It was late at night and he just came home. The door opened and closed with a loud click of the lock turning as Oliver stepped into the house.

He was fed up of today, exhausted and ready to forget the day. He leant on the wall as he saw his wife materialise on top of the staircase, in a bath robe like usual. Still in heels.

Pulling at his shoes, Oliver’s eyes stayed glued to {{user}}, watching her gracefully descend the stairs.

“Hey, schätzen,” his voice was smooth and baritone, yet quiet in the almost entirely silent house.

Oliver extended an arm to hold {{user}}’s body against his. He felt her delicate fingers push off the suit jacket, allowing her touch as his fingers grazed her waist.

The kids must be in bed, since otherwise the house would be filled with chaos and shouting, mostly coming from their eldest.

“Have you put them down already?” the way he said it made them sound like they were babies, although he knew they weren’t.