Syverson Fanfiction - Tumblr Posts

Even If You Don't Mean It - Part Three

Summary: Your reunion with Sy is just as passionate you hoped it would be, but things start to become strained when you suspect he isn't being honest with you.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 10.5k

Warnings:

Series Warnings:

Smut including oral sex (m and f receiving), hand job, fingering (f receiving), p in v sex, dirty talking, implied masturbation (m and f), showering together, slight praise kink, anal play (f receiving), mentions of PTSD, descriptions of PTSD, mentions of war, angst, fluff.

Part Three Warnings:

Smut including fingering (f receiving), p in v sex, intimate touching, showering together, dirty talk, slight praise kink, discussion of PTSD, insomnia, illusions to war, angst, fluff.

Authors Note:

Thanks once again to my wonderful friends and beta readers @amberangel112 and @henryobsessed . Your constant support and friendship means the world to me.

A massive thank you to @radiantheartbeat for editing you have truely lifted my writing and inspired me to be better. It has meant the world to me and I have enjoyed getting to know you through the process as well. Everyone, if you want some more great Henry content, please check out her blog here . You won’t be disappointed.

Divider made by me.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part 2 Part 4 (Coming Soon)

Sighing contentedly, you put your hand on his still panting chest and run your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. It curls slightly around your fingers, and you like the way your feminine hand looks against his masculine chest. Slowly, his breathing evens out and he takes long, deep breaths.

“I could stay like this all day,” Sy says, wistfully, and you hum to let him know you agree, “But, I should take a shower.”

“I don’t mind if you’re a little sweaty,” You kiss the still humid skin on his neck to prove it, “Your cuddles are nice.”

Sy’s head is tucked deep into your neck, his breath is hot and harsh against your cooling skin. He’s mostly still, but occasionally his lips sweep over your skin so lightly that it could barely be called a kiss. When you hear him exhale with a moan, you quickly realise that he’s not actually kissing you; he’s yawning.

Sitting up straight, you catch him in the act, with his bearded mouth wide and his nose all scrunched up, looking as tired as a Grizzly bear ready to hibernate.

“You’re tired!” you utter, as your fingers dive into his beard. You still can’t tell if you like his facial hair. His ruggedness, an obvious display of machismo, is definitely a turn on and it feels so much better than you thought it would. On the other hand, you miss seeing his perfectly sculpted jaw and his dimpled chin. The beard makes him look older too, and no one except old men wear beards anymore. Maybe he’d look good with a goatee, lots of guys were wearing those recently.

“No, just getting used to the time zones again, that’s all.”

“What time did you get to bed last night?”

“Baby, I’m fine,” Sy insists.

You consider arguing the point. You know how little sleep you got last night, and you assume Sy would have experienced something similar, not to mention the travelling he’d done all day. His eyes are a little red around the edges and he’s blinking a lot. He reminds you of a kid who’s trying to stay up to see Santa Clause, barely able to keep their eyes open, but insistent on not missing out.

“You want to take that shower now, Chewbacca?” you ask, giving Sy’s beard a little tug. You climb off his tree trunk like thighs and collect your discarded clothes.

Sy stands, following you, and grabs hold of your hand with a raised eyebrow, “You don’t like it?” he asks, bringing your hand to his chin and rubbing his whiskers on your palm. It tickles and you squirm. Smirking, he adds, “I didn’t hear any complaints earlier.”

Playfully you jerk your hand away with a giggle, “I’m not used to it is all. Never even kissed a guy with a beard before, let alone…” your face feels like it's on fire and your ears burn, “the other thing.” Now that your blood has cooled, so has your confidence.

Sy keeps smirking as he gives you an amused look and bends to pick up his clothes, “Never been eaten out by a guy with a beard?”

Oh God! A jolt of energy tingles your spine and your core clenches. Shit, just hearing him say those words gets you worked up again.

You shake your head, “Never,” you say softly.

“You liked it though, didn't ya?” Sy’s smirk turns to a full grin, and his cheeks crease into dimples just above his beard. His eyes no longer seem tired, instead they shine with roguish intent, “It’s alright, baby, you can tell me. It’ll be our li’l secret.”

You bite your lip. He is such a flirt, how had he hidden this side of himself all this time? Turning away from him you make your way down the short hallway.

“Of course I liked it,” you say a little shyly, glancing behind you to make sure Sy is following, “You know I did! You just want to hear me say it, don’t you?”

“I ain’t gonna deny that, I like hearin’ you say you enjoyed it. ‘Specially in that voice of yours,” Sy’s voice grows raspy, and his register lowers as he speaks. You feel his body behind yours as he wraps an arm around your belly and growls into your ear, “Listenin’ to you moan my name— shit, you could make a man lose his damn mind, ya know that Sugar?”

Lose his mind? If that’s the case, you aren’t going to be far behind. One turn of phrase and he can melt you. It’s been a long time since a man has had that effect on you and the only thing that stops you from being embarrassed is that it’s obvious you have a similar effect on him.

“Give me your clothes,” you say with a warble in your voice.

Sy passes you his bundle and taking his bag from the hallway, you open the door to your room.

“My bedroom,” you tell Sy. His lips seem to grow tight into a line as he sticks his head through the door while you drop his clothes and his bag on the bed.

“You ok?” you ask him as you reenter the hall.

Sy eyes you up and down as he draws his lower lip into his mouth. Whatever the look he had on his face a few seconds ago was gone, replaced by a lusty grin.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he says lewdly.

Fuck. It didn't cross your mind that without the bundle of clothes to hide behind you are completely naked. You have a sudden urge to cover up despite it being completely ridiculous, he’s already seen you naked and is about to get into the shower with you. But context is everything, and casually standing naked in the hallway feels different and so much more bold.

Fighting the urge to run and hide, you try to draw out the confidence you had not fifteen minutes earlier, and you stand still for a moment to let him look. He looks at you for a long time, his eyes slowly sliding down your body, as he takes a small step closer to you. For the first time you take in his whole naked form; he is magnificent. To you, he is masculinity manifest; the powerful muscular frame, the sheer size of him, and the hair covering his body that seems to be so perfectly manicured. You can’t stop your gaze from going lower to the thicket of curly hair and the leviathan that lay there, unhidden.

