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Ethan couldn’t trace back to what had finally broke you, but if he had to guess, maybe he didn’t try hard enough.
He had run through the details of the past few months over and over in his mind. The memories unfolding and flashing like bright lights in his head leave him with no answers and a heavy heart.
He thought everything had been going great for both of you. Knowing you, holding you, and calling you his for the past year had been the happiest he had felt in a while. But gathering the last of your things from the bathroom, packing up the old t-shirt you’d left in his bedroom, and picking up the last earring set from his nightstand, this is the lowest he’s felt in months.
He feels the weight of it all once he sits down on the big, brown couch in the living room. The fire has calmed down since the roar of flames it once was when he started it an hour ago. The crackling is the only sound echoing through the whole cabin, and he decides it’s too quiet.
He can hear the memories now, like his brain has finally hit unmute. Your laughter echoing alongside his feels so vivid, like you’re actually here, and as he closes his eyes he begins to see it.
It’s the last hike you two went on, just two weeks back. The wind blows through your hair, pulling a few strands into your face. He remembers the way your nose scrunched up from the feeling and the small giggle that escaped your lips. Your skin felt so smooth on his fingertips when he brushed the lock of hair away. His palm cupped your cheek and his fingers reached the back of your neck, holding you there and giving you his own genuine smile. But his head interrupts the memory when his lips press to yours, only one question on his mind.
Was she hurt then?
There isn’t much time to dwell on the answer because there’s a soft knock at the door. Tired and confused, Ethan stands and makes his way to the wooden front door. And he swears his heart gives a murmur in his chest when he sees you on the other side.
You’re wrapped in his jacket, a bit too big on you and he can’t help the optimism that has him swallowing hard. He looks back to your face, waiting for you to speak, hoping you’ve reconsidered.
“I just came to get the rest of my things,” you speak softly, and just like that his chest feels heavy again. He mumbles something so quiet you can’t quite register it and then he steps aside, holding the door open for you.
Being in the cabin again feels so comfortable with all the lights out and the dim fire. It’s warm too, so you shrug off his jacket and place it on the arm of the couch. As you stare at the room, stare down the hallway to his bedroom, all the memories of the nights spent here start crashing down and a small smile carves its way on your lips.
“They uh…” Ethan stops, a short sniffle before taking a step towards you, “They’re packed up, your things, just around the corner there,” he finishes, his eyes not quite meeting yours. His voice sounds so small, but not harsh, and you can tell how he’s feeling just by the tone alone.
“Thank you,” you respond before turning around and facing the fire. You remember the nights of sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace, relaxing in his lap while he finished reading the last chapter of his current book. Those days seemed simpler, happier, they’re before .
There’s a thick pause in the room while you reminisce and Ethan isn’t sure what to say. His hand comes to the back of his neck, awkwardly scratching in his usual nervous habit. Once the weight of the tension hits you and the cabin’s air feels too thin to catch a full breath, you turn and face him again.
He stands with his head hung low, but raises his face to you once you speak his name. He lets out a soft hum of acknowledgement, waiting for you to continue. But no words leave your lips and he’s left in the deafening silence once again.
“What are you doing?” his voice is exasperated as he brings his hand down from his neck. There’s a soft echo of his palm as it falls and meets his leg. “Did you come to… to change your mind?”
You shake your head, silently giving your answer, and see his face fall once more. Your chest feels tight and you hate seeing him like this. His eyes are red around the edges and he’s glancing around the room nervously. He’s never staring at one thing for too long, never quite looking at you directly.
Crossing the distance between you two, you stand in front of him and place your arms over his chest. His heartbeat grows faster under your right palm and you can feel his body heat warming you. You stare at your hand over his heart and focus on the feeling. It’s hard to deny how right this feels, but you know that you’d be grasping at a flame that’s dying out.
You look up to him and see him already staring at you. There’s no emotion on his face; it’s as if he’s not sure how to feel, or too scared to get his hopes up. It’s this same sadness as when he heard your decision the first time. The memory flashes in your mind and it feels like someone is compressing your chest. The feeling so fresh in your head as you remember the way you had to leave the cabin because you couldn’t stand the heartbreak on his face.
But you don’t want to focus on that, on the pain. Not tonight, anyway. You want to be with him just one last time. A final goodbye for the both of you.
