summary: when in an attempt to speak Spanish you ends up seducing your boyfriend.
may contain spelling and translation errors!
The night had already completely plummeted in Barcelona, the city lights flashing lazily through the windows while the apartment was swallowed by a comfortable gloom. After all the absurdly intense day they had lived - a mixture of desire, love, laughter, and moans loud enough for the neighbour to want to exorcise the building - it was almost funny to see you so determined... and so miserably defeated by your own body.
You were sitting on the end of the bed, still wrapped only in a giant towel, desperately trying to maintain dignity. Trying, because your legs trembled again, as if your balance centre had given up on existing, and the cheeks were so hot that they seemed incandescent.
Alejandro, with the training shirt thrown on his shoulder and his hair wet from the bath water, was dropped on the armchair, watching her with an absolutely funny smile.
It was the most beautiful and dangerous vision in the world: relaxed, beautiful, the dark body still with drops sliding through the hot skin, as if it were the very embodiment of a sexual curse.
You took a deep breath, forcing your head to work, you needed to say something. Do something but Spanish? The damn Spanish, which you spoke with a comfortable fluency on a daily basis, has simply evaporated from your mind now. Every word seemed to disappear under a tsunami of desire.
-Yo... -You started, stopping immediately because even your voice seemed to want to moan alone. He closed his eyes for a second, focussing. Go for it, Y/n, for God's sake.
Alejandro arched an eyebrow, the crooked smile growing even more, as if he knew exactly the inner hell you were living.
You tried again.
-Yo te quiero... - his gaze shone, intense. You felt your own body react immediately, as if every centimetre was begging you to finish that sentence soon.
You stuck at the last word, held your breath. Which verb? Which conjugation? Something, dear, for the love of everything that is sacred!
Alejandro dropped his shirt on the armchair and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, looking at you as if he were seeing the eighth wonder of the world.
You gathered everything you had: all the Spanish learned in the hammer, all the hormonal forces that were exploding inside you, and you managed to release, in a hoarse thread of voice:
-Yo te quiero dar.
The silence that followed was almost theatrical.
Alejandro blinked once, slowly, as if he were processing, and then, an absolutely predatory smile opened on his lips, so beautiful and so dangerous that you were sure you had signed your own death sentence.
-Give me what, amor?
He asked, his voice hoarse, low, dirty with intention.
You wanted to disappear. Or jump on it immediately. Or maybe both. You bit your lower lip, feeling between ridiculous and unbearably provocative, and replied, with the little dignity that remained:
-All.
Alejandro got up slowly from the armchair, like a predator who already knew that the prey was not going to run away. You were hypnotised, your eyes wide, your heart racing so much that it looked like it was going to explode.
He approached, squatting in front of you, and ran his hands over your thighs with an absurd bow, as if he were touching something sacred.
-I'm going to accept you all, then.
He murmured, with his mouth already brushing against your skin.
You let out a nervous laugh, your whole body vibrating under the touch. But the next second, Alejandro lifted you in his arms again - as if you weighed nothing - and gently threw her back on the bed.
You didn't even have time to react before feeling his weight and warmth on you, his hot mouth on yours, your hands mapping your body as if he was decorating every centimetre again. And at that moment, with his tongue invading your mouth, with firm hands and Spanish words mixed with heavy sighs, you could only think of one thing:
Thank you Spanish gods for helping me conjugate the verb.
The room seemed to decrease around you, as if the whole world came down to the heat of the bodies, the heavy breathing, the hoarse words that Alejandro whispered in your ear with that voice of sin. You felt every muscle of his body moving on yours - a perfect dance, almost slow, loaded with a caress that mixed with the electrical voltage that tore the air. Alejandro wasn't in a hurry, not even remotely. He explored you with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, as if he had all the time in the world, as if he wanted to record in his memory every chill he caused in you.
You squirmed under him, your sensitive skin, your senses begging for more, for everything. You let out a low moan when he felt his hand slide down the side of your body, so gently that it hurt. Balde smiled against your neck and lightly bit your thin skin, leaving a hot trail that made her shudder from head to toe.
-¿Todo, sí?
He whispered, repeating your words with a malicious smile.
You just moaned in response, pulling him closer, lightly scratching his wide back, feeling the muscles contract under your fingers. You wanted everything. You wanted to get lost in it. You wanted to forget that the world existed.
It was a night like any other, and as you walked toward the exit of the restaurant where you had planned to surprise Alejandro, your heart was pounding. You couldn’t wait to see him, to make him happy with this small gesture of love. But you never expected what you were about to witness.
Through the large glass window of the restaurant, your eyes landed on Alejandro. Your Alejandro. But he wasn’t alone. In front of him, just inches away, was her. His ex. The one you thought was just a memory from the past. And just as your breath caught in your throat, the scene unfolded before your eyes like a slow-motion nightmare: she leaned in… and her lips pressed against his.
A kiss.
The world collapsed around you. Your blood ran cold, and a lump formed in your throat. You felt betrayed, deceived, like someone had ripped your heart out of your chest. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t speak. But your eyes spoke for you.
Alejandro immediately pulled away, his face filled with shock. And when his eyes met yours through the glass, they widened, full of panic.
“Y/N!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.
You didn’t stay to listen to any explanations. The pain was too strong, the anger too blinding. You turned around and started walking away quickly, hearing his footsteps following behind you.
“Y/N, please stop! Let me explain!”
But you didn’t want to hear anything. Why? Why would he betray you like that? What did she have that you didn’t? What was missing in your relationship?
Alejandro gently but firmly grabbed your wrist. “I swear, it’s not what you think! She kissed me! I didn’t want it!”
You yanked your hand away from his grip. “Oh really? And I’m supposed to believe that? I saw it with my own eyes!”
“Please, just give me one minute to explain!” His eyes were glassy, desperate. “I never wanted that kiss! I love you, only you!”
Your hands were shaking. Pain mixed with confusion. You had seen it happen, and yet… something in his eyes told you he was telling the truth.
But could you really trust him again?
You sigh, trying not to cry. Alejandro's heart clenches seeing you like this. He reaches out to touch your arm with trembling fingers. “Please… just listen to me.”
You look at his hand, so desperate and yet afraid to touch you. You can see the pain in his eyes, the fear of losing you. But you aren’t ready to give in yet. You take a step back, keeping your guard up. “Why should I? I saw what I saw, Ale. Her lips were on yours.”
