Joel Waters-Baker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
just_another) wrote2015-05-25 01:32 pm
just_another) wrote2015-05-25 01:32 pm
Entry tags:
[Closed - Spencer - May 30]
In a strange turn of events, Joel loves New York.
The man who's been unable to leave Siren Cove for over a decade, the man who nearly drove his car off the road in a panic the first time he tried, the man who had an anxiety attack at the rail of a ship when he finally managed to leave, absolutely loves everything about New York City.
He and Spencer had arrived the night before and while the apartment Aoife has graciously allowed them use of for the weekend is absolutely beautiful, Joel had found himself at the window staring out at the city with wide eyes for close to fifteen minutes before Spencer had announced they were unpacked and they should go out to find some dinner. They'd gotten distracted be Central Park and Joel had once again found himself completely enchanted, standing at the edge of a lake and staring across at a building he couldn't identify but somehow looked familiar all the same. It had taken Spencer's gentle reminder that he was hungry to actually pull Joel away. By the time they found dinner near Times Square -- one more thing that had stunned Joel to silence -- and then made their way back to the apartment on the subway, he was surprised by just how sore he was from all the walking they'd done.
And today is going to be no different. Today they have the literary tour of bars in New York and today he and Spencer are going to do a shot of whiskey at every single one. Today, by the time they're done, they're going to be very drunk and Joel can't wait. It feels like a real vacation, sort of how the cruise had felt at first, but he's absolutely certain this time they're not going to end up on a magical island with monsters and things that steal magic.
Of course, he thinks he might willingly give up his magic for another week in New York. He's never been so immediately comfortable somewhere that wasn't home and he isn't even sure what it is. People are kind in a way he hadn't expected given the angry New Yorker stereotype, but they've been offered directions more than once and a very kind woman had helped them find their way on the subway the night before. He loves it here and he's sure Spencer can tell.
More than that, he loves that Spencer seems to be enjoying himself, too. The bruises haven't entirely faded, but Joel's potions have helped speed the process and no one has even looked at him twice here. They blend into the crowd with ease, walking down the sidewalks holding hands and although Joel is sure there are moments when they look exactly like the tourists they are, for the most part he doesn't think they stick out all that much at all.
"The tour starts in about an hour," he says, glancing down at his phone as he tries to decide which cardigan to wear. "Do you want to stop for lunch first or get something while we're drinking our way through New York?"
The man who's been unable to leave Siren Cove for over a decade, the man who nearly drove his car off the road in a panic the first time he tried, the man who had an anxiety attack at the rail of a ship when he finally managed to leave, absolutely loves everything about New York City.
He and Spencer had arrived the night before and while the apartment Aoife has graciously allowed them use of for the weekend is absolutely beautiful, Joel had found himself at the window staring out at the city with wide eyes for close to fifteen minutes before Spencer had announced they were unpacked and they should go out to find some dinner. They'd gotten distracted be Central Park and Joel had once again found himself completely enchanted, standing at the edge of a lake and staring across at a building he couldn't identify but somehow looked familiar all the same. It had taken Spencer's gentle reminder that he was hungry to actually pull Joel away. By the time they found dinner near Times Square -- one more thing that had stunned Joel to silence -- and then made their way back to the apartment on the subway, he was surprised by just how sore he was from all the walking they'd done.
And today is going to be no different. Today they have the literary tour of bars in New York and today he and Spencer are going to do a shot of whiskey at every single one. Today, by the time they're done, they're going to be very drunk and Joel can't wait. It feels like a real vacation, sort of how the cruise had felt at first, but he's absolutely certain this time they're not going to end up on a magical island with monsters and things that steal magic.
Of course, he thinks he might willingly give up his magic for another week in New York. He's never been so immediately comfortable somewhere that wasn't home and he isn't even sure what it is. People are kind in a way he hadn't expected given the angry New Yorker stereotype, but they've been offered directions more than once and a very kind woman had helped them find their way on the subway the night before. He loves it here and he's sure Spencer can tell.
More than that, he loves that Spencer seems to be enjoying himself, too. The bruises haven't entirely faded, but Joel's potions have helped speed the process and no one has even looked at him twice here. They blend into the crowd with ease, walking down the sidewalks holding hands and although Joel is sure there are moments when they look exactly like the tourists they are, for the most part he doesn't think they stick out all that much at all.
"The tour starts in about an hour," he says, glancing down at his phone as he tries to decide which cardigan to wear. "Do you want to stop for lunch first or get something while we're drinking our way through New York?"
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It's always going to be just for the two of them.
"No clothes rule, I like that rule," he decides as he stops on a street to look up at the sign overhead. It takes him a moment to figure out exactly where they are and although they've walked a fair distance today and they've spent the better part of it getting progressively drunker, he's pleased to realize they've made almost a full loop and are fairly close to the apartment. "Just a few blocks, actually. We're quite close. I think I knew that the tour would take us on something like a loop, but I also think I forgot about three bars ago where we were, let alone where we could expect to ultimately be. But we're close. We're very close, which is good, because I'm pretty sure I'm going to forget how to walk in about ten more steps and also... also, I just want to take my clothes off with you." He finishes this speech with something close to a giggle, then bites down on his lower lip as he slips his fingers under Spencer's shirt, holding onto him tightly, his fingers pressing against his warm skin. He's never been happier than he is with his husband and right now, drunk and walking down the street in New York, knowing they're only moments away from being alone, he feels like he might actually explode with it.
But as promised, it doesn't take them long to reach the apartment and Joel fumbles for the keys in the pocket, dragging them out and letting them into the building. It's a beautiful building, like nothing he's ever really seen before, at least, not from this side. He's seen pictures of places like this online and in books, but he's never been able to afford to stay somewhere like this and as they make their way toward the elevator, he has to hold back another laugh as the doorman -- because there is an actual doorman -- first opens the inner set of doors for them and then presses the button to call the elevator. In a place like this, Joel doesn't think they have to do any actual work and it feels sort of strange, but he likes it, too. It's not something he'd ever be able to get used to, he would feel too strange having someone do everything for him on the average day, but for a vacation it's not so bad.
"Thank you," he says, still not entirely sure if he's supposed to tip for something like that. He doesn't think so, since this is a private apartment and not a hotel, but he's never been particularly good at knowing what's right and what's going to be looked at as strange. He'll ask Aoife when they get back, because even if he's made a major mistake here, he doesn't think she'll laugh at him. She might be ridiculously rich, but she's never treated him like he's any less important just because he's not.
