★ 요약 - in which, your husband James comes home to surprise you and the kids after 1 year of military service
warnings .ᐟ MDNI: fluff, angst ( if u squint ), smut, breeding kink, breeding ( the making of your 3rd child ), dom! james, height and size difference kink, prone bone, cowgirl, war scars, lieutenant james.
a/n : brooo i thought the cover picture was real… anyways this is messy/ a little over dramatic but i suck at writing people past their 20s istg. this came from a request, i’m so sorry if it’s ass 😭 lmk
™ taglist : @jakeycakeys @justpassingdontworry @crypticscarrift @ja4hyvn @taelvvrzz @heejakexx68 @kienhawon @jinniepilled @eczlipse @sonyui @seokiify @iuuuugdh @jjamiesmess @seonghwaswifeuuuu @ave-encoer @wxnizz @cupcakeangel9 @yuudaiinhs @lcvemonth @acaibowl37 @jjujjukeukeu @bananabread785 @beomchuu2 @miles4eva
Like the earth turning through seasons it can’t share with the sky, you waited.
Time learned to limp through the house, dragging its boots across quiet floor, while you waited and waited, and waited, changing shape in his absence but never direction.
And now, curled into a small ball on the garden bench, your eyes fixed on the silver glow of the moon, you were like a child, wrapped in a soft blanket that did absolutely nothing but provide the illusion of comfort, convincing yourself that the sounds of the house settling were the sounds of his footsteps.
It felt terribly dramatic to mourn the presence of someone who wasn’t even dead, like the body remembering a phantom limb, you kept reaching for what was still technically there in the world, just not here with you, measuring time in letters and photographs and forgetting the sound of his voice.
The night air was cold on new year’s day, but the chill inside yout ran much deeper.
A year. A whole year without James.
You had just tucked the kids into bed - Nabi, now 3, who barely remembered what it felt like to have her daddy lift her onto his shoulders (not that she could even remember what she ate that morning), and Eunwoo, 6, who still asked about him every night with that hopeful little voice, thinking he’d come out of the dark hallway to read him a bedtime story.
You told them about their father like he was some distant hero in a fairytale, following your psychiatrist’s advice to not let your suffering show too much, you acted detached, made him sound bigger than absence, softer than memory, almost perfect in the way only people who are gone are allowed to be.
And they listened, because that version of him was easier to hold than the one you carried alone, the one in which everyday you were scared you’d receive a call announcing he had been struck by an enemy missile on the battlefield.
But the truth was harder.
The house felt too big without him.
The mornings were the worst, waking up alone, reaching across cold sheets for a husband who wasn’t there, you told yourself that certainly people had it much worse, like for example the people in said battle field, and that was about as much of numbing you could do on yourself.
You had carried it all: the school runs, the nightmares, the tantrums, the doctor visits, the endless questions you didn’t always know how to answer.
“Mommy, if i close my eyes does the world turn off?” Eunwoo had asked one day.
So many milestones had passed without James, you’d watched Nabi take her first preschool steps alone, her tiny hand waving goodbye at the gate while you fought back tears. Eunwoo scored his first ice hockey goal and scanned the sidelines with searching eyes, his smile fading when he realized daddy wasn’t there to cheer.
You’d tried to communicate the moment with accuracy in a long detailed letter, telling James about the whole practice and how you’d taken him for ice cream after, but nothing beat the sight of him being physically present. James would always write back expeditiously -when he could-, he loved to read about your days, about how the kids were doing, and he’d always ask questions - focusing on you three - as if him being at actual war wasn’t all that worth talking about.
Birthdays came and went with half-hearted celebrations, you blew out candles for them, took the photos, and saved slices of cake in the fridge like James might magically appear to eat them.
The emptiness carved itself into your bones.
Evenings like this, after the kids were asleep, you’d slip out to the garden, staring up at the moon and stars, wondering if wishes were real and not a stupid made up thing, if you could just talk to a star and ask it to bring your husband home safe.
You missed everything about him.
The way his laugh rumbled low in his chest when he pulled you close, the smell of soap and faint engine grease that clung to his shirts when he’d fix your car for the third time in a month, the quiet way he’d say your name before going to sleep, one hand on your cheek. The forehead kisses whenever he was proud of you, or whenever you smiled, really. The constant endless praising, like you were the most perfect being on earth…
The occasional video calls and letters helped, but they were thin shadows o the real thing. They couldn’t warm your bed or chase away the loneliness that settled in your heart like frost. You felt stretched thin, holding the family together while a piece of you stood frozen, waiting for him.
The bench was cold, and the house disgustingly unfamiliar.
James moved quietly up the garden path, duffel bag long thrown on the floor of the living room, heart pounding with anticipation.
He had planned this surprise for weeks, getting released early, flying through the night, slipping home on new year’s day without a word.
He wanted to see your face light up, to wrap you in his arms and finally feel whole again, so much so that he felt tears of pure anticipation tickle his eyes.
God, I’ve missed her, he thought, a tired smile tugging at his lips. I’ve missed my wife. My kids.
The smile died instantly.
You looked so small, shaking with silent sobs, face tilted to the sky like you were begging the universe for something dear.
The blanket that was wrapped around you did nothing against the cold, and your shoulders heaved with a pain he could feel from ten feet away. His chest tightened like a vice, all the joy of his homecoming shattering into sharp guilt, the one he knew he shouldnt feel, but did regardless. In that moment he wished he didn’t love his job so much, so he could retire and spend all his days by your side like a direct attachment of your body.
No. Not like this. He rushed forward, boots crunching on the gravel.
You startled at the noise, head snapping up, eyes wide and red-rimmed, and for a second, you didn’t believe it, it was another cruel dream probably. A hallucination provoked by the lack of actual sleep.
