough. His cock is beautiful, long and deliciously thick, and every single time he seems to give you that full, stretched feeling you crave. You're fully prepared for this to break you in the best possible way. 

That's how he starts, sliding two fingers into you and quickly working you up to a third. “You're already so wet for me,” he remarks, eyes darting back and forth between your face and your cunt.

“I'm always wet for you, Mikey,” you point out, feeling a bit smug. 

He grins and drops a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Damn right you are. And why's that, babygirl?”

You gasp as he adds a fourth finger, your cunt pulsing around him. “‘Cause you make me feel so good,” you breathe. “And you're unspeakably hot. And you're the love – ah – of my life. My fiance. The man I get to marry.”

“That's right,” he purrs, looking up at you with so much love in his eyes that your chest tightens. “And I'm always gonna take care of you, always gonna make sure you're happy and know how much I love you. That I'd do anything for you. That I consider myself the luckiest man in the world because I get to call you mine. That no matter where we go or what we do, I will always have your back. And that I will do whatever I can to make you feel this good every single day.”

It's a trip, listening to him say some of the sweetest things he's ever said to you with so much love behind them while he does some of the dirtiest things he's ever done to you. You're whimpering steadily, rocking up into his touch, heart pounding, when you reach for his free hand. He laces your fingers together as he pumps in and out of you, a perfect picture of adoration. 

You cry out, doing your best to keep your volume low. “Mikey,” you whine, tears pricking at your eyes – caused both by his loving words and how good he's making you feel. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he encourages, “tell me what you need.”

“I wanna come,” you whimper, your legs already starting to shake. 

He lifts your hand to his mouth and brushes a kiss across your knuckles before letting go. Then his thumb is on your clit, rubbing in slow but firm circles. “Want you to come as much as you can, honey. The more you relax, the easier it'll be. Already doin’ such a good job. This perfect little pussy knows what she wants.”

In no time at all, you're falling apart, your orgasm rolling through you and drawing soft noises from your mouth. He fucks you through it, twisting his wrist as he stretches you wider. Your hands fly to your breasts and toy with your nipples as you ride it out. 

“Perfect, honey, so perfect,” he breathes. He kisses your thighs as you start to come down, his thumb continuing to circle your clit. He slows down enough that you don't feel overstimulated. “How's that? Think you can take a little more?”

You don't even have to think about your answer. “Yes,” you say fervently. “Give me more, baby, it's so good.” 

As gently as he can, he introduces his thumb into the mix, forming a duck beak with his hand. Your head falls back and you slump against the pillows for the time being, allowing your body to relax, your hips rolling slowly in time with his movements. You hear the little click of the bottle of lube as he uses it to help slick things along. You've never really had a need to use lube yourself, instead keeping it around for Mike's benefit, but the last thing he'd ever want is to hurt you. 

He slides his fingers all the way into your cunt and pauses when he reaches his knuckles, carefully rotating his hand. “Jesus,” he murmurs, awed. “I can feel you opening up for me, babygirl. You want it so bad, don't you?”

You whine again, spreading your legs as widely as you can. “So bad,” you echo, breathless. “Need you in me, baby, please.”

“Sound so pretty when you beg for it, always so polite. Gonna give this pussy what she deserves.”

Between the wet heat of your arousal and the lube, he's able to stretch you even further, wider than you ever thought you could take. It's inexplicably intense and you're beyond words, drinking in all the praise and encouragement he gives you. He keeps contact with your clit at all times, which helps to keep you from feeling any pain. There are a few times as he's rotating his hand in an attempt to get you past his knuckles that you suck in a sharp breath, not so much feeling pain as the intensity threatens to overwhelm you. But he's right there, soothing you and backing off a bit until you're ready to try again. 

“Just think about it, honey,” he says, his voice low and seductive, “think about how good it's gonna feel when I'm all the way in. You're always telling me how much you love it when I fill you up. I'm gonna make sure you're so full of me, takin' as much as you can take, ‘cause that's what my good girl deserves. Wanna give you everything, everything you could ever want, always.”

You sob, body alternating between tensing and relaxing as you ride the waves of pleasure. The most you can offer him are breathless moans of his name or a whimpered “baby” when he does or says something especially hot. And even though he's going slowly, you can feel him making progress. 

It happens suddenly. One moment, he's pumping his fingers in and out of you, pausing to stretch you around the width of his knuckles, and the next, your body accepts him and his entire hand slides into your cunt, filling you in a way you've never experienced.

You let go of what little control you had remaining, feeling yourself slip into that intoxicatingly floaty place he sometimes brings you to where everything is hazy and so, so good. The rest of the world burns away, leaving just the two of you and the bed. Nothing – no one – else exists and all you can do is throb around him, totally out of your mind. Punched out little whimpers fall from your lips as you tighten around his wrist, your entire body trembling. 

