future
☕︎ summary: You and Izzy are breaking in the house's new pool, talking about the future.
☕︎ warnings: 18+ content, mdni., smut, speaking of the future.
notes: Hi everyone, I pop up every now and then… this time I wanted to do something more laid-back—nothing too detailed or demanding to read—keeping in mind that English isn't my native language.
The pool water is warm, heated by the relentless California sun that gilds its bluish surface. The sky is cloudless,
a vast and endless blanket of pale blue, and the only constant sound is the dry rustling of palm leaves swaying in the warm wind and the gentle splashing of water as you move, breaking the calm of the late afternoon.
You float on your back for a few seconds, keeping your eyes closed, allowing the weight of your own body to disappear into the water and the noise of the outside world to become just a muffled echo.
— What are you thinking about?— Izzy's husky voice asks, very close, breaking the silence like a familiar whisper that always manages to bring you back to reality.
When you open your eyes, the brightness makes your vision burn for a moment before focusing on him. Izzy is leaning against the edge of the pool, his arms crossed on the hot, rough concrete. His dark, disheveled hair is completely wet, sticking to his forehead and falling over his face. He smiles in that discreet, corner-of-the-mouth way, a genuine, tired expression that rarely appears in promotional photos or on brightly lit stages around the world.
Nothing important — you reply, letting your body sink a little further, feeling the warmth of the sun on your face in contrast to the coolness of the water.
— Lies,— he retorts immediately, his dark eyes fixed on hers, deciphering every line of her expression with the ease of someone who knows all her secrets.
You laugh, a soft sound that dissipates the remaining tension that still lingered in the air. — And you?
He shrugs, a subtle movement that makes the water ripple around his chest, and glances at the horizon for a brief second before replying:
In everything.
You swim toward him with slow, almost silent movements, cutting through the warm water, and rest your elbows on the edge, staying by his side, so close you can feel the warmth emanating from his skin. For a few moments, neither of you speaks; words seem unnecessary in the immensity of that moment. There is no need to fill the space
with noise, for the silence between you has never been uncomfortable, always functioning as a refuge where you both could exist.
After a few minutes that seemed suspended in time, Izzy sighed heavily, her chest rising and falling in a way that betrayed the accumulated fatigue of months on the road.
— The band is... acting strange.
You observe him from the side, noticing the small lines around his eyes, marks of sleepless nights and a pressure that few could withstand.
— Strange how?
— Too big — he confesses, his voice dropping a tone, laden with a melancholy he rarely let show to the rest of the world.
He ran a heavy hand through his wet hair, tossing it back in a gesture that mixed frustration and despondency. — It seems like everything has become a business. Meetings, managers, interviews, contracts… When we started, it was just playing in someone's garage, feeling the energy of the sound. Now it seems like the music is the smallest part of it all, an excuse for everything else to function.
You let out a small — hum,— taking in the weight of that statement, knowing how much the purity of art meant to him. — You miss the beginning, when things were simple.
— I feel it,— he says, and the word echoes between you, devoid of any pride, raw and painfully honest.
Another long pause follows, where the only sounds are the rustling of palm trees and the distant murmur of the city they were trying to ignore.
— But maybe I miss the person I was back then, before all this swallowed up who I thought I was,— he adds, his eyes fixed on an invisible point at the bottom of the pool.
You notice a different weight in his voice, a dark and vulnerable vibe that sets off an alarm bell in your chest.
— Did something happen that you didn't tell me about?
He hesitates to answer, his lips slightly parted as if he were weighing each word, gauging the size of the abyss he was about to reveal. — No... it's just that... I'm tired,— he finally says, and the admission seems to drain the last of his strength.
— From the tour? From the travels?
— Everything. Having to be Izzy all the time, never being able to switch off.
He plunges his face in for a few seconds, submerging it completely in the warm water just to wet his eyes and wash away the sweat and intrusive thoughts once more.
