It was nights like these, when he would feel so complete, so serene. Her body heat would wrap around the contours of his heart and he would feel this surge of sudden passion whenever she was near; especially when he looked at her. How he felt at these moments was an entity on its own.
In nights like this, he wouldn't hide his love; the tenderness in his eyes was almost asphyxiating, especially when he held her in his arms like this, so that he would only hold her closer, tighter.
He watched her breathe in and out as she slept peacefully, her dark curls always in her face. Gently, he pulled them back so that he could look at her; admire her simplistic beauty. Just then, he had the inkling to kiss her, but he didn't, and instead, smiled to himself.
She had just fallen asleep from their night of passion and had the right to be exhausted. She did all the work tonight, after all. He stifled a chuckle as his mind wandered and began to trace the delicate moldings of her face with the back of his index finger, gently as if he was touching air.
When she was asleep like this it tricked even him; that she was this delicate little thing with all the innocence of a saint, but that was the trick of the moonlight. Sure, she was loving and generous, but she was far from delicate. He still could not grasp the fact as to how independent she was- how a woman, his woman, could be so dominant and giving at the same time, especially in the matters of the bedroom. Not that he was complaining. Hell no.
Again, he had the urge to kiss her, but held his position and instead, propped up to his side, one arm supporting his head, just admiring her. He greedily took in every curve of her body, and the familiar sensation of fire would come alive in the pit of his stomach. He could never get enough of her.
He tickled his fingers down along side of her, careful not to wake her. Her skin was incredibly soft, but she always argued that his was just as. She stirred and changed position, this time, on her stomach.
This time, he didn't stop himself as he kissed the birthmark on her back. He didn't stop as he kissed the birthmark on her cheek bone , and moved more curls out of her face as his lips found hers. Even when she wasn't kissing him back his lips tingled.
His throat constricted as the recurring fear jerked its way back to his thoughts: the thought of losing her; and abruptly he broke the kiss and just looked down at her, inhaling deeply, shoving the awfully frightening thought aside.
He wondered why he was always careful with his behaviour during the day. Sure, he was affectionate, but not a fan of the whole PDA. He couldn't stand it to let her know that she had the upper hand on him, even though she told him she loved him every day. He could not stand the idea of her knowing that he was hers, because she was just so god-damned independent that it seemed like she didn't need him as much as he needed her.
But just then, he felt a warm hand on his and he found her eyes. She was awake, and she smiled up at him with those lips he found so fucking irresistible. She smiled that smile that said she was ready for Round Seven; not to brag or anything.
So in nights like these, he wouldn't mask his love for her. He loved her so much that it hurt. He loved her so much that she left him asphyxiated, always with a shortage of air. But he wouldn't tolerate being away from her for a long period of time. Hell, he couldn't even go a day without seeing her.
It was Cupid's chokehold, and as much as she left him breathless, she was his oxygen now.
I originally published this on my old blogspot page on June 2009... and re-reading it several years later I found that it was so appropriate for a Dramione fanfic. I've wanted to contribute to the Dramione community for a while... hope you enjoy!