I came back from work carrying the day on my shoulders—emails, noise, people asking for things I didn’t care about.
The apartment was quieter than usual.
Not empty… just muted, like someone had turned the world down a little.
She was on the couch with a blanket pulled up to her waist, hair tied messily like she’d done it without looking in a mirror. Her face was soft but tired. The kind of tired you can’t sleep off. Her eyes lifted when I walked in, and she tried to smile like she didn’t want me to notice.
I noticed anyway.
“Hey,” I said, dropping my keys into the bowl by the door. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she murmured too quickly—then added, quieter, “Just… not feeling great.”
I sat beside her, brushing the back of my fingers against her cheek. Her skin was warm. Not feverish. Just… warm in that way that made me want to take her stress from her body with my hands.
“You ate?” I asked.
She shrugged. “A little.”
That was all I needed.
I didn’t ask more. Not yet.
I stood up, rolled my sleeves, and walked to the kitchen like it was a ritual I’d been waiting all day to do—take care of her in small, quiet ways.
I made hot chocolate the way she liked it: milk warmed slowly, cocoa sifted in, a pinch of salt because it deepened the flavor, and enough chocolate to make it feel like comfort instead of a drink. I added marshmallows even though she’d pretend she didn’t care. Then I sprinkled a little cinnamon on top because I knew she’d smell it first and soften without meaning to.
When I brought it back, the warmth of the mug lit her face a little.
She cradled it with both hands like it was something sacred, took a careful sip, and exhaled slowly like her body had been waiting for permission to relax.
We sat there for a while, shoulder to shoulder, talking about nothing and everything—small things, stupid things, the kind of conversation that feels like a deep breath. She told me about her day in fragments. I told her about mine in jokes. I made her laugh once, really laugh, and it made my chest loosen like I’d won something.
Then the laughter faded, and the silence that replaced it felt heavier. More honest.
I tilted my head, watching her. “Talk to me.”
She didn’t answer right away.
She stared into the mug like it had the words in it and she just needed time to read them.
“What’s bothering you?” I asked gently. “Not the polite version. The real one.”
Her throat moved as she swallowed.
“I need a break,” she finally said. “From all of this.”
“All of what?”
She waved vaguely—at the apartment, at the city outside, at responsibilities, at stress, at invisible weight. “Everything. I feel… stuck.”
I shifted closer. “Okay. Where do you want to go?”
She blinked at me like the question surprised her. “What?”
“Where,” I repeated, calm and serious. “Tell me.”
She let out a small laugh, but it was tired. “Anywhere.”
“Anywhere isn’t a place, babe.” I brushed her hair back behind her ear, slow and familiar. “Give me a place.”
She sighed, then started naming places like she was tossing stones into a lake just to see the ripples.
“Monaco. Peru. Japan. Iceland…”
My eyebrows lifted. “Iceland?”
She looked at me like I was being ridiculous. “I’m just saying. Not like we’re really going.”
I held her gaze. “Why not?”
That made her pause.
Her expression shifted—surprise, then something softer, like hope trying to be careful.
“Because…” She shrugged, but her voice dropped. “It’s not that easy.”
“It is,” I said. “It’s paperwork and planning and deciding that you deserve a break.”
She blinked. “You’re being serious?”
“I’m always serious about you.”
The way her eyes changed at that—like something inside her unclenched—made my stomach tighten with something darker than romance and gentler than lust.
“If we’re going somewhere,” I continued, “it has to be unique. Somewhere we can leave the noise behind. Somewhere we can disappear for a while.”
Her lips parted slightly. “Disappear?”
I nodded. “Just you and me. No stress. No people. No pretending.”
She stared at me for a long second, and I watched her fight the urge to believe me.
Then she whispered, “Iceland would be… unreal.”
“Then let’s make it real.”
That night, we moved like we were already halfway gone.
She stood up and went to the kitchen to start dinner—comfort food, the kind she made when she wanted to feel in control of something. The chopping board clicked softly under her knife. The stove hissed. Warm smells filled the apartment.
Meanwhile, I opened my laptop at the dining table and started doing what I do when I want something: making it inevitable.
Visa requirements. Applications. Booking options. Routes. A little cabin far from crowds—somewhere near Vík, close to nature and far from city noise. Something that felt like a fantasy setting: black sand, open sky, wind and ocean and nothing else watching us.
She glanced at me over her shoulder. “Are you actually—”
“Yes,” I said without looking up. “I’m actually.”
