Heavy Love
Summary: Carlos got a surgery of his appendix but that doesn't stop him from treating his girl how he usually does
Song: Heavy Love - Odetari
Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶
Word count: 4.8k
MASTERLIST - F1
The fluorescent lights of the hospital room hummed, a sterile symphony that did little to soothe the anxiety churning in your stomach.
Carlos lay in the bed, pale but smiling, a testament to the surgery that had sliced through his appendix just days ago. You sat beside him, a vigil, your hand hovering just above his, afraid to touch too hard.
"You okay, babe?" he asked, his voice a little weaker than usual, but with that familiar teasing glint in his eyes.
"Yeah, just... thinking," you replied, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Thinking about how much better you're going to feel when you're fully recovered."
He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made you wince internally. "You think I don't feel good now? I've got you here, fussing over me like a mother hen. What could be better?"
You shot him a playful glare. "Don't get cute. You nearly died. A burst appendix is not a joke, Carlos."
"I know, I know," he conceded, his smile softening. He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. "But I'm here, thanks to you. You got me to the hospital in time."
You squeezed his hand gently, relief washing over you. "I was so scared."
The days that followed were a blur of cautious optimism and tireless care. You transformed into his personal nurse, meticulously following the doctor's instructions, making sure he took his medication, and preparing bland, easily digestible meals.
You read to him, watched movies with him, and kept him company during the endless hours of boredom.
But a strange tension had settled between you, a quiet distance born out of your fear. You were so acutely aware of his fragile state, of the stitches holding his abdomen together, that you hesitated to be the same way you were before.
Intimacy, once a natural and joyous part of your relationship, now felt like walking on eggshells.
He noticed, of course. Carlos always noticed.
"You're being weird," he said one evening as you were settling him in for the night.
"Weird how?" you asked, avoiding his gaze as you adjusted his pillows.
"Like you're afraid to breathe too loud in case I shatter," he chuckled.
"Don't be silly," you mumbled, fiddling with the remote control.
"Come on, be honest. You're acting like I'm made of glass. I appreciate the care, I really do. But you're treating me like I'm some delicate porcelain doll."
You finally met his eyes, your own filled with a mixture of worry and guilt. "I just… I don't want to hurt you. You're still recovering. What if I accidentally put pressure on your stitches, or something?"
He sighed, reaching for your hand again. "You're not going to hurt me. I know you're being careful."
"But…" you started to protest.
"But nothing," he interrupted gently. "I miss you. I miss us. And I'm not talking about running a marathon or anything. I just miss being close."
Your heart ached at his words. You missed it too, more than you could say. You missed the way he would pull you into his arms, the warmth of his body against yours, the feeling of being completely and utterly safe.
But the fear was a powerful force, a constant reminder of his recent brush with mortality.
"I don't know, Carlos," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. "I'm just so afraid of doing something wrong."
He pulled you closer, his arm carefully encircling your waist. "Hey," he murmured, his voice soothing. "Look at me. I know you're scared. But I'm okay. I promise. And I trust you. I trust you to be careful."
He leaned in and kissed you softly, a chaste, lingering kiss that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn't the passionate, all-consuming kisses you were used to, but it was enough to remind you of the deep connection you shared.
"Please," he whispered against your lips. "Don't let this surgery change everything between us."
Over the next few weeks, you started to relax, to trust yourself and trust Carlos. You still took precautions, of course. You avoided strenuous activities and made sure he didn't overexert himself. But you also allowed yourselves to rediscover the intimacy you had lost.
Slowly, tentatively, you began to rebuild the bridge that fear had threatened to destroy. You started with simple things – cuddling on the couch while watching movies, holding hands during walks, sharing gentle kisses.
You talked, really talked, about your fears and anxieties, and about the importance of physical touch in your relationship.
One evening, as you were preparing dinner, Carlos came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You stiffened slightly, your muscles tensing in anticipation.
"Relax," he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "I just want to hold you."
You leaned back against him, letting his warmth seep into you. "Are you sure you're okay?" you asked, your voice still laced with concern.
He chuckled. "I'm fine. You're not going to break me by standing here."
You closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar scent. "I love you," you whispered.
"I love you too," he replied, squeezing you tighter. "More than a functioning appendix can ever express."
