CERTAINTY

Is it only me, or does it imply the same to him as well? Well, that I don't know. What I am so certain about is that he also relishes this moment as much I do. He values this as much as I do. He is lost in this as much as I am. This moment, and the others that we have had, are as important and memorable to him as it are to me.


And those are enough reasons to make me bask in the warmth of his embrace and this moment wholly, surrendering my all—body, soul, heart, and mind. All unto him, I surrender. A pang of waves of possessiveness washes over me, like it always does in moments like this, filling me with a heady sense of euphoria. It is a primal instinct, a fierce longing to claim him as my own, to hold onto this moment for eternity. To have him for eternity.

I affirm that it has been impossible for me not to believe that these kisses mean something more. They are not just mere gestures, but declarations of a love that transcends time and space. In his arms, I feel whole and complete, as if I have finally found the missing piece of my soul. The piece that my soul has been longing for all my life. And now that I have found it, this all feels like coming home. He is my home. He is my heart. He is my better half. He is my sanity. He is both my strength and my weakness. He is my all. Damian is my all! If there is anything else beyond this out there, I don't want to know it.

And finally, he was away after an eternity of pure bliss, the lingering taste of his lips still dancing on mine, a bittersweet ache settling in my chest. It is an inexplicable blend of contentment and longing, as if I simultaneously want to hold onto the moment forever and yet crave more, hungry for the next brush of his lips against yours.


His touch lingers on my rosy cheeks, his fingers tracing gentle patterns against my sensitive skin, and I can't help but lean into his touch, craving the warmth and reassurance it brings. And then he aligns our eyes. Our eyes rock, as if a thousand unspoken words pass between us, a silent conversation that transcends language.

His gaze is deep, dark, and filled with a myriad of emotions swirling beneath the surface. I could call this love the one in his eyes—raw and untamed, burning bright like a flame in the darkness. There is longing—a yearning so intense it threatens to consume me whole. And there is a hint of vulnerability—a flicker of uncertainty that only serves to make him all the more endearing. My beast! My sweat, Damian. How I wish he can verbally communicate what he is showing in his beautiful, bottomless eyes.


For a moment, time ceases to exist as our eyes hold a dialogue. And as I drink in the sight of him, memorizing every curve of his face and every fleck of gold in his eyes, I just realize one thing: that no words could ever do justice to the depth of what I feel for him. That much I know, and that what he is holding within his cold walls is deep, and I am in love. No, it is all for me! This is all for Ellie!

I emit a small grin as I gaze deeper into his eyes after what I just realized. Looking at him, I see nothing but a reflection of everything that I have ever wanted. Everything I have ever needed—love, peace, adoration, satisfaction, care, and desire—is just how I would have wanted to be desired. With him, I am home; I have all that I need and beyond. What else can I ask for?

'What is it?" He finally says, his breath hot and his voice deep.

I am too held in the moment to even wiggle my head. 'Nothing," I respond faintly.

He blinks, breaking the eye dialogue, running his thumb on my lips. 'You know you are important to me, right?" he whispers, his eyes dancing in mine.

I manage to nod. I know I am. Even if he doesn't say it, I know I am more than important. 'I know. And you are important to me as well. Very important," I say, and he leans in to kiss me again. I think this is the only way he knows how to explain his emotions. How to communicate.

"How about we test your cooking lessons, huh?" He asks after we pull away, brushing my lower lips with his thumb once again, and for the first time, he tends to avert my gaze.

He is feeling something deep that he is explaining. But I will not push it. I will be here, waiting for that moment when he will figure it all out. "I like that. What do you want me to cook for you?" I ask, pulling him to the kitchen.

We haven't done this for a long time. Actually, for the past two months, we haven't seen each other much. I miss the aroma already and the crazy stuff we do together in this kitchen. That is us. Crazy and wild.

"What do you want to cook?" He queries us as we enter the kitchen.

"Something new. Maybe chicken curry and seasoned rice?" I ask, kissing his lips gently.

I tasted it two months ago with him, and it has become one of my favourites. I know his fridge is always stocked.

He smiles. "Okay. Let's leave this for later and get to work, then." He says this, pulling away and sauntering to the fridge.

"Huu! It has been a long time. I hope I can remember everything," I mumble as I pull down the apron.

"There is no room for mistakes, baby. Unless you want me to spank your round, tight ass," He licks my earlobe from behind, positioning a packet of chicken wings on the table.

No doubt the cooking will be spicy, especially if this is the first ingredient—him being this touchy and naughty. I leave him to do whatever he is doing behind me, and I start peeling the onions with a mega blush on my face.