He ran a hand through his dark locks, frustration and despair evident on his face. “Damn it, I know what it looked like. But she caught me off guard, I didn’t ask for that kiss!” He moved closer, his voice filled with urgency. “Y/N, I love you. You’re the only one I want.” You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the pain inside. “But why were you even meeting up with her? I thought you were over her.”
Alejandro's frustration grew, his hands clenching into fists. “I am over her, I swear. She just called me out of the blue, said she had something important to talk about.” You shake your head, the pain and doubt consuming you. “Something important, huh? And what was so important that she had to kiss you?”
His eyes darkened, a mix of anger and guilt flashing through them. “She caught me at a vulnerable moment, okay? She knows my weaknesses. She knows how to manipulate me.” His voice softened slightly, but the desperation was still there. “Please believe me, cariño. I’d never cheat on you. You mean everything to me.”
You shake your head, not believing it. “I'm sorry,” you mutter and walk away. Alejandro's heart cracked more with every step you took away from him. He ran after you, catching up and gently grabbing your arm.
“Wait, cariño, please!” he pleaded, his voice raw with pain. But you pulled away from him, not ready to give in. “No, Ale. I can’t do this right now.”
He let go of your arm but stayed close, his eyes begging for understanding. “You don’t believe me, do you? You really think I’d cheat on you with my ex?”
You paused for a moment, conflicted. “You were in love with her for years, Ale,” you said softly, avoiding his gaze. “How am I supposed to believe that you’re over her?”
His jaw tightened, the pain in his eyes intensifying. “But I was just a teenager back then, Y/N. We were together for years, and when we broke up I was hurt, yes. But I also realized it was for the best.” He reached out to touch your face, but you gently pushed his hand away. He took a deep breath, his voice low and earnest. “I promise, cariño, I have no feelings for her anymore. I love you. You’re my world now.”
You wanted to believe him, you really did, but the image of the kiss seemed to replay in your mind over and over, tearing at you. “How do I know you’re not just saying that because you got caught, Ale?” you asked, your voice breaking.
His expression twisted with anguish. “Because I’m not just saying that!” he exclaimed, frustration seeping through his words. “I know it looks bad, I know I messed up. But I didn’t ask for that kiss. I’d *never* ask for that kiss. I was just doing her a favor by meeting up with her, and she took advantage of it.” He stepped closer, his eyes searching yours desperately. “Please, amor, you have to believe me. I’d never betray you like that.”
Your heart was tearing in two. His words sounded so genuine, yet the doubt and pain in your mind wouldn’t let you believe him completely. “I want to believe you, Ale,” you said softly, “but how can I trust you again after what I saw?”
Alejandro gently takes your hand and places it on his heart. "Do you feel my heart beating? It only does it with you" he whispers softly and lovingly as he looks at you.
You feel the fast, steady beat of his heart, its rhythm strong and true. As your palm presses against his chest, you can feel the depth of his emotions, his sincerity, almost like a plea for you to understand. "Ale...," you whisper, your defences softening just a little. "I swear, cariño, there's nothing but love in this heart," he murmurs, placing his hand over yours, his touch gentle but firm. "No one else but you." His gaze is fixated on you, his face a mix of pain, love, and the desperate plea for forgiveness.
You take a shaky breath, conflicted. His gaze was so intense, so earnest. And you couldn't deny the sincerity in his touches and words. But the doubt and pain were still there, a relentless inner turmoil. "Ale, I... I want to believe you. Truly, I do. But seeing you with her...it's just so damn painful."
He nods, understanding the depth of your pain. "I know, amor. I would feel the same if the roles were reversed. And what you saw... it must have been a shock. But I swear, I never wanted that kiss. It was a moment of weakness, of letting my guard down. But I'm begging you, don't let that one moment define our entire relationship."
The air between you is thick with emotion. You find yourself caught in a whirlwind of feelings. You want to believe him, yet the doubt still clings to you. "But how can I be sure, Ale? How do I know this isn't just a case of getting caught and saying whatever you can to make me stay?"
His expression softens even more, his voice dropping to a pleading whisper. "You have to trust me, cariño. Please. I'm not just saying this to keep you with me. I'm saying it because it's the truth. I love you, Y/N. Only you. She means nothing, nothing at all." He takes your other hand, holding them both in his, his thumbs gently stroking over your knuckles.
As your head comes to rest on his chest, his arms envelop you, pulling you closer in a gesture of comfort and protection. He gently wraps his arms around you, one hand moving to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair. "There you go, cariña," he whispers softly, his body surrounding you in warmth and reassurance. "Just relax. I'm here."
You allow yourself to surrender to the comfort of his embrace. The smell of him, the familiar feeling of his body against yours, it soothes something deep within you, even as the pain and doubt still linger. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat against your cheek, as if it's trying to communicate what his words already did.
After a few moments of just holding you, he speaks again, his voice still soft and soothing. "Cariña, can you look at me? Please." You look at him with your head still resting on his chest.
As you gaze up at him, you notice the vulnerability and love in his eyes. There’s a hint of worry mixed with the warmth and affection, a silent plea for understanding. He gently lifts your chin with his fingers, making sure he’s got your full attention. “I know you’re hurting, cariño. And you have every right to doubt me. But I need you to know that I’m telling the truth. There’s nothing between me and her, nothing at all.”
He takes a deep breath, his gaze not leaving yours. “That kiss… it was unexpected, it was unwanted. I’d never even consider it. I love you. You’re the one my heart beats for. And I’ll do whatever it takes to convince you of that.” You struggle to find the right words, your emotions conflicting. On the one hand, his words are so sincere, so heartfelt, yet the pain and doubt still linger. Your voice comes out barely above a whisper.
"Ale, I...I want to believe you. But part of me is so scared, so hurt. And I’m not sure if I can just forget what I saw. I feel so lost…” His thumb gently brushes against your cheek, his touch tender and reassuring. "I know, cariña. I know it’s hard to believe me right now. I can’t just erase that memory from your mind. But I swear to you, I would never betray you. I love you with all my heart, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. Please, don’t just walk away. Give me a chance to prove it to you."
You sigh and nod. “okay” you whisper. A wave of relief washes over him as you agree to give him a chance.
"Thank you," he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude. His arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer against him. “I promise I won’t give you a single reason to doubt me. I’ll earn your trust back, cariño. I’ll make things right.”
summary: things between you and alejandro aren’t how they used to be and you don’t know what could’ve changed.
warning ‼️: angst. mentions of sex but no full out smut.
tag list: @sucredreamer @irishmanwhore @dexastres @coffeevacation @goldenngt @btslover117 @kennaskorner
@leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro
@jessnotwiththemess @thepointlessideas
@amirawrah
note: here’s my first alejandro fic! and it’s angst, sorry guys lol. i’ll write a fun, nice one for him soon but i wanted to experiment a bit. as always, enjoy and tell me what you think!