You laughed, the sound lighter and more joyful than it had been in weeks.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked.
You smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached your eyes. "You don't have to ask."
He leaned in and kissed you, a slow, passionate kiss that deepened with each passing moment. You ran your fingers through his hair, relishing the feel of his body against yours.
When you finally broke apart, breathless, he looked at you with a hopeful expression. "Can we…?" he started, then hesitated. "Can we be… closer?"
You knew what he was asking. The fear was still there, lurking in the back of your mind, but it was no longer as overwhelming as it had been. You trusted him, and you trusted yourself.
"Yes," you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. "But we take it slow, okay? And if anything hurts, you tell me immediately."
He grinned, his eyes sparkling with joy. "Deal."
"Wait until after dinner though," you muttered, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "I don't want to get distracted and burn the food."
Carlos pouted, his eyes drifting to the tray of hospital cuisine that had been delivered earlier. "But I hate this hospital food," he begged.
"Nope, you have to eat," you said firmly, placing a hand on his cheek. "Do it for me." You tried to make it sound like a playful dare, but the underlying concern was clear.
He groaned, his eyes drifting to the tray of hospital food that looked as appealing as a soggy cardboard box. "Come on," he whined. "You know how much I hate this stuff."
"I do," you said, your voice laced with amusement. "But it's part of the deal. You want to get better, right?"
With a dramatic sigh, he picked up his plastic fork and poked at the lifeless pile of food on his tray. "Fine," he grumbled, taking a tiny bite. "But you're going to pay for this later."
You couldn't help but laugh, the tension between you momentarily easing. "How about I make you a deal?" you suggested. "If you eat all of this, I'll give you a little something extra to make it worth your while."
His eyes lit up. "What kind of extra?"
You leaned closer, your breath tickling his ear. "The kind of extra that involves me, you, and a lot of gentle touches."
He swallowed hard, the food suddenly seeming a bit more palatable. "Deal," he said, attacking the meal with renewed enthusiasm.
Each bite he took was a silent declaration of his love and desire for you, his stomach grumbling in protest but his resolve unwavering. You watched him with a smile, feeling a thrill of excitement building in your core.
As he worked his way through the meal, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to the promise you had made. Your body grew warm with anticipation, and you felt the familiar ache between your legs.
You had missed this, the thrill of the chase, the delicious buildup to something so much more satisfying than any meal could ever be.
When the last bite was gone, he looked at you expectantly. "Well?"
You took a deep breath, your hand shaking slightly as you reached for the tray. "Alright, you win," you said, setting it aside. "But only because you ate all your food."
He grinned mischievously. "I'm not just playing for fun, you know," he murmured, his hand sliding down to your waist, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip.
You felt your cheeks flush as you turned to face him. "What do you mean?"
Carlos' grin grew wider, his eyes darkening with desire. "I mean, I've missed feeling your body against mine, your breath on my skin, your touch driving me wild."
His hand moved to your cheek, his thumb tracing your jawline. "I want you, all of you. But we're going to take it slow, just like you said."
Your heart raced as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, tentative kiss. His movements were cautious, as if he was afraid to startle you or cause him any pain.
You melted into him, the gentle pressure of his mouth on yours sending waves of need crashing through your body. Your hands found his shoulders, holding him close, as you deepened the kiss.
"Carlos," you murmured against his mouth, your voice filled with a desperation that had been building for weeks.
He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes for any signs of doubt. "Are you sure?"
You nodded, your pulse pounding in your throat. "Yes. I need this. We need this."
He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes. "Okay, then. But…" he paused, his brow furrowing slightly. "We have to be careful. I don't want to rip my stitches."
You chuckled, relief flooding through you. "Believe me, I'm acutely aware of your stitches. We'll take it very, very slow."
He nodded, his eyes still filled with that hopeful look that made you want to do anything for him.
You moved closer, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose before trailing your lips down to the corner of his mouth, feeling the stubble of his unshaven cheek against your skin.
His eyes fluttered closed, a contented sigh escaping his lips as you continued to explore his face with gentle pecks.
"I've missed this," he whispered, his hand moving to the small of your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine.
You nodded, feeling the same longing. "Me too."