When he resurfaces, his hair sticks even more to his skin, and he stares intently at the distorted reflections of the sun on the water instead of looking directly at you, as if he needs a visual shield.
— Have you ever noticed that we're always chasing after the next thing, as if the present is never enough?— he asks, his tone almost philosophical, yet deeply bitter.
You frown, turning your body slightly towards him, trying to decipher the direction of that conversation.
— What do you mean, Izzy?
— Next show. Next party to celebrate the show. Next drink to get through the party. Next line of coke to cope with the drinking. Next drug to finally be able to sleep after it all.
The last word comes out almost like a whisper that the wind almost carries away, but which hits you with the force of a punch to the gut.
— You remain silent, paralyzed by the starkness of the confession, feeling the weight of that destructive mechanism that had been a part of his life for so long.
He laughs humorlessly, a dry sound devoid of any joy that cuts through the peaceful afternoon atmosphere.
— Funny, isn't it? For years, it seemed like it made sense, that it was the fuel needed to endure the hardship, the price one paid for success.
You know exactly what he's talking about; after all, you were there, witnessing firsthand the excesses, the highs and lows, and the early mornings when the sparkle in his eyes disappeared behind a chemical haze.
It was never a taboo subject among you, but it was rarely addressed with such clarity and lack of defensiveness.
— And now?— you ask softly, subtly extending your hand toward him.
He shakes his head slowly, his teary eyes reflecting the light of the late afternoon.
— Now I use it... and it feels empty. It doesn't fill anything; it just digs an even bigger hole inside.
You feel a painful tightness in your chest, a mixture of relief at hearing him speak and fear of the depth of the pain he was hiding. Izzy was never one to say what he felt, always preferring to hide behind his compositions or silence; when he did say something like that, it was because he had been carrying it on his shoulders for a long time, too heavy to bear
alone.
— It's not fun anymore, is it?— you state, your voice soft, offering him a safe space to break down.
— No. It stopped being that a long time ago,— he replies, and the fragility in his voice breaks down any barrier that might still have remained between you.
— Doesn't it help to escape anymore?
— No, not that either. It just makes me feel more trapped.
He rubs the back of his neck forcefully, trying to relieve the physical tension that seemed to tense all his muscles.
— It just seems like... a cursed habit. A mechanical routine that I follow because I've forgotten what it's like to live any other way.
The wind blows a little colder between you, making your damp skin tingle and carrying the scent of garden flowers. You slide your hand through the warm water and gently hold his hand underwater, intertwining your fingers with his, feeling the firmness and warmth of his skin.
— Do you want to stop?— you ask, placing all your soul and support in that simple question.
He looks down, watching your fingers intertwined beneath the blue ripples of the pool, as if that union were the only real thing there.
— I think so,— he replies, and the certainty in his voice, though shy, is the most beautiful thing you've ever heard.
The answer comes out quietly, almost fading into thin air, but it carries the weight of a life-changing decision. Honest, devoid of any artifice. Without the indestructible rockstar pose that the world demanded of him daily.
— I'm afraid,— he confesses, and for the first time you see a shadow of pure terror cross his face.
You squeeze his hand tighter, conveying all the confidence you possess through that touch.
— What about, my love?
— To discover who I am without it. To realize that if I take away the music and the drugs, there's nothing left inside.
You smile calmly, a warm smile that seeks to ward off all the ghosts that haunted you.
— I think I already know this guy, and he's the best part of all this.
He finally looks away from the water and stares directly at you, and the vastness of his dark eyes seems noticeably lighter, as if a dam were about to break.
— Do you really think so?— he asks, seeking validation that he rarely asked of anyone.
— I think so. I'm sure,— you reply, holding his gaze firmly.
He lets out a small laugh, the tension leaving the corners of his mouth as he absorbs her words.
— You always believed in me more than I believed in myself, from day one.