“Oh, babygirl,” he whispers. “Open your eyes for me, want you to look, see how fucking good you're taking me.”

It takes a Herculean effort, but you would do whatever he asked right now. There's not an ounce of desire in you to do anything but. Your eyes blink open, bleary with tears, and you follow the line of his arm down between your legs, sitting up to see his hand disappearing inside you, just his wrist visible. 

The moan you let out is almost inhuman as the sight pushes you to the very edge. Every twitch and throb around him intensifies the feeling, stretching you beyond belief. Then he's rubbing your clit in earnest and you're gone. It's easily the most powerful orgasm you've ever had and you want to scream, but all you can do is gasp, desperately dragging air into your lungs as you shudder rhythmically around him. 

You're just barely coming down from your high when he starts moving. Gentle little thrusts forward and back, his fingers curling inside you, rubbing against that sensitive spot over and over again. He transforms you into a complete and utter mess; the only parts of your body you're aware of are the ones he's currently touching. And then you're seizing up around him once more, your muscles clamping down so tightly that he can hardly move within you, and you're crying out, sobbing, gushing , soaking him and the towel beneath you, your inner thighs, all of it. There's a ringing in your ears and you're leaning down to grip his wrist, not entirely sure if you're urging him to keep moving or trying to stop him altogether. 

And then it's too much, too much, baby, please, and he's withdrawing his hand as slowly and as gently as he can manage, and immediately wrapping it around his cock, still drenched with a mixture of lube and your release, and he comes in just a matter of seconds, spilling across your belly, marking you with the evidence of his desire. 

You lay there, hardly able to keep your eyes open, half giggling, half crying as pleasurable little aftershocks course through you, making your hips twitch. And then Mike is beside you, cradling your face with a clean hand, saying something. His mouth is moving, but all you can do is shiver and wipe at your eyes, a ridiculous smile on your face. 

His voice starts to fade in and you focus on his expression. He's gazing down at you with adoration, but you can see a trace of concern. “Just need to know you're okay, sweetheart,” he says as he strokes your cheek. 

You manage to nod even as a sob breaks loose from your chest. “It was so good,” you whimper, absently aware that you probably look and sound insane, crying with a blissed out smile on your face. “So good, baby, love you so much.”

“Pretty intense, huh?” he sighs fondly. “You did amazing, babygirl, you were so good for me. Love you.”

You sigh softly, turning toward him, but he's already lifting you into his arms and carrying you into the bathroom once again. This time he heads for the large soaking tub – with more than enough room for the two of you – and climbs in with you, making sure you're securely curled against his chest before leaning forward to turn the knobs. 

As the tub fills around you, you zone out, the steady beating of his heart calming and grounding you. He strokes your back and your side and your arm, kisses your hair and your forehead, your cheeks and lips, sometimes talks softly to you, always telling you how much he loves you or how good you did. The warm water does wonders to soothe the achiness in your body that becomes more apparent the further you get from that perfect, hazy place, but it still has nothing on how it feels to be held by him. 

“My beautiful girl,” you hear him whisper, sounding just as lovesick as you feel. “You're the best thing that ever happened to me.”

You can't be certain, but you're pretty sure you hum softly as if to say you agree, that you feel the same. Sleep swallows you whole very soon after, and his arms around you are all that you need to feel safe.

You wake to the sound of the door to your room closing and locking. You smell food, and whatever it is makes your mouth water and your stomach growl. Out of sheer horniness, you skipped breakfast and fucked at least until lunchtime before bathing and falling asleep. You don't even remember Mike moving you to the bed, but he must have – your legs feel like jelly even now, so there's no way you walked here on your own. 

The mattress dips behind you and Mike strokes your side. He even put you in pajamas, you realize with a rush of affection. Just a tank top and matching pair of shorts, they're nothing special, but he knows they're some of your favorites because they're so comfortable. You blink open your eyes, squinting reflexively at the bright sun filtering in through the patio doors. As you adjust to the light, Mike comes into view, a soft smile on his face. 

“Hi, honey,” he says warmly. “How’re you feeling?”

You're about to say that you've never felt better, but you move to sit up at the same time and wince. You're abruptly aware of just how sore you are from the waist down – and swollen. You're not surprised given the nonstop fuck-a-thon you've been having, but it's more prominent than you expected. 

“I'm okay,” you tell him, and it's not a lie, really. You've never been happier despite the ache between your legs – and in your legs themselves now that you think about it. 

He arches an eyebrow, clearly in disbelief. “You packed ibuprofen, right?” he asks, already heading toward your suitcase. 

