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You tumble into bed with Isa after a long day off. Your schedules barely sync up anymore, so you took advantage of it all day, trying to be in every moment, but now that you’re at home, it’s time to take the boots off and just relax for a bit.
And you’ve been as chatty as you can be, all things considered, fighting off the fatigue and the heaviness, but it all comes to a head when Isa crawls on top of you, pinning you down.
You raise an eyebrow. “Been thinking about me all day?”
He smiles softly. “Yes,” he whispers, kissing your nose, “but there’s one thing we have to do first.”
“And what is that?”
“Talk to me,” he says. “Something’s been on your mind all day, and you’ve avoided me every time I’ve asked.”
Your smirk drops. “Ah.” Suddenly, his hands on your wrists don’t feel so harmless.
“‘Ah,’ is right, Sif. You can’t dodge me this time.”
“What if I distract you enough?” You try to squirm, but his weight pins you, and even if you could brush him with your thigh, his face is so serious. He’s locked in on you.
“Please, Sif,” he says, almost pleading. “Talk to me.”
Your heart pounds. He deserves honestly, but you swallow the words in a moment.
“I’m fine!” you say, a little higher pitched than you meant to.
“Sif,” Isa says, his breath warm on your face.
“I’d rather have fun, Isa. We can talk after.” Anything to not talk about it now.
He frowns, staring hard at you, but he leans down, lips almost touching yours. “Promise?”
You can smell the cotton and kabobs and pumpkin spice on his breath from your wonderful day out. It cuts through the edges of your rising panic. “Promise,” you say, your breath catching in a sigh.
Isa drops into the crook of your neck, breathing out against your skin, making you shudder. More of his weight presses down on you, his arms burying yours into the mattress, his legs pinning yours. His hands still hold your wrists, and when his breath tickles, you try to squirm free to no avail.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, low and husky. His words tug on your heart. “Just because you don’t want to talk doesn’t mean you can’t ask for comfort another way.”
Your heart races for another reason now, and your legs rub together. He could sense your feelings all day, couldn’t he? Isa’s always been good at reading you, and he waited until you were home in private to try pulling it out of you.
His featherlight kisses run down your collarbone and toward your chest, easily accessible with the new low-cut tops you’ve final found comfort in wearing. Exposed and open to him, even if your thoughts aren’t yet. You’d close your heart to him to save yourself the embarrassment, but… you don’t want to. It’s just so hard to say the words sometimes.
“You can’t run from me anymore,” Isa says, kissing right over your breastbone, his stubble tickling you until you squeak. You have to calm yourself for a moment, and Isa hovers over you, leaning in until your foreheads are touching. “You can’t hide behind another mask. Not now.”
You stare into his eyes, so sincere and soft and sweet, until your blush is so deep you’re pretty sure there’s steam coming out of your ears.
To be seen and known, and then called out so thoroughly…
It’s embarrassing and tender and, honestly, incredibly hot.
You barely keep the tears back before asking, “Is this the part where you kiss me?”
“Depends,” he says. “We can both keep dragging this out.”
You laugh. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Isa.”