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Alejandro had always been the romantic type.
But not in the shallow, performative way that most people toss the word around. He didn’t just show up with flowers because it was expected. He didn’t take you out to dinner because it was what boyfriends were “supposed” to do. No, Alejandro moved through romance like it was instinct. Like it was something etched into the marrow of his bones. His love wasn’t a series of gestures—it was an atmosphere. A way of being. A gravitational pull that swept you into orbit before you even realized you’d left the ground.
He loved with his whole self. Not just his hands and his mouth, but his silences. His timing. His patience. He listened like each word you said was a delicate string he didn’t want to snap. He remembered things. Small things. Things most people would let slide into the background. He’d recall how you once mentioned loving the smell of rain on hot pavement—and a month later, he drove you through backroads in a summer storm with the windows down just so you could breathe it in.
His kind of love wasn’t just romantic—it was transformative.
It changed the air around you. The way your body moved through space. The way you held yourself, like maybe you really were the sun in someone’s sky, the steady pulse at the center of a world built just for you. When Alejandro looked at you—really looked—it wasn’t casual. It wasn’t passing. It was stillness. Arresting. Like you were something sacred. Like you were a living prayer, and he had just remembered how to kneel.
You could still remember the exact way he used to hold your face when he kissed you.
His palms weren’t soft—he was an athlete, after all—but when they cupped your cheeks, they felt reverent. Like he was holding something fragile, something holy. His thumbs would brush just under your eyes, slow and careful, like he thought you might vanish if he touched too hard. He would trace your cheekbone with such aching gentleness it felt like he was reading braille, like your skin was telling him secrets only he could hear.
He had this habit of tucking your hair behind your ear, not just to tidy it or to see you better, but because it gave him a reason to be close. To touch. To linger. There was something grounding in it for him—like the silk of your hair between his fingers reminded him of what was real, what mattered. He noticed things others missed: the way your back responded best to slow, clockwise circles when you couldn’t sleep, or how you always left the last sip of your coffee untouched unless it had oat milk in it.
In the beginning, being with him felt like stepping into sunlight after years of shadow.
It wasn’t a grand revelation, not a fireworks-and-fanfare moment—but something quieter. Truer. Like breath, or gravity. Like the two of you had always been orbiting, and finally, finally, you’d collided in the softest kind of miracle.
But now?
Now you weren’t even sure he saw you.
Not really.
His eyes still landed on you—but they didn’t linger. They didn’t see. Not in that soul-cradling, heart-stopping way that used to make you feel like the most alive thing in any room. The motions were all still there—the gestures, the habits—but they were stripped of meaning, like a song played on mute.
The dinners still happened.
You still sat across from each other in dimly lit restaurants that smelled of roasted garlic and candle wax. The tables were dressed in crisp linen. The wine glasses were tall and thin, filled with something French and expensive. The waiters wore pressed shirts and shoes that clicked softly against hardwood floors. From the outside, it looked perfect. A couple in love, living well.
But from your side of the table, it felt like theater.
You said your lines. He said his.
The conversation was a script neither of you had the heart to rewrite, so you kept performing it. The roles you once inhabited so fully—lover, partner, confidant—felt like costumes now. Heavy and ill-fitting.
“How was training?” you’d ask, twirling your fork like it mattered.
“Fine. We ran tactics for Saturday.”
“Oh. That sounds intense.”
“No really. Just repetitive.”
That was it. That was the scene.
The scrape of your fork against the ceramic plate sounded louder than his voice. You’d nod, swallow some overpriced Cabernet, and offer him a practiced smile. The kind of smile you might give to a neighbor in an elevator. Not the man who had kissed you breathless just three days ago after a fight. Not the man whose body had curled instinctively toward yours that morning in bed, even in sleep.
You missed him. God, you missed him.
But maybe worse—you missed yourself in his love.
You missed the version of you that bloomed under the warmth of his gaze. The woman who felt easy in her skin, held, seen, known. The version of you who didn’t have to earn affection or translate silences or decode sighs.
You missed the way his touch used to speak.
He used to rest his hand on your thigh during car rides, fingers splayed like they belonged there, like they were always meant to be there. He used to kiss the curve of your shoulder while you stirred dinner, his lips brushing your skin like punctuation marks in a language only he could write.
Now, when he touched you, it felt...dutiful. Or worse—automatic.
The easy, unconscious intimacy had calcified into muscle memory. Something rehearsed. Something fading.
And the fighting? That had changed too.
You fought more now. Not loud, slam-the-door fights. But slow, painful ones. Heavy and sharp. The kind that didn’t clear the air but poisoned it. Words came out barbed and jagged, slicing deep before either of you realized what you were even trying to say. You didn’t argue to resolve—you argued to survive. And somewhere in the chaos, you forgot how to speak each other’s language.
Still—after the fights, when the dust of your anger hadn’t even settled yet, he would reach for you.
And you would let him.
You always let him.
His mouth would crash against yours like a man starving, like the fight hadn’t cracked something open but cracked something loose. And your body—traitorous, aching, hungry—would answer. Would open. Would respond like it still remembered everything even your mind tried to forget.
He would hold you like a man lost in a storm. Not tenderly, not gently—but like a drowning man clutching a rope. His hands would grip, his breath would catch, and his forehead would fall against yours with a desperate kind of pressure that said: Please.
He never said the words.
He never said I’m sorry.
But in those moments—in the trembling press of his hands, in the way he breathed your name like a prayer—it almost felt like he meant it.
Like maybe, just maybe, this was his version of an apology.
A wordless, frantic, clumsy kind of love that still didn’t know how to stop choosing you.
Even if everything else had already started to let go.
And you hated that.
Hated the twisted ritual of it all.
How the closest you ever felt to him now came not in the lightness of laughter or the comfort of everyday touches, but in the ashes of your worst arguments. After the yelling. After the silence. After you’d both stood there, wounded and raw, having thrown knives shaped like words. That was when he touched you like he still remembered. Like his skin ached without yours. Like he could undo the wreckage with the heat of his mouth and the desperation of his hands.
You hated that pain had become the precursor to passion. That intimacy now arrived hand-in-hand with suffering. That your body still opened for him—hungry, responsive, needy—while your heart cowered in the corner, whispering pull away, please, pull away.