But by the time they make it up to the apartment, all thoughts of the doorman and the elevator and whether or not he's acting the part of a rich person properly leave Joel's mind, because Spencer had said there was a new rule once they get through the door and Joel is very much looking forward to enacting that rule. They're barely through the door, the keys tossed aside, before Joel is sliding his hands up and under Spencer's shirt, pulling the material away from his warm skin. The night outside had been hot, but the apartment is air conditioned nicely and Joel can already feel the light sheen of sweat drying on Spencer's skin. He wants to strip the rest of his clothes off and run his tongue over Spencer's chest, tasting the salt left behind and he makes a disgruntled noise, one that makes it clear they should both be undressed by now and he can't quite understand why they're not. His fingers pluck at Spencer's shirt again before he draws his hands back and begins to undress himself, knowing they're likely too drunk to be undressing each other with the sort of speed he wants.
"Take it off," he says, his voice gruff and a little breathless. He's already yanking his own shirt over his head, tugging it free when it gets caught on his hair, and then he throws it aside. Briefly, he checks the door to make sure it's locked, to be certain no one is ever going to stumble in here by accident -- though he can't imagine who would -- and interrupt their night. "Take it all off, Spencer. Now."
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The second they walk in the door, Joel tells him-- no, commands him to take off his clothes, take it all off, and it sends a shuddering thrill through him. He's not at all an expert in what it takes to make a sex life exceptionally well-rounded but then again, he doesn't care how their sex life compares to others' because what they share in passion for each other is perfect for them, for who they are and what they're like together. They put each other in control when they're intimate and it's for that very reason that they're always on equal ground. There's never been any reason for either of them to ask that the other slow down or stop altogether because they've gotten incredibly good at reading each other, at knowing what's right and when slow is too slow or fast is too fast.
He thinks that he'll likely always think back to that first time they'd been intimate, that first time Joel had been so gentle with him, not only because Spencer had lacked experience in having sex with a man but because even then, they'd loved each other so deeply. They'd waited until the time was right and it had paid off; now, Spencer can't imagine how anyone would ever want anything but monogamy because his husband knows exactly the right places to touch, to lick, to kiss. Joel knows all the signs that lead to Spencer wanting to come, knows how to prolong their time in bed if that's what they want or to thrust into him at just the right angle to let him have his release.
They know each other inside and out, and Spencer wouldn't have it any other way or with anybody else. He watches as Joel pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the floor, tugs his own off as Joel turns back from checking the door and fumbles with trembling hands at his belt buckle as his heart starts to beat harder. The walk home had done him good, he's no longer seeing double at every corner, but it's still incredibly difficult to concentrate on something like unbuckling a belt when his husband has him so turned on with just a few words.
His cock is already straining against his jeans, and Spencer aches for his husband's hand around it, can already imagine what it will be like to have that hand wrapped around him and stroking as he tilts his head back with his lips parted. It's only after a moment that he realizes he's already given into the fantasy without having made much progress with his pants and all, and he snaps his head back up to focus intently on getting his jeans undone and dropped to the floor along with his briefs so that his cock can spring from its confines. He knows his body is still littered with bruises, most of them well on their way to fading as if they'd never been there at all, but between the potion tailored with a flavor just for him and the seven shots of whiskey, Spencer has no room in his mind to feel at all self-conscious. Present, too, is the confident knowledge that Joel would never find him undesirable.
Unable to help himself, he grips his cock and bites down hard on his lip as he brushes his thumb over the tip to spread the pre-come that's already there, glancing coyly up at his husband. He steps forward, tugging at the line of Joel's jeans before gliding his hand up the length of his husband's chest and letting his fingers brush through the hair there before leaning in to press their lips together for a kiss.
"You're already breaking the rules," he murmurs, pulling back slightly to nod pointedly down at Joel's pants. "How are you supposed to fuck me if you don't even have your pants off?" Releasing himself with a groan, he sinks to his knees to be of assistance, slowly undoing the button of Joel's pants before pulling down the zipper. He keeps his gaze fixed on Joel as he curls his fingers under the band of Joel's briefs, tugging them down as he had his own with Joel's jeans and wetting his lips before allowing himself to take in the sight of his husband's cock.
"God, you're so beautiful," he says, swallowing hard before flicking his tongue out at the head. "I want you so badly, baby, I always do."
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"I'm naked now," he points out rather breathlessly. "You helped me. You always help me, Spencer, oh god." Right now he's torn between just standing here and letting Spencer suck him off, and scrambling to their bag so he can get the lube and then dragging Spencer out onto the balcony like he's promised. The air feels heavy and hot even though he knows it can't be, even though he knows the entire apartment is air conditioned, and he wants to get Spencer outside where they'll both be able to feel the warm evening breeze on their overheated skin, but at the same time he isn't entirely sure he's capable of moving. He feels frozen in place, frozen to Spencer, willing to do anything and everything his husband asks of him. "And you can always have me. Always. Whenever you want, just... oh god."
He can't breathe. There's no way in the world anyone should expect him to be able to breathe right now and for a moment his head tips back and he stares up at the ceiling without actually seeing it. His mind is just full of Spencer and how it feels to have his husband's mouth on his cock, and he shuffles a little, kicking his jeans and briefs off the rest of the way so that when it comes time to move -- and it will be time soon, he's getting impatient -- he won't end up tripping and falling flat on his face. A broken nose is a surefire want for this night to end badly, he thinks, and all he wants is to give Spencer everything. There's no way he's going to disrupt what they have together by making such a clumsy, stupid mistake, and so he pushes his jeans aside with his foot before he buries his hands in Spencer's hair and tugs lightly, trying to get him to look up.
"I'm going to fuck you," he says, his voice low and breathless. "I promised I would. Or if I didn't promise, then I'm promising now. I'm going to fuck you." And then he lifts one hand, his fingers trembling slightly as he points toward the balcony with the sliding glass door and the soft, inviting looking lounge furniture arranged perfectly. It looks like something out of a magazine and although Joel thinks he and Spencer have done a great job with the house, although he thinks they have a very nice sense of style, he knows it's nothing like this. They'll never compare to something like this and he's more than okay with that. This isn't what anyone would expect out of them and it isn't what Joel would want either. Their home is perfect as their home. And this is the perfect place for them to have an escape, to leave Siren Cove behind, to be just two happily married men out on a vacation for a few days. "I will. I'm going to. Out there. On that perfect furniture." And he almost giggles when he says it, then manages to rein the laughter in at the last moment, instead looking seriously down at Spencer, though he's sure his husband can see the laughter and the happiness lighting up his eyes.
