This Still Belongs to You and Always Will

Chapter 20

Gerard’s P.O.V:

“Dreaming again?” Frankie questioned, tightening his grip around the duvet.

“Mmm.” I replied, sliding under the covers beside him.

He kissed my neck and slid an arm around my stomach. I smiled and wriggled back into his warm body. His lips curled into a weary smile against my skin. He let a finger trail down my chest through the pyjamas I had on.

“I don’t like these!” He whispered in my ear.

“Why not?” I questioned, looking down at the black sleeves “I think they look all right.”

“Yeah, they look fine, but I don’t like them.”

“And why is that?”

“I can’t see your very sexy chest!” He replied, popping open the top button.

I chuckled to myself and let him undo the second button too. He made me turn over to face him and pulled the pyjama shirt apart where he’s unbuttoned it. I rolled my eyes fondly.

“Like that?”

“Very much!” He giggled to himself “It looks much better.”

I smiled and cuddled closer to him. He was clad in boxers and a white t-shirt that I never wear. The t-shirt was a bit big for me let alone him! The hem flapped around at the bottom of his thighs, almost hiding his boxers from view. He muttered something about maybe one more wouldn’t hurt and let his fingers undo the third button. Before I could think, my pyjama shirt was unbuttoned and being slid off my shoulders.

“Now how did that happen?” I questioned.

He smiled and shrugged, sliding an arm round my now bare back.

“What were you dreaming about this time?” He asked gently.

“Nothing.”

“Gee,” He sighed “You’re lying to me again.”

“No! It really wasn’t anything important.”

“So why won’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s not important.”

“Whatever,” He shrugged like a sulky teenager “Goodnight.” He added, kissing my cheek and settling down to go to sleep.

“Damn you and your guilt tripping,” I muttered “You’re worse than a woman.”

He giggled lightly and snuggled up to me. I thought for a while as he drifted back to sleep. It’s not that I don’t want to tell him; it’s that I don’t want to talk about Michaela. Especially not to Frankie. It’s not like she’s important any more anyway. It’s been fifteen years.

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