Archive of Our Own ^beta

You and the man you love are having dinner.

He is a romantic at heart, so you have allowed him to light up a candle and set it in the middle of your modest dining table, where it's burning away. Bright daylight coming in from outside absorbs the faint light of the candle, making it somewhat useless, but you choose not to question the sense in lighting one up. You are trying to be romantic, too.

You look over at the man you love, who insisted on cooking for you today. You don't expect anything fancy, given that neither of you are great cooks, so you're not surprised to see him bring a simple cheese quiche to the table. You open your mouth to compliment him anyway, but he holds up a finger and hurries back into the kitchen. You are surprised when he returns with a bottle of red wine and two wine glasses, neither of which you haven't seen in the house before.

You know he gets headaches from wine. Why would he risk one?

"Hey," you say. "What's with the-?"

"Easy," he murmurs, and for a moment the world goes white.

You blink a couple of times, after which you smile. You and the man you love are having dinner, and you will drink wine.

*

You and the man you love haven't been together very long, so at this point it's hard to say what counts as unusual for you two. The times you have dined together have been quiet, both of you minding your own plates, but this time you can't help but notice that he's staring at you.

"What is it?" you ask.

He smiles at you, his grey eyes

(wait)

still fixed on you.

"It's been a week by now," he says. "What do you think about your new life?"

The question catches you off-guard. You were hoping that your emotions show on the surface, that it's clear that you're happy and that you dread the day you will be inevitably pulled back into London. But maybe you're expecting too much; you have tried to close yourself off so hard that you must have become good at it. You know he is insecure at heart, so you reassure him:

"It's been wonderful." You chuckle, and it sounds nervous. You don't know why; it's just him. "Frankly, I didn't think it could be like this for me anymore."

"Like what?"

"Relaxing." That's the first word that springs to your mind. Your life is full of danger these days, and you know those dangers lie in wait of your return, but these last seven days have been easy and light, both for your tired body and your anxious mind. You smile easy. "Can't remember the last time I felt that way. We don't get much of that, do we?"

"Not indeed." He puts his utensils down, placing his elbows against the table so he can look at you some more. "I do love how relaxation looks on you. I would love to see more of that."

His words bring forth a rush of pleasure within you, and you can feel the tips of your cheeks heating up. You reach across the table for his hand, gathering his fingers into your grip. They are long and slender, and they look right against your hand.

(slender)
(since when has he been)

"Easy," he says, returning your grip.

You realize that your fingers hurt, and you see that it's because your hand has balled up into a fist; you are still holding onto his hand. Embarrassed, you try to pull away, but he lifts your joined hands off the table and brings yours over to his lips.

"You deserve your moments of grace," he says, kissing you on the knuckles. You relax again, and reach out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

"You too," you reply. You think you could get lost in those eyes if you look too long, but for a moment, you let yourself look.

*

You both eat one piece of the quiche before he takes the rest away. This time, you follow him into the kitchen, sneaking after him so he won't notice, but once you are inside, you give yourself away with a gasp.

"You made us pudding?" you ask, seeing him take two bowls of chocolate pudding out of the refrigerator. He pouts at you over his shoulder.

"It's actually from the store," he admits. "But it was supposed to be a surprise! Spoilsport."

His words are scolding, but his eyes are laughing, so you laugh too. You walk over to him as he puts the remaining quiche into th the refrigerator, wrapping your arms around him from behind.

(he's too small)

"What are you thinking?" he asks.

"How nice this is." You rest your cheek against the nape of his neck, touching your nose against his skin. He smells of cologne, which is unusual, but you suppose it's part of his idea of what's romantic; it makes you wonder if you should have dressed up too. He has put so much effort into this, and all you have done is enjoy the fruits of that effort.

"I would have liked that."

You frown, pulling away as he starts to turn around in your arms. "Liked what?"

"You dressing up." You are face to face with him and his arms drop around you, drawing you close to him. "I always wanted to see you in a tuxedo. It's a shame we never got the opportunity."

Something is-

"Easy."

Heart beating fast, you turn away with a slight scoff. You're not sure why you are so flustered, but it's of course flattering that he wants to see you in formalwear. You are sure he has his fantasies about you, and you have yours about him. It's perfectly normal to talk about these fantasies, even if they're small.

"It wouldn't have been much of a sight," you say.

"I disagree. But well, it can't be helped now." He leans down to kiss the side of your neck. "I will see you in a whole new way very soon. I look forward to that."

"What does that mean?" you ask.

"In time." He releases you, turning back towards the kitchen counter. "For now, let's go back into the dining room. I hope this pudding is decent."

Something is-

(off)

-strange, but you can sense that he's building up towards something. If he wants to be full of surprises today, you will allow him that, so you return to the dining room.

*

He doesn't look at you during your dessert. Instead, he looks out of the window.

"Jon," he says once you have taken the last spoonful of pudding into your mouth. "Look outside. It's such a beautiful day."

Finishing off the pudding, you glance out of the window. The sky is cloudier than it was before, the trees shaking slightly from the wind that blows, but it's not the day itself that matters. It's this environment, which is calm and pleasing and far away from the hustle of the world. You realize you will miss this once you have to go home.