But he was real, solid, moving fast toward you with that familiar stride, face etched with worry.
And you thought you were going to faint from how confused you were.
“James…?” Your voice cracked, barely a whisper, shock freezing you in place.
He reached you in seconds, dropping to his knees in front of the bench. “Baby, it’s me. I’m here.”
His hands trembled as they cupped your tear-streaked face, thumbs brushing away the wetness. Up close, he saw every line exhaustion, every night you’d spent missing him. It gutted him.
“I came to surprise you… but seeing you like this- fuck, I’m so sorry.”
You gasped, a raw, broken sound, and threw yourself into him, your arms locking around his neck like you were terrified he’d vanish. He caught you hard, pulling you off the bench and into his lap on the cold ground, holding you so tight it almost hurt. His uniform jacket smelled of travel and him, and you buried your face in his neck, sobbing uncontrollably now.
“You’re really here,” you choked out, fingers clutching his shoulders.
James’s own eyes burned with tears he didn’t fight. He rocked you gently, one hand stroking your hair, the other pressed against your back like he could fuse you to him. “I know, my love, i know. I’m here now, it’s okay…”
You pulled back just enough to stare at him, hands framing his thinner face, tracing the new lines of exhaustion around his eyes.
The shock still hadn’t faded, your husband, your James, kneeling in the garden, the one he hadn’t been in in months, like he’d stepped out of your prayers.
“Why…. why? What happened ? you were supposed to come home in a few months.”
He leaned in, forehead against yours, breath mingling in the cold air. “I know, it was a surprise my love, i’m sorry” His voice broke as he kissed you, desperate, salty with tears, and he apologized for a reason he didn’t even know of.
"I missed you so much," he murmured, his voice breaking. "My beautiful, sweet girl... God, I missed you."
He pulled back just enough to cup your face in his large, calloused hands, his brown eyes searching yours with such raw intensity that it made your heart ache. His thumbs traced the path of your tears, wiping them away with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with his imposing size.
"I couldn't take another day without you," he whispered against your lips, his voice thick and gravelly with emotion. "This past year felt like a lifetime. I was losing my mind, baby. All I could think about was getting back to my wife. Getting back to you."
He pulled back just an inch, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. He looked so much larger in person than he did on a screen his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the world, his massive frame creating a private sanctuary just for the two of you. He looked down at your trembling hands, then back up at your face, his expression softening into something so tender it ached.
"You've been so strong, haven't you? Taking care of Eunwoo, taking care of Na Na... taking care of everything while I was gone," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with possessive reverence. He leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if he were trying to memorize enough of your scent to sustain him for the next decade. “Thank you my sweet girl… thank you. I’ll take care of you now, okay?”
He squeezed you tighter, his large hands splayed across your back, pulling you so flush against his chest that you could feel the frantic, heavy thud of his heart racing to match your own. He felt so solid, so warm, so undeniably real.
"I'm never letting you go again," he promised, a low, fierce vow that vibrated through his chest and into yours. "I'm home, my love. Really home."
You let out a shaky, broken laugh, the kind that comes when you’re so overwhelmed you don't knows whether to scream or cry.
He’s actually here. He’s not a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation.
You tightened your grip on his uniform, your knuckles turning white as you tried to ground yourself in the solid warmth of his body.
"You know that if you do, I'll follow you anywhere," you whispered, pulling back just enough to search his eyes, your voice still thick with lingering sobs. You reached up, your fingers trembling as you brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, realizing just how much he had changed since the last time you saw him.
"James... the kids... they're still asleep, they're going to wake up and think they're dreaming when they see you." A small, watery smile finally touched your lips as you leaned in to press your forehead against his one more time. You imagined the moment they’d see their dad, the screams of pure joy, or maybe tears? But they were little, they needed their sleep, or at least that’s what you told yourself. "Can we just stay here for a moment? Just you and me.”
James let out a low, shaky breath that was half laugh, half sob at your words. The fierce, protective heat in his eyes softened, melting into a look of pure, unadulterated adoration. When you promised to follow him anywhere, he felt a surge of possessiveness so strong it made his chest ache; he wanted to wrap you in his arms and never let the world touch you again.
"We can, baby," he murmured, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly register that always made your skin tingle. "Once I get you back in our bedroom, i'm not letting you out of my sight for a week. You're stuck with me."
As you mentioned the children, a flicker of warmth crossed his face, but he didn't pull away. He didn't want to move. The thought of Eunwoo and Na Na was a beautiful ache in his heart, but right now, his entire universe was narrowed down to the woman in his arms, the woman that’d given him the whole world in the palms of her small hands.
He loved his children more than life itself, but they were a part of his soul, you were his heart.
So he didn't even hesitate. He shifted his weight, adjusting his large frame so he could pull you even more securely into the cradle of his lap, shielding your smaller body from the biting night air with his sheer mass. He tucked your head under his chin, his large hand splaying across the small of your back, pressing you firmly against the hard, muscular planes of his chest.
“We can stay as long as you want, my love," he whispered, his lips brushing the top of your head. "We shouldn’t mess up their sleep schedule anyway… i’ll go check on them later without waking them up.”
He closed his eyes, breathing you in the scent of your shampoo, the warmth of your skin, the reality of your presence. He felt a heavy, desperate need to just exist in this stillness with you, to let the adrenaline of his arrival settle into the profound, soul deep intimacy he had been starving for. He began to rock you almost imperceptibly, a slow, soothing motion, his thumb tracing rhythmic, hypnotic circles against your spine, like he would a few years ago, when he’d just met you and you were still so hurt by life and its hardships, but that’s a story for another time.
"Just us," he breathed, his voice a low vibration you could feel deep in your own bones. "Just you and me, sweet girl. Finally."