You give his wet shoulder a light, playful nudge, breaking the drama's peak with a lightness that only the two of you possessed.
— It's part of my job, you know?
— Your job?— he repeats, raising an eyebrow, a playful glint finally returning to his eyes.
— Dating you. Someone has to support you when you forget how amazing you are.
He laughs genuinely this time, a sound that fills the space around them in a comforting way.
A short but genuine laugh, the kind that changes the energy of the room and makes your chest expand with relief.
After a few more minutes observing the calm movement of the water, silence returns, but now in a welcoming way, and he speaks again in a deeper, more focused tone.
— Can I tell you something? Something I've never said out loud to anyone?
— Always. You know that's true.
He takes a deep breath, expanding his lungs with the warm California air, preparing to reveal an even deeper secret.
— I never imagined I'd be thinking about this when I was thirty; I thought I'd die young like everyone else.
— What are you thinking about?— you encourage, gently stroking the back of his hand with your thumb.
He hesitates for a moment, his eyes wavering. For the first time since you two started talking that afternoon, he seems genuinely shy about his own desires.
— Having a home,— he blurts out, the word sounding almost strange coming from someone who has lived in tour buses and hotel rooms for the past ten years.
You raise an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by the drastic shift in his thinking.
— A house? Like, putting down roots somewhere?—
— Yeah,— he confirms, his face blushing subtly under the sun's tan. He smiles, almost embarrassed to reveal such a domestic and common dream. — You know, one of those with a big balcony? The kind you sit in at the end of the day and watch the time go by.
You can't hide your surprise; the image of the rebellious guitarist from the biggest band in the world planning a balcony jump was almost unbelievable.
— Balcony?— you repeat, a laugh threatening to escape.
— Don't laugh,— he pleads, though there's a knowing glint in his eyes.
— I'm not laughing!— you lie, trying to bite your lower lip to contain your joy.
— Yes, I can see your face.
— Just a little bit, I swear. It's just too cute.
He shakes his head, feigning irritation, but the smile on his lips betrays him.
— I wanted a wooden balcony, one of those really traditional ones.
You laugh openly now, captivated by the sweetness of the scene that was beginning to unfold in your mind.
— Okay. A wooden balcony. What else?
— A dog,— he adds, his gaze drifting back to the horizon as he surveys the scene.
— Okay, a dog is a good start.
— Maybe two, so they won't be alone when we need to go out.
— Two dogs? Are you going to take care of them?
— I'll go. I'll provide food and everything,— he assures, seriously.
You move even closer and rest your head on his damp shoulder, feeling the scent of chlorine and sun on your skin, comforted by his embrace.
Keep going, I'm enjoying this story.
He wraps his left arm around her waist underwater, pulling her body against his in a possessive and affectionate gesture.
— A place far from Los Angeles, far away from all that futility and smoke.
—
Hmm... that sounds perfect. Where would it be?
— I don't know, maybe in the countryside, somewhere green. Where nobody calls me in the middle of the night wanting to know what party I'm at or who I went out with.
You smile against the skin of his shoulder, feeling a deep peace settle within you.
— It sounds good. It sounds like a perfect dream, Izzy.
He falls silent again, the rhythm of his breathing slowing as the sun begins to touch the tops of the palm trees, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Then he says, almost in a whisper directed at her ear, his voice filled with such pure emotion that it makes her stomach churn: — And children.
You immediately lift your face, turning away just enough to look at him, your heart leaping erratically.
He continues staring intently at the water, afraid to see her reaction, the knuckles of his free hand slightly white with tension.
— I never talked about this before because it seemed impossible, a reality that didn't fit with the chaos I chose for myself,— he confesses, justifying his years of silence.
You say nothing, paralyzed by the impact of that word coming from him, the man whom many considered incapable of committing to anything.
He continues, his voice taking on a soft, almost poetic cadence.
— But now, looking at you here...