“It's in my bathroom bag,” you tell him, gesturing toward the other room as you gingerly sit up. You're not going to turn down the pills, but you've absolutely experienced worse. 

He returns quickly, offering you the pills and water, watching you with furrowed brows. 

“Come here,” you tell him, beckoning him closer with a finger. When he leans in, you kiss him softly, linger just for a moment or two. “I'm fine, baby. Just a little sore. And believe me, it was all more than worth it.”

He continues frowning, but you fix him with a hard stare and he caves. “Okay, but you'll tell me if you need anything?”

“Of course,” you assure him, giving his hand a squeeze. “Do I smell food?”

That makes him smile and he carries over a tray he'd set on the little desk in the corner. “‘Bout time we ate, don't ya think?” 

“I'm actually starving to death as we speak,” you joke. He sets the tray between you on the bed and you groan in relief. 

“Medium, right?” he asks, gesturing toward the sizable steak closest to you. 

“I'd eat it if it was still mooing,” you mutter, snatching up the silverware and sawing off a piece.

He laughs as he watches you before digging into his own. “Didn't think you'd really feel like going out to eat,” he says, a chunk of beef already in his mouth. 

“You thought right. Oh my god, this is good. I might leave you for the cook.”

He rolls his eyes and steals a bite off your plate. When you gape at him in shock, he shrugs. “That's what you get.”

“Now I really am gonna starve,” you pout. Even though you're both joking around, you watch as he sighs and offers you a piece of his own steak and you eat it off his fork with a smug smile. “Thank you, baby.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters as he spears a piece of his baked potato. 

Once you're sated, you and Mike walk down near the water and lay down on large beach towels in the sand. You opted for a bikini top but kept your shorts on, not wanting to irritate things further. You talk and laugh and kiss and cuddle and doze, all while soaking in the Florida sun. Mike is adamant about helping you reapply your sunscreen and you don't fight him on it, instead laying on your stomach while he massages the cream into your back. You love the life you have with him back in New York, but you'll always miss this little piece of paradise when you leave. 

You decide not to tell anyone about your engagement until you're back home. For a moment you worry that you're being selfish, wanting Mike to yourself while you're here, but it's clear he wants the same thing, so it's an easy choice. You definitely miss Penny, but you asked Jen to check in on her while you were gone and you know she's in good hands. 

It's easier than you expected to take a bit of a break from sex, though you still can't keep your hands off each other. Sometimes you get a little caught up in Mike's kisses and let your hands roam more than you intended, but you're just too sore to do much. Instead, you spend the next couple days being touristy, taking in some of the nearby views, and spending a lot of time on the beach or in the water. 

The night before you leave, Mike makes love to you with the sliding patio doors wide open, the sound of the waves crashing into the shore adding to the ambiance. He's gentle and so sweet, so tender, and you finish together, his fingers laced with yours above your head. Checking out the following morning is bittersweet to say the least, and you can't help but feel a little sad leaving the place where he proposed to you – where you proposed to him, come to think of it – but the day before, you'd taken a few pictures with your Polaroid to have something to commemorate it. 

The flight home goes smoothly, and though Mike is still nervous, it's a noticeable difference from the flight down. You get home just before noon and Mike has the rest of the day and the next off before going back to work. When you walk into the apartment, Penny comes tearing down the hall, collar jingling like mad, and you drop to the floor to scoop her up into your arms. 

“Hi, sweetie!” you cry, petting and scratching her as she wails and rubs her cheeks all over your face. “I know, I missed you too! Were you good for Auntie Jen?”

You continue on like this, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the living room as you pet and talk to her, for the next five minutes while Mike brings your bags into the bedroom. When he comes back out, he leans against the wall and watches you, a smile on his face. 

“What?” you laugh when you look up at him. “She's my baby!”

He lifts his hands in surrender. “I wasn't judging,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You're cute.”

Your smile widens. “Penny, he thinks you're cute!”

“I wasn't talking about the damn cat,” he groans, “and you know it.”

You do, in fact, know it, but you don't care. You're already on your feet and carrying Penny over to him. “Tell Daddy you missed him,” you coo, holding her right up to his face. 

He resolutely ignores her, instead glaring at you, but he can't help but smile when she gently lifts her paw and presses it to his cheek, her whiskers twitching as she sniffs him. With another roll of his eyes and a long-suffering sigh, he pets the top of her head a few times. 

“Are you happy now?”

“Thrilled, actually.”

Reader's outfits in the order they appear (left to right, top to bottom), though the blue sundress is obviously sans turtleneck.

Mike's watch.

Reader's engagement ring and wedding band are the first three. The fourth is Mike's ring. I have fallen head over heels in love with this ring. I NEED it.