Amalia
stop thinking so much
A life he is willing to share with her, if only in small part- and oh, does it feel lovely to spend an evening like this. A normal day with normal activities, followed by
It feels like home.
"Definitely." Amalia's smile is soft and warm, something vulnerable in the expression, the word, despite the humor of the topic, the laughable idea of blackberry assaults. She rises and tries to make her mistake, and his response is exactly what she would expect, wonderful in its predictability, because it means she knows him, that they have reached a level of comfort the girl has only ever dreamt. She settles easily in his lap, putting up a protest wholly for show, struggling and squirming through laughter and grins. Only when he whispers upon her ear does Amalia freeze, briefly going rigid before melting in his embrace, a shudder ripping through her figure as her hands clench the arm of the chair, toes coiling, a guttural moan exhaled from her lips. "Not fair," the baker hisses, tilting her head to allow him access, giggling as his beard tickles her neck. Her hips move almost involuntary, half attempt at escape, half response to his touches; for a moment she is too distracted to fully grasp his question. "Mmm? 's a secret," Amalia replies, twisting in his arms to turn her face toward him, trying to lay her own kisses on his cheeks.
you're breaking your own heart