The silence of the garden was heavy, but it wasn't lonely anymore. James filled all its corner with his presence, his heartbeat thudding against your ear and the soft, rhythmic friction of his thumb against your spine. Every time he called you sweet girl or my love, it felt like he was stitching back together both of your bodies.
James tightened his hold slightly, his nose nuzzling into the soft hair at your temple. He was acutely aware of how much smaller you felt in his arms compared to when he’d left. It wasn't just the physical difference; it was the weight of the year you’d carried alone. He felt a surge of that familiar, protective possessiveness, a primal urge to shield you from every hardship you’d faced while he was halfway across the world.
"You're so warm," he murmured, his voice sounding thick, as if he were still fighting back his own tears. "I forgot how much you warm me up.”
His gaze dropped to your lips, and his expression shifted, the soft husband momentarily eclipsed by the man who had been craving his wife with a need that bordered on madness. He reached up, his large, calloused hand cupping your cheek, his thumb dragging slowlys across your lower lip.
"I'm gonnaa check on them in a little bit," he promised, his voice dropping an octave, becoming a low, commanding rumble. "But once they're fast asleep...." He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver racing down your spine. "I'm gonna remind you exactly who you belong to. I've missed you so much it hurts, baby. I need to feel you.”
He didn't wait for an answer before capturing your lips in a kiss that was no longer just about comfort. It was deep, slow, and devastatingly passionate, tasting of salt and longing, as if he wer trying to drink you in, to make up for every second of the year he’d spent without your taste on his tongue.
His large hand slid from your cheek to the nape of your neck, his thick fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head back, deepening the angle, forcing you to take all of him. He groaned low in his throat a raw, vibrating sound of pure want that you felt more than heard, a sound that rumbled through his massive chest and into yours.
He was so much bigger than you, so much more than the space you were used to occupying.
He pulled back just a fraction, his lips still brushing yours, his breath coming in heavy, uneven hitches. His eyes were dark, blown wide with a sort of heat that made your heart hammer against your ribs.
"God, you taste so good," he rasped, his voice sounding wrecked, stripped of all its usual composure. "I used to close my eyes in that tent and try to remember this. Try to remember how you feel in my arms."
His hands, calloused and strong, slid down from your neck to your waist, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your clothes, pulling you so tight against him that there wasn't a single inch of air left between your bodies. He wanted you to feel the hard line of his thighs, the frantic thud of his heart, the physical evidence of how much he’d been missign you.
He began to trail kisses down your jawline, his stubble - that was new and you totally liked it - grazing your sensitive skin, before burying his face in the crook of your neck. He inhaled sharply, his nose nuzzling the pulse point there, where he could feel your life force racing. "I need to memorize you all over again... every inch of my pretty girl."
He nipped at the soft skin of your neck, a playful yet hungry gesture that made your toes curl in the grass. "You’re gonna be good f’me baby?" he whispered against your skin, his voice dropping into that dark, slightly condescending, deeply affectionate tone he used when he was ready to take control. "I'm going to make sure you can't think about anything but me for a long, long time. You hear me? You're mine. Every single part of you."
He lifted his head, his gaze locking onto yours, intense and unyielding. "Now, let's get you inside before I lose my mind.”
A breathless, shaky laugh escaped your lips, part sob and part pure want as you clung to his broad shoulders.
He’s back, and he’s more dangerous than the man who left, you thought, your heart racing in sync with the heavy thrum of his pulse.
You leaned back just enough to look him in the eye, your fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw, your touch lingering on the stubble that grazed your skin. "Then don't make me wait," you whispered, your voice trembling with a boldness you didn't know you still possessed.
You stood up slowly, though you didn't let go of him, instead lacing your fingers with his and tugging him gently toward the back door of the house. "Go check on them, James... go make sure they're asleep. Because once you close that door, I don't want you being a gentleman anymore."
A dark, grin spread across James’s face at your challenge, his eyes flashing with a heat that promised you wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight. The "gentleman" was indeed gone, replaced by the man who had spent three hundred and sixty five days dreaming of nothing but the scent of your skin and the sound of your voice calling his name.
He squeezed your hand, his grip firm and possessive, before leaning down to press one final, bruising kiss to your lips a promise of what was to come before letting you go. He watched you walk toward the house, his gaze heavy and lingering on the sway of your ass, his throat working as he swallowed hard.
He had to compose himself; he had to be the steady, quiet father for just a few more minutes before he could be the man who worshipped his wife.
James moved through the darkened hallway like a shadow, his footsteps silent despite his large frame. He slipped into the children's room first, the air smelling of lavender and laundry detergent you used. He stood in the doorway for a long moment, his heart swelling with a bittersweet ache as he watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Eunwoo’s chest and the tiny, peaceful silhouette of Nabi curled up in her blankets. He leaned down, pressing a silent, lingering kiss to each of their foreheads, his eyes stinging with the reality of being finally home.
He retreated from the room, moving with a singular, burning purpose. He checked the locks, dimmed the lights, and finally, he stepped into the master bedroom.
The door clicked shut behind him a soft, final sound that felt like a starting gun.
James didn't even bother to take off his jacket before he was moving toward you. The air in the room felt thick, charged with the electricity of his arrival and the unbridled tension that had been building in the garden. He didn't stop until he had you backed against the edge of the bed, his body engulfing yours, his hands coming up to frame your face with a sudden, fierce intensity.
"The kids are dead to the world," he whispered, his breath hot and ragged against your lips, his hazel eyes burning into yours with a hunger that was almost frightening. He leaned in, his heavy weight pressing you back into the mattress, his large hands sliding down to grip your waist, pulling you so tight against his hard, muscular frame that you could feel the frantic rhythm of his heart through his shirt.