Her throat tightened, a knot of pure emotion preventing any sound from escaping her mouth as tears began to press into her eyes. — Now I'm imagining what it would be like if we changed the script,— he says, his eyes shining.
You wait, holding your breath, wanting to hear every detail of that utopian future.
You chase a child through the tall grass in the yard, laughing in that way that only you laugh when you're truly happy. An involuntary, trembling smile appears on her face, tears finally overflowing and streaming down her cheeks.
— Me? Pregnant or chasing after a miniature version of yourself?
— You,— he repeats with conviction.
He finally looks you straight in the eye, his dark eyes devoid of any doubt, shining with an intensity you'd never seen before.
— And I was complaining, pretending to be angry because she messed with my guitars and ruined them all.
You laugh through your tears, the image so absurdly beautiful it almost feels painful.
— Her? You want a girl?
— Or him, it doesn't matter.
— OK, I understand.
— It doesn't really matter.
A few more seconds of sacred silence pass, where the future finally seems tangible, within reach.
— I just wanted... a family,— he says, and the word — family— takes on a sacred weight in his mouth.
Her heart seemed to slow down inside her chest, beating at a calm, measured pace, in perfect sync with his.
— With you. It only makes sense if it's with you — he finishes, offering his heart on a silver platter.
The words hang suspended between you, floating in the warm evening air like a silent and indestructible promise.
There's no rush to get a response, and no need for a grand gesture.
No media spectacle, no spotlights, no public pressure.
There's no audience to applaud or judge your love.
Simply the purest and clearest truth from two hearts weary of the world's noise.
You bring one hand close to his face, feeling the warm, rough skin from the stubble, and gently brush away a wet strand of hair that stubbornly fell over his dark eyes.
— I thought you'd never say this out loud; I thought you'd keep this dream forever deep in your heart,— you confess, your voice breaking.
He smiles, a relieved and open smile that lights up his whole face, transforming the tired man from minutes ago into someone full of hope.
— I thought so too. But I'm tired of being afraid of what I really want.
You move closer and kiss his forehead, a lingering touch full of respect and promise.
Then, she slid her lips to his cheek, feeling the texture of his skin and the warmth rising from it. Then, finally, he finds her lips.
A lingering, tranquil kiss, without urgency, without the chaotic electricity of concert nights, but with the depth of a calm ocean that welcomes and heals.
When you two pull apart just a few millimeters, Izzy rests her forehead against yours, your breaths mingling as the sun finally begins to set on the California horizon.
— I don't know how long the band can continue like this; I don't know if I can handle another year at this pace,— he admits, the ghost of reality knocking at the door.
You gently stroke the nape of their neck, your fingers tracing soothing circles at the base of their neck.
— =We'll figure it out together, step by step. You don't need to have all the answers today.
— I don't know what my life will be like from now on if I decide to throw in the towel and leave everything behind,— he murmurs, closing his eyes to feel her touch.
Find out together too. I'm not going anywhere, Izzy. Wherever you go, I'll be there.
He closes his eyes tightly, absorbing the magnitude of his loyalty, his eyelids trembling slightly.
— Would you really give up all this madness for me?— he asks, his voice faltering.
— What? The whole package?
— All of this. This normal, peaceful life that I just invented. — You smile, letting the certainty of your love guide your words.
— The balcony with the tall grass.
He laughs, a low, hoarse sound against his lips.
— The dogs were running everywhere.
— Yes, definitely.
— The children are making a mess of the whole house.
You feel your eyes welling up again, but this time with a pure, overflowing happiness.
— That's mainly it, Izzy, especially the children.
He takes a deep breath, a long, unimpeded sound, as if an enormous, invisible weight of expectations, fame, and addictions has finally been lifted from his shoulders after years of silent torture.
Around you, the world outside continues exactly as it is, spinning in its chaotic and noisy orbit.
He has scheduled world tours in large arenas that will demand a lot from him.
Press conferences waiting for answers he doesn't want to give.