Imitating Sy’s reaction, you bite your lip at the sight of him. He’s not soft, but not entirely hard and he points to the floor. His length isn't much different from when he is hard, but he gets so much thicker. You know, when that moment arrives, he’s going to fill you up and stretch you wide. You think about grabbing his hand and taking him to your bedroom instead of the bathroom, but Sy takes another step closer and rests his hand on your cheek.

“I thought you were shy or something,” Sy says, moving his thumb slowly over the apple of your cheek. You must have looked confused because he continues, “You were reluctant that one time we talked about sex on the phone. I thought you were nervous about it, or really inexperienced.”

“Are you… disappointed?”

“Are you crazy?” Sy says quickly, and you can’t help but laugh. “Don’t you know…”

Sy stops mid sentence, his brows draw low, and his tongue works over his teeth as he begins to feel you. His palms rub over your body, occasionally stopping at random spots, squeezing you there, sometimes getting a handful of flesh, sometimes bone. His eyes follow the path of his hands until he sighs with a smile and looks at you.

“You are so fuckin’ gorgeous,” Sy shakes his head, “Remember the night we met?”

You nod, “At The Baron.”

“Yeah. The second you walked in, the whole bar got quiet. It made me—”

Sy’s jaw juts out, and he holds it there a moment as he seems to stare at nothing over your shoulder. You cover his hand with yours and his face relaxes a little as you slide your hand over his forearm. He smiles a little at you, but his eyes still seem distant.

“I remember turnin’ in my chair and watchin’ you, tryin’ to get it straight in my mind what a girl like you would be doin’ in a place like The Baron.”

You laugh and go to the small closet next to the bathroom to pull out a couple of washcloths and a spare towel for Sy.

“Pre-gaming,” you tell him with a grin. He looks surprised and you shrug, “One of my friends is dating the manager, he gives us cheap drinks.”

Sy narrows his eyes, “You ain’t still goin’ there, are you?”

“Sometimes.”

Sy gives you a long, hard look with raised eyebrows, then shakes his head.

“What?”

“It’s a rough bar,” he says, “It ain’t safe.”

You wait for him to tell you not to go there anymore, but he doesn’t, and even though you can tell he wants to, he bites his tongue. There is something reassuring about the way he suggests his displeasure at the thought of you going to that bar, but restrains himself from forbidding your actions. He seems to respect your autonomy and trusts in your ability to make decisions for yourself. These little parts of him that you’re discovering are only serving to increase your attraction to him. You pull on his neck, and give him a quick kiss to let him know you approve.

“Bathroom,” you say, indicating the next door in the hall. Sy points at it and you nod, waiting for him to go in before you follow, using the towels to hide behind, “I met you at The Baron,” you point out, bringing the conversation back to the first night you met as you pass him a washcloth.

Sy grins, his cheeks crease into dimples that peek out from just above his beard. He takes the cloth and draws you into his arms, “And look where we’ve ended up.”

“As if this isn’t where you wanted to be that night.”

“Course it is,” Sy’s voice drops low again, becoming softer and deeper, “Same with every other man there that night. You were otherworldly in that bar, Sugar. As out of place as a thoroughbred ploughin’ a field,'' Sy breathes in a little shakily, as if he’s reliving the moment. His voice is husky when he speaks again, “Then you smiled in my direction… and it was like a punch that knocked the wind out of me. You were so beautiful, baby, I couldn’t breathe.”

Goosebumps break over you as your body warms and your skin stays cool. Had he really thought that? He had never indicated he felt that way before. You think back to your date. He hadn’t been anything like he was today. Yeah, his kisses had been amazing, full of passion and desire but he’d also been very respectful. He barely touched you anywhere below your shoulders, his hands only occasionally wandering to your hip.

“So,” you lick your lips, unsure if you should ask the question that’s plagued you for over a year, “Why didn’t you ask me out again?”

Sy doesn’t answer for a while, not because he’s ignoring you or trying to come up with a lie, he just seems to be thinking, wanting to make sure his words are appropriate. It strikes you suddenly that this must be how he looked when he was quiet on the phone.

“I was given my orders a couple of days after I took you out.”

That isn’t a surprise. You thought he would have been given more notice than the week before, which is when he told you he was leaving.

“I thought,” he smiles briefly, “incorrectly, that if I didn’t see you again, it’d be easier on me. I couldn’t ask ya to wait for me, not after just one date. And a girl like you wasn't gonna be single for long. I figured by the time I got back, you’d be seein’ someone else. Thought if I kept my distance and didn’t start anythin’…”

Sy steps back and runs a hand over his short hair, as if he is signalling he was done speaking. You wait a while to make sure before you speak.

“I thought you weren’t interested,” you say.

Sy looks at you shaking his head, “How on God’s green earth did ya get that idea?”

You shrug, “Look at it from my perspective. You hit on me at the bar. You get my number. You call me the next day, and take me out the following weekend. We had a great time, then we came back here and…well…”

Sy grins, “I thought that was makin’ it clear I was interested.”

“It was,” you say slowly before sighing heavily, “Then you didn't ask me out again, and that pretty much told me I wasn't going to hear from you anymore.”

Sy takes your hand in his, lifting it palm up and kissing it. His nose hovers above your wrist and he inhales deeply through his nose. He growls playfully and nips at your fingers, “God dammit, woman. This perfume of yours, what’s it called? I’m gonna buy you a lifetime supply so you never stop wearin’ it.”

Though he’s obviously trying to distract you, he’s so skillfully charming you can’t help but giggle. “Quit it, Sy!”

Sy gives your finger one more bite before he stops, but he keeps hold of your hand. He’s smiling widely, as broadly and mischievously as a school boy. He’s so attractive, but when he smiles like that, he’s dazzling; it's so stunning you forget what you were talking about before he became playful. Dazed, you turn on the shower one handed, unwilling to let him go and unsure if he would release you anyway.

Despite your small apartment, your shower is spacious, obviously designed for couples and it accommodates you both with ease. However, it turns out you don’t need much space; Sy locks his arms around you, guiding your bodies so each of you has a shoulder under the spray. You lay your heads against each other and for a while that's how you stay, wrapped in each other’s arms, the embrace as warm as the sultry, soothing water.

