Something had shifted in Sarge after the Howff party. Whether it was finally letting loose, or the faint budding of belonging, the tension that usually defined his prickly form had begun to loosen its grip. It certainly helped that the sweet aroma lingering in the air seemed to buoy his mood. The sweetness was tantalizing in a way he’d never experienced before, the floral tones tugging at memories of happier times.

Deciding it had simply been too long since he’d truly attended to his wife, he set things into motion.

Finding a babysitter wasn’t nearly as difficult as he’d expected, though the list of those he trusted with their children was short. Still, he managed an arrangement that satisfied him well enough. Next came the pilfering of stores. As discreetly as he could manage, he stole a bowlful of fermented berries from their stash and tucked them away in an empty upstairs room for later use.

A night alone with his wife wouldn’t be complete without a meal, so he went out to hunt. Two gophers were all he managed to snag before giving up on anything grander, prey being as scarce as it was. Those, too, were tucked away. Finally, he returned with extra blankets, arranging them carefully to create a comfortable nest atop the mattress. It would be warm. It would be soft. It would be something Wisp deserved.

Satisfied, he slipped out and closed the door quietly behind him before making his way back to their room.

Pushing inside, he flashed Wisp a rare smile. Padding closer, tail swaying gently, he murmured, Du bist wunderschön. Habe ich dir das in letzter Zeit schon gesagt? Die Mutterschaft steht dir ausgezeichnet. (You’re beautiful. Have I told you that lately? Motherhood looks exceptional on you.)

It truly did. She glowed with joy and tenderness, and the sight of it warmed the gruff soldier to his core.

He leaned down to kiss her cheek, then shot her a mischievous look. Da die Kleinen schliefen, dachte ich, es wäre okay, wenn wir uns kurz aus dem Staub machten. Nichts Aufregendes. Einfach etwas Zeit für uns beide, wenn du das möchtest. (With the little ones asleep… I figured it might be alright if we slipped away for a bit. Nothing crazy. Just some time for you and me, if you’d like that.)

Eagerness gleamed in his golden eye as it lingered on the purple-rimmed gems of hers. Hell, she really was gorgeous. He’d always known she was beautiful, even in the mundane rhythms of daily life, but lately, something about her sent a thrill straight down his spine. Pride burned bright in his chest knowing she was his, and he was hers.

Aufleuchten, (Come on,) he added softly, nudging her with his nose. Ich habe etwas organisiert. Die Kinder werden betreut. Nur für eine kurze Zeit. (I’ve got something set up. The kids will be watched. Just for a little while.)

Stepping back, he gave her the space to rise and join him.

Watching her react so sweetly, so bashfully, earned an even bigger grin from him. He would never tire of it. Of her. When she snuggled into his side, his heart beat a little quicker, a little harder.

Du wirst nicht enttäuscht sein, meine Welt. (You won’t be disappointed, my world.)

With that, he carefully guided her from the room, offering a grateful nod to Mal, who had agreed to watch the little ones. Stepping quietly down the hall, he reached the room he had prepared and opened the door for her like a proper gentleman.

Allowing her to slip past him, he followed her inside and closed the door firmly behind them.

Not exactly the romantic setting I would’ve hoped for, he admitted, a faint grimace tugging at his mouth, but with slim pickings in this damn cold, I did my best.

There was a subtle undercurrent of nerves, of embarrassment, as he moved toward the prepared nest. Retrieving the gophers and fermented berries, he laid them out for her with a sheepish expression.

I figured a meal and a drink might be nice. Give us space to talk and just… exist. No pressure. No responsibility. Just each other.

Settling into the nest, he patted the space beside him in quiet invitation, wanting her close, wanting her warm.

The words his wife spoke were of great comfort to the soldier. These were as much firsts for him as they were for her. Sarge was stumbling around in the dark, stubbing his toes, hitting his head, just making a right fool of himself. And yet she looked at him as if he hung the world, as though he could do no wrong.

Pulling her closer, golden eyes drifted shut as she showered him with affection. His tail, usually very still, thumped happily behind him as he let out a quiet chuckle.

I’m glad you approve. You… mean so much to me. I don’t think I show that as well as I should. Things have been so chaotic. Distant.

Trailing off, he leaned back a bit so he could gaze down at her. Scarred or not, she was beautiful. Otherworldly. A true Wisp, if he had ever seen one.

Raising a paw, he gently brushed it along her marred cheek, not to draw attention to the wounds, but simply out of pure adoration for the little gray rat before him.

Keep looking at me with those gems and we may just have to skip the meal.

The gruff teasing slipped from him with a flirty wink before he reached out and pulled their refreshments closer. Collecting a few berries in his mouth, he tilted her face upward before pressing his mouth to hers. The motion split the fermented fruit against her lips, the juice dribbling into their kiss and along their chins.

His tongue lapped languidly along her jaw, each stroke tender and deliberate.

God, you are exceptional, he murmured into the fur of her neck, inhaling her ever-comforting charcoal and smoke scent.

A hum left his lips at her words. It wasn’t that he doubted their truthfulness, it was that he questioned whether he was truly doing all that he could. There was no question that he would protect them, that he would so readily throw his life away if it meant they could continue to live and thrive. But what about while he lived? Was he accomplishing all that he should as a father? As a husband? Surely he was missing things, making mistakes…

Sarge wanted to improve. In that moment he swore to himself that he would continue to grow for the sake of all he held dear.

But those thoughts were quickly lost to the words of his Wisp.

Easy, spitfire. You may not be made of flame right now, but you will surely sear me alive with that attitude.

Truthfully, the meal had lost its appeal, his focus now fixed on the way his core ached for her. Not yet, though. Patience would make it all the more delicious.

The soft sound of her groan into their kiss immediately lit a fire along his spine, burning, raging, all for her. With a low, sultry chuckle, he nipped at her jaw.

We can go round and round all night, little sprite. There is no winning this battle.

And with that final statement, he collected more berries and repeated his actions. A sensual, unhurried kiss, the dribble of juice, the tender lap of his tongue against her.

His breathing grew rougher, his mind pleasantly hazy.

His sprite. His Wisp.

Another gruff, sultry chuckle escaped him. Perhaps. Would my little sprite be so kind as to demonstrate?

The teasing was fun and arousing all at once, fueling a need to lay claim to what was his. He hungered to be one with her, to sink teeth into scruff and hear her delicious sounds echo through the room. Patience, he tried to remind himself as he felt his length extend, pressing firm against his stomach.

Does it now? The words were more breath than sound. Fuck, she was incredible. His tongue flicked over black lips before a crooked grin took its place. He wondered for a moment if more alcohol was truly necessary; it hadn’t left him buzzed, but there was a growing warmth in his chest and a soft fuzziness in his head. Whether that was the drink or the smoke was debatable.

His thoughts were disrupted as she rolled onto her back, head resting on his paws, those glinting summer-sunrise eyes glancing up at him through beautiful lashes. The scent of her arousal became all the more potent with her movements, and he could not stop himself from breathing it in greedily.

Perhaps patience wasn't working as well as he’d hoped. What would one more mouthful of berries hurt? It might loosen them up, him more than her. An underlying fear of hurting her remained, but she was so strong. So capable. Surprisingly durable. That thought made him shiver with appreciation even as it ached with sorrow. Sarge was determined to ensure the proof of her strength was attached to something worthwhile: the intensity of their lovemaking.

One more mouthful, one more careful kiss. This one left him near breathless as he gazed down at her, eyes half-lidded.