She shook her head like she couldn’t process it, but I saw the smile she tried to hide.
We ate. We showered. We crawled into bed.
And in the dark, her fingers found mine under the blanket—quiet, grateful, a little shaky. She turned toward me like she needed to make sure I was still serious.
“I love you,” she murmured.
I kissed her forehead. “I know.”
Her voice softened. “I’m scared to get excited.”
I kissed her again, slower. “Get excited anyway.”
Two weeks later, I came home early.
The apartment smelled like something good—garlic and butter, warmth in the air. I could hear soft music from the kitchen. She was there in a loose top, hair half up, moving around the stove like she belonged to this life I was building with her.
She didn’t hear me at first.
So I took my time.
I walked up behind her and slid my hands around her waist, pulling her back against me. I kissed the side of her neck—slow, familiar, intimate enough to make her shoulders drop instantly.
She exhaled. “You’re home early.”
“I missed you,” I murmured against her skin.
Her head tilted slightly, inviting more like she couldn’t help it.
I let my hands travel—unhurried, confident—over her curves, feeling the warmth of her body through soft fabric, the quiet shiver she tried to pretend wasn’t happening.
She whispered my name like a warning and a welcome at the same time.
Then I said, low and close, “There’s a surprise.”
She turned in my arms. “What kind of surprise?”
I held her chin gently, made her look at me. “The kind that changes your mood.”
Her eyes searched mine. “Stop teasing.”
I smiled. “You’ll survive.”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, opened the email, then turned it toward her.
Her face went blank for half a second as she read it—like her brain refused to accept it.
Then her mouth opened slightly. “No.”
“Yes,” I said.
She looked up at me, breath catching. “We got it?”
I nodded. “We got the visa.”
Her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my god.”
I watched the moment her whole body turned lighter—like the weight in her chest finally cracked. She started to bounce on her toes, laugh-crying, eyes shiny with relief and shock and joy all at once.
“We’re really going?” she whispered, like she didn’t want to scare the dream away.
I stepped closer. “We’re going.”
She launched herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck.
I lifted her effortlessly—hands under her thighs—and she squealed, laughing into my mouth as I kissed her. The kiss wasn’t polite. It was urgent. The kind of kiss that happens when you’ve been holding your breath for too long and someone finally tells you it’s safe to exhale.
As I laid her down on the bed, her eyes locked onto mine, filled with a hunger that mirrored my own. I crawled over her, my body pressing against hers, and captured her mouth in a fierce, passionate kiss. Her hands roamed my back, pulling me closer, as if she couldn't get enough of me.
I trailed kisses down her neck, her collarbone, and lower, until I reached the swell of her breasts. She arched into me, her breath hitching as I took one nipple into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue. Her moans filled the room, spurring me on as I lavished attention on both breasts, alternating between gentle sucks and firm nips.
My hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and contour, until I reached the waistband of her panties. I hooked my fingers into the fabric and slowly pulled them down, revealing her perfect, wet pussy to me. She was so fucking beautiful, and I couldn't wait any longer.
I positioned myself between her thighs, and she wrapped her legs around me, pulling me closer. I entered her slowly, savoring the feeling of her tight, wet heat enveloping my dick. We both moaned as I filled her completely, and I paused for a moment, just relishing the sensation.
Then I began to move, slowly at first, but building in intensity as her moans and the rocking of her hips urged me on. I gripped her hips, holding her in place as I thrust deeper and harder, each movement sending waves of pleasure through both of us.
Her nails dug into my back, and I could feel her body tensing beneath me, her breath coming in ragged gasps. I leaned down to capture her mouth in a fierce kiss, swallowing her cries as she came undone around my dick. The sensation of her orgasm, the tightening and releasing of her muscles, sent me over the edge, and I followed her into bliss, my body shuddering with the force of my release as I filled her with my cum.
As we lay there, tangled in each other's arms, our breaths slowly returning to normal, I knew that this was just the beginning. Iceland was waiting, and with it, a world of new experiences and passions to explore. But for now, we were content to stay right here, basking in the afterglow of our sex, ready to face whatever came next, together.
The apartment turned into a mixture of planning and anticipation: lists on the counter, shopping bags by the door, weather apps open on our phones. She bought a book “for the plane” and another book “for the cabin” and then two more because she “couldn’t choose.” I bought practical things—thermals, gloves, heavy socks, a charger, travel-sized everything—and she bought cute things too: a small journal, a new lip balm, a little perfume because she wanted to smell like a memory.