"Get up," he breathes. "And go out there and wait for me. I'll be right there." All he has to do is get the bottle of lubricant, but he likes the idea of telling Spencer what to do, even if there's a little smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It's silly, it's a game more than anything, ordering him around like that, but it's fun and he very much likes the idea of Spencer waiting for him outside, ready and wanting him, impatient for Joel to finally join him on the balcony. "Go."
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With a low whine escaping from deep within his throat and the brief taste he's had of his husband's cock still on his tongue, Spencer steps backwards toward the glass door to the balcony so that he can be sure to take in the sight of Joel's naked body as they walk away from each other. It's the opposite of what he wants right now, they should be closer not getting farther apart, but what's left of his rationality is enough to remind him that the very reason he's been sent outside to wait is because in a few short minutes, he and Joel will be as close to each other as humanly possible.
Once he's made it to the balcony, however, he finds that his patience is much shorter than he'd initially thought it to be. Spencer lowers himself onto one of the lounge chairs, his whiskey-addled mind letting him get distracted for just a second by how unbelievably soft the cushions are, and he makes a mental note that he likely won't remember tomorrow to look into buying something similar for the house. It'd be a nice addition on its own, he reasons, but what would make it even better would be remembering each time they sink onto it that they'd fucked on something just like it during this trip.
It makes his cock twitch to think that way, to think of Joel promising he'd be out here shortly to fuck him, and Spencer loves when they're gentler with each other, when the way they move with each other might be better classified as making love--though he's come to believe that with Joel, there's little difference--but the sound of the words coming out in Joel's low, husky voice still resonates through him. There are certain times that Spencer wants nothing more than for Joel to slam into him, to move so deeply inside of him that Spencer can barely remember his own name when he reaches his climax, and he can't deny that this is one of them. He isn't entirely certain what Joel has planned for him tonight except for what he's already been promised, but Spencer knows that whatever it is will be exactly what he needs.
Joel always knows exactly what he needs.
Right now, Spencer needs his husband out on this balcony, and he's sure it's only been half a minute since he's been out here but he lets out frustrated huff before wrapping his hand around himself again. He gives his cock a slight tug, groaning in frustration at the thought of having to wait a second longer, and it's then that he gets an idea. Joel is making him wait, making him yearn and anticipate and want while he retrieves the lube from their room, but that doesn't mean Spencer can't make a move of his own.
They're both in what seems to be exceptionally playful moods this evening, after all, so Spencer brings a finger to his mouth and sucks, coating it with his saliva before spreading his legs on the chair and circling his finger against his ass. His lips part at the feel of it, though he knows it will feel a hundred times better once it's Joel's finger inside of him rather than his own, and he lets his head fall back against the chair as he presses into himself with a moan. It takes him a moment to adjust to the intrusion, he can feel the resistance, and he's even more pleased with his idea because it only means Joel can fuck him faster; but when he hears the glass door sliding open again, he makes no effort to pull out of himself.
Instead he grins lazily up at his husband, still sliding his finger in and out as arches a brow. "Thought it might benefit us both if I got a head start," he says, spreading his legs wider to give Joel a better look.
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"My god, Spencer," he breathes as he sinks down onto his knees beside him. He still has the lube in one hand, but the other he lifts to Spencer's knee and smooths over his skin, rising up his thigh and toward his hip. From this vantage point, his view is rather incredible and he all but whimpers, watching as Spencer's finger moves in and out, so slowly, so excruciatingly slow that Joel thinks he might lose his mind before he even has a chance to really do anything. But even with as drunk as he is, there's a part of him coherent enough to remember what he wants, the things he'd promised Spencer he would do, and without another word, without the slightest warning, he's suddenly up and he's on the lounge chair with Spencer. It's long enough, but it isn't particularly wide and that doesn't matter, because somehow Joel fits anyway as he continues to clutch the lube in one hand, having almost forgotten it's there at all. He's kissing Spencer, that's the only thing he can focus on at the moment, pressing his husband's lips apart with his tongue, kissing him harder and deeper, as he presses their bodies closer together and right here, lying against Spencer he can feel his hand moving, his finger still inside his body.
And he doesn't even know how he's moving anymore, he doesn't know how he manages to be coordinated when he feels so clumsy and off balance, but all he knows is that he wants to be the one fucking Spencer with his fingers. Somehow he gets between Spencer's knees on the chair, somehow he manages to move without knocking either of them over and he settles there, still kissing his husband. He wants to be the one inside Spencer, feeling how tight and warm his body is, and it's such a stupid feeling, but for a moment he's actually jealous that Spencer is fucking himself. He realizes it's silly, even laughs about it, but that doesn't change the undeniable need he has to change their positions so he can be the one to make Spencer feel good.
"I said I was going to fuck you," he mumbles against Spencer's mouth, realizing at the last moment that he still has the lube in his hand and he reaches down between their bodies and flips open the cap, spilling some of it onto his fingers. He's drunk, he feels like he's still not entirely in control of himself, but he manages to close the bottle and toss it aside, though he takes care not to let it get too far. They're going to need it again and probably soon, because he can't imagine he's going to be able to hold off on fucking Spencer, not for very long. Not when he's wanted this for hours now, not when he's had all the time in the world to build it up in his head and imagine how perfect it will be. Because they're always perfect together. He's never not been blown away when they're intimate and another person might feel like that's a lot to live up to, but Joel just trusts they'll always be that way together. They'll always find their rhythm, they'll always be able to move as one, and he knows they're lucky. He'll never forget that either.
Carefully, he nudges his slick fingers against Spencer's and then, still taking care to be gentle, he presses one of his fingers inside Spencer's ass alongside his own. They're both already relaxed from the alcohol and Spencer's already been fucking himself long enough that it isn't difficult for Joel's finger to slide in as well and he groans at the feeling, at knowing they're both inside Spencer right now, at the knowledge that it won't be long before he's fucking him into this chair. "Spencer... Jesus," he manages to say, but not much else. Already he's breathing hard and he twists his finger a little, taking care, moving with Spencer's as best he can.
