| |
 |
Jora’s smile deepened at his words, soft and quiet, but full of a fierce and steady warmth. “You better get used to it,” she murmured with a teasing edge, fingers tightening gently in his hair. “You married me. No backing out now.” She let her forehead rest lightly against his, breathing him in. It still stunned her sometimes—how close they’d come to losing this. How many nights she’d wondered where he was, if he was even alive. And now here he was, in her arms, in their home, warm and alive and hers. The sea had taken many things from her in this life...but it had given her Sage back. At his mention of the story, her eyes flicked up toward his, softening again. “Yeah,” she murmured. “One day. When she’s old enough to understand the weight of it all.” She paused for a moment, then added, “And brave enough to know not all storms are bad.” She knew Lyra would be brave. Their child—of course she would be. She let herself sink further into his arms, the glow of their home pulling around them like a blanket. The world beyond their little island still turned, uncertain and wild as ever, but here? Here, everything made sense. “I hope she grows up knowing this is what love looks like,” she whispered against his skin. “Messy. Real. Unbreakable.” Then, with a soft snort, she added, “Even with sugar glue and snoring and all.” Because this was them—storm-born, salt-kissed, stubborn to the core—and so very deeply in love. |
|
|
| |
|
Sage had chuckled softly and nodded as she told him he'd better get used to it. "Don't worry," he humemd softly. "Each time still feels like the first. I don't think that will ever change," he added with a soft laugh, moving to press his lips against hers again briefly. He was content to just stand there for a while, though, breathing in her scent, feeling the warmth of her body as she wrapped herself around him. He really did love her....he was so glad theyd found each other. That they'd been able to carve this life out of the island. Built everything they had, despite the storms they'd both had to go through to her here. He hummed softly as she mentioend Lyra, nodding along. "She's already brave," he noted fondly, a smile crossing his face, the movement brushing their lips together. It was just a small touch, but he was reminded of their relationship. How it has always been so strong. Wild. But amazing. "I think she will," he agreed softly. Then he grinned. "After all, she'll have food role models," he added with a laugh. "Though we'll keep our own little secrets behind these doors," he added with a wink, knowing the night that was coming was something Lyra probably wouldn't ever really want to know about. But that was fine....this was something he and Jora held special for just the two of them. |
|  |
|
| |
|
Jora’s nose crinkled with a grin as she tilted her head slightly, catching the brush of his lips with hers again in that soft, familiar rhythm that had long ago become home. “Each time, huh?” she murmured, voice low with fondness. “Good. I like being able to make you fall in love with me over and over again.” She didn’t need grand declarations anymore—his presence, the way he held her like she was something precious, said more than enough. The warmth of his chest against hers, his heartbeat steady and real, made the world feel right. She tucked herself tighter against him, arms winding snug around his waist, like if she held on hard enough she could keep the peace they’d built here forever. At his words about Lyra, her eyes softened even more. “She is brave,” she agreed, voice quieter now, edged with something unspoken. “But I want her to know it’s okay to rest too. To lean on people. To not have to fight everything alone.” She brushed a knuckle gently against his cheek, watching him. Then his grin returned, and she let out a breath of laughter. “Food role models?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling it now?” She gave him a teasing little nudge, smirking. “I’ll admit, we do handle dessert with passion.” His wink had her rolling her eyes—though she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “She’ll figure it out eventually,” she murmured. “We’re not exactly quiet.” But then, after a moment of just holding him again, her voice dropped, sincere. “I like keeping those parts for just us,” she whispered. “The quiet. The soft. The wild. Every version of us.” Her fingers laced with his again as she pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. “Let’s make the most of tonight,” she said. “We’ve earned it.” |
|
|
| |
|
