The Mistake That Broke Me

Epilogue

Song: Right Here by Ashes Remain

A/N: Author's note after this epilogue!

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The pillow hit his face, the intended target. He gave me a pointed look, mouth drawn in a straight line as he sat on the bed next to me. He was shirtless, so I had a nice view of his body and couple tattoos he had. Scars he wore, but he no longer thought much about them.

He smirked at me as he crawled on top of me, caging me between his arms. I playfully swatted at his chest, laughing when he suddenly dug his fingers in my armpits. I squirmed and squealed, trying to get out of his hold.

"S-stop! Colton!" I gasped, giggling as he suddenly grabbed my sides. I'm very ticklish there. "I'll h-hit you with a pillow a-again!"

He chuckled as his assault came to a stop. He sat back on his knees, watching me as I caught my breath. "That was fun." He says with a boyish smile.

"You little rodent, now it's your turn." I lunge at him, laughing as he willingly lets me pin him down to make me feel like I've won. I grab his sides, but much to my disappointment, he doesn't laugh.

He looks at me with a sly grin.

I narrow my eyes at him before moving my hands to his armpits. I attempt to tickle them, but he just chuckles in victory because he's not ticklish. He has a triumphant look on his face and I intend to wipe it off.

I growl in frustration, and in my last, desperate attempt, I grab his thighs.

He squeals.

In fact, it sounded very much like a pony.

I smile deviously as he tries to wriggle away from me. His legs shoot out and he tries to kick me off of the bed. But his attempts were futile, instead, they merely bumped me, not enough to stop me from giving him pay back.

"Addison!" He exclaims, "T-that tickles, s-stooop!" He squeals before bursting into loud, deep laughter. I laugh, too, enjoying this simple moment. I laugh until my sides ache and I'm panting.

Deciding I've tortured him enough, I let my arms rest in my lap as I gaze at the aftermath. He's breathing loudly, a smile smeared across his face.

Then he launches himself at me, tackling me again and kissing me on the forehead as he pins me down. "You missed." I say, smirking.

He smiles before devouring my lips in a kiss, in which I return eagerly. An entire year has passed, and we have grown quite comfortable around each other. With every day that passes, the more the attraction forms between him and I. Desire has been huge, both of us ready to break boundaries but still too timid to do so.

It seems more natural now, though. Our feelings, our healing, our desire. Desire for the brighter future that is upon us, desire for each other.

Even now, as he lays me down in the bed and kisses me, I can't help but want more. I know he does, too, but it's such a scary thing for us both.

But this time, I know we're ready.

Our movements were clumsy, shaky, unsure. Trust was given and that same trust was shared as I let him attack me in kisses. It had been so long since I'd let someone willingly touch me like this, and for the first time in a long time, my skin didn't tingle with unwanted desire or sour memories.

It was just him and I, dancing with each other in a tangle of passion and love.

His hands were shaky as they gently tangled themselves in my hair, his eyes on fire as he looked at me.

I didn't know what was going through his own mind, I wish I did. He seemed hesitant just as I was, but his eyes told of a different story. A story of desire, but he gave me a questioning look, licking his lips in anticipation.

"Are you okay?" We ask each other at the same time.

I laugh. "Only if you are."

"I am. I don't want things to go too fast-"

"Neither do I. I want this to be smooth for us both, I want it to be meaningful, I want to be able to pay attention to any alarm bells that tells one of us to stop, that's why I'm afraid that if we get too lost, we might ruin each other." I explained. I mean, there were genuine concerns for us both. We both wanted this but that didn't take away those small traces of worry in our minds.

I trusted him, he trusted me. 

And it was a beautiful thing.

"We will go slow," He agreed, "And if you're uncomfortable at any time, tell me."

I nodded. "And you tell me, too, if you need to stop."

He smirked at me, before sinking back down against me, breathing against my neck as he placed soft kisses there. "I love you." He whispered.

I rested my hand on the back of his head, grinning till my cheeks hurt. "I love you too."

His lips met my own once more, and it was then I let my hands wander. I felt each bump, each ridged scar against the palms of my hands as I ran them up and down his back, arms, and chest. Goosebumps shot down my spine when his teeth gently nicked my earlobe. 

His own hands slide beneath my shirt gently, letting them close around my waist. His warm hands made me shiver and an ache settled deep within my core as they traveled to the curve of my waist, then the ridges of my ribs. Delicately, gently, with tender love we handled each other. He let his body sink lower, where he kissed and nibbled my collarbone.

He looked up at me, tugging on the hem of my shirt as if begging to continue. When I nodded, I let him take my shirt off, leaving me in my bra. I felt awkward, embarrassed, even. I had always been more of the modest type - I didn't care to boast my cleavage or body in in way.

I closed my eyes, feeling my face turn red. He simply chuckled and crawled back on me, stripping himself of his own shirt before doing so. "You're beautiful." He says. I smile as he kisses me softly, letting his hands wander to my cleavage.

He seemed a bit awkward with his movements, too, and I am glad I'm not the only one who felt the same.

I think he didn't know exactly what he was doing - he had explained to me that he had never had consensual sex and was worried that he wouldn't please me.

But it was okay, I understood and I loved him just the way he is.

Time passed, we were too wrapped in the increasing desire to even realize so. Things moved at a slow pace, and I truly felt loved as he took the time to shower me in kisses. Nakedness followed, the beauty of our imperfect, scarred bodies clashed together in an outward proclamation of our love. Heat spread through my body, and I draped my arms around him, almost hugging him as he moved.

This wasn't sex merely for pleasure. It wasn't cold or detached. It wasn't unwanted or unnecessary. No, it was something much different. It wasn't the sex him and I have known - this spoke of love, a deep love, and it is producing the very same love that is helping the both of us heal.

Together, we are a beautiful, broken mess who would conquer the world together.

Together, we are one.