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The apartment still smelled like fresh paint and pine floor cleaner, but Melissa had already started leaving her scent behind—vanilla shampoo on the pillows, strawberry lip balm in the bedside drawer, a faint trace of laundry softener on the clothes she folded too neatly for someone who used to live out of duffel bags.
Van sat cross-legged on the bed, thumbing absentmindedly at a corner of the comforter. Melissa was unpacking her last box. The room was quiet except for the sound of tape peeling and a soft hum from the street below.
“You really don’t have to unpack everything right now,” Van said, voice a low, affectionate tease.
Melissa paused, glancing over their shoulder. “I know. Just feels… like if I finish this, then it’s really real. That I’m not gonna wake up back in the trailer or…” She trailed off.
“Or in the woods?” Van offered gently.
Melissa nodded.
Van opened their arms, wordless. Melissa came without hesitation, crawling onto the bed and curling up against them like it was instinct. Van held her, breathing her in—soft hair, warm skin, a faint trace of nervous energy she hadn’t quite let go of.
“I used to think about this,” Melissa mumbled into their shoulder.
“What, moving in?”
“No.” A small giggle. “Well, yeah. But mostly… you. You and me. Like this.”
Van’s chest ached, slow and full. “I thought about it too. More than I’ll ever admit.”
Melissa pulled back just enough to look into their eyes, hers already glassy, like the weight of softness was too much to carry alone.
“Can I kiss you?” she whispered.
Van smiled. “Please”
The kiss was slow and trembling, all the years of hesitation dissolving between their lips. Van’s hands cupped Melissa’s face like she was fragile porcelain, and Melissa melted into the touch, letting out a tiny whimper against their mouth.
“Fuck, you’re sweet,” Van murmured, brushing her hair back. “Been wanting to take my time with you forever.”
Melissa nodded, breath catching. “Please… Van…”
They eased her down onto the bed, gentle as if laying her into a sunbeam. Van kissed her again, trailing soft presses along her jaw, down the curve of her throat, until Melissa was gasping softly and clutching at the hem of their shirt.
“Want me to take care of you?” Van asked, their voice rough with emotion. “Make you feel good, puppy?”
Melissa whined—high and desperate and lovely—and nodded so fast it made Van smile.
“Okay,” Van whispered, “Just breathe for me, yeah?”
Clothes slipped off like petals falling, nothing rushed. Melissa’s body trembled under their touch, but it wasn’t fear—it was relief, the kind you feel when something you’ve longed for finally arrives and tells you: I’m staying.
Van’s mouth was reverent, warm, kissing every inch of her with worshipful patience. Melissa moaned quietly, hands tangling in the sheets, hips rolling helplessly as Van’s fingers found her, gentle and steady.
“Good girl,” they murmured against her skin, and Melissa whimpered, shivering from head to toe.
“Say it again,” she begged, barely audible.
Van kissed her hip, then up her stomach, hand still moving with practiced care.
“You’re such a good puppy,” they said softly. “So good for me. Just like I knew you’d be.”
Melissa sobbed—not from pain, but because it was too much in the best way, the way love is when it’s real and soft and finally yours.
She came with a cry that cracked in her throat, whispering Van’s name like a prayer. Van held her through it, murmuring sweet nothings, kissing her until her breathing slowed and she blinked up at them with teary, adoring eyes.
“I’ve always.. liked you” she said.
Van kissed her forehead. “I know.”
Melissa laid beneath them, flushed and blinking through the haze of her orgasm, but her hands never stopped moving—grasping at Van’s waist, stroking their arm, petting through the short strands of their hair. She wasn’t done. She didn’t want to be done. Not now, not after all the years of pretending it didn’t matter, of hiding how badly she wanted to be theirs.
“More,” she whispered. Her voice was raw but clear. “Please, Van…”
Van smiled gently, kissing her once. “More what, baby?”
Melissa whimpered, cheeks burning. “I want—” She hesitated. Then she swallowed, looked up at them with wet eyes, and said, “I want you deeper.”
Van stilled for a beat, reading her body, making sure that wasn’t panic behind her eyes. But all they saw was want. Craving, so deep it bordered on ache.
“You mean…?”
Melissa nodded, face turning redder. “I trust you.”
Van kissed her slow and deep, hand stroking her thigh while the other found hers and laced their fingers together. “You sure, puppy?”
“I’m sure.” Her legs fell open like muscle memory. “Please—need you.”
Van took their time. They kissed every inch of her, whispered to her like she was holy, and reached for the lube she’d helped unpack just that morning. When their fingers slid back inside, Melissa moaned and relaxed instantly, her thighs trembling but eager.
“Breathe for me, sweetheart,” Van murmured, watching her fall apart piece by piece, each sound she made melting into the quiet room. They worked her open slowly—two fingers, then three, murmuring praise between every stretch.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” they breathed, voice deep and thick. “Taking me so well. Such a good puppy for me.”
Melissa whined—long and high-pitched, her hips rolling up in silent plea.
“Yeah?” Van asked, thumb stroking slow circles over her clit. “You want more?”
“Please—please, Van—want your whole hand,” she gasped. “I can take it. I want to—please—”
They kissed her to muffle the sounds she made as their fingers eased deeper, knuckles pressing at the edge of her limits. They went slow, infinitely slow, giving her time to adjust, pulling back to check her face constantly.
Melissa’s body arched when it happened—when Van’s hand finally slid in, careful and full. She cried out, but not in pain. It was the sound of relief.
“Oh, fuck,” she gasped, eyes fluttering. “Fuck—Van—”
“I’ve got you, baby. Just breathe.”
