She’ll never forget that moment. Her skin was somehow warm and cool all at once, tingling from the rain, the shower and his touch. And now there was the thudding of her heart, the rain still hitting the windows as she turned in his bathroom, wrapped in his towel that smelled like him.
“What?” She whispered, not at all able to hide the shy smile that was quickly turning into a grin. She’d heard him, loud and clear as if he had shouted. But she wanted to hear it again - she needed to. To look into his eyes. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t heard it before from a man. But Matt was different. Matt was strong, he wasn’t needy, he wasn’t clingy. He was stable and steady. Exactly what she needed. Exactly what her kids needed. He held the safety she’d been missing since her father’s passing.
He kissed the corner of her mouth, then her nose, winding his arms around her and pulling her close. “I love you,” he said again. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
It was stupid and cheesy and the best part was that he couldn’t care less. He lifted over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and dropped her, squealing, onto his bed. He descended upon her, pressing kisses along the exposed skin of her shoulder and neck and grinning at the array of sounds she made in response. Gwyn was everything to him. She was his best friend. She was funny, beyond talented, gorgeous, and probably the strongest person he’d ever met. He wanted hour upon hour of being near her- he didn’t care what that encompassed, so long as he could be with her. He was practically in puppy-love. He could see nothing wrong with it.
“Okay, I’m going to vote that we veto tarp-sex for the foreseeable future.”
god, I love this picture.
Me too. :) And I love the one of you and Apple slicing the potatoes that I took immediately after this one, too.
She almost cut off my finger! It was on purpose, too. She said I was being ‘despicable’.
HAHA I’d forgotten about that, oh God. Because you smacked my ass when you thought she wasn’t looking!
It was a love tap!
(Source: apple-moses-martin)
Gwyneth Paltrow’s Roast Chicken, Rotisserie-Style
(via Self)
so good. so good.
Why thank you. Are you sure it’s not just because you like to lick your fingers while eating it and tease me?
This conversation really could go two ways.
So I’m gonna answer yes.
god, I love this picture.
Me too. :) And I love the one of you and Apple slicing the potatoes that I took immediately after this one, too.
She almost cut off my finger! It was on purpose, too. She said I was being ‘despicable’.
(Source: apple-moses-martin)
god, I love this picture.
(Source: apple-moses-martin)
Gwyneth Paltrow’s Roast Chicken, Rotisserie-Style
(via Self)
so good. so good.
(Source: parade.com, via nataliastark)
a matt/gwyn playlist.
[x]
- giving up- ingrid michaelson
what if I fall further than you? what if you dream of somebody new? what if I never let you win, chase you with a rolling pin? well, what if I do?- pressure suit- aqualung
you’re all I’ve ever needed. I know that you won’t feel…
(Source: frizzoli)
Gwyneth knew the date. Even if she had no calendar, no technology to remind her, the weather always reminded her. Sure, she loved the crisp air of fall as much as anyone, but it always seemed a bit colder to her. Because she remembered how unseasonably cold it was that day in Rome. That day her father, the one single person she could always count on, who promised he would never leave - left. It was sudden and yet expected all at once. He’d been sick for a very long time, and she even felt relief. Relief that he wasn’t in anymore pain. But also, selfish anger that she was the one in pain, now.The years after that were a whirlwind. She stayed busy, so she wouldn’t think. She hadn’t shed a single tear about her father’s death in years. She knew it wasn’t healthy. She knew it when she married Chris, she knew it when she had Apple, when she had Moses. It was almost comical to her that the story went around that Chris had written “Fix You” when she broke down. It wasn’t breaking down. It was a small crack that she quickly sealed up because now she had to be her own person. No one was gonna hold her hand, no one was gonna fix everything. She had to fix herself.
Fixing herself didn’t include her marriage. They were divorced in 2010, just before her first appearance on Glee. There were rumors that her friendship with Matt was what caused the demise of her relationship, but it had been a straw house, weakly built with poor foundation. And the hurricanes of life - births, deaths, weeks and months apart - simply eroded them. Bit by bit, piece by piece. She didn’t cry. The kids weren’t even fazed - that spoke volumes. Their father was so absent that moving to another country didn’t even make that much difference, they saw him about the same amount of time as when he was married to their mom.
When things with Matt began, she’d been scared. This was Hollywood, this was cliche. Running from one guy to another, one celebrity to another was something she had banished to the explorative years of her twenties, vowing never to return to. But Matt was relentless…in a gentle, quiet way. He was her friend, her confidant. And soon enough but not too soon, her lover.
They made love for the first time in his backyard in Queens. It was raining and the plastic sheeting ended up doing next to nothing to keep them dry. Neither of them minded.
They were a little bit drunk. Not too much, just enough to think that sex in the rain on a tarp was a good idea. They had come to an unspoken decision to wait to do this until they were officially a couple. It was weird, really. Because he was a ‘ladies man’ and she was…well, she was her. Gorgeous. Sexy. Irresistable. But he managed. He did it for her sake, honestly. Because he needed her to know that this meant something to him. And besides, the waiting made the sex so much better, even if they were slipping all over the place and fumbling with too-long limbs and laughing into each others mouths the whole time.
Following that was making love in the shower. Because they both needed to get warm and clean and her body looked so good in soap and water, more so than in Gucci or Prada or anything else except maybe his arms. He has never felt so connected to anyone in his life and he whispers that he loves her into the damp hair on the back of her neck when he wraps the towel around her. It’s not as if he hasn’t said it before, it’s just that here, like this, it means something new. He loves her in a way that predestines them for a life together. He is hers, if she’ll have him. And for now, she does.
