Snow drifted everywhere slowly, soft, like the sky was shedding feathers down on them. The Moby had been moored on this winter island for several days now, long enough to see the entire ship blanketed under a thick coat of glittering frost. They weren’t expected to leave anytime soon; they had sailed too close to shore during the last blizzard, and the ship had become firmly frozen in place.
But if they were trapped, it was the gentlest sort of captivity. They had food, fuel, warmth, everything necessary for waiting out in comfort. And when Pops declared that a Christmas party was in order, everyone agreed, wholeheartedly.
The door of the main hall closed behind them with a soft thump, and suddenly the noisy, rowdy Christmas party was nothing more than muffled background sounds. When they stepped out onto the deck, a gentle swirl of frosty air greeted them, carrying with it the cold yet sweet scent of pine.
Marco snorted softly the moment the door shut, lifting a hand to wipe at the faint smear of whipped cream that still lingered near his jaw. “Yoi… I swear, Thatch is a menace.”
You blinked up at him, then laughed, quiet and fond. “You were absolutely minding your business when you got caught in that.”
“I was,” he said, mock-solemn. “All I wanted was a refill for my wife. And what do I get? assaulted.”
You smiled at the word wife, reaching up to brush your thumb lightly over his cheek where a bit of cream had escaped his earlier efforts. “At least it was festive?”
Still smiling, they drifted to the railing, leaning into its cold wood. Snowflakes gathered on your lashes; you wrapped your arms around youself in a futile attempt at warmth.
“This is nice,” you admitted, breath puffing white. “But I’ll be glad when we thaw out enough to leave.”
Before another shiver could take you, Marco stepped in behind you, folding your into his jacket and pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. Heat radiated from him like a fire.
“How are you so warm even though your ‘flames of revival’ aren’t?” you asked.
“I’m hot-natured,” he said with a lazy shrug. “’twas like this long before the fruit.”
“Must be nice,” you muttered, snuggling closer despite youself. your eyes drifted out over the frozen sea. “It feels like we’re standing inside a snow globe.”
Marco’s chuckle rumbled pleasantly against your back. “Can’t wait to see your pretty snow globes tonight.”
Your face went pink immediately, matching the red holiday lights strung along the Moby Dick’s railings. You covered your cheeks with your hands, groaning softly.
“Marcoooo…” you muttered through your fingers. “Why are you like this?”
He only chuckled, warm and unbothered, and pulled your tightly to him. “Because it’s fun to see you flustered, yoi.”
“That was so bad,” you complained, though your voice cracked with a smile.
You elbowed him lightly or at least, your version of lightly, which for most people onboard would’ve required medical attention. Marco only laughed again and hugged your tighter, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Don’t say things like that out here,” you whispered, still red. “Someone might hear.”
“Everyone else is still inside, drunk and shouting carols,” he reasoned. “Besides—” He nuzzled just behind your ear, sending a warm shiver through you. “It’s just us out here. And you look cute when you blush.”
“I’m not blushing, my face is cold,” you protested weakly.
“You are,” he said. “Beautifully.”
For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The deck creaked softly beneath them; the distant singing from the hall rose and fell like a tide. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the glow of the ship’s holiday lights, catching in You’s hair like tiny stars.
“C’mere,” he murmured, sliding one hand down to take yous.
Before you could question it, he stepped back just enough to face you, keeping your fingers laced with his. His other hand settled lightly at your waist. It took a heartbeat to understand what he was doing.
“…Marco,” you said, staring up at him with wide, pink cheeks. “Are you trying to dance with me?”
“Hm? Trying?” His smile tilted, smug and so incredibly fond. “I’m succeeding.”
The deck was quiet, coated in soft snow; the wind hummed low and gentle around them. The music coming from the main hall was offkey and not at all romantic but Marco swayed with your anyways like they were alone in another world entirely.
You placed your free hand on his shoulder, letting him guide your in a slow turn. The snowflakes spun with them, glowing under the warm holiday lights.
The cold nipped at your exposed bits of skin, but wrapped in Marco’s arms, you felt insulated from winter entirely. Each step traced gentle circles across the deck, their footprints the only disturbance in the snow. You leaned in, forehead brushing his chest.
Marco’s hand stroked your back in slow, soothing arcs. “You know,” he murmured, “my cabin’s a lot warmer than out here.”
You tilted your head up at him. “Is that so?”
Marco’s cabin door clicked shut behind them. The fire crackled softly in the lit fireplace. Marco shook the snow from his shoulders, then crossed the small space to tug a large, ridiculously soft blanket from the bed. He gave it a dramatic shake, sending a few stray flakes drifting to the floor.
“Come here, yoi,” he said.
You stepped toward him, and Marco draped the blanket over both of them before pulling your into his chest. It was like stepping into a pocket of heat. you sighed, settling against him, letting the blanket and his steady warmth swallow your whole.
Marco brushed a loose strand of hair from your cheek, his fingers lingering there, warm and unhurried.
“Do you want some hot tea or coco?” he asked.
“No,” you said softly. “I’m good right here.”
Marco’s hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing along your skin with care, like he was holding the most precious thing in the world.
You leaned into him before you even realized you was moving.
After a moment, Marco shifted, glancing toward the fireplace built into the far wall of the cabin, its embers still glowing softly. “C’mere. I’ve got an idea.”
He guided your down to the floor, grabbing extra pillows from the bed and the couch and piling them together in front of the fire. He layered blankets over the top, tucking the edges in like he was building a nest.
He settled down into the pillow bed, the fire casting warm light across the cabin. You curled against him, your legs tangled, your head resting against his chest. The fire crackled softly, a steady, comforting sound.
Marco kissed you again, slower at first, then deeper, as if he were savoring the moment. Trying to prolong it. One hand slid into your hair, fingers threading through the strands as he drew your closer. You leaned fully into him, your heart racing, the world around them fading until there was only the warmth between them.
A quiet sound escaped him a soft, breathless moan and he closed his eyes, resting his forehead briefly against hers as though grounding himself.
He drew closer, fabric slipped away, unimportant now, forgotten in the hush between breaths. You leaned into him as his attention traveled slowly, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Time stretched.
His lips brushed along the curve of your hip, a teasing contrast against your chilled skin, sending a shiver through you. He lingered there for a moment, unhurried, as though memorizing every breath you took.
He settled against the makeshift nest cradling both of you and pressed a light kiss to your stomach. The air between you felt charged, heavy with anticipation, and he paused and licked lightly. Almost tickling.
You let out a gasp as he ascended lower, and immediately nuzzled into your mound's downy softness, pressing his cheek and facial hair against you as if he were attempting to mark you as his own.
Marco moved slowly along your velvet folds, each lick offering a taste of your sweetness. With a practiced touch, his fingers pistoned in and out you. You came quickly on his daft fingers.
After licking up every last drop, he settled beside you, reclining against a tower of pillows. A drowsy, satisfied smile curves across his mouth. “I’ll never get over how good you taste,” he murmurs as he pulls you in to snug embrace.
