Romy lifted Monty into his arms with surprising ease, water still tracing lines down their skin like fading memories. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if Monty were something fragile, too precious to rush. Monty wrapped his arms around Romy's neck, hiding a shy smile against his shoulder, his heart still fluttering in the afterglow of their closeness.
As they stepped out of the bathroom, steam followed them like a warm ghost, vanishing into the air. Romy set Monty down on the edge of the bed and reached for a soft towel, running it gently over his arms, his chest, every curve and angle of him. It wasn't just drying, it was care. Intimacy in its purest form.
Monty watched with heavy-lidded eyes, every soft brush of the towel across his skin igniting sparks in his chest. When Romy finished, he draped the towel over Monty's shoulders and leaned in, placing a lingering kiss on his damp forehead.
Then, without a word, they both crawled onto the bed, the sheets cool against their warm skin. They faced each other, breaths still syncing from the rhythm they had shared under the shower's spell.
Monty reached out, gently tracing Romy's jawline with his fingertips, his voice a quiet whisper. "You made me feel… like I'm not just wanted. Like I'm loved."
Romy's eyes softened. "I loved. Every inch of you. Every part."
Monty didn't answer. Instead, he slowly slid down, brushing his lips to Romy's ankle. Then his calf. Then the curve just behind his knee. Each kiss was soft, slow, worshipful — like he was thanking every part of Romy for holding him, for choosing him.
Finally, he reached Romy's thighs, then his stomach, and then, with a gaze full of fire and devotion, Monty settled beside him again, pulling the blanket over them both as if to seal them in their own little universe.
Romy touched his cheek, their noses nearly touching. "What now?" he asked softly.
Monty smiled, eyes gleaming. "Now… we sleep in each other's arms. And whatever tomorrow brings, we face it together."
The night had wrapped them in its tender embrace, a soft cocoon where time slowed and nothing else mattered but the heat of their closeness. They had spent hours entwined, whispers, touches, and kisses that melted into one another like a slow-burning fire. The world outside had vanished, leaving only the rhythm of their hearts beating as one beneath the silken sheets.
As dawn's first light seeped gently through the curtains, it painted Romy's face with soft gold. His eyes fluttered open, the remnants of their night together lingering like a warm echo in his mind. For a moment, he thought it had all been a dream, the way Monty's lips had felt, so soft and irresistibly inviting, like honey melting on his skin.
Unable to resist, Romy's fingers traced the curve of Monty's juicy lips, memorizing their softness once again. His breath hitched as Monty's eyes opened slowly, meeting his with a spark that set Romy's heart racing all over again.
Monty's voice was low and teasing as he whispered, "good morning hubby"
Without hesitation, Romy closed the small distance between them and pressed his lips fiercely against Monty's, his hunger impossible to contain. "I want to drink from those luscious lips of yours," he murmured between kisses, "to taste every drop."
Monty's hands slid into Romy's hair, pulling him closer, their mouths moving in a desperate, intoxicating dance. The morning light caught the fire in their eyes, a promise of endless passion, of love found and fiercely claimed.