He moves slowly, his lips pressed against your neck, his hands joined with yours beside your head when he finally slides into you. This moment, six years in the making is as emotionally intense as you’ve imagined it would be. You gasp at the sensation, shuddering as you hear him do the same. It means so much more, knowing this is a first for both of you. 

You close your eyes, letting memories of years ago flood to the forefront. Memories of being young and naïve, so in love that you’d begged him to fuck you this way. The thought had never occurred to want it with anyone else, but with Brian, you were so blind to the possibility of anything happening to you as long as you were in his arms. No harm, no hurt, no ill-fated sickness would dare touch you as long as he was there to protect you. He told you no and kept you safe, the voice of reason when you were too awestruck to think of what ifs and consequences for your actions.

This time is different, though, everything planned by Brian himself, down to every last detail. Three months, timed perfectly from the day you packed your bags and came back to him. That was the day he devoted himself to fucking only you, and you promised the same to him. For you, it was merely life as usual since you’d long been monogamous to Brian, even if he didn’t know it. When you left the Pitts, you’d made a silent pact to yourself. Your heart and body would always belong to Brian Kinney and the thought of sharing it with anyone else suddenly seemed wrong somehow. It was that commitment that kept you focused through the rough times between visits, knowing the day would come when you’d be back in his arms, back in his bed for good.

You never asked him if there were still tricks filling the void when you weren’t around, but really, you decided after your non-wedding, that it wasn’t as important to you as you thought it was. You know Brian loves you and that means so much more than the nameless, faceless men ever could. You own his heart and that’s the part of him you’d always longed to have, the part he didn’t share with anyone else. The three months when you knew there was no one else but you, he didn’t say a word. No complaints, no backroom withdrawals and you toyed with the thought that maybe, just maybe, his life of tricking had also been over a long time ago. He’d probably never admit it, but one day, you plan to ask him. Sometime when you’re old and gray and the status he held as the Stud of Liberty Avenue is nothing but a distant memory. 

Right now, all that’s important is the feel of his body inside of yours, the naked flesh causing sensations equal to what you imagine heaven must feel like. It shouldn’t make such a difference, not having that thin, almost non-existent piece of latex between you, but somehow, it makes all the difference in the world. 

Or maybe… it’s not even the act itself that means so much. You decide when you feel the moisture on your cheek from a tear you couldn’t hold back, that in fact, it’s not the fucking at all. It’s the romantic gesture of a room lit by candles and take-out on the floor that touched you. It’s the words that were spoken, leading you to another level in a relationship that’s lasted far beyond anyone’s expectations. It’s the promises he whispered to love, honor and cherish you… to keep you safe from harm, forsaking all others. The only witnesses to your own private ceremony… the vows meaning more to you than they ever would in a room full of people.

It’s the unfamiliar feel of the band he placed around your finger, rubbing against your skin as he squeezes your hand in his own. 

It’s knowing that you’re home, and you’re loved and that you’ll never, ever leave him again. 

The tears are for knowing you belong to each other till death do you part.