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be still, my heart

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He freezes mid-motion, suspended in limbo and caught in the confusion of the request. He looks into his husband’s eyes, searching for a clue. He didn’t think the first word he heard when they were in bed together for the first time as a married couple would be “stop”.

They’ve been married for 19 hours and four of them were at their reception, another three at the afterparty that had spontaneously come together, two hours of the morning were dedicated to tears and goodbyes and then there was the mid-morning nap that lasted well into the afternoon. The only touching they’ve done has been arms slipped around shoulders and waists to hold the other close as they danced or heads leaned against each other as they fought to stay awake. He could hardly count the points of contact when their bodies had been draped haphazardly on David’s tiny twin bed. 

It’s been 19 hours and they’re finally alone and rested enough to concentrate on each other and they’re naked and he’s finally buried in the tight warmth of his husband’s body and then... “stop”. 

“David?” Patrick asks, hovering over him, almost nose to nose. He desperately wants to move, to rock his hips against his husband’s thighs, to hear the sounds that escape when his rhythm is just right.

David closes his eyes for a moment, then catches Patrick’s concerned gaze, as his hands slide down Patrick’s back. “Just… can you… just hold still for a minute?”

If that’s what David needs, he’s going to find a way to do it, even if everything inside him is screaming for him to move. “Y-yeah… Should I pull ou…”

“No!” David cuts him off, grasping at him, to bring him closer, to keep him inside. “Stay still. I just want to remember this. How this feels. Right now, with you.”

Patrick hears the quiver in his words and tries to pretend it doesn’t overwhelm his already too-full heart that his husband is trying to memorize everything about the way this perfect moment feels. Surrounded by each other and connected in the most intimate way... it’s a lot, if he lets himself think about it. He knows David would shudder at the idea of using the term, but they’re married now. This is making love, isn’t it? Maybe it always has been.

“I never thought I’d have any of this,” David whispers. “But I do. And I have it because of you… because of us.” 

Patrick dips his head, nuzzling against David’s cheek and his meticulously groomed stubble. He realizes if he tries to respond, he’s going to say something that will inevitably make David cry because he can already detect the tears in his voice and knows it won’t take much. 

He brings one hand up to cradle David’s cheek, and David turns into his touch. He shifts- subtly, unconsciously- as he bows to kiss David, deep and wanting, coaxing the breath from his body.

David moans softly and Patrick can’t stop himself from drawing his hips back and thrusting in even as he’d tried to honor David’s request. David’s grip on him tightens as his chest arches up against Patrick’s, David’s plush lips parting in a gasp. 

A tremble runs through Patrick, watching David react to such a simple motion. He slowly drags his thumb over the perfect shape of David’s mouth, entranced as David’s tongue flutters over him, then grazes his teeth along the tip before biting down, pulling him further in. 

David’s expert oral techniques translate well enough to have Patrick practically twitching with need. “David, I gotta... please …” 

He nods frantically. “Yes. Yes. Please.”

Patrick groans with relief, quickly establishing a cadence of strokes that he knows makes David crazy, and is rewarded with David’s hands splaying across his back, pulling them impossibly closer together. He feels David’s fingertips trail over his ribs on one side and slide between them, his knuckles brushing Patrick’s stomach as he wraps his hand around himself. 

David’s ragged breaths tease him as he pants against Patrick’s neck. David whimpers, tensing. 

“Come for me, David.” He barely speaks the words and David’s throwing his head back, shuddering through his release, clutching Patrick so tightly he can’t keep going. One more thrust and he’s losing himself in waves of pleasure, the tremor quaking through his body at the sight of his husband blissed out underneath him.

He all but collapses on David, who seems glad to take his weight, to hold them both together so they don’t shake apart or away from each other. He wants to stay here forever, stay in this moment- warm and satiated, basking in the afterglow of married sex. He smiles against David’s shoulder. They’re married

He knows without looking that David is smiling, too, that loose, uninhibited grin he gets when he’s a little drunk or after a really good orgasm. He skims his fingers over David’s chest - small circles around his nipple, a zig zag pattern down his arm. He thinks he’ll stay here as long as he can, unwilling to pull out, pull back, and lose this close, quiet moment where he can feel David everywhere.

He didn’t think he’d get to have this either. He’d thought he’d be a husband- married to a woman and struggling through a wedding night that could have never felt like this. But he’s here now.

David turns to kiss his temple, then catches his eyes. “Is this what marriage is?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “This is what our marriage is.”