"I will miss it," he says. "I will miss you."

He gets up from the chair, so fast that the chair scrapes loudly against the floor. Startled, you get up too, and he walks over to you, his face determined. You want to ask him what he's talking about, but you don't have time for it; he grasps your face with both hands, staring you into your eyes before kissing you hard.

Grunting into his mouth, you grasp his shoulders. He is pushy, nipping at your lips until they fall open, guiding you towards the nearest wall. You groan, unsure whether to go along with the kiss or resist it, but he makes the decision for you, kissing you until you can't help but respond, your hands sliding up to his neck and further up into his hair.

"What is this?" you ask him, breathy, while he leans down to kiss your neck, nibble it. "I'm right here, I'm-"

Your back thuds against the wall, cutting off your sentence. He drops his hand down to your groin, rubbing you through your joggers, his teeth pressing down into your neck. You cry out in surprise, grasping his shoulders again so you can-

"Easy."

As your fingers loosen their grip, he shoves his knee between your thighs, moving his hand underneath your joggers. You shake your head, grasping-

"Easy."

His thigh solid between your own, he brushes his fingers over your cunt, thumb running briefly along the length of your cock. Panting, you grasp-

"Easy, please."

You grasp-

"Easy, easy, easy."

You moan, shivering against his touch as your tense hands relax. He licks at the mark he has left on your neck, sucks it a little, while pushing a fingertip to your hole.

The finger slides in and you twitch around it, spreading your legs a little more apart. Eyes half-open, you stare at the man you love, feeling overwhelmed by his attention. You hook your arm around his neck, dropping your free hand down to his crotch.

"It's a bit sudden," you say. His cock is hard within his trousers, poking eagerly against your palm. You give it a squeeze and he lets out a soft moan, pushing a second finger inside you.

"It has to be," he replies, thrusting his fingers within you. "We're running out of time."

He kisses you before you have time for questions, rocking his hips so that his clothed groin rubs against your hand. He thrusts his fingers in and out of you, until they move easily within the slick passage of your cunt, and you try to keep up with him, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers so you can take his cock out. Your cheeks are pressed together, both of you breathing heavily.

"We're not in a hurry," you argue. "We have all the time we need, Martin. The rest of our lives."

You can feel it as his jaw clenches, his teeth gnashing together. Still, he is careful as he pulls his fingers out of you, shoving your joggers down as quickly as he can.

"That's true," he whispers. "Nothing but the rest of our lives."

He grabs you by the waist, turning you around so you're facing the wall. You know what to do, setting your feet apart and bending over just a tad, resting your arms against the wall. His cock, now bare, touches against your folds, damp from the tip.

"Only time now," he says, and thrusts inside you.

He has been frantic, but now he seems to take his time, moving slowly within you as he places his hand over your own on the wall, entangling your fingers together. You allow it, gripping his fingers as he starts to fuck you, closing your eyes.

It's perfect.

He leans in to kiss your neck again, using his teeth. You cry out as he bites a spot that is already red from his teeth earlier, and you try to reach behind you so you can grab him by the head. He takes your wrist into his hand instead and pushes it back against the wall, thrusting hard into you.

"I will make sure you will remember me forever," he declares.

He quickens his pace, his hips smacking briskly against your arse. He brings his head down, pressing your cheeks together, close enough that the corners of your mouths are touching. You can feel his breath, the wetness of his lips.

"How could I not?" you ask.

Shivering against you, he grips your wrist and your fingers hard as he slams into you. You turn your face towards his, waiting until he does the same before kissing him. Your mouths are locked together as he starts to come, pulsing hotly inside you.

You clench around him, your own orgasm not far away. He is still thrusting a little, keeping his softening cock inside you as he lets go of your wrist, taking his hand down to your groin.

"I have something to show you," he whispers. "But let me have this first."

You don't understand his urgency, his despair, but you choose not to question it, keeping your eyes closed as he starts to rub you towards your peak. You can feel him slipping out of you, hear him curse a bit at that.

"Let me have all of you."

Your spine tingling, you cry out and obey.

*

It doesn't take you or him long to dress up again before he leads you back to your seat by the table, his hands on your shoulders.

"Basira sent us some statements," he says. "I selected one for you to read. I think you will like it better than most of the things you get."

You snort. "Somehow I doubt that."

"Trust me." He kisses you on the cheek. "I can't wait to see your face."

You smile, watching after him as he walks over to where your mail is kept. As you sit there by the table, you end up looking at the candle there, which has almost burned out. But now that it has gone darker outside, the flame seems to be brighter.

That helps you notice that there is a pattern on the candle that you hadn't noticed before. It's barely visible at this point, making it hard to tell what it is, but for some reason, it reminds you of your lighter.

You go pale, starting to rise up from the chair.

"Easy," the man you love says, setting a piece of paper on the table. His hand finds your shoulder again, giving it a squeeze. "For you."

You shake your head, but it doesn't ease the pounding of your heart.

"Easy, Jon," he murmurs. "We are almost there."

Body relaxing, you take the statement into your hands and start to read it.

Too soon, you understand everything.