When you lift your head, Sy has a small smile on his lips and he leans into you, nudging his nose against yours as his beard caresses your skin. Then his lips stroke yours softly and your eyes slide closed as the sensation of his kiss makes you float away.

“I fucked up, baby. I never meant for you to feel like I'd lost interest in you,” he says. It takes you a minute to remember what he is apologising for, “I thought walkin’ away early would keep you from gettin’ hurt too.”

“So why did you call a couple of months later then?”

Sy laughed ruefully, “’Cause I’m an asshole.”

You shake your head at him with a soft chuckle.

“It’s true. I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. I thought about ya so much that I couldn’t remember what I used to think about before I met you.”

If that wasn't one of the most romantic things you had ever heard, and he just said it like it was no big deal. There wasn't any emphasis or stressing the point that he was trying to be romantic. He said it like it was a fact, which only increased its impact. You’re stunned into silence, not quite understanding how Sy can be so nonchalant when he makes these little declarations of his affection for you.

Sy doesn’t seem to be expecting a reply and he guides your head to his shoulder again. With a deep, satisfied sigh, you lean into him and wrap your arms around his waist. Slowly he sways with you, a gentle rock back and forth that is just shy of dancing.

“This is nice,” you whisper, making your voice just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the spray echoing through the room. Sy hums in agreement.

“Can I wash you, Sy?” you boldly ask.

Sy has said that you’re responsive, but he really should see himself right now. His lips part as he breathes harder, and a soft flush blooms over his cheeks. Most telling though, is the feel of his cock as it jerks against your belly. He nods slowly in response.

Lathering the washcloth, you start with Sy’s chest, the dark, coarse hair suds up quickly as you sweep the cloth over his body. You wash his neck, his wide, sloped shoulders, and his thick, brawny arms, and then his taut stomach. At first, he is stiff and still, moving only his eyes as he tracks the path of your hand. Then he starts to breathe, deeper and longer, and moves his body beneath your touch, helping you by turning slightly and lifting his arms.

You gesture for him to face the other way and you wash his back, laying a chaste kiss against his spine. He’s smooth to touch and warm against your lips as you kiss between his shoulder blades. He leans into the cloth as you scrub a little harder, and makes a growl of pleasure. His skin is pale on his chest and back while his neck and arms are deeply tanned. You inventory the small scars and his perfect imperfections, trying to commit them to memory. Once again, you’re struck by how phenomenal his body is, how hulking and bullish. He looks so powerful, strong, raw, and so fucking masculine. Though you love the tender way he touches you, part of you wants to know what it would be like to feel his strength, to feel helpless in his arms, to be completely and utterly overpowered by him.

“Hmm, that's good,” Sy hums.

“Yeah?” Pressing your body against his back, you bring the soapy cloth over his ass and thighs.

“Yeah,” Sy confirms throatily.

Wrapping your arms around him, you reach between his legs, “And this?”

“Fuck!” Throwing an arm out against the tiled wall, his hips roll as your cloth covered hand moves over his now fully erect cock. You feel his hand cover yours and he guides your movements over his sex in quick, gestures.

Sy turns around swiftly and takes the cloth from your hand. You don’t understand, he seemed to be enjoying your touch and he was as hard as steel in your hand, but he pulled himself away.

Your confusion is short lived as he lathers the other washcloth and grins at you wolfishly, “My turn.”

Sy waits for you to nod before he turns you, laying his hand flat over your belly he gathers you close as he starts to wash. He leans his chin on your shoulder and watches as his hand moves over your breasts, slippery, but pleasantly rough, and your nipples harden in seconds under his languidly sensual touch.

He kisses your neck, softly and gently, dulcetly humming into your skin. Sy is so hard where he presses into you, just the feel of him makes your core throb maddingly. You ache to move and a near desperation fills you to do so, and soon you find yourself rubbing your body against his cock trying to entice him for more.

“Shh, baby. Easy,” Sy drawls in your ear.

Holy fuck. His voice is so gravelly, so coarse; and the commanding way he stills your movements by placing a firm hand on your hip, it makes you feel boneless, and your knees almost give way. Your fingers clutch at his forearm, gripping tight to hold yourself upright.

“I’m not fuckin’ you in here,” Sy tells you, then chuckles softly as you whine, “We’re just gonna wash.”

At first he is true to his word as he moves the cloth over your arms, shoulders and breasts again. Then he drops all pretence and the washcloth, which makes a splash as it falls to the tiles. His soapy hands are all over you, gliding over your skin as he teases your neck with soft brushes of his lips, his warm breath, and the constant rumble in his throat. Using his foot, he edges your feet apart and washes you gently between your legs. It’s arousing and erotic. Your body burns, but strangely your eyelids grow heavy and you lay your head against Sy’s shoulder. He hums and presses a tender kiss against your temple.

“Good girl,” Sy murmurs into your ear, “Hmm, you’re so soft.”

“You keep saying that.”

“‘Cause I keep thinkin’ it,” Sy says, “Your skin is soft, your lips are soft, your mouth is soft, and dear God your pussy,” he groans, pressing his swollen cock against you, “It's like smooth, wet, hot silk.”

You close your eyes and let your arms fall lazily at your sides, opening your body up completely for Sy, silently inviting him to take his fill. You’re well and truly clean, there’s no soap left but Sy keeps touching you, his hands moving over you with the same easy confidence he’d had earlier. You think he’s going to forget what he said about fucking you as his fingers graze teasingly over your now slick and swollen pussy.

Instead he sighs and wraps his arms around yours, effectively trapping you beneath his arms as his hands cover your breasts. He doesn’t caress you or squeeze you, he just seems content in holding you. Slowly the blazing heat he built up in you reduces to a manageable smoulder. He kisses your neck a few more times, short chaste brushes of his lips before he sighs again.

“We should get out,” Sy grumbles with obvious regret.

You don’t want to get out either, but you don’t stop him as he leaves the shower while you shut off the water. When you turn around he's holding your towel and as you step out of the cubicle he lifts it over your head and places it around your shoulders. He hums and kisses your forehead before wrapping his own towel around his waist.

