HELP!
Nanami is reciting the song "I wanna be yours" by Artic Monkeys in your ear, while the two of you are slow dancing in your living room.
My stupid brain making up scenarios, sigh
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Extreme fluff up ahead!
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It's one of those rare evenings. One that's free of worry, of stress and most importantly, one that's shared with your husband.
It's rare for him to be home early, and to have enough energy to join you at the dinner table, let alone take the time to savor his wife's company. But when it does happen, you both make the most of it.
You order take out, the good stuff, and you pull out the good bottle of wine youâd saved for moments like this.
And you sit.
Together, on the couch or at the dinner table. It doesn't matter. You just enjoy eachothers company. Sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes while you'retalking about whatever topic that comes to pass or when the mood is exeptionally right, naked, between the silk of your shared beds sheets, all sweat slick skin and soft sounds of pleasure.
But sometimes, sometimes you would share it like this. Standing in the middle of your living room. One of his arms around your waist, the other holding your hand against his heart and his cheek resting against your forehead as he swayes the both of you to the music that sounds softly from the speakers.
Nanami is a serious man. But every now and then, there is a little playfulness he lets shine through. Often, in moments like these: his guard down in the privacy of his own home, with the person he trusts the most.
He moves his hand to join his other at your waist and pulls you closer. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck and plants a little kiss against the skin there. It makes you giggle a little as your own hands link at the back of his neck, softly running your fingers through his undercut.
He lifts his head, his mouth at your ear. The warm breath against its shell gives you goosebumps and youâre about to scold him for his teasing when you hear him whisper;
âI wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust. I wanna be your Ford Cortina, I will never rustâŠâ
It takes you a second to understand what he is doing, saying words he would never think of saying himself. But when you do, you laugh, throwing your head back and when you look back at him, you see the little twinkle of mirth in his eyes.
God you love this man. You think to yourself as he recites the rest of the song you used to play on repeat when you were head over heels with him but hadnât yet confessed. It fills you with an incredible amount of warmth to hear him say (not sing, definitely not sing) these words you hold so dear to your heart.
âSecrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought. Maybe I just wanna be yours, I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours.â
The words are nothing more than whispers against your ear as he holds you close and dances with you.
When the song ends he looks at you as his hand cups your cheek and wipes away the errant tear that runs down. His lips form a warm smile which you return.
All you say is âI love youâ as you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your cheek against his chest. No more needs to be said.
You're his. And he is yours.
Now and and forever, no matter what the future may bring.
