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“I need you to say the words, baby,” he says, gently.
“Yes! Yes, a thousand times, yes. I’ll marry you.”
We sit like that for a while, with him on his knees and my limbs wrapped around him like tentacles. Kissing, and laughing, and sliding on the ring. Celebrating it more than the gold medal, even.
“Fuck yes,” he breathes. “Getting you pregnant is next on the list,” he adds, eyes gleaming with obsession.
“Not yet,” I whisper, shaking my head slightly. “I’m too young.”
“I don’t know if I can wait,” he purrs, one hand gripping my ass and the other rubbing my stomach possessively. “I want to cum inside you and make a baby. I want to watch as this belly grows with my child. I want it all.”
I cup his face in my hands and kiss him, delirious as I am with love. “Okay, baby, but one thing at a time.”
I kiss him to distract him. There won’t be any babies for now, I have other goals I want to achieve first.
Eventually, he pushes my hair back and cups my face, eyes searching mine.
“Are you truly happy?” he asks, echoing the question I asked him almost a year ago in that hotel room.
And unlike then, the answer is so obvious.
So different.
So much easier.
“Yes.”
He places a soft kiss on my lips and pulls back.
“Good, because I am too. Finally.”
The End
Epilogue
Nera
Six Years Later.
“Hey, babe,” I call out to Tristan as I hear him climb up the stairs of our London townhouse to the third floor. “I left something for you on the bed.”
“A surprise?” he answers, from a distance.
“Something you’ve been wanting,” I add, smiling and looking back down at my book as I wait for him to discover it.
“You really are the best wife there is,” he praises, his voice thick with desire. “I think I’m going to have to marry you again.”
After Tristan proposed to me at the Olympics, I managed to convince him to wait a year to get married so we could plan a proper wedding. He’d grudgingly agreed, although he’d tried to change my mind almost every day after that.
We traveled the world for a few months like we’d discussed and we made it to the US, he included a layover in Vegas and a pitstop in front of a twenty-four-hour chapel specifically. It’d been hard to resist the lure of getting married right then and there, especially when Tristan was eagerly pulling my hand towards the entrance, but I had.
I’d made it up to him by letting him chase me again, this time through a natural park, and then fucking me brutally.
We’d gotten married in the south of France with all of our friends and some of our family there. My mum and I had made significant progress by then so she was in the first row, crying into her handkerchief as she watched me marry the love of my life.
Jude gave me away, whispering jokes the entire walk down the aisle.
“Fucking your teacher and then marrying him. I didn’t know you had it in you, sis,” he said, and I’d had to keep it together so I didn’t burst out laughing.
