"I could drown myself in someone like you. I could dive so deep I never come out. I thought it was impossible, but you make it possible."
~ Nothing But Thieves, Impossible
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Sophie let out an exasperated breath, embarrassed by what her parents got them into.
It was a couple days later and they were immediately off to their "honeymoon." It was way up north, in the freezing cold snow. Their hotel room was the cheesiest romantic looking place to ever exist. A trail of rose petals led from the entrance, all the way to the heart shaped king sized bed, draped in red silky sheets.
Sat in front of a floor to ceiling window revealing snow slowly falling from the sky, piling onto the ground below, was a jacuzzi. Candles were already lit, around and along the edge of the tub. Beside it was a cart with two wine glasses, an unopened bottle of wine, and chocolate covered strawberries.
It was as if Cupid threw up everywhere.
Oh, and the other thing? They were supposed to get an ungodly amount of snow in the night, so they'd most likely be stuck inside for their whole trip.
With a sigh, she snatched the tray of chocolate covered strawberries off the table and shuffled to the bed. She crisscrossed her legs and leant against the headboard, her eyes locking with Cillian's across the room. Uneasy, he stood there, unsure what to do with himself.
She rolled her eyes and padded the spot in bed next to her. "We shared a bed the past few days, come here. I don't bite."
But he does, she thought, the mark left on her neck tingling.
She shook the thought away and offered him a strawberry as he sat on the mattress next to her. His nose scrunched as he took it from her hands, closely inspecting it.
"You're supposed to eat it." She teased, biting into one. He shot her a look, making her laugh. "It's just a strawberry covered in chocolate."
Well, he did like chocolate... After a sniff, he took a small, cautious bite. He chewed an unnecessary amount of time as if he were some chef judge, critiquing the fruit.
She watched as he chewed, and chewed, and chewed, and finally swallowed. "Well?"
He shrugged. "Eh."
"All those dramatics for an eh?" She affectionately rolled her eyes. "Fine, more for me, but you're going to be stuck with people food for a few more days until we get back home."
"What's that?" He changed the subject and pointed to the jacuzzi.
"A jacuzzi. A fancy bathtub, basically." She explained with a chuckle. "Kinda a hot tub, kinda a bath."
He wasn't too familiar with baths, only showers. There was a tub at Sophie's mom's house and she explained it to him there. She even told him he could try it if he wanted, but he was still quite uneasy with water.
Unfortunately for him, Sophie realized this and decided to change that. "Wanna get in with me?" She wondered.
His eyes widened, taken back, but also slightly excited by the bold question.
"Clothed." She clarified, looking anywhere but him when she realized how it sounded. "We don't have bathing suits, but we can improvise."
She crawled out of bed and started running the water. She effortlessly threw her hair into a messy bun, not really caring how it looked, before making her way to the bathroom. When she came out, she was dressed in a sports bra and spandex shorts, making Cillian's breath hitch in his throat.
She felt his gaze before she saw it, his eyes shamelessly flickering all over her. "What?" She wondered, sarcasm lacing her words. "Are you going to just sit there and stare?"
"Yes." Was his immediate, dazed answer.
She wasn't expecting that. "Well... stop. It's-"
"You're very pretty, Sophie."
"Oh," she squeaked, blinking a couple times. "Thank you." She awkwardly cleared her throat and scurried to the tub, just a quarter of the way full. It was too shallow to start the jets but she got in anyway to hide from his bold gaze.
"You coming?" She called, resting her head on her folded arms on the side of the tub.
Breathless, he mentally captured a picture of her to keep forever in his head. She's beautiful, but in more ways than just outwardly. She was beautiful for the way she thought. She was beautiful for the tenderness in her eyes when she was concerned for him. She was beautiful for her love for other people. She was beautiful in the way that she carried herself. She wasn't just beautiful for her looks, she was beautiful deep in her soul.