Taking his hand in yours, you led him to the bedroom, the dim light of the hallway casting shadows that danced across the wall. The room was filled with the faint scent of his cologne, a comforting reminder of the life you shared before the surgery.
You helped him onto the bed, his weight shifting the mattress beneath you as he settled in, wincing slightly at the movement.
You took a moment to admire him, his strong frame now marred by the surgery scar that snaked under the bandages across his abdomen.
The sight of it brought back the fear of that night, the helplessness you felt as you watched the doctor's face grow grim with the news of his condition. But here he was, alive and with you, and that was all that mattered.
"Lay down," you instructed softly, your voice a gentle command that made him comply without question.
The bedroom was a sanctuary, a place where you had shared countless moments of passion before the surgery. Now, it was a battleground of nerves and anticipation. You approached him with the grace of a gazelle, each step measured and careful.
"I'm okay," he reassured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the air. "Really."
You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the last few weeks slowly lifting from your shoulders. You straddled his legs, his hands coming up to rest gently on your thighs.
The fabric of your pajamas was the only barrier between his skin and yours, a barrier that was suddenly unbearable.
"Can I take these off?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
"If you promise to be gentle," he said with a hint of a smirk.
You nodded, your fingers trembling slightly as you began to peel back the bandages. The stark white of the gauze was a stark contrast to the tanned skin of his stomach.
You took a moment to examine the neat line of his incision, the skin around it slightly pink and tender. You kissed it softly, feeling the warmth of his body under your lips.
"Careful," he warned, his eyes half-closed with pleasure.
You nodded, taking in the sight of his body before you. You had seen him naked countless times before, but this was different. There was a newfound respect, a newfound gentleness in the way you regarded his body now.
Each scar, each imperfection, was a testament to his strength and the life you had together.
You began to kiss him again, starting at his forehead, moving down to his cheeks, his neck, his collarbone. Each kiss was a declaration of your love and your care, a promise to be gentle, to cherish him.
Your mouth found the pulse at the base of his neck, his heartbeat a steady rhythm that matched yours. You felt his breathing quicken, his body responding to your touch.
He reached up, his hand cupping the back of your head as he guided your mouth back to his. His kisses grew more insistent, his tongue sliding against yours, a silent plea for more.
You felt your body come alive, the ache between your legs growing more intense.
As you kissed him, you felt his hand slide under the fabric of your shirt, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin of your back. He groaned, the sound resonating through your body like a physical caress.
It was a sound that had always made you melt, a sound that had always meant he wanted more, needed more, and now it was back, a sweet reminder of the passion you shared.
You pulled away for a moment, looking into his eyes. "Are you okay?" you asked, the question almost redundant as the desire in his gaze was answer enough.
He groaned, not from pain but from pure need. "More than okay," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.
Encouraged by his response, you allowed his hands to roam, feeling the warmth of his palms as they glided over your skin.
They traced the contours of your body, exploring every curve and dip with a reverence that made you feel cherished, desired despite his weakened state. His thumbs grazed the sensitive skin of your ribcage, sending shivers up your spine.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours.
You blushed, feeling vulnerable and exposed. "You make me feel like it," you whispered.
As your kisses grew more fervent, you became acutely aware of your weight, the softness of your body that you had always loved, and sometimes loathed. You shifted slightly, trying to balance yourself so that you weren't putting too much pressure on his stitches.
The thought of causing him pain was unbearable, so you carefully placed your hands on his chest, using your arms to hold yourself up as you kissed him.
"Put all your weight on me," Carlos murmured, his eyes open and searching yours for any sign of hesitation.
You bit your bottom lip, feeling the heat of his body beneath you. The urge to give in was strong, but the fear of causing him pain held you back. "I don't want to hurt you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.
"Trust me, I've got you," he said, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. "I can handle it."
You took a deep breath and did as he asked, feeling the softness of your flesh pressing against the firmness of his abdomen. The sensation was strange at first, a mix of fear and excitement.
But as he kissed you harder, as his hands roamed over your back and his hips began to move slightly beneath you, the fear melted away, leaving only desire.
You felt the heat of his skin, the steady throb of his heart against your palms. His breaths grew quicker, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.
The sensation was exquisite, a gentle reminder of the passion that had always burned between you. You could feel his erection growing, pressing against your center, but you held back, not wanting to push him too far, too fast.