Newspapers and magazines speculate daily about the band's end or future.
Extravagant parties taking place in some luxurious Los Angeles mansion just a few kilometers away.
But in that moment frozen in time, none of that seems to matter or have any power over the two of you.
There is only the comforting sound of water moving around their bodies.
His hands were firm and intertwined with hers, a bond that nothing seemed capable of breaking.
And for the first time in a very, very long time, the future doesn't seem scary, gray, or dangerous.
It simply looks like... a home ready to be built on.
Without time to respond or think, he smiles, immediately returning her frantic and quick kiss, abruptly breaking the calm and melancholy that had lingered seconds before. Swift and voracious, your tongues intertwine deliriously within seconds of the eager meeting of lips, exploring each other's mouths in pure ecstasy. It was such an overwhelming feeling that you both knew, at that moment, that you could spend the whole day there, experiencing each other's tastes and bodies in that refreshing pool, isolated from the world.
Her nails scratch forcefully at the nape of Izzy's neck, eliciting a subtle, needy gasp from the musician during the kiss. In response, he pulls her waist with firm hands, leaving their bodies literally pressed together underwater; instinctively, one of her legs crosses his hip, seeking even more closeness, clinging to that solidity.
But the urgency was short-lived, as the shortness of breath resulting from the intensity set in far too quickly. You sigh in frustration as you separate by mere centimeters, but Izzy, unfazed and driven by renewed audacity, doesn't hesitate. Fearlessly and with the skill of someone who knows every inch of you, he reaches for the clasp of your swim bra underwater. He opens it precisely and, provocatively, begins to remove it, sliding the straps slowly across your shoulders, allowing your bare skin to feel the warmth of the California sun.
Her face instantly flushes. A wave of insecurity, that old acquaintance that used to visit her in her most vulnerable moments, knocks on her door for the first time since she entered the water with him. Her breasts are full, far from discreet, and although she carries more confidence today, the memory of teenage nights crying and wishing her own body were different still echoes somewhere in her mind
When the swimsuit is completely removed, you close your eyes, afraid to meet his dark eyes and read any reaction. The light, warm wind blowing through the garden makes your nipples instantly harden, and a trembling sigh escapes your lips.
nervous.
As if perfectly reading his thoughts—a connection only the two of them possessed—and wanting to banish every ghost of his insecurity, Izzy spreads his large, calloused hand around his right breast. He massages it with an adorable and reverent slowness, while his warm lips find the soft skin of his neck. He distributes light bites and exciting licks that elicit...
Deep shivers ran through her body, calming her heart while making her belly throb.
You become completely breathless. He trails his calm lips down your pale skin, tracing a path of pleasant
shivers down your chest. The lower he goes, tasting you, the more your body desperately craves the encounter of his wet mouth with your breasts, which cry out for desire.
— Perfect!— Izzy murmurs against your skin, his voice even hoarser, grazing the sensitive and much-desired area. He lets out a short laugh, almost a tender mockery, noticing that you held your breath, longing for his touch.
Provocative as always, he walks straight between them, subverting your expectation and making you let out a frustrated moan against his shoulder.
He continues to trail kisses down her stomach, until the warm pool water begins to cover her skin. It was in this movement that his body brushed forcefully against her thigh, and she could feel, with perfect clarity, his already rigid and throbbing member against his swim trunks. Her entire being writhed in pure anticipation; it was impressive how his subtle touch and mere presence had the undeniable power to ignite her libido and set her insides
ablaze.
Already completely aroused and needy, feeling that you couldn't wait another second, you realize that Izzy seems to be in perfect sync with you. He momentarily stops the passionate kisses, and the only thing that reveals the reason is the muffled sound of the fabric of your bikini bottoms tearing underwater, freeing your body from any barrier.