You watch his expression slowly grow more confused as your fingers interlock behind his neck. His curls brush your fingertips and you give a small smile at the feeling. Ethan looks as if he’s going to speak up, and you wait for him while leaning in, but he doesn’t find the words before your lips are on his.
And just like that your body falls into those old patterns. His mouth on yours feels normal, just the way it should be. His lips are soft and warm, the small bit of stubble decorating his jaw scratching your skin gently. All it does is make you crave more, your fingers moving to tighten on his neck and hold him closer.
It’s when your tongue pushes past your lips that he snaps back into it. The second he feels the wet warmth on his bottom lip he’s remembering why you’re here, that this isn’t to reconcile, and that very thought crushes him.
He feels tightness throughout his body, as if someone is grabbing hold of his heart with a merciless grip. He stops kissing you back, and then he’s stepping away from you altogether.
“Baby…” he trails off, eyes squeezed tightly shut. You stare at him, watch as he licks his lips before opening his eyes and breathes out a heavy sigh. He bites the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicker back and forth, scanning every part of your face and unable to settle.
“Do you want to do this?” you ask him seriously. Your hands slowly fall down his chest as you begin to pull away. “We don’t have to if–if it’s too hard,” you stutter as you try and explain. “I just… I wanted to have one last–”
Ethan cuts you off with his big hand cupping your jaw. In one swift movement, he’s titling your head to the side and kissing you even harder than before. A surprised but satisfied moan leaves your mouth and he replies with a deeper one against your lips. He only pulls away to change the direction of his head before he’s pushing himself to you again and you can feel his hot breath against your face. Trying to keep up, you place your hands tighter on his shoulders and work your way backwards to the couch.
You feel his lips trail lower down to your chin, biting at your jaw softly. The gasp that falls past your mouth is breathy and quiet, but you know he hears it by the way he continues down to your neck. His teeth grazing across your collarbone is starting to make your chest grow hot, and you can’t stop your hands from reaching down to his sweats.
Once you feel out for his length over the fabric, you tighten your hold on him and feel his body curve away from you. His teeth bite into your skin now, a throaty groan pulled from him as he relaxes back into your touch.
“Christ,” he groans when he pulls away from you again. His gaze is on your lips, your eyes, and back to your lips once more. It’s almost like he’s second guessing himself again, but his body wins over his mind and he’s pushing his hips towards your touch.
You continue to rub against his cock, pushing harder to make sure he feels you over the material. He continues to watch as your smaller hands work him over and he breathes deeper when he feels himself growing harder, filling your palm slowly.
His own hands go to your stomach, grabbing the hem of your shirt before tugging it up off of your body. He tosses it to the floor as he grabs the back of your neck, bringing you into another kiss. But this one is slower, his lips drawing out their movements and you know that he’s dragging this out on purpose.
As if you couldn’t feel any more guilty about this.
You can’t decide whether to listen to the warmth leading between your thighs or to your brain, the latter of which telling you that all you’re doing is hurting him. But you know you’ll both need this, hell, you’ll even call it closure if it’ll make your brain shut up.
Finally having made up your mind, your hands curl around the waistband of his sweats and push them down, exposing his boxer briefs as the fabric falls to a pile on the floor. He leaves your mouth as he feels the air hit his bare thighs, watching as you start grabbing him tighter over the newly exposed green material.
He copies your movements, pushing your leggings down and slowly falling to his knees to help them down your shins. Your breaths hitches for a moment when he looks up at you, his eyes flickering in the dim firelight, exposing that sliver of pain in their depth.
When you stay silent he grabs the back of your thigh, lifting it to pull the leggings completely off of your ankle, pressing his lips to your skin while he does it. He does the same with the opposite leg, kissing once more just a few inches south of where you’re most sensitive. His thumb brushes against you back and forth when he feels the goosebumps decorating your skin.
And there he goes again, being so perfect you nearly forget why you called this off.
You decide to act quickly once you feel his hot breath brush over your panties, ordering him quietly with a silent nod towards the couch. He stands up slowly and follows your instruction, stepping over until the back of his thighs meet the couch cushion. Without any hesitation, you press against his chest harder until he’s falling onto the seat. He quickly adjusts himself to sit against the back of the armrest and his eyes are on yours when you straddle him.
You grind your hips into the hard bulge in his boxers, wanting to do this for the last time. You remember when you did this late one night in his patrol car after his shift. You smile faintly at the memory of him ruining his uniform trousers, cursing out while he held you tightly.
