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All Night

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He missed you. And, though he’d been acutely aware of it all day, though he’d hardly been able to see anything but the disappointed look in your big eyes when he’d had to run off in the middle of your first meal out together in almost eight weeks, it was nothing to the feeling that bowled through him now.

Curled up on your side. Blanket and sheets clutched beneath your chin. He could see your face by the dim light creeping in around his own body in the doorway and his heart broke.

When you’d first started sleeping over, back even before you’d moved in together, he’d find you in the middle of the bed on nights like these. Late nights, when he was home long after you’d gone to sleep. He’d called you a bed hog, but you’d refuted him.

“This way, you have to hold me when you get in bed, or you’d fall out.”

But now you were leaving room. Even on this frigid winter’s night when happier lovers would have cozied up. Skin to skin and close as they could, even if only for the excuse to stay warm.

Legs made of lead he stepped further into the room, closing the door a bit behind him so the light wouldn’t shine directly on your eyes and wake you. He sat gently at the edge of the bed, still in his suit, and watched you some more.

He should get undressed, go to sleep. It’d be another early morning for him tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to take his eyes off you. Couldn’t think past the need to pull you close and make everything all right again. For you to want to his arms around you through the night.

He sighed, louder than he should have, and turned to rest his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.


Your groggy voice cut through the still air and he turned back again, guilt shredding his insides.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What time is it?” He watched you drag yourself up into a sitting position, still folded in on yourself. Your hair stood around you in a messy halo and you were so beautiful he ached with it.

“Almost one.”

He had to be awake again in five hours, before even you’d planned to get up, though you’d gone to bed earlier than him. He imagined a full night in bed with you and the fissure in his heart deepened.

Your only response was something between a sigh and a laugh. There was no amusement in it. And it was too tired to be exasperated. Resigned was the only word he could think of.

“You should go back to sleep.” He whispered.

Another tired laugh.

“And you should go to sleep.”

“I will in a minute, gotta get out of my suit.”

You gave a small nod, resting your forehead on your drawn up knees, arms wrapped around your calves. You didn’t lie back down again, though.

“Really, baby, go back to bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Will you?”

“Of course.”

“Just sometimes I don’t know, ya know.”

The words were quiet and still thick with sleep. His own words came thick and garbled, too.

“Yeah, I know.”

“You’re gonna burn yourself out, Sonny.”

It was his turn to sigh. You weren’t wrong. But he also couldn’t see anything for it. Not right now.

“I mean, I know you won’t do it for me. But for yourself, at least, Mary and Joseph, you need rest.”

“What do you mean I won’t do it for you?”

He would do just about anything for you, anything that he could, anyway. And certainly if he was going to find a way to slow down it would be entirely in your name. For the continued privilege of being allowed to crawl into bed with you, your warm, sleeping form demanding to be held. To put off the night when he’d come home and you wouldn’t be here, anymore.

“You know what I mean, I just mean—ugh—Sonny, you need to sleep.”

“No, tell me what you mean ‘I wouldn’t do it for you?’”

He wasn’t at the edge of the bed, not now. Now he was sitting in the vacant spot where your legs had been, turned towards your bent knees and the sleepy face he loved more than life itself.

“Sonny, come on, you’re not gonna make me spell it out are you? At this hour.”

“If you can say something like that to me at this hour then you can spell it out at this hour.”

“I mean, I know that I’m not reason enough to pull back from work. I get that I’m not that important, but for yourself, please—”

He uttered your name like plea. Like a prayer. His head shaking of its own volition.

“You are the most important thing to me.” He whispered. Gravel in his voice and terrified tears pricking at his tired eyes. He knew what you would say, knew how you could think such a thing. But it wasn’t true. It was the most untrue thing.

“Stop it, Dominick.”

“You don’t believe me.”

He hadn’t meant it as a question or even an accusation, but you took it that way.

“I’m not trying to fight with you. I’m not trying to say you don’t love me. I know your work is important. Can we just, can we go to bed, please?”

