UNEDITED

A year and a half ago.

"It's actually better; I mean, we don't even have to worry about protection. I've got you just the way I like, raw. All sweetness for me, no boundaries."

"But wouldn't you want to feel the way other men your age feel? I know I want to, feel terrible for taking that away from you."

He grunted a mischievous smile graced his bitten lips. They were rosy, glistening from the near-irritation. He'd been employing them for hours. Greed never met ampleness. "What a deep conversation we're having while my cock is kept nice and warm between your walls, Cassie."

It was odd that you both tended to talk more while striving for actions that required silence and perhaps a few prayers that were sure to go unheard. You'd admit that's your guilty pleasure. His too, but he'd deny just to spite you. Jungkook never actually fucked you and never did love to you either, because what he did wasn't named in the Kama Sutra or in erotic books and romance novels, for that matter.

Connection of Souls. You finally found that out during one of the long evenings you spent waiting for him alone. You often caught yourself remembering what happened between you behind the closed door of your bedroom - or apartment, to be frank and fair. What you had, you reckoned, was holy, the sanctity of your love. Hence the connection of your chakras, a way your bodies had found to communicate better, to tell stories of the undiscovered past and dreams of a future still in the making. A prayer in the temple of love.

Your sex never began in the usual way; no foreplay was needed to prepare you, and no more than a single kiss was needed to get him like a rock. It was really weird, for both of you. Something you had never experienced before, something new, profound. You would fuck for hours, to hell the early hour in which you had to wake up; you would be energized regardless of the two meager hours of sleep you had. An offering to the gods who protect your love from the harshness of the world outside your sanctuary.

He'd keep it going, although you came several times without caring about your hypersensitivity, and you weren't one to complain. You even enjoyed, as a matter of fact, how he just couldn't go flaccid unless the fatigue became unbearable. That explains why you like the weekends so much: he gets rejuvenated with a good nap.

That when his phone doesn't ring. That shit was bound to be smashed to the ground one day. By you.

Sex was good; his presence, the warmth of his body against yours, the affection, and the little attentions he gave were all so good. But there's no such thing as perfection. If it's too good, it's certainly unreal.

Sex was good, but it served no purpose other than the one mentioned above. Physical satisfaction.

You were barren, something about lack of follicles resulting in lower fertility. You had managed to have a few pregnancies. Jungkook was overjoyed when he first saw that the Clearblue test was positive. You were a crying mess who couldn't manage to maintain the adult image. It took you longer than other couples to bless your marriage with what would complete it, long enough for hope to diminish with each passing day, but this pregnancy had revived it, only to bury it six feet under just a month later.

It was the first time you saw his tears. When he had held your hand in the cold grip of his larger one, reassuring, albeit the lack of thereof. He said it was all right, that you were enough for each other in all cases, but his eyes were red, the essence of sadness clinging to his lash line, speaking divergent words.

The second miscarriage devasted you more. He had taken ten days off from work to stay by your side and make sure you didn't go crazy in a minute of weakness.

Because you were literally on the verge of going insane.

"I know you like it, your honor."

"Nah," he chuckled slyly, but sweetly, and in a second he had you flipped, stripped of the control you had and always loved to have over your little feats. Through the windows of your soul, he stared. Prisoned stars trapped in the sockets of his eyes that you loved so much you became addicted. The look in his eyes was enough to make you forget. Temporary oblivion, that's a fact, but welcome nonetheless. "I'd rather hear you scream my name instead. It goes much better with your lips."

Indeed, raw it was. So primal that you could feel every detail of his dick, coaxing your dorsal nerve to another rapture. Each time you neared climax, you asked how he felt. Out of curiosity, to show you cared, and he assured you, gripping your hair with that extra vigor that brought just enough pain to mingle with pleasure and become ecstasy, saying: "Heaven; you're my heaven and my hell, Cassie."