You were split in two: the version of you that still loved him so deeply it hurt, and the version that was tired of bleeding for that love.
And the worst part? You knew he noticed.
You saw it in the quiet moments. The ones he didn’t think you were watching.
Like the way his gaze would drift to you and then quickly away, like he was afraid of what he might see reflected in your eyes. Not wonder. Not the awe he once wore like second skin around you. But guilt. Maybe shame. Confusion.
You caught him lingering in the hallway sometimes, paused mid-step like he wasn’t sure whether to reach for you or retreat. You saw the way he held his phone, scrolling slowly through old photos of you together when he thought you were asleep—his thumb brushing over the screen like a prayer, eyes glassy in the dim blue light.
There was one night—3:12 a.m.—you’d padded into the living room for water and found him sitting there, hunched over, elbows on knees, phone lit up with that same photo album. Your playlist—the one you used to make love to, the one that played during lazy Sunday breakfasts and long, tangled mornings—was playing faintly through the speakers. It was like he was trying to summon a ghost. Trying to remember what it felt like to be close without the aftermath of a storm.
He was searching. Always searching. For a cure. A quick fix. A lifeline.
But that was the problem. Alejandro kept looking outside himself.
He acted like love was a riddle to solve. A game with hidden clues. Like if he just found the right podcast episode, if he bookmarked the right advice meme on Instagram, if he could just piece together enough romantic gestures—a surprise dinner here, a hotel room with rose petals there—it would all click. The connection would return. The love would flow again. The warmth would come back like water from a turned tap.
But love doesn’t work like that.
Love doesn’t live in checklists.
It’s not a problem to be fixed. It’s a presence. A choice. A quiet, continuous offering.
And the truth was: no getaway could replace what had gone missing. No luxury could fill the vacancy of being emotionally abandoned. No Pinterest-perfect date could make up for the fact that you hadn’t felt seen by him in weeks.
You didn’t want more effort if it wasn’t honest. You didn’t want bigger gestures if they were just smokescreens for absence.
You needed presence. Consistency. The unsexy, unglamorous kind.
You needed to feel him in the room. In the moment. In the ordinary.
You didn’t need more flowers. You needed to not feel like a stranger sitting across from someone who used to trace galaxies into your spine.
You didn’t want to feel like a task on his to-do list.
You wanted to feel like his.
And if he couldn’t offer that—if he couldn’t meet you where you were, couldn’t choose you on the hard days, in the silence, in the slow spaces—then you’d have to walk away.
Not because you stopped loving him.
But because you finally loved yourself enough not to stay where you were slowly fading.
You both knew the end wasn’t what either of you wanted. Not truly. Not yet.
Too many pieces of your shared life still whispered of love.
His hoodie, crumpled in the laundry basket, still carried the scent of him—warm sandalwood and sweet caramel.
Your silk scarf still hung from the back of a dining chair, left there the last time he undressed you with frantic hands and aching want.
The photo booth strip still clung to the fridge by a single magnet—his smile wide, face pressed to your cheek, your mouth mid-laugh, joy radiating off the print. Neither of you had moved it. Neither of you could.
But nostalgia wasn’t enough.
Love couldn’t breathe in memories alone.
So now, you sat on opposite ends of the couch—two familiar strangers in a home you once built together.
The space between you was thick. Dense with everything unsaid. With every swallowed apology, every unmet need, every moment you’d both pulled back when you should’ve leaned in.
Your arms were folded. Legs curled up beneath you like a shield. Your gaze fixed on nothing, because eye contact felt like too much.
Alejandro leaned forward.
His elbows balanced on his knees, fingers raking restlessly through his curls—longer now than they used to be, messier.
His knee bounced, jittery with nerves.
“I don’t want to break up” you said, voice hushed but heavy, like the words might shatter if you spoke them too loud.
His head snapped up instantly. “No. Yo tampoco.” (No. Me neither)
His accent—thicker now, untouched by translation—carried the weight of truth. He never softened it when he was being vulnerable. When he was speaking from the deepest part of himself.
You watched him closely. The way his jaw flexed. The flicker of fear behind his eyes. He looked like someone teetering at the edge, unsure if the next step was going to bring him back to you or send him spiraling further away.
“I just…” you hesitated, swallowed, pushed past the knot in your throat. “I feel like we’re fading. We’re both watching it happen in real time and just… hoping the other person will do something.”
His exhale was sharp. Painful. He pressed his palms into his face, fingers curled like claws.
“I know.”
When he looked at you again, his eyes were rimmed red. Raw. Wide open.
“I’m—” His voice cracked. He swallowed hard. Tried again. “I’m trying. I swear. But it’s…” he shook his head, voice barely above a whisper, “Joder. It’s like I forgot how to move. How to feel.” (Fuck)
He touched his temple. Then his chest.
“In here. And in here.”
You said nothing. You just let him speak. Spill. Unravel.
“I feel frozen” he confessed. “The man who loved you—he’s still in me. But he’s… buried. Quiet. Waiting for me to let him speak again.”
Your arms tightened around your knees.
“I want to love you right” he went on. “I want to kiss you like I mean it. Not like a routine. I want to hold you because I need to, no because I feel like I should. But I get scared. And then I freeze. And then you pull back. And I panic. Then we fight.”
His voice broke again. “Lo odio, joder.” (I fucking hate it)
“I hate it too” you whispered, eyes stinging. “And I hate that the only time we’re close now is when we’re making up. Not even apologizing.”
He flinched like you’d hit him.
“No” he said quickly. “No, that’s not it. That’s not true. I always want you. I still see you.”
“But you don’t show it”
“I know” He blinked hard. “And I hate that even more”
He looked wrecked. Like someone standing in the rubble of something sacred, unsure where to begin the rebuild.
“I’ve been lost” he said. “Been living in my own silence. But you were always the thing that bring me back to life.”
You bit down on your trembling lip.
“I don’t need perfection” you said. “I just need presence. I need to trust that I’m still loved… not as a duty, not as a memory. But now. As I am.”
“I do love you. Muchisimo” he said, with a force that made your breath catch. “Even when I don’t say it right. Te lo juro. Every time you walk into a room. Every time I hear you laugh, even when it’s not for me. When you’re angry. I look at you and I still think, Dios… how did I get this lucky?” (A lot) (I swear to you)
A tear slid down your cheek, uninvited. You wiped it with the back of your hand, smiling through the ache.
“I want to turn the page” you said. “Not pretend the rest of the book doesn’t exist. I want to grow from it. With you.”