She seemed so carefree right now, no makeup, messy hair, vulnerable in her clothing. He swallowed hard, realizing he now had to be vulnerable. From what he's seen and learned on social media, magazines, on billboards, and television, it was easy for most men he's seen to be shirtless. While his muscular figure might be considered "ripped," so was his skin. It had been marred, scarred, ripped, and then some. He used to have nice skin. Smooth, tan, not a single blemish or mole. Things were different now.
He thought back to the time when she first saw him shirtless and the gasp that left her lips. Was she repulsed? No. She hurt for him, but his brain made him believe otherwise.
There wasn't many parts of him that didn't have some sort of injury or scar. His torso, his legs, his fingers, none of it was spared. His face was abused the least, though it had been bruised previously, with the occasional split lip or eyebrow.
"Are you alright?" Her gentle voice called out, snapping him out of his thoughts.
He sent her a smile that really looked more like a grimace and made his way over to the tub. Not taking off a single article of clothing, he lifted his leg to swing it into the tub, but was quickly stopped.
"Wait, you have to take your clothes off!" She laughed, thinking he just didn't understand. "Well, not all of them, but down to your boxers or something."
He wavered, his foot back down on the ground, a solemn look on his face.
She frowned, instinctively reaching out to take his hand in hers. "Hey, what's wrong?"
"Do they repulse you?"
She shriveled back. "Does what repulse me?"
His gaze fell. "The scars... me."
Her expression softened, her eyebrows knitted together in concern. The water sloshed around the tub as she stood, reaching out to cup his face, staring directly into his eyes so he knew exactly how she felt. "Cillian, you or your scars could never repulse me. You got those scars for fighting for our country and- and going through some horrific abuse I wish I could save you from... I'm still praying that there will be a way to save you from that ever again. I promise you, they don't bother me."
She reacted the way she did when they first showered together because she cared. She felt for him, despite being scared of him at the time.
Brushing her thumb over the line of his jaw, feeling the scruff rasping against it, she said, "you could never repulse me, I... I care about you."
He let himself melt into her touch, her fingers wet but warm from soaking in the tub. "I care about you." He replied back, even though she already figured that. The mate pull and all.
However, his next sentence completely caught her off guard.
"You're so beautiful."
She blushed. He smiled.
It was the kind of smile that transformed him into someone else entirely, maybe into who he was supposed to be before got those scars on his body and brain. It was the kind of smile that lit up his eyes and put a dazzle on his lips and she realized she's never seen him like this before.
"You're very sweet, you know that?" She wondered.
A breathy laugh escaped past his lips. "You're the only one that thinks that."
As she turned to sit back in the tub, she tossed a sassy look over her shoulder. "I'm the only one that matters."
That she is.
"C'mon, get in." She patted the water as if it were a spot on a couch to sit on.
He sucked in a sharp breath and took off his shirt, followed by his pants, all while making no eye contact. He dipped his foot in, followed by the rest of his leg, then the other. The tub was nearly full at this point as he slowly sunk into the hot water.
He relaxed against the seat, his muscles instantly relaxing, the tension ceasing. Finally, he looked up to find her already looking at him with a look in her eyes he couldn't figure out.
"Y'know, it's probably a good thing you don't know how good looking you are." She blurted before she could stop herself. "I'd have to fight off many women... being your wife and all."
He felt as if there were air quotes around wife, but he didn't mind for now. The corner of his lips quirked up. "It's a good thing I know how strong I am so I can fight all the men away from you... you being all pretty and all."
She placed a hand on her chest. "Are you flirting with me?"
"You started it." He retaliated.
She chuckled, her fingers on a button. "Can I turn the jets on?"
"Jets?"
All at once, they hit his back, some down by his feet. He flinched at first, but slowly eased into it, enjoying the pressure of the water working on his tight muscles. She poured an ungodly amount of soap into the water, the tub instantly filling with bubbles.
She cupped some in her hand, closing the distance between them to stick them to his cheeks. "Nice beard, Santa Claus." She joked, patting his soapy cheeks.
He mimicked her actions, gently sticking some to her face as well. "Nice beard, Mrs. Claus."
