Noelle lay sprawled across the bed, utterly spent but undeniably content. Every inch of his body ached in that satisfying way that followed an intense session with Thorne. He pushed his husband off him with a groan, though the action only earned him a low, rumbling laugh that made his already tired body twitch in response. It was ridiculous how much stamina Thorne had, especially since their wedding. They had been at it nearly every day, and Thorne never seemed to tire. Not that Noelle minded. In fact, he loved it.
But still, the dull ache in his lower back reminded him of the toll it took on his body. He shot a playful glare at Thorne, who lay beside him with a satisfied grin on his face. Noelle couldn't help but think about how massive Thorne's cock was—something he had quickly discovered on their wedding night. It was, in Noelle's opinion, a weapon of mass destruction. He had almost bolted that night, nearly panicked at the sight. Oddly enough, during the time he nursed Thorne back to health, naked and vulnerable, Noelle hadn't even really looked at him in that way. His mind had been solely focused on keeping his husband alive.
The bed shifted as Thorne rose, moving about the room without a stitch of clothing, exuding a sense of smug satisfaction in every step. Noelle watched him through half-lidded eyes, admiring the way his muscles flexed with each movement. Thorne soon returned with a damp cloth, and with a tenderness that made Noelle's heart flutter, he began wiping down his body.
The gentle care in Thorne's touch made Noelle's chest tighten in that now-familiar way, and he made a mental note to add some herbs for heart health to his food. At this rate, with how often his heart raced around Thorne, he was sure he was overworking it.
"You look like you went through a storm," Thorne remarked with a chuckle, his deep voice carrying a note of satisfaction as he glanced at Noelle's thoroughly spent form.
"I might as well have," Noelle pouted, though there was a teasing glint in his eyes.
Thorne's gaze softened, his smile never leaving his face. "The food's cold now."
Noelle's stomach gave a little rumble in response. He had forgotten about the meal entirely. "Let me warm it up," Thorne offered, his hand sliding lower in a not-so-subtle attempt to start something again.
Before he could go any further, Noelle swatted his hand away and snatched the cloth from him. "I'll finish up. You go to the kitchen," he said, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Thorne just laughed, that deep, hearty laugh that always made Noelle's insides turn to mush. He stood and, still naked, sauntered out of the room, leaving Noelle lying there in a mix of exasperation and fondness.
"What an asshole." Noelle muttered to himself, a soft smile playing on his lips. "He's my asshole though."
*
After dinner, we settle into our nightly routine, snuggling together on the old rocking chair in front of the fireplace. The fire crackles softly, casting a warm glow over the room, and the rhythmic creak of the chair sways us gently back and forth. It's a peaceful moment, one I've grown to love, wrapped up in Thorne's arms, feeling utterly safe and content.
Of course, it wouldn't be complete without Grape, the fat bird, swooping in to join us. He lands with a soft thud near my feet, ruffling his feathers as he makes himself comfortable. Grape might be our child now, but I still remember how much I hated his father. The old bird had been my arch-nemesis, a relentless pest who seemed to delight in making my life miserable. Grape inherited just enough of that to be a nuisance, though his saving grace is that he annoys Thorne more than me. Watching Grape torment my husband is one of the few things that makes me tolerate the little creature.
Still, Grape has a knack for pissing me off. Back in winter, every time Thorne and I tried to take things to the next level, Grape would appear, squawking, knocking things over, or just getting in the way. It was like he had a radar for ruining intimate moments.
But tonight, Grape is behaving as he has been these days, I think it's because he's afraid we'll leave him again. We left Grape when we went to get married, we didn't mean to but he really was the last thing on our minds. Grape stays quiet, and I relax further into Thorne's arms. His hand moves in slow, soothing circles over my lower back, each motion making me feel even more drowsy. There's no place like being held by him—wrapped in his warmth, his scent filling the air around me, calming and comforting. His pheromones surround me, lulling me into a peaceful sleep.