There was a something familiar in the way he held her; something warm and protective, but tender all the same. He smelled of earth, musk and rain-kissed leaves; his touch was comforting after a long day. Often there wouldn't be plenty of words, just her head resting on his shoulder, her back to his broad chest, her fingers laced over his.
The scent of roses was strongest at the crook of her neck. Her hair shined in the moonlight and splayed across his chest. She was light, smaller in frame, and perfectly fit in his arms. Her touch was soft as her fingers danced across his open palm, eyes closed and perfectly tracing the now faint round mark.
There were times when they needed more than just a simple touch and their bodies sought heat that only they can give. Then there were times when the nights were quiet and they just held each other, content in warm embrace. No words, just a soothing caress to make their own private conversation, and tender kisses that became their own meaning of peace.
He pulled her close, gently pressing his lips to the seal on her forehead. The world outside moved at a ruthless pace; their bodies and minds willed every day to keep up. But within the walls of their home was their hearts, knowing that whoever arrived first had someone to wait for.