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When he'd woken up in a female body after drinking that potion months ago, they'd done this and it'd felt incredible. Everything about the sex they'd had at that time had been so unbelievably perfect, especially knowing that it wouldn't ever be something they could do again. They'd taken advantage of every free moment they'd shared alone, and Spencer can still remember being on that stepladder with Joel's tongue between his legs, and he wonders how it's possible that after all they've done together when their bodies are as they're meant to be, they somehow managed to overlook this particular opportunity.
Fucking himself like this with Joel following his lead brings him indescribable pleasure, mostly because it means that in some small way, Spencer is being given control before he happily lets himself be taken over. He curls his finger inside of him and when Joel does the same, he's no longer just rolling his hips but bucking them, a low, long whine sounding from his throat, though Spencer can hardly believe such a sound could come from him. He's always wanting his husband, would never say no if Joel were ever to suggest going somewhere private so they can be intimate, no matter where they are, but Spencer loves it when it feels this raw. If Joel's clothes weren't already off, he'd be tearing at them, rending them until they fall of his husband's perfect, strong body, and Spencer uses his free hand to slide down the length of Joel's chest until he reaches the hair that leads straight to Joel's cock.
He's rocking himself now, on his finger and Joel's, and his mind is dizzy with an aroused sort of confusion that this is happening right now, but Spencer welcomes it. He feels incredible tonight, the whiskey still coursing through him in a way that doesn't worry him but makes him so light. The bruises on his body don't matter, that this isn't their house or their furniture doesn't matter, nothing but Joel matters, which isn't so unusual in the first place. Lowering his hand, he slowly ghosts his fingers over Joel's erection, licking his lips as he remembers the taste of that cock in his mouth, and he curses under his breath as he looks up Joel with wide, pleading eyes.
"More," he says, groping for the hand Joel's using to fuck him until he finds a second finger and pushes it inside himself, tightening his body with a gasp as his head falls back against the chair. There's nothing he wants more right now than Joel to be fucking him into a stupor on this balcony and maybe later, Spencer will consider that there have been neighbors about who could hear them or maybe even see them but in this particular moment, he has absolutely no room in his mind for anything that could bring this to a screeching halt.
"More," he says again, "god, Joel, it feels so fucking good."
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But Spencer is asking him for more and Joel can't deny him anything at the best of times, nevermind when it's absolutely something he needs himself. He's aching for this, needing to be inside Spencer more than he thinks he's ever needed it before, and a part of him knows it can't be true, but the rest is insisting it must be. It wasn't that long ago that the town thought he might be responsible for Spencer's disappearance and there's nothing Joel can say to that, nothing he can ever do to convince anyone he would never hurt Spencer, because when the people of Siren Cove become convinced of something he knows they won't see another point of view. But during that time he had been so scared, terrified that no matter what he did, he wouldn't be able to get Spencer back, and those feelings are flooding back to him now, the sense of helplessness, the constant reminder that seemed to be floating around him that something was terribly wrong. Some people had wanted to believe Spencer was really gone and while Joel could never let himself think that way, knowing he was surrounded by others who were ready to give up had weighed on him so heavily and there had been moments of true terror where he wondered if he would really never get to hold Spencer again.
And none of that matters now except to drive home the fact that they're meant for each other. Every moment they have is precious, every exchange, every single time they even look at each other. They're all so meaningful because Joel knows they can just be taken away in the blink of an eye. He'll do everything in his power to make sure such a thing never happens and he knows Spencer will, too, but there's no denying there are things beyond their control. Rather than fear those things, rather than live in anxiety that he might one day lose this incredible man, he's just going to do everything he can to make it all count. To make everything they have together memorable, to not waste a single moment of it, and then when they're old men they can look back on this life with pride.
"I'll give you anything," he breathes, slowly withdrawing his fingers from inside Spencer so he can grab the lubricant again. His hands are shaking, but he manages to spill some onto his fingers, slicking it over his cock before he carefully closes the cap and sets it down on nearby table. There's a little part of Joel still aware enough to know he's too drunk to just throw the lube aside. If he does, he's bound to forget it, and he's going to do his best not to leave a trace of their weekend experiences behind for anyone to discover, even though he's sure there's going to be a huge cleaning team sent in before anyone else uses the apartment. It's so far from the life he knows that he almost giggles, but manages to restrain himself at the last moment when he looks down at Spencer again and feels another deep shiver of pleasure and anticipation running through him.
It takes him a moment to adjust himself on the chair and he tugs gently at Spencer's hips, pulling him closer until the head of his cock is nudging against Spencer's ass. Even that threatens to undo him and Joel bites back a moan, dropping his head so he can look down between their bodies, taking in the sight of himself rubbing his cock against Spencer, the perfect spread of his husband's legs, the way his own cock is laying heavily against his belly. "God," he moans, his voice louder than he intends for it to be, but he can't stop himself. Spencer is so perfect and Joel is too drunk to be aware of anything but how good all this feels.
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The plan had always been to come to New York for the weekend but it initially hadn't included finding a way to chase the pain and fear away. The charm Davin had made doesn't work against waking nightmares, the kind Spencer sees even with his eyes still wide open, and though he'd known that with Joel and for the baby, he could find a way to move on, being here has only helped the process. It's difficult to give in to the temptation of shutting his eyes and seeing Roman's face when his husband has his cock pressed against him like this, after all, and Joel is the only man Spencer wants on his mind right now. Or ever.
Letting a long, shaky breath that's quickly followed by a huffed laugh, Spencer lays his head back and widens his legs as much as he can without letting them slip off the chair, still aware even in his drunken state that they can't exactly roll around freely out here the way they can in bed. The spacial limitation doesn't matter, though, not when he's so close to being fucked by the only person in this world he can't live without, and he reaches his hand between them to wrap around his husband's cock so he can carefully guide him where Joel is meant to be.
His lips part as Joel slowly pushes into him, eyes fluttering at how right it feels, heart pounding with how much he's missed this because it hasn't been that long since they'd last had sex but it's been long enough. He never wants to be forced away from being able to have this again, not just because he loves the way it makes him feel to be filled in such a satisfying way but because he loves this man so much, more than he could ever truly hope to put into words. The closest Spencer had ever come to doing that had been the night they'd gotten married, the vows he'd cried his way through that would change a little bit every day because with each passing sunset, Joel becomes more and more a part of him. There is no life without his husband, not anymore, not for a long time now, and Spencer is aware that some people can't imagine being with someone in that way but then again, none of those people have Joel.