They held her steady as she writhed, helpless and overwhelmed, her free hand clinging to their arm like a lifeline. Van barely moved—just slow, gentle pressure, a rock in the tide of Melissa’s need.
“You’re doing so good,” they whispered. “You’re incredible. Taking me so deep. My perfect little puppy.”
Melissa sobbed, every muscle shivering. She was floating, flying, home.
When she came again, it was loud and messy, her whole body seizing around them. Van kissed her through it, easing their hand out slowly, murmuring soft affirmations as Melissa trembled, her thighs still twitching.
They pulled her into their arms and wrapped the blankets around her like armor.
“I’ve got you,” they whispered, brushing damp hair from her forehead. “You’re safe now. You’re home.”
Melissa blinked up at them, dazed and glowing. “Fuck,” She panted. “Thank you..”
Van had settled onto their back, one arm tucked behind their head, the other wrapped loosely around Melissa, who lay draped over their chest, still catching her breath. Their skin was flushed, damp with sweat, and they looked more relaxed than Melissa had ever seen them—like something heavy had finally slipped off their shoulders.
But she wasn’t done.
Melissa pressed a kiss to their collarbone. Then another, and another, trailing slow down their chest. “My turn,” she murmured, voice still thick with bliss but steady.
Van blinked down at her, sleepy-eyed. “You just—baby, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she said firmly, kissing the space just beneath their ribs. “Let me take care of you. Please?”
Van softened instantly. That familiar ache behind their eyes—the one that always came when someone showed them too much kindness—surfaced, but they didn’t fight it. They nodded and leaned back, watching her with quiet awe.
Melissa took her time.
She kissed every scar, every freckle, every part of them that had ever felt unworthy. Her hands were warm and confident now, stroking down Van’s sides, fingertips whispering across their hips.
“You’re so handsome,” she whispered. “So fucking beautiful. I’ve wanted this—you—for so long.”
Van made a soft sound, almost bashful, and Melissa smiled against their skin.
When she slid down between their thighs, Van gasped softly, their hand reaching for hers. She took it, kissed their palm, and didn’t break eye contact as she mouthed at the sensitive skin of their inner thigh, slowly—deliberately—building them up.
Van’s voice cracked when she took them into her mouth, not rough or hungry but worshipful. Her tongue moved slow and wet, her gaze fixed on their face, watching every stuttered breath and parted lip. Van’s hips jerked once, and she reached up instantly to steady them.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, lips slick. “Let go. Let me make you feel good.”
And they did.
Melissa stroked and sucked with a rhythm so soft it was maddening, letting Van fall apart at their own pace. She whispered to them between kisses, things she never would’ve said out loud a year ago:
“You taste so good.”
“You’re so sweet for me.”
“You deserve this. You deserve everything.”
Van’s thighs trembled, breath ragged. They came with a broken moan, fingers gripping her hair, trying not to be too loud but failing. Melissa held them through it, kissing them gently until they were twitching and oversensitive.
Afterward, she crawled up beside them and wrapped herself around them like a blanket. Van was still catching their breath, blinking slow and dazed.
“Holy shit,” they whispered hoarsely.
Melissa smiled, brushing sweat-damp hair off their forehead. “You liked it?”
“I think I saw God.”
She laughed and nuzzled into their chest. “Good. Then we’re even.”
Van pulled her close and pressed their lips to the crown of her head. “Not even. Not even close. I’m the luckiest person alive.”
Melissa mumbled something into their skin that sounded suspiciously like same.
The bedroom had gone still, the kind of silence that only comes after every part of you has been touched and seen. The streetlights outside painted soft gold stripes across the walls. Melissa lay curled against Van, one leg slung over theirs, breath finally even. Her fingers idly traced circles on their chest, slow and absent, like she never wanted to stop touching them.
Van let out a little hum, eyes half-closed. “You’re clingy after sex.”
Melissa blinked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Oh, it’s adorable,” Van said, grinning. “You’re like a big sleepy heat pad.”
Melissa groaned into their shoulder. “Don’t say that. I’m trying to be sexy.”
“You were sexy. Now you’re cuddly. Deal with it.” They tilted their head to kiss the top of hers. “Anyway. I don’t think anyone could forget how worked up you got when I called you a good puppy.”
Melissa froze.
Van’s grin widened.
“Oh my god,” she muttered. “You’re going to bully me about this forever, aren’t you?”
“Bully? No.” Van’s voice was teasing, but there was real affection underneath. “Gently mock? Absolutely. I mean, puppy, really? That’s what does it for you?”
Melissa whined—just a little—and pulled the blanket over her head.
Van laughed, full and warm. “Oh my god, you’re actually hiding.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me,” Van corrected, smirking. “And you like it when I call you that. Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you practically melted every time.”
Melissa peeked out from under the blanket, cheeks flushed but eyes soft. “I didn’t plan to be into that. You just… said it, and something short-circuited in my brain.”
“Well, for the record?” Van traced her jaw with the back of their fingers. “It was really fucking hot. You sounded so needy, so desperate to be good for me. I could’ve eaten you alive.”
Melissa squeaked, hiding her face again.
Van chuckled and pulled her close. “Hey. I like all of you, alright? The part that lived in a trailer park. The part that survived the wilderness. The part that is OBSESSED with backwards hats.The part that likes getting praised like a puppy. Every single messy, beautiful part.”
She looked up, eyes shining. “You mean that?”
Van nodded. “Course I do. But don’t think that means I won’t tease you about it endlessly.”
Melissa sighed, dramatic. “I guess I can live with that. If I get to keep you.”
“You’ve had me,” Van said softly, brushing their nose against hers. “You’ve always had me.”
“… Hey my hat looks cool.”