Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 122: I love you [M]

Chapter 122: I love you [M]

We’re finally sane now. Hungry and sane, I think to myself as we devour the baked potatoes and rice that Noelle had cooked. It feels like it’s been forever since we’ve done something so... normal. Just eating together, without the haze of desperation, without the frantic need that had consumed us for the last three days.

Three days of knotting and coming, over and over again, until I thought I might actually lose my mind. I glance down at my member, sore, beaten, and limp. Gods, I don’t think I can come anymore. No, I know I can’t. It’s overworked, and frankly, so am I.

We’re sitting on the floor of the living area, in front of the fireplace. The flickering light casts a soft glow over Noelle’s bare skin, highlighting the curve of his collarbone, the smooth lines of his chest. We look ridiculous—two grown men, naked, eating awkwardly from mismatched plates, our bodies bruised and marked from days of unrelenting passion. But somehow, it feels perfect. Like this is where we’re supposed to be.

Eventually, we finish the food, and I lean back, drinking a glass of water, the coolness soothing my parched throat. "I thought I would die," I say with a small laugh, the exhaustion and humor mixing together.

Noelle looks at me, that soft, easy smile spreading across his face, and it nearly takes my breath away. He’s beautiful—so beautiful, even now, especially now. "I think I actually did die," he replies, his tone light, but there’s something deeper in his eyes—a quiet satisfaction, maybe, or just the peace of being here, together.

I look at him—really look at him—and I can’t help but admire how perfect he looks, even now, wearing nothing but the collar I’d placed around his neck. My collar. The sight of it, the way it sits snug against his skin, sends a rush of warmth through me. Mine.

"Don’t look at me like that," he murmurs, his voice soft but teasing as he lies down on the wooden floor, stretching out next to the fireplace. The flames crackle softly behind him, casting long shadows across the room, but the floor isn’t cold. Not with the fire’s warmth, not with him here.

I shove the plates aside, not caring where they land, and lie down next to him, my body instinctively drawn to his. In my line of sight is the old ceiling board, worn and stained from years of use. But I can’t focus on it. Not when he’s next to me, his warmth pulling me in, his presence grounding me in a way nothing else ever has.

And then, in the soft quiet of the room, he says it. "I love you."

I blink, the words hitting me like a soft breeze, unexpected yet so very welcome. I turn onto my side, leaning on my elbow to look down at him, my heart thudding in my chest. "Where’s that coming from?" I ask, not because I doubt him—I never could—but because I want to hear more, to understand what he’s feeling.

He smiles at me, and it’s like the world lights up around him. That smile could blind me, and I’d still want to see it every day of my life. "Can I not say I love my husband?" he teases, his voice gentle, affectionate.

Husband. The word rolls off his tongue like honey, and it strikes something deep inside me. Husband. I never thought I’d hear anyone call me that—certainly not with so much love, so much certainty.

"I love you," I reply, and I mean it with everything in me. The words feel too small for what I’m feeling, but they’re all I have. So, I lean down and place the lightest of kisses on his face, starting with his forehead, his eyes, then his nose. Each touch is soft, like the flutter of butterfly wings, delicate and careful, as if I’m afraid he might disappear if I’m too rough. But he doesn’t. He’s here, beneath me, smiling up at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.

I kiss his lips, softly at first, then again and again, each kiss lingering a little longer than the last. My hands slide over his skin, tracing the familiar planes of his body, the places I’ve come to know so well. He responds to me in kind, his hands moving to rest on my shoulders, his fingers curling slightly as if to pull me closer. And I do move closer, until I’m practically on top of him, my body hovering over his.

It’s then that I realize something—against all odds, despite everything I thought, I’m getting hard again. I didn’t think it was possible, not after the past three days, but with him, everything is possible.

I slide my knee between his legs, gently urging them apart, and he opens up for me, like he always does. His eyes never leave mine, and there’s something in that gaze—trust, love, need—that undoes me completely.

I position myself at his entrance, moving slowly, deliberately, because this isn’t about lust, not this time. This is something else—something deeper, something softer. I push in, inch by inch, and the sensation is overwhelming. I’m so sensitive, every nerve in my body alight with sensation, and I can tell he’s feeling the same. His breath hitches, his body tensing beneath me, and I know it’s a mix of pleasure and the same raw sensitivity I’m experiencing.

I lean down and kiss him again, my lips brushing over his, trying to distract him from the intensity of it all. His arms wrap around my neck, pulling me closer, and I start to move—slow, deep thrusts, each one measured, careful. I’m not rushing this. I want to savor every second, every little gasp he makes, every soft moan that escapes his lips.

Unlike the desperate, frantic desperation from before, this is calm. This is comforting. This is love in its purest form.

"I love you," I whisper again, my voice rough with emotion, as I continue to thrust into him, slow and steady. His body moves with mine, perfectly in sync, and the connection between us is almost palpable. It’s not just physical—it’s something more. Something deeper. Something that binds us together, soul to soul.

He reaches up and cups my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over my skin. "I love you too, Thorne," he whispers back, his voice trembling with the same emotion I feel.

I press my forehead to his, our breaths mingling in the small space between us. "You’re everything to me," I murmur, my movements never faltering, each thrust deep and slow. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

He smiles, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, and it breaks something in me. "You’ll never have to find out," he replies, his voice soft but sure.

I kiss him again, harder this time, pouring everything I have into it—my love, my gratitude, my devotion. And as we move together, as our bodies find their rhythm, I realize something.

This is home. No matter where we are, no matter what happens, as long as I have Noelle, I’ll always have a home.

And that thought—that feeling—is enough to bring me to the edge, my body trembling with the force of my release. Noelle follows soon after, his body tightening around mine as he cries out my name, his voice a melody I’ll never tire of hearing.

We collapse together, our bodies spent, but our hearts full. I lie beside him, holding him close, my hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.

"I love you," I whisper one last time, my voice barely audible, but I know he’s heard me.