The second the entirety of Joel's length has pressed into him, Spencer shudders again, wrapping his legs around his husband's length and squeezing his ass so Joel can feel it, can feel him warm and tight around his cock as he rakes his nails down Joel's back. They're still on the tip of his tongue, these words he wants to say but can't quite vocalize, but he meets Joel's gaze and it's clear enough that everything he would want to express right now is already reflected back at him through his husband's eyes.
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There's nothing about their sex life that Joel dislikes, of course. Being able to press Spencer up against bookshelf in the library or bending him over a table is all incredible, but this is still what he likes best. Being inside him and still being able to see him because he loves watching the way Spencer's expressions change and he loves being able to hold him down and kiss him. More than anything, he just loves being close to him and this is always the best way to do that, the easiest way for him to get close and lean in and just breathe in Spencer's scent as he fucks him. In this position he can hook Spencer's leg over his arm and bend down to press kisses along his collarbone, which he does now, breathing out hard against his husband's skin as his hips roll again, burying himself inside Spencer.
And it isn't that he's particularly shy with Spencer anymore, but being drunk has given him a certain level of bravery he doesn't always possess. His tongue sweeps out, a much more intimate version of what he'd done earlier in the bar, his tongue sweeping over Spencer's skin, dragging up the length of his throat toward his ear. He tastes like salt and sweat, like the night air and somehow like whiskey, as if it's gotten into his very pores, and Joel finds himself laughing against Spencer's ear, his lips turned up into a lazy sort of smile. He's doing his best to keep it slow for the moment, he wants this to last as long as it possibly can and he knows if he does what he wants, if he just begins to thrust into Spencer at the speed with which his body is craving, he won't last nearly as long as he could. More than anything, he wants to give Spencer what he asked for. He wants to fuck him on this balcony, make him remember it, make him feel incredible and when he reaches up and slides his fingers into Spencer's hair, it's with another slow roll of his hips.
With his head buried against the curve of Spencer's throat he can feel his pulse jumping, the way his skin is growing warm and slick in the night air, and all Joel wants to do is stay here, wrapped up in everything that makes up his amazing husband. His lips part again, his tongue darts out against Spencer's shoulder and then he bites down gently, not hard enough to leave a mark, just a drag of his teeth over skin, hoping to pull a shudder out of Spencer or a moan or just any sort of reaction, because listening to Spencer and feeling him move and seeing the way he responds is one of the very best things in the world as far as Joel is concerned.
"Tell me what you want," he breathes before he even realizes he's going to say it. The other best thing in the world is hearing Spencer talk dirty, listening to the way the words just roll off his tongue in such an unexpected manner. "Tell me. I want to heat you say it."
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He's never ached for someone to love like so many other people he knows do. Spencer has heard it before, complaints of how all the good ones are taken or that the right person doesn't seem to really exist, and he's never understood the misery behind it because as far as he'd been concerned, loving is only ever dangerous. Loving leads to losing; in Spencer's life, it always had. Guarding himself from being put through that kind of pain again had seemed like the only option after his family had been killed, and it'd been easy because the only other person Spencer had felt could accept him more no less than who he is had been his brother. With Dane gone, with their mother gone, nothing had really mattered anymore, and Spencer had been left drifting aimlessly.
Leave it to the quiet, unsociable but still kindly bookshop owner to change all of that. Being next to him in the library that night they'd shared a bottle of whiskey had made Spencer seriously grapple with the desire to kiss someone for the first time in years, and that's no small feat. The courage he'd found to say some of the more graphic things he's said since they'd started having sex had only been influenced in him because of Joel, because of this man who's never once judged him for anything he's done or felt, even if they're less than admirable some of the time.
Spencer always feels protected, in heart and body and mind, with Joel nearby but when they're being intimate, a safe space is a guarantee. That's what makes their sex life so incredible, so incomparable--there's always trust between them, always, and it makes all the difference.
"What I want," he murmurs, pausing to let out a low whimper as Joel seems to move even slower now, drawing out of his ass steadily before pushing back in, inch by inch. It makes is heart beat faster, knowing what Joel wants to hear, knowing that as soon as he says it, his husband will happily oblige.
He arches his back beneath Joel, pressing his cock against Joel's belly so he can make sure his husband can feels how turned on he is, how achingly hard he is for only him and wets his lips before answering in a husky voice, "I want you to fuck me so hard that I can't even think anymore. I want you to make me see stars, I want you to make me scream loud enough that anyone close enough to hear us knows exactly what we're doing out here." He leans forward, catching Joel's bottom lips between his teeth and tugging at it briefly before letting it go. "Is that what you want to hear, baby, is it? Fuck me, Joel."
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"Fuck, Spencer," he manages to grit out and even now, Joel rarely curses. He tends to leave it to Spencer even in moments like this and he loves so much the things his husband can say, somehow all without sounding silly or uncomfortable. No matter what Joel does, whenever he tries to do the same, he's often very aware of how he sounds and ends up feeling as if he's not doing it properly, but right now it's easy enough to lose himself in the feeling of Spencer's body, hot and tight around him, the press of his husband's cock against his stomach, how hard he is, how badly Joel wants to reach between them and take Spencer in his hand and begin to stroke him. He can get lost in the fact that there's here together, alone and drunk and happy, he can get lost in it enough that when he curses, it comes out sounding natural, an expression of just how good he feels, and it doesn't even occur to him for a single second that it might sound awkward or what he should be embarrassed. Not that he ever feels embarrassed when he's with Spencer. The one person in the entire world he's always comfortable with is this perfect man he's with right now.
He reaches up with one hand, hooking his fingers first around the edge of the chair, but they fall to Spencer's shoulder a second later. Every part of him is craving Spencer, every last bit of him wants to be touching, their skin sliding against each other, their movements always in this undeniable rhythm they find together. His hips are moving a little faster now, but more than anything he's focused on burying himself as deep as he possibly can inside Spencer's body. He's surrounded by his heat and Joel's head tips forward, his forehead resting against Spencer's for just a moment as he fights for control and then realizes he's going to lose. He has no control here, he never has any control when it comes to this man, his beautiful husband, and he shouldn't even try.