And between all that… we played.
Not in a careless way.
In our way.
The teasing came back, sharper now because there was a deadline. Because we knew we were about to disappear into a cabin with no one watching, and the anticipation made us reckless in small, delicious ways.
In public, we acted mostly normal—mostly.
A hand lingering too long at her waist in a store aisle.
Her fingers sliding into my palm and squeezing at the exact wrong moment, just to see how I’d react.
A look across a café table that wasn’t innocent at all, followed by a small smile like she was proud of what she was doing to me. The tension between us was palpable, and I could feel my heart racing as she leaned in closer, her voice low and teasing.
"Remember, we're just enjoying our coffee," she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Nothing more."
I nodded, trying to keep my composure, but my body was already responding to her proximity. She reached under the table, her hand finding my thigh, and I had to bite back a groan. Her fingers traced patterns on my skin, slowly inching higher, until they brushed against the bulge in my pants.
I shifted in my seat, trying to disguise the effect she was having on me, but her smile only widened. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she was enjoying every second of it. Her hand continued to tease, her touch light and tantalizing, until she finally wrapped her fingers around my dick through the fabric of my pants.
I let out a low hiss, my eyes meeting hers across the table. She held my gaze, her thumb rubbing slow circles over the sensitive tip, sending waves of pleasure through me. I reached for my coffee, trying to act casual, but my hand was shaking slightly.
"See something you like?" she asked innocently, her voice barely above a whisper.
I couldn't help but chuckle, my voice low and husky. "Always."
She gave me a satisfied smile, her hand finally moving away, leaving me aching for more. As we finished our coffee, the air between us was charged with unspoken promises and the anticipation of what was to come.
Later, as we walked through a bustling bookstore, she trailed her fingers along the spines of the books, her touch lingering on mine. I followed her lead, my body pressed close to hers as we browsed the aisles. She leaned in, her breath hot on my ear.
"Meet me in the back corner in five minutes," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
I nodded, my pulse quickening, and watched as she sauntered away, her hips swaying seductively. I counted the seconds, my anticipation building with each passing moment. When I finally made my way to the back corner, she was already there, her back pressed against a shelf, her eyes dark with desire.
"Took you long enough," she teased, her voice low and sultry.
I closed the distance between us, my hands finding her waist, and pulled her close. Her body molded to mine, and I could feel the heat radiating between us. I captured her mouth in a fierce kiss, my tongue exploring her depths, and she moaned softly, her fingers tangling in my hair.
Her hands roamed my body, her touch hungry and urgent, until she finally reached the waistband of my pants. She unbuttoned them, her fingers brushing against my dick, and I let out a low groan. She smiled against my mouth, her hand wrapping around my length, stroking me slowly.
I broke the kiss, my breath coming in ragged gasps, and rested my forehead against hers. "You're playing with fire," I warned, my voice husky with desire.
She chuckled, her hand continuing its torturously slow strokes. "I like the heat," she replied, her voice breathless.
I captured her mouth again, my hips thrusting into her hand, my body aching for release. The world around us faded away, leaving only the two of us, lost in a haze of passion and desire.
As we finally pulled apart, our breaths slowly returning to normal, she gave me a satisfied smile. "See you at home," she whispered, her voice filled with promise.
I nodded, my body still throbbing with unfulfilled need, and watched as she sauntered away, leaving me wanting more. At home, we didn’t pretend.
Finally, travel day.
Bags packed. Passports in hand. Boarding passes ready. She checked everything twice because she couldn’t believe we were really doing it. I watched her buzz with excitement, the kind that makes someone glow from the inside.
At the airport, she held my hand like she was afraid the universe might try to steal me back into routine.
On the plane, we settled in, exhausted from the last few days of preparation and restless desire. The engine hum became white noise. Her head fell onto my shoulder. She slept with her fingers tangled in mine like that was her default state now.
Sometime later, she stirred, glanced around, then leaned in close—mouth near my ear.
“I’m going to the restroom,” she whispered, and the way she said it wasn’t innocent.
She stood, brushed past me slowly, and looked back just once—barely a glance, but it carried a whole message.
Follow me.
A few seconds after she disappeared, I stood up and went after her, pulse steady but heat rising anyway—because there’s something about being surrounded by strangers and still choosing to be reckless with the person you love.
The plane bathroom was small, cramped, barely room for two bodies and a secret. The lock clicked. Her eyes met mine, dark with mischief.