Drunk, you felt, and the fact that you hadn't had a drop of alcohol made you doubt your brain's ability to function. You felt shameless and inconsiderate, like a stupid teenager who didn't give a single fuck about the neighbors whose sleep you had disturbed, while you screamed nonsensical words from which the only thing he deciphered was his name.

Long reached was your climax. Attained and creamed equally your thighs and his cock, which still throbbed relentlessly inside you. To make a point, he worked with that extra fidelity, keen to make you scream with him when he would break off yet another time for you.

"I don't want kids if they're not yours." His grip on your throat contrasted with the warmth that pooled in his midnight eyes. You couldn't have seen the way he looked at you if it weren't for the mirror that reflected your image so gloriously. But you felt it. Broad were his shoulders, protective, shielding. His knees sank deep into the mattress, reflecting the posture of a loyal subject. The muscles of his thighs tensed, as did his forearms. Overexertion. You found yourself once again blaming his work that keeps him from showing off the elaborate ink work on his arm, so you decided to admire it instead of those oblivious to its existence, and as your eyes caught sight of your name swimming among the endless waves of mandala in his upper arm, you screamed his yet another time, inking it into your vocal cords for eternity.

"Whatever society makes you think you should give me, Cassie, whatever obligations they put on you, I really don't give a fuck about 'em." Jungkook tilted your jaw with a roughness that overshadowed the hint of gentleness, bringing your eyes to meet his sincere ones to convince you and scare away the poisonous thoughts, "I don't feel different from my peers. In fact, I'm different 'cause Cassie, I'm blessed with the sort of luck they wish they had half of."

Jungkook finally surrendered to pleasure as he delivered his words; potent rapture washing his strength with a wave of weariness that he found similar to heaven. Too much for mere sex, he reckoned. Everything that involved you, your breaths, your touches, your body, was his purpose... the reason to live he had found after living a life where he had none.

Exhausted but satiated, Jungkook leaned back against the headrest after pampering your crimson cheeks with soft kisses, just after he had pressed a longer one to your forehead. God, were you red, rivaling the deep shade of Muleta, for you had exercised more than the matador and the bull combined.

You were tired too, but you saw it, that uneasy feeling that lingered in his stardust eyes.

For days, maybe even months, Jungkook had been hiding his worries behind a smile you didn't know if you liked. You had inquired, tried to find out what was hiding behind the curtains, failed miserably, and decided to let him have the privacy he inwardly requested.

So you promised to enjoy the universe reflected in those inky orbs while it lasted, sensing that its end was drawing closer with each passing day.

To be honest, it took you a very long time to understand his discomfort. He often came home from work in a bad mood, thought it was no different until the few evenings you thought you could wash their sourness with a bottle of Merlot became an every night occurrence and the usual excuse began to seem lame.

But you wouldn't question Jungkook's loyalty. No, you wouldn't. Not when he looked at you as if you were the most precious jewel in the world. A delicacy to be protected and cherished. No, he wouldn't let himself drift with the waves, just to indulge in new oceans. To your shore he was devoted, addicted to the breezy feeling and sweet warmth.

Jungkook would not cheat, you were sure of that.

And you found yourself repeating that assertion as you stroked his damp hair. He wouldn't hear it, or so you thought, for he was asleep, lips parted and breaths deep and relaxed, trusting. You would have told him many things, but you took so long to organize your thoughts that sleep caught up with him before you could speak. But now, resting your elbow on the pillow and propping your head up with it, which allowed you to take him in for all that he was, you began to regret not being as spontaneous as he almost always was with you.

Yeah, regrets. You have regrets.

Or maybe thoughts? Not sure.

You couldn't figure it out, even though you thought about it all night. You slept, but not enough not to be irritated by the sun's rays seeping through the window. The lack of sleep made you feel like the world was mocking you, including the birds, and if Jungkook hadn't put his arm around you at some point during the night and reminded you that you were loved, appreciated, you would have hurled a few expletives at the ringing alarm clock.