“Thank you,” you say.

Sy smiles in acknowledgement and follows you to the bedroom. He ogles you as you dry off, his cock is still stiff and you pretend not to notice. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him too. More than seeing him naked, watching him towel off is strangely erotic and intimate.

A sudden longing fills you as you realise that this piece of domesticity could become normal if this thing between you and Sy can last. This yearning, for him to be with you day and night, and for him to be at home with you, it feels like he’s holding your heart on a string and each moment you’re together he tugs you closer and closer.

“Which side do you want to sleep on?” you ask, pulling on your robe. You don’t bother with underwear because you hope you won’t stay dressed long enough to need them. Sy has put on a pair of track pants with a wife beater and he looks at your bed irritably as he gnaws on his bottom lip.

“Huh?” Sy looks at you, his eyes a little wild as they dart around the room then back to the bed. He rubs a hand over his short hair, “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

Your heart sinks. What the hell happened in the space of a few minutes? “Why not?” you ask tersely.

“Bed’s too small.” His voice is cold and distant.

Scrunching your face up, you look at your bed. It doesn’t look too small to you. Sure, Sy is a big guy, but you had also figured there would be quite a bit of snuggling, and you certainly don’t need a lot of room for that. Besides, aren’t army beds small?

“It’s a queen,” you tell Sy, trying to refute his argument.

He grunts as you come closer, “It’s too soft,” he mumbles and you can barely hear him.

“Sy, if you don't want to spend the night with me, you don't have to make up excuses,” Although you try to bite back your agitation, it carries in your voice and Sy picks it up easily.

“That’s fucking bullshit, Sugar, and you know it,” Sy barks, his harsh tone reflecting your annoyance. He’s never spoken to you like that before and it makes you take a step back. His eyes widen as he realises how he sounded and he tempers his expression, “Fuck, baby, I’m sorry. I…” he cuts himself off, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Something is wrong. He was allusive earlier when you had asked if he was spending the night, and you recalled that he had a similar attitude on the phone when you talked about sleeping together. At the time, you had thought it was because he wasn’t sure how far you were willing to go with him and he hadn’t wanted to pressure you, but now it all seemed suspect. Surely, he knew that you wanted to have sex at some point tonight, especially if you slept in the same bed; there was far too much sexual tension between you for it not to happen.

“I do wanna stay with you,” Sy says, drawing you into an embrace, “You gotta know I want nothing more in this world than to wake up with you in my arms.”

“Then why are you making such a big issue out of it?”

“It’s nothin’, baby… I’m just…” Sy grins at you, “I’m hungry.”

You aren't sure if you believe him. The smile on his face doesn't quite reach his eyes and it leaves you feeling on edge. There's something he’s not telling you, and the fact that he isn’t being open with you makes you wonder if he’s ever been honest with you at all. You return his smile with a disingenuous one of your own while your mind furiously tries to decide if you should call him out on the suspected insincerity.

You let it go, hoping that you’re just reading too much into things, “Come on then. I’ll cook you dinner.”

In the kitchen, you give Sy a beer and tell him to have a seat while you prepare dinner. He seems more relaxed now as he sits at the island bench watching you with a more genuine half-smile as you gather your utensils. Maybe he really isn't hiding anything. Shaking off your doubts, you concentrate on preparing the meal.

“We could order in if ya want,” Sy says, “I do owe you a few dinners.”

“When was the last time you had a home cooked meal with fresh food?”

“It’s been a while,” Sy admits.

“So, let me cook for you. I cook for myself, it’s not that much more to cook for you too.”

“Okay,” Sy agrees, “The offer is there though, maybe tomorrow night?”

His words make you pause momentarily as you reach for a head of lettuce in the crisper drawer. After the conversation you just had in the bedroom, his plan to see you again tomorrow seems odd. If he doesn’t want to spend the night, but still wants to see you tomorrow, why not just stay?

You continue gathering the ingredients, trying to push away the nagging uncertainties. It isn't much, just a couple of steaks and a salad but Sy’s eyes grow wide at the sight of the two beef ribeyes on the plate. You silently congratulate yourself as he stares at the food and licks his lips. Then you stifle a giggle as you realise that, sometimes, he really does look at you like you’re something to eat. Maybe that should upset you, but it doesn’t. Maybe there isn’t anything to worry about, maybe he just likes sleeping alone.

There are so many unanswered questions in your mind, you’re relieved when they dissipate as you immerse yourself in the meal prep. Sy seems content to watch you, barely making any conversation until you ask him how he likes his steak cooked.

“Medium rare,” he says, “Cooked on the outside, a little bloody in the centre.”

“You’re a man after my own heart,” you agree.

“Yes ma’am,” Sy says with a roguish grin, “Among other things,” He winks at you, well he tries to, but it’s more of an exaggerated blink.

Pressing your lips together, you hold in your laugh, feeling your face heat with the effort.

“You laughin’ at me, darlin’?” Sy asks, playfully.

You shake your head still avoiding looking at him, but he moves his head into your line of sight still wearing the same puckish smirk and you release your laughter with an embarrassing bark.

The moment of light-heartedness breaks the tension between you and you both begin to talk about what foods you like, the conversation flowing as easily as it had on the phone. You feel relieved, in the back of your mind there has always been the worry that perhaps your relationship wouldn’t be the same in person; or worse, that once sex was introduced, the friendly ease you had with each other would disappear. Of course, you are attracted to Sy and it's what made you agree to a date with him all those months ago, but it was your conversations that convinced you there was the potential for more.

Watching Sy eat was a joy unto itself. You had only ever cooked for a couple of men and none of them seemed to eat with the level of gusto he was exhibiting now. You marvel at how he could be so quick but also maintain his manners. It was like he inhaled the food rather than chewed it and he sat back nursing a second beer while you finished eating.

“Want to watch the movie?’ you ask when you are done. You look at Sy and see him staring at you, or rather through you, “Sy?”

“Sorry,” Sy says with a start. He sniffs and seems to give himself a shake, “I was… somewhere else there for a minute.”

