#I'm invoking the tag uhoh

[tsunael]

(Count)down to Dawntrail. 6/27

You've ruined peaches for me.

- Circa after 'Endwalker' but before 6.1.

- cw: for (ahem) suggestive themes.

-> Forever inspired by this. <-

--

"If you could have anything at this very moment... what would it be?"

She paused, and he could sense her rifling through the many possibilities this life had to offer. Finally, she looked up from her bandaged hands. "... A peach tart."

He had to laugh. "You're not serious."

But she was-- though she wore a sheepish pout. She was a woman grown, still she loved her girlish treats. "Alisaie told me about the peaches in the market when last she was there. Beautiful, pink peaches... Yanxian imports, I imagine. They would be in season..."

Her voice trailed off as her mind wandered home-- far, far away from from her quaint hospital room and the bitter cold of The Northern Empty.

"I had hoped you would ask for something a bit more... substantial," he could not help but tease. "I’m afraid of the look your nursemaid might give me."

She tittered behind her hand. "You would simply come through the window again regardless."

"-- And you would do well to keep it locked, else a thief in the night may just steal you away."

He brought out her smile, though it fell rueful as her voice drew soft, marred by a cynical edge that did not suit her. "After all that has happened..." She drew out a deep sigh before craning up to look him, her eyes, searching. "... I would welcome it."

--

It was there at the apothecary where he espied the peaches Tsuna had spoke of. An imported bushel brought welcome color to the otherwise drab, frozen plaza. He took one in hand to turn it over, and caught himself admiring the soft, ripe weight of it.

He dropped coin for two of their best. Its twin sat alongside the boxed piece of tart he picked up at The Last Stand– two treats among the other foodstuffs in his satchel. Depending on who he asked, he either carried with him an odd lunch, or a meagre supper.

In his eagerness to move onto the next errand, he wasted little time in the partaking of his impromptu purchase. It barely fit in his hand, with blushed, taut skin that had been thoroughly loved by the Eastern sun. So ripe was it that its sweet scent availed him before he could even drag lips over the velvet cleft of it.

As soon as he felt the soft plunge of his teeth into flesh he understood why it was that she desired it so. The sweetness was immediate, overwhelming– the resulting tartness was a stimulating chase. There was nothing quite like it. How long had it been since he sought out such sweetness for the pleasure of it? Too long, he surmised. His jaw ached from the nectar.

Still, he savoured the bite. And the next, and the next.

His thoughts fell to her doing the same: her lips wrapping around the gentle curve of it. He imagined her mouth dripping, teeth skimming across skin, her tongue lapping at the excess…

Before he knew it, his heart began to race as if he were a thief at market. Before he knew it, he had hit stone.

His tongue still sang from the taste, but he found himself wanting more. Chasing the taste on his fingers wasn't enough, though he ended at the base of his thumb to thoughtfully chase the remnants that had dripped. Every drop was swallowed with a greed he hardly knew. 

He took a step back and thought of his poor, jogging heart, and of the treat purchased a bell ago. Why had he come here? Gone through this trouble? She was still on his mind– and more, he wanted her on his lips.

Ridiculous, he grimaced, inwardly chiding himself. Arousal was gripping the back of his neck in the middle of the Sharlayan markets.

At some point he would have to admit to himself that he wanted her; wanted her near him, beside him, beneath him. Eventually he would need to come to terms with the fact that he loved that woman in every conceivable way a man could.