As you spoke, your voice was a soft, trembling thing in the quiet of the bedroom, a stark contrast to the heavy energy radiating from him. You told him how Nabi had spent so many nights sitting by the door, waiting for a sound that never came, her little face crumpled in confusion when she asked why Daddy wasn't coming home for her birthday or for her favorite stories. You told him how Eunwoo had grown so much, how he was trying so hard to be the "man of the house" to help you, his little shoulders squared in a way that broke your heart because he was only six.
James’s expression shifted as he listened. He looked like a man who had just been handed the most precious, fragile gift in the world.
"She missed me..." he murmured, his voice cracking as he thought of his little girl’s lonely face. He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his breath shuddering against your skin. "And Eunwoo... my brave little man. God, y/n, they've been so good to you, haven't they? They've been so brave."
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumbs wiping away a fresh stray tear that had escaped your eye. His gaze was intense, filled with a mix of guilt and a fierce, overwhelming pride.
"You've been carrying all of them," he whispered, his voice dropping into that low, praising register that made you feel like the center of the universe. “You're incredible, baby. Do you hear me? My sweet, perfect girl. You've done such a good job."
He let out a heavy, ragged sigh, the weight of the year finally settling into a different kind of tension one that was no longer about sadness, but about a desperate, driving need to make up for every lost moment. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his large hands sliding down from your face to grip your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with a possessive strength.
He nipped at your bottom lip, his eyes darkening until the hazel was almost swallowed by black. "No more being the brave one, my love. No more being the strong one …. just let me take care of you. Let me remind you that you’re not alone anymore."
He moved then, his large hands sliding under the hem of your shirt, his warm, calloused palms meeting your skin like a brand. "I'm going to make you forget everything okay?," he promised, his voice a dark, velvet caress against your ear. "I'm going to fill you with so much of me that you'll never feel empty again."
As his hands slid upward, tracing the curve of your ribs, James paused. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression shifting from raw hunger to something deeply, intensely intimate. A slow, lopsided smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth the look he gave you when he was feeling particularly bold, particularly possessive.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to a gravelly, intimate murmur that sent a fresh wave of heat through your entire body.
"You know," he breathed, his teeth grazing your earlobe, "seeing how much Na Na missed her daddy...." He paused, letting the weight of his next words hang in the heavy air of the bedroom. "It makes me think we should give her something to look forward to. Something to keep her busy when she’s older."
He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, burning with a mixture of adoration and a very specific, primal intent. He didn't just want to love you; he wanted to claim you, to weave his very essence into the fabric of your lives once again.
You were listening, not very present but rather busy caressing his - much bigger - biceps, but you still had one ear out. The truth is, as much as James loved to see you pregnant, you also did. You loved being a mom, carrying his babies, juggling between work and the kids…
But only when he was home was it easy.
"A little brother or sister for her," he whispered, his hand sliding down to rest heavily, possessively, over your lower stomach. The heat of his palm through the fabric of your clothes felt like a promise. "Someone else to fill this house with laughter. A piece of you and a piece of me, growing inside you."
His gaze darkened, the wish to - there’s no other way to say it- breed you he had always carried so quietly now rising to the surface of his consciousness, fueled by a year of starvation. He wasn't just talking about a family; he was talking about the ultimate act of devotion, the ultimate way to tether himself fo you forever.
"I want to fill you so full of me that you can't even remember what it felt like to be alone," he growled, his voice thick with a sudden, desperate need.
He didn't wait for you to find your breath, he surged forward, his mouth crashing against yours in a kiss that was no longer just passionate it was a vow. It was a promise of a future, of more life, more love, and a night that would be so intense, so deeply consuming, that the memory of your loneliness would be burned away by the force of his devotion.
A soft, broken sound escaped your throat at his words, a mixture of a gasp and a sob as the sheer weight of his intention settled in your bones.
A sibling... he wants to plant a new life in the middle of the wreckage of this year, you thought, your heart swelling so painfully it felt like it might burst.
You reached up, your hands trembling as they slid into the thick hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer until there was no space left for even a breath between you.
"Then don't just talk about it, James," you whispered against his lips, your eyes searching his dark, hungry gaze with a fierce, desperate hunger of your own. "Show me."
The challenge in your voice was the final thread to snap his restraint, as surprising as it felt for you. A low, feral growl erupted from deep in his chest a sound of pure, unadulterated triumph. He had spent a year living in the quiet, in the stillness of barracks and the hollow silence of night watches, and you had just given him permission to shatter it all.
"Such a good girl, you haven’t changed one bit," he rasped, his voice sounding like crushed velvet and gravel.
He didn't waste another second, with a sudden, fluid strength that reminded you exactly of the soldierw he was, he hooked his arms under your thighs and hoisted you up. You let out a small cry of surprise, your legs instinctively wrapping around his broad waist, pulling him into the cradle of your hips.
He lowered you onto the soft sheets, but he didn't let you go, he followed you down, his frame looming over you, a dark and beautiful shadow that completely eclipsed the room. He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, his grip firm and commanding, while his other hand traveled downward, tracing the line of your body with a frantic, worshipful intensity.
"Look at you," he murmured, his gaze sweeping over you as if he were seeing you for the very first time. His eyes were blown wide, dark with a hunger that was almost frightening in its depth. "So beautiful. So mine. You have no idea how many times I closed my eyes and imagined this.”
He leaned down, his chest pressing against yours, the hard muscle of his torso a delicious contrast to your softness. He began to pepper your skin with biting, hungry kisses your throat, the swell of your breasts, the sensitive dip of your waist each one a mark, a claim.
James shifted, his weight settling between your thighs, his gaze locking onto yours with a fierce, singular purpose. The man who had been your protector, your husband, and your best friend was gone; in his place was a man driven by a need to recreate the life you had built together.
"Tell me you want it," he commanded softly, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip, his eyes burning into yours. "Tell me you need it, sweet girl.”
