[Mature-18+]
River was shirtless. Which was fine. Totally fine. Except it wasn't. Because he was also smirking like he knew exactly what he was doing to her central nervous system—the sound curling like smoke in the hush between them. His arms opened in mock surrender, but there was something solemn in the gesture, as though he were offering more than his body—offering himself as altar and sacrifice both.
"By all means," he said, voice lilting with mischief, arms spread wide like a smug, half-naked Greek god. "Search me head to toe, Princess...I'm an open book, an encyclopedia"
She rolled her eyes. Or tried to. It was hard when her gaze kept getting magnetically pulled back to his abs. Stupid. Unfair. Deeply sculpted abs.
She stepped into the space between them, the air trembling with heat and hush.
"Stand."
"Oh," he murmured. "Command voice. Noted."
He rose—slowly, obediently—his eyes never leaving hers. There was amusement in them, yes, but beneath it lay hunger, reverence, the ache of anticipation.
"Ready for a thorough examination, sweetheart?"
She reached for his shirt. The fabric slid from his shoulders like water, revealing the sculpted lines of him—sun-warmed skin stretched over muscle, the rise and fall of breath like a tide. He didn't move. Only watched her, as though she were the moon and he the sea. Smirking the whole time. The man had the audacity to flex.
"Find anything yet?" he asked, voice roughened by restraint.
"Unfortunately, yes" she said, "A very big problem"
letting her finger drop off his chest, leaving a cold emptiness of ache within his heart,
"Then, what's the remedy?"
"Hm...let me think"
Her ebony gaze danced in his crayon-blue eyes as she let her floral dress fall—the same dress he'd been itching to tear off her since morning. Lace and silk pooled at her feet while she stood before him, bare but for the hush between them.
"Can this do?"
His smirk vanished. His jaw dropped. His brain short-circuited as his gaze roamed over her like a blessing.
"God," he breathed. "Looks like I found a little cootie after all."
"Take off your pants." She arched a flirtatious brow.
He smiled, slow and wicked. "Impatient, are we?"
"Don't you wish to be treated?"
The pants fell with a turned button, settling on the floor and leaving him in briefs—hard lines, quiet fire.
"Well, Princess?" he asked. "Do I pass?"
Her breath stuck in her throat, eyes stardust-bright, enchanted by him—by the love of her life, the one she could never get enough of.
"The inspection is just beginning."
She stepped closer. Her fingers traced a fine line from his Adam's apple down like a cold river, leaving goosebumps in their wake, skimming over where his heart beat furiously before settling at the elastic band of his boxers. He shuddered—every muscle drawn tight, as though her touch had summoned lightning beneath his skin.
"You're driving me insane," he whispered, leaning toward her warmth, lips almost grazing skin. "I hope you're thorough—because I'm barely holding it together—"
She pushed him before he could finish. The force surprised even him, but the trust he held in her let him fall—sprawled across the bed, breathless and laughing.
"Getting greedy now, aren't you?"
"Greedy implies I ever planned to stop."
"Shush."
"Obedient."
He lay still as she stripped the last of her clothing—slow, deliberate. For once, he bit his tongue and watched her with eyes that said he was seconds away from losing every ounce of control. His breath caught. His hands twitched, aching to touch, to worship—but he held still. For her.
"You're taking my breath away," he whispered.
"Good. I was aiming for respiratory failure."
She caged him in with her arms, and he trembled beneath her—fire and restraint, waiting to be unmade.
"You're gonna kill me," he said hoarsely. "And I'll die happy."
Her hand slid to his waistband. He sucked in a breath, eyes locked on hers—plea and promise both.
"Trying to drive me mad?" he asked. "Because it's working."
"We have ten minutes," she said. "before your little angel comes back asking about cooties."
He laughed, ragged and warm. "Ambitious. I like that about you."
His hands moved—finally—trailing up her thighs like a prayer.
"Clock's ticking, Princess. Stop talking."
She stripped him bare, and he groaned—low, broken, his fingers twisting in bedsheet.
"You know what you're doing."
"Yes. Ruining you."
"Don't you want to touch me?" she asked leaning in, and her fingers tracing over her own shivering form like a damn minx, "Cherish me?"
"I want to do several irresponsible things," he rasped, confessing yet holding with a damn restrain. "But I'll wait."
"Because I asked?" she smiled.
"Because you asked."
She leaned down, lips brushing his ear. "I wanna be yours."
He went still. His breath caught.
"Sweetheart… you already are and that feels like an illegal stuff sometimes"
She brushed her lips to his teasing as if giving a taste of heaven yet, not letting him claim it, or quench his thirst as he arched into her, trembling desperately.
"Damnit, Princess," he whispered, his knuckles white to the point that he can tear of the bedsheet. "How am I supposed to keep my hands off you?"
"then, don't, darling" She lift his constructed hands and gently place it onto her hip,
"Oh," he breathed. "Gladly."
"But access is limited" she giggled.
He gripped her like she was the only thing tethering him to the earth.
"You're testing my patience to the last of the last shreds" he growled. "I want to flip you over."
"Just kidding " she chuckled but then in a low, love-filled eyes, rest her head to his, "...do as you please, love"
And he did.
In a breath, she was beneath him—his body caging hers, eyes dark and burning.
"Say it again," he whispered. "Tell me what you need, sunshine."
"You," she said. "I wanna be yours in every situation...every life and every single goddamn breath"
"Damnit," he breathed. "You're not allowed to say things like that."
No more teasing. No more waiting.
Just heat. Just need.
And the clock? Forgotten.
"Shush," she whispered. "Don't scream."
