A/N Set a few years after the events in Scarlet. Scarlet and Wolf are living on a remote farm together. That's really all you need to know. Enjoy, review please!
This lazy, sun-tired, sore-muscled time of day was his favorite. When everything as quiet and soft. After work, after dinner, after a nice long bath, where he was warm and fed and clean.
Scarlet got into the routine of nurturing him in a way that was unfamiliar but comforting for both of them. It was nice for her to have someone to take care of, as it was for him to finally be cared for. He'd come in from the fields and she'd have dinner waiting on the stove. She'd feed him new and exciting dishes, a table full of them. If he wasn't such a good worker, she'd be concerned by his steady diet of…everything. But he gave back more than he took, and proved his unflinching loyalty.
It was nice, having someone to take care of. To fuss over and feed and support. He did the same for her, in his way. When she got too tired or cranky of frustrated he'd know what to do almost instinctually. Whether it be a soft kiss pressed to her brow, or a quiet walk in the woods, or simply scooping her up into bed where they could avoid everything but each other.
His truly favorite window of time; usually marked off not by portscreen clocks but by the final orange slant of sunlight, is when Scarlet helps him wash. The sunset dyes her hair violent rage-red when it catches the light. Some strands tomato red, some the muddy red of the barn out back, some the color of shiny copper wires. Her skin glows gold. Her eyes sparkle.
They don't remember how exactly this practice got started. Whether Wolf actually needed the help or if Scarlet just thought it'd be fun was an argument between them, soft bickering as he'd protest "I can do it," while she'd answer, "Just let me help." Though he'd never push her hands away and she'd never offer him the cloth. It felt odd, but nice, how he sat there and she hovered over him, running her hands over his body. It was better than a quick shower before dinner, it was more than that. Sometimes they talked. Usually they kissed, which led to more, which defeated the purpose of cleanliness. It was more than foreplay; it was soft and nurturing, kind, and gentle. Quiet loving words were exchanged, playful nuzzling and pushing.
He wanders up the porch steps in the blaringly orange light, feeling gritty and worn down from the day's work. Early summer was not the most substantial harvest, but it was hot as blazes so even a little work was harsh.
And Scarlet, loading up the truck for the market and waiting around with no company all day selling the food, felt stifled and restless. She'd get home early, before dinnertime, while he returned as the sun raged just along the tips of the trees. She'd have dinner started. He'd be damn ready for it.
Every night, especially the dead days of summer, he'd watch her for a few moments before she saw him. Her hair is tied in a perfectly round ballerina bun on the top of her head. Little curls escape near her neck. Her body shines with sweat. Tight, tiny denim shorts hug her curvy hips and her delicate waist. Her shoulders are bare, her cheeks are flushed. Her bare feet brush against the floor, she shuffles about, too tired to walk properly. He sighs softly, glad to be home.
And tonight, like all nights, the minute he steps through the door she looks up from the stove, sets everything to a low simmer, and tosses him a tomato for a snack. She brushes past him quickly. "Come here, Loverboy. You're not tracking that filth in my kitchen."
Half-dragged upstairs by his collar, he trails behind her excitedly. He gobbles down the fruit, licking his lips for stray juice and a few other choice reasons.
She eases him into a chair they set up in the bathroom for this very purpose, helps him out of his boots, ignoring the gloves he tosses carelessly to the floor, and smiles up at him. He's distracted by all of her; the rosy glow of her pale skin and the lava-colored hair, her dark eyes gleaming.
She runs a warm washcloth over his hands and face. He's a good, effective worker, but not a tidy one. Muddy residue of the day's work coats him.
She climbs into his lap when she finishes with his hands, pressing a quick kiss into the rough but clean skin.
He lets out a pleased growl. She pushes his hair off his face, easing the cloth against his skin. Dirt and sweat smears off of him. He nuzzles his face up into her hand to assist her.
She smiles softly, combing her fingers through his filthy hair. She hums some nights, tonight is one of those nights where she's quietly sad, but content in the emotion. A soft little melody trembles in her throat.
The first time she made her soft little music he was confused, but intrigued. It was unlike the thrumming beats of music he overheard in the city. It was a gentle, rolling and flowing sound. He just sort of held her there long after he was clean and urged her to keep humming, eventually coaxing her into singing. They stayed like that, sitting very still against each other, until it was dark.
He can't recognize the song, which makes him curious again. He closes his eyes as she tries to loosen the dried mud caked in his left eyebrow.
"This is my favorite part of the day." He whispers softly.
"I know. Sometimes I feel like you get this dirty on purpose." She presses a kiss on his clean lips, still a little warm from the water.
His celery-tinted eyes flash open. "Maybe." He can't help but smirk up at her.
She loops her arms around his neck, dropping the washcloth to the floor. "My favorite part of the day is later."
He poises one eyebrow at her teasingly. "Oh really, what part is that?"
She doesn't answer. Not with words. Instead she smiles and steals a good, solid, intent kiss that makes him forget time and parts of the day because he has her like this now and he can't let that time be over yet.
She wriggles against him, her warm thighs gripping his hips while he holds her tight in his arms. He can never forget how she's littler than him, and sweeter, and softer… not fragile, but made of different stock.
