Work Text:
“Angel, please…”
Perpetua’s voice sounded from below you, drawing your focus out of your book from the sudden disruption. You peered over the pages, satisfied to see his hands still tied snugly behind his back.
You could see the way they strained beneath the knot formed by his ebony cravat, his knuckles white and veins prominent beneath his pale skin.
Perpetua sobbed and dropped his forehead against your knee as he struggled to fight the frustrated tears that threatened to flow. You could feel the solid silver of his mask pressing into you, contrasted by his hot breath just below and his hips rutting against your leg even lower.
You frowned down at your husband, watching his shoulders tremble as he softly whimpered.
In all honesty, you felt a little cruel for doing this to him. He didn’t deserve it—he never did. But when his head finally leveled, painted lips parted and multicolored eyes shimmering with a need like no other, you remembered exactly why you’d done it.
Perpetua looked infinitely better on his knees. He was ethereal, the image of perfection, even in his suffering, like Jesus himself. All it took was one look at him for you to consider ditching the novel in your hands entirely to hold him instead.
Oh, how precious that longing gaze would look cupped between your hands. His form gleamed in the golden light of the evening sun pouring in through the windows, and you wondered how warm his skin would be against your own. Your heart skipped a beat as you imagined it, and it took everything you had to keep your hands to yourself.
Evidently, Perpetua found your self-restraint disappointing.
“Angel…” Once more, that lovely nickname was whispered, your husband’s tone breathless and dripping with adoration. “Will you touch me?”
The question was almost reverent, void of any patience, yet both of you knew he would kneel there for however long you asked just to stay with you. And you didn’t even have to think it over to know you would do the same for him.
Which is why you set your book aside and reached out, brushing the loose curls that had fallen over his mask back with gentle fingers. The noise Perpetua let out was wonderful, and he didn’t hesitate to nuzzle into your touch. He pressed a kiss to your palm, inhaling a deep breath of your scent as his eyes fluttered closed. You could see his body visibly relax, like your presence alone comforted him to the bone. He sighed peacefully, a tear ultimately sliding down his cheek as he mumbled,
“I love you.”
You took his face tenderly into your hands, your thumbs tracing his cheekbones with soothing strokes. The action left trails of smeared paint behind. Most would’ve called it a flaw, but you couldn’t have cared less. Perpetua looked perfect. Perpetua was perfect. No blemish, however large, would ever hold the power to change your mind.
You leaned forward, guiding his head down to rest against your thigh. You cradled him in your arms, listening to his quiet sobs of exasperation and relief and love and the million things you both were feeling in this moment. His hips never stopped moving in a frantic attempt to harness the pleasure he’d been chasing for hours.
You placed a kiss on the crown of his head, shuddering when Perpetua’s shaky moan vibrated against your core. You bit your lip, lifting his slack head to face you once again. He was panting harshly now, eyes glossed over with unadulterated desire and admiration. You traced a finger over his bottom lip, fondly requesting,
“Tell me you need me.”
It was undoubtedly a frivolous demand, but you couldn’t help yourself. Not when you had him like this. You needed to hear the phrase leave his lips. You were desperate to hear that he needed you just as much as you needed him. Perpetua heaved, eyes rolling back as an intense bout of lust washed over him.
“ Ah— Fuck, I need you.”
“Again.”
Perpetua whined, his hips stuttering momentarily before picking up again at a rhythm that confirmed his yearning far better than his words did. He groaned deep in his chest, fingers flexing and clenching beneath the restraint.
“Angel, I need you.” His voice quavered, and you were helplessly mesmerized by the exposed column of his throat as his head fell back. “I need you like the stars need the moon, like flora needs rainfall. Without you, I would fade; I would wither. I cannot imagine a life where you are not present. You make me complete, mio bellissimo angelo. You are my everything. Ti amo. I love you. ”
And with those words, you felt Perpetua’s hips falter for the final time, his body jolting forward as his orgasm tore through his pent-up frame. You were there to help him come down, murmuring a slew of reassurance while your hands caressed his hair. He opened his mouth to slur something against your thigh, though it was slightly muffled and near unintelligible. You didn’t bother to decipher it or have him repeat himself.
Your mind was too focused on the feeling of your precious husband against you, and, drunk on the love you shared, you found yourself uttering four more important words into the tranquil silence,
“I love you, Perpetua.”