Sage couldn't help but laugh as she claimed she enjoyed making him fall in love with her over and over again, tightening his grip around her slightly, a smile curving his lips upwards against hers. "You do that any time I even look at you," he noted softly, just meeting her gaze with the fondness he held for her so deep in his heart. She really was his lifeline ...without her, he was nothing. He knew she didn't need him to claim these things ...she knew he loved her. She knew he'd never stop loving her. Even on the bad days, even when the pull of the drink was almost too much to beat. He'd always love her, and that was enough for her. She would take that, and help him when he needed her. Shed pour her own love on him when he was incapable of loving himself, carrying him above the waves of his own emotions and thoughts. Sage hummed softly and nodded as Jora spoke about their daughters future. "She will," he noted. "Sometimes being strong means asking for help. If I teach her anything, that would be a good candidate," he noted with a quick lift of his shoulders. After all, where would he be if he hadn't accepted Joras help? Dead, maybe. Quite possibly worse than that. "Well if I'm too loud, it's because you drive me on like that,"; he teased gently. "You like it when I squeak for you," he added, eyes glittering mischeviously. When she mentioned keeping it to themselves, though, he nodded, still just smiling at her. "Me too. This is special. You're special." When she met his eyes, he gazed up at her with a sultry look he knew would make her melt. "Then make me fall in love with you again," he purred softly, sort of walking backwards towards the bed, tugging her a long with him gently, not breaking their gaze. He was conscious of how he was moving though, every step and sway of his body and the soft swish of his hair, which was loose by now, meant to paint a pretty picture for her. To make her want him. After all, he had plenty of these tricks up his sleeve. Why not use them to make it better for her? |
| |
|
| |
|
Jora’s gaze followed him like a storm tide—steady, drawn to him by something deeper than want. Something elemental. She felt it every time he looked at her like that—soft, warm, and just a little wild. Like she was the center of his world. And stars help her, he was the center of hers. Her lips quirked in a knowing smile as she let herself be pulled with him, her hand still locked in his. “I drive you, huh?” she murmured, voice low and playful, though her eyes softened with something tender. “You’re the one painting a whole damn picture right now, Sage. If I melt, that’s your fault.” But she didn’t pull away. Not even when the sultry edge of his voice wrapped around her like silk, making her heart thrum in her chest like a war drum. She loved this side of him—the fire beneath all that softness, the part that wanted her so fiercely it shook him sometimes. The way he moved for her now, deliberate and teasing and gorgeous in a way that would leave her breathless for the rest of their lives. She stepped in close again, one hand rising to brush through the loose strands of his hair, letting them slip between her fingers like water. Her other hand settled against his chest, over his heartbeat—steady, strong, hers. “I don’t need tricks,” she murmured, eyes fixed on his. “You make me fall in love just by existing. But I’ll remind you anyway.” Her voice dipped into something richer, warmer. “I’ll make you feel it.” And with that, she leaned in, slow and deliberate, catching his mouth in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a promise—of love, of heat, of the life they’d carved out together. |
|
|
| |
|
Jora’s gaze followed him like a storm tide—steady, drawn to him by something deeper than want. Something elemental. She felt it every time he looked at her like that—soft, warm, and just a little wild. Like she was the center of his world. And stars help her, he was the center of hers. Her lips quirked in a knowing smile as she let herself be pulled with him, her hand still locked in his. “I drive you, huh?” she murmured, voice low and playful, though her eyes softened with something tender. “You’re the one painting a whole damn picture right now, Sage. If I melt, that’s your fault.” But she didn’t pull away. Not even when the sultry edge of his voice wrapped around her like silk, making her heart thrum in her chest like a war drum. She loved this side of him—the fire beneath all that softness, the part that wanted her so fiercely it shook him sometimes. The way he moved for her now, deliberate and teasing and gorgeous in a way that would leave her breathless for the rest of their lives. She stepped in close again, one hand rising to brush through the loose strands of his hair, letting them slip between her fingers like water. Her other hand settled against his chest, over his heartbeat—steady, strong, hers. “I don’t need tricks,” she murmured, eyes fixed on his. “You make me fall in love just by existing. But I’ll remind you anyway.” Her voice dipped into something richer, warmer. “I’ll make you feel it.” And with that, she leaned in, slow and deliberate, catching his mouth in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a promise—of love, of heat, of the life they’d carved out together. |