You wished it was the weekend, would have turned a blind eye on the weather, let it slip from your grasp despite the rarity of the event, and basked in your husband's embrace. He was warmer, comforting as the sun, but a brighter star in his own way. But shit, it was only Tuesday; you had to work, Jungkook too.

"Love, wake up. It's seven; common,don't be lazy."

But lazy was a synonym that was very close to Jungkook. He always found it harder than you to wake up, which made the breakfast task fall in your care. And today was no different. You left him in bed, sure that he wouldn't wake up until the smell of coffee drifted into the bedroom from across the kitchen.

You waited, and fifteen minutes or more later, you heard the sound of the shower's sonata hitting each tile. While waiting, the clouds obscured the bright sun that promised peachy feelings, and absentmindedly you caught yourself thinking how quickly the weather changes, how it covers some sides under others, how similar it was to you.

Fortunately, when Jungkook started showering, he wouldn't come out until he had spent twenty minutes inside something about readying up for the great battle that was his day. So you were able to stand in front of the window and make the call you wished you had made earlier.

"Stay behind the wheel. I want you ready in twenty."

"On it, Cass."

Quickly, you hung up, hid the phone, moved toward the stove, and took the pan back with you to the table. There are three things Jungkook needs to wake up properly: Sex, coffee and eggs. He couldn't have the first due to the time he wasted sleeping, the remaining two were a most.

"Aren't you going to tell me what's been going on lately?" You asked him with a loving look, reaching out to feed him a bite of crispy bacon.

"What do you want me to say, Cassie?" Jungkook began as he considered what to say first, if he spoke at all: "The heft of work is heaving on me; sitting behind the judicial panel has lost its luster."

"Maybe you should take some time off; let's go somewhere. A vacation."

Jungkook laughed, and with the sound of it, you fell in love. Airy, like a spring breeze against cotton. Healing balm for the wounds. "As if you could leave the library even for a day. Don't get me started, please."

It was true. You never closed the library; even on weekends you opened it for a few hours in the afternoon. No reproach; the library was something you kept from the grasp of a life that only knew how to take from you; those four walls gave you a name; respectful dignity. No, you couldn't go a day without opening the quiet place to the few loyal customers who came to delve into the comfort of paper and some ink, not even when Jungkook was staring at you with leering looks that you would normally give in to. But no, not today. Not this morning, when he was late, and so were you.

So you got up and tried to tempt him to drop you off before he left for court. "I would have sacrificed myself, but apparently, you don't deserve it. Move it, you owe me a ride."

"By all means, Cass. By all means, my love."

Flirty was Jungkook when you had just met; sure, he got stricter over time, but that comes with being an adult. Nevertheless, Jungkook always made sure to dress up in seriousness when going to work, but when he came home, he was back to being the Jungkook who had made one or more poor decisions, wearing hoodies that smelled like musk and pine, which was the only thing that reminded you of the slight change that had taken place during those years; back then, his hoodies also smelled like stale tobacco.

The clouds that had covered the sun turned into tyrants, aggressors who had driven it out and taken its place. Gray, ready to cry before the judges, although they were the first to strike the first blow.

It was after the goodbye kiss you gave Jungkook when he dropped you off, that you took time to reminisce about the weather. And after looking at the sky for almost ten entire minutes, you decided it was time you head to work.

Work is a big word, because your daily schedule consisted only of sitting behind your mahogany desk, impatiently waiting for a client or your phone to ring.

Sometime later, the latter came first.

"What is it, Shadow?"

"He's not a work, but that's not the problem. The issue here is where he is right now, Cass."

"What do you mean?"

"He's digging deep. Our vicinities, to be exact."

There was silence after The Shadow's words. It was awkward, even though you yourself are a woman of a few words. You needed time to think about a solution, but unfortunately, time was never patient.

"Keep an eye on him around the clock until further instructions. And ah- Shadow, safety first. In other words: I don't want him to get a scratch."

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