[When he gives that ribbon a tug, the front falls loose, and while it doesn't come completely undone that it will fall right off, it does offer him a nice enough view, with Tifa biting down on her lip, a smile threatening to overcome her as she watches him.]
It's still early... I think you should take your time.
[She wants him to explore... to memorize the feel of the lace on her curves against her skin. To remember every little detail, every little thread of it—of tonight, just like she intends to. And she can't very well do that if they rush through everything, can she?
And so, they will take their time unraveling one another under the glow of the stars, flowers, and the lights on this secret little landing. Another secret place where this memory will only be shared between the two of them and no one else. And though the cold winter air falls in over them, it never quite reaches them, shielded by the heat of their love and passion as they reaffirm every vow, every I love you, every look, every touch again. Not that they need a special night to do that, but how often do they get this chance? How often does the magic and the quiet bless them with the opportunity to do so?
Every day for the past year, they've been blessed with the ability to show one another, but tonight, Tifa intends to take full advantage of it to really be sure that he knows just how much she cares for him. How much she wants to be with him, at his side, until her last breath? Sure, her own self is someplace else, but this self... this version of her belongs to him.
It begins gentle, careful, slow, every single movement so deliberate and calculated, as if they both want to ensure that before the night is done, they will have touched every inch of each other in some way. And of course, as is typical with them, they do, and what started gentle turns into throes of wild passion, the flowers no longer their pure white but red and bright and so very vibrant, the heat melting away all of the snow around the tree until it's bursting with colour, the branches glowing with flowers, the lights having spread upward to paint the sky as Tifa's voice fills it with cries of his name.
And when they are all but spent hours and hours late into the night, lying on the floor together, wrapped up completely in each other, she presses another lazy, slow kiss to his lips, her eyes only half open from the sleepiness that threatens to take her, and she smiles.]
⚡🎀🌠 fin.
It's still early... I think you should take your time.
[She wants him to explore... to memorize the feel of the lace on her curves against her skin. To remember every little detail, every little thread of it—of tonight, just like she intends to. And she can't very well do that if they rush through everything, can she?
And so, they will take their time unraveling one another under the glow of the stars, flowers, and the lights on this secret little landing. Another secret place where this memory will only be shared between the two of them and no one else. And though the cold winter air falls in over them, it never quite reaches them, shielded by the heat of their love and passion as they reaffirm every vow, every I love you, every look, every touch again. Not that they need a special night to do that, but how often do they get this chance? How often does the magic and the quiet bless them with the opportunity to do so?
Every day for the past year, they've been blessed with the ability to show one another, but tonight, Tifa intends to take full advantage of it to really be sure that he knows just how much she cares for him. How much she wants to be with him, at his side, until her last breath? Sure, her own self is someplace else, but this self... this version of her belongs to him.
It begins gentle, careful, slow, every single movement so deliberate and calculated, as if they both want to ensure that before the night is done, they will have touched every inch of each other in some way. And of course, as is typical with them, they do, and what started gentle turns into throes of wild passion, the flowers no longer their pure white but red and bright and so very vibrant, the heat melting away all of the snow around the tree until it's bursting with colour, the branches glowing with flowers, the lights having spread upward to paint the sky as Tifa's voice fills it with cries of his name.
And when they are all but spent hours and hours late into the night, lying on the floor together, wrapped up completely in each other, she presses another lazy, slow kiss to his lips, her eyes only half open from the sleepiness that threatens to take her, and she smiles.]
... Happy anniversary, Eustace.