It’s when his hips buck into you that you’re removed from your thoughts, and you look down to see his eyebrows pulled together, lips parted and holding back his moans. You want to stop time and just save this image in your mind, but he feels your grinding stop and pleads with you.
“C-C’mon, baby, I need you… please.” And just like that you’re sitting back onto his thighs and taking his boxers down his legs, pulling harder to get it past his ass.
His cock is leaking already, laying against his stomach and desperate for your touch. You notice his swollen, red tip brushing just below his belly button and reach out to press your thumb to that sensitive spot right under his head.
He curses behind his teeth while his cock twitches on its own, moving towards your touch. To give him some relief, you wrap your hand around him and move slowly up and down. You can feel yourself getting even wetter when you feel the veins under your touch, and you let out a pleased hum before letting go only to pull your panties to the side.
Once you’re no longer covered by the fabric, you hold him by his base, lining your hips up before slowly sinking down. Ethan never looks away from your face the entire time. He watches your expression change when you feel him slowly filling you up deeper and deeper until he bottoms out. Your eyes squeeze shut from the stretch of him, your body’s way of trying to adjust to his size. The deep groan doesn’t quite leave his throat when you give a small squeeze around him; it’s rumbly and almost sounds choked.
You open your eyes at the sound and search his face, making sure he’s okay. Ethan doesn’t say anything but pushes his back further into the arm rest, tilting his chin up, a silent way of telling you to continue. He’s got that same expressionless look again, and it’s hard to know if he’s really indifferent or if this is just a facade.
Bringing in a deep breath, you place your hands on his chest to keep yourself balanced. His heart is racing under your palm, and feeling it just encourages you to continue. Your hips slowly rise up, feeling every inch of him until just his tip remains and then you’re dropping back down quickly.
He wasn’t expecting to feel all of you so fast, and you catch the way his lower stomach tenses at your movement. But still you carry on, moving your hips up and down and creating a steady pace.
His fingers find their way to your hips to hold onto you as he tries to decide where to look. Brown eyes stare into yours before moving down to your chest, watching your breasts bounce as you move harder on top of him before they settle between your thighs, watching the way he disappears inside of you.
Ethan thrusts his hips up to meet your ass one time, but the second he does it has you doubling over. His swollen head nudges the spot deep inside you, the one that feels so good it begins to hurt a little. Your nails dig into his broad chest as you pause on top of him, fighting the way your body squeezes around him, and sit back up again once the sensation has passed.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse and thick. You’re quick to nod and hum a response before trying to work back to your previous rhythm. He blinks up at you a few times with his eyebrows pulled together, a look of concern on his face.
“I’m fine, just went deeper than I expected,” you huff while you focus your movements. Ethan whispers out an apology that you try your best not to hear. It’ll only make this more difficult, and it’s hard enough as it is.
He feels himself begin to slip down the couch with your hasty movements. Careful to keep you steady, his hand covers yours that’s pressed over his heart as he sits up against the armrest once more. You can feel the warmth on both sides of your hand, feel yet another attempt at him trying to encage you, keep you close.
You squirm your hand back out of his grasp and the guilt hits you like a train. His eyes look even redder than before, staring up at you with absolute heartbreak on his face. Ethan swallows and you catch the way his throat bobs for a second before he’s exhaling shakily. He’s blinking quickly and trying not to meet your face anymore.
To spare him, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into your chest. It’s easier this way, not having to see his hurt expression as you continue working your hips over him. His palms rest on your thighs, sitting there and not grabbing you tight like before. You push the thought from your mind and focus on the feeling of him inside you.
Your fingers dig deeper into his shoulders, trying to memorize the feeling of his cock deep under your tummy. You bite your lip as you remember that this is the last time you’ll feel it. This is the last time you’ll feel his warmth, last time you’ll feel his kisses on your skin.
Ethan tries to speak up, lifting his head up from your chest and inhaling deeply.
“Baby—” he begins, but he’s cut off as you raise your hips higher and drop harder than before. His own groan jumbles the words in his throat, unable to find his thoughts in his already disheveled brain.
He tries again once he calms down some, but again you don’t let him finish his sentence.
“Sawyer, don’t,” you whisper, just barely audible. But he hears it, you can tell by the way he freezes. He bites his lip and turns his face to the side, scrunching up his nose before whispering an equally as quiet “Okay.”