The air in the room was so thick with tension it felt like it could be tasted heavy, sweet, and electric. Your heart was a frantic bird trapped in your chest, hammering against your ribs as you looked up into those brown eyes, which had turned into dark, molten pools of desire. The command in his voice, that low, gravelly authority, stripped away every last layer of your hesitation.
You didn't just want him; you were starving for him. You needed the weight of him to anchor you, the heat of him to burn away the frost of the last twelve months.
"I want it," you gasped, your voice breaking as you arched your back, pressing yourself instinctively into the hard, muscular planes of his body. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him down, desperate to close the microscopic gap between you. "I need you, James. Please..., please.”
A dark, triumphant sound half groan, half growl vibrated through his entire frame. The way you said his name, with such raw, unshielded vulnerability, seemed to snap the last of his control.
"That's my girl," he murmured, his voice thick and heavy with a sudden, overwhelming possessiveness. "That's my beautiful, perfect wife."
He released your wrists, but only so he could cup your face with both of his large, calloused hands, forcing you to look at him, to truly see the man who was about to claim you. His thumbs traced the line of your cheekbones before sliding down to your jaw.
“makes me want to leave you so full of me that you can't even walk straight tomorrow."he whispered, his eyes raking over your face with a worshipful, almost condescending heat that made your skin flush
He shifted, his heavy thigh sliding between yours, forcing them wide to make room. The friction of his body against yours was a delicious torture, a promise. He leaned down, his lips hovering just a hair's breadth from yours, his breath a hot, ragged gale.
Then, he didn't wait for another word. He captured your mouth, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to claim you, while his hands moved with a singular, driving purpose to strip away everything that stood between his skin and yours.
The transition from the heavy, whispered promises to the frantic reality of skin meeting skin was a blur. James didn't move with the practiced grace of a man who had all the time in the world; he moved with the controlled urgency of a man who had been starving and had finally seen a feast.
His large, calloused hands, so used to the heavy weight of gear and weaponry, were surprisingly deft as they worked. There was reverence in the way he tugged at your clothes, his eyes never once leaving yours. When he finally pulled your shirt over your head, the cool air of the room hit your skin for only a second before it was replaced by the searing heat of his gaze.
"God, you're so beautiful," he rasped, his voice sounding wrecked. "Just for me."
He stripped with a focused intensity, his movements efficient and powerful. As his clothes fell away, the scale of him became even more apparent in the dim light of the bedroom. His broad shoulders seemed to span the entire width of your vision, his chest thick and scarred, a map of his service and survival. The sight of him the hard, muscular lines of his abdomen, the heavy weight of his thighs, the sheer, imposing masculinity of him made your breath hitch in your throat.
When he finally moved to discard the last of your layers, his hands were trembling slightly, a rare sign of the vulnerability he felt for you. As you were finally laid bare beneath him, he paused for a heartbeat, his gaze sweeping over every inch of you.
He looked at you not just as a woman, but as a sanctruary.
"My wife," he whispered, the words a low, sacred vow. "My sweet, beautiful wife."
He didn't let you stay exposed for long. He surged forward, his heavy, warm body settling between your thighs, his skin sliding against yours in a way that sent jolts of electricity through your entire nervous system.
He leaned down, his nose nuzzling against the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply as if he could pull your very essence into his lungs. "You feel so good, baby," he groaned, his voice a low, vibrating rumble against your skin. "So soft. So perfect. You have no idea what you do to me."
His hands, large and possessive, slid down to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh to anchor you. He began to trail a path of biting, hungry kisses from your jaw down to the swell of your breasts, his touch alternating between worshipful caresses and the demanding, heavy pressure of a man who was done waiting.
As his hands roamed your body, his gaze drifted upward, and suddenly, his movements stilled. His breath hitched, a sharp, ragged sound in the quiet room, as his eyes locked onto your breasts.
James had always been obsessed with them the way they felt in his palms, the way they looked under the dim lights, the way they were the perfect, soft contrast to the hard lines of his own body. But as he stared, his eyes darkening with a mix of hunger and disbelief, he felt a surge of something possessive.
"Baby..." he rasped, his voice dropping into a low, reverent growl. He reached out, his large, calloused hands cupping them, his thumbs grazing your nipples with a heavy, dragging pressure that made your toes curl. "Are you playing with me? Or have you just been waiting for me to come home to grow even more perfect?"
He leaned closer, his face inches from your chest, his eyes tracing the swell of your curves with an intensity that felt like it was burning your skin. He was a man of detail, trained to notice every change, every shift, and his instincts were screaming at him. To him, they looked fuller, heavier, more lush than the last time he’d held you.
“James… please.” You tugged at his hair, nails scrapping at his scalp.
"They're-," he ignored, a slow, dark smirk spreading across his lips a look of pure, unadulterated greed. "God, they're so- you’re driving me insane.”
He didn't wait for an answer. He leaned down, his mouth opening to capture one of your nipples in a deep, hungry tug. He groaned into your skin, the sound vibrating through your entire chest, as he began to feast on you. He used his tongue with a devastating, slow rhythm, swirling and sucking, his hands kneading the soft flesh of your breasts as if he were trying to knead his very soul into you.
"So soft...," he mumbled against your skin, his voice thick with lust. He lifted his head just enough to look at you, his eyes hooded and wild. "if i don't get inside you soon, y/n, I'm going to lose my goddamn mind."
He shifted his weight, his hips grinding possessively against yours, the hard evidence of his arousal pressing firmly into your thigh. "You look so beatiful sweet girl.”
As his hips ground against yours, the friction was a delicious, agonizing torture. You could feel the strength in his thighs, the unyielding hardness of him pressing against your softest parts, and the desperation in his movements told you that he was right on the edge of losing that composure he held so dear.
