Apr. 30th, 2006

not_that_spike: (lying down)
Yesterday's fresh rose petals are scattered all over the floor, and he thinks it's a hell of a pleasant thing that when they got back from Hephaestus, the room was made up and the flowers freshened with new petals waiting for them. It's just a nice touch, that's all, for Steve and Marie Browning, honeymooners at the Edge of the World.

Who the fuck needs marriage, anyway, when two people have what he and Beth have? They're already more committed to each other than most people ever get and he knows part of that's just him, it's the way he is, and when he falls, he falls hard. Really hard. He's been in the company of other beautiful women back at the bar. Some were even literal goddesses but not a single one of them could hold a candle to his angel, his goddess, his woman. As far as he's concerned, she's the beginning and end of his universe.

Besides, last mornings at places like this are things to be savored, to be thoroughly enjoyed. They have till mid-afternoon to check out and he looks at three things here besides Beth: the bed, the shower, and the hot tub. He has plans to take advantage of all three.

Not wanting to wake Beth, he's perfectly content to just lie there with her nestled against his body, watching the rise and fall of her chest and belly as she breathes, watching the dreamy little smile on her face. This bed is almost as soft as the one in New France and if he could, he'd import it back with them. That won't happen, but it's a fuck of a good wish to have.

The sky outside gradually lightens from black to slate to purple to periwinkle; he has a momentary rush of appreciation for the climate control people here. It's a hell of a nice place.

Almost as nice as Venus.

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