He lifts his face and smiles mischievously, displaying that stubborn boyish expression that hadn't appeared in a long time, while a sharp, shrill moan escapes his throat. Feeling his audacity in sex was completely different from any imagination; the pent-up lust of that afternoon made him imposing.
Giving in to temptation, you raise your hand and slide your fingertips across his defined, wet abdomen, marked by tattoos that tell the story of his life. In response, Izzy raises an eyebrow, holding your gaze with pure magnetism. With a swift movement, he lifts the remaining fabric of his swimsuit above the surface and
casually tosses it into a corner of the concrete pool deck. You bite your lower lip, completely mesmerized by the erotic scene and the absolute dominance he held there, between the sun and the warm water.
He gently pushed her away, his movements slowed by the water, and began to pull down her swim trunks. Since there was nothing underneath, her nakedness was completely exposed to the warm touch of the pool. You
stared at that eager, smiling audacity, letting the rest of the world, the pressures of the band, and the Los Angeles spotlight completely fade from your mind. The sensations he made you feel were so overwhelming that you couldn't describe them in words, but they brought a genuine happiness that filled your chest. And judging by the open, focused smile on his face, it was no different for Izzy.
— Lean against the edge with your back to me…— he asked slowly, his voice even deeper and hoarser, as he took off his own shorts. When he found himself completely naked, his erect and aroused member surfacing among the ripples of the water, you sighed heavily. The sight of that imposing masculinity excited you even more, making you obey immediately. You approached the concrete edge and rested your elbows on the warm tile, shivering at the thermal contrast.
It didn't take long for you to feel his large, firm hands spread across your waist, pulling your hips back. Izzy pressed his tattooed chest against your back and slowly ran his lips over your wet skin, inhaling your scent deeply. Your natural perfume mixed with the sun was intoxicating to him. The musician nestled his nose against the curve of your neck, seeking even more intimate contact, delighting in the needy sighs that escaped your lips.
Instinctively, her hips arched, pressing her buttocks directly against the hardness of his erection, begging for that contact, seeking immediate relief from the growing lust burning between her legs. Smiling at her surrender, the guitarist didn't let go of her neck; he slid one of his calloused hands down the side of her waist to her thigh, sending a violent shiver down her spine. She desperately longed for what came next.
Making his way between her legs underwater, he provocatively slid his fingers across her intimate area. Izzy pressed her inner lips together, already completely sticky and lubricated by her extreme arousal. He began to explore the area with calculated care, moving his fingers slowly to test her limit and tease her. You let out a subtle moan, whispering an almost inaudible — please,— wanting him to go straight to the spot that throbbed with desire.
Before you could plead again, he gripped your hips firmly and lifted your body slightly, positioning the head of his member precisely at your wet entrance. An eager moan escaped you, eliciting a low growl from him.
Izzy's skillful fingers parted your vulva, causing you to lower your head, surrendering to the pleasure, which only intensified when his thumb finally found your clitoris.
— Ah… — the breathless sound of your moan served as music to the man behind you. Izzy bit his lower lip, excited to see your body writhing against his as he began tortuously slow, circular movements with his finger inside you.
Most sensitive spot. You moved your hips seeking more pressure, causing his penis, which continued to press against your entrance, to harden even more, throbbing against your intimacy. — Please… Izzy…
You called out his name in a breathless sigh, and the musician finally lost control. Biting your shoulder hard to stifle his own roar, he gripped your hips with both hands and, in a firm, aggressive thrust, penetrated you all at once, sinking completely into you. You groaned loudly enough for the sound to echo through the garden and the deserted neighborhood, and he didn't hold back, letting out a heavy grunt that vibrated against your back.
Without further waiting or delay, he began a fast, wild back-and-forth rhythm, dictating a delirious cadence that agitated the water around you. You didn't bother to contain yourself or hide the sounds; you moaned loudly
and clearly at the magnitude of the pleasure that this surrender provided. At that moment, it didn't matter who heard how much the man the whole world idolized was making you completely and utterly his. Izzy spoke little, but
let out countless possessive grunts and murmurs right next to your ear with each deep thrust.