She rose a brow. "Pretty sure she doesn't have a beard."
"Pretty sure if I'm Santa Claus, that makes you Mrs. Claus by default."
"Touché." She chuckled, the both of them like children playing with the bubbles.
She ended up wiping her own bubble beard away, along with his. Her fingers trailed from his face, down to his chest. The scars caused many ridges and bumps to cover his body, but she didn't mind in the slightest.
Growing more serious, she told him in a soft tone of voice, "I mean it, you know. You're a beautiful person inside and out."
She didn't know what came over her, but she found herself leaning against his side, a hand on his chest. His hands settled on her waist, his fingers on the bare skin, his lips hovering above hers. He tugged her closer until she was nearly in his lap, her body pressed against his firm one. She leaned into the sensations, his fingers grazing her stomach, the small of her back. He wouldn't be the first one to lean in, she was sure of it. He was man of his word and he meant it when he said, "whatever you're willing."
His forehead rested against hers and she was willing. Her fingers tangled into the ends of his wet hair, her arms over his broad shoulders, her legs now straddling his lap. She leaned in, connecting her lips to his.
That was all he needed to kiss her deeply, to kiss her until her until time topples over and her head spun into the oblivion. Every part of him wanted to wrap around her, wanted to make this a special kiss, not knowing if this would be the only chance he'd have to do so. He wanted to make every touch one she craved, one she would willingly lean into, and in turn, touch him with just the same amount of tender and love. Her hands were still in his hair, pulling him closer, pulling a groan from him.
As they pulled apart, he lingered, savoring every moment. Panting with his heart pounding out of his chest, he looked into her eyes. She gazed back, lips parted in shock, as if she were surprised by both of their actions.
Her hands retracted from his hair, his heart sinking along with them. "Sorry, I don't- I shouldn't have..." she trailed off. Should she have?
His gaze dropped, his hands leaving her waist.
He was ready to get out, but gentle hands stopped him. Placing her hands over his to settle them back on her waist, she spoke. "I didn't mean it like that, I just..." she sighed, her head still spinning. "Sorry, I'm processing."
He nodded, giving her hips a soft squeeze in encouragement.
Her forehead rested against his again, her hands resting on his marred chest. "I didn't want this." She whispered.
He swallowed hard, his stomach twisted in tense knots. "I know."
"But now..."
His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he thought, his hands sliding up her back instead. "Whatever you're willing, Sophie." He quietly reminded her, his voice low. "I would never touch you unless you wanted me to, no matter how much I want to. I won't ask either. You can tell me when you're ready, if you ever are..." His eyes roamed her face, admiring every piece of it. "But I can't help looking at you. You are so beautiful."
She smiled, her fingers tracing patterns on his skin. "You were right, the other day. I'm scared." Her eyes searched his before she quietly admitted, "I'm scared of getting too attached to you just to lose you."
"Am I close?" He wondered.
With a sad but thoughtful expression, she brushed his hair back and replied, "Too."
"We would never get a normal life." She continued in a whisper. "We don't even know what's coming out when April comes around... could we get away? Together?"
His head perked. "Together?"
She nodded, anxiously biting her lip. "Start a new secret life somewhere."
A life together. His heart soared.
Her posture deflated. "Except for my family. I don't know if he's bluffing or-"
"He's not." Cillian interrupted, sadly. "Hoppers never bluffs."
She nodded in understanding, her hands cupping his jaw. "I don't want anything to happen to you."
He leaned into her touch, putty in her hands. "As long as you're with me, I'll be okay."
One had dropped to trace the scars along his collarbones and she shook her head. "Not if it means you get more of these."
A gentle hand stopped her, bringing her hand to his lips. "We'll figure it out. One day at a time. Whatever you're willing."
Her eyes flickered across his face, silently admiring him. "Kiss me, Cillian."
He happily obeyed.
They enjoyed this moment and surely the many more to come. If only they knew what life really had planned for them.
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Question of the chapter: anything else you can think of that Cillian and Sophie should do on their honeymoon? Keep it PG pls ð
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