He nodded, slowly. Like he understood for the first time.
“I want that too. Contigo. Real this time. Honest.” (With you)
You sniffled. “Can you show up for me? Even on the numb days? Even when it’s hard?”
He moved closer—just enough for his knee to touch yours. His hand slid gently to your thigh. Not urgent. Not possessive. Just warm. Steady. Seeking.
“I promise” he said, eyes locked on yours. “Even if it come out messy. Even if I don’t always get the right word. Tú eres mi corazón. Always.” (You are my heart)
And no—maybe this wouldn’t be easy.
But in that moment, with his hand on your leg, his eyes open and pleading, his voice cracking beneath the weight of it all—you believed him.
It was a perfect evening. The air was warm, enveloping, and the scent of the sea filled your lungs with every breath. The colors of the sunset painted the sky orange and pink while the waves crashed gently on the shore. Alejandro had brought you there saying that he needed to get away from it all and that he wanted to do it with you, just the two of you, away from the chaos and lights of the city.
You walked side by side on the soft sand, his fingers intertwined with yours. Every now and then he looked at you and smiled, that smile capable of melting you every time like the first. It was different that evening, however. Something deeper shone in his eyes, an emotion that he seemed to be holding back with difficulty.
“You are beautiful,” he whispered, his voice a little hoarse and incredibly sweet. His gaze was intense, as if he wanted to capture every detail of your face so he would never forget it. You blushed slightly, trying to hide the embarrassed smile as you shook your head.
“And you’re so over the top,” you replied jokingly, but inside you could feel your heart beating like crazy.
You continued along the beach until Alejandro stopped suddenly, tugging you gently to turn towards him. “Wait… there’s something I want to show you.”
His voice was shaking slightly and his gaze deepened even further. He took your hand and led you to a small corner of the beach where he had prepared something beautiful. Pillows scattered on the sand, candles flickering in the sea breeze and rose petals carefully arranged.
“Did you make this?” you asked, incredulous, as you let him lead you to the center of that enchanted space.
“Yes,” he admitted, running a nervous hand through his hair. “I wanted it to be special. Because you are special.”
You felt your heart beating faster, the words he spoke stuck in your mind like sweet promises. And then, without warning, Alejandro knelt before you.
“I spent months trying to find the perfect way to say this, to ask you. But the truth is, every time I look at you, I realize that there is never a perfect moment. Because every moment with you is already perfect.” He took a deep breath, his hands shaking as he pulled a small blue velvet box from his pocket.
“I love you more than words can explain. You are my home, my strength, my everything. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you, sharing every joy and overcoming every hardship together. Will you marry me?”
The world seemed to stop. The waves continued to crash on the shore, but the sound was far away, almost unreal. All you could see were his eyes, those eyes filled with emotion and hope.
“Yes,” you answered in a small voice, then louder. “Yes, Alejandro! I want to marry you!”
He burst out laughing, that genuine and contagious laugh that you loved so much. He quickly stood up and wrapped his arms around you, lifting you from the sand and spinning you around as your laughter blended with the melody of the sea.
When you stopped, he took your face in his hands and kissed you, a sweet and intense kiss, full of promises and eternal love. And there, on that beach illuminated by the last rays of sun and flickering candles, you understood that this was only the beginning of something wonderful.
The match was over, and Barcelona had won. The sound of boos mixed with the applause of the blue and garnet fans was now distant, but the air in the Santiago Bernabéu remained tense. The field was now empty, the lights were turning off, and the corridors behind the locker rooms were silent, as if even the stadium needed to breathe after the whirlwind of emotions.
You walked alone through the corridors, your heart still pounding from the just-concluded Clásico. Everyone had left, yet the weight of that defeat hung heavy on you. You were running from the anger of your father, who, as the Real Madrid manager, felt far more pressure.
You couldn’t shake the thought that, despite every prediction, Barcelona had managed to prevail. And the pain was amplified by the fact that, somehow, he had been a part of all of this.
As you tried to distance yourself from everything, you suddenly ran into him. Alejandro Balde, your ex. His determined steps echoed on the floor, and your breath grew heavier when you realized he was walking in your direction. The tension was palpable, as if every step he took pulled you into a whirlwind of emotions you didn’t want to face.
He stopped in front of you, saying nothing for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as if he were trying to understand something that perhaps even you didn’t know. The rivalry between Madrid and Barcelona had never been just about the field; today, you knew it well the hatred, the passion, the torment… everything seemed to be condensed in that silence.
“You didn’t expect to find me here, did you?” he said, breaking the silence with a smile that seemed more like a challenge than a kindness. His tone was sarcastic, but there was a certain hardness, as if he, too, was trying to mask something.
You look at him in surprise. "What are you still doing here?" His gaze remained fixed on you, the tension in the air becoming palpable. "I could ask you the same thing," he replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. The silence settled between you for a moment, as if both of you were trying to find the right words for a conversation that neither of you had expected to have.
"It's funny, isn't it?" he said then, the corner of his mouth raising in a smirk. "Who would have thought that we would end up in the same corridor after a Clásico like the one today?"
"Well, am I the mister's daughter you were expecting?" You say looking at him as you move closer to him. A hint of amusement flashed in his eyes as he met your gaze. He didn't break eye contact as you moved closer, the tension between you becoming thicker.
"No," he replied, his tone almost playful. "I wasn't expecting you, I'll be honest," he admitted, his smirk growing a little wider.He leaned his shoulder against the wall, eyes never leaving yours. "But here you are," he added, his voice lower.
You look him up and down and fix a strand of your hair. "And why didn't you wait for me here?" His gaze followed yours, and he watched you fix your hair. A hint of curiosity flickered in his eyes, and at the mention of waiting for you, his smirk grew into an amused smile.
"Do you really think I was counting the minutes, waiting for you to appear?" he asked, the sarcasm still in his voice. He pushed off the wall, taking a step closer to you, the distance between you almost disappearing.
You look at him with a smirk. "I think so, you're still obsessed with me" you tell him.
Your relationship didn't end well. Your father forced you to leave him since he coached Real Madrid and Alejandro played for Barcelona. You had to give the right image.
He raised an eyebrow at your smirk, his eyes narrowing. "obsessed," he repeated, his voice filled with sarcasm. But behind all the mockery, there was an undeniable tension. Alejandro's gaze, his presence, the closeness of his body - everything betrayed the pain behind the mockery. Your words had wounded him, bringing to the surface what neither of you wanted to acknowledge. "Well, well," he sneered, his jaw clenching. "If your father heard your words, he wouldn't be too happy, would he?"