“You alright?” you ask and it suddenly dawns on you what his problem could be. The phone calls when he was too quiet, the worry about sleeping, how distracted and far away he looked sometimes, he reminded you a little of your father, “We don't have to, we could watch something else, or we could just talk?” Please talk to me Sy, you want to add, but bite your tongue. If his problem is what you think it is, he’s probably not going to discuss it easily.

“We’ve talked a lot,” Sy says, “About everythin’, and nothin’,” he puts a hand on your face and his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek, “How is it we still find things to say?”

You shrug, “There’s still so much that I don't know about you.”

“You know me, Sugar. You may not know all the details, but you know me.”

“Details are important, Sy.”

He grunts and drops his hand. He leans back in his chair and crosses his legs, resting an ankle on his knee, “What kind of details are you lookin’ for?”

“I don’t know,” you say slowly. His guard has gone up again, even his eyes are narrowed and full of suspicion.

He nods and frowns slightly, looking at you with raised brows, “Are you talkin’ about my tour?”

Jesus, he’s blunt. You try not to shift uncomfortably under the weight of his stare. He does not look impressed, “I mean if something’s weighing on your mind… if something’s bothering you…” You trail off as his eyes darken.

“You don’t wanna know about that shit,” He shakes his head and folds his arms across his broad chest, “I thought you’d understand that… you more than most.”

“Because of my Dad and brother?”

“Yeah. How much do you know about what goes on over there?”

Your throat feels dry and you reach for your wine, gulping it down hard and filling the glass again, “More than you’d think.”

Sy looks surprised, “Your Dad told you stories?”

“He didn’t have to tell us. He used to scream during the night,” you say, keeping your tone low, “One time he actually got me and my brother out of bed and had us in the car before Mom found us and redirected him back to bed. He was asleep with his eyes open. He’d even responded to questions.”

Sy grunts but makes no comment.

“I didn’t know at the time what was going on, but… I know now,” You inhale sharply; just revisiting that night in your mind feels like reliving the trauma, and you can’t imagine how the men in your life lived through the real thing, night after night, “I’m not telling you about my father because I understand what you might be going through, because I don’t, and I know that. I only know that he had to talk about it.”

Sy’s chest starts to heave, and he looks away from you, his jaw juts forward as he runs his tongue over his teeth. His arms drop by his side, and his ankle falls off his knee. You bring your chair closer to his, your knees almost touching. You lay your hand out palm up on his thigh. He stares at it so long that you think about taking it back, but then he sighs and takes it in his.

“What do ya want me to say, Sugar?” He asks, folding both of his hands around yours. They’re so big that just the tips of your fingers peek through.

You move to the edge of the chair to be closer to him. You want to take him in your arms, to hold him and console him. Not just for this moment, but for all of the other times you had heard the need for comfort in his voice and you were unable to provide it.

“Whatever you want to. Just know that you don’t have to hide from me Sy, I don’t scare easily.”

“Come here, baby,” Sy tugs on your hand and you stand, intending to sit on his lap like he seems to like. Instead he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his face into your belly. Immediately, that deep feminine instinct to soothe kicks in and you run your fingers over his soft, short hair.

“Shhh,” the gentle shushing noises seem to also come from that same primal urge. As you stroke his head and tenderly scratch at his neck and back, you wonder if this is another thing Sy thought about: how it would feel to have his woman hold him like this. His woman. Even if you think of yourself with that title, it's never been addressed. Like so much with Sy, you talk and talk, but so much gets left unsaid.

“I can’t sleep,” Sy says, his voice muffled, and you stop breathing, not wanting to do anything to stop his admission, “I haven't slept more than a couple of hours a night for a few weeks now,” He’s quiet for a second or two and you lean back trying to get a look at his face, but he stops you, “I can’t… please… just stay like this for me, baby.”

“Ok, Noah,” you lull.

Sy squeezes you gently, “You’ve never said my name before,” he murmurs.

“You don’t like it?”

“I do like it,” he says, his voice still a little smothered by your robe. Then he takes a deep breath and speaks clearly, “Sometimes I wake in a sweat, kicking at the blankets cause I feel… trapped, I guess.”

“That's why you don’t want to spend the night with me?”

“I haven’t slept with a woman for a long time,” he confesses, and you feel him tense before adding, “I mean I’ve had—”

“I know what you mean,” you interrupt, surprising yourself at how quickly the seed of jealousy bore fruit in your mind.

“I don’t know if I’d lash out at ya, if I’d— I don’t want to hurt you,” Sy finally raises his head and meets your eyes. Your heart skips and you’re barely able to suppress a gasp. He looks awful, and so tired; his eyes are bleary and wild and rimmed with red, “I want to spend the night with you,” he says as he stands up, keeping his arms firmly around you, “God damn, I want to so badly,” He drops his head until your noses meet, “I wanna go to bed with you every night and wake up with your pretty li’l head on my chest every mornin’.”

You smile at the thought, “I want that too, Noah.”

“I just don’t know if I can,” Sy says in a pained voice.

“Has this happened before? The nightmares, I mean?”

“Occasionally,” Sy admits, “But not like this.” He looks above your head and you worry that you’re going to lose his focus, so you hold his face between your hands and direct his gaze back to yours.

“Can we try?” you ask.

Sy frowns, and it seems like time slows as he assesses you before letting out a long breath, “Are you sure?”

“I told you Sy,” you smile a little, “You’re gonna have to do better than that to scare me off.”

Sy chuffs, a small smile appears on his face too, “Ok baby.”

His eyes drop and you sense a swift change in his mood as he sucks in a breath through his teeth. Puzzled, you follow his gaze and notice that your robe has fallen open, revealing the centre of your chest and inner curve of your breasts, down to your navel.

“Sorry,” you mumble, as you take a couple of steps back and fumbling to close the garment.

“Stop.” His words are a command and you drop your hands almost immediately.

Sy closes the short distance between you, stopping before your bodies can meet. His chest starts to expand a little faster, the air whistles through his teeth with each panting breath. With slightly shaky hands, he pulls at the belt and the knot falls apart. He looks at you briefly with narrowed eyes and a slightly open mouth before he looks down at his hands. He grips the lapels and parts the robe at your waist, opening it wide.