“It’s not more important than you are.”

“Dammit, Sonny. Please don’t make me list out all the shit you’ve missed these last few months.”

“I know. I know, baby, I’m sorry.”

He hung his head, long fingered hands running over his face. What could he do, what could he say. What could he do in the face of the gnawing feeling that this might be it, the end of the thing that made him happiest, the happiest he’d ever been in his life. With you.

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I’m not upset with you for wanting to do well at your new job, I get that you feel like you have something to prove, and I knew that it would be hard on both of us when you decided to do this, I knew that certain things would fall by the wayside. What I didn’t think was that you’d stop being a man who kept his promises to me.”

“I know. I know, but they needed a warrant and—”

“And you are not the only ADA in Manhattan. They could have called someone else, you could have told them to call someone else. You aren’t the only person who can go to a judge for them.”

“I know that.”

“And we were already out. I get that it’s harder to say no to someone if they catch you as you’re walking out the door, or an hour before you leave or whatever, but we were out, we were in the middle of our entrees, you shouldn’t have even answered your phone.”

“I know that, too. I’ll get better about that, I will.”

This earned him another frustrated sigh. He watched you put your head back on your knees, your hands, which had begun to gesticulate about you coming to rub sleepily at the sides of your head, your hair even messier.

“I know this has been hard,” he began, looking for the words, trying to control the fear clawing up his throat, “and you have been amazing, puttin’ up with all of it, and I am so, so grateful for you, and I know a broke a promise to you last night, but that is never, ever gonna happen again. I’m gonna figure out the balance of this. We are still gonna have a life together, just, just give me time, baby. Please. I can’t—I can’t lose you.”

He finished in a whisper, and even so he was sure you could hear the dread, the plea in his voice.

“Oh, Dominick.”

The words were soft, tender, and he looked up in hope despite himself to look into your warm eyes, your hands now caressing his face, the scratchy stubble and the cold-chapped skin.

“Dominick, you’re not gonna lose me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“You really thought I was gonna pick up and leave ‘cause you walked out on dinner?”

“Not just dinner. I thought, ya know, after all these months like this, that this might, I don’t know, be the last straw or something.”

“Have I been making you feel like that?” A little horror had creeped into your own voice, a sick feeling pooling in your belly.

“No, ‘course not. You’ve been amazing. You’ve not given me a hard time once, I just, I feel like I definitely deserved it, much more than once.”

Even admitting this made him feel ashamed, eyes cast down on your knees so he wouldn’t have to see your expression.

“You know, I think they have a name for that.”

“Do they?”

“Mhmm.” You hummed at him. He thought he could hear a smile in it and he looked up again, tentative and hopeful.

“And what’s that?”

“Catholic guilt.”

He laughed, only once, but it was a real laugh, the kind that lifted the weight from his heart, that left a smile in its wake.

“Are you teasing me, miss missy?”

“Maybe a little bit.” You grinned, pinching an invisible pearl of humor between your thumb and your pointer finger. He nodded slow, a contemplative look coming over his face, before he was on you.

You shrieked before he could even begin, twisting in your blankets to get away from what you knew was coming. Sure enough, his deft hands made their way under the covers in no time, under your chunky knit sweater to the warm, bare skin underneath, long fingers dancing like ants up your sides.

“How’s this for funny?” He smiled in your ear, his chest laid firmly across your back, holding you to the mattress.

“I’m Catholic, too!” You pleaded in a staccato rhythm, every word punctuated with a loud squeal. The squirming did you no good, either.

“Say three Hail Mary’s for your sins and I’ll stop.”

“You’re not a priest!” You continued to screech.

“Eh, say ‘em, anyway.”

In desperation you began to recite the familiar prayer, with difficulty, of course, given the present situation. It was absurd and you were pretty certain you were dying, but the playfulness that had come over the man you loved was too precious to discourage. And, despite the dying-feeling, you felt lighter than you had in months.

“—and blessed is the fruit of thy womb—dammit, Sonny! Please!”

