The Burning Rose

9 ~ PETRICHOR

Give you my wild, give you a child.
Give you the silence that only comes
When two people understand each other-

~Taylor Swift, peace

Petrichor

"And that is supposed to be unattractive somehow, you say?", her voice was a low, amused hum that seemed to feather right along his skin. So similar to the breeze that whipped strands of his hair into his face and kept obstructing his view of the city and the sky. 

His fingers only sifted through the smooth edges of the pages, words unseen. 

How could he afford to see and decipher swirls of ink when her red-painted fingers caressed the edge of the ornate cover. 

He held back his sigh, but not his halfway-stifled smile.

"My love, I am supposed to be going through-", the book was swiftly taken from his hand, smoothly enough for him to not even notice when he let it go. Well, he was convinced that that had more than just a little to do with her entire presence. With the way she comfortably curled up into the cushions and let the book settle on her lap. 

A beautiful little frown formed between her eyebrows. Oh, why would the gods not give them a daughter already? Just a daughter of hers, he could not even bring himself to care about which of them brothers would make a better father for her, as long as this gentle, fiery woman could have a daughter with her little frown and her achingly expressive eyes. 

Well, who was he trying to deceive? He wanted a daughter with every little feature of hers. That little dimple that was a little further away from the curve of her mouth than was considered classically adorable, and thus gave that peeking feature a different edge of attraction. 

This look on her face right now as she let that book absorb her into its pages, uncaring of the sky or the sprawling, twinkling city underneath, or the fact that they were in their little lounge-bed in their expansive balcony, and that she was in nothing but the one sheet of pastel silk that hid the rawness of what had transpired between them not long back. 

Oh that thought made his attention snap right back to the present, alright. She was bare, next to him, and suddenly that was all he could think about. 

"Maybe you can finish the samhita later?", he sighed almost as if attempting to distract himself. 

"Change my mind.", she challenged  without so much as looking up from the book, without that frown of concentration so much as lightening. 

He did not even attempt to hold back his smile as he wrapped an arm around her, under the pretence of tenderness, and then of course skimmed his hand underneath the sheet and down the side of her curves in that exact touch that he knew drew that open, breathless laughter out of her. 

And of course the first giggle was ripped right out of her, "My lor-", but she had to bury her face in the pages all too soon when he let his other hand trail along just the right crest of her curves, too. 

And then the distinction between his form and hers, his laughter and hers was erased all too soon. Limbs tangling, breaths mingling and her laughter filling the air. He didn't quite notice when it wasn't about tickling or tackling her anymore, and his hands were just wrapped around her body as he pulled her to him. 

Didn't really notice when she no longer laughed for any apparent reason. Possibly because he was just too busy joining in her laughter too. Too caught up staring at the way her entire face glowed when joy took over it.