"We can stop," you whispered, your voice laced with concern.
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "No, please don't stop." His voice was thick with need, the words a desperate plea.
You leaned back slightly, breaking the kiss to remove your shirt, revealing your braless breasts to the cool air of the room. His eyes followed the movement, dark with desire.
You watched as his hand hovered over the fabric of your pajama pants, his knuckles brushing against the swollen bud of your clit. You gasped, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body.
"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice a strained whisper.
You nodded, unable to form coherent words as his hand slipped under the waistband, his fingers finding your slick heat. He stroked you gently, his movements tentative and careful, as if he was worried that even the slightest touch would shatter you.
But as he grew more confident, his touch grew bolder, his thumb circling your clit as his fingers delved deeper.
Your hips began to rock against his hand, the pleasure building with each stroke. You moaned into his neck, your teeth grazing his skin, leaving a trail of kisses along his collarbone.
His breaths grew shallower, his hand moving faster as he matched the rhythm of your movements.
"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with amazement and hunger. "You're always so wet for me."
You felt your cheeks flush with heat at his words. "It's just… you make me feel so… alive."
He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your chest. "Good to know I still have that effect on you."
You leaned down to kiss him again, your tongues dancing together as your bodies grew more in sync. His other hand found your breast, his thumb brushing against the tightened peak of your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.
As you reached down to undo the button of his pants, he stopped you, his hand covering yours. "Let me," he said, his voice strained with effort.
With trembling hands, he managed to open his fly, the sound of the zipper echoing in the quiet room. His erection sprang free, a testament to his desire.
You felt your own need growing, a warm ache that spread from your core to every part of your body. You reached out tentatively, wrapping your hand around his length, feeling the pulse of his blood beneath your fingertips.
"Careful," he warned, his voice tight with arousal.
You nodded, stroking him slowly, savoring the velvety feel of his skin against your palm. His eyes fell closed, his head tilting back into the pillow as he let out a low groan.
You watched him, memorizing the way his chest rose and fell, the way his abs tensed with each breath. You felt a strange mix of tenderness and hunger, a desire to both protect and claim him.
The sight of his scar, a stark reminder of his vulnerability, only served to fuel your passion.
As you worked your hand up and down his shaft, you leaned in to kiss him again, feeling his hips shift beneath you, urging you closer. The kiss grew deeper, his tongue sliding against yours in a silent demand for more.
Your body responded, arching into him, seeking the contact that you had been denied for so long.
"I need you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.
You nodded, understanding the desperation in his words. You leaned back, sliding off his pants and boxers, exposing him fully to the cool air. His cock stood at attention, a silent plea for your touch.
You kissed your way down his body, your mouth worshipping every inch of his skin. Your breasts brushed against his thighs as you moved, sending waves of sensation through you.
Positioning yourself above him, you hovered, your pussy mere inches from his erection. His hands tightened on your thighs, urging you closer.
You paused, looking down at him, his eyes full of need. The weight of his gaze was almost too much to bear, but the fear was still there, whispering in the back of your mind.
"I'm okay," he assured you, his voice strained with want. "I need you, baby. I need to feel you."
You took a deep breath and allowed yourself to sink down, feeling the tip of his cock press against your opening. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt through your body.
You hesitated, waiting for any sign of pain from him. When he only moaned in pleasure, you began to lower yourself, inch by delicious inch.
His cock slid into you, filling you completely. You bit your bottom lip to stifle a moan, feeling a mix of pleasure and relief. It had been too long since you had felt this connection, too long since you had been this intimate.
His eyes never left yours, his expression one of pure adoration.
"Oh, Carlos," you murmured, his name a prayer on your lips.
He groaned, his hips lifting slightly to meet yours. You began to move, the rhythm slow and steady. Each movement was a declaration of your love, a gentle dance that you both knew so well.
You could feel his cock stretching you, the sensation of fullness that you had missed for weeks. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and valley with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes.
You leaned back, sitting up straight as you rode him. The new angle allowed you to take him deeper, the feeling of him inside you making you dizzy with pleasure.
Your breasts bounced with each movement, the tips tightening with every stroke. His eyes never left you, drinking in the sight of your body, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs playing with your nipples.
