Tinsel

by SolarTorch [Reviews - 2]

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  • Teen
  • None
  • Het, PWP

Author's Notes:
Thought of this whilst trying not to panic when running around doing my Christmas shopping.

Our eyes meet for a second, and her smile is reflected in the glowing white baubles. Her cropped blonde hair gently frames her face; her cheeks, rosy as her name, are luminous, radiant from the heat of the room and the situation. Her eyes caress my face , and falter for a second, tracing down my nose and resting on my lips.
Our tree is magnificent. After days of badgering, she finally managed to get me interested in the idea of a Christmas tree. It’s huge, and a brilliant green, wound with silver tinsel. Half of it is already stuck in the grating, and I know that I’m going to be picking it up off the floor for weeks. It’s worth it though, all the back-breaking labour, carrying the humungous bastard of a twig, and the severe drain on my pockets to buy all the sparkly … things that seem to have entranced her.

Entranced. Yes, like I am by her, unable to look away for fear of missing a smile, a glimmer of love in her deep chocolate eyes. She’s so kind, so lovely, so unbelievably her that my hearts cannot help but flutter every time she says my name.
I wonder, sometimes, what does she feel for me? What am I to this dazzling creature? Am I her gallant knight, her saviour from the ivory tower, from her prison of everyday domesticity? Am I her friend, the person who tells her jokes and teases her, who helps her and who guides her? Am I her keeper, with her only staying on her due to necessity, that she feels it’s her duty, now, after all this time?

Could I ever be her lover?

“Kiss me”.
That was her lips moving. She said that. Wow. She said that.
I move towards her, slowly.
It’s more that I could have ever imagined. Forget fireworks, this is a supernova.
Her fingers are running through my hair, down onto my shoulders, my chest, my stomach and then…. Lower.
There!
Her clothes seem to have disappeared, and all of a sudden I’m far too dressed. We both realise this at the same time, and try to remedy it, getting tangled up in each other. I press myself to her, breathing in her scent, tasting the skin at the nape of her neck.
Gasping, pushing, heaving, licking. I pray to any God bothering to listen, my thanks for this encounter.
Suddenly the universe implodes.

We spend a few minutes lay on the cold floor, heating it up with our sweaty skin.
She turns to face me. My hearts are beating furiously. Please. Don’t let her say it was a mistake, please.
Her beautiful face breaks into a smile, and she licks her lips.
“That was…fantastic”, she murmurs, snuggling into my chest.
“Couldn’t agree more!” I say, trying not to let my voice squeak with relief.
“Rose?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you, you know.”
“I know. Love you too.”
She relaxed into me, kissing my nose, my lips, my cheeks.
I laugh, and pick up a stray piece of tinsel, winding it round her shoulders. She’s my angel for the top of the tree. Screw that shop-bought piece of tat, I’d rather have her any Christmas.

Later that day I slipped a small box under the tree. It was a small box, containing a loop of silver and a rather impressive diamond.

She said yes!