She grabbed my shirt and pulled me in, her lips crashing into mine with a hunger that was both familiar and exhilarating. Our tongues danced together, exploring each other's mouths with a fervor that left us both breathless. I could feel her body pressing against mine, her curves fitting perfectly into my hands as I roamed them over her back, pulling her closer.
Her hands fisted in my hair, pulling me deeper into the kiss, and I moaned softly, the sound muffled by her mouth. She bit my lower lip, teasingly, and I responded with a growl, my hips pressing into hers, feeling the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her clothes.
She reached between us, her hands fumbling with my belt, and I helped her, my eyes never leaving hers. When she finally wrapped her fingers around my dick, I let out a low hiss, my hips jerking into her touch. She stroked me slowly, her thumb brushing over the sensitive tip, sending waves of pleasure through me.
I pushed her skirt up, my hands finding her thighs, and I could feel the dampness of her panties. I hooked my fingers into the fabric and slowly pulled them down, revealing her perfect, wet pussy to me. She was so fucking beautiful, and I couldn't wait any longer.
I positioned myself at her entrance, and she wrapped her legs around me, pulling me closer. I entered her slowly, savoring the feeling of her tight, wet heat enveloping my dick. We both moaned as I filled her completely, and I paused for a moment, just relishing the sensation.
Then I began to move, slowly at first, but building in intensity as her moans and the rocking of her hips urged me on. I gripped her hips, holding her in place as I thrust deeper and harder, each movement sending waves of pleasure through both of us.
Her nails dug into my back, and I could feel her body tensing beneath me, her breath coming in ragged gasps. I leaned down to capture her mouth in a fierce kiss, swallowing her cries as she came undone around my dick. The sensation of her orgasm, the tightening and releasing of her muscles, sent me over the edge, and I followed her into bliss, my body shuddering with the force of my release as I filled her with my cum.
As we finally pulled apart, our breaths slowly returning to normal, she gave me a satisfied smile, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with mischief. We quickly straightened our clothes, and with one last lingering kiss, we returned to our seats, leaving the small, cramped bathroom filled with the scent of our passion and the memory of our secret encounter.
When we returned to our seats, she looked calm like nothing happened—except her cheeks were warm and her eyes kept flicking to mine like she couldn’t stop smiling about it.
Iceland greeted us with cold air and clean silence.
The moment we landed, she practically bounced on her toes. Outside the airport, the sky looked bigger—like it had more room to breathe. The light felt different. Sharper. Honest. The air smelled like winter and open land and something ancient.
We kissed like we’d arrived somewhere sacred.
Then we drove—out of the city, away from crowds, away from noise—until the landscape started to look unreal. Wide stretches of earth, dark and dramatic. Hills that looked sculpted by gods with bad tempers. Wind moving across fields like it owned the place.
Our Airbnb cabin was exactly what I’d pictured and somehow even better.
It sat alone, far from everything, tucked into open land like a secret. No neighbors. No streetlights. Just a small cabin in the middle of quiet fields with nature pressed right up against it—miles of nothing, and the kind of silence that makes you feel like you’ve stepped out of the world.
In the distance, you could see the shapes of mountains like sleeping giants. The wind made the grass ripple like waves. And somewhere beyond all that—hidden but present—you could feel the ocean. Cold. Dark. Endless.
It didn’t feel like a vacation.
It felt like running away on purpose.
We carried our bags in, boots thudding softly on wooden floors. Inside was warm and simple: soft lights, clean linens, a window that framed the wild outside like a painting. The heating made a quiet hum. The air smelled like wood and fresh laundry and a new beginning.
She turned slowly, looking around with that stunned expression she gets when she’s happy but afraid to admit it.
“This is…” she whispered.
“Exactly what you needed,” I said.
She walked to the window and pressed her fingertips to the glass like she was making sure it was real. “There’s nobody.”
“That’s the point.”
She turned back to me and smiled—slow, dark, grateful. “So we can be bad.”
I stepped closer. “So we can be us.”
We unpacked lazily, the way you do when time doesn’t matter. Clothes folded into drawers. Toiletries lined up. Her books stacked on the bedside table like she’d already decided she was staying a long time.
Then she stretched her arms above her head, sighing. “I’m taking a shower.”
I watched her walk away and felt that familiar pull—the one that lived in my chest whenever she moved like she knew she was being watched.
A few minutes later, I passed the bathroom and noticed the door wasn’t fully closed.
Steam drifted out into the hallway. The sound of water filled the small cabin like rain.