"Then don't wait," you whimpered, your voice a broken, needy thing as you arched your hips upward, seeking that contact, craving the fullness of him. Your hands gripped his bicep, your nails digging into the hard muscle of his arm. "Don't wait, James. Please...“
A low, guttural sound erupted from his throat a sound of pure, primal surrender to his own desire. "God, you're going to be the death of me," he rasped, his eyes locking onto yours with a ferocity that made your breath hitch. "Such a good girl."
He didn't move to pull away. Instead, he moved to position himself, his large hands sliding down from your waist to your thighs, spreading you wide, making you feel small and utterly vulnerable beneath his massive frame.
"Look at me, y/n," he commanded, his voice dropping into that deep, authoritative rumble that always made your core ache. He wanted your eyes on him; he wanted to see the moment he finally broke through your defenses.
James watched your eyes, his gaze intense and unyielding, but as he felt the frantic, needy rhythm of your hips against his, his patience finally shattered. He didn't just want to enter you; he wanted to see the way your body reacted to him, to see the unbridled pleasure on your face as you took him in.
"Sit up for me, baby," he commanded, his voice a low, rough rasp. It wasn't a suggestion; it was an order, delivered with the quiet authority of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
His large, calloused hands slid from your thighs to your waist, his fingers digging into your hips with a possessive strength as he helped you shift. He guided you upward, moving your body until you were straddling him, your knees on either side of his thick thighs. The sudden change in position made your head swim, the cool air hitting your skin, but the heat radiating from him was overwhelming, you propped your hands on his chest, hair grazing him.
"That's it... there you go, good girl," he praised, his voice a dark, vibrating rumble in the quiet room. He leaned back slightly on his elbows, his broad chest heaving, his eyes tracking every movement of your body. He looked like a king watching his most precious subject, his expression a heady mix of lust and adoration.
He reached up, his hands settling firmly on your hips to steady you, his thumbs tracing the curve of your pelvic bone. "Now... take it. Take all of me, y/n.”
With a trembling breath, you lowered yourself. The sensation was overwhelming the sheer, massive fullness of him stretching you, filling the void that had been aching for a year. A broken, high pitched cry escaped your lips as you finally seated yourself fully on him, your eyes fluttering shut as the intense pleasure flooded your senses.
There was sex, and then there was whatever the hell this was. It was all too much and somehow still not even remotely enough to satisfy you. Your pussy fluttered as it tried to accommodate him.
"God...yes," James groaned, his head falling back against the pillow, his eyes squeezing shut as he felt you slide home. His hands tightened on your hips, his knuckles turning white as he fought to keep from thrusting up to meet you too soon. He wanted you to control the pace, to feel the weight of your own desire.
"Look at you," he rasped, his voice sounding utterly wrecked. He reached up, his fingers tangling in your hair to gently pull your head back so he could see your face. "Look at how you take me. You're so tight... so perfect. You're taking every inch of me like you were made for it."
He watched you, his eyes dark and blown wide, as you began to move. He watched the way your breasts swayed with your motion, the way your skin flushed a deep, beautiful pink, and the way your eyes glazed over with pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
"Ride me, baby," he growled, his hips twitching beneath you, his voice dropping into that deep, commanding tone that promised heaven and hell all at once. “Are you gonna be a good girl?”
A fractured, needy sob caught in your throat as you sank onto him, the sheer, staggering fullness of him stretching you until you felt like you might break and bloom all at once. You leaned forward, your hands trembling as you pressed your palms against his hard, sweat slicked chest, needing the friction of his skin to ground you in this beautiful, overwhelming reality. Your head fell back, your eyes fluttering shut as the first wave of pleasure crashed over you, but his voice that deep, commanding rumble pulled you right back to the surface.
The question was a challenge, a velvet trap that made your core ache with a fresh, desperate heat. You let out a breathless, shaky laugh, your fingers curling into the muscles of his shoulders as you began to find a slow, punishing rhythm. "I'll be whatever you want me to be, James," you whispered, your voice thick with a hunger that matched his own, "as long as you don't make me stop."
The sight of you, flushed and beautiful, straddling him while promising to be whatever he desired, was more than his discipline could withstand. He looked up at you, his eyes burning with a terrifying intensity, his jaw set tight as he fought the urge to simply thrust upward and end your teasing.
"Whatever I want?" he repeated, the words a low, dangerous velvet. He reached up, his large hands sliding from your hips to your waist, his fingers digging into your soft skin with a possessive grip that left no doubt about who was in control. "Careful, sweet girl.”
As you maintained that slow, punishing rhythm, he watched you with the eyes of a man witnessing a miracle. He watched the way your neck arched, the way your breasts swayed with every agonizingly perfect movement, and the way your eyes glazed over in pure, unadulterated bliss. Heewas mesmerized by the vulnerability of you the way you were letting him into the most intimate parts of your soul and your body all at once.
He leaned forward, his chest brushing against your breasts, his heat enveloping you. His hands moved from your waist, sliding up your back to pull you down, forcing your chest against his. He wanted to feel every heartbeat, every gasp, every shudder of your frame. He began to move with you, his hips lifting just enough to meet your descent, his movements calculated and powerful. He wasn't just participating; he was driving the rhythm, guiding you toward the edge with a masterful, commanding precision.
"Don't you dare stop," he commanded, his voice dropping into that deep, authoritative rumble that made your entire body vibrate. "Keep that pace, baby. Keep taking me like a good girl.”
He reached up, one hand tangling in your hair to tilt your head back, exposing the long, elegant line of your throat, while the other hand slid down to cup your backside, pulling you even harder against him.
"You're so tight, y/n... so fucking perfect," he groaned, his eyes rolling back for a moment as the sensation of you began to push him toward his own breaking point.
He leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was desperate and bruising, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as his hips began to pick up speed, turning the slow, agonizing torture into a frantic, beautiful race toward the stars.
