The dim candlelight flickered against the wooden walls of their cozy little flat, casting soft shadows that danced with the evening breeze. Neville lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other tracing slow, lazy patterns across your bare shoulder. His fingers trailed down your arm, then back up again, his touch featherlight, as if afraid you might disappear if he pressed too hard.

His gaze, warm and full of something tender, remained locked on you, the way the delicate fabric of the lingerie clung to your skin, the way it complemented every curve, every inch of you. He swallowed, his heart thudding just a bit harder in his chest.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice husky yet soft, “I never thought I’d get to have moments like this. Not after... everything.” His fingers brushed against your collarbone, lingering as he let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re stunning.”

Your hand came up to cup his cheek, tilting his face toward you. “You’re staring,” you teased, a small smile playing on your lips.

Neville let out a bashful laugh, but he didn’t look away. “Yeah. I am.” His thumb brushed along your jawline before he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “And I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”