Carefully, without losing his balance, he shifts and manages to slip one hand between their bodies as his other slips down from Spencer's shoulder, travels across his chest and then ends up anchored at his hip. His fingers wrap around Spencer's cock, though he doesn't stroke him yet, just holds onto him as he sits up a little, braces his knees against the chair and draws their bodies together at the same time. His head feels like it's spinning, between the whiskey and the feeling of being inside Spencer and knowing what his husband wants him to do, but he thrusts harder, faster, and he can hear the sound of their skin coming together, he can see the sparks already going off behind his eyelids and he trembles as he fucks Spencer harder yet, desperate little moans escaping him with every thrust. His thumb sweeps over the head of Spencer's cock, smearing pre-come, and he wishes he could do everything at once. He wishes he could taste Spencer right now and without thinking he lifts his hand to his mouth, licking his thumb clean before he wraps his fingers around Spencer's cock again.
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He wonders if they'll end up falling asleep out here in a bundle of limbs, sticky and sweaty and exhausted, and while the next day might find them sore and regretful that they'd done it, Spencer doesn't think he'd mind it tonight. At this point, he's already very aware that Joel is fucking him hard enough to ensure that every part of him will be feeling it tomorrow because he's tense all over, from his neck to his shoulders to his ass and thighs, tense from tightening that ring of muscle around Joel's cock and taking it like this, hard and fast and passionate, just as he'd wanted.
Each thrust somehow feels deeper than the last, and Spencer can feel his husband, really feel Joel inside of him as they let go for each other, as they offer their bodies to each other because they know where they belong and that's here, together, for the rest of their lives. With every slap of skin that sounds, Spencer's moaning grows louder and not just for the sake of what he'd said about wanting the neighbors to be able to hear them. When he's with Joel, he finds it difficult to control himself because his husband is so beautiful, so utterly perfect in world where perfection isn't supposed to exist, so Spencer isn't sure how he's expected to function at all when someone like that is practically bending him in half as he fucks him into a lounge chair.
When Joel takes hold of his cock, rubs his thumb over the head, Spencer is certain that there must be fireworks going off in the distance until he realizes his eyes are closed because all he sees is an explosion of static and color as he shouts for Joel to fuck him harder, begging him for a pleasure that very nearly borders on pain, and he may very well find that he has a whole new set of bruises tomorrow from the way his body keeps bouncing on the chair beneath them, but Spencer doesn't care. It's what he wants, it's what he's loving right now, and he lets out a low, continuous and trembling moan as he gets closer to reaching his climax with Joel's fingers wrapped around his length.
"Oh, god," he says, nearly breathless as he fixes his gaze on his husband, biting down hard on his lip as he shifts his body to lift one leg over Joel's shoulder. It changes the angle of Joel's thrusting, it changes everything, and he gasps for breath as he lets his head fall back hard against the chair, his lips forming words that he can no longer pout a voice to as he writhes under his husband. He's close, so close, and his entire body begins to shudder from all the thrills that are being sent through him as his mind tries to reconcile the way Joel looks licking come from his fingers with the way it feels to be jerked off while being so mercilessly fucked.
"Joel," he manages, eyes widening as he feels the heat in his belly start to overwhelm, and Spencer can feel himself getting closer to being undone as he reaches out to wrap his hand around Joel's, urging him to stroke once, twice, before he's reaching his orgasm and letting out a shout as he spills over his and Joel's fingers.
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He's lucky. He's so goddamn lucky.
"Spencer," he breathes, feeling the way his husband's orgasm shudders through his body and he trembles himself, his muscles suddenly going taut before they relax just a second later. It isn't going to be long now, not like this, with Spencer spent and trembling under him, with his leg up against Joel's shoulder and he's never known there are so many ways to be wrapped up in a person until Spencer. He'd never realized it would be possible to get so physically close in so many different ways, to literally have every last bit of Spencer wrapped up in every last bit of him, and it's been one of the best surprises of falling in love with this man. They've discovered so much together, so many parts of life previously unknown to them both, and Joel knows that's at least part of what makes their relationship so special. They have things other people don't have and it's theirs alone. Their secret, their love, their relationship, and no one else can ever get inside it. No one else will ever be able to understand it, because no matter how much they might love another person, it won't be the same as this.
That moment where he wants to be outside of this passes, the moment when he thinks he might be able to just stand outside and look at how incredible Spencer is fades, and Joel feels the urgency of his own orgasm crashing back into him. The hand he has on Spencer's hips feels like it's on fire and he doesn't need to see the little sparks of energy going off to know they are, snaps of blue light that only ever seem to come out around Spencer. For a time Joel had wondered if it was some kind of latent power, some untapped quality he's never discovered, and then he had wondered if it was the demon, but now he's sure neither of those things are true. Whatever he has inside him that makes him a witch, whatever gives him these abilities he's had all his life, it responds to Spencer and only Spencer. It doesn't happen all the time, but it no longer surprises him anymore either and it no longer makes him wonder. This is the deepest, most base part of him responding to the man he loves and he doesn't think there's anything more obvious than that.
"Spencer," he says again, dragging his name out before it tapers off into a low moan and he can't help it, he's gripping Spencer's hip harder now, holding onto him tighter as he drives forward once, twice more, his hips snapping instead of rolling, and when he comes it's with a strangled, startled cry that carries on the breeze and he doesn't care. He doesn't care who knows what they're doing, he doesn't care who hears how much he loves his husband, he doesn't care about anything or anyone who isn't this moment or Spencer. His shoulders shudder as his muscles tense and tighten, then release and he whimpers, a low whine in his throat as he gently takes Spencer's leg down from his shoulder so he can wrap it around his waist again and do his best not to collapse forward onto his husband.
He just needs to be a little bit closer. He needs to be able to feel Spencer's pulse fluttering under his lips and Joel's eyes close, his hips rolling lazily a few more times as he brushes kisses across Spencer's heated skin.
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Maybe it's the alcohol flowing through him because he's not typically so arrogant, but Spencer is certain more than ever that nobody could possibly share a love as incredible as passionate as he and Joel do. They've saved each other in so many ways and so many times that one might think it'd be too much, too overwhelming, too much pressure; but it's quite the opposite. Nobody else could have gotten Spencer through his worst moments of the past year, no matter how hard they tried, because none of them would be Joel. As much as he appreciates the people in his life, the genuine and lasting friendships he's made, Spencer appreciates having met Joel the absolute most because it's brought him here.
