“i could’t stop thinking about you all day.” (ivan & mila!)
nsfw prompts.
The bathwater’s scented with rose petals and lavender oils; they ease the nerves that tense in Mila’s absence.
There’s a little paint in her hair and across the smooth lines of her fingers, and Ivan’s sure to warm their water so it comes off easily. When they’re close like this, time seems to move slowly. The relative gauge he typically uses to understand the world around him turns on its head. When he’s with her, when she’s with him, when their gazes hold steady, he knows that there’s something cosmically different happening.
Whether that’s a good or a bad thing is for no one but them to decide. Ivan’s stomach turns with thoughts of destiny and where it’s brought them. He’s had a complex relationship–and recent mistrust–in the notion of fate for a long while now. They’ve chosen each other, and that is a power greater than anything the world could have thought to create. He won’t allow any measure of kismet to speak over their love of each other.
That’s why he smiles when she rounds the bathtub and sinks into his arms. They are tolerating measures of daily destiny almost always –– today, for example. He would have done anything to go along with her to finish one of her recent canvases, but there were a few photographs he still needed to develop from a dark room. All of the time-sensitive things catching up to them is to be expected, but that doesn’t make it any less painful.
Any time away from her is.
Perhaps that’s not the most sensible thing in the world–but he doesn’t define himself as sensible, especially not when so much of her skin is exposed, and her hair is so soft at her shoulders. He loves the shape of it as one hand snakes around her waist, pulling her up to his bare chest while the other lifts to caress her jaw.
His mind doesn’t parse much other than the way the sunset’s light filters into her eyes. He does, however, notice the pain behind his ribs dissipating. Settling. Or quieting, maybe. Whatever it’s doing, it clears his head (or perhaps it’s just making it easier to forget the rest and focus on her, dizzy as that leaves him).
Mila says, “I could’t stop thinking about you all day,” and Ivan’s heart is carried away in their unending dance.
He lowers his head and she takes one soundless, tiny step closer to him. Onto her tiptoes, they revel in each other’s weight. The halfway-met sensation of her skin on his. The warmth that blooms like smoke from a hearth. He knows he was meant to live in this world when she touches him. It’s been more this way than it’s ever been, despite everything, in the last several months. And truthfully, Ivan is unspeakably grateful.
He kisses her before he speaks, because he is selfish. And because the taste of her is something he doesn’t know how ever to go without again.
“For me–it was the same. It was the same, yeah. I was thinking of what you might think while I was deciding which to bring home. I needed your eyes with me. ”
He feels her leg shift at his side, and Ivan’s hand grazes her side, drawing lower. She tips her head and he feels her hair trickle back, swept away from the pretty apple of her cheek.
“Pero te necesito conmigo siempre. So... not exactly new. I know.”
Her smile against his skin is his favorite shape.
He loves her so much that it almost always hurts. But right now, the hurt he knows when they’re apart is worth the warmth of his helping her out of her underclothes and helping them both into the hot water.
There is a little laughing, and a lot of kissing, and he maps her body in his mind with each palm.