"I'll try," he murmured. "No promises."
He kissed her—deep and slow, a vow pressed into her mouth. His body moved with reverence, with hunger, with the ache of something sacred. He sank into her with a groan, muffled against her skin.
Every thrust was a promise. Every breath a prayer. Every moan, a pleasure.
He looked down at her, eyes full of something too bright to name, and mouthed the words—
I love you.
Then he crashed his lips into hers, drinking her in- slowly, treasuring.
And in that moment, ten minutes became eternity.
And eternity still would not be enough.
***
The bedroom was still steeped in the hush of aftermath—sheets tangled, skin warm, breath slowing in tandem. River lay curled around her, fingers tracing idle shapes against her bare shoulder, his voice a low murmur against her hair.
"You know…" he began, eyes half-lidded with contentment, "what your mom said about babies earlier…"
She gave a soft, sleepy laugh. "Hm… how they're like devil spawns?"
He chuckled, nuzzling into her hair. "Okay, maybe she didn't exactly call them that. But the way Rio came barreling in like some tiny apocalypse agent?"
He shifted, pulling her closer, voice dipping into something tender. "We'd survive it. Our own little chaos… with your smile and my stubbornness."
She stiffened. Just a little. Barely enough to notice. But of course, River noticed.
He always noticed.
There was a pause. Then, quieter, "I wouldn't mind that."
His hand drifted to her stomach, gentle as a promise when his finger trace slow circles there, "One day… a mini-you yelling at me for eating the last cookie. Or worse—giving me that same look you do when I'm being dumb in class."
He kissed the crown of her head. "Yeah… I'd love that."
She didn't answer. Just buried her face in his chest, breath catching. River felt the shift instantly. He didn't press. Just held her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head like something sacred.
He knew that silence. It wasn't empty. It was full—of longing, of fear, of love too big for words.
After a long moment, he kissed her hair. "No rush," he whispered. "We've got all our history still being written...and it's just mere a thought, a beautiful chaotic dream if I must say."
Time passed, unmeasured.
Eventually, River stirred, brushing a lazy path along her arm. "As much as I don't want to move… we should probably clean up before little Miss Apocalypse discovers her cootie experiment was a success."
He slipped from the bed, gathering clothes with a quiet grace, tossing them into a vague pile. Every now and then, he glanced back at her with a smirk that softened into something more.
"Are you just gonna lie there all smug-looking?" he teased, putting on the T-shirt on, "Or plan on helping me clean up our mess?"
She answered slowly, voice distant. "River…"
He turned. She was still curled beneath the sheets, eyes unfocused, lost somewhere deep behind them and his smirk faded as he knew her thoughts have lead her into the black hole of the overthinking...and maybe a bit more.
He crossed the room and sat beside her, hand resting gently on her hip while his eyes stays focused on her face as if a scientist observing for changes in the sample with patience and anticipation.
"Still thinking?" he asked softly. "what I said… about kids?"
"It's beautiful," she whispered. "And terrifying."
He nodded, thumb stroking her hip. "I know. It's a huge thing. Raising a whole person? Terrifying. But also… kind of awesome, right?"
"In our case… it could ruin us."
He heard the tremor beneath her words, the ache of truth. His hand stilled. Then he reached for her chin, guiding her gaze to his.
"You really think bringing a life into this world—our world—would ruin us?"
She didn't answer right away. When she did, her voice was barely audible. "We're always compromising. We can't be seen together in public. We can't take a picture. And when this little one comes… how do we promise them a normal childhood?"
River exhaled, slow and steady. "You're right. It won't be easy. But when have we ever taken the easy road?"
He lay beside her again, propping himself on one elbow, hand brushing her cheek.
"I'd face hell to give you the world" he said. "You think I'm scared of this, sweetheart?"
"I… I'm scared by the possibility."
He kissed her forehead, voice rough with tenderness. "I know. But we don't have to be ready today. One day at a time—we're already doing it."
He brushed his nose against hers. "And if we bring a little soul into this mess? They won't need perfect parents. Just real ones. And we're the realest thing there is."
That made her smile—small, fragile, but real.
River let out a breath like he'd been holding it for hours. He pulled her close again, wrapping them both in the covers.
"Good," he murmured. "Now I've got my girl back. And when we're ready… we'll figure out the rest together."
The house was quiet, little feet of Rio thundering down the hall as she still run calling around her grandmother about how her beloved uncle has ZOMBIE cooties.
But here...in this bed within each other's tangled arms.
It's just them.
Two souls who have found each other like a dying plant touches the water.
Just River...just Martina...just...them.
Later, dressed again, Martina stepped out of the room popping her stiff back and instantly she cursed river a bit more who was now downstairs, unloading the suitcase from the car while Rio toddling beside him with her tiny hands full of snacks and determination attempted to help her Uncle Wiver.
"Agh, that Moron, couldn't go slow--"
However, abruptly Something tugged at her memory as her hands remain frozen to her pelvis, and her eyes gazed the door just in front of her eyes.
The door which remain next to hers, belonging to her long time neighbor.
With no delay, She nudged the door open.
Inside, the room was dark, the bed a cocoon of blankets. A familiar shape lay curled in sleep.
Gabriella.
Her grown-ass elder sister.
With a wicked grin, she launched herself onto the bed.
A muffled growl. A curse. A pillow flung in retaliation.
Downstairs, River paused mid-lift, glancing up at the ceiling as a thud echoed through the house—followed by yelling, then laughter barely stifled.
He looked at Rio, who stared up at him wide-eyed.
"Uh… that sounded like some sisterly bonding happening."