The tension slowly leaves his face as he takes you in and his tongue glides over his bottom lip before he draws it into his mouth and bites it. His eyes are everywhere, staring at you greedily, as though he were seeing you for the first time. There’s an open yearning to his wide eyed gaze, a vulnerability he doesn’t try to disguise. He raises his hand to your waist but stops and meets your eyes before he makes contact with you. You don’t dare move, because you fear if he keeps looking at you like he is, your legs won’t be able to hold you.

Heat.

That’s the only word you can think of as his eyes seem to want to burn through yours, and all you want in the world is to go up in flames. He doesn’t drop his gaze as he puts his hands on your waist. He’s gentle, the pads of his fingers making contact first, leading with a tender caress.

Sy hums softly as he slides the robe off of your shoulders before wrapping an arm around you. The energy between you feels like electricity arcing; he draws you in closer until your chest meets his and a jolting spark shoots down your spine, straight to your clit.

Barely suppressing a moan, you put your arms around his shoulders and bring his head into your neck. You can hear and feel his muffled groan as he nuzzles into you and tightens his arms.

“I’m gonna take you to bed,” he rasps as his lips move gently over your skin, “God, I want you. I want all of you.”

“Then take me, Sy,” you whisper because you couldn’t speak any louder if you wanted to, you’re so breathless.

Sy doesn’t wait for a second invitation, keeping an arm around you he walks you to your room. He shepherds you backwards until your legs hit the bed and you let yourself fall onto the mattress with a giggle. Sy pulls his tank off as he climbs onto the bed, smiling as he sits with his back against the headboard and pulls you over him, your legs on either side of his.

The sun is starting to set and brilliant red and orange light seeps through your curtains and hits Sy’s face just right. You stare at him, struck by how handsome he is. His cheekbones are so perfectly highlighted by his beard, and although his skin is marred by scars, it only adds to his rugged perfection.

“What are you lookin’ at, baby?” he asks slowly, drawing your attention to his lips that are stretched into a gentle smile. Now they are perfect. Big enough to suit his face, and so surprisingly soft. Without conscious thought, your thumb sweeps gently over them and he chases it with his teeth, giving you a delicate nip and a kiss.

“Just you,” You keep your voice low too, like any loud noise would break the spell of this moment, “You’re so good looking.”

Sy holds your hand to his lips and kisses your palm, “I could say the same about you, but it wouldn’t do you justice… you’re so much more than ‘good looking’.”

“Sy,” you shake your head, you can feel your cheeks heating, “I–”

He shuts you up with a kiss, lips firm against your mouth. His arms tighten around you and he rolls you over onto your back, “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs emphatically as his hand moves down the side of your body with a tender touch. His hand is hesitant as he sweeps it over your belly, and his voice shakes ever so slightly, “I told you, I’ve never wanted a woman like I want you.”

His fingers trace the curve of your breast, and your nipples tighten as his touch sends a pleasurable shiver down your spine. Sy bites his lip as he watches your reactions.

“I wanna know all the ways I can make you tremble like that. I’m gonna take you every way I know how. I’m gonna make love to you, and I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t breathe. I want you on top of me and under me. I want you on your fuckin’ knees,” he growls, and for a moment you think that’s exactly what he’s going to do. His eyes are wild and hungry, like he’s doing everything he can not to flip you onto your stomach and take you from behind.

Instead he lowers his head to your breasts, taking you into his soft, warm mouth. He peers at you from beneath his brows as he moves to your other breast and his tongue comes out to circle your nipple slowly, his breath cooling the wetness he leaves behind. With a faint moan he draws the tight bud into his mouth, and you gasp as you feel his fingers caressing higher on your inner thigh.

“Open for me baby, let me touch you.”

Your legs part without any thought, it's nearly embarrassing how quickly you obey. But you’re ready for him, so ready, and you want him to know it.

“A little more,” he shifts his weight, giving your legs more room, “That’s it. That’s what I want.”

His fingers keep moving higher, and your thighs quake in anticipation. You drop your head back to the pillow, closing your eyes. God he’s so much, how does he know just what to say, just how to touch you to make you so malleable?

Then he’s on you, his hand is between your legs and the heat of his skin burns your already hot centre.

“Oh God, you’re so wet! So soft and warm,” he moans, burying his head into your chest. Your body surges and your hips move against his palm, “Oh fuck, you’re killin’ me here, baby.”

His teeth sink softly into the flesh of your breast as his finger slips inside you followed swiftly by a second. You hold on to him, gripping his forearm tight, holding him inside you as you rock against his palm, and his mouth moves over your body.

Sy moves behind you, tucking your body in close. Lifting your leg over his and wrapping an arm around your waist, he presses his hardness against your undulating body, grinding and rocking with you. He crushes his mouth against your ear, his beard and lips scratching at your sensitive skin.

“Baby, look at you move, you’re so close ain’t ya? I can feel ya squeezing my fingers. You’re makin’ me so fuckin’ hard.”

You moan, reaching behind you to pull his hips closer to yours. You close your eyes, focussing on the feeling of his fingers, his hot breath on your neck, and his cock rubbing against your ass.

Sy hums, “You like the way my cock feels, don't ya?” Even though you know it's a rhetorical question, you nod emphatically, “Soon as you come, baby, I’m gonna be inside you. God, you’re gonna feel amazing, I’m gonna make it feel so good for you.”

His fingers slide out of your core and press against your clit and your hips buck as you cry out. He growls, the arm around your waist tightens and his teeth sink into your ear. He’s suddenly rough with you, his kiss is full of harsh need, all sucking and biting, and he holds you so tight you can barely breathe. His raw power is so potent, but his touch between your legs is still so gentle where he moves over your clit.

“Sy, I…” you stutter, panting so hard you can’t make the words form.

His arm leaves your waist, fingers sliding up to your cheek to turn your face to his, “Call me Noah, baby,” he kisses you and keeps your face close to his, his voice just a whisper, “I want you to call me Noah.”

You bring your hand to his bearded cheek as you teeter on the edge of your release, “You’re going to make me come, Noah.”

“Good girl. That’s all I want, baby. Do it, come, I want it.”