This relationship, this marriage, this man, they've all influenced change in every facet of Spencer's life without demanding it. Joel would never have asked Spencer to be more social or to leave his job at the library or to do anything that might make him initially uncomfortable. Everything he has done has been his own choice, but Spencer knows he wouldn't have arrived at some of the conclusions he has about life and love in general without his husband there to help him. Being here in New York, for instance, never would have happened if he hadn't had the right person to come here with, and that right person has just send him into a dizzying orgasm that Spencer is still trying to recover from as he rocks against Joel's last few thrusts.
He's lost his ability to make even the smallest of sounds, it seems, and when he feels Joel coming inside of him, Spencer can only keep his jaw dropped as he tries to get his breathing under control, torn between begging out loud for this night to never end and tugging Joel closer to him so they can rest together. Spencer glides his hands expertly down Joel's back, pleased at how easily he's able to do it because of the sweat that's formed there, and he thinks a shower might be necessary for both of them later if they manage to get their legs working at any point. He still hasn't unwrapped himself around Joel's waist, if only because he wants his husband to stay pressed inside him until Joel's cock softens, and Spencer tightens his legs to encourage Joel to roll his hips again.
Every movement makes him shudder, sends a thrill shooting up his spine, and he wishes they could get hard again now because as much as he knows his body will be aching in the morning, Spencer wants to be able to repeat this all over again. After the shower, he thinks, or maybe even in the shower, they can have a second round. He can get down on his knees and suck his husband's cock until it hardens in his mouth and then, Spencer will bend over so Joel can take him again. He can already feel the come dripping from his ass down his thighs, and he doesn't know why that turns him on so much but god, it does, though he supposes it mostly just has to do with Joel.
It always comes back down to Joel.
"Love you," he murmurs, tilting his head to give Joel better access, and it's possibly the most simple thing he could say but it encompasses everything. Joel will know what he means, all that Spencer is feeling, and that's just one more reason that Spencer loves him so much.
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He smiles at the two words Spencer says, by far the best two words Joel has ever heard, and his nose brushes back and forth against Spencer's skin as he tries to figure out whether or not he's capable of speaking in return. He doesn't have to say it, he knows without a doubt Spencer knows just how much he's loved. The words themselves don't always matter, but they feel so good. Both to hear them and say them. There's a strange certain power that comes with them, that comes with knowing not everyone can say them and mean them like this and perhaps that's silly and a little selfish, but Joel likes knowing that what they have is special. It's something not everyone has.
"Love you," he says in return, lifting his head just a little, enough to press a series of kisses along the edge of Spencer's jaw. He's no longer sure if he's drunk or if he's somehow sobered up over the course of the past hour, but whatever the case, he thinks he's at least slightly delirious from everything they've just done and he has to laugh against Spencer's throat. He's warm and extremely sated, but he thinks it'll be best if they don't fall asleep out here. They'll regret it tomorrow when they're sore and cramped, especially if they have hangovers, and he still can't help but think of how nice it would be to get Spencer into the shower. The bathroom in their home is quite nice and he's perfectly happy with it, but this apartment is exceptionally extravagant, like nothing they've had a chance to really enjoy, and he'd like to take advantage of all parts of it before they have to return home.
They're quiet for a time. Long enough that Joel can feel his skin starting to dry, the sweat cooling on his shoulders and at the small of his back, long enough that he can feel himself going soft inside Spencer, which drags another shiver out of him. Long enough that he can feel just how sticky they both really are and he smiles again, then nudges another kiss to Spencer's chin and then his lower lip. "We should go inside," he murmurs, his voice low and he finds his throat hurts a little and wonders just how loud he's really managed to be tonight. Rather than embarrass him, it only makes him grin and he pulls back a bit so he can better see Spencer's face, beautiful as always in the low light on the balcony. The setting they're in is lovely, the balcony itself well decorated and taken care of, their backdrop the Manhattan skyline, but Joel isn't looking at anything but Spencer right now. He's never looking at anything but Spencer.
It's difficult to pull himself any further away than this, but he manages, one hand sliding gently around Spencer's leg, hoping he hasn't cramped up at all from lying on a lounge chair for too long. "Let's go inside," he says and kisses Spencer's mouth again, then the tip of his nose. "And I'll start the shower."
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But in this particular moment, Spencer has never felt more content. All he can do is sigh, releasing any remaining tension that had built in his muscles from tightening from his orgasm, and closes his eyes so he can hone in on every shift of Joel's cock still inside him, every puff of breath from Joel's lips onto his skin, every drip of sweat that lands on his chest. He shivers at the sound of Joel's low voice in his ear and again when his husband starts to pull out of him, groaning when one leg then the other are lowered uselessly back down to the chair. He feels like his limbs have turned to jelly, and he's not entirely certain that he'll be able to make it to the shower on his own; but given an extra minute to recover, Spencer knows the temptation of being under that warm spray of water with his husband's arms wrapped around him, keeping him safe and protected and loved, will be too overwhelming to resist for any reason, much less for being tired.
When he tries to push himself up from the chair, though, it's to no avail, and he collapses onto his back with a short laugh as he runs a hand through his damp hair. "A little sore," he explains, smirking as he arches a brow up at his husband, though it's not just his ass and legs that are the problem. There are still fading bruises on his back that have only been somewhat aggravated from being fucked against the chair and his shoulder, too, has suffered a bit; but there's nothing about the minor pain that troubles him much, he'd expected it. The effects of drinking both Joel's potion and the whiskey have gone a long way in keeping those issues off his mind tonight, and he doesn't intend on letting them worm their way back in now.
"The good kind," he continues, making another attempt at pushing himself up and this time succeeding as he presses a kiss to Joel's lips, more of a firm reassurance that he's fine than anything else. "The kind that I'm going to wake up to tomorrow and desperately want you to recreate before we have to leave." He pauses, pushing out his bottom lip in a playful pout. "Do we really have to leave? Erin can have the baby here, can't she? The living room is big enough, or there's always the tub. Water births have grown a great deal in popularity in recent years."
It's with a conceding groan that he forces himself to get up from the chair, wobbling just a bit because of his unsteady legs and the effects of the alcohol, which have weakened but are apparently still flowing through him just enough to affect his balance, and Spencer grips Joel's arm to keep himself upright as he takes a step forward. There's a slight breeze on the balcony that cools the warm evening air, and Spencer knows that the apartment is air conditioned but he takes one last look over his shoulder at the skyline before they walk through the glass doors.