Mercifully he let up, dancing fingers turned to warm palms on your skin, his lips like hot iron against your ear.

“Ya know, I don’t think that’s how it goes.”

“Oh, no?” You whispered back. You could hear a familiar tenor in his voice, something low and hungry. The sound sent a hot tingle through your navel and pooled in the sanctum between your thighs. You were suddenly acutely aware of his hips pressing into your bottom, your nipples tightening into painful buds against the straining mattress.

It would be easy for him to take you like this, to pull your leggings and your panties down around your knees and have you exactly as you were. You thought of his strong thighs pressing into you, his big hands massaging the flesh of your ass as he slipped slowly in and out of you, thick, hard cock stretching, filling, sliding. Over and over, unrelenting, filling you completely, your wetness like nectar pooling in the sheets, coating his length and his balls and his pelvis as he pounded his hips into your soft flesh, his thumb running up between your cheeks to tease that second tight little hole of yours.


“Yes, baby?”

His hips pressed you harder into the mattress and your back arched of its own volition, ass angling up into his pelvis. You could feel his hard length and you let out a breathy little sigh. You heard him laugh.

“What?” You asked, indignant.

“I thought you said we should go to sleep.”

“We need to get you out of your suit first, though, remember.”

He laughed again, hot breath still in your ear, lips grazing the skin and soft cartilage. Carefully, he nipped the edge with his teeth, and there was no way you were going to sleep now.

He lifted his weight off you as turned up into him, lips meeting in fervent clash of tongues and teeth. He slipped his hand around the nape of your neck and held it fast, tongue deep in your mouth as it warred with yours, hips settling themselves in the hollow between your thighs.

You could feel that your panties were already soaked as you ground your wet center relentlessly against his slacks, now straining against his fully hard cock. If he didn’t take them off soon he’d have either his fluids or yours on them when he took them to the dry cleaner and you were pretty sure he’d be too mortified to return in that case. It was thinking only of his reputation as a good Catholic boy that you slipped your hands between your bodies, undoing his belt and the button at his waist to slip the fabric down over his thighs. You wanted to take the time to run your hands up the muscled limbs, over the firmness of his bum, but he made you wait, leaping back off the bed to remove the rest of his suit and lay the garments quickly over the chair by the door. He returned to you in only his socks and you wasted no time pulling him back to you, getting your hands on every inch of bare skin you could find.

Speaking of bare skin, his hands were back under your sweater, coming over the mound of each breast as he kissed you hard, massaging the flesh he couldn’t see but knew by heart, every sight, touch, sound of you burned forever into his memory. He loved the way it made you arch into him, the way your thighs fell open even wider until he was lying flat against you, only fabric between your aching sex and his.

His desire building, it wasn’t enough to touch you any longer. He needed to taste you. To feel the tight little buds beneath his tongue, your skin like satin on his lips. Pushing your sweater up under each of your arms he did just that, your high pitched little ‘yes’s and ‘yeah’s joining the sound of rustling sheets and heavy breathing. Your hands tangled in his thick salt and pepper hair and you pulled tight, his chin and his jaw pressed hard enough into your chest they might leave bruises. You didn’t care at all.

He moved to kiss down your belly but paused to take your sweater off the rest of the way. For what he planned he wanted an unobstructed view of you, to watch your face as he inched closer and closer to the place you wanted him most. Only once it was gone, when he could see every inch of you from your navel to your halo of bed head did he continue, licking and kissing along every inch of your abdomen, down your thighs as he tugged your panties and your leggings away in one fell swoop. He sat back on his heels when he was done to take in the sight of you totally bare and open for him, your wet pussy on display between your silken thighs, your breasts heaving in the dim light, your face like heaven, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Gently, more gently than you’d expected, he glanced his fingers around each of your knees, following them with impossibly gentler kisses. His eyes flicked tenderly between the skin he was ministrating to and your face, the deep pinch between your brow and your open, pouting lips, watching your expression grow more deliciously pained as he nuzzled along your skin, until he was right between your thighs, his lips hovering a hair’s breadth from your glistening center.