You close your eyes, so, so close.

“Look at me, I wanna see, I…”

You open your eyes, but barely. You feel intoxicated, so high you could touch the ceiling. Then whatever was holding you up falls away and your body explodes as warmth floods you. Your eyes slide shut again and you can barely hear Sy’s whispered praise.

“That's good, baby. You're so good for me…so beautiful…so fucking perfect,” His kisses move down your neck and across your shoulders as you come back into your body. Still tingling with warmth, your skin feels so sensitive, each brush of his lips stokes the heat in you and you know you must have more of him.

You roll over in his arms and kiss him, letting your hand slide over his head and neck like he enjoys. You thought he’d already be pushing himself into you; he feels so hard and ready. Instead, he moves under your hand like a puppy who wants pats, guiding your touch to where he wants it as he presses his face between your breasts with a groan.

Then, quite suddenly, he pushes you onto your back, rising between your legs until you feel the hardness between his, pressing against your hot center. He’s so heavy above you, but you like it; you want to feel his weight, feel how open you are beneath him as he spreads your legs wide to accommodate his body. He kisses his way back up to your neck, trailing his lips over your throat and jaw.

“Noah,” you murmur, and you squirm beneath him, feeling the length of him slide easily between your slick and swollen slit.

Sy hisses in your ear, then pulls his hips away with a curse.

“Shit, I… do I need a condom?” he asks.

“You’ve been tested, right?” you ask, knowing your brother is tested after every deployment, “And I’m on birth control.”

“Yeah, I have, but I’ll wear one if you want me to.”

“I trust you, Noah,” you tell him sweetly and matter-of-factly.

His brows come together and he looks away, his jaw is hard and you can see the muscles clenching. His chest pumps harder and you feel his already rock-hard cock pulsing against your thigh. He looks at you and lowers himself back down until his weight is on you again, holding his head above yours. His eyes glisten, and you wonder if he is going to cry.

“Are you…”

“Baby, I…” he sighs and leans on his elbows while his fingers stroke your hair, “I’m in so deep with you. You know that right?” Your furrowed brows must have been an answer because he continued, “I’m in so fuckin’ deep, I can barely see the surface.”

Your eyes widen, you’re not stupid, you know what he’s trying to say. Suddenly, your chest becomes tight and tears sting your eyes, “Noah–”

His mouth covers yours, “Don’t say anythin’,” he says into your mouth, “you don't need to, just kiss me.”

And that’s what you do, letting your need for him speak through the hard collision of your lips and the soft insistence of your tongue. Your desire for him is as strong as his is for you. You’re in just as deep as he is and you don’t even try to hide it.

As if of one mind, you each reach a hand between your bodies for his cock. You both let out a short laugh, and instantly you’re nervous again.

“Sorry,” you apologise shily.

Sy shakes his head, “It’s okay. Here,” he takes your hand in his and places it around his length. He moves your hand over him and whispers, “Together.”

You nod and suddenly you’re both serious, eyes locked onto the one another, your breaths coming hard and fast. The silky, soft skin of Sy’s dick slides over your slick folds and your eyes flutter closed with a gasp as his head brushes your clit.

“Look at me baby,” Sy urges and you open your eyes, “Keep lookin’ at me. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

His hand tightens around yours as he guides himself into your core, and you inhale sharply as he slides in, inch by blissful inch. Your eyes widen as you feel the pressure of him sinking into you, and you squeeze his hand as your pussy stretches to welcomely accommodate his girth.

“Oh, fuck,” Sy groans as your bodies meet, lifting your hand off of him and lacing his fingers in yours as he pins your hand against the mattress above your head. He swells within you, filling you, owning you so completely that you don’t know how you ever felt satisfied before him. He kisses your mouth and chin, cheeks and neck, but he still hasn’t moved, his hardness bound within you.

His free hand clutches at your hip like he wants to be deeper than he already is, and his face tightens as he huffs his breaths like a bull, nearly snorting through his flaring nose. Holding his weight on his elbows he moves his free hand to caress your face, he’s so gentle, despite how much he wants you. You feel like he’s holding back, he seems so tense, and you want to tell him to let go and be wild, but— God you want him like this too! His tender touches make your heart skip like the needle jumping on a record. You run your hand up his arm and shoulder and lay it against his fur, watching the billowing of his chest with each panting breath.

“You’re so…” Sy says before slamming his mouth shut and with a low growl, and pressing his lips to yours. His kiss is intense, urgent and needful, with no finesse at all. His lips move roughly over yours, opening them, licking and sinking his teeth into the flesh of your lower lip. Then he moves and it feels like satin gliding over your silken walls. You feel him everywhere, like he’s invaded every cell of your being as his body rolls above yours in a powerful, yet gentle rhythm, so different to the way his lips are moving.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, so… so… fuck! You’re everything, Sugar. You’re everything.”

You kiss him with an intensity to match his, neither of you are holding back now, you need him so desperately.You tug your hand out from beneath his, grabbing at his back, feeling the way his spine rolls and his muscles ripple as he undulates above you. His skin is searingly hot and you pull on his shoulders, wrapping your legs around him, craving a closer proximity to all of that heat, all of that muscle, and all of that raw power.

“More,” you implore, fingers digging into the hard muscle of his ass, “I need more.”

“Like this,” he growls, his voice rumbling like an engine, deep and throaty. He keeps the same easy flow but pushes into you with a hard grunt.

“God, yes,” you moan as your back arches.

Your body catches his new rhythm and you move together, eyes firmly locked on each other, neither of you can look away. How can it be like this? How can it feel this good when it’s never been like this with anyone else. Suddenly, all of those months of waiting, all of the worry and build up, come crashing down over you. Your vision blurs and you can’t blink fast enough to stop the tears from falling.

“Sugar, I…”

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, pulling on his neck until his whole body rests on yours. “Please— please don't stop,” You kiss him hard, begging him with your mouth, demanding more with your hips.

“Shit, baby, I don’t know if I should…” You close your eyes with a shuddering moan, and feel the rough pads of his thumbs wipe at the tears that spill over your temples. Sy groans, and drops his head into your neck, his arms wrap around your back, “It’s okay, you’re good. I'm here, I’ve got you,” he mumbles as his lips gently kiss along the side of your neck.