|
|
| |
|
Sage just grinned at jora as she spoke, shoulders lifting in a mischevious and definitely flirty shrug as he responded to her. "And you like this picture," he chirped. "So why should I stop?" He was really just messing around....he liked to get under her skin a little bit. And she knew that...they did it to each other all the time. There was no harm in it. When she claimed she didn't need tricks, though, his smile turned softer, and he nodded. "I know," he murmured. She wasn't using him for his body, and these tricks weren't something he felt he needed to do to keep her here. Interested in him, and this life. And he appreciated the fact that she was aware of his history, and pointed out it wasn't necessary. But he had these tricks up his sleeve, and he knew it only made her want him more. Made it all the more magical when they finally came together. So he didn't mind...in fact, he quite enjoyed flirting with her. The look in her eyes always made him feel wanted, but the look when she saw him like this was something different. A little wilder, a little more daring. He liked it. "Good," he noted softly, and had opened his mouth to say more, but by then she was kissing him, and anything he thought he was going to say had been forgotten. He just kissed her back, sort of stumbling backwards as she pressed him against the bed, knees giving in to the frame there. |
| |
|
| |
|
Jora followed him down without hesitation, hands finding his shoulders as he hit the edge of the bed. Her fingers tightened there, not possessive but anchoring—because no matter how many times she looked at him like this, she still couldn’t believe he was real. Still couldn’t believe she’d been lucky enough to find someone who set her heart on fire and soothed every scar in the same breath. She pressed her forehead to his for a moment, their noses brushing as they caught their breath, the kiss leaving them both a little undone. “I do like this picture,” she murmured, voice warm and smoky. “Because it’s mine.” There was pride in her tone, the kind that came from loving something fiercely and fully. She’d fought for him. For this life. For the right to wake up with him tangled in the sheets, to build something lasting together from all the broken parts they’d carried. Her thumbs brushed gently over the collar of his shirt before she pulled it slowly open—no rush, no frenzy. Just the kind of certainty that came with knowing she was allowed to take her time. That he wanted her to. That this was theirs, not borrowed or stolen, but earned. “You’re right,” she whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “You didn’t need to say a thing.” She met his gaze, eyes steady, hungry, and full of love that ran bone-deep. “I’m already yours.” |
|
|
| |
|
Sage had felt a grin form on his face as she kissed him, doing his best to catch his breath as she pressed her forehead against his. It really didn't do much, since the anticipation of the night had stolen his breath a while back. She had stolen it. And he wouldn't have it any other way, really. He couldn't help but chuckle at her comment, moving to wrap his arms around her, just drawing her in a bit more. "I'd give you anything you asked," he agreed, knowing full well this was mutual. "We belong to each other," he added simply, just moving to press a light kiss to her nose. He couldn't help but watch her as she pulled his shirt open, the cool air and warmth of her breath crossing his torso in a way that made his skin tingle. It was a good tingle, of course, but he still shuddered slightly. He craved her touch....he needed it. Her presence, the love she shared with him. Every little bit of it. "And I'm yours," he agreed, just tilting his head up to meet her lips again greedily. |
| |
|
| |
|
Jora melted into him with that kiss, letting his words settle deep into the softest parts of her heart—parts only he had ever reached. She kissed him slow at first, savoring the heat of his mouth, the curve of his jaw beneath her fingers, the hitch of his breath when she touched him just right. Her hands slid along his sides with practiced ease, not rushed, not unsure. She knew him—every ridge of muscle, every faint scar, every place he’d flinch if she touched too suddenly. She’d memorized him, and she worshipped him in every quiet, steady way she could. “You always say that,” she whispered between kisses, lips brushing against his skin like a secret, “and I always believe you.” Her voice was low, reverent—not teasing now, not playful. Just full of love, thick and overwhelming and honest. She drew back for only a second to meet his gaze, her hair slipping around them like a curtain. “You’re mine. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving that you deserve to be loved like this.” Then she kissed him again, deeper this time, no more hesitating—just two hearts finally coming home. |
|
|
Light Rain then Clearing Overnight