As the rhythm between you intensified, your hands wandered, seeking something solid to hold onto amidst the storm of sensation. Your fingertips, trembling and slick with sweat, found the uneven terrain of his chest. You began to trace the lines of the scars the jagged mark from a shrapnel wound on his side, the thin, pale silver line near his collarbone, the rougher textures that told stories of battles fought and survived.
To anyone else, these were marks of trauma, but to you, they were a map of his survival. They were the physical proof that he had endured the hell of deployment just to find his way back to this bed,to you.
James let out a long, shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering closed as your soft touch traveled over his rugged skin. The sensation of your delicate fingers tracing his history seemed to ground him even as he was losing his mind to pleasure.
He pulled your hand up, pressing a fierce, lingering kiss to your knuckles, his eyes opening to find yours with a raw, piercing vulnerability.
His gaze darkened, the emotional moment quickly being overtaken by the primal need that was driving him toward the brink. He gripped your hips, his fingers sinking into your flesh, and his movements became more forceful, more demanding.
"They don't matter anymore," he growled, his voice dropping into that dark, commanding register. "The only thing that matters is you.”
“I bet” you gave him a small coy smile, working yourself on his cock, “I’m proud of you, Lieutenant.” you said the last part as a joke.
James’ eyes flicked upwards, widening a little bit, “what did you call me?” he smirked, “you nasty girl.”
You leaned down, kissing a spot on his chest, “Lieutenant” you repeated, voice drenched with temptation. “My Lieutenant.”
He bucked upward at your words, meeting your descent with a sudden, powerful thrust that forced a sharp, breathless cry from your lungs. He was no longer just riding the wave you were creating; he was the tide, pulling you under, dragging you down into the depths of his desire. The slow, rhythmic torture of you being in control was driving him to the brink of madness, and James was a man who had spent years learning how to endure, but tonight, he was done enduring.
"Shit," he growled, the word a low, command that vibrated through your very bones.
Before you could even gasp at the change in his tone, his large, powerful hands slid from your waist to your ass, his fingers digging deep into the soft flesh to anchor you on his cock. With a sudden, explosive burst of strength, he gripped you and hauled you downward, pulling your body flush against his. The impact of your chests colliding, skin slapping against skin, sent a jolt of pure electricity through your spine, your nipples brushing against his chest.
He didn't let you settle. He shifted his weight, histhighs bracing against the mattress, and began to drive upward with a relentless force.
"Oh, god" The sound was torn from your throat as he took over, his hips snapping into yours with a ferocity that made your vision blur. He was no longer just meeting your pace; he was dictating it, his movements heavy, deep, and punishingly thorough. He was fucking you with the desperation of a man who had been starving for a lifetime, his thrusts hitting so deep you felt him in the very center of your soul. He needed to see the way your head tossed back, the way your eyes rolled, the way your body shuddered under the sheer weight of his possession.
"You like that, don't you?" he rasped, his teeth grazing your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged, heavy stabs. He was losing his composure, the lieutenant replaced by the man, the husband replaced by the lover. "You like being taken like this, yeah? Like you belong to me?"
His pace became frantic, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, and more desperate as he felt the tension coiling in his gut, a tightening spring of pure pleasure.
"You're so fucking tight, baby... so perfect," he groaned, his eyes blown wide and dark, staring up at you.
The sudden shift in momentum was enough to make your head spin. One moment you were lost in the rhythm of his upward thrusts, and the next, the world was a blur of motion and heat. James was a man of decisive action, and he decided he wanted to see you from a different vantage point he wanted to see your back arched, your hair spilled across the pillows, and the way your body reacted to him from behind.
With a grunt of effort, he gripped your waist, his large hands nearly meeting around your middle, and flipped you over in one fluid, powerful motion. You felt the cool air hit your skin for a split second before the overwhelming heat of his cock was right there, pressing against your back.
"Stay right there, sweet girl," he commanded, his voice a dark, possessive rumble that vibrated against your spine.
He didn't give you a moment to adjust. He hooked his hands under your hips, pulling you back toward him, and drove himself home with a single, devastating thrust that made your breath hitch in a silent scream. He was fucking you from behind now, his movements even more primal and uninhibited.
The sensation was different deeper, more visceral. Every time he slammed into you, you felt the weight of his broad chest against your back, the hard friction of his thighs against yours, and the staggering power of his hips. He was relentless, his thrusts hitting with a rhythmic, heavy force that seemed to rattle your very bones.
"Fuck…look at you, taking me so well," he growled, his voice sounding utterly wrecked. He leaned forward, his chest crushing your back, and buried his face in the crook of your neck. He began to nip at the sensitive skin there, his teeth grazing your shoulder in a way that was both a caress and a claim. “Look at this pretty pussy, stretching f’me.”
His hands wandered, one sliding up to grasp your hair, gently pulling your head back to expose your throat to him, while the other wandered down to your pussy , his fingers finding your needy clit.
He increased the tempo, his movements becoming a frantic, driving force. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the quiet room, a primal percussion to the ragged gasps of your breath. Your clit throbbed as his finger circled it, your pussy clenching around him like a vice.
A choked, melodic cry escaped your lips as his words tore through your senses, the sheer intensity of his thrusts leaving you breathless and trembling.
He's going to break me, you thought, a delicious terror blooming in your chest as you felt the tidal wave of his pleasure beginning to crash. You reached back blindly, your fingers searching for the solid, muscular strength of his thighs to anchor yourself against the onslaught.
“Fuck… James, please please please baby.” you sobbed into the pillow, your hips instinctively bucking back to meet every heavy, punishing lunge.
The moment you screamed his name, James felt his own control disintegrate, he always knew what you wanted, what you were asking for, even when you didn’t make any sense.