You look at him in surprise. “Still bitter about the breakup?” His eyes hardened at your comment, the wound of the breakup evidently fresh in his memory. "Bitter?" he replied, his voice filled with frustration. "It wasn't exactly my choice, now, was it?"Alejandro pushed off the wall and stepped closer to you, the distance between you almost non-existent. His gaze was intense, a mixture of anger and desire.
You were trying to hide your guilt and the fact that you missed him so much. When your father ordered you to leave him you cried for a lot of months even though you tried not to let anyone notice.
His eyes scrutinized you, and he knew, he saw it in your expression: the guilt, the pain. It was evident that the breakup had affected you as well, despite all the efforts. He moved even closer, so close that you could feel his breath on your face, and his voice became lower, softer. "You're trying to hide it," he said, his eyes fixed on yours. "But I know, I know you better than anyone."
You look at him biting your lip, he was right. Alejandro noticed the way you looked at him, the way you bit your lip, and he knew he had gotten under your skin. He slowly raised his hand, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch soft, yet firm. "You may have tried to forget me," he said, his voice low, "but I know, deep down, you haven't."
You close your eyes at the feeling of his touch, you missed him so much. Every day was hell without him, without his smile and without your touch. His touch felt as if it were burning against your skin, igniting the fire that still burned within you. Your eyes were closed, and the memories came in waves, reminding you of what you had lost.
Alejandro observed the effect he was having on you, the way your body seemed to yield to his touch, and he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. "Open your eyes," he whispered, his voice almost pleading.
You open your eyes softly, looking at him with guilt and desire. His gaze met yours, and he could see the mixture of guilt and desire in your eyes, a sight that broke his heart and made him want to hold you tight. He took a step closer, reducing the already minimal distance between you, his body hovering over yours. One of his hands rested against the wall, pinning you in place. "Tell me," he said, his voice a whisper, "do you really think I ever stopped thinking about you?"
You shake your head and look at him, moving closer. He watched as you inched closer, and his eyes darkened with a mix of need and possessiveness. Your admission brought a flash of satisfaction to his gaze. He slid his free hand up your arm, his touch gentle yet firm, a clear display of the control he had over you.
"You think this is easy for me?" he asked, his voice now a harsh whisper. "Do you think I don't miss you, don't want you?" You sigh, looking at him guiltily. “Don't tell me this, please you're just making it hard for me to stay away from you” you whisper desperately.
He leaned in, his body pressed against yours, his face hovering just inches away. His eyes searched yours, the frustration in them clear. "Is that what you want?" Alejandro asked, his voice now filled with a bitter edge. "To stay away from me? After everything?”He wrapped the hand that was on your arm around your waist, and pulled you even closer, his gaze never breaking from yours.
You lean into his touch and sigh sadly because you missed the closeness. “I don’t want to be away from you,” you confess. The frustration in his gaze gave way to something softer, something like relief. He tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you against him until your body was flush with his. “Then say it again,” Alejandro whispered, his voice heavy with desire, “say that you don’t want to stay away from me.”
“I don’t want to,” you whisper, hugging him and burying your face in his chest. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his gaze. The intensity was overpowering, the desire in his eyes almost consuming. Alejandro held your gaze for a moment, his fingers tracing the contour of your face.
“Why?” he asked, the word coming out as if on a whimper. “Why didn’t you fight for me? Why didn’t you fight to stay?” You look at him longingly. "My father didn't want it, you know about the whole rivalry thing. I tried to find a solution with him but he didn't approve." You whisper weakly.
His gaze darkened, a mix of anger and pain in his eyes. “The rivalry,” he repeated, the word dripping with bitterness. “Your father let a rivalry get in the way of us. That’s all that matters to him, huh?”He pulled away just enough so he could look at you without breaking the embrace. “You could’ve fought for us. For me.”
You sigh sadly. "I'm sorry, you don't know how every night I regret the choice I made. I had to choose you" you whisper looking at him with tears in your eyes. A wave of sadness washed over his features when he saw the tears in your eyes, and his heart ached with a mixture of pain and understanding.
He pulled you to him, his embrace now fierce and protective. “How do you think I felt that day,” he asked, his voice shaking with emotion, “watching you walk away from me?” He took your face in his hands, his fingers gentle on your cheeks. “We had something, something that was real,” he continued, his voice now a low whisper. “And now we’re here, on opposite sides of a stupid line neither of us drew. How is that fair?”
You tighten yourself in his embrace. “I hate myself so much,” you whisper. "For ruining everything, I miss you more and more" He held you tight, his arms encircling you like a protective shield. The words you spoke hit him straight in the chest, and his heart ached for you, for the pain, the regret and longing he heard in your voice.
“I hate that we’re in this situation too,” Alejandro said, his voice now hoarse with the weight of the emotions coursing through him. “I miss you every day, I miss us, what we had.”
You look at him without breaking away from the embrace. “Tell me you still want me and you won't give up on us and I'll run away from my father to be with you” you whisper.
His eyes burn as he looks at you, a fire igniting in them at your words. “Tell you I still want you?” he repeats, his voice rough with need and desire. “I've never stopped wanting you, I could never give up on us.”His hold on you becomes almost possessive. “Run away from your father, you say? I'll help you pack your bags right now.”
The night of Valentine's Day has arrived, wrapped in a dreamlike atmosphere. Barcelona is illuminated by a thousand lights, the streets are deserted, and the sky above you is a deep blue, with stars dancing to the rhythm of your love. The cold of winter is only faint, but the warmth you feel beside you, in Alejandro’s figure, is enough to make you forget every shiver.
Alejandro takes your hand, and when his skin touches yours, a shiver of happiness runs through your body. "Are you cold?" he asks sweetly, and without waiting for your answer, he wraps you in his jacket, holding you close. His closeness feels like an embrace that protects you from the world.
"I want to give you a night you'll never forget," he says in a soft voice, almost a whisper, as if afraid to ruin the enchantment of that moment. His eyes are full of affectionate determination, and you can’t help but melt in front of him. Your heart beats faster, feeling that, somehow, he knows exactly what makes you happy.
You follow him as he leads you to a quiet corner of the city, where the streets are silent, and the sound of your steps is lost in the echo of the night. In the distance, you see a small carriage pulled by a white horse, moving slowly toward you. Alejandro smiles at you and motions for you to get in. "A surprise for you," he says as he helps you settle beside him, and the carriage starts moving gently.
