Her hands were small and soft, trailing down his sides. The cocoon of her pink hair fanned underneath her, around her head like a halo, and indeed, she was an angel. The soft glow of her skin underneath the fading candlelight, just barely lighting up the flush to her cheeks and the sparkle of her eyes. She was truly a beautiful creature.
She arched against his chest, gasping into his mouth as he caressed her most private parts and delicately, he skimmed his fingers down her body, tickling the skin and listening to the soft panting and silent "no" and "not there!" But they were half-hearted and he delighted in her soft breaths. They fanned over his neck when she pulled back from the kisses, her lips skimming his shoulder and he shivered when she nibbled his collarbone.
She was always so shy, but in intimate moments like this she truly shined. He always loved watching her dance, and while dancing her confidence blossomed, shown like a gentle glow from her heart. It was the same while they were together. Her fingers clutched his short hair, pulling at the strands. They brushed the bandana across his forehead lightly, and he stopped to adjust it, listening to her giggle. With a frown he kissed her hard on the mouth to quiet her, relishing in the way she kissed him back.
The blanket covered the lower part of their bodies, but his shoulders rose clearly from the cot. Once Slim had walked in on them, his face was almost as red as Olivia's. He booked it pretty quick after that, and Olivia almost dashed for the hills too, so shy she was oblivious to her current naked state. Luckily he'd pulled her back before she'd gotten a step outside of his tent.
Of course, back then they hadn't made their relationship common knowledge. It'd still been in the working stages. Although sex in his tent during the late hours of the night wasn't exactly "taking it slow" or "stretching their legs". Olivia had always been a bit hesitant but he'd convinced her to come and, oh, were those nights the best.
The golden ring on her finger, the one he'd made for her, the one she'd almost eaten along with the dessert he'd also cooked up, shined brilliantly against the candlelight. He tilted his head, brought her fingers to his lips, and kissed the cold metal, not taking his eyes off her face. She blushed horribly and he always admired the way it made her even more beautiful.
"G-Gauis..." His name on her lips was hesitant but nevertheless sent shivers down his back, and he ducked his head to capture her lips again, relishing in the sweetness of her tongue.
Nights like these were always somewhat peaceful. Just the two of them in such an intimate state. He'd seen everything about her, and her of him. Even the brand on his arm. She had asked about it as soon as she'd seen it. He'd been worried at first that she'd take what he explained the wrong way, but her only response was to take his wrist and kiss the tattoo. His heart had leapt, especially when she drew away, blushing and apologizing in that way of hers.
She was crying out his name now and he felt her teeth in his shoulder as she grasped his shoulders, trying to keep herself upright against him and he held the cot fast in his grip. He kept things slow because he knew she liked it that way, and frankly he loved it too. Just enjoying each other's skin, the feel of each other's hands and body. Olivia was small underneath him and he made sure to treat her like a princess. She was his Queen, like Blue and his wife. Though not in title, but she was to him.
When coming down from their high, Olivia would gently wipe the sweat from his brow and pet his head, almost like a dog. It embarrassed him but he never made too much of fuss. He enjoyed the soft feel of her fingers in his bangs and hair. He made sure to kiss every inch of her skin until she was giggling and pushing him off. He'd roll aside onto his back and draw her up against his frame, arm wrapped around her waist, and somehow, she'd fall asleep before him. He'd just lay there, watch her sleep, making sure each breath was a peaceful one. When he was sure nothing would happen to her, he'd slowly allow himself to drift off into his own dream world.
The morning after was...gentler. She'd wake before him. He'd wake to the absence of her warmth, and the smell of warm soup. She'd always grab something for him at the mess tent, knowing full well he preferred snacking early, then eating with the others. This way she made sure he at least ate something worthwhile. He'd never admit it, but he looked forward to the plain ole soup. Sometimes even more than his sweets. ...Sometimes.
He'd dress and take the soup and eat in his tent. She'd show a little half-way through the bowl, wearing her usual dancing attire. She'd blush when she would see him and he'd grant her a toothy smile.
The rest of the morning was generally easygoing. They talked about the march. About Blue and Bubbles, about the Risen, about her dancing and her dream. He always loved listening to her talk about her dream. He'd sell all of his candy to buy her that theatre. If it'd make her smile. He'd do practically anything for her.
When she wasn't paying attention, he grabbed her by the waist and drew her up against his side, kissing her temple. She squeaked and punched him in the ribs a few times, very lightly not enough to hurt. He laughed and she pursed her lips but allowed him to kiss her forehead before he'd leave for training during the day.
He'd catch her dancing every now and again. See the way her body twirled, the shimmering sparkles of the cloth that decorated her body spinning, and shining like stars. She always looked happiest while dancing, and in truth it made him jealous. Maybe she felt that way about him and his candy. He'd quit if he could, honest. Just to let her know she meant the world to him. She was the happiest thing in his life.
He'd never tell her to stop dancing. Never. It was what made her who she was. It was what he loved about her. More than the smell of her hair. More than the softness of her lips. More than the blush that always covered her cheeks. It was her passion. The sparkle in her eye when she explained her dream. The way she laughed while dancing. He loved her so much. He could watch her dance forever.
She dragged him over, laughing, hands tugging on his own. He shook his head. Dancing wasn't his style. He preferred to watch her. Besides, he'd just make a fool out of himself. Out of her. She refused to believe any of that talk. Forced him to come out into the open. She took his hands in hers and brought him close. Then they were dancing. She led, he followed. It became...comfortable. The steps were not fast, not like her usual flourishes. She explained it was called a waltz. She said you needed a partner to dance it right and she wanted him to be hers.
She let him lead. He took her hands this time and moved. She moved with him. He was surprised how easy it was. She giggled and nodded, beaming, congratulated him, laughed when he pouted. Then she coaxed him to spin her. He did. She spun in his arms, laughing gaily and Gauis saw the shining expression on her face. It was the same expression she wore while dancing, but her eyes were only on him. He chuckled, she asked what was funny. He said "nothing". She pouted. Then she closed the gap and kissed him. Right in front of the crowd. He blushed horribly. Scolded her fiercely. She blushed too, hiding her laugh with the back of her hand. Claimed it was punishment for keeping secrets from her. He sighed. Told her it wasn't a secret he was keeping. He'd just finally understood something. She asked what. He smiled, brought her closer, and kissed her hotly. She drew back, furiously blushing. He laughed.
He finally understood. He had never been second best.
I'm a big fan of this pairing. Thought I'd contribute a little of them to the Fan-Fic universe. 3