"Anything for you, baby," he growled, his voice a ragged, desperate command. "Anything for my sweet girl."
As you reached the precipice, your body beginning to convulse with the first tremors of an intense, soul shattering climax, James shifted his focus with the precision of a man who knew exactly how to worship you. While he continued to drive into you with heavy, punishing thrusts that kept you pinned to the mattress, his hand slid down, his long, calloused fingers finding your clit.
He began to circle it with a relentless, expert pressure, his thumb working in perfect synchronicity while he continued to drive his heavy length deep into your core, his long, calloused fingers found you slick, swollen, and pulsing with a desperate need. He circle your clit with a firm, expert pressure, his thumb rhythmically grinding against the very center of your pleasure even as his hips slammed into you from behind.
"That's it, sweet girl… come for me" he commanded, his voice a dark, velvety rasp in your ear.
The combination was devastating. The deep, stretching fullness of him hitting your G spot and the frantic, precise friction of his thumb sent you over the precipice. Your world exploded into a kaleidoscope of white light and pure, unadulterated sensation. You let out a long, melodic scream of pure ecstasy, your internal muscles clenching around him in violent, rhythmic waves that felt like they would never end.
"Yes… fuck yes" James groaned, his own climax triggered by the intense, milking pressure of your orgasm. “Spread your legs wider baby- fuck- gonna breed this tight little cunt..”
He didn't pull back, he didn't slow down. As he felt you spread your legs following his command, his own release building a hot, heavy pressure that felt like it was going to burst from his very marrow he drove himself into you one last time, burying himself so deep that you felt the very base of his pelvis slam against your backside.
He let out a choked roar as he came, his entire body stiffening, his muscles corded and hard as granite. He poured himself into you, his hot sticky release painting your walls. “Shit… ah- gonna fill you up.”
He stayed there, pinned to you, his heavy, heaving chest pressed against your sweaty back, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. He didn't pull out; stayed buried deep, his hips still twitching with the aftershocks of his release, ensuring that everything he had was delivered exactly where it belonged.
"So full of me..." he whispered, his voice a broken, reverent wreck, his forehead resting against the nape of your neck. He sounded utterly spent, yet profoundly satisfied. "Look at you, you’re gonna be so beautiful, all round with my babies"
He shifted slightly, the movement almost imperceptible, but you could feel the heavy, warm fullness of him still deep within your womb. He let out a long, shuddering sigh, his large hands moving to wrap around your waist, pulling you back against him in a possessive, protective embrace.
"You took it so well," he murmured, his lips pressing a soft, worshipful kiss to your shoulder.
As the intense, rhythmic waves of your orgasm began to subside into a heavy, pulsing afterglow, James didn't let the moment fade. He was still buried deep, his breath hot and ragged against the nape of your neck, his entire body vibrating with the sheer force of his release.
He wasn't finished claiming you. Not yet.
With a low, guttural groan that sounded more like a prayer than a sound, he shifted his hips. He didn't pull out; instead, he began to move with a slow, deliberate, and incredibly heavy pressure. He was using the weight of him frame and the strength of his thighs to push, to drive, to force every last bit of his cum deeper into the very depths of you.
"Stay... stay still for me, baby," he rasped, his voice thick with hunger. "I want you to take every single drop. i want you to feel how much of me there is."
You felt it the overwhelming, stretching sensation of him pushing his cum into you. It wasn't just a feeling of fullness; it was a sensation of being invaded in the most beautiful way possible. His heavy, rhythmic thrusts were designed to ensure that nothing was wasted, pushing the warm, liquid heat of his climax past your cervix, deep into your womb.
"God, you're so tight..," he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt the way your internal muscles desperately gripped him, trying to swallow him whole. He was a man possessed, his hands sliding from your waist to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he gave one final, powerful shove, a long, slow grind that felt like it reached your very soul.
"There," he breathed, a triumphant, broken sound escaping his lips. He stayed buried, his hips pressed so firmly against yours that there wasn't a sliver of air between you.
He let out a long, shuddering exhale, his forehead dropping heavily onto your shoulder. The sheer physical exertion, combined with the overwhelming emotional release of finally being home, seemed to sap the last of his strength.
His large, warm hand slid down from your hip, splaying flat over your lower abdomen, right where the heat of him was most intense. He pressed his palm there, a possessive, protective gesture, as if he were guarding the precious gift he had just given you.
He pulled you back against his broad, muscular chest, his heartbeat a steady, calming rhythm against your spine. "Don't move, sweet girl," he murmured, his eyes lidded and dark with a profound, exhausted love. "Just stay right here and let me take care of you.”
His large hand gently rested over your lower belly, tracing slow, loving circles with his thumb.
“I’ve dreamed about this every night I was gone,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Coming home to you… making love to you like this.”
He lifted his head and looked into your eyes, his gaze soft and full of reverence. Even after months apart, the way he looked at you never changed- like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.
“I missed you so much, baby,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from you face. “i don’t want to miss anything anymore.” He leaned down and kissed you slowly, deeply, pouring months of longing into it.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours. “I want to watch your belly grow with our baby.” His hand continued its tender strokes over your stomach. “Will you let me, sweetheart? Let me love you like this… let me give you everything ?”
Tears slipped down your cheeks as youe cupped his face, smiling through the overwhelming warmth in your chest.
“Yes, James,” you whispered. “I want that more than anything.”
He kissed you again, slower this time -full of promise and forever. Then he rolled you carefully so you lay on his chest, still intimately connected, his strong arms wrapped protectively around you.
“I’m home now,” he said softly against you. r hair. “And I’m never leaving your side again. You’re my whole world y/n.”
You nestled closer, pressing a kiss over his heart.
And like the earth turning through seasons it could never share with the sky, you had waited. This time, when you reached for him across the bed, he was there.
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