The sound of the wheels on the cobblestone is the only noise that breaks the silence. The city stretches before you, with its narrow alleys and ancient buildings that shine under the moon. You look around, enchanted, but your gaze quickly returns to him. Alejandro is so close, and his hand on yours is warm, reassuring. Occasionally, his fingers brush yours with infinite tenderness, as if afraid to break the spell.
"Did you know that for me, Valentine's Day isn’t just a date on the calendar?" he asks, his voice light but full of meaning. "Every moment with you is special. Every day, every smile, every little gesture. But tonight..." His words pause for a moment, as if he’s searching for the right ones. "Tonight, I want you to know how much I love you."
Your heart explodes in your chest, and your response comes out without thinking: "I love you too, more than words can say."
The carriage stops in front of a quiet park, and Alejandro gently guides you to a wooden bench, covered with soft cushions. There, beneath a tree decorated with soft lights, it feels as if the whole world has stopped to give you space. Every breath you take seems to synchronize with his, and the beat of your hearts merges into a single rhythm.
"I wanted it to be perfect," he says, looking at you with intensity, as if you were the only thing that exists in his world. "Because you’re perfect for me."
Without saying a word, you move closer and place your hands on his face, your thumbs gently caressing his skin. The air is charged with emotion, with a silent tension that grows between you, and in an instant, his lips find yours. The kiss is tender at first, a gentle contact, but it quickly deepens, as if telling a story that only the two of you understand.
Every gesture, every caress is an expression of love, desire, and passion that needs no words. Time seems to stretch, as if the night never wanted to end. And while your eyes lose themselves in his, the world completely dissolves. The only thing that matters is him, and you, together, in a corner of eternity.
"It will always be like this," Alejandro says between kisses. "Always with you."
And in that moment, with your heart beating in unison with his, you know that nothing will ever separate you. The night of Valentine's Day turns into a memory that will remain forever engraved in your hearts.
You smile and almost cry with joy and relief and kiss him passionately. He felt the heat of your kiss like a bolt of electricity. Every pent-up emotion, every bit of longing and desire unleashed as he kissed you back, his lips moving against yours with a primal need.As you clung to him, he felt like he was finally whole again. Months of separation, pain and regret melted away in that one moment, replaced by an overwhelming sense of homecoming.
His hands caressed your body, as if trying to commit every curve to memory. He pulled you even closer, his mouth devouring yours, his tongue tasting the sweetness of your lips. “I want you,” he whispered against your mouth, his voice a low rasp, “ I need you.”
You hold onto him tighter and look at him longingly. “Me too baby, it's been too long” you murmur near his lips kissing him again.
He groaned against your lips, his body reacting to your touch and your words like a man starved. His hands roamed over your form, caressing and gripping as if he couldn't get enough of you. “Too long,” Alejandro repeated, his voice thick with need, “ too long without you.”He guided you backwards gently, his body pushing you until your back was against the wall.
He broke the kiss, but only to trail his lips down your jawline, to your neck, and to that sensitive spot beneath your ear that he knew would drive you wild. His hands roamed beneath your shirt, his touch leaving a burning trail of desire over your skin.
You moan softly as you cling to him. “I missed you so much,” you whisper softly. The sound of your moan drives him over the edge. It's like music to his ears, an affirmation that you're still his, that he can still make you feel this way.
Alejandro nipped and kisses softly at your skin, his breath heavy and ragged. “You have no idea how much I missed touching you,” he murmurs against your skin, his hands now roaming freely over your body, “tasting you.”
You murmur with pleasure hearing his words. His touch becomes more possessive, he's desperate to drown himself in you, to erase the months of separation and the memories of loneliness.Alejandro moves his lips down your neck, to your collarbone, leaving a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses. His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he slowly starts lifting it up.
He breaks away just enough to lift the shirt over your head, his eyes drinking in the sight of your bare torso. Alejandro touches the skin that's now exposed to him, his fingers tracing over your belly, your breast, as if he was committing every inch to memory.
You moan softly, looking at him with desire. The sound of your moan causes a possessive growl from him. He leaned in, claiming your mouth once more, his tongue delving between your lips, tasting and claiming you like a man parched. His hands roam over your skin, mapping you out as if it was the first time, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
“Ale” you moan giving him more space. The sound of his nickname on your tongue almost drives him mad. He responds by pushing you back against the wall, his hips pinning yours as he continues to kiss you deeply, hungrily. One of his hands moves down, tracing the edge of your pants, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric.
Alejandro breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, “ I need to feel you, all of you,” against your neck, his fingers moving lower, slipping beneath your underwear.
“yes please” you murmur, lifting his shirt to touch his abs. He sucks in a breath when your hands connect with his skin. The feeling of your touch almost overwhelms him, the yearning for you, for this connection stronger than ever.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs against your skin, his fingers still exploring the most sensitive parts of you.
You moan again, gently scratching his abs. "Ale I need you, please" you murmur desperately. Your touch and your words ignite a fire inside of him, an inferno that can only be quelled by one thing.
He captures your mouth in a hungry, desperate kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, his body pressing closer to yours, showing you just how much he needs you too. “You undo me,” Alejandro whispers raggedly as he breaks the kiss, his hands now moving to the fastening of your pants.
He pushes the fabric down, revealing more of your skin to him, his eyes roaming over your body with an intensity that's almost primal. His lips find the sensitive spot on your neck, and he nips at the skin, his hands roaming over the exposed curves of your thighs. “I want you,” Alejandro murmurs, his voice deep and rough with need, “so much it's driving me insane.”
“Me too,” you murmur, kissing him again as you took off Alejandro’s sweatpants. The feeling of your hands on him, combined with your eager kisses, make his heart pound in his chest, his body almost aching with the need for you. He groaned against your lips as you undressed him, the contact bringing back memories, igniting a fire of need that burned bright. His hands slipped down, gripping your hips as he pinned you against the wall again, his body flush against yours, leaving little space between you.
Alejandro quickly undresses you and pulls down his boxers as he rubs his tip against your entrance making you both moan. The feeling of him, rubbing against you, makes you arch against him, your bodies fitting together as if meant to.
Alejandro can’t help the low growl that escapes him, his head nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He wants you, more than anything he’s ever wanted before, and the fact that he’s so close to you, feeling you against him, drives him wild. “I need you,” he whispers, his voice ragged with desire, “now.”