Sy slides an arm further up your back and cradles the back of your head, while the other lifts your leg, holding it under his arm. Oh God! He moves, pushing so much deeper, and he’s hitting that spot that makes you go wild. Your fingers dig into his neck and back, his skin is slick with sweat and he wipes his face against his arm before he leans over you, pressing his forehead against yours.

You feel the soft pillows of his lips skim over your face, gliding over the planes of your skin as he mumbles your name, so softly you’re not even sure he said it. You open your eyes and you feel him as you’re held by his gaze, you feel his love, his passion, his need. And as he whispers your name again, you feel him so profoundly that it seems as though he has seeped into the marrow of your bones.

You’re close to your peak, and you cry out wordlessly as your body pulls tighter and tighter, “Noah, I’m…” you're so breathless, panting, you can't even say it.

“It's okay baby, let it happen, I want it. Give yourself to me, come on my cock. I wanna feel you, I fuckin’ want it all, give it to me, Sugar,” Sy grunts out his encouragement through hard gritted teeth. His head pushes so hard against yours it almost hurts, but his thumb strokes your cheek softly and his fingers move over your neck.

Your eyes squeeze shut as that welcome and familiar tightening grows in your gut. You know you must be close to shouting, but all you can hear is Sy’s muttered urgings, the slap of your bodies colliding with one another, and the rustle of the pillow beneath your head as Sy pushes you further up the bed with each thrust.

“Christ, look at you, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful, so fuckin’ hot,” Sy whispers before his tongue slides over your parted lips, “Come for me, baby. God, I wanna feel you.”

You kiss him, clumsy and desperate, clutching him closer and tighter, not letting go until you crest your peak and fall into your orgasm. Waves of pleasure make your whole body contract and release, you can feel your core tighten around him, feel him as he keeps fucking you through your climax and the little, shivering aftershocks that ripple through you as he hits that spot again and again.

He doesn't stop, doesn’t slow down, if anything, he’s going harder than before. His arms slide under yours and he grabs your shoulders in his hands using them for leverage. His eyes stay on yours until he can’t hold back anymore and he swears, his lip rising into a snarl before he throws his head back with a deep primal growl. You’re awestruck as his neck fills with tension, rivulets of sweat run down his reddening skin and the muscles tighten, tendons and veins popping as he strains with effort. Your already stretched core is spread wide again and you cry out as you feel him thicken and release into you.

Then he stills, his head drops back to your neck and his hot, panting breath roars in your ear. For a moment, you feel all his weight as he pulls an arm out from behind your back and searches until he finds your hand, slipping his fingers between yours. With a hum you squeeze his hand and using your free arm and both legs you hug him, and Sy chuckles softly.

His laugh makes you grin and his kiss on your neck makes you want to melt for him all over again. “God damn,” he murmurs. You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are closed and a Cheshire grin has spread across his face. You kiss his lips, and his eyes open, his smile widening until a dimple creases his cheek.

“Yeah,” you say, “God damn.”

For a while you both lay there looking at each other while you catch your breath. Sy’s thumb strokes the back of your hand, and you bring it to your lips giving it a lingering kiss.

Sy closes his eyes and kisses your cheek. His slowly softening cock falls from your core as he rolls onto his back and you protest with a whine.

“Don't worry, I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he says, pulling you into the crook of his arm. You smile and rest your head on his shoulder, your fingers are drawn to his chest hair like there's a magnetic pull. Although wet and matted by sweat and friction, it’s still comforting as your fingers comb through the coarse curls and you close your eyes. Sy yawns, and you imagine his eyes have closed too as his fingers lazily dance up and down over your arm.

Not wanting to imagine it, you lift your head and rest your chin on his chest. Sure enough, his eyes are closed, the muscles in his face seem to be at rest and you stay there, transfixed, watching as he seems to flirt with the edge of consciousness. Soon his fingers stop their caress and his hand falls limply over your arm, presumably asleep.

There’s a part of you that is still disbelieving of his presence here, that you’d actually just had sex. You felt like if you fell asleep now, you would awake to find it had all been a dream. You fight the urge to trace the lines of his features: the straight, but bumpy nose, the strong, prominent brows, the high, chiseled cheekbones, and those soft, plush lips. Instead you rest your head back onto his shoulder and watch him slumber peacefully, enjoying your uninterrupted study of him.

With a rumble in the back of his throat, Sy opens his eyes with a start, eyes wild and rolling in his head before they quickly settle on you. He sniffs as he takes a second to get his bearings then rolls onto his side, pulling you in close with an exaggerated grunt and a squeeze.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to doze off,” his voice is husky and deep with the remnants of sex and sleep.

“Would you just admit that you’re tired, Sy?” you say teasingly.

He chuckles. He’s got you so close to him, tucked in so tight, that his chin hits the top of your head when he speaks, “I am tired, baby.”

“C’mon, get under the blankets with me.”

You can feel him swallow against your forehead, “I’d like to shower first,” he says.

You kiss his still damp chest. “I told you, I don’t mind you being a little sweaty.”

“Darlin’, I’ve spent about 12 months without a proper shower. I’m gonna take one every chance I get,” he reveals and you can hear a grin in his voice.

“That's fair. Want me to come too?”

“It's ok, I’ll be quick.”

“What I should have said is, I want to come too.”

The shower is much quicker this time, Sy washes himself so fast that he was almost done by the time you finished fussing and got in. Through the frosted door, you see him wrap a towel around his waist and leave the bathroom, coming back with a toothbrush. Finishing just as he returns, you towel off and join him at the sink, the two of you brushing your teeth together.

You both keep looking at one another through the mirror, smiling at each other. Sy grins and gently bumps your shoulder with his, you shake your head with a silent chuckle then lean over the sink to spit out your excess paste.

As you straighten and lift your gaze, it's as if you’ve had a vision, deja vu. In that moment, it was as if the two of you had done this a million times before. Standing here together, preparing for bed at the end of the day, like it was your normal, natural, routine. With a sudden clarity, you could see it, your future with him became crystalised, set in stone, and you wanted this to be your life forever.