"I want to stay in here till the water turns to ice and we look like raisins."

It's you and Remy's honeymoon; and while the Maldives is beautiful and gorgeous and romantic and all of that, the hotel with the fancy jet tub is a helluva lot more enticing.

You're sat between his legs in the warm bubbly water, back pressed against his chest and your wedding ring gleaming in the warm light of the en suite bathroom as you cradle a glass of wine in your hand.

"I think that can be arranged, Cherie."

Remy grins, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

His fingers ghost over your stomach and ribs, gently caressing your sides.

You hum softly, tipping your head back in relaxation. You look up at Remy with a lazy smile and half lidded eyes, biting your lip.

You are, perhaps, a little wine drunk. Or, at the very least, tipsy.

Remy huffs a laugh, kissing along your jaw and giving your middle a squeeze.

"You feelin' okay there, mon ange?"

Remy's voice has a playful, sultry, undertone to it, red eyes gazing at you with nothing but love and adoration.

You're his spouse now, after all.

He hasn't been able to stop smiling since you said 'I do'.