"I'm never going to forget this night," he says, looking to Joel with a small smile. "What we did, what we're going to do, how you made me feel. How you always make me feel." He brushes his lips over Joel's shoulder, then over the line of his jaw. "I'm not going to forget any of it."
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He can see them here. The two of them. Their baby, whoever he or she turns out to be. He can see them finding a place to open another location of Crossroads and he can see the three of them in Central Park on warm summer days, a toddler running through the grass, chasing after Huxley while Joel and Spencer watch. He can see them dodging pedestrians on the street as they take their child to school, playfully rolling their eyes and shaking their heads at all the tourists, said with that tone of voice as if they hadn't been tourists in this city once upon a time. For someone who's only ever lived in small towns, Joel can see himself disappearing into the crush of people in New York with ease, without anxiety, with the sense of comfort anonymity brings, and he can see them both flourishing here in ways he never would have imagined.
"Aoife won't mind if we just refuse to leave the apartment," he says, returning the smile before he begins to lead Spencer back inside. The breeze is cool, drying the sweat on his skin and he heaves out a satisfied sigh before he closes the door behind them and closes out the sounds of the city below. It's strange to think he could get used to that, too, that constant sound, the blare of horns and the murmuring of traffic. It's not the sort of thing they hear much of back home, but it hasn't bothered Joel once since they've been here, it's dropped into background noise almost immediately and in a way he actually finds rather comforting. There's just so much about this city he loves.
"Here," he says, leading Spencer into the bathroom and sitting him down on a small wooden bench that lines one wall. As with the rest of the apartment, the bathroom is incredible, far more decadent than anything Joel would ever imagine for themselves, but it's a nice treat. There are places to sit, a huge counter with more space than either of them would ever need, and the shower and tub itself are enormous. Outside he had thought a shower might be most appealing, but now that he's faced with the gigantic tub, all the jets, the vast array of bubble options and the fact that there's more than enough room for both of them to lie comfortably, he has a different idea.
Leaning over the tub, he turns on the taps until the water is the right temperature, then puts in the plug and goes through the bottles sitting on the edge until he finds out with a scent that won't be overpowering. Carefully, he dumps some of the product in and watches as the bubbles start to pile up, then he turns and holds his hand out toward Spencer. "Come on," he says. "This will help." He knows his husband has said he's sore in a good way, but Joel wants nothing more than to just make him feel good and he thinks a warm, soothing bath will help.
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There's something about New York that makes him feel like his spirits have been lifted simply by existing here. Maybe it's just being away from Siren Cove, from actually having the chance to leave behind the safety net of home and people who already know them to be here on a private vacation, but Spencer has felt free since the moment they'd stepped off the plane. It's possible, he supposes, that their town itself is what makes him feel like he's shackled in a way, forever chained to a history and past he'll never be disassociated with in spite of how rarely he chooses to discuss it with anyone. A part of the community will always look at him and see the man who might have killed his family and if not that, at the very least, he's the man who was accused of it.
He's the man who'd worked at the library for years until he'd eloped and married the reclusive bookshop owner; he's the man who'd been kidnapped and taken up to the old lighthouse then kidnapped again, like he's cursed somehow to relive old horrors over and over in brand new ways.
But Spencer knows who he really is. He's the man with the husband who loves him, who takes care of him in a way nobody else could, and he watches Joel from the bench--the bench, it's all so excessive in this place and nothing short of what he'd expect of a Coombs residence--with a small, fond smile. That's all it really takes to make him forget how cruel this world can be, just one look at the man before him, because it reminds him that the world isn't so cruel that it would keep him from finding the love of his life. He couldn't have predicted that this would happen, nor would he have wanted to because the surprise of it, of meeting someone and instantly falling for him, has been the best adventure of his life so far.
Soon, they'll be navigating their way through fatherhood and that will be an exciting, incredible thing on its own; but the important thing is that they'll be doing it together, just like they approach everything else. Spencer doesn't waste as much time worrying about what could go wrong anymore, not when there are so many moments passing them by that can be better spent showing Joel that he loves him, and he's in the unique position of being able to do that at nearly all hours of the day. He's lucky, luckier than he thinks he deserves, but he would never give what he and Joel have up for anything. There's nothing in this world that could be more valuable.
"Have I ever told you that I think you should be nominated for sainthood?" he asks as he takes Joel's hand and steps into the tub. The warm water already feels heavenly as he lets his husband help him with slowly lowering himself until the bubbles reach his chest, and Spencer lets out a relieved laugh once they've both settled. "This is perfect. Everything about tonight has been perfect, I don't want it to end."
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Joel leans back against the gentle incline of the tub and he knows he shouldn't be surprised at just how perfect this is for a person to lie in comfortably, but he doesn't think he's ever been in a tub like this before. He hadn't even known they existed and he makes a little mental note to get one like this if they ever feel the need to redo the bathroom. It isn't that he even especially likes being in the bath, but there's nothing he likes quite so much as being able to fully recline and have Spencer lying back against him.
They needed this trip, they needed this night, and Joel closes his eyes, his head still spinning slightly from the alcohol and the heat in the bathroom. He'd read something once about avoiding alcohol when one is in a hot tub, but if they hadn't actually taken heed of that advice while on the cruise, he doesn't imagine them paying attention to it now when they're simply in a warm bubble bath rather than an actual hot tub. Still, the heat is getting to him, making him dizzy in a way he finds entirely delightful and he keeps his eyes closed as he tips his head back and tightens his arms around Spencer. They fit together perfectly, they have right from the beginning, and although there are still times when Joel wishes their first date could have gone like it was supposed to, when it's rare for a week to go by without him feeling a little flash of guilt over the fact that he hadn't just stayed at Spencer's house after they'd been released from the hospital, for the most part he accepts that there's nothing to be done about any of it.
There is never any undoing the past. There's only this, being content and comfortable, having forgiven himself for his part in Spencer's injuries and accepting that this man loves him regardless. There's only going forward, taking care to be exactly the man Spencer deserves now for the rest of his life. Making sure he's safe and loved and never in any danger if Joel is able to prevent it. He tilts his head, nuzzling against Spencer's ear and the side of his neck and then his shoulder before he draws in a deep breath and then lets it out again, completely relaxed, completely satisfied and happier than he's felt in a long time.
A week ago he had been terrified for Spencer, but now they're here. Now they're together and he's going to do everything he can to make sure they stay this way.
"It won't end," he says again, pressing another kiss to Spencer's shoulder. "It won't, because I love you and I'll never stop loving you."