He lets out a soft groan, his cock perking up at her little moves. It nudges her inner thigh curiously. She rubs against it again. She smiles, loving his unintentional responses to her. They are a bit more fun. She loves playing with his instincts, they rarely disappointed.
"Are you just going to tease me?" he groans out accusingly.
"Oh Wolf," she breathes against his lips. "I could tease you all night and it'd never stop being fun."
"Cruelty," he replies, gripping her hips and bringing them down closer to his, grinding up against her. Her little shorts to nothing to diminish the contact. She gasps, gripping his shoulders tightly.
"Dish it- can't take it?" he murmurs softly.
She laughs despite herself. "Maybe." She leans down to kiss him again. "I just really want you,"
"Oh," he replies, smiling, his white teeth glinting. "I really want you too." He grips her round backside over her shorts, which don't do much to cover any of it.
She pulls off her tank top, helping him out of his dirty t-shirt. He grips her breasts, squeezing them gentle as she smiles, a sly, pleasured smile. His hands find her bare back, sliding over the sweaty skin. He unhooks her bra and tosses it aside. She has to stand to get the shorts off. She nearly falls over because of her rushed movements, and he catches her easily, holding her steady and laughing.
He unbuckles his belt, sliding off his pants and briefs. Scarlet smirks, forgetting to hide the fact she's staring, before remembering herself and slipping off her underwear. He can't help it; he's much harder from her attention. He loves how she looks at him. He can barely understand where her lust comes from. It's only when they're fitted together so perfectly he understands why she noticeably longs for him. She climbs back onto him with a soft, excited smile.
They grind against each other teasingly for a while. Without losing their contact, he plays with her breasts, cradling them in his large hands. She whimpers, almost forgetting him in her own enjoyment. He smiles, tonguing a perked nipple. She grips his hair, holding his close. He sucks her nipple, alternating the suction with soft little licks. His fingers slip between them and he tests how wet she is. It prompts a gasp as he strokes a callused but gentle finger over her clit. She kisses him as his fingers get her in the exact state of mind he absolutely loves. Her hips have to be held steady, or she'd do most of the work for him. Her hand wraps around him and now he sees how she felt; anxious and desperate, so he understands her urgency.
She grips his shoulders as he slides inside her, crying out softly when his thick cock fills her. The familiarity of his size took a lot of practice over the course of their relationship. Now it feels perfect inside her.
"Wolf…." She whimpers softly. Her head falls back when a moan courses through her. He grins with a shadow of arrogance, kissing her exposed neck. He loves, absolutely loves, what he can do to her, his feisty little redhead.
Then her hips shift and she begins to ride him roughly. He growls, having momentarily forgotten just what she can do to him.
And just like that, they're fucking; twice as sweaty as before, becoming dirty and getting clean all over again. He can't resist his grin over remembering the days –such dark days- when he would simply wash his hands before dinner. Oh no. those days would not be coming back.
She sees his grin, raising a defiant brow at his lost attention. She bites his lower lip, daring him to challenge her current dominance. His tongue enters her mouth, and his hips thrust into her roughly, and she melts over him. She's quick to fight, but also quick to surrender when she feels it's worth it. Now it's worth it. He holds her hips to deepen his thrusts, brushing against a spot inside her that makes her writhe. He grins again, his sharp teeth glint in a way that makes her nearly lose her mind. She holds tight to him, her arms slung around his neck, as her climax washes over her.
Her sweaty, sun-tired body goes limp as he thrusts out his orgasm. He allows her to fully collapse against him after he cums, sighing contentedly. She runs her hands up and down his chest, smiling like a pleased cat.
He pulls her up for a grateful kiss. Grateful to her, for their life and her faith. His sweet little love that sits on his lap and cleans the dirt from his body and feeds him and loves him- she saved him.
She smiles dreamily up at him, resting her head on his chest.
"Dinner's probably burned." She excuses faintly.
"Oh, now, I slave all day and you can't even get dinner on the table for me, woman?" he teases, kissing her brow. "Well then, I don't give a damn. Let's skip it and have dessert."
She grins. "Do you smell something burning?" she glances down the hall to see if there was smoke from the stove.
"No," he declares, nuzzling her neck.
"Would you even tell me if there was something burning, or are you that far gone?"
"Maybe…" he kisses under her ear softly. "Can you blame me?"
"No," she whimpers when his teeth find her skin.
His stomach growls. She can't help but giggle. She climbs off him and starts pulling her shorts back on. "Let's feed you, big guy."
The sun is slipping out of the sky's grasp. It doesn't blaze anymore, it just gives off a gentle glow, lighting her face with a look of divinity he could always sense. Sated, sleepy, and spent, he takes her hand, reveling in how this beauty could hold his hand and lead him to the kitchen in the house they shared.
This was his favorite time. When he got to know how lucky he was.
A/N. This will probably be a 2-3 Shot. At first I thought I made Scarlet a bit too mushy, and then I remembered she's French. So they'd have to be really affectionate. They must have crazy sex. Sorry, wait, what? Never mind.
Anyway, review! This will get you by until Cress!