His big hand moves up your thigh then, fingers reaching for your clit. Your hips jerk forward from where you had stopped moving on his cock, and his big tip moving inside you has you gasping out.
“Fuck,” you whisper quietly as his fingertips push harder against you. Feeling the pleasure both internally and externally has you clenching around him again, letting out a small moan while he continues.
Mustering up all the strength you have, you start working yourself up and down his length again, knowing it won’t take you much longer to finish with the stimulation to your clit. Your movements become a bit sloppy, nearing your orgasm, and Ethan meets you halfway again, pushing up inside of you.
It’s only a few more seconds before your thighs begin to close and your hips stutter faster on top of him. He knows you’re reaching the end and decides to move his fingers quicker over your most sensitive spot. The pressure builds and builds until you’re sinking on him one last time and staying there, falling over the edge.
Your thighs shake slightly as it hits you and you’re letting out breathy moans as his hips continue to thrust up into you, helping you ride out your high. You feel amazing, squeezing him repeatedly as you finish, but his voice isn’t there.
Every other time you fall apart because of him, he’s always there whispering praise into your ear. His encouragement draws out the orgasm, making you feel like you’re floating for those few seconds longer. But this time he stays silent.
It takes Ethan only a few more thrusts before he’s coming inside you. The dull clenching around his cock only drags his orgasm out longer, and he can’t help the long, deep groans from falling past his lips. You feel the extra warmth filling you deeply and focus on his blissed out face. He gives a few more faint twitches before he’s finally finished, his body deflating with each heavy exhale. You give him a few minutes to calm down and soften inside of you, not wanting to overstimulate him.
Then you’re lifting yourself off of his spent cock and moving your panties back into place before climbing off of him. You bend down to get your shirt and pull it over your head, pushing your arms into the holes, but his hand grabs your wrists before you can grab your leggings.
“Can you stay?” he speaks into the quiet room. His voice is rumbly and soft with an undertone of sadness.
“You know I can’t do that.”
His eyes shut and he lets his face fall again, finally letting the realization set in. He’s given up hope now and has come to terms that this is the end.
But leaving him like this crushes you and you don’t think it through before you’re crawling back onto the couch. Saying he was surprised to feel your weight on him again would be an understatement, and his arms immediately wrap around you to keep you tight against his chest.
“Thank you,” he whispers into your hair as he places one last kiss to your forehead. As much as you don’t want to admit it, his smell instantly soothes the aching in your chest and his body heat has you wanting to doze off instantly.
His fingers brush faintly across your ribs and then around to your back, rubbing down to the dip in your spine. His fingers dance across your skin like that for a few minutes longer before he slows down and eventually stops. You wait a little while longer until you hear the soft snores falling past his lips and then carefully move away from him.
His hand falls to his chest and his head tilts to the side, his chin resting on his shoulder. You stare at him for a bit and try to keep this image in your mind. You quickly pull your leggings up and reach for the blanket on the opposite end of the couch. You slowly drag it up his body, wanting to make sure he didn’t freeze tonight with the fire burnt out.
After checking that it’s covering as much of him as it can, you make your way towards the front door, checking behind yourself one last time. His big body is stretched out on the couch, his chest rising and falling steadily. With that last picture of him, you slip past the door and out of his life.
The cabin is still and quiet when Ethan wakes up a few hours later. Sunlight is starting to pour through the gaps in between the curtains hanging over the big windows that overlook the living room. Squinting, he raises a hand to his face and rubs tiredly at his eyes.
And then the memories hit him— your hips on top of his, your fingers in his hair. The sights from his memory squeeze his chest, knowing that that was your goodbye.
Almost foolishly, he pushes the blanket off of his body and gets up to search for the boxes. He’s not sure he could hurt any more than he does now while he stares at the empty corridor. There’s nothing left; any shred of hope he had that you might still be his, is crushed.
This cold feeling runs deep through his body. It starts at his ribs and spreads outward, all the way to his fingers and down to his toes. The chill makes him feel so alone and its grip won’t let up. It’s the sinking realization setting in.
With his head hung in defeat, he makes his way to the couch to curl back up under the blanket you left on top of him. The last bit of love you gave him last night hurts a thousand times worse than he felt when you originally came by.
As he pulls in shaky breaths to regulate his emotions, he reaches up for his jacket that’s still folded on the arm of the couch. Clutching the fabric to his chest, he lets his body shake at the first silent sob that leaves him. It still smells like you.