[ ah, but how can he move with he vision of silk sliding against her skin, whispering to the ground in a promise of what's to come?
He watched, leaning against the door frame, his fingers idly fingering the ribbon on his arm. A simple tug frees it and that too falls to the floor as he finally moves. ]
You waited.
[ but then his hands are on her arms, and the strawberries are left on the floor where he'd been standing and he's pressing a kiss to nape of her neck. His and he was, for whatever strange quirk of fate lead him here, hers ]