Alejandro grabs your legs and you wrap them around him and Alejandro enters you making you both moan. The feeling of him entering you is like coming home, like a missing part of yourself coming back, and you both moan in unison with the intensity of it. He holds you closely, his embrace almost possessive, as if he’s afraid you’ll dissapear if he lets go. “I missed this,” he whispers, his voice husky and thick with need. “I missed my cock in your tight little pussy” he murmurs in ecstasy pushing himself in. You moan near his lips as you exchanged sloppy kisses.
“You are so tight, much tighter than I remember” Alejandro murmurs moaning as he fucks you quickly.
“Ale” you moan loudly to kiss him. The sound of his name on your tongue, the way you say it, makes him feel like someone's lit a fire beneath his skin.
He kisses you deeply, his tongue ravaging your mouth in a hungry, possessive manner. Every brush of lips, every flick of his tongue stokes the flames inside him, turning the need into an inferno. “I need more, I need all of you,” he murmurs against your mouth, between kisses.
You moan feeling his thrusts become even faster. “I missed your big cock so much” you murmur moaning as you gave him sloppy kisses.
The dirty words coming from you drive him wild, make him want you even more, and he responds with another deep, possessive growl. “I missed this too,” he moans, his breath hot against your skin. “Your moans, you feeling me inside you, I thought I’d go mad without you.”
His thrusts become rougher, his grip on you tightening as if he could pull you even closer. “You’re mine,” he grunts.
You moaned softly kissing his jaw as you felt like heaven. “All yours,” you murmur, moaning.
Hearing you claim what he already knows as true, that you’re his, makes his heart throb and sends a shiver down his spine. He nips lightly at your skin, his teeth scraping softly against your jawline.
“Mine,” Alejandro grunts again, his thrusts becoming even more erratic, “All mine.”The possessiveness in his voice makes it clear, you belong to him. He captures your mouth in another deep kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, his thrusts becoming even more desperate, as if he’s trying to make up for all the time they’ve spent apart.
Alejandro breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your ear, his voice a ragged whisper against your skin. “I’m never letting you go again,” he murmurs, “never letting anybody touch you like this, have you like this.”
Hearing his words you felt butterflies in your stomach and your heart pounding, so hard it threatened to jump out of your chest.
You smile sweetly at his words and rest your forehead on his mind "I love you Ale" you whisper softly. The sound of those words, words he'd been longing to hear for months, causes his heart to skip a beat.
He stops moving for a moment, his touch softening, as he looks at you, his expression one of pure, almost disbelieving adoration. "I love you too," Alejandro whispers, his voice hoarse with emotion, "I love you more than you know."His lips find yours in a soft, tender kiss, his touch gentle and filled with all the emotions he had kept bottled up inside.
Alejandro began to move inside you with gentle and gentle movements, no longer harsh. He wanted to feel all of you, he wanted to make love with you and not just simple sex. He wanted to worship you, to show you how much he’d missed you.His kisses are soft, and he whispers words of love and devotion against your skin. He pours all the emotions he feels into each touch, each kiss, each movement.
"Ale, it's so good" you whisper softly looking at him with love. The sound of your praise only encourages him even more.
He moves deeper, his movements slow and gentle, as if he’s savoring every feeling. His eyes stay locked to yours, filled with love and adoration. “You’re so perfect,” Alejandro murmurs, his hand rubbing your body, “so beautiful.”
You could feel his entire cock shooting in and out of your pussy and you felt like you were in heaven. You clung to him tighter as you both moaned softly.You two were so into each other that you forgot you were in the locker room hallway but you didn't care.
“I'm so close” you murmur, moaning, looking at him with your eyes full of love and affection.
“Me too,” he whispers, his voice ragged with pleasure.Alejandro picks up the pace, his movements more urgent and desperate. He needs you, he needs this release, this connection. His hand finds yours, his fingers lacing with yours as he looks at you, his expression filled with love and overwhelming desire.
He captures your mouth in a hungry, possessive kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, and he continues to move inside you. Your moans against his lips only drive him closer to the edge, and he knows that he can’t last much longer.
The intensity of the orgasm rocks through both of you, leaving you clinging to each other, panting and trembling. Alejandro buries his face into your neck, his breath hot against your skin, a low moan escaping his lips. "I've missed this so much," he whispers, peppering soft kisses along your jaw. "I've missed you so much."
You gently stroke his hair "you too baby".He nuzzles into your touch, a sigh escaping his lips. "You have no idea how much," he murmurs, his fingers gently tracing patterns over your skin.
Alejandro pulls you close, his arms holding you tight as if he’s afraid to let you go. “I don’t ever want to lose you again,” he whispers, his voice low and tinged with vulnerability.
"It won't happen, no one will go against us again" you say softly, continuing to stroke his hair. He relaxes into your touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he nestles even closer to you. Your words bring him some comfort, the reassurance he needs to hear. He knows that the road ahead won't be easy, that there will be challenges, but the thought of facing them with you by his side lessens the weight of uncertainty.
He lifts his head, his gaze locked with yours. "Promise me," he murmurs, "promise me that you'll never leave me again."
“I promise baby” you say softly kissing his forehead. “I'll come and live in Barcelona with you this time, like we promised,” you say lovingly, looking at him. His heart skips a beat, the words making hope and joy bubble up inside him.
He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks gently. He gazes at you, his expression one of pure adoration. "Really?" Alejandro whispers, his voice hitching with emotion. "You’re really going to move here with me?"
“Yes love” you say smiling. He beams at you, his whole face lighting up with happiness. Alejandro pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you in a possessive grip.
"I can’t believe it," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and joy. "I’ll get to wake up to you every morning, to hold you every night." Alejandro buries his face into your neck, his breath hot against your skin, as he continues to hold you tightly.
"I’ve missed waking up with you," he whispers, his words a soft confession, "I’ve missed the sound of your voice first thing in the morning, the feeling of you next to me. It drove me crazy."
Your heart flutters at his words and you smile. “I missed everything about you too, but now we'll make up for all the lost time” you say softly. His fingers trail across your skin, tracing soft patterns over your back. "Now," he murmurs, his voice roughened with a hint of hunger, "I’ll be able to hear you every day, to feel you every night."
His lips find a sensitive spot on your neck, and he nips at the skin gently, a low noise of approval escaping his lips. He kisses and nips at your neck and jaw, his touch both reverent and possessive.
You sigh blissfully happy, because you finally feel alive, as if every piece of the puzzle of your existence has fit together perfectly. Now you are ready to start a new chapter in your life, full of hope, dreams and love that fills your heart with light.
