#some fluff for my faves was in order before i unleash the secret project i've been working on <3

[sacredsanguine]

come gentle night, come loving black-brow'd night (joel x esme; joesme)

Neither Joel nor Esme keep particularly early nights, though it’s by occupational habit for one and occupational necessity for the other. Midnight is a fleeting moment; quiet, velvety darkness softens the first of its sixty seconds as Esme rolls to comb gentle fingers through Joel’s hair, thumb brushing tenderly over his forehead before her lips touch the spot where a few strands have rooted silver among rich deep brown.

“One.”

He stirs, dark eyes blinking up at her in the few precious seconds it takes for them to adjust to the low light, before a fond smile brings up the sides of Joel’s mouth, dimples warmly illuminated. One hand rises to brush softly against the side of Esme’s face and she leans into the familiar touch, a soft purring hum of contentment thrumming against warm calluses.

“It’s bedtime, love,” he hums, voice burred low and swirled with sleepy purple. “What are you doing?”

“Counting,” Esme answers. Her whisper slides into a soft giggle as Joel pulls her gently in for a kiss and she turns her head so his mouth lands on her cheek while she nuzzles into the side of his face instead. “Don’t make me lose my place! Or I’ll have to start over again…” The delighted, teasing sparkle in her eyes suggests she wouldn’t mind so much.

“Two,” she murmurs, as she turns to kiss the center of Joel’s palm, then each of his fingertips. “Three, four, five, six, seven.”

Esme nuzzles her face into the curve of Joel’s hand again before guiding it to rest on her back, warm through the chiffon of her chemise. “Eight,” she kisses softly into his left eyelid, followed by “Nine” into his right.

Her hands have been massaging his shoulders, thumbs working deep over trapezii to loosen the tension stored up there during the day, but as Esme adds to her counter with a trail of kisses and murmured numbers down Joel’s face, her hands glide up to cup his cheeks, tilting his head slightly to give her better access to every softly shadowed contour of his features.

“Thirty,” Esme whispers, a little teasing giggle curling over her voice as she leans in towards Joel’s lips, then swerves at the last second to kiss very deliberately at the corner of his mouth, then places the next over his dimples.

She pulls back just enough to look adoringly at him for a moment—thirty-three seconds of midnight taken so far, twenty-seven left to tick away—and smile, gold eyes curving into crescents like a summer moon hanging low and reflected in still water.

“Thirty-three.” A careful kiss over Joel’s freshly-shaven chin.

“Thirty-four.” Lips press soft to the cartilage at his throat and curve up sweetly when it bobs in response.

Esme’s smile brightens as she shifts her weight to lean over Joel’s face again, close enough to press their foreheads together. With twenty-three seconds of midnight left to slip between her fingers like unstrung pearls before she threads them between Joel’s, Esme’s lips brush against his. “Thirty-five. Happy birthday, my love.”

The kiss is tender, a celebration in its own quiet, precious trove of three seconds thrice over—not that Esme keeps a particularly faithful count beyond the first three, smiling into the kiss and losing herself in the feeling of something blooming warm and sweet like impossible sunshine between them.

Joel makes a soft sighing sound in the back of his throat when she pulls back, dark eyes bright and impossibly soft as Esme brushes a hand through his hair again. He cradles her face with one hand and tips her into another kiss, plush and deep as the dark night around them.

There’s an edge of mischief glinting over Esme’s reddened lower lip when she grins at Joel and traces a winding path down the column of his throat, touch lightening as her fingertip passes collarbone. “Still a few seconds left of midnight, and so much more of you to celebrate. I want to make sure you start today very happy.”