Their bodies, joined together, swayed rhythmically as their movements remained accelerated, charged with an intensity and a set of feelings that went far beyond the physical.
His finger continued to move with precision over her clitoris, forcing a devastating wave of pleasure she had never experienced before. Her hands gripped the concrete edge tightly, her nails scratching the surface to keep her steady against the impact of each thrust.
— Damn... you're so hot!— he exclaimed, completely consumed by lust, his movements becoming more abrupt and urgent as the climax approached.
You were almost there. Feeling your intimacy contract tightly, squeezing and crushing his member inside you, you bit your lip. Izzy felt the delicious tightness and, to prolong the moment, moved his hand away from your sensitive spot, keeping both hands firmly on your hips. He increased the speed, going even deeper, and
your moans turned into stifled cries when he reached your deepest point. Your eyes rolled back, and the certainty that your body couldn't take much more took over your being. You remained in that delirious sensation, gripping the concrete with the strength you had left, barely remembering the last time you had felt so alive and fulfilled.
Izzy knew exactly what he was doing, maintaining the perfect rhythm to keep her on the exact edge between sanity and delirium. He knew how to dominate her with just his gaze, whispered words, and the firm touches of the
past few days. You sighed and turned your face slightly back, to glimpse the man who possessed you with such passion. He had broad shoulders tense from the exertion, the muscles of his arms rigid and contracted, and beautiful tattoos outlining his damp skin. You moaned at the sight: the late afternoon sun casting shimmering highlights on his dark hair and his face.
Contorted in the purest and most genuine pleasure. That sight destroyed what little sanity he had left.
An overwhelming wave of electricity coursed through her body as his final thrusts were deep and urgent. Her legs went completely weak underwater, and thankfully, Izzy's firm hands held her tightly by the waist; otherwise, her limp body would have sunk into the pool. A delicious sensation of satisfaction and relief washed over her as she felt the climax approaching, making her moan loudly, releasing all the accumulated tension. Izzy came soon after. After a few more thrusts driven by pure instinct, he let out a deep, prolonged groan, burying himself in her one last time and closing his dark eyes to absorb the intensity of the moment. In that instant, enveloped by the warmth of the water and the peak of pleasure, he seemed to have finally found paradise.
Smiling with a mixture of exhaustion and genuine happiness, he admired the wet curves of her body under the golden light of dusk. Before resting her face on his back, Izzy placed her large hand on his chest, feeling their accelerated
heartbeats mingle as they tried to catch their breath. He had no words to describe the most intense and pleasurable experience of his entire life.
As soon as he slid out of you, keeping his arm firmly around your waist to support your body, still limp from the post-orgasm state, Izzy gently turned you to face him. You let out a silly laugh, your body completely relaxed. You sought support by intertwining your arms around his broad shoulders, gazing into that expressive face with eyes overflowing with surrender.
You two exchanged deep glances for a long time, without haste, simply enjoying each other's closeness in an environment now heavy with the scent of skin, sun, and the chlorine of the pool. There was an immeasurable feeling of peace in being side by side, in having bared not only their bodies but also their souls through that sincere declaration about the future. They had finally found someone they could count on.
He raised his calloused hand to her cheek, caressing her skin with a sweetness that contrasted completely with the wildness of minutes before. Izzy smiled slightly, from ear to ear, overflowing with a happiness she hadn't experienced in years. With a bright, invigorated gleam in her eyes, he observed her once neatly styled hair, now completely disheveled and damp, and the light aura of post-sex illuminating her face, making her even more irresistible in his eyes.
— That was, by far, the best way to christen my new pool,— he murmured close to her lips, his hoarse voice laden with deep affection.
Her restrained, happy laugh against his chest was all the musician needed to end that moment perfectly, with the certainty that their future together had already begun.