The friction grew, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. The ache between your legs grew stronger, your body begging for release. You leaned back further, placing your hands on his thighs for support.
The new angle allowed you to grind against him, the pressure building with every move. You watched his face, the way his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth gritted with each thrust.
"Mi amor," he whispered, the Spanish endearment rolling off his tongue like a warm caress. His hand slid down to the small of your back, guiding you, urging you to move in a way that brought him the most pleasure.
You felt a warmth spread through your body, a gentle wave of passion that grew stronger with every beat of his heart. You knew he was holding back, trying not to let the pain of his recent surgery overwhelm him.
But you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with each movement. It was a dance you knew well, a delicate balance of pleasure and pain.
Leaning forward, you kissed him again, your mouths moving in a silent conversation of love and lust. His hands found their way to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he urged you faster.
Your breasts pressed against his chest, the friction of your bodies setting your nerves alight. The room felt like it was spinning, the only anchor the warmth of his cock inside you.
"Más," he murmured, the word a plea that sent your body into overdrive. You picked up the pace, your hips moving in a rhythm that was as natural as breathing.
His breath grew ragged, his grip on your hips tightening as you rode him. His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours. "Te amo," he said, the words a declaration that sent a shiver down your spine. "I love you."
You felt the orgasm build, a coil of pleasure that grew tighter with each stroke. You whispered the words back, the English translation feeling inadequate next to the Spanish. But you knew he understood, knew that your love was as deep and vast as the ocean.
His eyes searched yours, the depths of his love and desire reflecting in their dark pools. You felt his muscles tense beneath you, his cock swell even further inside you.
You knew he was close, could feel the tremor in his hands, the way his hips jerked with each movement.
"I'm going to come," he warned, his voice tight with restraint.
You nodded, feeling the same urgency building within you. Your walls tightened around him, the sensation of his impending release sending you hurtling towards your own climax. His eyes never left yours, the connection between you palpable.
You felt the muscles in his abdomen contract, a silent promise of the pleasure to come.
With a final, deep thrust, you felt him release inside you, his warmth filling you completely. Your own orgasm crashed over you, waves of pleasure that made your vision blur and your body quiver.
You collapsed onto him, your chest heaving as you both fought to catch your breath. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly as if he never wanted to let go.
The feel of his heart hammering against your cheek was a sweet symphony that only the two of you could understand.
"I love you," you murmured into his neck, feeling the sticky sweat on his skin.
"Te amo," he replied, his voice hoarse.
You remained still for a moment, basking in the afterglow, the fear of his fragility forgotten in the face of the overwhelming love you felt. But as your breathing slowed, the reality of his condition began to creep back in.
You lifted yourself off of him, careful not to cause any discomfort.
"How are you feeling?" you asked, your voice filled with concern.
He winced slightly as you moved, his hand coming to rest on the bandage across his stomach. "I'm okay," he assured you. "A little sore, but nothing I can't handle."
You kissed the spot gently, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric. "Thank you," you whispered. "For letting me… for being so patient."
He chuckled, the sound a little strained. "What can I say, I'm a trooper."
You couldn't help but laugh, the tension in the room dissipating like mist in the morning sun. "Yes, you are," you said, your eyes sparkling with affection.
The days that followed were a gentle reawakening of your love, a rediscovery of the passion that had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface. Each touch was a declaration of your care and desire, each kiss a promise that you would always be there for him.
One morning, you awoke to the feeling of his hand on your hip, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. You rolled over to face him, his eyes already open, watching you with a soft smile.
"Morning," he murmured, leaning in to kiss you.
You returned the kiss, feeling the warmth of his breath on your cheek. "Morning," you murmured back.
He shifted, his hand sliding down to cup your ass, pulling you closer. "Ready for round two?" he asked, his voice filled with mischief.
You raised an eyebrow, smiling despite yourself. "You're not going to let me have a break?" you said, feigning exasperation.
Carlos' grin widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "What? You don't want to?"
You playfully slapped his chest, unable to resist the flirty banter. "You're insatiable," you said, your voice filled with affection.
He chuckled, his grip tightening on your ass. "Only when it comes to you."
You felt a warm blush creep up your cheeks. "Well, if you promise to be gentle…"
"Always," he assured you, his voice a low, seductive rumble. . . .