I stepped closer and looked in.
She was under the shower, hair darkened by water, skin glowing in the steam. The curve of her body looked unreal in that soft light—like she belonged to the cabin, to the wild outside, to the fantasy we’d been writing together for months.
Water ran down her shoulders and over her curves in slow lines that made my throat tighten.
She didn’t see me at first.
Or maybe she did and pretended she didn’t.
Because when I stepped in, the floor cool under my feet and steam wrapping around me, she leaned back slightly—just enough to let me know she’d been waiting for me to do exactly this.
I went by and saw the bathroom door was open. I sneaked in and saw her body getting wet in the water. The sight of her was intoxicating—the water cascading down her perfect curves, from her titties to her ass, highlighting every inch of her flawless skin. She was a vision, and I couldn't resist myself.
I entered the shower, sneaking up behind her, and grabbed the body wash, pouring it into my palms. I pressed my soapy hands against her titties, feeling their weight and firmness. She jumped slightly, surprised, but then pushed her ass back toward me, rubbing against my dick. I kissed her neck from behind, my lips and tongue exploring her sensitive skin, while my fingers found their way inside her.
She started to grind against my dick, her movements slow and teasing at first, but quickly building in intensity. I could feel her desire matching my own, her body responding to my touch with a hunger that was both familiar and exhilarating. She turned around, dropping to her knees, and wrapped her hands around my dick, stroking it gently before taking it into her mouth.
Her tongue swirled around the sensitive tip, sending waves of pleasure through me. She kissed the sides and my balls, her touch light and teasing, before taking me fully into her mouth. She sucked hard, her head bobbing up and down, her mouth creating a tight, wet heat that had me on the edge of release.
I was about to come, and she insisted that I do it in her mouth. I complied, my body shuddering as I filled her mouth with my cum. She swallowed every drop, her eyes never leaving mine, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.
She stood up, leaning against the wall, and I lifted one of her legs, propping it on my shoulder. I started to kiss her pussy, my tongue exploring her folds, sucking her clit hard. She moaned, her body pressing into me, and I inserted a finger, feeling her heat and wetness. She was dripping hot, her body responding to my touch with a ferocity that matched my own.
I started to lick her pussy and finger her, my movements quick and urgent. She cried out, her body tensing, and I could feel her orgasm building. I turned her over, bending her forward, and started to fuck her from behind. My thrusts were hard and deep, the water splashing against our bodies, creating a rhythmic sound that mixed with our moans and the slapping of flesh against flesh.
I slapped her ass, hard, the sound echoing off the tiles, and she moaned, pushing back against me, urging me on. I spanked her again, my hand leaving a red mark on her perfect skin, and she cried out, her body convulsing around my dick.
I turned her around, pinning her to the wall, and lifted her other leg onto my shoulder. I slid my dick inside her, the angle allowing me to go even deeper. I fucked her hard, my hips moving in a desperate rhythm, my body slamming into hers. I rubbed her clit, my fingers moving in time with my thrusts, and she squirted hard, her body releasing a flood of wetness.
I had to pull out, the sensation too intense, and she rained like a squirt fountain, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy. She dropped to her knees, taking my dick into her mouth again, and I came undone, my cum spraying onto her tits, marking her as mine.
As we finally pulled apart, our breaths slowly returning to normal, we shared a satisfied smile, our bodies still tingling with the afterglow of our wild, passionate encounter. The steam fogged the mirror, and the water continued to rain down on us, washing away the evidence of our passion, but leaving the memory of our connection etched forever in our minds.
Eventually, the water slowed, and so did we.
We finished the shower properly—laughing softly, rinsing, helping each other like we weren’t just lovers but a team. She wrapped herself in a towel, hair dripping, cheeks warm, eyes still dark with that satisfied glow that only comes from being wanted properly.
We walked back to the bedroom like we were floating.
The bed welcomed us with clean sheets and soft warmth. We crawled under the blanket, bodies close, skin still hot from the shower and the things we didn’t do politely.
She curled into me, naked and sleepy, her leg draped over mine like she was claiming me even in rest.
Outside, the wind moved across the fields like a hush.
Inside, her breathing slowed against my chest like the world finally stopped asking her for anything.
I kissed her forehead and held her tighter.
“Still want a break?” I murmured.
Her eyes stayed closed, but her mouth curved into a small smile. “This is the break.”
I smiled into her hair. “Good.”
Because we were only on Part 1.
And Iceland was going to ruin us beautifully.
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