“Sonny, please.” You whimpered, and he obliged.

There was one deep kiss to your clit, and then his tongue. It swept upwards along the swollen flesh, your arousal coating his mouth in an instant, his tongue dipping only the tiniest bit into your opening, fluttering along the lips of your labia, firmly massaging the aching nub at their apex. You cried out loudly, your fingers in his hair again as you pulled him closer, rutting against his mouth, his stubble tickling the sensitive skin in the most delicious way possible.

He had to take an even firmer grip on your thighs, pushing his hands up behind your knees until you were spread so wide you could hardly move. Helpless as you were his tongue pushed you closer to your absolute limit, your body beginning to quiver erratically as he worshiped you.

He was loathe to stop, to pull back for even a moment, not until you’d come all over his mouth shaking and calling his name. But it was late, it was very late, and he knew that you were tired even if just now you didn’t look it, and he wanted to come with you, inside you, to feel you quake as much as watch you. So, though he hated to do it, he pulled back.

Your protest was immediate. An affronted whine which he cut off with his lips, pushing you back into the mattress with the weight of his own body. You were the warmest softest thing he’d ever felt and he groaned into your neck with the sensation. He knew he wouldn’t last long like this and he took a moment to steady himself, breathing in the scent of you, relishing your body pressed firm against his.

Still reeling from the departure of his tongue you’d wrapped your legs around him in an instant, encasing his hips in your warmth. Not yet on board with this pause in the proceedings you pushed your sex desperately up into his trying to slip him inside you. A deep chuckle reverberated through his belly and he smiled against your lips in the dark, his knuckles running softly along your hair line.

“Impatient are we?”

“You’re a tease and you know it, Sonny Carisi.”

He laughed again and you smiled, trying to still your heaving chest, to meet him in this intimate moment. You could taste yourself on his lips and you kissed him deeper, marveling in the closeness. How was it possible to love another being this much. To be so close that they existed inside, around, and about you, two souls so entangled that distance and time could not undo them.

He kissed you once, twice, and as his tongue slipped inside your mouth so too did his cock edge into your entrance, stretching you with ease as he pushed in slowly, in an inch and then out a half, repeating the tortuous pace until you were almost crying, until he was buried to the hilt inside you.

He picked up the pace only slowly, one hand gripping your neck and your jaw, the other looped tightly around your waist, bracing your body against his. You dug your nails into his forearm, his back, foreheads pressed hard together as he filled you over and over. You could feel his cock in your belly, like you would burst with the fullness. You could feel his testicles slapping softly against your perineum and you were undone.

In a jumble of cries and utterings you came hard. Shuddering and writhing, every muscle in your body seemed to snap, every one of them throwing you closer into his pelvis. Your walls spasmed around him, a crucible of ecstasy, and he fell over the edge with you, cock twitching as he spilled himself inside you. Something to remain even after you’d both drifted off, curled into one another but no longer joined. 

The loudest of the sounds fell away, the slapping of skin on skin, your loud cries, his deep groans, until it was just the sound of heavy breathing, and the ever present hum of New York City through the window. All sense of time had flown away and now it was just him and you, a tangle of limbs and the inseverable tangle of hearts. You belonged with each other, and whether that had always been true or the two of you had made it true by sheer will alone, nothing could undo it now. You lay there in sacred stillness, in the ebb and flow of your breath, of his heart beating against yours.

But, while time and space might have fallen away, the cold hadn’t, and though you were toasty warm under the blanket that was Sonny, goosebumps were beginning to creep along his exposed skin.

Hating that the moment had to end, and hating that he didn’t know when he would be back here like this with you, he began to shift. He nuzzled your nose with his own by way of an apology, to soften the blow it was to both of you for him to pull away. It would be morning too soon and sleep was quickly taking him.

“Hold me all night, won’t you?” Came the soft whisper in his ear, and he smiled.

“Absolutely. All night.”

And he did.