Speaker 1: Close your eyes, let the room fade until there's nothing
Speaker 1: but the sound of your own slow breathing and the
Speaker 1: faint hush of snow against glass. You are home. The
Speaker 1: day has ended hours ago. Phones are silent, doors are locked,
Speaker 1: the world outside wrapped in thick, white quiet. Only a
Speaker 1: few candles remain lit, their flames low and steady, throwing
Speaker 1: pools of honey colored light across old wood floors. The
Speaker 1: fire has settled into glowing embers that now and then,
Speaker 1: like a secret heartbeat. A kettle has gone cold on
Speaker 1: the stove. The air still carries warm notes of cinnamon,
Speaker 1: orange peel, and wood smoke. There's a couch, wide deep,
Speaker 1: dressed in soft wool blankets and pillows that have known
Speaker 1: countless evenings exactly like this one. You sink into it, barefoot,
Speaker 1: wearing only the softest things you own. The chill of
Speaker 1: the floor is already forgotten the moment the first blanket
Speaker 1: folds itself around you. Someone else is here too, waiting
Speaker 1: under the same heavy nit throat oh body, already warm
Speaker 1: from the fire. They're quiet, certain and entirely yours. Tonight.
Speaker 1: You sink into the deepest corner of the couch, where
Speaker 1: the wool is already warm from the fire. Snow taps
Speaker 1: softly against the window, but inside there is only golden light,
Speaker 1: the low crackle of logs, and the faint scent of
Speaker 1: cedar and spiced tea lingering in the air. Finger Tips
Speaker 1: trace a deliberate path along a temple, behind an ear, down,
Speaker 1: the slow curve of a neck across a collar bone
Speaker 1: that rises to meet the touch. A mouth follows open,
Speaker 1: unhurried kisses pressed just beneath the jaw, where a pulse flutters,
Speaker 1: Breath catches, then melts into a long, surrendering exhale skin,
Speaker 1: fine skin beneath soft layers of clothing that seemed to
Speaker 1: slip away on their own, a sweater lifted and discarded,
Speaker 1: lounge pants eased down and kicked aside, until there is
Speaker 1: nothing left but fire warmed bodies and the thick cocoon
Speaker 1: of blankets. A heavy knit throw is pulled higher, sealing
Speaker 1: you both inside a private winter. Legs tangle slowly, one
Speaker 1: thigh sliding between another, claiming space with lazy certainty. Fingers
Speaker 1: tease beneath a waistband asking without words. Permission comes as
Speaker 1: a tilt of hips, A quiet sigh pressed against a throat.
Speaker 1: Hands wander lower palm, smooth over ribs, circle a nipple
Speaker 1: until it tightens and aches, then drift down the soft
Speaker 1: plane of a stomach. Clothes fall away completely, now bare chests, meat,
Speaker 1: heart beat to heartbeat, the small shocked inhale of skin,
Speaker 1: finely touching skin. A thigh is guided over a hip.
Speaker 1: Heat finds heat slick and perfect. There is a slow
Speaker 1: testing roll, just enough friction to draw out matching groans
Speaker 1: that are swallowed in a deeper kiss. Time softens. The
Speaker 1: rhythm that follows is never rushed. Long rolling waves beneath
Speaker 1: heavy blankets, bodies rocking together like a boat cradled in
Speaker 1: calm water. A hand slips between bodies, finding that swollen,
Speaker 1: sensitive place and circling with patient devotion. Hips stutter, breath fractures,
Speaker 1: Pleasure coils tighter and tighter until it breaks, quiet, shattering perfect.
Speaker 1: Every glide is savored, the wet sounds of kisses, the
Speaker 1: soft creak of the couch, the low pop of the fire,
Speaker 1: all blending into one endless hush. Release flows through both
Speaker 1: bodies at once. Afterward, bodies locked into a single, warm cuddle.
Speaker 1: The blanket is tugged higher, tucked carefully around shoulders. Fingers
Speaker 1: trace idle patterns over a sweat damp back, along a spine,
Speaker 1: through hair still scented with wood smoke. The candle burns
Speaker 1: lower outside, the snow keeps falling in thick sidholant flakes. Inside,
Speaker 1: there is only this, two bodies folded together under wool
Speaker 1: and firelight, hearts slowing into the same, unhurried rhythm, the
Speaker 1: night stretching long and indulgent around you. Both stay as
Speaker 1: long as you like. The fire will hold, the blankets
Speaker 1: will keep every secret, and morning is still a lifetime
Speaker 1: away